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Originally Posted by Overcasts's backstory stuff
The Long Life of Vendigroth Bekeret, The Manifold Facets of Governance
Pre-history
Vendigroth was born a short time before the first age, son of slaves, and born for one purpose: to serve his master, the Raptok Zzethar. His career was to be the scribe of this beast, to record his dictations, his actions, his debates, and even whatever odd conversation he may be having at the time. As record-keeper he was also forcibly brought along on all of Zzethar's activities, whether they be pleasant debate over wine, or terrifying war actions in the forests outside Rathess. His life was expected to be short but useful.
But somehow he persevered.
Whether it was small discussions that turned to combat, great combat that turned to debate, or being used as bait as his master snuck behind the unwary prey as they figured they had won a small snack, Vendigroth was able to carve out his own measure of usefulness to his master. Zzethar even stopped calling him just 'Slave' and began calling him 'Scribe' and promising if he ever got too old to be useful he wouldn't die on the battlefield or be eaten but sacrificed with honors to the Unconquered Sun. Despite the connotations that was quite a compliment to give a human slave.
As it was though he never did get his heart torn out of his chest, instead his perseverance and skill in dealing with the affairs of his master caught the eye of a small shard of power. He glowed with light and used the culture of the Dragon Kings to his advantage, claiming himself olchilike’ or Chosen of the Unconquered Sun himself, and was partly responsible (Along with slightly more violent means such as Queen Merela's) with the ease by which the Dragon King accepted the burgeoning exaltations that picked the most capable slaves of Rathess to fight in the coming war.
During the war he was renowned for his cavalry arts, his almost precognitive ability at logistics, and his ability to chat amongst the armies, scattering ill talk and inciting opinion that victory was just another fight away. The arrival of his horse Babieca became a beacon of hope, for they knew that not far behind was another army, another cartel of supplies, and the hope to fight to the next day.
After the war, while the others worked on sealing away those Primordials who swore the oaths Vendigroth turned his eyes outward toward what was left of Creation after the horror of the war. He spent a long time just writing down the names of those that fell. Flickering Starfall, Darik, Marae. It was his great task to try to find the names of them all, to raise up a great monument in their honor at the highest point in Creation, to march his horse to every small household that had lost someone and offer them what he could, and it ended in Rathess, where he climbed the Pyramid of the Sun and sat in mourning to all the Dragon Kings that fell. For he knew not one had ever known the pain of permenant loss before. His vigil seemed as if it might last forever until the day his former master Zzethar marched to the top of the pyramid and finally placed his claw on Vendigroth's shoulder, and told him that Creation needed him more than they did, and officially set him free.
The Eclipse felt his eyes tear and nodded, walking down the steps of the pyramid and leaving Rathess behind. But a piece of it would remain forever in his heart.
The Deliberative
By the time he returned to regular society he was met with no small strife in the new capital of Creation, as the crowned Queen Merela began to bicker with those who felt that all Solars had fought in the Primordial War, and they all demanded an equal voice in the new government. She rejected them outright claiming that she was given this authority by will of Ignis Divine, and that she would not be gainsaid by any living being.
It didn't take his understanding of society to know war would break out shortly after. In the midst of the Meru war he gathered around him his Eclipse brothers and they discussed how they could possibly end this foolish action. There were greater worries to think of, such as rogue Primordials they had yet to take account of, and the Wyld. Soon they began to whisper in every possible ear they could find, he himself taking a stance at the Queen, former slaves of Rathess as they were. Compromise was reached, and the Solar Deliberative was established, with the Queen at its head. He felt satisfaction in the peace and order, but little did he know the first thing that the Solars would do once they finally all had a voice was spit in the face of the Great Creator.
The choice to put the Great Geas on the Jadeborn when they had never once harmed or attempted to harm the Solar Exalted was an itch on his mind, it was unjust, unfair but he was outvoted when the Deliberative came to term. When Autochthon disappeared behind the Seal of Eight Divinities it struck him in his soul, and for the first time he truly regretted an action, regretted helping his brothers. Regretted giving them the choice.
