Daydreams of an angel and a fish

[Zorafim]

The Fan Works forum has seen an explosion of activity lately, hasn't it? People you see all over the place suddenly show you their impressive talents they've been training for years, which you didn't even know they had. Or, people inspired by more skilled artists start training their skills, and show their fellow posters their progress.

It seems like all the cool posters have started writing stories. It makes sense. When you create a character in a Phantasy Star game, you're given so much freedom of creation, and spend so much time with your character, that you can't help but start to think up why s/he's there. Well, simply put, I'm feeling jealous of everyone's skills, and want to try out writing for myself. I've been building Levia for ten years, and Zorael for twenty. It's about time I put down their stories into words. Both for myself (to finally formalize their personalities), and for my fellow posters (who want to know more about my characters).

I'm going to be doing things a bit differently. My story doesn't have a smooth beginning, middle, and end. No major conflicts to be averted, no major character flaws to overcome. My story, instead, will tell of major events in the lives of my characters, or will summarize a stage of life with a single event. Because of this (and my complete lack of training as a writer and story teller), my stories probably won't be all that interesting. At the very least, they won't be very suspenseful, and won't leave you wondering what will happen next, or how our heroes will get out of this hairy situation.

I actually don't know how far I'll get. I'd like to go over the major points until I reach the beginning of PSO2. But I've been known to drop projects part way through. Hopefully I'll be able to get through all the major points.

Another note, my story will be taking place in the world of christian mythology (theology? I'm not quite sure). I can see this offending both christians and atheists alike. So I want to be clear. My universe will be based on a dramatization of the bible. That is, I'm not going to say "this is right" and "this is wrong" by christian decree, but rather "this happened at this one time" and "these things totally exist". So hopefully my story will be as much christian propaganda as Wonder Woman is Greek propaganda.

First dream: The Graceful Fall (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3021737&postcount=2)
Second Dream: A Slight Miscalculation (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3022331&postcount=6)
Third Dream: First Contact, part 2 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3022573&postcount=8)
Third Dream: First Contact, part 1 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3023176&postcount=9)
Third Dream: First Contact, part 3 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3023645&postcount=10)
Third Dream: First Contact, epilogue. (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3024123&postcount=16)
Fourth Dream: A Study in Magic (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3027125&postcount=21)
Fifth Dream: A Study in Warfare, part 1 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3028585&postcount=23)
Fifth Dream: A Study in Warfare, part 2 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3029291&postcount=24)
Fifth Dream: A Study in Warfare, part 3 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3033267&postcount=28)
Fifth Dream: A Study in Warfare, part 4 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3034101&postcount=31)
Fifth Dream: A Study in Warfare, part 5 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3042625&postcount=34)
Fifth Dream: A study in Warfare, part 6 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3048083&postcount=36)
Fifth Dream: A Study in Warfare, part 7 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3051303&postcount=38)
Fifth Dream: A Study in Warfare, part 8 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3054476&postcount=42)
Fifth Dream: A Study in Warfare, part 9 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3058313&postcount=47)
Fifth Dream: A Study in Warfare, part 10 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3059141&postcount=50)
Fifth Dream: A Study in Warfare, part 11 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3061126&postcount=55)
Fifth Dream: A Study in Warfare, part 12 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3065923&postcount=58)
Fifth Dream: A Study in Warfare, part 13 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3066962&postcount=62)
Fifth Dream: A Study in Warfare, part 14 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3069607&postcount=65)
Fifth Dream: A Study in Warfare, Epilogue (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3071104&postcount=68)
Sixth Dream: Another Day's End (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3071499&postcount=69)
Seventh Dream: Troubled Meditation (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3073824&postcount=72)
Eighth Dream: Questionable Morality (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3079083&postcount=78)
Ninth Dream: Preperations (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3080749&postcount=81)
Tenth Dream: Inadequate Skillset, part 1 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3081274&postcount=84)
Tenth Dream: Inadequate Skillset, part 2 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3081602&postcount=88)
Tenth Dream: Inadequate Skillset, part 3 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3082033&postcount=91)
Tenth Dream: Inadequate Skillset, part 4 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3082251&postcount=95)
Tenth Dream: Inadequate Skillset, part 5 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3084419&postcount=99)
Tenth Dream: Inadequate Skillset, part 6 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3087130&postcount=102)
Tenth Dream: Inadequate Skillset, part 7 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3089544&postcount=106)
Tenth Dream: Inadequate Skillset, part 8 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3091393&postcount=109)
Tenth Dream: Inadequate Skillset, part 9 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3091663&postcount=113)
Tenth Dream: Inadequate Skillset, part 10 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3091669&postcount=114)
Tenth Dream: Inadequate Skillset, epilogue (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3092458&postcount=116)
Eleventh Dream: Faltering Confidence (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3093694&postcount=119)
Twelfth Dream: The Price of Perfection, part 1 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3097017&postcount=122)
Twelfth Dream: The Price of Perfection, part 2 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3100710&postcount=125)
Twelfth Dream: The Price of Perfection, part 3 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3104584&postcount=135)
Twelfth Dream: The Price of Perfection, part 4 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3109296&postcount=137)
Twelfth Dream: The Price of Perfection, part 5 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3111534&postcount=143)
Twelfth Dream: The Price of Perfection, part 6 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3113608&postcount=146)
Twelfth Dream: The Price of Perfection, part 7 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3118047&postcount=157)
Twelfth Dream: The Price of Perfection, Epilogue (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3122828&postcount=170)
Thirteen Dream: Damage Prevention (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3125318&postcount=175)
Fourteenth Dream: Growth, part 1 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3125575&postcount=177)
Fourteenth Dream: Growth, part 2 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3126856&postcount=179)
Fourteenth Dream: Growth, part 3 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3128005&postcount=185)
Fifteenth Dream: Visitors (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3141210&postcount=194)
Sixteenth Dream: Lesson (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3142037&postcount=198)
Seventeenth Dream: Mastery (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3144956&postcount=202)
Eighteenth Dream: Missive (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3154030&postcount=212)
Ninteenth Dream: Unset Curriculum (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3179677&postcount=216)
Twentieth Dream: Fulfilled Dreams (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3182250&postcount=218)
Twenty First Dream: Calling (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3193011&postcount=222)
First Analysis: Fear (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3202166&postcount=229)
Second Analysis: Observation (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3213698&postcount=232)
Third Analysis: Communication (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3234264&postcount=234)
Fourth Analysis: Understanding (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3237288&postcount=244)
Fifth Analysis: Pride (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3248290&postcount=263)
Sixth Analysis: Competition (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3257255&postcount=267)
Seventh Analysis: Emptiness, part 1 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3310116&postcount=279)
Seventh Analysis: Emptiness, part 2 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3312838&postcount=289)
Seventh Analysis: Emptiness, part 3 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3336373&postcount=292)
Eighth Analysis: Awakening (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3343041&postcount=303)
Ninth Analysis: Courage (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3344707&postcount=321)
Tenth Analysis: Kindness (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showthread.php?211474-Daydreams-of-an-angel-and-a-fish&p=3384852&viewfull=1#post3384852)

First Nightmare: A Memory of Inspiration (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3024818&postcount=18)
First Trip: The One where Things Happen, part 5 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3115534&postcount=149)
Second Trip: The One Where I Go to PSO2 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3247532&postcount=259)
Third Trip: The One with Awesome Stuff (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3344098&postcount=312)

My Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/user/Zorafin
My DeviantArt: http://zorafin.deviantart.com/
My FictionPress: https://www.fictionpress.com/u/959174/
My Soundcloud: https://soundcloud.com/michael-h-montgomery/

[Zorafim]

First Dream: The Graceful Fall

[spoiler-box]“Majesty… I’ve served you well, haven’t I?”

To call this area a throne room would be the greatest praise you could give to any throne room. And to call it magnificent would be a grave insult to the beauty of the structure. Yet there are no other words to express the splendor of this place. For the words of men were meant to express meaning in the world of man, and the celestial words needed to fully express the details of the room are unknowable to men. So forgive my insult, and simply believe my words.
This was a magnificent throne room.

“I’ve served you since the time of my death. And in the millennia since my ascension, I can’t recall you giving me a single complaint. “

Once again, words fail to capture the scene. This scene takes place in a world of spirits, invisible to a human’s eyes. The words are not so much heard, as they are felt. Their meaning is understood not by processing a series of noises in to a vague concept, but rather by two spirits feeling each other’s thoughts and emotions. Yet, I will try to do my best to communicate the scene.

“Has my service been… acceptable? Are you satisfied with all I have done?”

There were two souls in the room. One was a holy spirit, kneeling humbly before a set of stairs. His eyes cast down. His soul, uneasy. High above him sat the second soul, his presence shining like a great star. He shone with light, to give sight to all of his kingdom. He shone with power, giving strength to all who lived there. He shone with joy, and happiness, and humility, and every good feeling and emotion, to give peace to all of his creations. Sitting on his radiant throne, made of the very light of creation which gave life to the universe, and strength to everything holy, was the king of creation.
A young angel was kneeling before his god. And his god spoke.

“My son, why are you troubled? You know well how good your service has been to me. When you came in to my kingdom, you made a noble choice. One very few humans take. You could have chosen to rest and live in joy, with the friends and the family you had in life, in my paradise. Living in death and enjoying this kingdom of heaven. Yet instead, you lowered yourself. Instead of eating and dancing with your neighbor, you instead sent messages, and gave food, and sung and played music for your brothers. The works you have done, I would have had to create many angels to do. You have done far more than what has been expected from you. And you have done so happily. Why, then, do you now doubt yourself?”

The angel steeled himself. He came to ask a favor. Not unheard of, for either angel or saint. But his request was strange. He did not know how to ask it, or how his god would react to the question. But, God was awaiting his response. And so, the angel spoke.

“Yes, I am happy serving as your angel. Making my brothers happy makes me happy. And being allowed to handle your works, and make them prosper… There are no words. There’s nowhere I would rather live than in this paradise, and I rejoice in all the power you’ve given me.

"I live daily with your greatest creations. But, there are so many of your creations I haven’t seen! I’ve served in every layer of heaven. I have sent messages to every ring of hell. I’ve searched every corner of purgatory in search of souls ready to ascend to heaven. And I’ve done your will everywhere on earth. And still, there are so many things that I haven’t seen yet! Galaxies no soul has seen. Strange, exotic planets. Nebulae of every color placed like paintings in the sky.

"And so… it’s difficult for me to ask this… If you are satisfied with everything I have done… I would like to be relieved of my service, and to leave heaven to see your universe with my own eyes.”

Those were the words he feared to say. “To leave heaven”. Most angels who leave, do so either because they have become unfit for heaven, or because they harbor evil feelings for heaven and its people. In both cases, these spirits are either cast in to hell, or go there of their own will. From then on, they are known as demons. And from then on, they are no longer welcome into heaven, and can no longer speak with those they once loved.

Of the remaining angels, most are made by God, and lack the wills of humans. While beautiful and powerful, they do not wonder or explore. And even those angels made from human souls are satisfied in heaven. They have no reason to leave.

Because of these things, the angel feared. He has never heard of an angel wanting to leave heaven. He did not know what to expect. Would he be considered corrupt, and be cast in to hell? Would he be stripped of his power and live as the rest of the saints? Most likely, nothing would happen. But he wondered.

God lowered his head, thoughtfully. After a moment, he raised his head, and rest his eyes on the angel.

“I am indeed satisfied with your works, and am glad for all of your service. If you wish to leave, I have no power to stop you. And if you wish to return, I will welcome you with open arms. So long as you obey my laws and uphold my will, you will always be welcome. But be warned. All of your power comes from me, and you can carry only a tiny fraction of my power. If you leave, you will not be able to use much of my holy power before being drained of your strength. You will not be able to rely on the power you have become used to. Do you understand?”

The angel did not expect this. His power did indeed come from God, so of course he would not be able to use much of it when away from heaven. He would need to find some other form of power to do everything he would need to do. Giving a sigh, the angel responded.

“I understand. I will uphold your law, and do your will. Even away from your kingdom, I will make you proud. And I will find some other power if your strength is not enough.”

God nodded and spoke.

“Then go, Zorael, my child. Sate your curiosity in my endless domain until you are satisfied.”

The angel Zorael stood, bowed joyfully, turned, and left. He stood just at the gates of heaven. He peered out, and saw all the universe in its entirety.

“The entire universe… Where should I start?”[/spoiler-box]

Author's notes:
[spoiler-box]Sorry this one's not that interesting. All I had to go by here is "Zorael gets daddy's permission to leave home". Hopefully I embellished it enough that it's not too boring. I was hoping to blind you to the bad writing by adding in some high fantasy.

And, another thing. I was totally going for a biblical style of writing. Especially when voicing God. So if you think the wordings are awkward: completely intentional. I really just wanted to spend as little time in heaven as possible, while at the same time portraying some of its majesty. I also awkwardly rushed in some rules for our hero, which hopefully should add some interest later on.[/spoiler-box]

Second Dream: A Slight Miscalculation (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3022331&postcount=6)

[yoshiblue]

Twas pretty good. Was also funny to imagine the Zoras speaking in a biblical manner. Opens up for an interesting story.

[Puppet_Papaya]

The dialogue is considerably thoughtful, as though you chose each word carefully. So far I'm very intrigued. I don't mind if there are no major conflicts, I'd be content in just exploring this world.

[o0Kais0o]

An angel willing to leave the presence of their god because of their curiosity about the universe. Yep I'm intrigued ^^ I liked the dialogue, having an all powerful being speaking as a regular guy just wouldn't work lol.

[Zorafim]

Second Dream: A Slight Miscalculation

[spoiler-box]‘I might not have thought this through.’

Zorael looked out into space inside of a nebula made completely of water. The lights in the night sky danced through the water as the surface rippled, and became distorted in the flowing water. By the time the light reached him, the distortion was like a light show made specifically for him. “One of God’s most beautiful creations, and nobody even knows it exists”, was his remark when he first found it.

Not that he really had eyes to see it. Or rather, it wasn’t like he was centered in the nebula, just looking out. He had a sort of omnificent sight all souls had. He could position his sight at one point in space and time, and look out in every direction at once. Things became cloudy past a certain point. Objects become smaller and clouded in space, the past condensed into a point, and the future expanded into infinite possibilities, all of them happening simultaneously. The angel himself was stationed sort of above all of it. Like an observer peering through a glass plane in every direction, but not part of what he’s looking at.

And that was his problem. He could see everything, but he couldn’t be a part of it. He could gaze at the dancing lights in the nebula he currently placed himself in. He could hear the magnificent roar of a blazing star, and feel its intense heat (“see”, “hear”, and “feel”, of course being loose translations of the actual sensations a soul would feel). But, he couldn’t really interact with anything without help.

At first, he didn’t even know he would want to. He was more than pleased going from planet to planet, and star to star, and seeing all the new things. “I haven’t seen anything new in centuries”. But being some place without leaving your mark was unsatisfying. And knowing that a beautiful, fragile environment would be destroyed, and not being able to do anything about it, was depressing.

He had his holy energy, of course. But he squandered all of it before long. He could have borrowed a living body. But that would be destroyed before long, and could not move as quickly as a free soul. And so he sat in the middle of a nebula. And he watched. And he thought.

‘I can’t physically move or change an object. That would require hands. If I got hands, I would be greatly encumbered, and wouldn’t be able to do anything anyway. I do know how everything would move, why it would move, and how to cause it to move the way I want. But I can’t do anything to start moving it the way I want. I could go back to heaven to recharge my light… But at the rate I’m going, I would have to go back every few days. Not to mention the shame of going back just for a bit of power. I’d be nothing more than a leech.’

And so he pondered for several days. He went over every fact of his situation, all of his possible actions, and every combination of them all. He looked at all the likely outcomes of each scenario, and tried to find one he liked.
He sighed, and changed his position. He sat closer to the surface, watching the stars dance under the ripples.

‘Why can I move things with holy power, and not without it? Surely, the light of creation is powerful. But power alone isn’t enough to cause something to happen. There needs to be a force directing that power. So… If I were to direct power, without a source of power… That would be pointless. There’s nothing to move the object.’

Zorael turned his focus back to the nebula of water. Out of curiosity, he tried moving some. For a long time, he tried different ways to move it. All based on his experiences as an angel. No matter what he tried, the water simply danced under its own weight, and ignored the will of the spirit.

He sighed, and he focused. He ignored his sight, and his hearing, and all of his senses. Instead of looking at the information the universe gave off; instead of looking at light refracting off objects, or vibrations caused by sudden movement; he looked at the universe itself. He saw every molecule of water around him. He saw the photons being reflected off each molecule. And he saw the forces binding the molecules together.

He focused closer on the binding force. It was changing based on each molecule’s distance from each other. He focused on a specific instant in time, and saw an exact number. He focused his will on one specific binding force, and tried his hardest to change it. A slight adjustment.

The binding force became weaker. A fraction of a percent weaker, but it was a change. The molecule would move off track, and eventually be in a spot it was never supposed to be in. Zorael created a new future.

“Whoa. Let me do that again…”[/spoiler-box]

Third Dream: First Contact, part 2 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3022573&postcount=8)

[o0Kais0o]

I can't help but feel Zorael is getting in over his head, I like the way this is turning out.

[Zorafim]

Third Dream: First Contact, part 2

[spoiler-box]The room was bare, save for a few necessities. An uncomfortable bed to sleep on and a basic table to place his belongings were all that decorated the small, spartan room. The only other points of interest were the uncomfortably low ceiling, and some windows to look out at the rest of the village. He had made the cabin when he was young, and it has not changed since then. His wife slept with him on the bed when she was still alive. The only thing missing from this room was her.

With some effort, the door opened. The owner of this house entered, and struggled to shut the door. He was tired. Always tired. When he was young, he had energy. He was looked up to as a hunter, as a builder, and as a man. Those days have long since passed. He didn’t have the energy to chase food, or the strength to carve bone or wood. All that he has now is his wisdom and experience, which all the young men ignore just like he ignored his elders when he was young. Now this generation is doomed to make the same mistakes he did.

He groaned as he inched toward his bed; his bones creaking, and his muscles aching. Another pointless day. He just sat in the middle of the village, telling his stories to anyone who would listen. Which wasn’t very many people. In a tribe this small, everyone has heard every story at least once. And nobody seemed to like his. Men complained as he lived off their work, just like he complained when he had to work extra for his elders when he was young.

He reached the bed, sat down, and groaned down to a sleeping position. Sleep didn’t come easy for him. It never did. So he just laid there, and slowly drifted off…

“What do you want?”

The old man darted up and looked around in fear. Nobody was in his cabin. Nobody would want to be. “A voice from outside”, he reasoned, and laid back down. “It sounded like it came from right next to me”, a voice nagged at the back of his head. It took him a while to get comfortable again.

“What do you want?”

He darted up again. The voice came from right behind him. He wanted to check every corner of his cabin for the voice, but he hurt too much to move. “Who’s there?”, he demanded. Nothing answered him. Paranoid, he laid back down. He spent a few minutes darting his eyes around the room to make sure nothing would attack him, before his weariness overtook him.

“What do you want?”

He started, but didn’t get up this time.

“I don’t have anything of any value. Go away!”
“Nobody wants your stuff, old man. Go to sleep!”

That voice came from outside. His fear was replaced with indignant anger at the youth’s attitude, but he did what she wanted. He turned to his side and closed his eyes. The room around him darkened, and his senses dulled, as he fell asleep.

“What do you want?”

He opened his eyes calmly, and sat up. He was still in his room, everything where it should be. But his walls were gone, and his floor disappeared into darkness. He didn’t notice, though. Nor did he notice the complete lack of pain which normally comes with his movement. Instead, he was calmly looking at a figure in front of him. Far enough that he couldn’t make anything out, but close enough that the figure was unmistakable. It looked like a man. Not tall, or short, or big, or thin. Just, a man. Or maybe a woman. He couldn’t tell from this distance, and it was hard to tell from the voice. The voice wasn’t loud, or soft, or deep, or high. It was just a voice. But he was probably a man.

“You live life in misery, thinking back to your youth. Nobody remembers what you have done for them, and they don’t try to see how useful you still are. Your days are fruitless, and you always hope that something will happen to you. So tell me, what do you hope will happen? What do you want?”

‘Strange man. Asking such a strange question. Is he another indignant youngster making fun of me again?’, the old man thought.

“I want some recognition! I’ve done more than these young fools who think they own the tribe. I’ve fed the tribe for years. The stuff they take for granted and use every day? I built that! They’re still using tools and tricks I developed when I hunted, and they don’t even know who made them! What do I want? Some damn respect!”

The figure smiled gently. Maybe. It felt like he was smiling.

“I can give you the respect you deserve. It’s much simpler to get it than you realize. If you do me a favor, you will have it.”

“Ha. You don’t know what you’re getting in to. How do you expect to get these punks to care about anything but themselves?”

“Again, it is simpler than you realize. I can’t tell you my method, but do me this favor, and you will have your respect.”

The old man scoffed before he spoke. “Ha, fine. Suppose I believe you. What do you want, some kind of treasure or something?”

“Your body.”

Surprise and fear welled up in the old man. He looked around. He realized it was wrong. He realized he was in his bed, but that he could see out into the night’s darkness through the walls. He focused on the man he was talking to, and saw nothing but a shrouded shadow. He finally realized he was dreaming, and started to wake up. The walls of his house formed, until he could only see out into the darkness of the dream through his open door.

“Hold.”

The door didn’t form. He could barely see the man, and barely hear his words.

“If you leave now, you will never get what you want.”

Days filled with disrespect, every waking moment spent in pain, and everything just getting worse until the day he dies. The front wall disappeared again, and he once again had full view of the shadowed man. At his feet slithered snakes and spiders. All around him were prowling beasts. Behind him, great monsters stomped the ground. All had black bodies and red, glowing eyes.

“Do not fear. I haven’t come to hurt you in any way.”

“Don’t lie to me! You want to steal my body! That sounds like you want to hurt me!”

“Not steal. Borrow. I’ve come here for a reason, and I need your body to get what I want. Once I have it, I will leave you in peace. You won’t notice I’m in there, and you will be able to do everything you want, just like you can now. The only difference is, I’ll be able to do what I want, too. And if you don’t like what I’m doing, you can kick me out at any time. So, what do you say? Are you willing to give me a shot?”

The old man’s fear started to subside. The snakes and spiders dug into the ground. The beasts slunk away into their hiding places. The great monsters laid down. And all the old man could see was a harmless cloaked man.

“I won’t notice you’re here?”

“Correct.”

“And I can kick you out at any time?”

“Correct.”

“And these kids will finally acknowledge me?”

“If I’m able to find what I want, you will be beloved by all until the day you die.”

The old man was still doubtful. This seemed like an evil spirit, trying to trick him. But, what would a spirit want from a desperate old man? He would likely die soon. He can’t do anything. If he wanted to steal a body, why not a young man’s? And why would he need to ask permission before taking it?

“A… alright. What do I have to lose?”

“You won’t regret your choice.”

The shadowed man walked towards him. As he passed the threshold of the house, the front wall formed, and the door closed. He walked closer, unobstructed by the bed. He touched the old man’s breast, and his hand went into his heart. The rest of the body followed, until all of the shadow was inside the old man.


He opened his eyes. Light was pouring through the windows. He heard children playing outside, and couples arguing. In no hurry, he took his time getting out of bed. The dream he just had was still fresh in his mind. He checked himself. “I’m all here. No body stolen.” He laughed at his childishness, put on his clothing, and head out to start his day.

He didn’t realize his aches were gone. He didn’t notice the bounce in his step. He didn’t notice the desire to make a good day for himself. And he didn’t notice the burning curiosity eating at him.
[/spoiler-box]

Third Dream: First Contact, part 1 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3023176&postcount=9)

[Zorafim]

Third Dream: First Contact, part 1

[spoiler-box]Zorael floated along the surface of the planet, studying its intricacies. He marveled at its deep canyons and steep mountains, and was always enraptured by its exotic color. This was a random planet, circling some random star, in the middle of nowhere. He came here by pure chance, the same way he’s been drawn to countless other planets. He studied the planet’s past, and saw its future. The same story as every other planet, but twisted to its own style.

Satisfied, the angel lifted up and looked to the sky. He explored all of the planets of this star system, and so he looked for a new place to explore. He knew most of the stars he saw, already having explored them. He could visualize each one, and knew how they were placed in relation to one another. And so he picked one he’s been meaning to see, and blinked.

The same instant, he appeared at his destination. Well, not quite “appeared”. He didn’t have a physical form to see. Nor was his incorporeal form directly placed on any plane of the physical universe. Regardless, I’ll use the word “appeared” for the sake of storytelling. He excitedly hurried to the first planet he found, and explored it just like all the others. He scanned its surface, he visited its past, and he saw its future. He did this for every planet of the star system, until he came across one that looked… odd.

“The surface is stained by some sort of discoloration. Different layers of crust being exposed to the surface? And that discoloration over there… An ocean? How interesting! A strange liquid, though… Not water. What is it?”

He zoomed to the surface, and noted how the liquid interacted with the atmosphere of the planet. “An atmosphere, too! Strange, and toxic. Wonderful!” He hurried along like a child, seeing all he could see of this strange interaction between liquid and air. His curiosity sated, he went back to check out the discoloration he saw on the land. And then he stopped, and stared in disbelief.

He was looking over a forest.

He glowed and smiled with excitement. He zoomed from plant to plant, happily studying its every characteristic. “Life? Here? That’s not possible! Did God make this planet, too? But then, why hasn’t he said anything about it? Surely he’d put as much work into it as he puts into earth. Does he have another work force for this planet? Another heaven? It’s possible, but…

“Perhaps, another god? I can’t rule out the possibility. If one created earth, surely another could exist that created another planet. No, that can’t be right. God created the universe. Another god couldn’t have just come in here and started making things. Besides being difficult to get to this universe, God would surely protect it. Not to mention how rude it is to just barge in here…”

The angel’s thoughts were overwhelmed at the possibilities and the implications that finding life created. And while pondering these things, he went over every organism he could find. The plants weren’t green. Nor did they have trunks, or stems. They weren’t anything like plants found on earth. They couldn’t really technically be considered plants. But, they were plant-like life forms, covering the land, and changing the planet’s atmosphere. The angel darted from plant to plant until-“Animal!”

A small creature darted off into some cover. A creature unlike anything on earth. Like the plants, it couldn’t technically be considered an animal, considering all the differences between the basic definition of animal and this creature. But it breathed, and it moved. He studied the workings of this creature, and went off in search for more. He studied “plant” and “animal”, one after another, until he found something that caused him to stop in disbelief.

He was looking over a village. There were houses, crudely made and small. Small creatures playing in clearings. Adults manipulating tools and objects. Groups… possibly communicating. He passed by a few of these creatures on his way here, but he didn’t think they were any different from the other animals. Now that he saw all of this, though…

If it is possible for a soul to squee, that’s just what the angel did.

He darted from creature to creature, and studied their makings. He looked at how each individual moved, and interacted with its surroundings. He saw how each one interacted with its peers. He looked for group dynamics. Where there leaders? Servants? Kings? Slaves? Were the children shoved aside, or cherished? He got all the information he could from the tribe, and went out to look for more. He found small tribes, and he found large tribes. Each one was slightly different, but overall similar. He noted that the technological level wasn’t very high. “They must not have been a tribal community for long. It looks like they’ve just started advancing.”

