the Monkey and the Warlord

Hello! Normally I do not get very involved with godly things, but sometimes when you're being nice and polite, godling things have a way of finding you! Bamathis was very fun, and I am very glad I had the encounter I did. I'm sharing it below, so I hope you all enjoy reading it and my panicked 'I GOOFED. I GOOFED.' IRL is worth it

Oh, I don't have a system, so I'm noting any time I'm thinking by prepending it with (THINK). I'm sure you could have figured that out, but I'm saying it anyway. Descriptions, then log:

---Descriptions---

Bamathis:

He is an Immortal and stands as the pinnacle of His Ankyrean embodiment. Pointed ears peek out from His long hair, midnight dark with a predator's gleam which drapes down His back and shoulders. Cut like almonds and cast in eerie silver, His eyes set the severe tone of His angular, slender face. Tall with a muscular physique, His light complexion has a nearly metallic undertone, as if His being was merely a pleasing veneer over venantium. A perfectly circular burn is set high up and center of His chest, a blackened mass of flesh roughly wrist width.

(covering the torso, reaching His knees) : a long tunic cut from strange black cloth
(sculpted to His frame) : a gleaming cuirass of argent venantium
(secured over His shins) : polished venantium greaves
(strapped tight) : a warrior's reinforced sandals

Taiyang:
He is a typical Human vampire with a bright shock of wavy hair in a messy, yet endearing, tangle on his head; coloured in ash blonde roots that brighten tremendously towards a golden yellow at their tips. Brilliantly green eyes gaze around with an air somewhere between mischief and excitement from above a slightly upturned nose. Thin lips seem pressed easily into a grin or a kind smile, with no hint of facial hair to be found anywhere near them. Incredibly pale, his skin is still defined with a layer of muscle that can be seen where his long arms are exposed by the barely-there sleeves of the silk-and-leather tunic he wears down to his waist, and the forest-green trousers that are cut off at the knee to allow him freedom of movement. Setting him apart from the crowd is a long tail poking out of the back of his pants from a small hole inexpertly cut into them just above his rear, the prehensile yellow-gold appendage often flicking around in his excitement or wrapping around a leg to avoid any unfortunate accidents. His bare feet drum against the ground in a restless, happy, and somewhat hyper tic, the rhythmic thudding much more impactful than a person of his stature should make. Stained deep, the dark brown and black of dried blood has set in around his fingertips and in specks along his wrist, though there is obvious attempts at cleaning it away in discoloured abrasions of scratched, shiny skin. He is suffused with the fervor of the Warlord, carrying His blessing.

(covering down to the top of his biceps) : a Celestine leafy shirt sewn of leather and silk of ..
(cut off at the knee) : a Celestine pair of forest-green trousers

---Log---

The centre of Yggdrasils' hollow.

Bowing his head respectfully, his voice lifting in quiet prayer, you say, "Great Warlord, I do not know if I spoke loudly when I offered up corpses to You, but now that I know You are paying attention, I think it is safer to offer up my thanks. So thank You! I am very glad You offered Your favour to everyone, but especially to my city, and my friends. It is very kind of You to do so, so I hope that what little essence I can offer You is appreciated in return. Even those of us who are very bad at fighting are appreciative, and I would never want You to think otherwise."

You must be standing on ground consecrated to a particular God in order to make an offering.

You have emoted: Taiyang opens his eyes and looks around, double-checking back from whence he came as he says, "Wait...is...do they not have a shrine in His temple? Do...do I just leave the corpses here? That seems rude."

You have emoted: Taiyang frowns in clear frustration and confusion, musing through his troubles as he taps his feet absentmindedly.

You have emoted: "...maybe there's one further inside?" Taiyang muses aloud, glancing to the north and south in quick succession. "But I'm not in His order, so it would probably be rude to just barge in and go 'Here you go Mister Warlord Bamathis, I brought You dead bodies. And thank yous, but that doesn't get blood out of the floor.'"

A sudden line of silver essence splits the air before you, widening quickly into a rippling gateway.

You have emoted: Taiyang blinks in sudden shock, eyes dilating fiercely.

With harsh fervor, the words of Bamathis, the Warlord reach you: "Enter."

You have emoted: Taiyang gulps audibly before nodding and moving towards the rift.

You step through a rippling gateway of silver.
--- The heart of Yggdrasil ------- -3:1:0 ---
There are 4 Argent recruits here. The air around Him filled with uncomfortable tension, Bamathis, the Warlord stands here. A small, softly glowing root grows in a corner of this large chamber.

You have emoted: Taiyang winces as he steps through, looking around quickly before noticing Bamathis and pausing in his tracks, readjusting the few corpses in his possession, as he nervously pads his heels against the floor.

