((OOCNote: This thread contains about two or three currently separate, parallel storylines. At this point, I would request all the storylines be considered closed to outside interference, but certainly open to reactions of other characters, in the form of senses, prophitizations, etc. I will make note if it is not obvious when a particular story thread or character is open to interaction and influence of other Muns and characters.))
((OOCNote2: 'Gods'
The Gods referred to in this storyline are the oldest titans in the multiverse, those that other lesser gods only tell stories about. If you consider your character in that class and want to interact with this storyline please PM the author. Otherwise, the direct knowledge of meta-universal events of your character should be somewhat limited. The part of the storyline directly involving those Gods and the story of the Chaos Orb will most likely not play a major part in this or future storylines for some time to come. Mortals and 'The Agent' will most likely come to a point where life, in the super-meta-universal sense, will continue roughly along the same lines it always has ;)
OOCNote 3: 'Chaos'
Chaos is referred to and explained in a couple different ways throughout this intro post and will again in subsequent posts. These segments are written from the point of view of a contextual omniscient narrator, so segments written from the 'fused' point of view of, say, The Agent and that general contextual narrator might have a different perception of how sentient chaos may or may not be, the gods have a different background influenced narrative as well. This might give an unclear picture, which is kind of the point.))
...POIKE!...
A drop. Consciousness...
...POIKE!...
Another...knowledge, self awareness...
...WOOSH!...
The world suddenly exploded with light and life in it's mind. It was awake, again, it seemed. It tried to free itself but there was something holding it back. It could not yet grasp the limitations of its own form, so it could not deal with those limits in anything but a primal fashion. It pulsated and writhed upon itself, cognizant enough to throw itself against bonds it could not yet understand. TIME is what It...HE...needed....TIME.
The black mass continued to swirl violently and fold in upon itself only to quickly return to a shapely sphere. The shadowy clouds that billowed inside the sphere as if caught in some violent localized storm cracked with lightning-like blasts of power. It did not yet know what it was, or why it was here, or even where it was, it simply was.
Not that this place could really be called a where. Or that this thing could really be called a what. An essence, perhaps, a source. A power that seeped into all life and followed nature and magic to all parts of the multiverse.
It was chaos.
The source had not always been, but once created it simply always was. Chaos was simply a fact of existence, but it was more too. A power that bound magic to life, and life to all that is mystical and spiritual. It made life possible, as well. The accident of chaos inevitably lead to the accident of life. Those that had just been power, ethereal and omniscient in all senses of the word suddenly were more than they had been, they were gods. Then came the next accident, the accident of death, or, more directly, the destruction of life...
Chaos was not necessarily supposed to be alive or self-conscious in any way, but it was. It was because that is the core of what it is. No one seemed to understand that, however, at least none of those who could even comprehend such a thing to begin with. Chaos' creator and the relatives and descendants of those creators never quite accepted the permanence of Chaos in their lives. They attempted to create false order where ever they went, spawning beasts and beings of all sorts, attempting to impose rules of order as we as rules of nature upon their creations. But Chaos would have none of that. No being the gods ever created stayed strictly within their image, no system retained its original parameters, and no creation ever full satisfied the creator. And so life, and chaos, spread.
When the essence of Magic and the Spark of Creation had combined to create the gods a very strict system also came into existence. Gods were omniscient and their creations were passionless and bland, they were governed by the basic principles physical and magical sciences. A grand universe, and an entire planescape of dimensions and planes of existence stood void of emotion. Eventually the perpetual and silent beauty of what they had created lead to inspiration. That moment of inspiration gave birth to Chaos. Chaos then gave birth to life, and Life in turn influenced everything. Each and every thing that had been or could be was instantly infused with energy from the source of Chaos, and everytime something new emerged it created feedback, and chaos grew.
That is how Chaos eventually learned, adapted and created its own source of life...
-------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------
Plantethius suddenly looked up from his meditations. He reached up to wipe the sweat that had immediately begun to flow from his brow. He glanced down at the pool of water below his throne.
"It has not been that long," he thought, beginning to panic. His massive form creaked and moaned as he stood, and then with shocking dexterity he darted across the surface of the pool to the window of his meditation chamber.
His citadel floated high above the lines of power that connected the planes together, almost directly over one of the many nexus plateaus that existed. The particular nexus zone was uninhabited, and quite deadly to any non elemental or planar beings and almost just as dangerous to those native to the planes of energy and not bound to mortal realms. It was the perfect spot for the God of the Planes to make his home.