He checked back in time to see where they came from. And as far back as he could see, he saw the same thing. Tribal community. He looked forward, and saw the same thing. The species was doomed to stagnation. Nothing was driving them forward. His spirit dimmed in disappointment. “Boring.” He went back to studying them. After a long while, he saw why they were stagnating. The most celebrated members of the tribes were the strongest members. To them, a wise man was someone who could figure out how to be strong the easiest. “So if I taught them the value of their intelligence…”

He looked through time and space for a good place to start. It would have to be early, and it would have to be in a place where his work would spread. After finding a place, he needed to find a suitable creature. One without major drive or motivation, yet unhappy with the way things are. And eventually, he found one. Seemingly an outcast, the tribe didn’t seem to rely on it. It moved slowly, and with effort. He knew enough of this species to see that this weak creature had everything he needed. He waited until its spirits were low enough, but it still strong enough to move fairly freely. And when he found the right time, he put his plan into action.[/spoiler-box]

Third Dream: First Contact, part 3 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3023645&postcount=10)

[Zorafim]

Third Dream: First Contact, part 3

[spoiler-box]“That was easier than I expected.”

Zorael floated above the creature he was currently possessing. He wasn’t sure how well his possession would go. It’s been a few centuries since the angel had to possess anything, and he didn’t even know if this alien could be possessed. It had taken a few hours. But time didn’t really matter too much to the angel, and those hours were wasted sleeping for the alien anyway.

There were several techniques for possessing a body. A strong enough soul could sever another soul from its body, and take complete control immediately. Or, they could completely suppress a soul, and take control of the body whenever they wanted. These are favorite techniques for demons, but other spirits sometimes used them to take control of weaker creatures such as wildlife. Some other techniques are for two souls to take turns controlling the body, only switching control when the situation calls for it; and for two souls to simply inhabit the body at the same time. Zorael was using this last technique on this alien. And it worked surprisingly well.

For this technique to work, the invading spirit needs to insert himself into his desired body, and touch the soul inhabiting the body. The souls feel each other out. The invading soul needs to be compatible with both the body, and its soul. If not, it’s immediately pushed out. Another technique could be used at this point, but Zorael didn’t want to go that far. This technique is normally not possible when the body is awake. The connections between the body, mind, and soul are too strong, and there’s no space for the invading spirit. These connections are loosened when consciousness is lost, so this is the best time to take control. The mind of the victim feels this interaction, and interprets it as best as it can. A smooth possession takes form as a lovely dream, and a rough possession takes form as a horrid nightmare. This one… wasn’t too bad. At least, the angel hoped not.

The alien moved his body the same way the body had moved all these years. And the alien thought the same thoughts he’s had all these years. Zorael had no direct control of either of these things. The angel could see with the alien's eyes, and could feel its thoughts. But he couldn’t directly control the body, or the mind. He could only change what the alien felt in its heart. And that’s how Zorael was controlling this alien.


The old man got out of his body, enjoying the waking sensations. Zorael had healed his pains when he took possession. He had some holy power left from his last visit to heaven, and felt that this was a good use of it. Zorael was better at knowing when to use his light, and when to save it. The alien didn’t realize it, but all his pains were gone. He got up, stretched his muscles, got dressed, and left his house. He didn’t know what he would do. Probably sit in the middle of the village again until dusk.

While walking, he found a group of children playing in a field. He turned to ignore him like he usually did, but immediately felt a pang of guilt. He took a few steps before his guilt overwhelmed him. He turned back, saw the kids playing again, and felt a sudden rush of nostalgia. He went back and sat at the edge of the field they were playing on. ‘I played this game when I was a child.’ He watched for a while, remembering with fondness the days of his youth. After a while, one of the kids asked the old man to join them. He began to decline, and was about to reprimand the child for speaking like that to his elder, before the old man felt a sudden rush of excitement. He suddenly dreaded saying no to the child. He accepted, got up, and played with the children. During his games, he showed off the techniques he learned as a kid, and taught them to the children. Tired, he left the kids to practice on their own before continuing to the center of the village.

On his way, he found a weaponsmith. Remembering all the insults the smith has given the old man over the years, he turned his back and started walking the other way. Once again, he only took a few steps before a sudden rush of guilt overwhelmed him. He turned to the smith, and saw him work. He remembered all the weapons he made when he was a young man. Once again overcome with nostalgia, he walked over to the smith, and humbly asked if the smith wanted a hand. He was making spears for the hunters. The smith eyed him skeptically, but apprehensibly agreed. As they worked, the smith noticed the old man’s spears, and how they were different from his. He asked with some arrogance why the old man changed the design. Normally insulted by such a remark, the old man simply went over some of his hunting stories, and related how each modification helped him. The smith eyed the old man with a newfound respect, and tried some of the designs on his weapons. The old man eyed him with pride, and worked until he tired. He thanked the smith for allowing him to work, and walked back to the center of the village.

And so the rest of the day continued the same way. The old man ignored something, his feelings suddenly changed, and he went to look at it. Instead of talking down to the people he spoke to, he spoke up to them. He humbly did some work, and the people noticed his techniques. He gladly taught what he could, and moved on. This happened for the rest of the day. This happened for several days. This went on for several weeks. And eventually, over the years, people forgot about the grumpy old man and started asking this kind elder for advice, until the old man taught everything he knew. The workers loved the new techniques so much, they wanted more. They tried new techniques of their own, and experimented with new ideas. They came up with new tools and tactics, and thrived more than they ever had before. This began a renaissance for not only the tribe, but the entire species. Other tribes came to this village, and saw their wonderful tools. They traded, and the technology spread. Over centuries, the entire species changed. Originally satisfied with a basic, boring life, they began to thirst for knowledge and ideas.


Zorael looked at this future from above the old man. He was satisfied with his work, and so he left the old man and his life in peace, just like he promised. Forever changed by his experiences, the old man never returned to his old lifestyle. He was a beloved teacher until the day of his death. And all the village mourned his passing.


Zorael was beyond pleased with his results. This planet was fascinating to begin with. But now, it has a growing, evolving society along with its natural wildlife. Studying the interactions between the different societies of the alien species as they grew and changed during their technological evolution gave him more data than he would have ever expected. So many fascinating stories, such exotic ideas, all from a few years worth of work. He struck a gold mine of information, and he mined it for all of its worth. Eventually, the species ran its course, and he learned as much as he could from them.

“It’s time for the next planet. Which star haven’t I visited before… That one looks good.”[/spoiler-box]

Third Dream: First Contact, epilogue. (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3024123&postcount=16)

[Zorafim]

Now that I actually have a bit of time to sit down and think That vacation was far too long..., I suppose it's time to stop being a snob and start actually replying to my fanbase.


Twas pretty good. Was also funny to imagine the Zoras speaking in a biblical manner. Opens up for an interesting story.

Luckily, I'm saving the biblical manner for heaven and, specifically, God. There's no way I could write like that all the time. Plus, looking back at it, I can barely tell I actually did it. It barely looks any different than my normal writing.


The dialogue is considerably thoughtful, as though you chose each word carefully. So far I'm very intrigued. I don't mind if there are no major conflicts, I'd be content in just exploring this world.

So far, that seems to be my only strength. For now, I'm glossing over characters, since we only have one important character, and the second isn't even born yet. Not to mention, in the sets for most of what I'm writing, I don't even have anything in mind. I'm not even going to try to tell you guys what heaven's like, and I have no idea what a living alien planet would look like. So I have terrible character development, character interaction, dialogue, story telling... Pretty much the only thing I have going for myself is that I can talk fancy.

I'm glad the effort I'm putting in to the story (at least that first chapter that you read when you wrote this) is evident. I tend to go over what I write about five times to make sure I'm telling the reader everything he should have learned from this chapter.


An angel willing to leave the presence of their god because of their curiosity about the universe. Yep I'm intrigued ^^

I'm glad I was able to portray the general plot of the story in the first chapter. This, right here, is pretty much Zorael's personality and motivation in a nut shell. So if I was able to give that impression right off the bat, then I did a good job.


I can't help but feel Zorael is getting in over his head, I like the way this is turning out.

He's okay. He can figure things out. He's a smart omnipotent spirit.

[Puppet_Papaya]

"At his feet slithered snakes and spiders. All around him were prowling beasts. Behind him, great monsters stomped the ground. All had black bodies and red, glowing eyes."
Niiiice. This is a delicious bit of imagery.

You're getting into some pretty heady stuff. I commend you for your bravery in describing some of the super-science/super-spiritual stuff going on here.

Keep it coming!

[Zorafim]

Let me tell you, writing for God is downright scary. I feel like I'm going to get smoten I'm pretty sure that's a word for getting any detail wrong.

And, thank you for your commendation. The imagery is really one of the biggest things I want to share. I've gotten tired of everything always taking place in the same places. So I want to try my best to, if nothing else, paint imaginative pictures for the reader. I want to be able to tell my reader "You remember earth, right? Yeah, this isn't it." Which, as it turns out, is pretty hard.

I should probably ask, did you catch what was really going on in that possession scene? I probably left it too vague, or didn't put enough detail in to it. I'm planning on making it clear in one of my future possession scenes.
I'd explain it clearer if I had to, but I'd be a bad writer if I had to explain anything outside of the source material.

[CelestialBlade]

This is refreshingly unique and I love the format. It's also kinda satisfying my old desire to see you finish up that old plotline you had going for your Champions Online characters forever ago, which has nothing to do with this of course but I always wanted to see what you'd do with a creative idea. Despite there being a lot of dialogue I've found your story very easy to follow so far and your descriptions are eloquent and enjoyable.

The imagery is indeed awesome too. Pretty awesome that you hold as much talent for language as you do for your music. Keep it up!

[Zorafim]

This is refreshingly unique and I love the format. Despite there being a lot of dialogue I've found your story very easy to follow so far and your descriptions are eloquent and enjoyable.

The imagery is indeed awesome too.

I'm glad to hear that people are enjoying it. Though I wanted to get this story out here, I probably wouldn't be working this hard if nobody was reading it.



It's also kinda satisfying my old desire to see you finish up that old plotline you had going for your Champions Online characters forever ago, which has nothing to do with this of course but I always wanted to see what you'd do with a creative idea.

Yes. Nothing at all. The two stories aren't connected whatsoever. Not one bit.



Pretty awesome that you hold as much talent for language as you do for your music. Keep it up!

Not bad for someone who can't talk, eh?

[Zorafim]

Third Dream: First Contact, epilogue.

[spoiler-box]Zorael looked out of the gates of heaven. It was about time for him to refill his light anyway, but that wasn't the only reason he came back. He came here to talk with God. He looked out into the universe, thinking of what to say.

The universe looks different from here. Here, you could see it all at once. All of its history, all of its entirety, can be seen just by peering out a door. It wasn’t any substitute for going out there yourself, of course. There’s so much to see, it’s impossible to focus on any one particular point. Because of the link between heaven and earth, it’s possible to see the earth with some detail. But nothing compares to going out and seeing it for yourself.

Zorael saw it differently than when he first set out. At first, he saw a vague concept. A world of infinite possibilities. But now, some of the tiny dots littering the canvas before him had a name, and a face. He’s only explored a tiny fraction of what he wanted to see. But he could guess what the other dots looked like.

Looking out of the gate wasn’t the only reason the angel sat there. The gate doesn’t exist to look out of, after all. The main beauty of this place was what was coming in. Souls. Countless souls. Thousands, upon millions, upon billions. Each one with its own face. Its own story. Its own journey. Each one being overwhelmed at what they saw before them. The place behind the angel which he took for granted. Every second, a soul would come in from the physical universe, to be greeted with the most magnificent sight they’ve ever seen. Their face filled with wonder and joy, crying at the overwhelming beauty of the place they’ve just entered. Before them laid a parade of angels, doing nothing for all eternity but singing for joy at each soul that entered heaven. They cried each person’s name as they entered, somehow linking each name together into a poem with no rival, in tones of perfect harmony. Each person’s reaction were unique, and added to the song.

The Song of Eternity.

A fitting name. Not because the song goes on forever. Indeed, it doesn’t. The song lasts just one instant. It is in that one instant that all souls reach heaven. Not a single one of them having to wait for space in front of them, or stay behind waiting for a loved one. All have plenty of room, and walk on in a perfectly harmonious parade of joy and triumph. This one instant lasts forever, however, allowing any passerby to see the entirety of this celebration. And so, it makes a great place to hang out and pass the time.

True, the song loses its splendor after its first time. But it’s a fantastic way to enter into heaven. And even if it’s not as great the second time around, it never really gets old.

“Was that wise?”

A voice came from behind Zorael. Addressing him was Raguel, the archangel of order and harmony. This angel is in charge of making sure all the angels work together.

“Hm? Leaving heaven? Haven’t we already talked about this?”

“Of course we have. You have explained your reasons, and we have found no harm in them. We are referring to your actions on that planet. Those people were not supposed to advance. What would happen if they interacted with humans?”

“That would be fantastic! Imagine what we could learn from that! Think how fascinating it would be for humans to interact with another species! One that has nothing in common with them!”

“We already have. We have witnessed it countless times.”

“Oh. Right.”

Humans have interacted with aliens countless times in their history. This was after the angel’s time on earth. He didn’t do much work on earth after the first interaction. Zorael continued:

“Well, it’s always an interesting exchange. Another one would be even neater!”

“And the wars?”

Ouch. Zorael replied:

“Point taken. I’ll look around, and clean up my mess.”

“Thank you. Do be careful from now on. This isn’t your universe. You’re only looking at the part nobody else cares about.”

That… kind of stung. But the archangel had a point. Zorael replied:

“Erm… Yes. I’ll try.”

“Thank you. If you’ll excuse me…”

The archangel gave a polite bow, and left. Probably to do something important, knowing how archangels live.

Zorael realized he needed to leave, too. He’s been sitting here long enough. He walked toward the choir of angels, and joined the Song of Eternity.

“Zorael, you’ve come at last!”

“You’ve worked so hard! Come and rest with us!”

“Have you seen anything great? Come share it with us!”

He lowered his head in embarrassment and blushed. ‘One of these days, I’m going to get used to this.’

“Zorael, you’re so great! We love you!”

‘Were those last ones… groupies?’ He looked over to the voices. Sure enough, a group of girls were yelling and screaming his name. ‘What?! We’re souls! We don’t have women up here!’ The thought didn’t last long in his mind as he enjoyed the sight. He somehow made it through the rest of the song without fainting in embarrassment, and worked his way to God’s throne.


God was sitting at the top of heaven, shining like a star over all of creation. He looked out on to earth, and listened to the pleas of its people. He looked down to countless angels, listening to their reports and giving them tasks. And, he looked down expectantly at Zorael, ready to listen to what he had to say. ‘He really is everywhere at once…’ The angel kneeled, and spoke:

“Majesty…”

“You humble me with your titles, my child. Please, speak as freely as you would your own mind.”

Zorael could never get used to speaking with God. Such power, such kindness, such humility. How do you respond to that? The angel tried his best. But he did not rise.

“Yes, of course. I discovered something interesting during my last trip. I’m not sure what to make of it. I found life on a planet which wasn’t earth.”

“Yes, I know. Humanity has come across many aliens in its time.”

“Yes. Erm… You made those, right? Isn’t that why they’re there? For humans to grow and expand?”

God didn’t answer. The angel continued:

“I found a planet humanity never encounters. Filled with intelligent life. Do you know about this? I’m… I’m sorry, of course you know about them. But, why are they there? Was somebody else tampering with your universe?”

“Truly, I did not know of them.”

“wha?”

The angel looked up to God with a dumbstruck face. This is the first time he’s ever heard of God admitting any sort of fault in his two millennia in heaven. This wasn’t something he knew how to react to. God continued:

“I did not create the planet you found. Nor have I ever created any creature outside of earth.”

“But… you created everything, didn’t you?”

“In a sense. I created the universe. I created all of it, to make earth. I did not have what I needed to make the world the way I wanted as the way things were. And so, I created the universe, and its laws. I did not shape each interaction, however. I did not shape the earth from nothingness. Nor did I create man from clay. I created the start of the universe, and all its laws, in knowledge that keeping the things they were, mankind would surely rise and flourish.”

“…oh.”

Zorael was taken aback for a while. He eventually composed himself, and spoke:

“So… Then, you created the big bang, and made gravity and ionic bonding and all that stuff, and just sort of hoped people would pop up?”

“Thank you for finally speaking freely, my child. Such formality is unbefitting of an interaction of this level.”

Zorael was still dumbstruck. God continued:

“Yes. I started the universe, and created its laws. And through them, mankind eventually formed.”

“So, the aliens…”

“I created the universe to form life of my choosing. It is only natural that life of other kinds would spring up along with humanity.”

“So, those alien invasions-“

“Were my mistake.”

“…oh.”

The angel had nothing else to say. He had to process this information, and see what it meant.

“…I have to go now.”

“Go in peace, child.”

Zorael had to actively work not to trip over himself. Right before he left, though, he remembered:

“Oh, right. I kind of messed with their history.”

“Do not worry. They are far from earth, and have no want of war. No harm will come to humanity from your actions.”

“Good…”

That last sentence almost sounded like an insult. He waved awkwardly, and left.


It hurt leaving heaven. It always did. With God’s light shining down at you all the time, you really miss it once it’s gone. The light was like a hand, scratching an itch you didn’t know you had. And once you leave, the hand stops scratching, and the itch came back. Still, Zorael walked back through the Song of Eternity. He couldn’t find the groupies this time. He looked out into the universe, and looked for a new star.

“That one looks good.”[/spoiler-box]

First Nightmare: A Memory of Inspiration (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3024818&postcount=18)

[o0Kais0o]

“So… Then, you created the big bang, and made gravity and ionic bonding and all that stuff, and just sort of hoped people would pop up?”

Possibly my favourite line in your story so far :D.

[Zorafim]

First Nightmare: A Memory of Inspiration.

[spoiler-box]A man walked to the shore. He stood just over five and a half feet tall. His face was dark, with striking brown eyes. His hair was long and curly, and his beard was thick and full. Both were colored black. All of his features were typical of the men of the area. But his clothing made him stand out. He wore a vibrant white garment, completely free of dirt and dyes. It was this clothing that showed him for what he really was, even if nobody knew what it meant.

He had finished his work in a nearby city. Christianity was on the rise at this time and place, but believers were having difficulty spreading their faith. The man was sent to lift their spirits, and give them hope. He preached the word of God, and explained Jesus’ teachings. He sang psalms with the people, and danced in their celebrations. He healed the sick and the injured, and did other miracles so that they would believe in the power of God. Those closest to him said that he walked illuminated by a great light.

He looked west to the Mediterranean Sea. He smiled as he reached the shore. He was proud of the work he had done, and was ready to head back home. But he felt he could afford a quick respite before he left. The man closed his eyes, as he lifted his head and arms up to heaven. He gave himself up to God. As he did this, his body started to glow, white as his garments. After a moment, the man disappeared into light, and vanished from sight.

Zorael absorbed the light given off from his false body until he couldn’t hold anymore, and let the rest return to heaven. He wore the light around him like a garment, showing it off in pride. The young angel looked back at the city he had just left. A middle eastern town, northeast from Egypt. For him, it had been five hundred years since his death. Yet, in the age he was in now, he hadn’t even been born yet. It took him a while to get used to a soul’s perception of time. It was completely different than a living being’s. He had just finished his assignment, given to him by God himself. ‘Of course God was the one that gave it to me. He tells all the angels what to do,’ Zorael reasoned to himself. Still, he couldn’t help but beam with pride.

Zorael turned away from the city, and went out into the water. He didn’t often take a break after his assignments, but it’s been a while since he’s seen what Earth had to offer. He has seen enough of the land of this area from all his visits, so he decided to see what the sea had to offer. He skimmed the surface for a while, looking for any boats that may be out. Seeing the men test their strength against the fierce sea was an inspiring sight for the young angel. After he was satisfied with his people watching, he dove under the water, and started searching for wildlife. It took him a while, but he found some. He was enraptured by some great whales, swimming elegantly through the tides. And he was delighted by dolphins, dancing through the waters. In his search, he saw a strange light coming from below him. It seemed to be close. ‘Perhaps, a deep sea fish coming too high? Why would it do that?’ The young angel chased after the light, eager to see what sort of creature could be producing it.

He dove down, and down, and down. The light didn’t seem to get any closer. The sunlight around him dimmed more and more as he went lower, and still, the light he was chasing didn’t seem to get any closer. It wasn’t until the sunlight had completely dissipated that the light he was chasing was given any shape. It finally grew, and grew, and grew as he got closer. A mere several hundred feet above the bottom of the sea, he found the light’s source.

What he originally reasoned to be a single tiny creature was actually what seemed to be entire colonies of glowing sea creatures, living on rocks in clusters hundreds of feet wide. Every color of the rainbow seemed to be present, and stretched out for as far as the angel could see. These clusters went on for a mile, snaking across the ocean floor. This was the first time in his existence he had seen anything like this on earth. So he got closer, and tried to see what strange creatures could make such a spectacle of light and color.

He approached one of the colonies, but he couldn’t find the source of light. It was as if the rock itself was glowing. In fact, this didn’t even look like rock. There was a…material… leaning against a great underwater hill, just glowing spectacular colors for no reason. And as far as he could see, every “colony” of lights was the same thing. Just some colorful, glowing object leaning against an underwater hill. He searched each glowing object until the hill fell back down to the smooth, ocean floor. Where the hill met the floor was another spectacularly colorful glowing object. It almost seemed to be growing out of the hill.

Zorael doubled back, and looked for any clues on what this might be. He went a mile before he found that clue. Expecting the hill to slowly fall into the floor like on the other side, this time Zorael found a strangely formed cave opening. Instead of just a hole, the opening was made of two parts. The top part was a rock, jetting out of the hill at a sudden angle. And the bottom part was the ocean floor, opening up into the hill in front of him. The opening was roughly one hundred feet wide, and the top part of the rock was two hundred feet tall.

Zorael got closer to the opening, and noticed rocks like stalagmites jutting out from the floor. There were hundreds of them, lining up perfectly into a semi-oval coming from the hill, and jutting inwards towards it. Each the height of a man. They were filthy. All kinds of life were growing from them. Looking closer, Zorael saw that it wasn’t just the stalagmites on the sea floor. There was a graveyard of sea creatures, being gated from the rest of the sea floor by the stalagmites. All sorts of creatures have found their way down here. Deep sea bottom dwellers, surface swimmers… There was even somehow some livestock in this pile of decaying flesh. Zorael noticed a fish swimming past him. It found a part in the pile, stopped moving, and sunk.

The young angel had no idea what this was. Impossibly long, and impossibly wide, was a countless collection of triangular objects attached to a long hill. The hill was one hundred feet wide, and a mile long. At one end of this hill, was an impossibly large cave, filled with corpses. It’s like the banners of heaven are inviting you into the gates of hell. Lost in his thought, the young angel started to investigate the top rock, jetting out of the ground. On his way up, a sudden light burst from the rock. A smooth crack appeared, and white light poured out from it. As Zorael started to investigate this, the crack thickened, and became round. It opened to be ten feet across. And it had a pupil.

A sudden rush of movement created an impossibly loud noise as water rushed everywhere. Zorael backed off and floated up to get a broader picture of what was happening. The cave shut, and swallowed. All the putrid flesh entered the cave’s mouth, as water rushed out of its gills. The head of the hill lifted up, moving hundreds of feet each second even with its slow movement. Each of the huge, triangular, glowing objects stabilized the hill, as it snaked its way through the water. The hill coiled up, its glowing fins folding neatly against each other. And the hill looked up, right at Zorael. Not up, towards the sky. That’s not where the angel was. He looked up, through dimensions, and saw the greater plane the angel resided on.

A great sea serpent saw the angel for what he really was. It opened its maw, and let out an impossible noise. As his maw was left open, the water around it bubbled and boiled, heating to impossible temperatures. And the beast stared straight into Zorael’s soul.


“Leviathan”, God answered.

Zorael was kneeling before his god, in the highest point of heaven. He had just told him of what he did for the early Christians back on earth, and what he found afterwards.

God only replied with that one word. And in it, dozens were understood.

“He, whose strength on earth is rivaled only by two others”

“He, who rules the ocean and all its seas, and takes from it what he pleases”

“He, whose flesh is like shields sealed together”

“He, whose fins illuminate the abyss like the sun illuminates the sky”

A great serpent God made by hand. One of only three creatures on earth for which this is true. One mile in length, one hundred feet across, with countless fins shining as vibrantly as the light of the heavens. Its strength is so great, nothing in the ocean can stand against it. Its grace so great, it can slip through the waters like a bird diving through the air. Its command of the sea is so great, that when he hungers, fish willingly bring food to his open maw, and offer themselves if they have none.

“Understood,” replied Zorael. His voice and his soul, cold and dim with fear. Walking through the Song of Eternity raised his spirit somewhat. And bathing in the Light of Creation returned some strength to him. But he could still barely move from what he experienced.

“You have done well for me this day, child. Go, and rest in the joys of heaven. Return when you’ve had your fill, and I will send you out again.”

“Yes, Majesty.”

Zorael raised, gave a tremoring bow, and looked for some place to rest in heaven. He looked down on the seven layers, and lost himself in his thoughts. He couldn’t get his mind off that serpent. In his short time serving in heaven, he had never seen anything alive which had any sort of power over a soul. Yet this creature could see right into him. The angel huddled around himself. And, deep down inside his soul, a seed was planted. A single seed of curiosity. For, ‘If I have just now found something like this after five hundred years of serving… What else do I not know about?’[/spoiler-box]


Author's notes:
[spoiler-box]1 Can you pull in the leviathan with a fishhook or tie down his tongue with a rope?
2 Can you put a cord through his nose or pierce his jaw with a hook?
3 Will he keep begging you for mercy? Will he speak to you with gentle words?
4 Will he make an agreement with you for you to take him as your slave for life?
5 Can you make a pet of him like a bird or put him on a leash for your girls?
6 Will traders barter for him? Will they divide him up among the merchants?
7 Can you fill his hide with harpoons or his head with fishing spears?
8 If you lay a hand on him, you will remember the struggle and never do it again!
9 Any hope of subduing him is false; the mere sight of him is overpowering.
10 No-one is fierce enough to rouse him. Who then is able to stand against me?
11 Who has a claim against me that I must pay? Everything under heaven belongs to me.
12 I will not fail to speak of his limbs, his strength and his graceful form.
13 Who can strip off his outer coat? Who would approach him with a bridle?
14 Who dares open the doors of his mouth, ringed about with his fearsome teeth?
15 His back has rows of shields tightly sealed together;
16 each is so close to the next that no air can pass between.
17 They are joined fast to one another; they cling together and cannot be parted.
18 His snorting throws out flashes of light; his eyes are like the rays of dawn.
19 Firebrands stream from his mouth; sparks of fire shoot out.
20 Smoke pours from his nostrils as from a boiling pot over a fire of reeds.
21 His breath sets coals ablaze, and flames dart from his mouth.
22 Strength resides in his neck; dismay goes before him.
23 The folds of his flesh are tightly joined; they are firm and immovable.
24 His chest is hard as rock, hard as a lower millstone.
25 When he rises up, the mighty are terrified; they retreat before his thrashing.
26 The sword that reaches him has no effect, nor does the spear or the dart or the javelin.
27 Iron he treats like straw and bronze like rotten wood.
28 Arrows do not make him flee, sling stones are like chaff to him.
29 A club seems to him but a piece of straw, he laughs at the rattling of the lance.
30 His undersides are jagged potsherds, leaving a trail in the mud like a threshing-sledge.
31 He makes the depths churn like a boiling cauldron and stirs up the sea like a pot of ointment.
32 Behind him he leaves a glistening wake; one would think the deep had white hair.
33 Nothing on earth is his equal—a creature without fear.
34 He looks down on all that are haughty; he is king over all that are proud.

Job 41:1–34[/spoiler-box]

Fourth Dream: A Study in Magic (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3027125&postcount=21)

[Zorafim]

Possibly my favourite line in your story so far :D.

No love for the groupies?

[o0Kais0o]

Don't get me wrong, angelic groupies are amusing, but a creator god admitting that he was pretty much winging it when he was creating humanity is just priceless to me.