Time
As time went on he had more than his fair share of achievements, he found his aid in the Oaths of the Shinma amidst the Aftershock War, the development of the Directional Languages, calming the Deliberative when the first Solar died of old age. He rode from place to place on his familiar, Babieca, his influence ensuring that life was well for all members of the Realm empire. Yet still he was plagued with worries, attacks between Solars began to arise, one Solar Circle murdering another in Meru itself severely affecting the attendance of Deliberative meetings, he was noticing something wrong in his brothers and sisters, something sinister. And he wasn't the only one. He always assumed that the Time of Cascading years had been a creation of a worried Twilight, and for a time it calmed everyone. The Deliberative began to meet once more. Conflicts were absent.
This would not last forever.
Inevitably he would note the actions of his fellow Solars growing more severe. Twilight experiments presented at the Deliberative grew more and more dangerous, yet still they seemed to pass. Dawns would make strange requests and secret dealings on new and more powerful weapons. People were disappearing from the cities he governed in a way that stunk of Stealth charms. The Priests grew more indignant of slights against the Sun, searching for heresy anywhere. Even the Eclipse caste was growing more distant, greed, law, obedience, they were using their power to guarantee their ends. Obsessions were frequent, and yet he did not see it for what it was. He thought it was hubris. When Operation Wyldhand passed the Deliberative it was what broke him. After the operation ended he marched to the center of the house and flared with all the integrity charms he could muster to be sure no one could attempt to manipulate his thoughts in his speech. In that last day he berated each and every last one, judging them for their actions against the Greater Good, of Order and Justice. With cited documentation, and screeching opinion he shamed them all and then pushed his way out the door. He would not be seen again in regular society.
But he was not done yet.
The Task
Messengers would begin to appear a year after, humans who all bore the mark of his essence and his blessing. They arrived to deliver requests to craftsmen for a variety of artifacts, to transport the resources to build them, to gather Vendigroth's personal effects and sell them to any willing buyers who would give a fair price, and to acquire land. The amount of resources exchanged in this took many years to complete, and when all the documents are gathered together they made and broke a thousand economies before they finished, but by the end the tally of shipped devices would have raised an eyebrow, a mass plethora of largest capacity cache eggs, a myriad of essence batteries, two reality engines, a large cache of land nearby the Seal of Eight Divinites, and more but he spread the spending so far apart that few could see past the labyrinthine maneuvers. Finally they began to erase the records of his presence, documents with his name, of his deeds. All things were edited or changed to one of his peers. He was quite set on being forgotten.
All his purchases gathered on that plot of land, and any being who dared step near would be approached by one of his disciples and soon enough they would forget why they came and return home. This went on for nearly 165 years, his attempts at being forgotten had gone quite well, for almost no one noticed his absence at the Calibration Feast.
But the Chosen of Fate rarely forget.
The first legion of Dragon Blooded were unprepared for the Disciples. The Second were unprepared for Facets. The third included a host of Sidereal, and as they walked into the very center of the land they saw his final operation in all its splendor. A reality engine tore away at existence as a blank eyed Solar sat nearby, his form a puppet for a greater will. The mindless Twilight formed the growing wylds into people and resources, who shortly moved toward a great building that surrounded the Seal, on the other side Enlightened Disciples channeled their essence into the batteries, and many Cache eggs were being sent into the elsewhere while others were being filled with the batteries as they charged. They immediately slew the wyld shaped and Solar slave and flew to invade the building. Room by room newly shaped were taught the many lessons of trade, discussion, enlightenment. They were all slain as well. In the central dias stood Facets himself, smiling at a circle of Lunar Exalted, who stared blankly into the distance, minds long since broken, “Let us try again.” He turned his reality engine on the seal as the Lunar tried what charms they had to forcibly open the ward into that particular plane of the Elsewhere, but to no avail. He turned and saw his assailants, and smiled about to speak before they unleashed all they had at him, the Lunars stood and took the blows and those that survived rushed at the enemy with reckless abandon moaning, “Must protect master...” As the warriors struggled against the beasts and the Sidereal began to show themselves Facets himself started to understand just how severe of an attack this was, he tore a new hole in the fabric of creation and leapt through, his mount arriving to carry him through the wylds.