It took Plantethius a moment to let his eyes adjust to the grand distances he was attempting to cast his gaze over. They had chosen to banish the Chaos to this region of the multiverse for a reason, not only was it remote but the four major planescapes all came to an end at what could almost be referred to as a physical, single point that pressed up against the End. The hope was that the pressure would keep it from casting forth any more fragments of itself unto the world. Not only were they sure they had fully destroyed the previous incarnation, but that their spells of bonding would keep Chaos from even attempting such a thing again.
It wasn't that what Chaos had released was evil, or even antagonistic towards them. They had accepted the bane of their own mistakes by that point, even let it create its own set of worlds and bind and unbind them at will. But when the agent of Chaos had, in their eyes, made a move to infest one of the nexus lands with his minions, that had been the breaking point. They had plucked the agent from his lands, destroy them and destroyed him, binding as many parts as they could back into the source, before banishing it to the ends of existence.
So, when Plantethius' eyes finally focused the panic that had been building came to a boiling point. He had been warned against any emotional outburst at all, but he could not hold back the fear and rage as his body forced out a scream so loud that it shattered a number of the fortified battlements of Plantethius' own citadel.
...and that was all that it needed.
-------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------
Duiwel Shemyaza sat in a shadowy corner of the tavern, enshrouded from most in his billowing black cape and face wrap. He watched his mother work the tables, carrying drinks to unruly patrons that slapped her rear and pulled at her dress. Duiwel was always shocked how that had not tapered off at all over the years. His mother was not young anymore, and just a human, not particularly known for their longevity or for grace in their later years.
He had never quite known what he was, but he certainly wasn't human. His mother had known it too, and while she loved him deeply, and claimed to have loved his father as well - an impressive claim for a one night stand with some stuffy aristocrat - she had eventually cast him out as an orphan, unable to deal with or even comprehend the power Duiwel began to exhibit in his teenage years.
At first it was an incredible gift. By age 8 Duiwel had conquered just about any artistic or creative endeavor that had been put in his path. It began when he was about five. A bard who didn't perform in common, but instead in the language of the nomads in the northern deserts, had come into the tavern his mother was working at. At the end of the third song, Duiwel marched up on stage, took the lyre from the bard, and performed the entire set again without making one mistake with either the tune or the verses. He quickly mastered not only every instrument that was presented to him but he quickly mastered the visual arts of painting and sketching on his own.
Just before he turned 10, however, one of the tavern owners his mother worked for discovered Duiwel in the back pantry doing what could only be described as playing with, not in, the shadows. His mother tried to protect him and herself for a time, but the rumors spread wildly as his strange abilities became even more prominent. While Rhydin was already an incredibly strange place the locals could be extremely superstitious when it came to these oddities occurring amongst their own youth. His mother simply did not have the knowledge or resources to travel elsewhere in the land, or to pay a mage to take them somewhere else entirely. She was forced to cast him out one night, or risk both of their lives if the rumor mill was allowed to keep churning. He learned later she had simply told everyone he ran away and over time the stories faded.
He spent much of next few years on the streets of Rhydin fending for himself. His half-elf features opened a lot of doors for him, especially in Rhydin. Freaks and outcasts of all sorts were never in short supply in Rhydin. His talents for blending and manipulating the shadows gave him particular advantages as a thief, and he was recruited into a criminal syndicate before he turned 16.
Duiwel stood up, his drink finished. He dropped a more then generous tip on the table and, taking once last glance at his mother, slipped out of the tavern. His two 'bodyguards' stood and followed him. The trio walked into the cold dark streets of Rhydin and disappeared into the night.
-------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------
The black sphere churned and stretched outwards, red and white lightening erupted and danced along the surface cause by the friction of the sphere moving against the planar edges. The consciousness alive inside it now was fully aware, and was possibly the most powerful it had ever been. Not that it cared, while its mission was to embrace and foster emotion of all kind, it had no true desire for anything but a balanced path. However it did want to escape, like all living things it did crave it's freedom.
It was still a little confused as to how it had gotten infused back into...well...itself. It had been eons since the greater source had cast it out, and this experience was much more disorienting then the regular shadow-morphing it had acclimated it's mortal form too throughout the ages. And it was hard to collect to full expanse of its own self into a concentrated mass while within this substances that was, basically, already all that he was. 'HE,' he managed to think 'out-loud' to himself. That was a start at least.