[Zorafim]

Fourth Dream: A Study in Magic

[spoiler-box]It’s been several centuries for Zorael since he left heaven. It’s impossible to say how many planets the angel has visited so far. But, he remembers each one, down to the tiniest detail. Just by pointing out a star to him, he can tell you all of its history and details in full. And after all of this time, and after visiting all of these planets, this was still his favorite spot.

Zorael blinked into existence above an aquatic nebula. One of the first stars he visited in the night sky, and still one of his favorites. It was here that he discovered that he still had some hold on the physical universe in his incorporeal form, even without having to borrow holy power to do so. And with how frustrating it is to lose control over abilities he took for granted, it was a relief to at least pretend he got some of that control back. And so, whenever exploring the universe got old for the angel, he would come here and play with the water.

At first, it wasn’t anything major. Through heavy concentration, he could nudge a few molecules here and there. He would play around with this, and see how much he could move the flowing streams of water hidden in the nebula. As he understood more and more the underlying principles of this technique, and memorized the basic fundamental truths of the objects he was working with, he started getting good. Eventually, after quite a few visits to the water nebula, he moved on from just moving a few molecules around. The water easily flowed around him as he willed it to. He couldn’t exactly do anything useful with the water, but he didn’t have to. He was just playing.

He visited time and time again. Coming, and playing, and getting better each time. And this was just one of those times.

Zorael floated above the surface of the nebula. He looked down, and marveled at it for a time. He would normally explore it a bit more. But this time, he wanted to get right to playing. He willed two streams of water to snake their way from the surface. If you understand the principles of water tension, you can appreciate how difficult this could be. In fact, he chose this particular move because of its difficulty. They snaked around themselves, creating an upward spiral. They then fanned out, and created an outline for the spiral. A third pillar of water was created at the center of the spiral, and shot straight out of it. Once it was taller than the other two, he pooled as much water as he could carry into it, and created a large globe above the spiral. Once he started to strain with its weight, he tossed aside most of the water, but kept the bottom shape of the globe. He used it to create a bowl. He floated to the center of this bowl, and brought up some extra water. He sculpted them into figures. A native creature from this planet or that, or some creatures from lore. Whatever came into his mind, he shaped. He created an entire scene in front of him, before his mind strained too much, and the scene collapsed before him. He glowed a melancholy shade of faint blue, and went on to another game. He was tired of control. He’d move on to power.

A suddenly as he could manage, he shot a large amount of water up to the sky. As it rained back down, he took each of the droplets coming off it, and shot them off in different directions. He took one of the last collections of water to fall, and spun it around quickly. They performed circles, figure eights, shot in circular back and forward motions, and danced however the angel wanted them to. Satisfied, he shot the water back in to the air, and stopped them suddenly. As they floated as orbs, he flatted them into disks. Then he let go, and they fell back into the nebula.

He shone a bit brighter than he did before. He was having fun. He slowly fell downward, and rested at the surface. He brought up some orbs of water, and had them dance around him as he stared off into space. It had taken him a while to understand the underlying principles of what he was doing, but it was a simple concept to him now. There were basic laws of the universe that everything in the universe had to follow. As a soul, it was fairly easy for the angel to see them, if he looked hard enough. Since he was born a human, he became used to seeing a world as a human. But, through some training, a soul can see much more. And though everything in the universe needs to follow its laws, well, Zorael wasn’t quite in the universe. Zorael could see all the laws binding the universe, and… temporarily adjust them.

That’s what the angel was doing now. There were few forces out here to really account for, so it was a simple place to practice. The massive nebula had a gravitational force pulling all matter toward its center, and hydrogen bonding pulling each molecule together. These forces were just numbers to the angel, and he could reach out and change them. He caused some molecules to strengthen their bond, pulling together globs of water that wanted to do something else. Or, he caused some to loosen their bond, making it easier for globs of water to escape. He could also reverse the binding force, making it repel instead. That last one was a difficult technique to learn. He found it was easiest to practice with the same type of object, so he could memorize the numbers instead of keeping a close eye on them. But, with these same techniques, he could, theoretically, do the same thing to other objects. It’s harder, but when the practicality overcame the difficulty, he would sit down and practice.

There was one other technique he started to practice while out here. It wasn’t quite for fun, like water was. This one was more practical. Zorael could zip from one part of the universe to another without any problem. He didn’t exactly need to travel straight through, but could take shortcuts by leaving the physical plane at one point, and entering in another. Any matter he manipulated, however, could not. He looked around, and tried to estimate the coordinates of the area he was in. He could pretty much model any point in the universe with an X, Y, Z coordinate, and could also model any time with an extra T variable if he needed. He then picked another X, Y, Z coordinate out of random. It didn’t make this technique any easier or harder to pick any specific numbers, so a random selection works just fine. He focused all his concentration on the first coordinates he chose. Then, he willed that anything going through those coordinates, in a certain direction, will instead jump to the second set of coordinates. Again, simple math, once you understand the underlying laws governing motion. And so, just like that, the angel created a huge rift in space, causing a massive wormhole to teleport any item that travels through it.

It was a millimeter in diameter. The angel beamed in pride. It was the biggest he’s ever created. Feeling mischievous, and wanting to test out his creation, he fired a small bolt of water into the wormhole. But, it closed before the bolt could reach it. It was only up for a few seconds this time. Zorael sulked, but was still happy at his progress. Satisfied with his wormhole progress, he played with the water a bit more. He eventually looked back up, found a star he hasn’t visited before, and unceremoniously left behind the nebula. He’d be back before long.[/spoiler-box]

Fifth Dream: A Study in Warfare, part 1 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3028585&postcount=23)

[o0Kais0o]

Hmm, seems our friend Zorael is having fun at least, but I wonder will his play accidentally bring about a new form of life?

[Zorafim]

Fifth Dream: A Study in Warfare, part 1

[spoiler-box]A young girl was lying in the forest. She was old enough not to be completely dependent on her parents, but still too young to look for a mate. Her arms were twisted in awkward angles. Her legs and back had deep gashes in them. Her knees were bashed in. Her jaw was dislocated. Bruises dotted her body. One of her fingers on her right hand was twisted the wrong way. Another was missing. And a third had its flesh peeled from it. Her left hand was simply chopped off. Her eyes were wide in fear. Her vision faded. First, losing focus. Then, turning black.

She woke, and propped herself up. Her face showed obvious fear and shock. She looked around. She was on the top of a small hill, barely above water level, in the middle of a lake which seemed to go on forever. On the edge of the hill, body parts jutted out at random angles. Arms, legs, feet, hands, and bones, sticking out like tall blades of grass. The section she was laying on was smooth. It was made of backs, chests, and torsos. The lake was too thick and red to be mistaken for anything but blood. The sky was an angry shade of red, filled with clouds shaped as if an artist threw paint on a canvas. The moon was a crescent, impossibly huge and awkwardly crooked. It was crying blood, raining down into the lake.

She was already in shock and fear before she entered this place. The scenery didn’t phase her. It was natural for the world to look this way. It reflected her thoughts perfectly. She hugged her legs, dug her face into her knees, and cried as the world reflected her pain. A whisper was carried in the wind:

“What do you want?”

Her head jumped up, and she looked around for the source of the voice. She saw a figure, floating above the lake. It wore a tattered black cloak, and carried a scythe. Reaching out of the sleeves of the cloak were hands of bone. This wasn’t the source of the voice, though. So she kept on looking. Eventually, she found a figure far off on the water, slowly walking towards her. She screamed out at it:

“Dad? Dad! Help me! Some men caught me! They’re taking me somewhere… I don’t know where. I think they’re going to kill me!”

The voice calmly answered back: “Your father cannot help you. They have taken him, too. He is already dead.”

She looked back down to the hill. She spotted the head of her father, sticking out with the other random assortment of body parts. His face was emotionless, and his eyes were blank.

Both of the figures walked closer.

She dug her face back into her knees, and whispered softly: “Mom… help me…”

The voice answered back: “She cannot help you, either. They have taken her, as well. She cannot escape.”

She squeezed her legs, and cried out loud into her knees.

Both of the figures walked closer.

After a while, her face shot up, and she looked right at the second figure. She pleaded with it: “Please, help me! These men want to hurt me!”

“They already have.”

Confused, she looked down on herself. All across her body were deep gashes, pouring out blood in a thick stream. The stream poured onto the hill, staining it red. And it poured into the lake, feeding it.

Both of the figures walked closer.

“What do you want?”

She cried some more. She mumbled into her knees: “I don’t want to die… I want to go home… I want my mom…”

“I can do that.”

The skeletal figure reached the island. The flesh it stepped on melted away, leaving only crumbling bone.

The girl looked up and pleaded: “Then please, help me!”

The figure responded: “I will need something from you, in exchange.”

“Yes! Anything! Just please, help me!”

The skeleton raised its scythe above the girl. The figure dashed forward. The skeleton struck down at the girl. The figure blocked. The blade of the scythe was stopped by the star shaped head of the figure’s lance. The figure wrapped one arm around the girl, still crying in her knees; and used the other to stop the skeleton’s attack. He gave off a warm, comforting glow. The scythe rusted into dirt. The bones crumbled into dust. And the cloak faded into mist.


The girl woke up. It took a minute for her vision to focus, and a minute more for her to gather enough strength to get up. When she did, she saw a bright light shining from her body, from each of her injuries. All of her dislocated joints were being locked back into place. All of her cuts were being welded together. She looked at herself in confusion until the light faded. She then noticed the body of her father, laying a few feet from her. Blood pooled from his neck. She crawled over to him, and cuddled with him for a while.

“Shit, why did you have to kill her. You know we need more slaves.”

“I told you, she’s useless! Barely able carry anything. She’d be more effort than she’s worth.”

“She’s useless now. But there’s this thing about children. They grow up.”

“Oh come on, that would take way too long. We can just nab an older girl in the time it takes for her to get useful.”

“Or, we can have two slaves. Are you even trying to think? What would make you even want to kill a girl in the first place? Did some chick beat you up as a kid or something?”

“It was that idiot’s kid, alright? He deserved more than just death, and so I gave it to him.”

“See, you should have just started with that. We could have saved all this trouble. This is the spot, right? Where did you leave the brat’s body?”

“Right there.”

He pointed at a blood stain on the grass. The two looked over a few feet, and found a perfectly healthy looking girl, staring straight at them.

“…you suck at killing. You know that?”

“The hell I do! There’s no way she could be alive after all that!”

“Yeah, I can see that. She looks nice and dead to me. Do you even know what part of the axe to hit things with?”

Fear never left her body. She’s been afraid ever since she woke. Being spotted again didn’t make her any more afraid. That would have been impossible. She was fearful down to the very core of her soul. But down in that core, another emotion rose up. A calmness. Not one which made the fear ease away. This calmness focused the fear. It allowed the girl to think and move, like she couldn’t otherwise.

The girl ran.

“Oi, your dead girl’s running away.”

“Shut up. We need another slave, right? Hurry up and get her!”

The girl ran as fast as she could. She was chased by the two men, who with their greater strides and strength, would catch up before long. And she was chased by a trail of dew, unseen by any of them.[/spoiler-box]

Artist's rendition:

[spoiler-box]http://jojo.sappusx.com/ok411s.jpg

Credit to Qoxolg (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showthread.php?t=189378)
Deviantart (http://q-arts.deviantart.com/)[/spoiler-box]

Fifth Dream: A Study in Warfare, part 2 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3029291&postcount=24)

[Zorafim]

Fifth Dream: A Study in Warfare, part 2

[spoiler-box]The girl ran through the forest. Two men were quickly catching up to her. And a stream of dew trailed behind them. The front part of the trail of dew coalesced into a single ball of water by the time it reached the girl. As it passed her, it flattened itself out into a small blade. It whitened and solidified into ice, becoming a small knife. It slowed its pace, and allowed the girl to catch up with it. More dew was following behind her, forming into another small ball. She reached out and grabbed the knife with her right hand, and ran for a while more. She was able to go a few more seconds before the closest man reached out and grabbed her left arm with his right hand. He pulled her into him. The knife arced itself into his belly. The girl stabbed again and again, trying frantically to loosen the man’s grip. He yelled fiercely in pain. Right behind him, his friend yelled in rage. He raised his axe, ready to kill the girl assaulting his friend.

The ball of water formed into a needle, and shot at the man’s hand. It pierced through, striking near a nerve. He dropped his axe, and howled in pain. The man being stabbed finally loosened his grip, his abdomen soaked with his own blood. The girl cut at the hand to push it away, and ran away as quickly as she could.

“What’s going on? Is it an ambush?”

The rest of the group came pouring in. All were armed with axes, and they were still high from the raid they just finished. They were answered by their comrade, holding his right hand in pain.

“A girl escaped! She’s going to warn the next village! She surprised Jack. Someone take care of him!”

One of the older men rushed over to the injured man, and laid him down to tend to him. The rest of them streamed forward to catch up to the girl. The first man picked up his axe with his left hand, and led them.


She bought herself some time, somehow. She afforded herself a look at the weapon which had mysteriously floated before her just seconds ago. It was a small knife, even for her. Very sharp, but not long enough to do serious damage. It was made of ice, and was coated with water. It glowed with a faint white light. The same color as the light which healed her moments before. As she was inspecting it, another orb of water caught up with her, and formed itself around the knife. Most of it crystallized around the knife, lengthening it. The orb of water floated behind her at an angle, feeding itself on trailing pockets of dew.

The first man was catching up to her, furiously sprinting to pay the girl back for his friend. The rest of the group was far behind him. The girl ran as fast as she could, but the knife suddenly lurched back. Holding on to the knife for dear life, she was forced to spin around, and face her attacker. He lunged forward, leading with the weapon in his left hand. The knife shot back, and the girl did the same. She jumped back from every furious swing of the axe. The man gained ground, and overreached himself with a downward backhand swing. The knife shot forward this time, and the girl stepped forward with it. The knife stabbed the man a few inches below the wrist, and the axe passed harmlessly over the girl’s shoulder. The knife cut itself away with a downward slice, flaying the man’s arm open. It spun to face away from the man. The girl took the hint and started running again.

The man cursed, and grabbed his arm, squeezing to stop the flow of blood. As the blood left his arm, it separated into two parts. One was the dried blood, turning to dust in the wind. The other was the pure water in the blood, trailing after the girl. The man kneeled over in pain, as his comrads caught up and continued the chase.

The girl kept on running. The orb behind her split into two parts again, feeding the knife. It lengthened to about the girl’s arm length, and widening to about her arm’s width. Looking at the weapon gave her faint hope. But she kept on running.

The three fastest runners came up, and surrounded her. The sword turned her around, to face the one in the middle. The other two ran behind her. He jumped at her, swinging with a powerful overhand swing. The sword brought itself up to parry the attack. The ice shattered. The water held the fragments of ice in place. And the light repaired the weapon. This happened so fast, the axe rebounded from the force, out of the attacker’s hand. As this happened, the two other axemen circled around the one in the center, and began their attack. Two bolts of water, each the size of a fist, shot out and hit each one square in the shoulder, knocking them off balance. The sword brought itself over the girl’s shoulders, pointing to the first attacker. And it thrust, stabbing him straight through. It twisted, and sliced away in a gentle arc.

While the other two were recovering, the girl spun around and started hacking. They backed up, out of the girl’s reach. One brought his axe up to block the attack and set himself up for a counter. The weapon shattered again, and rebounded the axe away when it repaired. The weapon spun in her hand, and came down for two quick hacks on his right arm, before quickly thrusting itself in and out of his gut. The last attacker took this chance to hack at her back, but the weapon was shot out off course by another bolt of water. As the sword freed itself from the body it was in, it shot toward the forest, queuing the girl to keep running.

More water, from the blood spilt, and from the air around the scene, was brought into the orb of water. It split again, and formed itself around the weapon. It lengthened to about four feet long, and an inch thick. It was lengthened to a simple javelin. A small weapon, but a fair size in comparison to the girl. She held on to it with both hands. She did this both to stabilize the weapon in her grip, and to stabilize herself as she ran.

The man attacking just seconds before gave close pursuit. As he got close, the weapon stopped suddenly, and pointed its heel back. It jutted back, into the man’s gut. The weapon pushed back more, forcing the girl’s body to push against the man’s, until he fell back. It pushed forward again, telling the girl to run.

The angle she was running made it easier for the rest of the group to catch up. A group of five suddenly swarmed around her. They all attacked at once. The javelin arced forward, pushing a horizontal attack over the girl’s head. The forward movement pulled the girl out of reach of the two attackers behind her, but she was still in reach of the two on either side of her. Two large bolts of water shot down from above at those two men’s hands with enough force to tear the connective tissues between the hand and arm. As the weapon parried the axe in front of it, it thrust forward, aiming to the right of the attacker. This pulled the girl to the man’s right; making her more vulnerable to his attacks, but less vulnerable to the men behind her. The first attacker threw a heavy vertical swing to the girl’s head. The javelin tilted itself vertically to block the strike, shatter itself, and throw back the axe as it rebounded back into its repaired position. The weapon struck forward again, this time to the man’s left. It hit another attacker, coming around his comrade, and not seeing the attack in time to defend against it. It stabbed deeply into his chest, and came back out smoothly. It stabbed again, quickly to the left, piercing the first man’s arm as he was trying to regain control of his weapon. The heel of the weapon lowered itself, forcing the girl to step forward. Then it raised, and the weapon spun around behind the girl, forcing her to spin clockwise. The heel of the weapon stabbed the last attacker just above his jaw, as he was readying his attack. The weapon lurched back, pulling the girl back with it. Then it spun the girl again, stabbing the first man through the chest. The other two men behind him were still screaming in pain at their hands, which fell limply from their wrists. The weapon pulled back from its chest, and the girl took that as a queue to start running again.

The rest of the group was already close behind her. She only bought herself a few seconds with that last skirmish. It was enough for the orb of water to feed the weapon again, though. It grew two more feet taller, and one more inch around. The top of the weapon formed into a star shaped blade. The top spike was a foot long, and four more spikes came out at 45* angles from the base of the main spike. Two pointed up, two pointed down. Each of the smaller ones were six inches. The heel of the lance retained its simple point. Above her, the orb of water had grown to three feet in diameter.

The weapon turned her around again. She learned to trust it. Or rather, she learned to depend on it. Following its movement was the only hope she had of living. She faced a crowd of twenty men. Her feet were shoulder width apart. Her body was turned at a 45* angle. She held her arms down, keeping the lance pointed at the mob. The weapon was massive in her hands. She was only able to lift it because it was the one moving her. Her eyes were wide with fear and panic. The adrenaline rush, mixed with the alien peace in her heart, let her see everything at once. The orb of water above her split into two.

She lunged forward, the weapon amplifying the effect of her swings. She stabbed wildly into the crowd, not knowing what to hit. But, her speed and reach were great enough that her attackers had difficulty closing the distance. The ones in back circled around to try to get behind her.

Needles shot out of the orbs of water. Their aim was random, and didn’t hit anything important. But it served as a distraction, allowing the girl to step in and stab one of her attackers. Before she could pull the weapon out of his chest, the two around him stepped in past her effective range. She was forced back, parrying their blows back and forward. The weapon couldn’t shatter, so only its enhanced speed were keeping the blows in check. A great bolt of water shot out from an orb, and instantly snapped the neck of one of the attackers. When this happened, the lance pulled the girl forward past an axe swing, and up too close for either of them to attack. Then it pulled her back, and gave a mighty arc, slashing his belly.

The attackers kept on pressing forward, however. Too many were attacking her at once for her to do anything, even with all the help she had. She defended herself as well as she could, for as long as she could. Eventually, the attackers noticed something in the sky, and backed up. The girl backed up and looked, too.

A great cloud had been pulled down from the sky. Its waters were being drawn into the orbs of water. Its dust was left to hang in the air, completely blocking the view. Nobody could see what was in front of them. The dumber attackers stood around, and tried to see what was happening. The more cowardly ones took this as a queue to run.

A minute passed before the dust settled. The globes of water combined, and straightened. The water elongated and snaked around itself. At one of its ends, the water flattened into a fin. At the other, it separated into a maw. Behind the head, great wings grew and stretched outward. After it stopped being shaped, a water beast stared at the attackers.

The dumber ones ran too.

The snake shot forward, and bit the closest attacker. It coiled around once, and shot to the next. It struck out at them all, one after another, dancing through the air too fast to clearly see. After it struck its last victim, it rested near his corpse, and looked back. It hung in the air like an ornate wreath, rested in a half coiled position.

The girl had long since collapsed on to her legs. Even with everything she had seen these last few minutes, this was too much for her. Every man in the mob lay in front of her, slain. Blood flowed where body parts should be. And the winged snake responsible for this carnage looked right at her.

It raised its head, as if to roar. And a loud noise erupted. The snake instantly evaporated into mist. A great, cool wind blew as the mist expanded. The lance suddenly started crying, as the water that had held it together dripped off it. The girl looked at the weapon, and the white light faded from it. The ice which she comfortably held in her hands suddenly grew painfully cold. She dropped it in shock, and it shattered on the floor. She tried grasping for the pieces, but they kept melting in her hands. And suddenly, the peace in her heart faded.

The panic in her which had been focused all this time suddenly had no direction. It welled up in her, threatening to tear her apart. She kneeled over, panting heavily to the forest floor. The memories of the last few hours suddenly surfaced all at once. The attack on her village, her torture in front of her father, running for her life and being saved by… something.

It was too much for her. She curled up into a ball and sobbed uncontrollably. She remained like this for several minutes, as the corpses decayed around her. When she had her fill, she stood up, and moved.

“There’s a village… over here… maybe… maybe they’ll help…”[/spoiler-box]

Fifth Dream: A Study in Warfare, part 3 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3033267&postcount=28)

[o0Kais0o]

[SPOILER-BOX]Dude, awesome battle scene :D also really liking how the weapon evolves by absorbing water from the blood of its enemies, that was a cool touch I think. Also, epic water beast ftw.[/SPOILER-BOX]

[Zorafim]

I had a bunch of fun with that fight scene. Most of it wrote itself, though I did have to stop and count occasionally, and make sure I accounted for each of the bandits. It didn't take much longer to write than the average chapter, despite easily being twice as long.


Well, my classes started up again, so I'm not going to have as much time to write. I'll try to sneak in some chapters here and there, but only if I'm lucky. It's a shame, really. I'm still nowhere near where I want to be in terms of story progression.

[o0Kais0o]

Its always a shame when real life concerns rear their ugly maws, but thats just the way things go. So long as this fic still sees some attention, all is good :)

[Zorafim]

Fifth Dream: A Study in Warfare, part 3

[spoiler-box]“That wasn’t the plan.”

Zorael complained to himself as he looked over the carnage he created.

“It was supposed to be a quick, easy possession. Wait for the bandits to leave, possess the body, heal it, then sneak away. Short, and simple. Nobody was supposed to die. Well, nobody else was supposed to die. I save a life, and I get a body. But no. These guys come in, and put their heads in the meat grinder. Why did they keep coming, anyway? What creature, in their right minds, sees their friends get killed, and thinks ‘Running in sounds like a good plan. There is nothing that can go wrong.’

Why did they come in the first place? It’s a pair of corpses. What’s so interesting about that? They’re dead. You looted them. If you wanted them alive, then don’t kill them. AUHG!”

Zorael darted about the trees in fury and panic.

“Alright. Fine. They’re dead. It’s alright. It’s not like they’re some innocent saints. I actually wanted to do something about this bandit problem anyway. Maybe, find them some other source of livelihood. Show them the evil of their ways…”

He hummed a soft sigh.

“Or they could all chase a little girl to a sea monster and get their heads bit off! That solves my problem easily!”

He buzzed to the ground and rested.

“I just wanted to see this world through some context. Grab a pair of eyes from someone who wouldn’t miss them. Low impact observation. Why couldn’t they just leave her alone?

“You know, it’s good they’re dead. The body I found was of a young girl. Tortured in front of her father. The other bandits aren’t much better. The village they attacked is in shambles. Why should I care about their lives? They obviously don’t care about anyone else’s. This world is a better place without them.”

As Zorael… mused, to himself, another bandit made his way forward. The older man who tended to the first of the injured. His hands were covered in blood. He was obviously tending to any of the fallen who were still alive. Zorael formed an orb of water. The older man came to the final scene of the fight. He stared, eyes wide with shock, at the state of his comrades. He stood there for several seconds, not knowing what to do. Zorael glowed a deep red.

“I should kill him, too. He helped with the raid. He’s caring for these murderers. He deserves to die with the rest of them.”

He put energy into his water orb, ready to fire. The man backed up, and ran away.

The water orb evaporated with a hiss.

“I don’t feel like it.”

He turned his back, and floated away from the scene.

“I should keep an eye on that girl. She’s had enough happen to her.”


The girl walked forward with a faltering gait. Her eyes were unfocused. She was exhausted. She had no idea how to deal with everything that just happened. She just pressed forward. She gave up on hoping the next village would help her. She just walked, because that’s all she knew how to do.

An image of dozens of corpses rose into her mind. In a flash, she flushed it out.

Her panic had left. She couldn’t even deal with that much. Her mind was a complete blank. She didn’t register the sounds of movement around her, or the feel of the weather. She relied on her reflexes to move her forward. Nothing else worked.

An image of dozens of men attacking her rose into her mind. In a flash, she flushed it out.

Zorael looked down on her, overcome with pity.

“She’s worse off than I thought she would be. I knew it would be bad, but I thought I could heal it. There’s nothing I can do about this, though.”

An image of her dead father rose into her mind. In a flash, she flushed it out.

“I chose wrong, didn’t I? I just saw a girl lying dead, and wanted to help. And, hey, I could use it as a free body. Easy to get in to and manipulate. You! Make a left here!”

An image of her hand being sliced from her body rose into her mind. In a flash, she flushed it out.

“Not even a glance. How am I supposed to help her if I can’t do anything to her? Maybe it would have been kinder to just let her die…”


A girl shambled through the forest. Her mind, a complete blank. A vision of her home in flames rose into her mind. In a flash, she flushed it out.[/spoiler-box]

Fifth Dream: A Study in Warfare, part 4 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3034101&postcount=31)

[CelestialBlade]

I love reading your writing, it's so eloquent. Zorael's been a ton of fun and I can't wait to read more, though I know how classes go. Good luck with everything and your audience will be here when you have the time.

[o0Kais0o]

Your portrayal of Zorael always makes for a good read, you really bring him to life. I'm enjoying seeing his crash course in mortal affairs. :)

[Zorafim]

Fifth Dream: A Study in Warfare, part 4

[spoiler-box]A girl stumbled through the woods. Her eyes were empty and unfocused. Her mind was a complete blank. Her clothes were soaked with blood. Some of it, her own. The trees opened up before her, and she faltered into a clearing. The scene opened to a view of simple buildings, and people going about their business. She made it to the village. But the thought never registered in her head. She shambled forward without breaking stride.

She inched toward the edge of the town. The villagers didn’t notice her, or simply ignored her. It wasn’t unusual for children to play out in the clearing. It wasn’t until she got close that they began to notice something was wrong. A small group of women came up to her, worried.

“Dear, are you alright?”

“…help…please, help…me…”

The girl didn’t make eye contact, or stop walking. She acted like nothing was around her, and looked at nothing as she stumbled forward. A group formed around her; visibly concerned, or frightened.

“Dear… Why don’t you come home with me? I’ll look out for you until we find your parents, alright?”

“…help…please…”

The girl didn’t react. She mumbled the last thing she thought and moved forward.

“C…come. I’ll take you home.”

The woman slowly, and shakily, reached out her hand, and grabbed the girl’s. The girl walked, until her arm pulled her back. And then she stopped.

“Come on, I’ll clean you up.”

The woman started leading her to her house. The girl offered no resistance and let herself be led. Those who had no major business formed a small group and followed after them. Half formed out of compassion, and half out of curiosity. A number of them offered to help take care of the girl when they reached the house.