(THINK)
"Do...am I supposed to say hello first? No, right? The Divine are very important, it is probably best to let Them say things first."

(THINK)
"BUT HE IS ALSO A WARRIOR SO MAYBE THAT'S WRONG?"

(THINK)
"I need to read more about talking with the Divine. Or maybe don't do it. But They're Divine so..." The train of thought quickly derails into little more than a rambling mess, losing any sense of coherence.

"Welcome to My fortress, Nehekhara." Bamathis states aloud, His voice carrying the words along with a thin layer of rime - utterly cold and impassive. He turns to face you, both of His hands moving to rest at the small of His back. "Those outside My fold rarely have an opportunity to see it."

You have emoted: A nervous smile, though one that still contains all the seeds of genuine excitement, blooms across Taiyang's face and he says, "Thank You very much, Mister Warlord. Er...Sir Warlord." He pauses for just a moment, distraught in thought before finally settling, "Warlord. I uh...I am sure You heard my prayer, but I came to offer my thanks. Because You have always been very kind with Your blessings to me and all of Bloodloch, and I know it always feels nice when people say 'Thank You' so..."

You have emoted: Taiyang gestures lamely, the few corpses in his hands gripped with knuckles even whiter than undeath should make them. "I uh...thought to bring You another small offering. Because I am not...very good...at hurting things."

(THINK)
"This was probably a mistake. But He is nice so far. Just like Missus Dark Mother Chakrasul. A little scary. Maybe a lot scary, okay, but very nice."

Bamathis's hard, silvered gaze seems to rake a scathing path over your form, weighing and assessing in a matter of moments before the Warlord's stare meets your full on again. "Not a weakness I thought to hear from one of your ilk." He finally states. His brow furrows slightly, and a single step forward is taken towards you. "I give My favour to those that are deserving - to those that will use it. To improve themselves, to strive. Is this offering you make an appropriate reflection of that, boy?"

You have emoted: Rather than fear, a troubled look crosses Taiyang's face and he looks down and says, "Well, no Sir. Er...Warlord." He pauses and says, "I mean, about the offering. If I were to do my very best I could probably get you a lot of corpses, and even probably some big things like lions, but..." He frowns and says, "I do not enjoy it, and I don't ever think of it as something to improve at. Only to do, and see done, until other people are happy. But Your favour does help me feel more confident, and stand a little taller, so that way I can explore new places and see new things." He looks up and says, "If You were interested in hearing about how people think, or stories about the things I learn about how people think, then I could give You an offering that showed it well, but I do not know if You would like that."

(THINK)
"Man, did I really just say all that? I shouldn't have said all of that. I should be quiet."

Bamathis's head tilts to one side as He listens - just a fractional motion - as if gaining further insight into a puzzle that stands before Him. He takes another step forward, confidently closing the gap further before He angles away to your right - and disappears out of your sight behind you. Solid footsteps can still be heard as the Warlord's path continues around you, followed by His words. "Intelligence, then. It is said I favour the fighter - the brawler, the berserker, the skirmisher - but do you know what else I favour, boy?"

You have emoted: "No, Warlord. But I know that I do not know, and that You can tell me." Taiyang doesn't turn to follow, though as Bamathis steps behind him his tail instinctively returns closer to his body and lashes tightly around his leg, tucking out of the way before it can be accidentally stepped upon or a nuisance. "I'm not very smart, but I think that you have to know that to be able to learn anything. So I hope You will. Tell me, I mean."

>>Literal moments before I finish my think, in bright grey RIP<<

Pinpricks of tension suddenly alight across the surface of your flesh at the growing proximity of the Warlord. A flutter alights in your chest, something not natural to your state of being, a feeling remembered. Unbidden, beads of sweat begin to drip down your brow.

(THINK)
"Is this going well? I think this is going well." There is an image of masculine, earthen-hued sandals tucked safely away in his bag, and in a moment of self-aggravating frustration, he thinks, "Oh, I should have made sure I had my sandals out when I came in! Rebra said they were for important meetings." The image of Taiyang walking in triumphantly clutching the sandals in his arms plays on repeat for a few seconds, only minimal changes between them, which is instantly dashed by a growing storm shattering the hesitant, rambling peace of his mind.

(THINK)
"...maybe not so well."

You have emoted: Taiyang's breathing quickens ever so slightly and he instinctually straightens, though he can stand no taller than he already does. The tail wrapped around his leg poofs outward, growing thick and bristly.

"I despise self-deprecating comments." The words come with a withering, icy tone from directly behind you now, Bamathis's footsteps having ceased a few seconds ago. "Understand your limitations, then surpass them." Finally the steps pick up once more, moving slowly around the back side of you. "I value the strategist, the tactician, the spy - for there is as much value in the one that holds the pen as there is in one that holds the sword." Finally, the Warlord appears once more on the opposite side of you, hands still folded behind Him.