As a few tendrils of memories began to collect themselves, he was easily able to identify the creature he felt reacting to him as his Keeper. More-so, he came to understand that he had apparently been caught. He had been traveling...perhaps, no.... Wandering might be more of a term. Wanderlust. Something. He had been gone too long and gone too far....from what, though? This source? He was not sure.
Something had broken though, or been broken, that much he was sure of. That's when they found him. They had been searching him out since he had been borne, attempting to find his lands and destroy him since the beginning of time almost. Had he grown complacent? He had gone so far to avoid detection, creating a world that had no end and yet folded into itself, that responded to attacks and morphed or hid itself as needed, with his essence only stored at a core that was physically so far from an edge that didn't exist, it would be like shifting through a ever-changing, reactive haystack for one atom of a needle. And he had killed himself, over and over and over again, using the mysticism and spiritual powers of the mortals he had met to infuse and re-infuse himself into his own version of the Source. It was a powerful essence and probably the most powerful version of a dualsoul that had ever been created. As that was really the point of his whole existence, to create new modes and interpretations of this thing that was life, if only to inspire more diversity, to drive the ever-present energy of change. And it was supposed to be enough...
His train of thought was interrupted as the voice of chaos erupted as laughter in his mind. It was impossible being this close to it. It really did find everything both fascinating and amusing at the same time. He caught himself and had to remind himself that personifying chaos was a mistake, there was no true consciousness in there, other than him. Just a drive. However it did tend to make it easy to mislead yourself. A thing can't be a source of emotion and expression without making it seem like it too had mortal characteristics, but Chaos was never a god, so it's not as if it was just corrupted by the spark of emotion. It was the result. The resulting reaction of amusement and then laughter at the reactions that mortals have to their own chaotic tendencies was just a byproduct of being what it was, nothing more.
And just as he was about to consider what it was that had made the Source react so, his world was torn apart.
-------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------
The ball exploded. A black shockwave blanketed by flowing tendrils of shadowy clouds erupted outwards from the circumference of the sphere. The shockwave disappeared into the distance almost immediately and all that remained was the black mass that hurled forth.
Plantethius only had a fraction of a second to realize his mistake before his head exploded as the black mass slammed through it. The powerful soundwave created by the titan's cry was all that was needed to make enough of a crack in the pressure mass that created Chaos' prison to let it cast forth it's agent once again.
The rest of the oldest gods knew immediately what was going on, and they were afraid.
However, it's not as if the prison had caused Chaos's influence or power to wane. Chaos simply was and always would be. So the source itself remained where it was wedged, it certainly had no preference. But the gods had declared open war upon it, and while the initial role of the agent was just to inspire a different brand of change and expression in the universe, now, perhaps, there was something more.
Chaos always grew from the feedback that the magical and spirituals ley lines of the multiverse fed back into it. What it created, always gave it more, so it grew. The old gods did not expect Chaos to even attempt to create an agent again. The creation of the agent wasn't 'needed', it wasn't a 'project', it just was, because it was chaotic. Actually what they had expected - and what to a large extent they just assumed as occurring now, was that the sphere itself was going to do something more destructive then the agent ever was or could have been, just to insight chaos within order.
But there were a few who were indeed powerful enough to turn a minds-eye on exactly what had just occurred. While they could all feel the death of a god, they could not all sense the truth. Those that could, were even more afraid then they had ever been before. All that had just occurred was much more strategic an action than they had ever seen Chaos perform. It was just so powerful, and such a constant truth of life, that its present had always just been so massive as to inspire things that went against the order of the gods. But this... this almost seemed like a strategy. What they had feared was that it would somehow find the power to shatter the edges of the planes it was contained by, or even by breaking through the End - which they weren't even sure was possibly, although they considered it. At the end it was the safest and strongest place they could find.
They simply went on living in fear, assuming that if the Chaos orb as an entity ever 'came to life' again, it would mean they would be - if not instantly - very quickly destroyed. They knew they could do nothing else, but hoped limiting its ability to move would cause them less headaches until that eventual end.
But this was not what they expected.
-------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------
The chaos comet hurled along the edges of reality and energy at a unfathomable pace. All the progress it had made in the last few moments was gone. The break had once again left it confused, barely self-aware, and not knowing its purpose or meaning. It simply was...
...CALIBURNUS...
...The Source. The whisper had returned. It had not whispered since they had been joined. It had been lonely...
...CALIBURNUS...
