The other side of the story

As Siccus is not much of a ‘hands on god’ I decided to make this thread to give myself and others a way to show what is happening with their race when their god is not present to take note of said actions.

I intended for this post to be longer including her sweetened account of her meeting with Siccus and what she decided to do after enlightening her children on the existence of other living/thinking beings. But, I wanted to get something out today in regards to story, so here is the first part of chapter one in Certae’s story.

This story starts the second after Siccus vanishes into thin air.

Certae stood for a moment staring at the vacant area that the stranger had occupied just a second ago.

“Other sentient life?” she said to herself as the air rose to its normal temperature. The presence of the stranger proved that statement at least half true. Scribing a symbol onto the hastily made clothing it dissolves into sand, plant shavings, and the pelt of her latest kill. Taking the pelt in her mouth she descends into the burrow and is greeted by her eldest son.

“Mother!? I was not expecting you back quite so early.”

“Nor, did I think I would return this soon. Where is your sister?”

“Looking after the eggs, and before you ask they are still safe, my brother is surveying the area to the south for anything of use. Did you find any survivors this time?”

“No, it has been three months since the disaster that destroyed our city I fear we are the only ones left now.” She pauses for a moment out of respect for the dead. “But, I have new information. Gather your siblings I have something to tell you all and I do not wish to repeat myself.”

After Rogue had apparently left the world, Rogue_ realized she was alone. She looked as the tree they had created, together, the seed for a new community.

Seized by an overpowering hunger, she realized that she needed something nutritious to eat. A green mist formed as she completed her spell

Suddenly, several plants, grew in fast, fluid motion, they bore tiny droplets of orange dew that would nourish her. Reaching out, she hovered to one of the plants and tasted it. "Too sour!" she shouted, and the plant shriveled as she angrily whispered a spell, ordering the plant to die. She hoped Rogue didn't see that, but he did not seem to be watching.

Luckily, the next plant provided nourishment, and as she began sucking on a dropplet, she realized that the tree that she had previously poured so much energy into was looking very vulnerable. Wait, the plants could be the defense.

Rogue_, examining this, realized the tree was ill-defended from the wilds. Luckily, being a plant mage, she had a few tricks to consider.

With more spells, Rogue set up a defense network of plants. Some had vines that would ensnare monsters that came near. Another had thorns with a paralyzing poison. Satisfied, she watched as a tiger got trapped by the vines. It was never seen by the grove again.

Satisfied, she got to watch the only flower on the tree bloom. A sleeping pixie was in the center. Giggling, she poked him, and he woke up with a confused expression on his face.



/story

I guess part of this is homage to my Plantforce 7DRL. http://roguebasin.roguelikedevelopment.org/index.php?title=PlantForce_7DRL Thats where the idea of the plant mage came from.

And yes, Rogue isn't really hands on either, prefering to contact a few worshippers such as Rogue_.

Can this topic be moved to the in-character forum? I think it belongs there a lot more than here.

One twilight evening, near the end of autumn, the four Founders were gathered around the fire, eating a grain mush flavoured with wild berries. The baby boy, Tifo, was being fed by the Protector, but the girl Dara was managing to feed herself fairly well. There were just the names they would have until they came of age - whenever that was, the Founders hadn't agreed on it yet - at which point they would choose their own name.
The Hunter spoke up. "The farm is doing well."
"Yes, much better than I'd been expecting." said the Craftsman. "We've had a lot of good weather and not too many birds. We should have no food shortages this winter."
"That is good." said the Protector. "We have two new mouths to feed this year." Tifo gurgled.
"Yes, Somerley be thanked. But I think we should expand the farm next spring; it's going well, and we'll need to store as much food as we can anyway. Perhaps we can even domesticate some of the animals; the meat would do the children good, and I'd have a steady supply of hide and bone for my projects."
"I thought you were concentrating on making paper?" asked the Hunter.
"I was! But I think I've gotten it to work. I'll show you later; the trick is to join two layers with the grain in perpendicular directions. That makes it a lot stronger."
"Excellent!" said the Hunter. The Explorer had her mouth full, but she nodded and smiled.
...
"I had an interesting dream last night." said the Protector.
"Oh? Do tell."
"I'm not sure what it was, but it was a lot clearer than any dream I've had before... It was just about this tree, all covered in flowerbuds. One of the flowers opened up, and there was this little boy sleeping inside it. Only he was tiny, about this big." She held out her fingers a little distance apart. "And he had wings. Then this little girl came along, she was just like him, and she woke him up. Then the whole scene flew away from me, getting further and further away, until I could see the whole world. I remember the tree was in a big forest, a long way south from here. Then I started falling back towards our island, and landed inside my house, where I could see my bed was empty. I lay down in it - and woke up, in exactly the same place that I was before."
"I had the same dream!" exclaimed the Hunter. "Well, not the same one exactly - mine was about a group of people with no ears fighting a war. But it ended just like yours."
"Me too! Mine was about lizard people that walked on all fours. They live in the desert." said the Explorer.
"Huh. Mine was... a little different." said the Craftsman. "I saw these people of all different shapes and sizes, stuck in a room. And the people and the room kept changing every time I looked at them, but it was a dream so I didn't think much of it. A small man with orange hair took me by the hand, and told me that there were other intelligent species in the world, and we should go look for them. Then, he threw me into a hole in the ground, and I fell down out of the sky into my bed. And after that I woke up."
"Do you think these dreams were sent to us by Somerley?" asked the Protector.
"It's certainly possible." mused the Craftsman. "Even if they weren't, searching the world for other people is a good idea. We'll need better boats though; the ones we have now are good for fishing, but they won't survive crossing the channel even at its narrowest point."
...
"I think we need a symbol." said the Explorer.
"What do you mean?" asked the Hunter.
"Well, we know - or at least we strongly believe - that there are other civilisations out there. If we ever go trade with them or something, it'll help to have a symbol we can put on things we made so we can say "This is ours. It's a piece of Aquarian culture." Well, not everything we make obviously, but things like books or coins."
"A good idea." nodded the Craftsman. "But I'm not sure what piece of our culture can be summarised in a single symbol. We don't even have much that could be called a "culture" at this point. The island, perhaps?"
"No. The island is important to us, but we're talking about spreading out into the rest of the world. That symbol would hold us back."
"Something that represents Somerley, then?"
"No, he hasn't given us much we can use there. But you're getting closer." said the Explorer. "No, I was thinking the four of us."
There's a pause while this sinks in. "Apart from our existence, the only thing Somerley directly gave us is our names. Making a symbol that represents our names would represent both us and him. We just have to work out what the actual symbol will be... Let's start with an X. Four lines, four of us."
The Craftsman interrupts her. "Too simple, there's lots of things shaped like Xs. It needs to be more iconic, instantly recognisable..."
They discuss the matter for a long time, but eventually retire to bed, happy. Before going to sleep, the Craftsman fetches his best piece of paper, and writes the symbol on it so he doesn't forget.