The girl was cleaned and dressed, and given food. She mechanically ate as the group discussed what to do with her. She was led off to bed, where she fell asleep instantly. She slept for two days, while the small group worked out plans for her.

She woke at night, while everyone was asleep. She was vaguely aware of her surroundings as she got up. She wanted to go outside. Moving slowly and without sound, she exited the house. The streets were empty. She moved to the edge of town, back to the clearing. Two orbs of water were waiting for her. When she laid eyes on them, they began to pulsate, and change form. They flattened, and gained two arms, legs, and a head. A small coat of ice formed over the surface. While this sight distracted her, a javelin crystallized into her hands. Four feet long, one inch thick, sharpened on both ends. She loosely took it into her hands, and looked back at the aquatic mannequins before her.

She wanted to hit them.

She walked forward. She weakly poked one of them with her stick. No damage. Her muscles gave off a warm sensation as they stretched. She poked again, harder. The muscles loosened more, giving off more pleasure.

She struck again.

And again.

And again.

Harder.

And harder.

And harder.

She wasn’t focused on anything. She didn’t notice when she started screaming. She just struck again and again, and relished in the pleasure her body bathed in. Adrenaline soaked through her, as dopamine washed away her pain. Her intensified heart beat rushed oxygen to parts of her body which had been doing without. She ignored the buildup of lactic acid as she struck as hard as she could. Each time she struck, she screamed as loud as she could, and a memory flashed into her head.

The screams of women and the sound of fire.

The feeling of an intense grip on her throat.

A sword of ice running a man through.

Each image brought her intense pain, and each thrust washed that pain away. Her body soaked in an intense cocktail of chemicals, battling each other for control of her emotions. She screamed and she swung, coaxing her beating heart and her aching muscles to weigh the balance of the battle in her favor.

The last of the images faded into her memory, and the pain subsided. The painkillers released from her stiffening muscles kept her up for a few more minutes. Her muscle’s protests eventually won out, and she stopped. Her heart raced, and her breathing ran ragged. She afforded herself a look at the instruments around her. There were dozens of holes in both of the mannequins, and both ends of her spear were dulled to a rounded point.

She heard yells behind her. The javelin melted into freezing water. The mannequins fell with a splash. Footsteps sounded behind her. She turned around and looked at them. A group of almost a dozen people rushed out to meet her, all shouting questions and reprimands.

“What are you doing out here?”

“Where you yelling? What’s wrong?”

“How could you leave the village like that? Don’t you know it’s dangerous?”

She looked at each of them, then at the village, with a dumbstruck look on her face.

“…where am I...?”[/spoiler-box]

Fifth Dream: A Study in Warfare, part 5 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3042625&postcount=34)

[BIG OLAF]

You use really good imagery, especially with the 'striking' bit in that last Dream.

But, come of brosef, don't leave us hanging! Don't be like me, ha.

even though i'm a week behind because i got sick so that's a valid excuse

[Zorafim]

I'm actually proofreading my next, erm... part? Damn, I don't know what to call my sections anymore. But I have something ready. In fact, I might have it by tonight.

Really, I think I just wrote myself into a rut. The next part I have ready isn't really interesting. I just want to get the backstory over with so I can get to the good stuff. I mean, it's called Daydreams of an Angel and a Fish, and there's no fish!

Thanks for the extra bit of motivation, though. That helps me get through some pieces when I get into a funk.

[Zorafim]

Fifth Dream: A Study in Warfare, part 5

[spoiler-box]“Tell us what happened.”

The group returned to the house they had just left. The home’s owner was busy darting about, providing snacks and drinks, and otherwise making sure everyone was comfortable. Half of the group, however, was more concerned with the girl they were caring for than of their own comfort, blinded by compassion for the young figure before them. The other half began to grow terrified of the girl and her strange behavior, staying only out of a sense of responsibility.

The young girl sat at the center of attention. She was wrapped in a blanket, and held a warm cup of soup in her hands. She kept her gaze down so she didn’t have to meet the eyes of anyone in the room. She kept quiet through the questions she was being asked. She was overwhelmed, and did not know how to respond.

“Come, dear. We want to help you. But we need to know what happened.”

She kept quiet.

“Well, do you have a name? We can start with that.”

She took a minute to answer.

“…Torva.”

“Torva. What a lovely name.”

The compliment was paid to ease the girl’s thoughts. All it did was make her more nervous.

“And where do you live, Torva?”

“…Gemisek.”

The room stirred at this. “Isn’t that the next village?” “That’s 30 miles from here!” “How did she get all the way over here?”
The room bustled for a time. Torva sunk down a little more into herself at the commotion she caused.

“Child, how did you get here? Gimesek is a long ways from here.”

She sat in silence.

“Where are your parents? They must be worried sick about you.”

She sat in silence for a few more seconds. Then she began sobbing. She cried out before long.

One of the older women went up to Torva and embraced her. The girl sobbed in her shoulder as the woman patted her head.

“There there, child. Everything will be fine. We’ll fix everything right up, won’t we? We’ll just take you right back home tomorrow, and everything will be just like it was before.”

Torva shook her head vigorously in the woman’s embrace.

“Oh? Why not? It would be such a relief to your parents when yo-“

“Daddy’s dead!”

The girl cried out into the woman’s shoulder. The room was shocked into silence. Horror was evident in everyone’s face. All eyes were glued to the girl. Eventually, one voice was brave enough to speak up.

“What happened?”

The girl took a few moments to collect herself, then turned her head to the group. She tried to look at each person, but her head refused to rise. She looked around a bit, eyes slightly lower than they should be. Her voice shook as she spoke.

“I was doing my chores, like mom told me to. I was outside, and heard some people yelling. I thought they were playing. So I looked up to see. Some workers were running over and shouted. Dad came out of the house looking scared. He talked with one of them. Then he told me to go to my room, and he took his rake and ran off with them. I went inside. Mom must have heard, because she took me and went into her room. She locked the doors and we hid in the closet. But they found us.”

“Who found you?”

“Shush! We finally got her talking!”

“Keep going. We need to hear everything.”

She gazed at the floor for a few seconds, trying to collect herself. She raised her eyes slightly before she continued.

“They were bad men. I never saw them before. They carried us away, and took Mom somewhere. One of them was hurting Dad. He took me and pulled Dad. He took us to the forest. He hit Dad, and he fell down. Then he started hurting me. I don’t remember falling asleep, but I must have, because I woke up later. The man was gone, but Dad was still there. But he was…”

She choked on her words.

“His neck was bleeding, and he wouldn’t move. The bad man came back, so I ran. He called his friends, and they chased me. They almost caught me, but a spirit gave me a knife and saved me. I don’t remember what happened after that. I guess I walked here.”

The group waited impatiently until the girl was finished. Once it was clear she was done, the group stirred into action.

“Gemisek was attacked!” “Who could have done it?” “Did they have any enemies?”
The group was ablaze with chatter. One of the men spoke to the girl:

“What did the men look like?”

Torva withdrew back into herself for a short moment. He was about to give up and rejoin the conversation before she raised her head and answered.

“They were dirty, and their clothes were torn. All their stuff was broken. They all had weapons. Axes and spears.”

“Dirty, torn clothes, weapons… Did they take anything?”

She nodded. “They had carts. They put things they got from houses into them.”

The group turned back to each other.

“Bandits?”

“I thought they only attacked travelers. They’re attacking towns now?”

“We need to tell the militia. We could be next!”

One of them turned back to the girl. “Torva, do you know where they’re headed? Did you see where they went?”

She shook her head. “They’re dead now. The spirit killed them.”

“The spirit? What spirit?”

“I told you before. A spirit came and gave me a knife. Then he killed them all while I ran away.”

“She’s gone mad. Poor child. She must have dreamt something up on her way here.”

“I didn’t dream it! I can show you!”

They ignored her as they planned.

“She said she ran here because one of the bandits found her. Could they have followed her?”

“They would be here by now if that were the case.”

“Maybe they’re preparing. We should attack them before they attack us!”

“Maybe they know we’ll attack. Maybe they ran away?”

“Then we should check on Gimesek. Winter will be harsh without their help.”

“I wanna go,” Torva whispered.

“I’ll warn the militia in the morning. They’ll know what to do.”

“I wanna go,” Torva said, clearly audible.

“I guess that’s all we can do for now. We should all get to sleep.”

“I want to go!” Torva shrieked.

This caught everyone’s attention. She glared at nobody in particular, face filled with a determined anger. The woman next to her replied.

“Darling, you can’t. It’s too dangerous. They’re going to take care of the bad men, but they might not be able to protect you. What happens if they attack you, like they did before?”

“The spirit will protect me again. He likes me, and he’s strong.”

The woman gave a sigh. One of the men took over.

“It’s a bad idea. You can’t go.”

“You can’t make me stay. I’m going even if you say no!”

She glared right at him as she shouted this. Another man joined the conversation.

“There’s no telling what she might do. It might just be safer to let the militia take care of her.”

“You have a point. Alright, kid, you can go. But be careful, and listen to what you’re told.”

She simply nodded, keeping her face harsh.

“Well, if that’s settled, I’m heading back to bed.”

The group started their farewells, and the house emptied. The man of the house grumbled at the work he was pulled into as he went to bed, while the woman started cleaning up. Torva head back to her room and closed her door. She was tired, but didn’t feel like sleeping. She laid in her bed, staring at the ceiling. She thought back to the last couple of days, finally having time to meditate on all that’s happened. And the more she thought back, the angrier she became.[/spoiler-box]

Fifth Dream: A study in Warfare, part 6 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3048083&postcount=36)

[Zorafim]

Man, the length of this dream is just too long. I'll need at least another three parts to finish it up. I'm starting to question my naming scheme.

[Zorafim]

Fifth Dream: A Study in Warfare, part 6

[spoiler-box]The skies were clear on this cool morning. The sun beamed down into the woods, flitting rays of light across the forest floor through the canopy. The silence of the peaceful day was interrupted only by a single band of men, carelessly blaring at each other to pass the time. Each carried a lovelessly made weapon forged from whatever was laying about: Rickety swords, hastily modified hatchets, and cheap blades on sticks. They wore barely suitable armor which did its job and nothing else. They talked about their current assignment, or of their hobbies, or of local women. In the back followed a young girl, struggling to keep up with the gaits of the much larger men.

Torva’s eyes were heavy, struggling to keep themselves up. Her body ached, stiff from improper use. She had exhausted herself the days before; both to save her life, and to save her sanity. But still, she pressed on. She needed to see what became of both her home, and the men who desecrated it. And so, she willed herself forward. Her legs screaming at each step, and her head lightening with each breath.

A few miles away from their destination, the troop of men came across another group. Their manner and equipment marked them as harvesters. Five of them were gathered sparsely around the trees, looking for their day’s harvest. The squad’s leader took notice of this find, and called out to them.

“Oi! We’re traveling to Gemisek to take care of a complaint! Do you fellows know anything about it?”

The closest man stopped what he was doing and straightened himself, before replying: “A complaint? No, I can’t say I know anything about that. Though, I can’t really speak for any of my friends here.”

The squad leader replied back: “Mind if we ask you about it anyway? You might make our job much easier, and it shouldn’t take too long.”

The harvester motioned for his friends. They spoke with each other, but they were too far away for any of the squad members to hear. Torva ignored this scene, until she noticed water starting to form around her hand. It coalesced and solidified into a short handle. She grabbed it, and felt its warmth, as the rest of the tool formed. A javelin formed in her hand, as a cautious fear rose up inside her. This is when she grew wary of the group in front of her.

She couldn’t quite see from her vantage point. Too many bodies scrunched together in front of her to get a clear view. So while the small squad was focused on the group in front of them, she walked over to the side to get an unobstructed view.

The group was a hundred or so feet away, so she didn’t have a clear sight of them. But even so, she realized she did not recognize any of them. Her village was small enough that she should know everyone in it. And no other village was close enough for their members to wander so close. Not seconds after setting eyes on the group, she saw them for what they were. Her eyes flared in anger. Her grip tightened around her newly formed weapon. And she charged, screaming.

“Hey, wait! Uh… hey, what’s that girl’s name again?”

“Why are you asking me? You just told me to suit up and march.”

None of the company tried to stop the girl as she charged out. Nobody saw the danger she was rushing into, or the intention behind her sprint. She charged unopposed into the group in front of her, intent on skewering them all through.

She reached the man closest to the squad and started striking haphazardly. Given plenty of time to react, the man easily dodged each strike.

“What is this? Why do they have a girl with them? Why is she attacking me?”

“Don’t hurt her! That’ll give us away! They’re eating out of our hands now, we can’t blow it!”

“That’s nice and all, but she’s pretty angry. I don’t think she’ll just sit down and behave.”

Calling this a fight would be a disgrace. The girl showed fierce determination, but her skill and strength were simply non-existent. She pushed herself as hard as she could, but her strikes were sluggish and weak. The defender simply stepped out of the way of each attack, desperately trying to find a way to salvage the situation. But Torva struck as fierce as she could, as she buried a growing fear with intense waves of anger.

The display ended suddenly when one of the men struck Torva from behind. It didn’t take much force to knock the girl out. With the scene finished, the men turned their attention back to the squad in front of them, and gave their most innocent smile.

“Heh, troublesome child,” one of them exclaimed out to the troop.

The troop responded: “So you know the girl then?”

It was obvious the squad did not get a clear view of the incident which had just occurred. Relieved, the false harvesters tried their best to gain the upper hand on the situation.

“Erm, yeah. Always a loud one.”

“Good. You should be able to take care of her, then. We really shouldn’t be having a kid around for what we’re doing.”

“And… what is that, exactly?”

“We were sent out to investigate a bandit attack on this village. Do you know anything about it?”

“Bandits? No, nothing like that here. Everything’s been quiet so far as I can remember. Where did you hear this from?”

“The girl, apparently. Said the bandits killed her old man and kidnapped her mother.”

“Oh, erm, I wouldn’t worry about it then. The girl has always been a troublemaker. She probably made the whole thing up out of boredom. You should probably just go on home, we’ll deal with her from here.”

“We’d better check out the village anyway. We need to make sure everything’s under control, you know. It’s a pain, but we’ll be quick.”

“Ah, such a shame to waste your time. But if you insist, would you like a guide?”

“No need to bother yourselves. We know its general location, and you folks look busy.”

“Oh I insist! These woods can be tricky if you aren’t careful. I couldn’t stand myself if you fine men got lost.”

“Well, we can’t say no to that. Alright, lead on!”

The squad approached the small group on their march to Gemisek. As they did, the bandits schemed their next plan.

“I’ll try to lead them away from the goods. Take care of the girl, rush to the main camp, and warn them this army’s coming while I distract them. We might be able to walk out of this yet.”

“It’s not much of a ‘Main Camp’ if there’s nobody there, you know.”

“Damn it, not now. Just get into position.”

The one bandit went out to lead the troop astray as best as he could. When they were out of viewing distance, the rest of the bandits turned their attention back on the girl.

“Well, no reason to stall anymore. Who wants to do it?”

“I’m not gonna stick a girl!”

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

One of the bandits brought out an axe he had hidden under his cloak. He approached her collapsed form as he hefted the weapon. He stopped by her legs, and lifted his weapon to a striking position. He didn’t notice the faint glow coming from the back of her head.

He struck, hard enough to cleave her weak body open. As he did, the girl’s legs kicked up behind her head. As he struck ground, the girl righted herself in a reverse somersault. The group looked on in a faint daze as they tried to assess the situation.

“You know, I’m really trying to like you.”

A voice, sounding much too mature, came from the girl who was unconscious just seconds ago. Her eyes were relaxed. Her mouth curled into a kind smile. Her head tilted slightly, playfully. Her weight shifted comfortably to her left side, as she twirled her javelin absentmindedly with her right hand.
Before any of the men before her had a chance to raise their voice, she continued.

“I understand your situation. You don’t have any skills or resources to trade. So, you’re forced to take what you can get, however you can. It’s tragic, really.”

She sang, more than she spoke. Her voice rang cheerfully as her body shifted playfully side to side. Every couple of seconds, she spun her javelin.

“I wanted to help you guys out. Really, I did. I even made a list and everything. But every time I think I have everything figured out, one of you guys does something stupid and ruins it.”

She substituted her quick spins with a throw, twirling her javelin in the air as if it were a baton with a quick flick of her wrist. Each revolution hid a small amount of vapor binding on to the weapon.

“Really, did you have to attack a little girl? Of all things, that was your best plan?”

The failed executioner finally spoke up: “Don’t give us that bull! You’re the one that attacked us! You think we’re just going to let you go when you try to run us through?”

Torva chuckled nervously, and brought her left hand behind her head.

“Heh, sorry about that. It seems like this body can get a bit too emotional. I tried to warn her, but she just wouldn’t listen. It seems like she misunderstood why I gave her the spear.”

She kept on habitually tossing the weapon without missing a beat. It had already lengthened considerably.

“What are you acting so nonchalant for? You think you’re getting out of this alive?”

She lifted her gaze up to the sky, as she continued her twirls.

“What a beautiful sky. It looks so much nicer through these eyes. The breeze is delightful… The smell, wondrous… How could this child be this miserable when she gets to experience such things?”

His patience lost, the failed executioner started:

“That’s enough out of you.”

He closed the gap between them in two steps. He swung wide, low, and fast. She dodged backwards with a slight giggle, as her lance spun in the air. He caught his axe’s momentum, and readied a follow-up strike. The same moment, she caught her lance, and it twirled across her fingers. The polearm’s dance ended when the lance crashed high into the opposing axe at an angle, as the axe came in for its second strike. The impact shattered the lance’s head from its handle, as it knocked the axe’s blade over the girl’s head. She leaned back, giggling slightly. The head of the lance wedged itself neatly into its opponent’s arm, as his hand fell limp. His axe flew to the ground, followed by a trail of blood.

“Now, I know why you’re doing this. You have to eat, after all. But I can’t just have you killing people whenever you want. I want to make you promise to never hurt anyone again, but I know you won’t. I don’t want to kill you, though. Already, I was too harsh on your friends.”

As the girl lectured her insanity, the bandit howled in pain. He squeezed his arm, trying to stop the bleeding. A star shaped blade jutted painfully out of the wound.

“So, I’ll just maim you instead. How does that sound?”

She walked, slowly and joyfully, to the man thrashing about. He backed away from her in a panic. She darted suddenly to him, her face coming within inches of his. She smiled joyously at him as she grabbed the center of the star jutting out of his arm. She let his fear do the rest of the work, as he yanked his arm away from her. The sudden trauma finished severing the nerve in his arm, paralyzing his hand.
He would never swing a weapon again.

It took until now for the bandit’s comrades to react. The three of them swarmed after the girl at once. She threw both parts of her lance over her shoulder, then jumped back three steps. The pieces arced together, twirled around each other, and formed before returning to her hand. Her smile never left her face.

The three of them came at once, but the one in the middle was forced to go around his injured friend. With this delay, only two of them were able to attack in unison. They both swung wide, overreaching to catch the fleeing girl. She focused on the one on the left.

His strike overreached. A duck and a wide step forward, and she was past his effective range. While he was off balance from his hack, she let her momentum keep her moving forward as she spun behind him. She broke off the bottom spike of her lance with her left hand, and used her circular motion to deliver her counter attack. Her momentum found its way to her left hand, and distributed itself across the right leg of the larger man as her spike found its target. Once again, her weapon found itself inside a nerve.
He would never chase a helpless child again.

She focused her attention on the closest unharmed attacker. This time, the man in the middle. He didn’t expect the girl’s sudden motion forward, so he was unprepared to defend himself. All of his vital spots were wide open for the girl to pierce. Instead, she noticed his leg locked up as he stopped suddenly. She grabbed the heel of her lance and swung hard, pushing against the weapon with everything she had. It made contact, and shattered his knee inward.
He would never carry away a haul again.

Three men incapacitated by pain, one was left to down. He had fumbled around the few seconds the fight took place, never being able to get a clear shot with her darting around his comrades. Seeing two of them downed in the same instant, however, he lost his resolved. He turned and ran. His longer gaits prevented the girl from catching up to him. Instead, she planned to stop him before he got a lead on her. Her weapon’s weight on her left side, she was in an awkward position to reach him. Instead, she spun the lance around her left wrist, raised her arm, and tossed it. It arced swiftly in the air, before it caught him in the left shoulder with its backward facing spike. It tore open the muscle supporting his arm.
Thus ended his bandit related activities.

Calling this a fight would be a disgrace. The men barely got a chance to defend themselves. Each was crippled by a single strike, and would never recover. The girl surveyed the damage she caused. Each injury looked bad, but none were fatal. She huffed a quick sigh, inhaled sharply, and smiled broadly at her work.

Half a minute later, a loud noise became noticeable. The victor of this skirmish jumped back, not allowing the men she dropped any surprise attacks. Comfortable at the distance, she looked back at the commotion. The troop rushed back over, each man wearing a startled face.

“What was that noise? What’s going on?”

The men surveyed the scene before them. They saw a girl smiling back at them, happy as could be. Blood was splattered all over her clothing. Behind her, three men lay in varying states of agony. And a fourth limped away with an uncomfortable tool lodged in his shoulder.

“H…how did you manage to fuck up this badly?” was the only response heard from the group. The fifth disguised bandit completely forgot his roll from the sheer shock of the scene.

“You… what have you done?” The squad commander finally spoke. He looked at the girl with complete fear and disgust. She looked back with complete innocence and joy.

“You get sent on a mission, to take care of bandits. You’re sent to a village, which was attacked by bandits. You escort a girl, misplaced 30 miles by being chased by bandits. You come across a group of men. And you don’t wonder if they might be bandits?”

She scolded him with a cheerful tone.

“Of course not. You just send a helpless young girl over to a group of men you just met, and hope everything is okay. Really, how hopeless. It’s a good thing I was here, otherwise these guys would have gotten away. Oh, and killed the girl in your protection, if you care.”

“…Bandits?”, was the only reply given.

The young figure sighed before continuing. “Yes~ bandits. Go check them. Weapons, maybe some stolen goods. Mind the wounds, they look painful.”

The men looked on in disbelief. This was not the same girl they had been escorting.

“I’m kind of uncomfortable taking over a body like this, so I’m just going to take my leave now. When Torva comes back, could you tell her that her water spirit is very cross with her, and to never attack anyone again unless she has to?”

The group looked on in silence.

“Erm, I’ll take that as a yes. And someone please carry this girl. You have no idea how badly these legs hurt.”

She turned her gaze back to the injured trio behind her.

“Well, they do, I guess.”

She turned back to the troop and smiled broadly.

“Until we meet again!”

Her smile faded. Her face and posture sank suddenly. She walked away, sluggishly. Over to a bloodied lance, left behind by a fleeing bandit. She grabbed it, and held tight to it, as if for safety. She walked back over to the troop, and stood in front of them; looking at their feet for several seconds. One of the men broke the awkward silence.

“The, um, water spirit sai-“

“I heard.”

She stood awkwardly for a few more seconds, before she gestured over to the side of the group.

“Maim him too.”

The troop turned their attention to the uninjured bandit, slinking away in the distraction. He turned his head back awkwardly at being discovered.

“…damn it.”

The troop stared at the bandit for a few moments, and the bandit stared back. He gave an awkward smile. Then he began his sprint.
The troop went after him immediately.

Torva turned away from the scene, and toward her village; finally so close. She slunk forward, walking in a sluggish gait. Her hands awkwardly grabbed her lance as if it were a comforting toy, as it melted down her arms.

The skies were clear and beautiful. The sun beamed down, flitting its warm rays across the cool ground. The leaves danced in the wind as the branches hummed a song for anyone willing to listen. Torva ignored all of this as she walked.
She would be home soon.[/spoiler-box]

Author's notes:
[spoiler-box]Again, I'm spending way too much time on this saga. The entire purpose behind this dream was supposed to be to show off Zorael's fighting style. And yet, it's taking up more and more space. Next chapter, I will officially have as many chapters in this saga, as the rest of the story combined.

Still, I have to say I'm starting to become proud of my writing. I'm finally putting some description on what's going on. And each chapter is getting longer, too. I'm just going to take this saga as practice for when I get into the important stuff.[/spoiler-box]

Fifth Dream: A Study in Warfare, part 7 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3051303&postcount=38)

[o0Kais0o]

You should be proud, you're proving to be a talented teller of tales.

[Zorafim]

Fifth Dream: A Study in Warfare, part 7

[spoiler-box]A child walked through the forest, backtracking through a familiar trail. Knowing where to look, she spotted signs of struggle. Broken branches, flattened grass, disrupted dirt, splatters of blood. Many bodies were left on the ground precisely where the girl remembered them falling, but some were missing. She searched for signs of where they went, but the trails of dirt marks and limping shoeprints were lost to the stampede which happened before.

The girl held the melting remnants of a leftover weapon gifted to her. Once a sparkling partisan, all that remained was a cracked shaft. Each minute, its size lessened as the implement wept. Yet still, she held to it dearly, even as its frozen touch burned her hands raw.

Behind her, a personal army escorted her back home. They shouted at two captives they acquired an hour before. One’s shoulder bore a heavy wound, his arm falling limp into a makeshift sling. The other was uninjured, though many in the company feared the wrath of the helpless child they were protecting should his health remain. The prisoners provided enough of a distraction that most of the company completely missed the tales of war surrounding them. It took the wandering gaze of a disinterested spearman for the company to be alerted to the death surrounding them.

“Hey… guys? What is that?”

He pointed at a far off grouping of bodies. Too far off to see their wounds or health, the group could only speculate about them.

“That’s what I was trying to lead you away from. No point hiding it now, I guess.”

The healthy captive spoke. One of his keepers replied, anger evident in his voice:

“Did you do this? Answer me!”

“Sheesh! Give me time to reply, will ‘ya? No, we didn’t do it. Those are our men on the floor. Why would we butcher them?”

All of the militia gazed over to the bodies, each trying to make sense of the situation.

“If all of those are yours, then who killed them?”

“Hell if I know. All that I know is that I ignored an attack call to pack up with a small group. I didn’t hear from them again until a few of them came back. An old man, carrying a guy that looked like he had his gut ripped open. He told my group to come, and he took us to see, well, this.”

He gestured over to another group of bodies the troop missed.

“ ‘e told us to carry them back to the town. Nothing to fear there but corpses on the ground and slaves in cages now, so it was a good spot to dress up the injured. And man, were they injured. None of them would tell me what happened. Either from fear, pain, or just not being awake. So I have no idea what could have happened.”

A high voice rang from the front of the group, which the bandit learned to fear. “He killed them all.”

The brigand sighed as a chill ran up his spine. “I was afraid you were going to say that.”

He knew who she was talking about. She insisted on a spirit protecting her. And after what he saw, the bandit didn’t doubt her.
He couldn’t figure out what exactly happened. But the two things he knew of was a creepy girl talking about ghosts, and a massacre. He did not want to get involved with that combination more than he had to.


The trees opened to them as the group finally made it to the village. Before the group could get a clear view of the layout, they were greeted by a few of the villagers. Two shady looking men dressed in far too much dirt. They ran up to the group and started their rehearsed introductions.

“Welcome to our village, um,”

“Gemisek! What brings you fine folk here?”

The girl pointed at them and looked halfway back to her entourage. “Them too.”

The actors struggled to keep a friendly demeanor as they tried to piece together what the girl was saying. The group behind her already knew, however. She wanted them crippled.

“Yeah, guys, not gonna work. They know.”

“Pete? Is that you? What happened?”

“Girl escaped, got help, and found us. She’s pissed, and that’s not good. You might want to run.”

“Quiet!” the soldier next to him warned, far too late to be of any use.

“Erm, thanks. Will do.”

They took off as fast as they could, as the troop cried out. “Get them!”

They left the two prisoners alone as they started the chase. Pete slowly backed up, before catching Torva’s eyes. They flared back at him. He stood back in position, and turned his face casually to avoid the girl’s gaze. She walked back to them, and started to push them towards the village. They jumped at her touch, and startled forward in fear.