They immediately gave chase.
The Last Hour
In the madness of the wylds few beings could match Facets, he had spent too long negotiating with the Raksha and the Shinma for any being in this world to be more prepared. Yet still they took chase. They chased what they thought was his image on the horizon only to strike a Raksha who laughed at their misfortune. They found themselves pulled into grand stories, where they fought armies of Raksha host while a great king aboard his noble steed attempted to rout them, they were assaulted by chesspieces, forced to fight some great beast with an Eclipse mark on its forehead, the captain of Legion was forced into a deadly debate where all the words and strength of argument became fatal weapons, and all the while those who did not have the defense of charms were being mutated and driven mad. Before long all that was left was the Sidereal, whom hounded Facets with all they had.
He knew them as the leaders of this witch hunt, so for the first time he stopped and spoke with them, he asked them why they risked so much for this. What could possibly be so important that he had to die? They would bark that he'd never understand, that he was mad. He would disagree fervently and ask they turn back, his task needed to be completed and thanks to them he had been setback far too much. They ignored him. He warned them one more time, and said that if they did not listen he would be forced to show them true horror. They removed his ability to cast charms, and closed in on what they thought was the kill. He backed away slowly, smiling. The sky began to crack.
The shard found its way into the Jade prison.
Facets wandered out of the Wyld, and began to ship more essence batteries into the cache eggs. Gathered what Disciples were not present, and started again. When they began to see the Disciples popping up again they sent more, this time they were sure they killed him. And then he came back again. They shook in horror at the possibility some Solar had gained immortality and was somehow channeling Solar power without his shard. They sent more and burned everything to the ground. But still! Until finally someone was able to notice that it wasn't Facets at all, but his spirit bound by powerful charms to continue the task. Even after they finally put him down for good there are Sidereal who twitch at the very mention of the Manifold Facets of Governance.
The War as Follows with The Manifold Facets of Governence
Am I Truly Mardukth?
"What is in a name?" Vendigroth Bekeret was kneeled down in the dirst staring at the blank sands a moment, his body as always clothed in the rough but efficent robes he wore in slavery, that seemed to denote a somewhat diminished royalty from his position. An older looking gentleman, with a very long luxurious beard he had braided into his long white hair spoke first, "Power. A name is a representation of form, a comprehension of concept, to name is to attempt to define, and in definition it creates a self." He was smart, and often spoke of the nature of things. A younger man who cradled a spear behind his head shrugged, "Name ain't worth much to the simple. Best it can be hoped for is a vessle to hold ya achievements, even ifn't ya ain't got one, folks get a habit'a givin one to ya." Not very smart, but insightful. Unlike the old man he was much more down to earth, typically able to see what was right in front of him when the old man was trying to break it into its smallest components. The two were prone to fights, but before they could start Vendigroth raised his fist,
"You both are right."
He began to sketch a large mountain in the dirt, details slowly coming into form, "The Primordial Mardukth is the Mountain," From the very top of the mountain great horns began to climb up to a makshift sky, and he assentuated it by forcing them to tear right through said sky to beyond, "And the Beast upon it. If I were to sum him up to a word I'd say Overwhelming. His every part physically is impossibly large, his every aspect physically is impossibly great, his every action reputationally is impossibly fantastic. He is power, and that power is so totally unbelievable that in his vanity he is prone to ask others to remind him that something can be so perfect." The words were spelled out over the whole picture in deeply complicated caligraphy, "AM I TRULY MARDUKTH?" He smiled, "He demands to be affirmed, and through affirmation he becomes more fantastic. His strength alone is unreasonable, but he is enhanced by his own legend. Most of all by his name."
Life as Usual for The Manifold Facets of Governance
Talk amongst friends.