You have emoted: Taiyang's shoulders do not relax, but his breathing evens out as he hears the steps repeat, and sees Bamathis return to his field of view. "I could tell You how people's instinctive social cues change if they're talking to a vampire, or to a regular person. I see a lot of that. I could tell You how people change how they talk to you when they think you are not very smart. I am not sure what You would find interesting, because I do not think I am very much a tactician, or a spy, or a strategist. I just like to know why people think what they do, so that way I can understand them." He smiles a little meekly and says, "It helps when you want to make friends, after all, Warlord, to know why someone gets mad at you. Then you can not do it."

Rebra's psychic whisper trails through your mind, "Staying strong, my childe's childe?"

(THINK)
"But Immortals don't follow the same rules as us, which makes this much more confusing. Maybe it's...a...hrm...no, but...er..." Lots of confusing scenes of this exact same scenario flash to the forefront in his mind, but each replacing Bamathis with a mortal of stature and great pose. "No, those are all...too simple. Because Immortals can do whatever They want, so you can't expect Them to follow those same rules. It's like none of the rules were ever made."

You tell Rebra, "Er...yes, Empress! I think so. I am...speaking with the Warlord! I came to offer up thanks, and say a prayer, and He summoned me to speak. But I do not want to be rude, so I will respond to you more properly when I am not doing that!"

Rebra's psychic whisper trails through your mind, "Ah, have a good conversation, and mind your manners."

You tell Rebra, "Yes, Empress." Then a mental chastisement, and a concerned effort at silence.**."

Bamathis's steps finally cease, leaving Him standing directly before you now. "You claim to know nothing of what I value, then rattle off a list of attributes those very positions require." The barest hint of something shows at the corners of His mouth now, not quite a smile, but something close. "You will find a shrine within My fortress that will suit your needs. For Sapience, Nehekhara." His gaze slides away from you, lingering momentarily on a patch of darkness that hugs one of the larger root systems within the room, before He turns abruptly and begins to move. No more than two steps are taken before the Warlord is simply gone.

Even as the Warlord vanishes, you say, "Yes, Sir! For Sapience! Warlord! Sir."

You have emoted: After a few long moments, Taiyang turns to move to find his way out, and quickly turns back and says, "Thank You again. For talking to me, and letting me see this place. I am almost certain I have enjoyed every moment of it."

>>After I am escorted out (minilog included in comments)

You tell Rebra, "I...am no longer speaking with the Warlord." A rush of emotion reaches you, first and foremost among them relief, though it is a relief at a job well done rather than the relief of mistakes made passing. "I am not sure I like talking with Them much. The rules are very different."

Rebra's psychic whisper trails through your mind, "How so?"

You tell Rebra, "Well, I mean..." After a moment of composition, "Most not Immortal people have to follow rules. Because that's how people work, when they talk, and meet, and do things. Because we have to, or it would be chaos. And even if people don't realise it, almost every single person in the world follows those rules! But the Divine...just...don't have to. Because They can do what They want. And I don't know what to do around Them because of it, so something that might be bad might be good, and something that might be good might be bad."

Rebra's psychic whisper trails through your mind, "That is true. They are not bound by our rules. Did you learn anything from your conversation?"

You tell Rebra, "I think He thinks I am a strategist. Or a tactician. Or a spy. I VERY RESPECTFULLY," the words are given as much extra emphasis as his mind can add, before he continues, "...said I wasn't, and said what I was, and then He told me that I must be those things to be any of those. So I am not sure. Because I thought I was just me."

Rebra's psychic whisper trails through your mind, "What are you?"

Rebra's psychic whisper trails through your mind, "I am asking, of course, out of curiosity."

You tell Rebra, "Well, I am nice. And I am a friend. I am someone who wants to know how everyone works, so that way I can do the things I want, knowing how people will respond when I do. That's why I am quiet, and do not try to be too smart, and just watch people. So I can learn the rules."

Rebra's psychic whisper trails through your mind, "Ah. I can see why He would think such of you, then."

Rebra's psychic whisper trails through your mind, "Respectfully, of course I think the Warlord considers everything and everyone from the perspective of war, the war He was called to lead."

You tell Rebra, "I am unsure. Those types of people are very important, or sneaky, and...sometimes mean. I don't think I have the...what's the word that I read the other day, it's a very good word...dis.." The train of thought is lost for several long moments, and then returns suddenly, "...I don't think I am built to be like any of that." Another moment of quiet curiosity and realisation, then much stronger curiosity in two words, "What war?"

Rebra's psychic whisper trails through your mind, "The War for Sapience, against the invader Beings from Albedos."

*musical sting*
---FIN---