“Oh god I’m going I’m going don’t touch me!”


Two prisoners richer, the group made their way to the center of the village. The aftermath of the raid was plainly evident. Broken doors, shattered windows, corpses holding crude weapons. The group looked on in horror and pity. This village was dear to them. It hurt seeing it in such a state.
Torva was surprised at herself. She was dreading seeing this. But after what she went through, the shock was much less in comparison.

After roaming the streets for a while, the group finally found what they were looking for. A caravan of the brigand’s loot lay open for all to see on the street. Most of the carts held valuables and provisions taken in the raid. Many instead held human cargo; captured villagers held tightly together in cramped cages. Torva took immediate interest. She scanned each mobile prison until she found what she was looking for.

“Mom!”

She rushed forward, finally seeing her mother for the first time in days. Though uninjured, she displayed obvious signs of neglect. Her eyes sunk and her flesh shriveled from lack of nourishment. The woman weakly turned her head to her child, and smiled meekly.

Torva examined the bars with great concern, until she found the lock keeping them in. She fervidly looked it over, before turning back to the militia. She looked back nearly in tears, and cried out.

“Open it!”

The troop looked back at the girl with swollen hearts. This was the first time they saw her display any real human emotion. A few of them moved forward and tinkered with the lock. They eventually managed to break it, and helped the captives out of the cage, while the girl looked on frantically. She waited eagerly, until her mother finally stepped out. The girl rushed forward, and gripped her mother’s waist tight as a vice as she cried into her skirt.

The two found a place to sit, the child never letting go. They stayed seated for a long while: The girl crying into the woman’s dress; the woman stroking the girl’s hair. All the while, the cages emptied. Torva’s attention finally shifted when she heard some commotion in another part of the camp. She looked up, and saw a second portion of the troop engaged in another activity. They had found the rest of the raiding party, all injured and laying in cots. She gestured a loving goodbye to her mother before she went over to investigate.

The injured bandits moaned dejectedly as they accepted their capture. Few of them had enough strength to move, let alone run. Torva walked through the camp, surveying each bandit that lay in his cot. She recognized each one. Each had tried to kill her, and each was cut down by her guardian spirit’s weapon. She recognized the wounds more than the faces. She saw stab wounds, deep gashes, and hanging flesh underneath the bandages that covered them. Her anger built as she recalled scenes from her battle. This anger flared until she found something which made it burst.
His belly was dressed totally in a linen cloth. Blood stained the cloth in each of the dozen shallow knife wounds which littered his abdomen. His face winced in pain as he held himself up. A face which smiled in smug satisfaction days before as he tore off her hand in front of her father.

Her face contorted into a bestial snarl. Her hands gripped tighter the fragile weapon she held. And she howled, louder than the beasts of hell, as she rushed forward at the man who tortured her.

His head tilted up, startled at the sudden noise. In return, a bar of ice shattered itself on his skull.

Torva shoved him onto his back, and leapt on top of him. Her hands struck wildly at the wounds littering his torso. He shouted in shock as she jumped him, and in pain as his wounds reopened to her blows. His limbs flailed as she pounded into him. She resisted every attempt of his to get her off, and she shrieked into his face as she flailed wildly.

Hands grabbed at her as concerned militiamen took notice of the scene. She shook them all off as she continued her onslaught.

This one will not survive.[/spoiler-box]

Fifth Dream: A Study in Warfare, part 8 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3054476&postcount=42)

[o0Kais0o]

This saga continues to be awesome, loving the the end of the chapter.

[stukasa]

I'd been meaning to read your story for a while, I just always found myself too busy, so finally I decided I was going to set aside time for it and read it over a span of three days. And I did, and it's really good! I haven't read some of the other comments but I'm sure it's been said that you do a great job of painting a picture, and I can see your descriptions improving over time.

The three things that stood out to me the most are: 1) the conversation between God and Zorael where God admits he didn't create those people (at least, not intentionally). I love those types of philosophical questions and the idea that maybe what we assume about things isn't necessarily true. 2) The way you did the 'First Contact' story out of order, which gives a completely different perspective to the events. Rather than tell us what's going on from the start, you introduce the events in a way that's more mysterious and draws the reader in. 3) Torva's battle with the bandits. I think these scenes were the clearest expression of your improvements, or at least where you were able to showcase your talents the best. The word use and sentence structure were done very well.

All that being said, I do miss Zorael's musings/experiments and his conversations with God. Hopefully we'll get to see more of that in the future! ^^

P.S. Your link to the Fourth Dream actually leads to the Third Dream, just wanted to point that out.

[Zorafim]

Thank you for your-


P.S. Your link to the Fourth Dream actually leads to the Third Dream, just wanted to point that out.

OSHI

[Zorafim]

Fifth Dream: A Study in Warfare, part 8

[spoiler-box]Darkness had long since swept over the room. The already poorly kept dwelling showed obvious damage from the pillaging it had suffered not long ago. Furniture and unwanted clothing arranged themselves haphazardly across the room wherever they saw fit. The door was broken off its hinges, and large splinters of wood dotted the floor. All of these things were insignificant compared to the precious ornamentation laid carefully on top of the damaged bed in the center of the room.

There lay a woman, still lovely despite the neglect she suffered the days before. Though now well fed, her body showed signs of starvation. And despite the tortures she had endured, she lay with a peaceful face and a contented smile.
Held tight in her arms lay her child.

They held each other in an inseverable embrace. Each had feared the worst of the other. Each had suffered torments unknown to the other. But tonight, that no longer mattered. They held each other tightly, fearing what would happen if they let go again.

“I’ve fulfilled my promise.”

Torva woke to find herself on harsh rocks, roughly jetting out of the sea surrounding it. Winds raged wherever they pleased, pushing up furious waves of water striking against anything foolish to get in their way. Clouds above mirrored the angry storm below, swirling around the jagged island the girl rested on. The one break in the clouds was the storm’s eye, allowing a sight to the sky above. And even that shared in the storm’s fury. The sun blazed angrier than it ever has, spitting flames in every direction. And the moon jutted out in hatred, screaming at everything before it. Each saw the need to make their rage known, growing to impossible size as they filled the sky as they pleased.

“I’ve made everything possible which you wanted.”

There was only one spot spared of this storm’s tantrum. A small pool of still water, near to the child’s island, stood in stark contrast to the violent waves surrounding it. It was lit by a stray beam of light, allowing it to glow a soft blue. Above it hung a winged serpent. Its body was made up of the pure, calm water which sat below it. And its eyes shown a lovely light, pure as a far away star.

“And yet, you’re still unsatisfied.”

Torva stood and faced the beast. Her face and posture a stark contrast to the last time the two met. She gave no attention to the sights surrounding her. Instead, she looked at the creature addressing her. Anger bit into her voice as she replied:

“They tore me apart, and left me to die. They chased me for miles before you finished them. They killed my dad, and starved my mom. My village is ruined because of them. And my life has been hell since they came. How could I be satisfied? They each deserve worse than death, and many of them didn’t even get that.”

The rage of the storm paled in comparison to that of the child’s face. With each venom soaked word, the winds shrieked louder, and the waves crashed harder. Yet the serpent sat unmoving, floating softly in the air above its sanctuary. Its voice was soothing in comparison to its surroundings.

“I’m not satisfied either.”

Heavy rain blurred the scene. Yet the two figures never broke eye contact as they conversed.

“I never told you what I wanted in exchange for my help last time we met. I was rather rushed at the time. It doesn’t matter, though. You gave me what I wanted, willingly. But, I would like this to be official. I will ask you again.

What do you want?”

The deluge around them yelled and cursed. The waves battered and crushed. Torva dropped her head, and closed her eyes in thought. Torva looked back at the serpent and spoke:

“I want every bandit dead. Every last one of them.”

Glints of light sparkled across the serpent’s body as the water danced across its flesh.

“Very well.”

A chunk of rock broke off from the small island and broke into the sea. Its sound was lost to the storm around it. Torva replied:

“And? Didn’t you want something from me? Am I supposed to give something up?”

“Raiding will be erased from history, such that nobody will even remember the word bandit. This, I will grant you. And in exchange, you will be the one to do it.”

The anger in Torva’s face was momentarily replaced as she was taken aback.

“Wh… I couldn’t even kill one of them. You want me to kill all of them?”

“Not as you are now. But yes. Your arm will cut them down.”

The girl gave a sick smile.

“Okay. I’ll do it.”

“Then it’s settled.”

Waterspouts and maelstroms formed on the horizon.

“One last thing. Listen for me. I will be guiding you. Your clouded heart will deafen you to my advice. So, listen for me.”

They stared at each other. The noises of the storm overwhelmed Torva’s senses. The clouds covered what little of the sun they let through before, and darkness enveloped the scene.


Torva awoke in the arms of her mother. Darkness still filled the room. She carefully slinked out of the bed, and exited the room. She halted as she passed her own room for a moment. She searched for a doll of hers, a favorite when she was younger. She took it back to her mother, and replaced her mother’s arms around the doll. She then left her home. The instant she stepped out the doorframe, a sudden rush of guilt fell over her. She shook it off, and continued walking. She was intent on leaving her village.

Leaving the boundary of the village, she saw motion in the night. Two orbs of water. They approached the girl, and started forming. They grew a pair of arms and legs each, as well as a head. The surface iced over. The remaining water approached Torva and formed into a javelin. She took this hint, and started striking the newly formed mannequins.

Her body was still unrested. Her muscles still suffered the injuries they had earned the days before. But releasing her pent up anger felt too good to stop. She tried different movements with the weapon, imagining as hard as she could the body of a bandit at the end of her pole.

This went on for a long while, until she was too stiff to move. All of the tools around her melted. She looked back out into the woods, where she had intended to go not long before.

‘Not tonight.’

She slumped back to her home. She returned to her mother’s bed. She looked her over for a moment. She still smiled warmly. Torva grabbed her doll from her mother’s grasp, and replaced herself back into the bed.

The child held onto her doll as she slept. And the mother held onto her child as she slept. For now, this was all that mattered. Tomorrow would be another day.[/spoiler-box]

Artist's depiction:
[spoiler-box]http://fc09.deviantart.net/fs70/i/2014/019/c/4/raging_world_by_q_arts-d72u5ge.jpg[/spoiler-box]

Fifth Dream: A Study in Warfare, part 9 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3058313&postcount=47)

[stukasa]

[spoiler-box]As usual you do a great job of setting the scene and illustrating what's going on in a creative and colorful way. ^^ Kind of sad such a young girl has been traumatized to the point of wanting all the bandits slaughtered, but I guess I can't really blame her...[/spoiler-box]

[Sacrificial]

OK, I caught up to the story so far.





Author's notes:
Again, I'm spending way too much time on this saga.


I seriously don't mind this at all. This kind of adventure/fantasy story type is a big favorate of mine. Really, I bought like 15-20 of these kind of style books on my last trip to the UK(because they are so much better in english than my own language). I guess I'll be a bit sad when the fifth dream comes to an end.

[Zorafim]

[spoiler-box]
As usual you do a great job of setting the scene and illustrating what's going on in a creative and colorful way. ^^

Funny. I always thought I'd do a terrible job at setting up each scene. I'm glad I'm somehow apparently good at it.


Kind of sad such a young girl has been traumatized to the point of wanting all the bandits slaughtered, but I guess I can't really blame her...

I guess that means I was successful at character development then. This is exactly the reaction I was hoping for.[/spoiler-box]


OK, I caught up to the story so far.

New fan! Thank you for reading. Hopefully I won't keep you waiting too long between chapters.



I seriously don't mind this at all. This kind of adventure/fantasy story type is a big favorate of mine. Really, I bought like 15-20 of these kind of style books on my last trip to the UK(because they are so much better in english than my own language). I guess I'll be a bit sad when the fifth dream comes to an end.

Well, then some good has come of it. I'm not sure I'm going to revisit a world like this for a while, but this one will still be around for a bit.
So another person from the Netherlands, huh? I see a lot of people from there around here.

[CelestialBlade]

I really feel for Torva myself. Looks like she's going to become quite the little badass.

I think your gift of artistically describing scenes and scenarios with words is really evident in this last part, I really enjoyed how you described Torva (depressing as it was) and the island she was on. The imagery is absolutely brilliant and I'm certainly taking notes. I'm sorry I haven't commented here much but I am following, and I'm enjoying. I too miss Zorael's musings though :P

[Zorafim]

Fifth Dream: A Study in Warfare, part 9

[spoiler-box]The tavern bustled with activity this night. Indistinct chatter melded into a mild roar as stories were laid bare on each table. Waitresses glided through crowded aisles to bring plates to customers, and a barmaid served drinks to anyone wanting less substantial meals. Near the hearth, two bards sat and played their instruments for the tips of any appreciative listeners.

The front doors swung open as a small figure lumbered through it. She threw off her cloak and unceremoniously dropped her belongings close to the nearest empty chair she could find, before ungracefully plopping herself down on to it. She gave a groan as she threw her head back, and melted into the seat. She wore a leather traveling dress, tailored for ease of motion. Though the material was sturdy and the design was protective, the dress gave little attempt at modesty. The back was bare, the cut was low, and the skirt was high. Despite its provocative nature, it had an overall sensible design for travel and rough work.

The young woman grumbled to herself under her breath.

“Uhg… I just wanna sit down…”

She hefted herself up so a sitting position in an exaggerated motion, picked up the pole she held her belongings on, and used it to push the tavern door shut without standing.

“Happy?”

She slumped back down. A waitress headed over to her location, and looked at her expectantly.

“Can I get you something?”

She replied in an almost dismissive voice.

“Meat, and ale. I don’t care what kind.”

The waitress gave a nod before leaving.

The young patron rolled her eyes, and mumbled under her breath.

“What, do you want me to bow to her or something?”

Her eyes wandered lazily around the room, before resting on the bards. Her eyes perked up, and a grin curled into her mouth, as she eyed them. She rested her body forward on the table, as she glared at them hungrily.

Though much older than her, they had youthful features. They had healthy, kempt hair, vivid eyes, stylish clothing, and played with confidence and grace. She ate in the sight as she swayed her hips, back and forward.

“What’s a cute little thing like you doing in a place like this?”

She was interrupted by another man. She quickly glanced at him. Not an unattractive man, but not to the girl’s tastes either. She ignored him and went back to her gazing.

“The boys here can get kinda rowdy. Why don’t you come sit with me, so I can keep you safe?”

“N~ot interested,” she replied without breaking her gaze from her show.

“What, are you more interested in a couple of pretty boys on a stage than a real man right in front of you?”

“Y~ep.”

“Come on. Those pansies can’t do half the stuff I can. Come over here, and I’ll show you what a real man can do.”

Finally catching her attention, she tilted her head and eyed him icily.

“Alright. Here’s one thing I’d like to see. I’ve seen some nasty wounds in my travels. Some of them I’ve had to stitch up. Some of them I got to see fester. One particularly nasty one happened when this guy’s thigh was ripped open. Blood everywhere. I’ve got no idea how to dress a wound like that. You think you can show me?”

“…the hell kinda request is-“

It took him a moment to notice her hand. It reached down into his thighs, with a small blade ready to thrust inwards.

He jumped back as soon as the danger registered in his mind. The girl’s eyes glinted in superiority. Her hand passed over her body, and her weapon disappeared. She didn’t move from her rested position.

“The hell kind of lunatic are you?”

“The kind who knows how to get a creep to stop hitting on her.”

“Dressed like that, I wouldn’t be surprised if you wanted the whole tavern to hit on you!”

Her gaze iced over again.

“A baby like you wearing something like that, I bet you wanted the eyes of every man in here on you.”

An impatient scowl appeared on her face.

“I bet you found the most grown up place you could find, and snuck out while daddy wasn’t-“

She darted forward from her rested position in a smooth motion. She tapped him briefly, and hopped back.

“What, you wanna start something little girl?”

She replied coldly. “Shoulder. Gut.”

“wha…”

He felt a slight movement along his chest. He absentmindedly brushed it off with his hand, and noticed it was wet. He looked down to find a growing red stain on his shirt. Another started growing on his stomach.

Realization hit him hard. He looked back up, and found two knives in the girl’s hands. Each dripping faintly with blood.

He started cursing as he sputtered back, grasping at his wounds. He tripped over a chair, and fell to his back.

“I’m not doing it.”

As the surrounding patrons realized what had happened, they shot up from their seats and backed away from the scene.

“He was asking for it!”

A circle had formed around the scene, each person forming it keeping a safe distance. The attacker grasped at her heart, and cursed.

“ow Ow OW Damn DAMN FINE! I’ll do it! Just stop it!”

She tossed her blades onto her table and walked forward. A scream was heard somewhere as she leaned over the fallen man. He scrambled back and kicked out at her as she did. Annoyed, she produced another knife out of nowhere and held it to his neck.

“Hold still or the next one’s instant.”

The man held still by fear, she had free access to his body. She reached her free hand over the wound on his gut. A faint light grew from it. It increased in intensity as it engulfed the wound. When it faded, she moved her hand over his other wound, and the process repeated.

She stood up, and head back to her seat. She swiped her blade over her body, and it returned to wherever it came from. She picked up the bloodied knives on her table, and did the same. She slumped back on her chair.

“Well what was I supposed to do? He was pissing me off!”

Freed from the threat, the man patted his body, checking his injuries. He couldn’t find them. A crowd gathered around to check on him, while giving the girl wide berth.

“Um, miss? Your order?”

The waitress waited at the other side of the table with a plate of meat and a mug of ale. Her eyes were wide and her body was stiff.

“Yeah, just bring it over.”

The waitress did as she was told, then began to scamper off.

“Hey, wait a moment.”

She froze in place.

“Have you heard of any village raids recently?”

She slowly turned to face the girl addressing her, and took a few seconds to compose herself before responding.

“Um… Yes, actually. There was one a few weeks ago, in a village a week’s walk south of here. And another after that one, in one a few day’s walk southwest.”

“Hum… Sipitol and Luncol? Nelip is next along that path, they’ll probably be around there by now…”

She thought out loud for a moment, then winced suddenly.

“Oh, um, thank you. For, everything. I guess.”

The waitress muttered something in acknowledgement, and backed a few steps. She gave a hurried apology to the man whose chair she stumbled into, then head back to the kitchen.

“Was that what you wanted, ‘dad’?”

She leaned back into her chair, enjoying the feeling of her muscles relaxing. After a moment, she rose, and paid proper attention to her meal. Between bites, she threw some glances to the bards.

After her meal was finished, she threw a proper gaze at them. She placed some coin on the table, rose, and walked over; hips swinging side to side, and a confident smirk on her face. Part way over to greeting them, she cringed and froze up.

“Come on, just this once!”

Her shoulders slunk as she turned back. She picked up her belongings, and head out the doors.

“So, Nelip’s probably already been hit. That means we should probably camp out at, what, Tical for the next raid?”

She listened to the silence around her.

“What? Oh come on!”

Her calm walking pace increased to a jog after her sudden exclamation. She raced off to her next destination.[/spoiler-box]

Author's Notes:
[spoiler-box]For anyone interested, yes. I do come up with the village names at random. In fact, I ask my friends for a random sequence of words, and make names out of them. This week's sequence was "Spicey towel luncheon elliptical".

So it's been a week and a half since my last update, huh? I must be being kept busier than I thought. It seems like I just updated.

My most recent song was supposed to be sung by the bards this chapter, showing that our young heroine has become famous over the years. However, I didn't like the way the song came out, and I thought the words would be distracting as you read anyway. I thought it was better not to include it.[/spoiler-box]

Fifth Dream: A Study in Warfare, part 10 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3059141&postcount=50)

[stukasa]

Really good chapter, loved the way you set up the confrontation. I'm guessing quite a bit of time has passed but it's not really clear how much (you mentioned "years" in your notes, so at least I know that much). Have you ever created Torva as a game character (in any game), or drawn (or have someone else draw) her, or anything like that? I guess what I'm asking is, does a visual reference exist anywhere you could show us? Although, since her story isn't finished yet, would showing it (if it exists) give us "spoilarz"? :p

[Zorafim]

Actually, no. She was supposed to just be a one off character. I don't even have an image of her in my mind, besides someone fairly ordinary looking. That's why I never bothered with a description of her. If it helps at all, I imagine her to have messy brown hair, brown eyes, and tan skin. Fairly lanky as a child, fairly muscular as an adult. I can also say she was supposed to be 9~12 before this chapter, and now she's closer to 14~17. Which explains all her backtalking and dumb decisions now, as well as her choice in boys.

I'm glad you liked the bar fight. I thought it was pretty pretty stale and predictable, myself. But I really wanted her in a bar fight, and I couldn't find any better excuses to start one.

[Zorafim]

Fifth Dream: A Study in Warfare, part 10

[spoiler-box]“Found you.”

A young woman peered out through the forest to a large, but simple encampment. Lightweight cots formed in circles around campfires, and a few tents rose from the ground. The woman dropped her bags on the ground, freeing herself to wield the pole she used to carry them. She untied a knot on one side of it, and removed the cloth it held to reveal a fine blade. A dim anger shone in her eyes. She stepped forward, toward the camp. A pang of worry tugged at her heart, however.

“tch, not yet?”

She hid behind the tree she dropped her items behind, and rested on it. She had been walking all day, so the rest did her good. She waited several hours, until the camp’s fires burnt out. A flare of excitement suddenly burst in her heart.

“Finally. Did you have to make me wait so long?”

She picked up her lance, and headed over to the camp again. A pang of disappointment stopped her.

“What? Why? I just got him refitted!”

She slumped her shoulders as she hid her lance with the rest of her belongings. She also threw off her cloak, leaving nothing to burden her as she worked.

“Well, what do I do if I get attacked?”

She walked over to the camp a third time, and this time made it there uninterrupted. She came up to a batch of men sleeping in a circle. She gave a smile, and pulled out one of her knives. She began to creep over, but a tug of fear pulled her back.

“Gah, then what am I doing here?”

She looked around, until she set eyes on one of the tents. That instant, a spring of hope welled up in her heart.

“Just the leaders then?”

She snuck over to the tent, through a path surrounded by sleeping cots. She kept her upper body low and still, making her movement harder to see. She drug her feet inches off the floor, just over the dried leaves and sticks, and placed them soft enough that the brittle sounds came as nothing more than a whisper. The snores and shuffles of the men around her masked any noise she made as she crept her way in to the tent. She slowly opened the flap leading in, and entered. She found her target.

Though still heavily spartan, his sleeping arrangements marked him as a more important member of the group. He was likely needed in keeping the group organized. Without him, their raids would not be as successful.

He had to go.

She pulled out one of her knives. She lifted her hand above the sleeping man. She picked a target which would prevent him from making noise if struck. Then she thrust down, with all her strength.

The blade dug far deeper than it needed to.

She lifted her weapon from out of his body. Then she struck down again. And again. And again.

Pleasure rushed through her body, seeing his corpse desecrated. Each strike increased this pleasure. And at the same time, a large rush of guilt came.

“tch, just let me have this one.”

She got bored after a while. She looked down at her work. His body was dyed red, and strips of flesh fluttered in waves across it.

She smiled at the sight. And she fantasized of the fear it would cause once discovered. She felt like adding to it. She dipped her hand onto the body, soaking it in blood. She brushed the hand against the flap of the tent, tracing a D. Then an I. Then an E.

She finally took a step back to look at the scene. Happy with how it came out, she only regretted not being able to make more of a mess.

She finally exited the tent and glanced around. A few more tents dotted the camp. Each would likely have another leader in them. One death wasn’t enough.

She eyed possible paths to the next closest tent. Fear rose up in her as she saw each of them. She eventually found one which gave her hope. Trusting the feeling, she began the trek down this path. Her body low, her motions smooth, her steps silent.

A twig snapped under her foot.

She stopped. Fear welled in her, telling her to stay quiet. She slowly dropped to the ground, supporting herself on her toes and fingertips.
She heard a rustle to her right.

One of the raiders moved in his cot.

She remained motionless, trusting her instincts. She slowly darted her eyes around, looking for possible distractions. She noticed a dark cloud fall from the sky. It passed by her, over to the source of the rustle. It passed over the man’s face, covering him in the shroud. His breathing became labored at the sudden thickness of the air around him. He slumped back down into his cot after a moment.

The mist faded into the night. The woman’s fear lifted.

She resumed her trek.

She entered her targeted tent a moment later.

A foreign guilt rose in her again as she lifted her knife. She pushed it aside as she butchered the man under it. She took his blood, and wrote “suffer” on the tent wall.

She exited the tent, and resumed her hunt.

She visited each of the leader’s tents. She found new and creative ways to shed their blood, and instill terror in the next person to visit the scene. She wrote threats on each wall. And she left each tent without a trace, save for her scarlet artwork.

Hours after she began, she slunk away from the encampment. With each leader dead, it would be a while before their next attack. And with them so brutally murdered, likely replacements would think twice before taking the job. She smiled in satisfaction at her work.

She walked over to where she left her belongings, gathered them, and left. She looked back again, wanting to murder all the men so helplessly sleeping in their simple cots. But, she knew she would suffer an unwanted attack of guilt if she did. She simply contented herself in the few deaths she was able to cause, and marched over to her next destination.

A feeling of shame washed over her at the blood on her hands. She spoke into the night.

“Don’t give me that. You know what they’ve done. They deserved worse than that.”[/spoiler-box]

Artist's depiction:
[spoiler-box]http://fc03.deviantart.net/fs71/i/2014/019/6/2/torva_s_night_out_by_q_arts-d72v0od.jpg[/spoiler-box]

Fifth Dream: A Study in Warfare, part 11 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3061126&postcount=55)

[o0Kais0o]

So, the damage to Torva went far deeper than I originally thought... Huzzah for teenage psychopaths. Entertaining as always. :D

[stukasa]

Wow, that was pretty dark! (in an awesome kinda way)
*makes mental note: do NOT cross Torva*

[Zorafim]

I guess what I'm asking is, does a visual reference exist anywhere you could show us?

Actually, I just remembered. Torva isn't even human. The reason I didn't describe her was because I couldn't describe her. Her anatomy is supposed to be so different from ours, that it should be difficult just to imagine.

Of course, this would lead to boring story telling if I didn't describe what was going on. I generally like to summarize in words easy to communicate, then later (or earlier) say that, yeah, it was actually really different. Souls communicating with each other, for instance, I summarize as them talking. But works more like it did in this latest chapter. And the Old Man in First Contact being described from his own perspective as an elder of the village, while being described from Zoreal's perspective as a creature unlike anything he's ever seen.

I shouldn't really be saying this. I should be able to clearly communicate this in my story. Maybe I'll clear it up in a later chapter.


I'm glad you guys are enjoying what I'm doing with Torva. Really, I'm tired of people in fiction suffering unimaginable stress without any side effects. She shouldn't really be even as well adjusted as she is. But I'm having fun with writing this character this way.

[stukasa]

They can't be *totally* different if they have two arms, two legs, two eyes, hair, etc. But I suppose it would be hard for readers to relate and understand if you said Torva was holding the spear with her three flirmangers (which, for the purposes of this post, are a made-up appendage that serve the function of arms).

Also, I wouldn't exaaactly say she's "as well adjusted as she is." I mean, in the last couple chapters she certainly seemed to be enjoying her sweet, gruesome revenge. >.>;

[Zorafim]

Fifth Dream: A Study in Warfare, part 11

[spoiler-box]She walked through the forest, at the tail end of a trek which had lasted a week. The trees cleared as she walked, finally opening to a field. Buildings lined into neat rows, a few dozen yards from the forest’s border. She finally arrived at her destination.

She walked through the village border. The sparse population of citizens increased in density as she walked closer to the village’s center. She kept walking until she had a good sized audience around her. She dropped her belongings, and grasped her sheathed lance. She closed her eyes, took a breath, and slowly dropped to a proper stance. In a violent motion, she tore the cloth from her lance’s head, and took a threatening pose.