The claw of the Raptok slashed at his throat with killing intent, the sharp manipulator of the Dragon King nearly releasing the last breath of the Solar through the wrong hole. Yet he was quick, and stepped back with measured perfection dodging the claw with relative ease before taunting him in again. The Dragon leapt with power at the Solar, dextrous claws of his feet striking downward. The solar reached out like the waiting mantis and caught what would be deadly sharpness into his strangely resistant arm and then grabbed one of the Raptok's legs dragging him to the ground before mounting the beast and tying his body up closely and chuckled whispering, “You're getting rusty old man.”
The Raptok growled in his throat as he struggled fruitlessly. It was to no avail, they both knew this. The grip of Vendigroth was legendary, once you were in he either squeeze your life away or sent you barreling into the horizon. Struggle was pointless,
“No you just keep getting better.” The Dragon King muttered as he tapped his claw against the surface of the pyramid. They both took the time to stand up slowly, they bowed faintly, neither taking their eye off the other lest they unleash a punitive strike for such foolishness. The sky above was still dark, but in the radiance of the Solar essence that ever lit the Pyramids of the Sun they were not lacking in light.
“Again then?”
He took the mantis stance carefully, hands slightly bent in preparation,
“Of course, Calibration isn't nearly over, and the Sun will be disappointed if I don't have your heart by the time he returns.”
They both smiled and the fight began again. Due to his nature Facets was never fond of great feasts and their debauchery, so every year at Calibration when all others were celebrating he found his way back to Rathess where he would spend his time with Zzethar. It was in the nature of the Dragon King to always remember their primitive side, it allowed them insight to the self and how far they had come in their own enlightenment, and thus was Facets given the lesson every time he returned to the festive streets of Rathess and found his master waiting at the pyramid where the Solar had sat mourning so long ago. There they would fight, until the five days of darkness met their end. The Solar to maintain that his people deserved this world, and the former master to show that Facets had finally turned too old for his position and would have his heart given to the Unconquered Sun, Solar ban on human sacrifice be damned!
As the years passed by it would become an anchor for the Eclipse to lay his soul, to overcome the many stressors and worries that built up from the foolishness of his fellow Solars. To hear the wisdom of lifetimes that lasted to the first days of Creation and onward.
But then he stopped coming. Yet year after year Zzethar came to the top of the Pyramid, lying in wait for the Solar who he called his slave, his peer, his friend. The closest friend he had.
By the time Calibration came this time the so called 'curse of the exiled name' began to branch across creation, tales of Disciples being sent forth when it was written, when it was spoken, and that those who saw the Disciples would be shortly silenced forever.
The Raptok sat on the Pyramid of the Sun again, light snacks dotting around him, as well as many long scrolls filled with endless repetition,
“Zzethar, are you alright, you have been sitting there since Calibration...”
He stared out into the horizon ignoring the younger Dragon King as he picked up the scroll and continued to write, he awaited the coming of this so called curse undaunted, the scrolls filled with the name, he muttered out what was only scarcely understandable by the Dragonling, “I know you can hear me...”
“Well of course I can-”
“NOT YOU.” His eyes burned a hole through the youngling who retreated quickly, his tail between his legs. His eyes returned to the horizon looking for the Disciple that was supposed to bring his doom, “You coward, willing to destroy a thousand minds and scraps of paper and yet you balk at something so weak as me? Facets! Vendigroth! Bekeret! Is that loud enough for you? You coward?!” He threw the scrolls to the ground, “Damn you! DAMN YOU!” He fell to his knees claw clutching at the scrolls, tears falling gently across the name. Thirty Dragon King lifetimes. More than 3000 years of friendship. He could not force himself to believe that he had become another fallen Solar, "Damn you..." He stared at the altar still red with the blood of the last sacrifice, blood of his brothers hoping for some wisdom from the Sun for what they could do about the horrors their greatest allies enacted. That the Sun's chosen enacted. He stared up to the burning zenith and reached into his chest and offered his heart up, burning in golden light, one last prayer on his lips,
“Please. Help him.”
But no one was there.
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11-18-2012, 12:40 PM
Dead Waters, Episode 20: The Very Deadly Deathlord Tea-Party Showdown
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