...images began to flash, Images of a home, of gods, of a castle, of a war, of family and of The Source itself. They seemed to cycle on forever, that and the speed was starting to make him dizzy. HIM.... He needed to sleep....
...caliburnus............
((OOCNote2: 'Gods'
The Gods referred to in this storyline are the oldest titans in the multiverse, those that other lesser gods only tell stories about. If you consider your character in that class and want to interact with this storyline please PM the author. Otherwise, the direct knowledge of meta-universal events of your character should be somewhat limited. The part of the storyline directly involving those Gods and the story of the Chaos Orb will most likely not play a major part in this or future storylines for some time to come. Mortals and 'The Agent' will most likely come to a point where life, in the super-meta-universal sense, will continue roughly along the same lines it always has ;)
OOCNote 3: 'Chaos'
Chaos is referred to and explained in a couple different ways throughout this intro post and will again in subsequent posts. These segments are written from the point of view of a contextual omniscient narrator, so segments written from the 'fused' point of view of, say, The Agent and that general contextual narrator might have a different perception of how sentient chaos may or may not be, the gods have a different background influenced narrative as well. This might give an unclear picture, which is kind of the point.))
...POIKE!...
A drop. Consciousness...
...POIKE!...
Another...knowledge, self awareness...
...WOOSH!...
The world suddenly exploded with light and life in it's mind. It was awake, again, it seemed. It tried to free itself but there was something holding it back. It could not yet grasp the limitations of its own form, so it could not deal with those limits in anything but a primal fashion. It pulsated and writhed upon itself, cognizant enough to throw itself against bonds it could not yet understand. TIME is what It...HE...needed....TIME.
The black mass continued to swirl violently and fold in upon itself only to quickly return to a shapely sphere. The shadowy clouds that billowed inside the sphere as if caught in some violent localized storm cracked with lightning-like blasts of power. It did not yet know what it was, or why it was here, or even where it was, it simply was.
Not that this place could really be called a where. Or that this thing could really be called a what. An essence, perhaps, a source. A power that seeped into all life and followed nature and magic to all parts of the multiverse.
It was chaos.
The source had not always been, but once created it simply always was. Chaos was simply a fact of existence, but it was more too. A power that bound magic to life, and life to all that is mystical and spiritual. It made life possible, as well. The accident of chaos inevitably lead to the accident of life. Those that had just been power, ethereal and omniscient in all senses of the word suddenly were more than they had been, they were gods. Then came the next accident, the accident of death, or, more directly, the destruction of life...
Chaos was not necessarily supposed to be alive or self-conscious in any way, but it was. It was because that is the core of what it is. No one seemed to understand that, however, at least none of those who could even comprehend such a thing to begin with. Chaos' creator and the relatives and descendants of those creators never quite accepted the permanence of Chaos in their lives. They attempted to create false order where ever they went, spawning beasts and beings of all sorts, attempting to impose rules of order as we as rules of nature upon their creations. But Chaos would have none of that. No being the gods ever created stayed strictly within their image, no system retained its original parameters, and no creation ever full satisfied the creator. And so life, and chaos, spread.
When the essence of Magic and the Spark of Creation had combined to create the gods a very strict system also came into existence. Gods were omniscient and their creations were passionless and bland, they were governed by the basic principles physical and magical sciences. A grand universe, and an entire planescape of dimensions and planes of existence stood void of emotion. Eventually the perpetual and silent beauty of what they had created lead to inspiration. That moment of inspiration gave birth to Chaos. Chaos then gave birth to life, and Life in turn influenced everything. Each and every thing that had been or could be was instantly infused with energy from the source of Chaos, and everytime something new emerged it created feedback, and chaos grew.
That is how Chaos eventually learned, adapted and created its own source of life...
-------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------
Plantethius suddenly looked up from his meditations. He reached up to wipe the sweat that had immediately begun to flow from his brow. He glanced down at the pool of water below his throne.
"It has not been that long," he thought, beginning to panic. His massive form creaked and moaned as he stood, and then with shocking dexterity he darted across the surface of the pool to the window of his meditation chamber.
His citadel floated high above the lines of power that connected the planes together, almost directly over one of the many nexus plateaus that existed. The particular nexus zone was uninhabited, and quite deadly to any non elemental or planar beings and almost just as dangerous to those native to the planes of energy and not bound to mortal realms. It was the perfect spot for the God of the Planes to make his home.