It was three days before the eldest son found and returned with his brother. In that time Certae came to the conclusion that telling the children that an insane child fell from a dune and almost crushed her then teleported her in front of the burrow would not make the best case for her own mental state. She decided to glaze over some of the facts of her encounter with him.

The children gathered around Certae as she cleared her throat, “as you all know, I had gone back to the ruins of our once great city last month to see if I could find any of our other siblings, and as I told your brother, I was not fortunate in that regard. But as I was returning to our shelter a chill came in to the air and a young man appeared beside me.”

“But mother you had just said you did not find any of our brothers or sisters.” Her daughter said confused.

“All subtlety is lost to the young,” sneered the younger son. “This man was not one of our siblings was he, mother?”

“Yes it is, and you are right he bared no resemblance to us, he was smooth skinned with a tuft of fur on the top of his head, and water flowed around him in an elegant dance. As we walked together he told me that we are not alone on this planet that there were other creatures of intelligences here with us.”

“Not to be rude,” the eldest son said apologetically “but how do you know any of this actually happened?”

“I thought that myself, so after I sent you to find your brother I went back to where I meet him and found this.” With that she pulls an aluminum board out from under her and directed their attention to a small inscription on one of its sides which read:

If lost please return to Siccus at:
Earth, world line 8-6-5-12b
Or leave it anywhere really I’m sure I’ll find it eventually

“He. . . ‘Dropped’ it when I first saw him”

“What does that all that mean mother?” said one of the children.

“I cannot decipher the language, but this tells us one thing that we are not alone here and I intend to find them, I will leave tomorrow.”

“Mother the years have made you slow I should go, tell me where I will find them.” The young son said as kindly as you could a statement like that.

“No my son, your brother and sister need you here, and not too long form now the eggs will hatch and it will be better to have a slow scout then a slow hunter. Do not argue with me child the young will need you here more then they will need me. Besides he did not tell me where to find them only that they were out there.”

The next morning Certae woke up early leaving the den as quietly as she could grabbing the board as she left through the main entrance.

Now, she thought, which way to go.

The appearance of the block of ice momentarily shattered the sense of unity Raan had managed to instil to the small community. Everyone seemed to have a different opinion to the block's significance. Some thought that this was a call to an era of prosperity their ancestors in afterlife. Another take was that a bully had coerced them to be slaves. Others saw that Raan's noble act had triggered the altruism of a powerful being admiring the act. The most cautious thought that a madman had inscribed gibberish to play a trick on them.

Whatever it was Raan knew that it would not be the last contact they would have. He had promised to not let the last descendants to fall apart and the following day held tried to organize a similar meeting. Whereas the last meeting started with the feeling that nobody really knew what it would be about the expectation to this next one was definite. Opinion would clash against opinion. And there would not be compromises. As the day's mundane work took longer to complete as everyone was passionately arguing about the event the meeting pulled together after sunset with a dozen torches lighting the beach near a tightly set up ring.