The effect was immediate. The violent motion got the attention of those immediately around her, and the sight of the blade started their panic. She swung the weapon threateningly in circular patterns she learned through practice to feed the panic. Some ran immediately, fearing for their lives. Others stood away at a distance, ready to subdue a threat to their community. Once she was surrounded, she stopped. She stood straight, held her lance at hip level, and spoke.

“Took long enough. Take me to your head of defense. I need to speak with him.”

The men surrounding her stood steadfast, each keeping to their ready stances. Unarmed, they hoped to subdue this threat through teamwork.

“Come on, I don’t have all day! Let me see him!”

They held fast, looking for an opening. The young woman sighed and rolled her eyes before she spoke.

“Fine, look, here.” She dropped her lance by the feet of those circling her. “I’m unarmed. Can you please take me to him now?”

One of the men quickly reached down and grabbed the weapon before the woman had a chance to change her mind.

“Careful with him! I spent a fortune fixing him up!”

They ignored her complaints as they sized her up. Her physique was hidden under her cloak, as were any potential weapons. But considering her small stature and lack of protrusions coming from under the cloak, she looked harmless enough.

“What’s this about?” One of the men finally decided to speak.

“Your village might be in danger of an attack. I’m here to organize a defense,” the woman responded. After a brief pause for consideration, the man spoke again. “He’s over this way.”

The group began to move before the woman stopped them.

“Uh, my bags?”

The group glared at her. She replied by simply standing there, waiting. One of them finally went to gather her belongings, and slung it over his shoulder.

They restarted their walk. After a few seconds, the woman gave a sigh. She extended her hand over to the man holding her belongings without looking at him.

“Look, I’m sorry. I’ll carry my bags.”

He tilted his head in slight confusion, before handing them over. She struggled to get them over her shoulder.

“Sorry about the commotion, too. It just seemed to be the fastest way to help out.”

They remained silent and continued walking. She exaggerated a few grunts in effort against her bags.

“Uhg, these things are heavy without my stick,” she whined. “Can I have him back?”

A moment of silence.

“Aw... Fine.”

The walk continued without event.


The escort ended with the group standing in one of the larger buildings of the village. They stood in an open room, with a window peering down to the little town. An elderly man sat behind a table with various documents on it. The group escorting the woman dispersed upon reaching the building, feeling their duty to their neighbors finished. The few who wished to see this through stood beside the woman, along with a few guards who joined in.

The older man looked at the young woman with a grave face. The girl looked around the room, oblivious to the atmosphere around her.

“Who are you? Why have you come?” The old man finally spoke when the girl would not. This snapped her back into reality.

“Oh, uh, right. There was a bandit camp heading north, about one week’s march south of here. This was about a week ago. They’re about fifty men strong now. They raided Sipitol and Luncol already, and I’m pretty sure they aren’t done yet. So, you’re kinda screwed.”

The elder’s eyes widened at this news.

“But, they lost their leaders recently, so they might not even be coming anymore. Even if they are, they’re disorganized. As long as they don’t catch you guys by surprise, you should be able to protect yourselves.”

The elder replied in a heavy voice: “You know their distance, their manpower, and their structure? How?”

The girl gave a slight self important grin. She reached in her cloak, pulled out a knife stained in blood, and tossed it onto the table. The guards around her stepped forward to protect their leader, but stopped when they saw there was nothing to do.

“Uh, you guys have a good blacksmith? That knife’s kinda rusted through.”

The elder took a moment to assess the situation. “I don’t understand. What happened? Who are you?”

“My village got raided when I was younger. This pissed me off. The bandits who survived me are rotting in some pit somewhere. Since I couldn’t get them, I made it my business to get rid of the rest of their kind. That’s what I’m doing here.

Which, leads to how I know their location and manpower. I went to their camp, I got rid of as many as I could, then I headed straight here.”

The old man studied the girl as she spoke. She spoke with smug pride unfitting a girl her age. Yet he could see no sign of her lying.

“My name’s Torva. Let’s talk about defense. I have about fifty more lives I want to claim.”[/spoiler-box]

Author's Notes:
[spoiler-box]Boring, uninspired chapter. I could have just skipped it, I guess. There's no information here that's super important for the next chapter. Hopefully I'll have something more interesting for you guys next time.

I kinda felt like introducing a character this chapter just to kill him off. I feel like I'm not part of the cool club this week.[/spoiler-box]

Fifth Dream: A Study in Warfare, part 12 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3065923&postcount=58)

[stukasa]

[spoiler-box]Even if you call it a boring, uninspired chapter, I still enjoyed reading it. ^^ It also sets the stage for (what I assume will be) a battle in the next one, so in that sense you can't say it's unimportant.

And by the way, Chelsea and I never coordinate our chapters. Just wanted to mention that. :p I asked her if I could give her character a cameo that one time, that's the most "coordination" we've ever had.[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

Lies and Slander. There's a conspiracy against me going on and I know it.

[Zorafim]

Fifth Dream: A Study in Warfare, part 12

[spoiler-box]Three knocks rang from the door. Silence answered. Following the silence sounded three knocks more. The door unlocked, and slowly creaked open. The head of an older boy stuck out sheepishly in answer.

“I’m sorry,” said the visitor. “I must have the wrong room.”

The boy rushed to close the door, before being interrupted by a tired female voice.

“Whadaya want?”

“Torva? Is that you?”

“Yeah. Is it important?”

“Yes, very.”

“Alright, come in…”

The man at the door let himself in, making the boy jump out of his way. He was surprised to see the boy mostly naked, and clearly embarrassed. He found two more in the room’s bed, vainly attempting to cover their shame with the bed’s blankets. Torva’s head lay between them, unable or unwilling to muster the energy to rise. The man stood in awkward silence for a few moments.

“Well?” she asked, not bothering to raise her head.

The man gave an awkward cough, before delivering his message.

“The scouts you sent have come back with news. They found a group matching your description heading this way. They will be here within a day’s time.”

“Freaking finally. I thought they gave up,” Torva said to the ceiling. She lifted her torso to face her visitor before speaking again. She gave no attempt to cover herself as her sheets fell off her. “Tell the boss guy to ready the boys. He should know the drill by now.”

The messenger hid a disapproving tone as he spoke. “And you, miss?”

“I’ll be with him in a while,” she replied. “I’m kinda busy at the moment.”

The messenger didn’t give a reply. He turned and left. As he did, Torva swung her body off the bed, and grabbed her clothes. Before he exited, he heard her knock on her closet door.

“Get out of here. I’ve gotta get to work.”

He heard two more boys come out from hiding. He shut the door behind him and left the girl to her devices.


Zorael looked down on the town, and found himself impressed. In a few short weeks, the town had become much more defensible than when he first entered it with Torva. A minimalistic, but efficient, fence surrounded the village made of sharpened tree logs, pointed outward. Along with that, simple guard towers rose at the village’s corners, allowing a small group of men to keep watch over weaknesses in the fence, and signal flares allowed them to quickly communicate to other parts of the village. Half of the town’s defenses were at the gate’s only opening, inviting any invaders to their deaths. The rest of the defenders, and the rest of the town’s inhabitants, were in the town’s center. The civilians stayed in the central buildings, where they were most easily defended. The reserve troops surrounded these buildings to best defend them, and to most easily move to a new location should any of their defenses be breached.
It wasn’t the most well prepared village he’s seen, but for the short amount of notice it had, it built up fairly strongly.

While admiring the village, he spotted his body leaving her hotel. Torva walked to the head of defense, dressed in her armor and holding her lance. He whispered to her heart as he walked with her.

“A young woman should be careful with her body. That’s not a safe situation you put yourself in.”

“Those kids couldn’t do anything if they wanted to. Relax, I was safe the whole time.”

She answered more literally. It was a bad habit she picked up who knows when. She could have thought the words, or simply felt them, and Zorael would have picked up on them. But she said them out loud. Maybe she wasn’t sure he would hear her otherwise. Maybe she just felt important when listeners asked who she was speaking to. But at any rate, besides the occasional odd glance, the system they had worked well enough. And they were both used to the occasional odd glance for other matters anyway.

“Those ‘kids’ are older than you are.”

“ ’still kids.”

“And what does that make you?”

“A well seasoned warrior. Relax dad, I’ve got this under control.”

They arrived at the town’s main police building during their discussion. Torva spoke with the sheriff about all last minute preparations. Zorael chimed in when he could, and was mostly ignored. Before long, they finished, and Torva left. She head to the central gates, lance slung over her shoulders.

“You could leave the defenses to the militia. You may be more useful behind lines.”

“Not a chance.”

She arrived at the front gates to see a fair sized squad in waiting. They were geared and on time, but this hardly looked like a battle line.
Torva would fix this.

“Alright boys, line up. Each axe wielding maniac who passes through that gate is one who’ll skewer your mother. You wanna be the one who let him through?”

After a quick glace, the men moved to their positions. They stood in a semi-circle around the gate, and continued their lollygagging. Torva’s eyebrow raised in annoyance.

“For the love of… Eyes forward, weapons ready. Get into your stances. They could be here any second, and they’d have plenty of time to skewer you.

There, that almost looks like a defense line! Hey you, move over. You’re in my spot.”

She shoved someone in the middle aside and stepped in his place. She stood directly in front of the gate, having a great view out into the forest.

“You’re fighting with us, miss?” asked the misplaced defender.

“Yeah. Someone’s gotta show you boys how it’s done.”

She got into a deep stance, ready to lunge forward or back at a moment’s notice. She held her lance loosely in her hands in a thrusting position. Her eyes burned forward, searching the shade of the trees for any movement. Those around her copied her motions.

She whispered into the air: “You’ve got my back, right?”

She was answered simultaneously by the men around her, and from her heart. “Yes”

Bells rang from the guard towers on either side of her. The scouts have spotted movement in the brush. They shouted warnings, but their words were muffled by their distance.

The soldiers next to Torva stood in nervous attention. Torva dropped lower and twisted a smile.[/spoiler-box]


Author's Notes:

[spoiler-box]Last update on the third, today's the twentieth... That's seventeen days, or, two and a half weeks... Damn. This has been on my mind all this time, and I'm only now updating? I'm never going to get to the good stuff at this rate.[/spoiler-box]

Fifth Dream: A Study in Warfare, part 13 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3066962&postcount=62)

[o0Kais0o]

[SPOILER-BOX]...Damn, Torva has quite an appetite, huh? A solid pre-battle interlude, Torva would make a fine drill sergeant lol.[/SPOILER-BOX]

[stukasa]

[spoiler-box]loooool, what happened to our poor, innocent Torva? :lol: I'm glad you included a bit from Zorael's perspective, I missed hearing his side of things. I mean, there were scenes with Torva talking to him before, but that's not quite the same.

Somehow I have mixed feelings about Zorael's involvement with these people. I feel like he's corrupted their innocence, which is of course a silly thing to say (the bandits were there even before he showed up), but now the formerly peaceful village has been turned into a fortress of soldiers!

Like I always tell Chelsea, we're willing to wait if you're busy. Now if you're just being lazy, on the other hand, that I can't forgive... (kidding :p)[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

[spoiler-box]loooool, what happened to our poor, innocent Torva? :lol:[/spoiler-box]

[spoiler-box]You should instead ask, was she ever as pure as you thought she was? What would push her to act this way?

The answer is lack of accountability. She's a hot teenager away from mom and dad, you know this is what's going down.

But seriously, this is exactly the reaction I was hoping for. "What poor sorrow that our perfect specimen is no longer the way we want her to be."[/spoiler-box]


[SPOILER-BOX]...Damn, Torva has quite an appetite, huh?[/SPOILER-BOX]

[spoiler-box]Yeah, I heard inexperienced boys aren't that great in bed. Torva found a way around that.[/spoiler-box]


[spoiler-box]I'm glad you included a bit from Zorael's perspective, I missed hearing his side of things. I mean, there were scenes with Torva talking to him before, but that's not quite the same.[/spoiler-box]

[spoiler-box]I'm glad you miss him. It's a rare hallmark to see a story where the main character doesn't get enough screen time. Though I suppose I sort of pushed him aside for this arc.
I wanted to be thorough with my setting up the rules of my universe. Sort of ease you in to this possession thing now that I'm detailing it better. Hopefully now that everything's laid out, Zorael'll get more screentime.[/spoiler-box]


[spoiler-box]Somehow I have mixed feelings about Zorael's involvement with these people. I feel like he's corrupted their innocence, which is of course a silly thing to say (the bandits were there even before he showed up), but now the formerly peaceful village has been turned into a fortress of soldiers![/spoiler-box]

[spoiler-box]You don't know how happy I am to hear this. I never wanted a perfect character, and have been trying so hard not to make one. Is it good that Zorael's being a nice angel and helping everyone he sees? Or is everyone better off left alone? [/spoiler-box]


[spoiler-box]
Like I always tell Chelsea, we're willing to wait if you're busy. Now if you're just being lazy, on the other hand, that I can't forgive... (kidding :p)[/spoiler-box]

Yeah, it probably is laziness. Which would be fine, but my desire to finish this story is eating at me. So I'm not even able to rest when I'm not writing! Hopefully I'll be able to crunch a few chapters out of the way and get to what I really wanted to write.

[Zorafim]

Fifth Dream: A Study in Warfare, part 13

[spoiler-box]The forest edge sat in darkness, betraying no movement. Watched in anxious silence, it stood its ground. But the many eyes on it cracked its resolve. Bushes quivered, leaves snapped, branches whipped. Shadows gave way to silhouettes.

The forest’s watchers yielded in response to its anxiety. Postures slumped and stances loosened. Raised weapons waivered, and the tout line grew loose. Holding it together was a diminutive figure, barely holding back from lunging forward as a savage dog.
Above the fog of tension, an angel watched over the defenders: Guiding their swords, securing their steps, and insuring their health.

Two bells rang. The forest howled.

Out from the darkness leapt scores of savage beasts, minds blazing with fear and aggression. They crashed against the village gatepost, their large size being filtered into a small opening. Only a handful fit inside, and only this handful charged the line. Their movement battered against the line, and threatened to rip it apart. Inexperienced arms threw ineffectual blows, and the torrent halted. While held back, they fell to the head of a leafed blade darting from the hands of a tiny marksman. Each thrust of her pole earned a grotesque scream as necks, torsos, and thighs erupted into blood.

Initial bloodlust fell from the aggressors as they saw their offense deflected. They moved back to assess their standing, only to be pushed forward by those unaware of their disadvantage. As meat pushed to a grinder, their numbers fell to more experienced hands. And so this continued, until the hands pushing the meat were bloodied as well.

Arrows flew from the watch towers.

Overmatched from the front and pelted from behind, the assailing band sensed its demise. Led by no head, the horde knew no direction until now but forward. But each individual feared defeat, and so the mob fell back as one. Defenders pushed forward, archers let loose, and victory rang in the air. All was harmonious save for the cursings of the young pup to who this victory this was owed. She lunged forward, thrusting into any opposition she found. Despite her efforts, the group in retreat moved faster than she could slay, and she found herself outpaced.

As the horde disappeared into the forest, so to did the young girl. And behind her followed her guardian spirit.


Torva sprinted deep into the forest chasing after the retreating bandits. Despite their numbers being thinned, there were still a large number of them. She cut down a straggler or two as she ran, but the main group remained out of her reach. Zorael yelled for her to stop, but her battle trance deafened her to his cries.

“There’s only one of them chasing us!”

Her wish came true as her game stopped and turned back to her. She dove into the closest bandit, skewering him. She jumped back to free her lance, and stepped to slash at her next nearest target. He jumped back, and retreated to evade her attacks.

“Get that little bitch!”

The words rang as a curse rather than an order. The entirety of the group fell forward, many spitting similar words.

“Torva, get out of there. Now!”

Zorael’s yells nearly crushed the girl’s heart, but she continued her assault. Her face nearly dripped with fury.

Torva’s target fell behind an incoming wave of enemies. She darted back to avoid an attack, and shifted her body back forward to a swift thrust. She turned her body right to deliver a crushing strike against an unsuspecting target. She shifted back to avoid another blow, and snapped back into another attack. Her arm was struck by a club.

She jumped back to recompose herself. A wall of wild strikes came after her. She weaved away from them, and threw quick strikes where the wall was open. A few rang true.
As she struggled with the front, the sides moved to wrap around her.

She dashed to the sides to keep from being overwhelmed. Using her weapon’s reach to her advantage, she threw wide strikes to keep her enemies at bay. She thrust long at any enemies too close to encircling her.
A blade sliced into her side.

Neither pain nor fear registered. Blood gushed as she pushed. Her heart pumped fiercely, her lungs pushed arduously, and her muscles flared as fiercely as her soul. Her lance crashed against defending weapons as she pressed for the upper hand in the fight. She struck harder than her attackers could defend. Slices left trails of blood, and thrusts left groans of agony.
An axe cut into her thigh.

Her leg wounded, she found herself barely able to keep up her defenses. Attacks found themselves on her without her being able to dart away. She struggled to find a way to keep her advantage. She parried blows, while the line in front of her closed around her. She quickly found herself surrounded. She swung hard to keep her attackers from pressing, but still they advanced. She shifted to swift thrusts and cuts as they got closer.

Water crashed all around her in a sudden storm. A shield formed with some. The rest exploded into searing cold mist. Her shield melted, and formed a torrential river. Enemies stunned by the burst, she was clear for an escape. The river carried her away violently. A wall of jagged ice prevented anyone from following her.

"I said run!"

She gushed onto dry land hundreds of feet from the battle. She rapidly climbed to her feet. Finally seeing clearly, she limped away as swiftly as she could. She hurried to safety before her protection fell.

Smothered bushes and broken branches led her way. She hurried through foliage, barely gripping to her weapon. Branches parted, and the skies cleared. She caught her breath as she looked out into an open field. She walked forward with a gentle sway. A group grew between the towers rising before her. A muffled chatter rose, and gave way to a loud roar as she grew closer.
The village cheered at Torva’s return.[/spoiler-box]

Fifth Dream: A Study in Warfare, part 14 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3069607&postcount=65)

[stukasa]

[spoiler-box]And here I was starting to think she was invincible! :p I wonder if maybe she was starting to feel that way herself, since she has a supernatural friend hovering over her all the time. She may not have killed all the enemies but she protected the village, so all in all I guess it's still a victory.[/spoiler-box]

[CelestialBlade]

[spoiler-box]I really enjoyed the almost-personification of the forest at the beginning, as if turning me into a wandering passerby outside of the forest, listening to sounds coming from within. Always loved your ability to place me, the reader, anywhere on or around the scene that you please, and still fill me with visuals.

Zorael's involvement is interesting, too. It definitely paints him in a light that is neither good nor evil.[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

Fifth Dream: A Study in Warfare, part 14

[spoiler-box]Torva looked up at the village gates in front of her in confusion. What looked like the whole town was outside of them, jumping and cheering in joy. She wanted to yell out at them, to explain how the danger wasn’t over yet. But something tugged at her, preventing her from speaking or moving. It wasn’t her spiritual visitor, she knew his gestures well enough to know that. This feeling came from her.

‘They’re… happy to see me?’

Torva didn’t realize how much of a success the defense was until now. Not a single raider made it into the city. Not a single friendly life was lost. Besides some injury and equipment wear, no damage came to the city. She’s never been this successful at repelling an attack. And all of this because of measures she took which had nothing to do with the city’s safety.

It’s true that, without Torva, this city would have been sacked weeks ago. When she killed the bandits’ leaders, she delayed them, and crippled their organization. And with her planning, the bandits were unable to attack successfully from any part of the village. Yet she wasn’t thinking about the village when doing these things. She only wanted blood on her hands when she killed the leaders, and she only built the defenses to funnel the bandit force into her blade. But because she did these things, this village was completely unharmed.

A small group of younger villagers ran out from the crowd. Some were soldiers, some were civilians. Torva stood in confusion: her eyes wide, and her body locked. She didn’t know how to respond as they surrounded her, and hoisted her into the air. She then flailed helplessly as they paraded her to the village gates and cheered her name.

Zorael looked down with pride. The child whose life was devastated by a bandit raid has grown to successfully defend against one twice its size. Not only did she protect every life in the village, she also prevented the assaulting group from ever raiding again. With no leadership, half its original strength, and each member traumatized by a crippling loss, the group would disband. And with that, no more bandits were left.

“It took me a few years, but I held up my end of our deal. This is what you wanted, right?”

Torva was too distracted to hear Zorael. She was surrounded by a flock of newfound fans. Soldiers professed their awe at her acts in combat, maidens expressed their relief for their safety, and elders conveyed their gratitude for her efforts. All the while, Torva flustered for replies for each compliment she was given.

“You held up your end nicely. You were always ready to quell this bandit problem, and always did what I needed you to do. Even if you did it for your own reasons. And it was wonderful seeing this world from your eyes. So young and fresh, and full of passion…”

Torva got into the swing of things. She boasted about her performance in the woods while her wounds were being cleaned and dressed. She managed to grab one of the better looking boys and snake her arm around him as she bragged.

“I guess there’s no reason to stick around anymore. You’ve shown me everything I needed to see, and we’ve done everything I set out to do. This world should thrive for a while, and I’ve learned plenty.”

Torva thrived as the center of attention. The crowd around her hung at her every word, and her face beamed in joy at the attention. It was the happiest Zorael has ever seen her.

“So long, kid. It’s been fun.”

And with that, Zorael left Torva’s body. Her vision faded from his mind, as did her thoughts and feelings. He looked down on an unfamiliar landscape littered with strange creatures. He turned his sights to the heavens, and sought out unfamiliar stars.

“Pops?”

Torva stopped abruptly. She glanced around in confusion, as if searching for something. She felt a sudden feeling of loss as a pit opened up in her heart.

“Hey, are you there?”

She ignored her audience. She stood, and started calling out.

“Pops, say something. Anything. Tell me you’re there.”

Her posture lost confidence as time passed. Her pitch rose as she spoke. She began to panic.

“Dad, come on. Where are you? Don’t do this to me.”

‘Dad? She couldn’t…’

Zorael turned back to his previous host. Her voice raised in alarm.

“You can’t leave me. Not now. I need you!”

Zorael could feel her even after being disconnected. More than anything, he was flattered. He glowed warmly before reaching for her.

“I’ll miss you too, kid. But you can take care of yourself now. You’re strong enough to take on anything this world can throw at you.”

His thoughts didn’t reach her. She grew manic in fear.

“You said we would kill all the bandits, right? Come back, and we’ll get started on the next group. Anywhere you want to go, just point the way.”

Zorael dimmed slightly before reaching for her.

“We’ve got them all. You know it. There’s nothing left that’s a threat. You’re safe.”

Even though Torva couldn’t hear his response, she understood. Their contract was completed. This didn’t console her.

“I need you to guide me. You’ve always been there to point the way. I can’t do this by myself!”

“You’ll do fine. You found a place where you’re respected and loved. You’ll find your way here.”

She fell to her knees and held parts of her body in pain.

“It hurts…”

“You’ve been hurt far worse than this. You can’t change my mind with pity…?”

She wasn’t clutching her wounds. The areas she was grasping had long since healed. Those were the areas where she was injured long ago.

Zorael rushed forward and touched Torva’s mind. Images of her hometown flashed in her mind. Fire, corpses, blood. A raised weapon, intense pain, shattering realization.

Suddenly, Zorael understood. Torva’s bloodlust, her bitter personality, and her impulsive behavior. Everything she did was to protect herself. To make herself forget, and to soothe the pain. She was so consumed by her quest, because she needed a distraction. Now that she’s finished, she has nothing left to distract her.

Zorael rushed forward. Warmth spread through Torva’s chest. A brief image appeared in her mind of a winged serpent gently coiling around her heart. She felt the burden in her heart lifting, and being shared by a stronger presence.

She felt him say something to her. Something too abstract to consciously understand, but something she felt deeply. Something along the lines of “I’ll nurture you.”

She knelt forward and grasped her shoulders. She repeated, over and over, “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”

She felt a hand at her shoulder. She looked up, tears streaming down her eyes. Her expression betrayed an honest innocence she never allowed show.

“Hey… Are you alright?”

A face of worry looked back at her. She glanced around her, and saw all of her audience looked at her with the same face. She looked back at the one beside her before answering.

“Yeah… He’s back. I’m alright now.”

Understanding didn’t show in his face. She didn’t expect it to.

“So… Did you say something about a feast?”
[/spoiler-box]

Author's notes:
[spoiler-box]I originally meant for this story arc to be much shorter, and I've been spending my time filling up holes to make it less abstract. This was one of the few chapters I actually had planned from the beginning. But since then, I've made changes that added up to this being quite different than before. Once I actually sat down to write it, I realized I had no idea how it was going to play out. It's funny how that works. The chapter I had most clear in my mind was still pretty tough to write. Luckily, I was able to convey most of what I wanted to in the beginning.[/spoiler-box]

Fifth Dream: A Study in Warfare, Epilogue (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3071104&postcount=68)

[stukasa]

[spoiler-box]A touching and fitting end to Torva's story, I think. :) What Zorael said about her being able to handle anything made me wonder, though, just how much of her ability was her own and how much came from Zorael. Hopefully it won't matter now that all the bandits are dead.

That was a really good story arc that went through a lot of ups and downs, and I'm a little sad to see it end, but I'm also excited to see what lies ahead for Zorael and what kind of (mis)adventure he'll get into next.[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

[spoiler-box]A freaking long story arc, that's what it is. I'm glad I stuck through it, even if it was way off topic. It was a great way to practice first of all, and it should lead to at least a few ways to progress the story later on.

As for what's her abilities and what's his, well, all Zorael can do is his fancy magics and change emotional states. This can be useful for bringing up an adrenaline rush, or to think calmly when stressed. But Torva's the one swinging around the lance up there.
Of course, if Zorael does a full possession, that changes. But hopefully I won't use those too much.

Anyway, trivia time!

Torva is a mutation of the latin word Torvus, meaning savage.

Every single town name I came up with, I asked a friend to say some random series of words. I then mutated those words into some nonsense and used that, because it really doesn't matter. For instance, my first town was named after I put my friend on the spot and he replied "Give me a sec."

Torva's mother is alive and well, and misses her little girl very much. She has since met an attractive younger man after Torva left home.

Torva practices safe sex, and you should too.[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

Fifth Dream: A Study in Warfare, epilogue

[spoiler-box]An old woman lay on a comfortable bed in a well decorated room. Her once taut muscles have shrunk, leaving loose flesh hanging from her bones. Her once keen eyes lay glossy and unfocused. Her armor hung at the corner of the room; well worn and damaged, but functional. Steel plates hung off its protective leather, and strips of leather fell from its waist. Half a dozen knife sheaths littered its surface. A pike with a leaf shaped blade leaned against it.

“I haven’t been out of this room in a week…”

“Yeah. That’s probably bad.”

Torva lay in a room of a hotel in a fairly prosperous town. Having paid a favor to its owner years ago, he was more than willing to have her stay. This was back when she could still walk.

“So this is it then?”

“Yeah, probably.”

A cup of water sat on top of a dresser by her bed. Its temperature stayed constant and cool. Its container was a pure crystal. There was no point in keeping it there. Torva didn’t have the strength to move her mouth, let alone pick up a cup. It was left as a simple courtesy.

“What’s next then?”

“Honestly? In your case, I don’t know.”

She withdrew into herself. She didn’t have the strength to speak, or even think. She could only feel.

“You’re a spirit, right? Don’t you know about the other side?”

“I do. But it’s different for every person. And I’m not even sure your people have an afterlife.”

“Then… What was it like for you?”

“Well… It’s pretty hard to explain. But, if it’ll make you feel better…

At first, it wasn’t too much different than life. I stayed on earth for a while, and saw my family grieve my death. I slowly changed, though. I began to see the world more clearly. I could see past walls I didn’t know were there. And after a while, I became drawn to a light. In this light, I found another world. Comparing it to this world would be like comparing this world to a picture. In a picture, you’re stuck looking at the same thing. You cannot move, or change what is around you. If you can imagine the freedom you gain if you were to leave a picture and enter the world, this is what it felt like to enter this new world of light I found.