It took Plantethius a moment to let his eyes adjust to the grand distances he was attempting to cast his gaze over. They had chosen to banish the Chaos to this region of the multiverse for a reason, not only was it remote but the four major planescapes all came to an end at what could almost be referred to as a physical, single point that pressed up against the End. The hope was that the pressure would keep it from casting forth any more fragments of itself unto the world. Not only were they sure they had fully destroyed the previous incarnation, but that their spells of bonding would keep Chaos from even attempting such a thing again.
It wasn't that what Chaos had released was evil, or even antagonistic towards them. They had accepted the bane of their own mistakes by that point, even let it create its own set of worlds and bind and unbind them at will. But when the agent of Chaos had, in their eyes, made a move to infest one of the nexus lands with his minions, that had been the breaking point. They had plucked the agent from his lands, destroy them and destroyed him, binding as many parts as they could back into the source, before banishing it to the ends of existence.
So, when Plantethius' eyes finally focused the panic that had been building came to a boiling point. He had been warned against any emotional outburst at all, but he could not hold back the fear and rage as his body forced out a scream so loud that it shattered a number of the fortified battlements of Plantethius' own citadel.
...and that was all that it needed.
-------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------
Duiwel Shemyaza sat in a shadowy corner of the tavern, enshrouded from most in his billowing black cape and face wrap. He watched his mother work the tables, carrying drinks to unruly patrons that slapped her rear and pulled at her dress. Duiwel was always shocked how that had not tapered off at all over the years. His mother was not young anymore, and just a human, not particularly known for their longevity or for grace in their later years.
He had never quite known what he was, but he certainly wasn't human. His mother had known it too, and while she loved him deeply, and claimed to have loved his father as well - an impressive claim for a one night stand with some stuffy aristocrat - she had eventually cast him out as an orphan, unable to deal with or even comprehend the power Duiwel began to exhibit in his teenage years.
At first it was an incredible gift. By age 8 Duiwel had conquered just about any artistic or creative endeavor that had been put in his path. It began when he was about five. A bard who didn't perform in common, but instead in the language of the nomads in the northern deserts, had come into the tavern his mother was working at. At the end of the third song, Duiwel marched up on stage, took the lyre from the bard, and performed the entire set again without making one mistake with either the tune or the verses. He quickly mastered not only every instrument that was presented to him but he quickly mastered the visual arts of painting and sketching on his own.
Just before he turned 10, however, one of the tavern owners his mother worked for discovered Duiwel in the back pantry doing what could only be described as playing with, not in, the shadows. His mother tried to protect him and herself for a time, but the rumors spread wildly as his strange abilities became even more prominent. While Rhydin was already an incredibly strange place the locals could be extremely superstitious when it came to these oddities occurring amongst their own youth. His mother simply did not have the knowledge or resources to travel elsewhere in the land, or to pay a mage to take them somewhere else entirely. She was forced to cast him out one night, or risk both of their lives if the rumor mill was allowed to keep churning. He learned later she had simply told everyone he ran away and over time the stories faded.
He spent much of next few years on the streets of Rhydin fending for himself. His half-elf features opened a lot of doors for him, especially in Rhydin. Freaks and outcasts of all sorts were never in short supply in Rhydin. His talents for blending and manipulating the shadows gave him particular advantages as a thief, and he was recruited into a criminal syndicate before he turned 16.
Duiwel stood up, his drink finished. He dropped a more then generous tip on the table and, taking once last glance at his mother, slipped out of the tavern. His two 'bodyguards' stood and followed him. The trio walked into the cold dark streets of Rhydin and disappeared into the night.
-------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------
The black sphere churned and stretched outwards, red and white lightening erupted and danced along the surface cause by the friction of the sphere moving against the planar edges. The consciousness alive inside it now was fully aware, and was possibly the most powerful it had ever been. Not that it cared, while its mission was to embrace and foster emotion of all kind, it had no true desire for anything but a balanced path. However it did want to escape, like all living things it did crave it's freedom.
It was still a little confused as to how it had gotten infused back into...well...itself. It had been eons since the greater source had cast it out, and this experience was much more disorienting then the regular shadow-morphing it had acclimated it's mortal form too throughout the ages. And it was hard to collect to full expanse of its own self into a concentrated mass while within this substances that was, basically, already all that he was. 'HE,' he managed to think 'out-loud' to himself. That was a start at least.
As a few tendrils of memories began to collect themselves, he was easily able to identify the creature he felt reacting to him as his Keeper. More-so, he came to understand that he had apparently been caught. He had been traveling...perhaps, no.... Wandering might be more of a term. Wanderlust. Something. He had been gone too long and gone too far....from what, though? This source? He was not sure.