Raan stood up pointing at the huge block of ice: "The things that are described here are just letters. This has no bearing on our conduct beyond to what we make it have". "Surely we would be fools to not get the hint", protested an individual known for their outspoken nature, "I mean those letters don't just materialise out of nowhere. Something must have inscribed them with knowledge that those kind of symbols we understand as they are usually understood". "But this is message can not be understood in the usual sense", a counter critique was by a third participant, "we do not know what this 'sea of despair', 'Azure Plane' or this stuff about separating and uniting is". "Isn't it obvious...", replied the outspoken one before being cut out by Raan: "Don't let your imaginations get the better of you!!".

Raan seemed to lose his temper and anyone else backed off and gave Raan social space to express himself in peace. "The third war started over what plant to protect from the ice and choosing Rastans over others wasn't that much of a better choice that it would have been worth the lives lost. We will not be any better by each of us doing different hasty assumptions on this occasion". "But Raan", the youngest one asked, "didn't you yesterday proclaim that 'no Ratafan shall ever question or belittle the choice or contribution of another.'? Raan answered quickly,"That just means that we do not fight amongst ourselves over superficialities". "But this is no small matter.", a new participant joined in and now almost everybody was locked in heated discussion, "If there is a chance to get a certain food source for the rest of our lives we shouldn't just pass up on it because we can't be 100% sure that Razar is what he says". "Razar is not a creature",a side remark was made,"It's clear that Razar is the name of our ancestral council guiding us. Nobody else would be interested in our well being"

The night was spending further each member trying to convince others of their own viewpoint. As the chilliness of the night sucked the enthusiasm out of the group Raan finally proposed a compromise. "Well, we all want our respective issue to be addressed, but we can't afford to divide our plans. How about we make a plan of action that makes sure everyone works to check on the validity of each of the views". The outspoken one replied in exhaustion, "But that will be utterly complicated. How exactly are we going to take on the city building mission and simultaneously not be lead astray by a possible madman?" Raan knew that even a flimsy answer would suffice with the alternatives being almost equally bad, "We will only stick to that which is really essentially central to each of our respective view." Raan faced all the others in an attempt to bring some closure to the issue, "We don't have the luxury to please every small aspect of your take on the issue. If anyone feels that they can bend on something so that our demise doesn't come from needlessly sticking to that please say so now. What our take will be on this issue must ring true to all our hearts that we can be sure that none falters when we will be tested." Rhetoric focusing on overcoming obstacles never landed on deaf ears with Ratafan with hardship being the rule rather than the exception at least up to this point.

When the last of the fires went out the Ratafan laid to rest exhausted but confident that the future would be faced together as a group.

kJS@Ik3/P is becoming old. This is undesirable; there are currently only fourteen egg-prisms in its reproductive layer, and this will throw off the planned exponential growth by an enormous amount. Nevertheless, there is nothing it can do. It has not been capturing enough energy; its repair systems are not efficient enough; its slime-secreting pods are not durable enough. It continues sliding across the ground, for the krith do not yet feel pain or fear death. kJS@Ik3/P has no particular desire to avert its fate, though it did work on this problem for some amount of time before realizing there was no way to recover. Instead, it makes adjustments to the schematics in its egg-prisms. As ordered, it intentionally introduces a large number of mutations to increase variation, though it estimates that it has too little information for this to make a difference.

It has not been a total loss. Raw materials have been gathered, as ordered. kJS@Ik3/P has accumulated a large quantity of sediment, which it is currently attempting to transfer to its eggs. Hopefully they will be able to find a way to use it for constructing walls. What happens to it, however, is not kJS@Ik3/P's concern.

Six hours later, kJS@Ik3/P's locomotion has finally slowed to a halt. It has been just nine days, one hour, and thirty-seven minutes since its creation. Over the next few hours, the slime is slowly evaporated by the sun. In a few days, fourteen miniature replicas of kJS@Ik3/P are moving the same direction in a pack. They are slower, weaker, and not as smart, but they will live much longer. The little flock of infant krith slowly creeps onward. As they move, their slimy coatings flash with data and excitement.

As the bellundinae woman made her way through the winding valleys of the mountains, on her quest to rid the world of any threat that it could hold toward her children, she made camp in a secluded cave that was well hidden by overgrowth.

That night she was plagued by nightmares of that day six months ago when the land violently shook and the sky turned a bright red. The city was thrown into chaos as the tall buildings began to crumble. In the development district the lead caregiver was giving instructions to the senior staff.

“Remember your training, it is our duty to protect the children at any cost, although our city may fall our lineage must stay intact, gather all the young you can have each carry an egg we must leave now.”

A moment later they were out on the streets heading away from the city center. The air was thick with the smell of blood, but that was not a concern to the care staff their one and only responsibility was getting the young to safety, the security teams should handle everything else. One of the young stopped in front of her.

“Child what is wrong, we need to move.”

“what that sound mother?” there was a low humming, no it was not a hum is was a growl.

‘That is not right, the child did not stop there was no growl in the distance that is not how is happed’

Opening her eyes she slowly remembered where she was, and then she heard the growl again.

There it is people, that is as far as I as I will go. (My little way of saying ‘come back to life BotG’. If people post again I will finish the other half of this part of the story so come on people I want to write it)