In this world, I began a journey. I wasn’t given any instruction or direction. I just knew where to go. Along the way, I had to make some choices. Each choice I made shaped my journey as I went. At the edge of this world was a cave. I entered it, and at its exit I found shining gates. There, I was given one more choice. There were two paths into where the gates lead. I could enter a grand gate, and join the nobility. Or I could enter the servant’s gate, and join the serving class. I didn’t really give it much thought. I went through the servant’s entrance. After entering, the world beyond became more clear than even the world before. When I entered, I became an angel. After that, I served in heaven. For a very long time.”

“That sounds pretty great…”

“Yeah, it is. Don’t fear death as an ending. It’s just a passage into a better life.”

“That’s a relief…”

A short silence befell the heart of the dying woman.

“So… what’s heaven? What’s an angel? I’ve never heard of these things before.”

“That’s right. I guess you couldn’t have. I’m surprised you could even pick those words out. Heaven is the kingdom of the creator of the universe. Angels are his servants. Most angels are hand crafted by the creator, so they’re pretty spectacular to look at. The few human angels are lifted up to their level, but most are made from scratch. That’s not to say they’re any better than other souls. Just… more pure.”

“So then, what do I have to do to become an angel?”

“Honestly, you would hate it. There’s not as much freedom in the job as you seem to enjoy. It’s better to just go through purgatory being honest with yourself. You’ll be most happy wherever you end up that way.”

“I have nothing to fear, then?”

“Nothing but death.”

…

“Hey… could you do me a favor? I… kind of miss my hometown. I… I’d like to be buried there. If it’s not too much trouble…”

“Not a problem.”

Ease filled Torva’s body. Fear welling up inside her dissipated, and a small smile curled onto her lips.

“It’s not going to be easy, and it will look rather awkward. But I can do it. When do you want to leave?”

…

“Torva?”

…

He searched her body for her. She still had a light heartbeat, and she breathed shallow breaths. Her mind was still active. But he couldn’t find anything in her body but flesh and bone.

“I guess right now, then.”

He left her body as well. What few signals it was sending to him faded. He reached out, looking for whatever water he could find. After minutes of collecting, he gathered them into a single orb. He brought it into the room, and consumed Torva’s body. Ice formed around her body to support it. The water and ice stretched around her, covering the body from head to toe.

Zorael took a moment to reflect on it. An aged body, suspended in clear water, laying in a crystal coffin. He gathered her belongings to be sent alongside her. All was sent out the window, and traveled through the air to her home.


Gemisek grew quiet as the sun fell. Families gathered together to return home. Light crowds traversed the streets. Some went a few steps out of their way to pass by an aged statue. The statue depicted a powerful female figure standing triumphantly, and facing the horizon. She wore a battle dress, and proudly lifted her lance. Onlookers admired the statue, raised to pay homage to a hero born in this humble town. Those who stopped to admire the statue that night saw an object fall gently from the sky. At first a shapeless mass, the object melted. Items contained in it fell neatly onto the floor, but a body stayed suspended off the ground by a crystal bed on fragile legs. The melted water elongated into a serpentine figure, which wrapped around the bed. It grew wings, which extended over the body as a cover. A soft blue light shone in its eyes, which looked down on the body.

Time passed, and a crowd grew. Tired families were drawn from their household to view the object. It wasn’t long before they recognized it.

“That’s the same dress and spear as the statue!”

“That’s the winged serpent!”

“It’s Torva the hero!”

The crowd roared in excitement. Steam lifted off her coffin. Her serpent shrunk, and her bed lowered. The crowd collected the body and its belongings as Zorael watched. He stayed in the village until she was buried. Afterwards, he briefly searched the planet for signs of Torva’s soul. Finding no trace, he instead turned his gaze towards the heavens.

“It’s been a while…”[/spoiler-box]

Author's notes:
[spoiler-box]lol psych I killed her off. Anyway, it's time for me to get back on track.[/spoiler-box]

Sixth Dream: Another Day's End (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3071499&postcount=69)

[Zorafim]

Sixth Dream: Another Day's End

[spoiler-box]“Shout out in joy and praise, for we have been freed from death!”

“It’s really not that big of a deal…”

A young man stood on a stage in the middle of a roaring crowd. He had a thin frame, yet tone muscles rippled across his body. His chest and legs were bare, save for vibrant dyes coating his body. Despite his nakedness, he was ornately dressed. Feathers and pelts adorned his head and shoulders. Teeth and bones hung from his neck, wrists, and ankles. His accessories swayed and sang with his movements, making each one more pronounced.

“On the brink of death, we called out in despair to the heavens! We cried to our gods, and our prayers were answered!”

“I just thought I’d help out a bit, is all.”

His movements were grand. He moved like a dancer, exaggerating his motions for everyone to clearly see. He took great steps as he moved, and he punctuated his words with his hands. He looked out into the roaring audience around him, engaging everyone around him.

“He came down from the sky, from his glorious home, and graced our lowly lands with his light! In his kindness, he traveled an untold distance!”

“Really, I was just passing by…”

Surrounding them were the most important buildings in the city. Large stone buildings rose from the ground, each with impressive statues and ornaments. Important figures viewed the spectacle before them from the buildings’ balconies and roofs, while the common man was stuck huddled in a tight crowd. Each roared in excitement at the performer’s words.

“Even now, he is with us! Looking down at us, relishing in our praise! Let your voices be heard! Shout out to our savior!”

“No really, there’s no need-“

“In his modesty, he hides from us. Call out to him! Beg for his presence!”

“No, I couldn’t. You’re making such a-“

“Call out to him! Shout out the name of our savior! Cry for Zorafim our protector!”

“Ah… it’s pronounced-“

“Come, mighty Zorafim! Allow us to bask in your radiance!”

“…Well, if you insist!”

With no warning, mighty spouts of water erupted from either side of the dancer, and coiled upwards around each other into the heavens. The crowd was stunned into silence, looking on in wonder and awe. The dancer stood with complete confidence, extending his hands up to the spouts on his sides, and raising his head in triumph. Jets shot out from the spouts into the center of the coils, drawing in the air the shape of a winged serpent; coiling in on itself into a ball. With a sudden motion, the serpent opened its wings, and dispelled the water spouts. The remaining water fell down onto the crowd in a light haze. A light rainbow formed just below the serpent’s form.

“Behold Zorafim the mighty! Behold the life giver, the mountain mover, the one who looks down on us and smiles! You have moved him with your praise! Bask in his tears, and rejoice in his presence!”

The crowd resumed their cheers at these words. Their hands flailed in the air like waves on an ocean. The dancer held his pose, with his legs and arms spread wide, drawing extra attention instead to the scene above him. The serpent hung there for a moment, allowing the crowd to express their excitement.

Once the cries died down, the serpent moved. In a single elegant motion, it shot into the air in a flowing movement. In its absence, the performer continued his act.

“And so he has left us! Return to the lives so graciously gifted to you, and keep the memory of Zorafim’s great image in your hearts!”

With the spectacle over, the crowds dispersed. The dancer stayed on his stage, masking his relief at not messing up his performance. His stature relaxed, and he raised his head up to where the serpent left.

“Goodbye, great spirit. It has been an honor hosting you.”

“Likewise. Thank you for the celebration. I really enjoyed it.”

“I am glad.”

Zorael left the performer’s body. His senses banished from his mind. He turned his gaze up to the heavens, and searched.

“Well, that was fun.”[/spoiler-box]

Author's Notes:
[spoiler-box]Qoxolg paint it!

It feels weird not writing down "Fifth Dream". It also feels weird spending more than half my story on one dream, and then spend so few words on another one. [/spoiler-box]

Seventh Dream: Troubled Meditation (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3073824&postcount=72)

[stukasa]

Fifth Dream: Oh, I wasn't expecting an epilogue. Looking back, I guess you did one for your Third Dream as well. It was a moving and sad ending, but at the same time kind of hopeful. I believe the reader (that's me!) would like to think Torva ended up in heaven too, despite being a weird being from another planet.

Sixth Dream: I laughed at how the crowds were worshiping and cheering "Zorafim the mighty" (which is my title already, by the way! *points to user title*). Zorael really likes water for some reason, and from what I know, you do too. It was a fairly random chapter but an interesting one. We didn't get much back story on it but I guess it takes place on some random planet with some random peoples, somewhere between Torva's planet and earth?

[Zorafim]

I believe the reader (that's me!) would like to think Torva ended up in heaven too, despite being a weird being from another planet.

I may have her cameo later on. I'm honestly not sure what to do with this end. I did want to keep it open ended to open the possibility of other afterlives, to allow this to mesh in with other stories better. Ones with ghosts, or reincarnation, or the like.


Sixth Dream: I laughed at how the crowds were worshiping and cheering "Zorafim the mighty" (which is my title already, by the way! *points to user title*).

Oh hey, look at that. I just tried to get into the minds of an advanced tribal nation. They do that alot with their gods, right?


Zorael really likes water for some reason, and from what I know, you do too.

This was what the fourth dream was for. He could manipulate things other than water. But it would take a huge amount of practice to do anything practical with them.


It was a fairly random chapter but an interesting one. We didn't get much back story on it but I guess it takes place on some random planet with some random peoples, somewhere between Torva's planet and earth?


Zorael floated along the surface of the planet, studying its intricacies. He marveled at its deep canyons and steep mountains, and was always enraptured by its exotic color. This was a random planet, circling some random star, in the middle of nowhere. He came here by pure chance, the same way he’s been drawn to countless other planets. He studied the planet’s past, and saw its future. The same story as every other planet, but twisted to its own style.

Same story, every time. The reason there wasn't any backstory was because I didn't really have one. It was more important for me to show the celebration, instead of what was being celebrated.

[Zorafim]

Seventh Dream: Troubled Meditation

[spoiler-box]“Bored…”

Darkness stretched an eternity in every direction, breaking only for faint lights glimmering in the distance. Enshrouded in this darkness lay a body of water, laying deeper and stretching wider than any mortal could fathom.

“No, not bored. Boredom can be cured through activity. This is something else.”

Guided by an unseen hand, the water’s surface danced for an empty audience. Various scenes played out all at once, all across this surface. A serpent’s spine arced in waves, while fish jumped out in unison. Massive whales crashed, while dolphins skittled along on their tales. Massive tentacles rose and coiled along a sinking ship, pulling it down into the depths. All these scenes played out among countless others, played out by vague shapes of water dancing on the fingertips of an idle spirit.

“Lonely. It’s been a while, but I think I feel… lonely.”

Zorael floated just above the surface of his favorite nebula. He absentmindedly played with the surface, as a bored woman would play with her hair. His spirit dimmed with a dull light, as he meditated.

“I should probably just bind with another spirit. It takes years before they can feel me, but it’s better than waiting around… Except when they die right as they notice me. Then it’s exactly the same, and I’ll have wasted all that effort. Not to mention how long it would take me to find a planet with suitable life, and finding something which would be interesting to bind to…

I could go back to a planet I’ve already visited. There’s sure to be plenty of hosts I skipped over. But, I have already seen what will happen on those planets. That’s hardly interesting… I could mess with their history, I suppose. But I don’t want to have to clean up after myself if I make a mistake…”

Zorael dimmed to a cold blue. He cast an uninterested eye to the water’s surface. A crab skittered along the surface, stopping at random intervals. A sea creature would occasionally jump over it as it moved. It spotted a random rock shaped object. It ran over to it, at full speed. It ran into a hole on its side, hiding its full body in its safety. After a few moment, it came back out, and hefted the rock on its back. It continued its skitter along the surface.

“Maybe it’s time to go back home. I’ve already done everything I set out to do. I’ve seen everything out there. Black holes, super novas, planets made of every material. And life of every shape and size. This universe has given me all it has to offer. There’s not much left but to go back to the next life…

…and do what? Serve meals, deliver messages, and sing for the amusement of others? I can’t go back to that. Not after all this.

I could go back as a saint, I suppose. Rejoin my family. Dance, sing, eat, drink… No, too idle. I couldn’t live like that. I need to see new things. Learn. Be challenged… But how? Doing what? Everything left out there is simply a random variation of what I’ve already seen.”

Zorael darted his gaze across the water’s surface. A sea serpent. A giant squid. Fish of colossal size. Fins billowing with the ocean current, gliding like pieces of cloth in the wind. He turned his attention to new forms. Massive legs crashing into the ground. Thin legs darting across the ground in elegant strides. Wings gliding gracefully through the air. Zorael saw all this, and brightened to a dull yellow.

“That’s always been what I loved the most. Life, in all shapes and sizes. I used to be infatuated with each creature I saw. They all just blend together now, though. Why can’t they be as fascinating as this? Powerful forms, graceful dancers… I would never get bored if these greeted me at every corner. Instead, all I have are frail sinners living only to die… Does nothing in this universe live forever?”

He sat for a moment, on the rolling waves. Creatures of all shapes spiraled around him. He paid them no mind.

“Why can’t they exist? Given the right environment, creatures like this could not only live, but thrive. Immortal creatures, more powerful than any other, and as intelligent as any soul. It can be done. They just need the right hands guiding their growth.”

Zorael brightened to a vibrant orange. The scene around him stopped abruptly, causing massive bodies of water to crash together.

“If I can’t find anything I like, I’ll just make it myself.“

A massive wave crashed over to Zorael’s resting place. Zorael blinked away as it overtook him. The surface raged for a time, before resting to the serene state it was in before he arrived.[/spoiler-box]

Eighth Dream: Questionable Morality (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3079083&postcount=78)

[stukasa]

[spoiler-box]I think that's the biggest problem with living forever, the boredom. Eventually you'd run out of things to do and then naturally you'd turn to more and more extreme solutions to stay entertained.

Also, am I the only one who fears that God may not be too pleased if Zorael starts creating new super-beings on his own? ^^; I have some theories about those beings but I'd rather wait and be surprised~

It was another intermediary chapter this time, but that isn't a bad thing. It was interestingly written and I'm looking forward to seeing what Zorael decides to do next time! :)[/spoiler-box]

[CelestialBlade]

[spoiler-box]Like Stu said, I think it's interesting to consider the mental challenges of immortality. The boredom is certainly there, but what happens when there's nothing new to learn? Nothing more to strive for? Immortality would become a prison, an increasingly more desperate search to find a pursuit that justifies your existence. I like being able to look into those struggles from Zorael's perspective, and his latest endeavor should prove to be most interesting. Perhaps it's a bit of power abuse on his part, but he's a fun character and this is right up his alley. Looking forward to more as always :)[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

I'm glad my first real chapter in a while got such a warm reception. I'll try not to disappoint too much going forward.

[Sacrificial]

[SPOILER-BOX]Seems like someone got mad.[/SPOILER-BOX]

[o0Kais0o]

[SPOILER-BOX]Zorael is going to try his hand at creation... This should be interesting, especially when his boss finds out. I'm really looking forward to seeing where you take this.[/SPOILER-BOX]

[Zorafim]

Eighth Dream: Questionable Morality

[spoiler-box]Billions of cold souls brightened as they entered a site of indescribable beauty. An endless river of souls streamed up from the cold, empty space below to bask in the soothing warmth of this place. Many shouted with joy, many broke down in tears, and many still froze in awe. Great was the majesty of this place, and greater still was the significance of their arrival. Each soul would spend the rest of their existence in a boundless paradise, and the pleasure they would bask in was only just starting to seep into them.

Zorael stepped through the darkness to join the countless souls in front of him. He took a moment to allow the light seeping out of heaven to rejuvenate his soul. It had been far too long since his last visit, and his light has long since run out. After a moment of meditation, he looked out warmly to the souls before him. He always enjoyed this sight. Countless people finding joy, as if they’ve been lost in despair for their whole lives. Out of all the beauties in heaven, this one somehow struck him deeply.

Zorael walked towards the gates of heaven, casting warm glances at particularly emotional moments. His color grew brighter as he walked, both from the light shining down on him, and from the joy surrounding him. He took a few moments to admire heaven’s gates, looking up at their otherworldly shape. He heard shouts of joy and songs of praise coming from beyond the gates. He took a moment to steel himself, before he stepped through.

“Zorael, welcome home!”

“We’ve longed to see your face again for all of these years! Come, rest with us.”

“Do you have any new stories? I want to hear!”

Zorael’s gaze lowered, and his color went flush. These three were just a small collection of the voices singing out. Each of the millions of souls passing through the gates of heaven were sung to, all at once. Each voice was heard clearly, and each blended together to form new harmonies. The souls being sung to each responded in different ways. Some raised their heads in pride, and some lowered them in modesty. Zorael was one of the latter.

“Yeah bro, you the man! Show these fools who’s boss!”

‘Were those last ones… Frat boys?’ He looked over to the voices. Sure enough, a group of guys were yelling and chanting his name. ’What?! We’re souls! We don’t have men up here!’

Zorael made it through the Song, still flushing a reddish color. The road widened into multiple paths, leading into different layers of heaven. Looking out off a cliff, one could see a few of them from heaven’s entrance. In one, a clear lake lay in the middle of an expansive meadow. In another, colorful mountains gently rolled across the horizon. In yet another, luxurious homes lined a spacious city, lined with streets of gold and pillars of marble. And in another still, a forest filled with large trees was covered by a gentle snowfall. Zorael reminisced on the time he spent in each of these layers, before setting eyes on a set of stairs. With no support, they ascended in lovely, nonsensical patterns. They rose to the center of the heavens, where a brilliant light shone down on everything. Zorael walked toward these stairs, and walked along them.

As he rose, he felt the souls around him. Due to his isolation, he wasn’t as in tune with feeling other spirits as he once was. But up here, this feeling was overwhelming. Emotions and thoughts washed over him, each as clear as if they were his own. Differing opinions, viewpoints, and specializations mixed together. Each spirit came together, and together everyone understood all.

Zorael came to the top of the steps, and stood in front of the throne of God. All of the heavens and its inhabitants were visible from up here. Weaving in and out of the throne room were angels, receiving orders and giving reports. God attended to each of his servants at once, giving each his full attention even as he attended to countless other tasks. His eyes turned expectantly toward Zorael, inviting him forward.

“Welcome home, my son. What is it you wish to discuss?”

Zorael froze in awe, looking up at God in wonder. Even after seeing countless marvels throughout the universe, still nothing compared to this sight. All of his senses were overcome with overwhelming beauty. And even if he were blind to this beauty, his soul itself was crushed with an overpowering joy which God radiated. It was as if everything good in life rushed at him all at once, washing away every negative emotion which could possibly exist.

God shone down gracefully, patiently awaiting a response. In time, Zorael braved an answer.

“Father, I have come for your blessing. I have seen your universe, and it is glorious. There are such beautiful arrangements of colors, such exotic reactions of objects. I’ve seen things I didn’t even know could possibly exist! Lovely nebulae, powerful novas, wide assortments of planets… It is incredible.

What captivated me most was the life I saw scattered along various planets. They were as varied as the planets themselves. Some as small as atoms, some as giant as moons. Some calm and graceful, some vicious and swift. All of them, beautiful. So much so, I can’t get enough of them.

And so, with your blessing, I would like to try making some myself.”

As he spoke, God’s aura darkened towards him. Once joyful, it dimmed to a worried light.
“You do not know what you ask.”

“My lord?”

Zorael looked up expectantly at God. For the first time, worry showed in his aura. God spoke again.

“Exploration was a simple request to grant. Little harm could come from a single soul traversing the universe. And even though you caused greater change than I originally realized, most of these changes were caused through wise actions, and produced much good.

Yet what you now ask for could have grave, reaching consequences. Even from the most well meaning of actions. Life is exceptionally difficult to control. I have struggled for millennia to guide humanity down the righteous path. How can you expect to fair any better?”

Zorael was taken aback by this response. He came here as a mere formality, and had not expected any trouble. Yet his god now warns him of his actions. Did he offend him? Are his actions more harmful than he realized? As these worried swam through his head, one clear thought motivated him to move forward.
‘He did not outright deny me.’

And so, Zorael continued.

“I do not mean to create an entire planet. There is no way I could handle an entire civilization. I saw in my travels that even guiding a small tribe was not always possible. All that I wish is to create a sparse number of lifeforms. A handful at a time. Something to call my own.”

Zorael looked up expectantly at God, hoping he react positively to his words. His worried aura calmed, yet he did not radiate the same powerful joy he did before.

“Even a handful of creations can cause untold devastation if left unchecked. Are you confident you can control what you make, even should the worst happen?”

Zorael replied with fair confidence: “I am certain I can contain even my worst mistakes.”

God pondered for a while. His aura changed through various hues before he finished. Finally, he gave his answer.

“This is a grave request you make. It could undo much I have worked hard to create. Yet, you have served me faithfully, and you have shown wisdom in your actions. I will grant your request, and bless your endeavors.

Yet be warned. You tread a dangerous path. If you continue to show wisdom in your actions, you may create beautiful additions to my universe. But if you do not walk with care, you may create great harm to others, and to yourself.”

Zorael replied, with a cautious joy in his voice: “Thank you, my father. You will not regret your decision.”

He paused for a moment, before continuing.

“Since you’ve already done all this before, do you have any tips I could use to get started?”

“It’s much more difficult than it seems. Work patiently, and with care, and it is possible that you may make some progress.”

“Erm… I’ll keep that in mind.”

Both God and Zorael brightened toward each other as a farewell. God continued attending to the rest of his angels, as Zorael turned and left. He walked through all the heavens, and made his way to their gates. And he passed through, ready to start his new journey.[/spoiler-box]

Author's Notes:
[spoiler-box]This one was hard for me to do. First of all, I'm busy on december. It feels like I've been going nonstop since dead day. More than that, the chapter itself was hard. Each time I go through heaven, I want to reveal more and more of it. But it's hard to come up with creative ways to express something which a mortal mind cannot understand. Conversations with God are always hard for me, too. How do you write dialogue for an all knowing entity?

I sat on this chapter for quite a while. There were some days where I could only write a paragraph before becoming overwhelmed. Maybe because of the content, maybe because of my messed up sleep. But here it is, one week late.

I think my next chapters should be more regular. I don't have to come up with really creative stuff. Most of it is pretty much laid out for me for a while. Maybe I'll create a boom of updates?[/spoiler-box]

Ninth Dream: Preperations (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3080749&postcount=81)

[stukasa]

[spoiler-box]I always enjoy the chapters in heaven, so that means you were successful even though it took a bit more time and effort. I know what you mean though, there have been parts in my story that were very slow-going to write. In those situations I usually skip it and come back to it later, but maybe you prefer to write in a more linear fashion?

I liked how Zorael didn't give up when God expressed concern. It struck me as more of a child's mentality: "Well, dad didn't specifically say 'NO'..." :lol: It would've been interesting if God forbade him and he'd tried to go behind God's back and do it anyway, but how would you go behind God's back in the first place?

Next time: Zorael tries creating life forms, realizes he should've taken God's warning more seriously. :p[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

[spoiler-box]I really don't know what I would do if God said no. That's basically the only reason why he didn't. It probably wouldn't have been to much of a stretch for Zorael to do it anyway, all things considered. But I wanted to keep their relationship rather close. Otherwise I would have to write more demons in, and I'm not quite ready for that yet.

I figured heaven would come out good. I know that the more I struggle to get what I want, the better it comes out. I've noticed this mostly in my songs. I struggle and struggle, and am never satisfied with what I have. Then when I listen to it with a non-critical ear, I love what I hear. I can't quite enjoy my stories like I enjoy my songs, but I hope that's what happened here. Unfortunately, I don't plan on going back for a while. I've written the story's rules such that Zorael has to visit occasionally, so I may use that as an excuse to go back. But hopefully, you won't miss it with what I have planned.

I probably should skip chapters, and work on multiple at a time. That's supposed to be the best way. But I can't stand working on multiple things at once. I'm like that with everything. I study for one subject at once, I play one game at once, and I can't even work on a chapter and a song at the same time. That's another reason I was so late with this one. I got three commissions this month, plus the jam piece. It's been taking its toll, I'll have to admit. I get super motivated on writing the next chapter, while this one is still in the works. I just use that as motivation to keep chugging along.

And yes, the next few chapters should be fairly stressful for our hero. Probably not for the reasons you think, though.[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

Ninth Dream: Preperations
[spoiler-box]An endless ocean floated in an empty void, devoid of any impurities which could pollute it. Its surface rippled under its own weight, lifting waves taller than planets. This surface stretched an eternity in every direction, bubbling as a shapeless mass. It stood there, untouched for nearly as long as the universe existed.

Zorael appeared above the shapeless orb. He came to think of this place as his resting place after all his visits. Yet his normally relaxed aura brightened in a tense excitement as he gazed down at his usual resting spot. He usually came here to relax between his travels. But this time, he came here to think. He shut his gaze, and meditated on his future actions.

“I mean to create lifeforms. Yet now I must also minimize their impact on surrounding areas. Should I make a mistake, what’s my worst case scenario?

At worst, I could create a race of super creatures, which populate quickly and overwhelm their opposition. I could create giant monsters which could easily destroy any object. I could create plagues, which eat anything they touch. Anything else?

…no. From what I’ve seen, that’s the worst of it. How would I limit any damage caused in these cases?

The easiest way to prevent my creatures from attacking anything is to prevent them from finding anything to destroy. If they’re stuck on a planet, it’s unlikely they could spread to other planets. But unlikely is still too likely. I need them to be unable to spread even if they leave their home planet. So… their home planet must be sufficiently far away from anything that they die before reaching anything.
Simple enough. Build a home world so far away, that nothing can reach it, and nothing can escape it. Any problems with this?

…Transporting materials. I’ll need items to create and sustain life out of items which I can’t easily find nearby. Any solutions?

…teleportation. I’m still not good at it, but I may be able to get good enough to find some scraps and take them home. Any other problems? …none that I can think of, so far. Keep this in mind, and move on.

If my creatures manage to reach another planet, the damage they do needs to be minimized. The easiest solution would be… create weak life forms. An unacceptable solution; moving on.

Damage caused by a single life form is not terribly damaging. I may be able to relocate any stray life in time to minimize damage, if it’s only a single one. And if I never learn about it, maybe the damage won’t be too great. So another way to limit damage is to make sure only a sparse number of my creatures exits its planet at once. To assure this…

Sterility. Make nothing which can reproduce. Any problems with this? …none with larger creatures. I’ll make those by hand. Yet those meant to exist in a swarm would be difficult to maintain this way. I could make sure those are harmless, but then… mutations could disrupt that.

Then, no swarming creatures, and keep everything sterile.”


Zorael gazed at the nebula before him. He held this stare for a long while, going over past experiences and likely outcomes. Finally, he lifted his gaze, and finalized his thoughts.

“Create a home far removed from any other objects. Create nothing which can breed. And… learn to teleport…”

His sight returned to the endless ocean below him.

“Learn to teleport... may as well get started.”

Zorael’s gaze widened, showing him the universe before him. He searched out corners of galaxies with no nearby planets. Some place nothing could stumble across them, and where nothing could escape. His gaze shifted from corner to corner, galaxy to galaxy, until he found a place he liked. He jumped, arriving at that place in an instant, and looked around.

It was a remote location, far from any civilizations he knew of. The closest solid mass would take a millennium to reach with the best technologies he’s found. And yet, the sky was littered with activity.

A large galaxy hung in the sky, clearly visible despite its distance. Several nebulae also hung in the sky, seemingly close but impossible to reach. A gas giant loomed close by, flung from her parent star eons ago, and halted to a crawl at this spot. Finding an empty corner was easy. But finding one with this view was a stroke of luck.

Zorael searched for other options. But this was the best site he found. Satisfied with the location, he needed only a mass to start his work on. He turned his gaze back on the water nebula.