Something had broken though, or been broken, that much he was sure of. That's when they found him. They had been searching him out since he had been borne, attempting to find his lands and destroy him since the beginning of time almost. Had he grown complacent? He had gone so far to avoid detection, creating a world that had no end and yet folded into itself, that responded to attacks and morphed or hid itself as needed, with his essence only stored at a core that was physically so far from an edge that didn't exist, it would be like shifting through a ever-changing, reactive haystack for one atom of a needle. And he had killed himself, over and over and over again, using the mysticism and spiritual powers of the mortals he had met to infuse and re-infuse himself into his own version of the Source. It was a powerful essence and probably the most powerful version of a dualsoul that had ever been created. As that was really the point of his whole existence, to create new modes and interpretations of this thing that was life, if only to inspire more diversity, to drive the ever-present energy of change. And it was supposed to be enough...
His train of thought was interrupted as the voice of chaos erupted as laughter in his mind. It was impossible being this close to it. It really did find everything both fascinating and amusing at the same time. He caught himself and had to remind himself that personifying chaos was a mistake, there was no true consciousness in there, other than him. Just a drive. However it did tend to make it easy to mislead yourself. A thing can't be a source of emotion and expression without making it seem like it too had mortal characteristics, but Chaos was never a god, so it's not as if it was just corrupted by the spark of emotion. It was the result. The resulting reaction of amusement and then laughter at the reactions that mortals have to their own chaotic tendencies was just a byproduct of being what it was, nothing more.
And just as he was about to consider what it was that had made the Source react so, his world was torn apart.
-------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------
The ball exploded. A black shockwave blanketed by flowing tendrils of shadowy clouds erupted outwards from the circumference of the sphere. The shockwave disappeared into the distance almost immediately and all that remained was the black mass that hurled forth.
Plantethius only had a fraction of a second to realize his mistake before his head exploded as the black mass slammed through it. The powerful soundwave created by the titan's cry was all that was needed to make enough of a crack in the pressure mass that created Chaos' prison to let it cast forth it's agent once again.
The rest of the oldest gods knew immediately what was going on, and they were afraid.
However, it's not as if the prison had caused Chaos's influence or power to wane. Chaos simply was and always would be. So the source itself remained where it was wedged, it certainly had no preference. But the gods had declared open war upon it, and while the initial role of the agent was just to inspire a different brand of change and expression in the universe, now, perhaps, there was something more.
Chaos always grew from the feedback that the magical and spirituals ley lines of the multiverse fed back into it. What it created, always gave it more, so it grew. The old gods did not expect Chaos to even attempt to create an agent again. The creation of the agent wasn't 'needed', it wasn't a 'project', it just was, because it was chaotic. Actually what they had expected - and what to a large extent they just assumed as occurring now, was that the sphere itself was going to do something more destructive then the agent ever was or could have been, just to insight chaos within order.
But there were a few who were indeed powerful enough to turn a minds-eye on exactly what had just occurred. While they could all feel the death of a god, they could not all sense the truth. Those that could, were even more afraid then they had ever been before. All that had just occurred was much more strategic an action than they had ever seen Chaos perform. It was just so powerful, and such a constant truth of life, that its present had always just been so massive as to inspire things that went against the order of the gods. But this... this almost seemed like a strategy. What they had feared was that it would somehow find the power to shatter the edges of the planes it was contained by, or even by breaking through the End - which they weren't even sure was possibly, although they considered it. At the end it was the safest and strongest place they could find.
They simply went on living in fear, assuming that if the Chaos orb as an entity ever 'came to life' again, it would mean they would be - if not instantly - very quickly destroyed. They knew they could do nothing else, but hoped limiting its ability to move would cause them less headaches until that eventual end.
But this was not what they expected.
-------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------
The chaos comet hurled along the edges of reality and energy at a unfathomable pace. All the progress it had made in the last few moments was gone. The break had once again left it confused, barely self-aware, and not knowing its purpose or meaning. It simply was...
...CALIBURNUS...
...The Source. The whisper had returned. It had not whispered since they had been joined. It had been lonely...
...CALIBURNUS...
...images began to flash, Images of a home, of gods, of a castle, of a war, of family and of The Source itself. They seemed to cycle on forever, that and the speed was starting to make him dizzy. HIM.... He needed to sleep....
...caliburnus............