“Well, it’s served me well so far…”

He closed his sight, and concentrated on two points in space. A hole appeared, connecting them. One point lay above the water nebula. The other, at his current site. The hole widened to no more than a millimeter. He pulled, easily dragging forward a torrent of water. But only drops at a time made it through the hole. His concentration broke, stopping the trickle coming through at his end.

He caught his breath, watching droplets float around him. He collected them into a modest drop of water, then set his sights back on the water nebula. He reopened the hole, smaller than before, and pulled again. Again, only a small drop made it through before his concentration broke again.

He collected the water. He linked the two points. He pulled again.[/spoiler-box]

Author's notes:
[spoiler-box]I'm going to have smaller updates like this one. I don't want to bore the reader with too much unnecessary information, but I do want to give a sense of time elapsed. Hopefully, smaller updates means quicker updates.[/spoiler-box]

Tenth Dream: Inadequate Skillset, part 1 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3081274&postcount=84)

[stukasa]

[spoiler-box]I get the sense that Zorael's thought process mirrored your own when you were deciding what kind of lifeforms he should create. I have to wonder, though, if these new lifeforms won't resent Zorael (if they even know he exists) for putting them in a remote corner of the universe--and oh yeah, they're all sterile. They might think, "Our creator must not trust us very much!"

Anyway, I enjoy the way you're setting it up step by step, putting a lot of thought and care into the details, rather than just making a sweeping statement that he created the lifeforms and now we're moving on with the story. So I have no problem with shorter but more frequent updates. :)

By the way, pulling the water through a drop at a time seems like it'll take *forever*. >.> But I guess he's got forever, doesn't he?[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

[spoiler-box]380 billion years, going at a rate of 1 drop per minute. Luckily, he got better at it, so it didn't take him quite that long. Which is good, because that's about a hundred million times his current age. I don't want to age him too much in between these chapters, even if quite a bit of time does pass.
Also, that's about 38 times the age of the universe. And I believe about 20 times the expected lifespan of the universe.

I'm actually trying to focus on details instead of sweeping as much as I can. It's pretty tough for me, I've noticed. I did that a lot in the earlier chapters, and I didn't like it. But mainly, when I reread my stuff, I think "Wait, why did that happen? What happened over here? Stop skimming through stuff!" Mainly though, I would like the time spent reading and waiting to somewhat reflect time spent in the story. If this action is supposed to take a huge amount of time, I want the reader to somewhat wade through what's happening and get a sense of drag.

I'm likely to go over the thought processes of Zorael's lifeforms in the future. I want to keep you guessing, so I won't go into much detail. I'm glad to hear the general sense of what's expected, though. It's useful for keeping me focused on the right details.[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

Tenth Dream: Inadequate Skillset, part 1

[spoiler-box]“Confirm the connectivity of the structural proteins…”

A massive orb of water hung in silent suspension, accompanied in the heavens only by images of distant celestial bodies. Despite its large size, its surface was as still as glass. Any ripple had long since been calmed, such that there was no distortion visible on it. The waters themselves were pure, entirely cleaned of any impurities they may have had long ago. This orb had the look of a flawless glass sphere, with only one point of interest apparent.

“Reconnect the protective membrane…”

Floating calmly on the surface of this planet was a small chunk of ice, hollowed to make an empty room. Contrasting with the clear waters around it, this ice was cloudy and distorted. Hastily made and constantly modified, little thought was put into the quality of the material. It was a heavily opaque white, with edges rough enough to cut a hand.

“Supply a trace amount of energy to start metabolic processes…”

This room was decorated by a single piece of furniture. A table rose from the center of the room, sitting on a thick central leg and spreading to take a modest amount of space. Beyond that, two other points of interest lay in the room. In two separate corners of the room were two separate piles. One was a shapeless mass of pink, dried and rough. The other was a soggy pile of an indecipherable color, thick and wet enough to wonder if it was a solid or a liquid.

“It’s alive! It finally worked!”

A barely functioning piece of life lay on the table, almost unable to perform the most basic chemical reactions required to sustain its form, suspended in a drop of water. Its structure was beyond simple, and it could not perform functions of a microbe one hundredth its size. Its form was awkward, its processes were inefficient, and its only apparent function was to exist and take up space. Yet, by the most basic definition of the word, it lived.

“Wait. Wait, wait wait wait nonononono!”

But it didn’t live for long. Barely a minute past its creation, the tiny being ceased all functions.

“At least I’m on the right track…”

Zorael lifted the droplet of water and sent it into the soggy pile, carrying along the corpse of the microbe with it. He melted a fog off the walls of his workshop, bound it to a trace amount of the pink material in the corner, and floated the mixture onto his table.

The angel set back to work, gently and slowly weaving together his materials.[/spoiler-box]

Author's Notes

[spoiler-box]Yay tiny updates![/spoiler-box]

Tenth Dream: Inadequate Skillset, part 2 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3081602&postcount=88)

[stukasa]

[spoiler-box]That was sad when the tiny life form that had only been alive for a few seconds died. :( Somehow my confidence in Zorael's life-creating abilities is a bit shaken. He'll improve with time, I assume.

I'm either spot on or way off when I assume this will all eventually have something to do with Levia, since this story *is* called "Daydreams of an angel and a fish," and we are as of yet without our titular fish. You don't have to answer that rhetorical statement, I don't want spoilarz. I just wanted to tell you my expectation/assumption/insight/wacky theory.

About what you said regarding details, I agree that it's good to slow down and focus on details sometimes. I wish I could afford that luxury in my own story, but I'm often trying to cram a LOT of story into four chapters so the pacing gets wonky once in a while, and other times I can't write nearly enough about certain things. Which is why, if and when I ever write a sequel, I'm planning to do it more like Chelsea, with one long story rather than the episodic format I used. That way I won't have to worry about how much I have to cram into the current chapter I'm writing. Speaking of which, I'd better get back to it~[/spoiler-box]

[CelestialBlade]

[spoiler-box]I really liked the detailing of the life-creation process, that was pretty awesome and I love insights like those. I'm having fun with these smaller, detail-laden updates and it's impressive that you can juggle so many different paces within a single story as well as you are. In a single continuous story like mine, that's not really an option, so it's cool that you have that kind of freedom.

And I have a feeling I know where Levia comes into play here, but well, I do know previous Levia stories having known you for a long time now :P[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

[spoiler-box]I wouldn't be worried about poor Gimmy. He was just a microbe. I'm not sure how clear I made it that Zorael's having a tough time, but it's called Inadequate Skillset for a reason. It's taken him quite a while just to get a microbe living. Though... are they even alive? I freely admit that my microbiology is very much lacking, so I tried not to be too detailed.

This is a theme I try to emphasize with Zorael. He starts off really sucking at something, but slowly puts effort into it to become more skilled at it. So far, this has only paid off with the hydromancy. His teleportation is also much better than when he started, but still needs quite a bit of work. His possession hasn't quite gotten much better, though.

And, I appreciate the compliments. It's difficult for me to judge my own writing, so hearing positive feedback is encouraging.

I want to comment on more, but, spoilers.[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

Tenth Dream: Inadequate Skillset, part 2

[spoiler-box]Tiny droplets of water soaked with a sickly pink substance gently weaved around the body of a tiny creature. Large chunks of it were missing, and it betrayed no movement. Each drop of water was placed on its body in a precise motion, causing the items in the water to bind to the creature as the water was evaporated away. The rest of its body was formed, as piece by tiny piece was slowly added on. Its body lengthened as dull nerve and loose flesh was formed into a tube. Finally, the weaving stopped as the tube of flesh ended in a tiny point.

Zorael’s workshop has suffered very little change in the centuries since its formation. The only real movements are the flow of materials between the two piles in the corner, and the scraping and reforming of ice on the walls. Pressure, time, and idle hands have crystallized the once coarse walls to give a better view of the outside waters. The table in the middle, while structurally the same, has suffered minor variances as well. Decorative patterns have been added and subtracted over the years, so that it never quite looks the same. Yet, what has changed the most is the shape of the insignificantly tiny organisms laying on this table.

The struggle to create a single cell was an arduous one. Tougher still was the jump to two cells. The workload has lifted since then, but progress is still slow. Each living thing was created with the sole purpose of testing more complicated and efficient designs. On the table, waiting for life, was the latest attempt; a small worm composed of little more than muscle, nerve, and flesh.

Zorael dripped a few drops of water onto the body to submerge it. He then took two small globules of water, and strained to line them on their electric poles. He set the opposite sides of the poles on opposing sides of the submerged worm. A spark of current ran through the puddle, easing the stress Zorael put on it. Reacting to that spark, the worm began wiggling aimlessly.

Relief fell over Zorael as he saw the motions of life. He eased control of the water around him, and gazed at his creation. He studied it for imperfections and flaws called about by imperfect designs. Yet, everything seemed to work as he intended. He fell back as he relaxed his mind, enjoying not having to control so many moving parts. Enjoying his rest, he looked down on his latest creation in pride. As he always did after finishing a project, he pondered ways to improve his design. Thinking up ideas, one odd one struck him.

Zorael reached forward, and touched the creature. Attempting to link with it, he saw into its mind.

An ocean of mucky water stretched indefinitely in every direction. Emptiness and shadow existed everywhere. The more the creature struggled, the further the shadow fled. And so, the creature moved, in order to know what was around it.

In the corner of its sphere of sight, the creature felt a shape approach. The creature didn’t react. It just struggled, keeping its sphere of sight open. The shape came, and consumed the creature. The creature just struggled, keeping its sphere of sight open.


Zorael saw through what few senses the worm had. Unable to see, and barely able to feel, all he could do was try to feel the water around him with its dull nerves. He had to guide the body with what his soul saw just to orient himself. Yet, the worm would not respond to his calls, and would only wiggle around randomly.

After minutes of this, Zorael was expelled from the body. The wiggling slowed to a stop, and the current keeping the nerves active ran dry. Zorael gave an internal sigh as yet another experiment came to an end. He carried it by the waters around it, and moved to toss it into the waste pile. Yet, he stopped part way over.

“I kind of want to save this one.”[/spoiler-box]

Author's notes:
[spoiler-box]Yay quick updates![/spoiler-box]

Tenth Dream: Inadequate Skillset, part 3 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3082033&postcount=91)

[stukasa]

[spoiler-box]I think... I'm glad I'm not a worm.

Zorael's been at this for centuries? He really needs to get some help, like grad student interns, or something.

P.S. Yay quick updates! :p[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

[spoiler-box]Well, not wanting to be a worm should go without saying. They're my first animals because they basically have nothing going for them but their simplicity. As far as I know, they're a muscle spasm with the ability to eat. I was unsure if I should go for something simpler first, like a sponge or a jellyfish. But I think most people recognized a worm as one of the simplest designs to copy. Even if I probably needed to create something without a neural system before going to one that does.

And it's funny you should mention him needing help.[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

Tenth Dream: Inadequate Skillset, part 3

[spoiler-box]A simple creature, nearly a foot in length, lay on the crystalline table in the center of the room. Its outer flesh was hard and brittle, colored a reddish brown. However, many open wounds on its top showed that the flesh underneath was soft and vulnerable. Its most striking characteristic was its legs, numbered around half a dozen. Each leg had many segments to them. Along with its legs, it had many appendages underneath its body, serving an unknown purpose.

The room had changed little since the years before. The glass separating the air inside with the waters outside have become perfectly clear, seemingly blending in perfectly with the waters themselves. The pile in the corner, cleaned of the muck it had before, was now littered with tiny bodies. And in another corner of the room was a small vial, containing a tiny worm suspended in water.

Zorael hurried along with his construction. This creature, with its many segments, was meant to test neuromuscular coordination. If successful, Zorael could make huge improvements to the movements of his future projects. Its wounds closed slowly as a line of basic materials poured into them. Finally, they were covered in a protective shell, and the creature’s body was completed.

Zorael grabbed a globe of water from outside four feet across. He placed it on the table, on top of the creature. He spread it over the table’s surface, and created an ice container on the table’s edges to hold the water. Zorael created a spark with two oppositely charged globes of water, and watched the creature perform its first movements.

“…that’s not right.”

The creature moved slowly and sluggishly. This was normal. Without its aquatic medium, its weak muscles would snap under their strain attempting to move the creature. What wasn’t normal was the way the creature coordinated its movements. While one leg moved forward, another moved back. Some arms were moving instead of legs. The creature contorted into unnatural positions trying to perform basic motions. Zorael looked on, puzzled, until he decided to check the creature’s mind. Reaching out, he touched it.

A tunnel led forward, to a cliff. Outside of the tunnel, moving shadows. Whispers were heard in the distance, but no clear words were distinguished.
The waters spun and coiled, dyed in vivid, striking colors. They pushed from every direction. He tried moving forward, but was pushed to the side instead. The more he struggled, the more the waters pushed against him.

Zorael saw through the creatures eyes, and saw nothing but pain. The creature sent signals to move forward, but those signals became distorted and confused by the time they met the limbs. One signal meant for a leg was instead sent to an arm. One signal saying to move forward was sent saying to move back. The simple mind was receiving contradicting signals, and was quickly overwhelmed.

Zorael looked on in helpless horror as his creation yelled a voiceless scream. From previous models, he knew this animal would live roughly a month before giving out. Yet in the first minute of life, it already knew nothing but pain.

Zorael couldn’t take anymore. He pushed down on the waters around the creature, crushing it instantly. A few spasms of the legs were all the life that remained. He thrust the water around it toward the wall, where it erupted into shards of ice instantly. He tossed some of the ice toward the creature, sending it toward the waste pile. He opened a portal under the pile, sending it to the surface of some far away star.

He hung in horror, too stressed to move. His sickly purple aura reflected his shocked mind.

“No more than an hour. From now on, nothing lives more than an hour.”[/spoiler-box]

Author's notes:
[spoiler-box]I'm sorry you had to read that.[/spoiler-box]

Tenth Dream: Inadequate Skillset, part 4 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3082251&postcount=95)

[stukasa]

[spoiler-box]That was both interesting and depressing to read. These creatures never seem to meet a very kind fate--except for the worm, though I have no idea how it could survive after all this time.

I don't know what you had in mind with that creature but I was imagining something like a deformed lobster or crab. Was I even close? xD[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

[spoiler-box]Yeah, that's pretty spot on. I'm being vague so you can imagine whatever. I'd like to showcase some extinct species of shellfish some time, but I don't feel this is a good time to add it.

I guess something I'm not making clear is that he's gone over hundreds of these. Thousands before making the first working microbe. I'm just cherry picking the most interesting ones to show how his progress is going.

And the worm's totally dead. It hasn't decomposed, because there's nothing to eat it. The lab's sterile.[/spoiler-box]

[stukasa]

[spoiler-box]No, I got the fact that he's been at this for a *while* now. That's why it's depressing, because so many had to die for his experiments. As I was reading I was actually wondering if he has any other hobbies going on in between these experiments or if it's literally day after day for hundreds of years, because that'd be kind of crazy. xD[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

Tenth Dream: Inadequate Skillset, part 4

[spoiler-box]Several fresh body parts were laid out on the table. Like many of the bodies lying in the corner of the room, this had a chitinous exoskeleton and many extraneous body parts. This one, however, was much larger than any of the others. To test the strain of a newly designed muscle fiber, the body was made heavy and large. However, there was an unforeseen problem with this design.

“One more time.”

Zorael rushed a torrent of water against one of the claws, pushing it towards the body.

“No, too far!”

The claw nearly rolled off the table, passing the body by far too much. Intending to move it more gently, he attempted to lift it an orb of water.

“Damn it.”

It sank, and fell right out of the orb.

He tried it again, pushing the water up to create a counter current against the claw’s weight.

“Damn it!”

The claw made it halfway across the table before it popped right out of the orb.

He switched the water to a disk shape, and froze it underneath the claw. He lifted, and slowly brought it toward the body again.

“Oh come on!”

The disk twisted, unable to keep balance. The claw bounced right off the table, and on to the floor.

“I can hit a moving target at a hundred yards. Preserve a sample for decades. Give a girl an ice flower on the spur of the moment. But I can’t pick up a damned lobster claw! Why can’t I have hands?!”

Zorael’s fuming made the task even more difficult. The claw ricocheted all across the room under various methods until the angel calmed down. He set it in an ice dish, and crystallized a bridge underneath it. The dish slowly moved forward as its support grew forward, being fed by trickles of water. After inching forward, the claw was finally put into position.

Zorael went to work on connecting the claw to the body. He built ligaments between the two items, slowly connecting the two. The ice support on the claw cracked, and broke, tearing the claw off with a rip. It rolled away, resting at the edge of the table.

“…this is ridiculous.”[/spoiler-box]

[spoiler-box]Another!

My shortest chapter yet. I wanted to set up a future event which I want to happen soon, but I needed some buildup to it. I'd rather have melded the two chapters together, but too much time needs to pass before each one. I guess this will have to do.

Also, I haven't been updating my sig. Oops. [/spoiler-box]

Tenth Dream: Inadequate Skillset, part 5 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3084419&postcount=99)

[stukasa]

[spoiler-box]Why did I feel like this was a gag out of Family Guy? Like that time when Peter's trying to get the frog out the window? You know, this one?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DXHaCEhOiWU[/b]

Only because this chapter was so short did I have time to read it tonight, so I guess that kind of worked out.[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

And only because it was so short did it come out today. I've gotta say, I enjoy not having to fit an epic in each day. The only reason I don't have the next one out is because I forgot what I was supposed to write about.

[spoiler-box]And yeah, that's kinda how it happened.[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

Along with my Deviantart, I also got a FictionPress account. I figured I may as well try to spread my works around to try to get a wider audience. I updated both my sig and the first page with links to my other sites, in case anyone's interested in that.

[Zorafim]

Tenth Dream: Inadequate Skillset, part 5

[spoiler-box]A body rose from the floor of the lab, propped up by pillars of ice. Laid out around it were body parts, completed up to the joints. Each was armored with dirty brown chitin. Ice formed, slowly and precisely, drawing each body part to the main torso. Leg segments were propped firmly against the body, allowing for a thin stream of liquid to flow to the joint. The small supportive pillars of ice melted swiftly as the joints finished connecting, testing their strength. Another segment was attached to the end of that, and one last one ending in a spike finished the legs.

Arm segments were brought up next. First, a large one stuffed with muscle was brought near the top of the creature. A large claw was lifted up to the half formed arm, finishing its form. The process was repeated on the body’s other side, balancing the body. Smaller arms were placed near the middle of the torso, forming one segment at a time. And finally, a blocky head was brought up, topping the creature off.

Zorael’s aura relaxed as he gave a sigh. This body was his toughest yet. It took him three tries just to get the neurological system right, and five to get muscles that wouldn’t snap under their own weight. The body parts were so massive, transporting them was almost as hard as building them. He had to run a few tests to make sure everything worked properly, but he felt a huge rush of accomplishment just seeing the body finally formed.

It was almost six feet tall. It was topped by a head which could barely move on its pivot, and was attached directly to the torso. Two simple, black eyes were paired in front of the head, while another pair was placed on its sides. Its torso was flat, with spiky shoulders jutting out its sides. The torso was covered in circular plates, allowing it some rudimentary movement. Supported on its heavy shoulders were large arms, ending in claws wider than they were long. Though dangerous looking, they were too awkwardly shaped to allow for much movement. Contrasting that were the two arms coming out of its torso. These were long and slender, ending in small claws with precise tips. Coming down the bottom of the torso were three legs, supporting the creature in a tripod shape should the ice supports be removed. Three segmented and jointed in opposite directions, these provided strong support despite their thin shape.

Zorael gathered and charged two bodies of water to waken the nerves. With their spark, the body tensed up. The body was elevated off its supports by its legs, its large arms bulked up, and its small arms folded up to its chest. It showed its signs of life.
Yet, it simply stood there, motionless.

Zorael relaxed his hold on the water around him, allowing the ice to melt and the water to fall. He gathered himself, preparing himself for the upcoming possession. He reached forward, and felt its mind.


Emptiness. Stillness. A blue sky. A still lake. Both meeting in every horizon, unintruded by wave nor land.

Clouds lazily floated in the sky, small and pure white. Their image reflected perfectly on the water’s surface, unclear which was the original and which is the reflection.
Beyond that, nothingness. No self, no projection.

Zorael stepped forward, across the water’s surface. He walked towards the water’s center. No consciousness met him, and no words greeted him. He wished to meld his desires with whomever he met, and yet he met no-one.

And then he saw the lab with four eyes.


His vision was unfocused. Bright colors jumped at him at his vision’s center, while vague grey shapes lingered at his vision’s edges. He turned his head to view the room, but could barely see what was behind him even with his side eyes as he strained to turn his head around.

He tested the body. He moved his claws, each sluggish in response to his commands. The higher pair could barely move, but the claws had excellent control. The thin arms at his center had greater flexibility, but terrible stability. His whole body shifted uncomfortably as he took some test steps forward, always threatening to teeter over.

“Perfect! Nerve signals are all correct, all parts are receiving blood, energy flow is stable,”

Zorael went through a checklist in his mind as his body lumbered forward. With no consciousness or instincts to compete with, he was in full control of the body. The mind was specially crafted to allow for specific inputs, allowing the soul to give specific commands. It made its way to the table, for one last performance test.

The heavy claw slowly moved toward a claw at the edge of the table, four inches long. It lifted it, inched the claw towards the center of the table, and gently set it down. His other arm reached for a body, on the other side of the table. It extended its claw over it, and carefully lifted it. It was brought to the claw in the table’s center. The big arms rested at the side, while the smaller arms reached forward. They held the two pieces firmly together, allowing a stream of liquid to close the wound separating them.
And after all this time, he finally finished that damned crab.[/spoiler-box]

[stukasa]

[spoiler-box]It's kind of funny that even though Zorael could theoretically choose to make his new lifeforms look like anything he wants, he basically goes with an existing design. Sure it's a bit different, but it still has most of the same types of parts: head, eyes, body, arms, legs. Maybe that's so it won't feel so weird when he's possessing it or maybe it's so the reader can picture it easier, or maybe he figures God had a pretty good design already, so why mess with a good thing?

I'm looking forward to seeing what comes out of all these experiments. He's certainly gained a lot of experience so far![/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

[spoiler-box]Chalk that up to lack of creativity. Either Zorael's or mine. Your reasoning is pretty spot on, though. It should be hard enough to work that back leg and the two extra pairs of arms. I'd imagine he'd have a tough time working, say a set of tentacles. And he's working hard enough just trying to get body parts working. If he comes up with stuff he doesn't even know works, it'll be so much harder to debug any problems they have.[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

Tenth Dream: Inadequate Skillset, part 6

[spoiler-box]Strips of flesh lay on the crystalline table. Bones jutted at random angles out of some of them, while other bones simply lay on the table. Claws above moved, slowly, to manipulate the pieces. Each movement was a crawl. Each limb was unable to move any faster than the slow pace they had set. Yet even at this slow speed, they fumbled. As if feeling for pieces, they felt around the table.

“It’s way too dark in here…”

Zorael tried his best. He gave himself sensitive eyes, sacrificing clarity for sensitivity to light. He searched with his spiritual vision, sending messages to his body of his target’s general location. He even utilized his body’s sensitivity to motion to help him find his targets. And still, he lost far too much time due to lack of light.

“There’s no way around it. I need more light.”

As he worked, he tried coming up with solutions. An obvious one was to keep a portal open near a star. However, the resulting vacuum would devastate his lab. He could open a portal to a starlit planet with a similar atmospheric density. But that would introduce far too many contaminants. He could focus starlight through a lens. But that would require far too much concentration, and result in far too little light. A lamp could work, but he had no consistent source of fuel. He needed to find another source of light.

“Another source of… light?”

Stopping his work, he lifted his smaller claw. He opened it, and focused. A pure light formed, gently illuminating the room around him. It’s been so long since he had to rely on his borrowed power, he simply forgot about it. With this sudden realization, his mind raced with possibilities.

“Sustained light would require constant attention and would run out. I need something permanent… Bind it to some water? What if I need to move it? How can I illuminate the whole planet?”

After seconds of brainstorming, he looked down. Ignoring his body, he flew to the center of his tiny planet, and looked around.

“Perfect!”

Deciding on a location, he spent an extra moment working out the mechanics of his solution. Reaching a conclusion, he reached out and touched the core waters of his planet. An orb roughly a meter across at the planet’s exact center circled around itself, waters being agitated by Zorael’s will. He excited them as much as possible, swirling and pushing them until they threatened to tear apart. And as a final step, he shot forward all the divine light he had in him all at once. This small orb now shone with all the light Zorael kept in his soul.

The sea illuminated immediately, shining a pure white light all throughout the planet. Once dark and foreboding, these waters were now warm and inviting. He darted up to the surface to see the light scattered by the glassy waters. Still not satisfied, he pushed gently across the water’s surface. Gentle waves formed, allowing the light to dance out of the water’s surface.

Happy with his new light source, he reinhabited his body. He set back to work, before he scowled.

“Too bright…”[/spoiler-box]

Tenth Dream: Inadequate Skillset, part 7 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3089544&postcount=106)

[stukasa]

[spoiler-box]Never satisfied, huh? :lol: I like the idea of light coming from below, I think it would be fun to swim in water like that. We always think of "the ocean depths" being dark and mysterious, but on Zorael's planet it's brighter the deeper you get.[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

[spoiler-box]I've always liked the way lighted pools looked. (http://plantnj.com/images/layout/featured_projects/ciasulli/completed/night-pool.jpg) There's enough light to see what's going on, but it's still dark enough to be relaxing. And because there's no natural reproduction of it, it has an alien look to it.

Water has always had a stigma attached to it. All the scary stuff comes from there. And like you said, the more watery the environment gets, the spookier it becomes. This is my attempt to reverse that. Here, the sky is empty and lifeless, but the world becomes more safe and secure the deeper down you go. This gives the waters a holy feel to them, really driving home the fact that an angel of water lives here.

Of course, that point is kinda lost when the only room on the planet has a pile of bodies in the corner...[/spoiler-box]

[CelestialBlade]

[spoiler-box]My thoughts exactly; lighted pools are so awesome :D The light gives the planet a very ethereal feel, it's a very cool mental image.[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

Tenth Dream: Inadequate Skillset, part 7

[spoiler-box]Strips of flesh lay on the crystalline table, illuminated by an ethereal light from below. Their forms cast shadows on the ceiling and walls, while the table they lay on scattered blue light around its foot. While resting, the edges of the flesh were stitched together by an unseen hand, knitting them together like pieces of cloth. A strong bone crossed through the center of each piece, and fitted on top of each other like pieces of a puzzle.

The pile of corpses in the corner of the room told of previous attempts at this design. Near the bottom lay simple fish, whose faults were evident at a glance. Though deeply flawed, these served as excellent learning tools for their designer. Despite the grueling hours spent building each one, they were never given life.
The higher one searched in the pile, the more elegant the corpses became. Above their awkwardly shaped brothers lay fish who were given life, but no consciousness. Their movements were tested as a series of reflexes, allowing for faults to be easily spotted and safely dealt with. Their designs became increasingly extravagant as one searched the top. Here, design limitations were pushed as fully functional life forms struggled through their short lives. Flaws were located and removed, until none were left.
With the knowledge gained from all these bodies, one final design remained to test.

Finally stitched together and awaiting life, the body of a monstrous sea creature lay limp on the lab’s table. Its body was large and heavy, armored with protective scales which weighed it down even more. Devoid of limbs, it was long and flat. Despite the large scales protecting it, all of the body was flexible save for its head. Like a slab of rock, its only moving parts were its jaws. Empty eyes lay hidden behind a clear scale, allowing it to see clearly at all times.

Zorael manipulated the body with his heavy claws, looking for any unfinished seams. Looking like a giant armored eel, it was by far his greatest work. Along with displaying his newfound mastery of skeletal structures, breakthroughs in musculature and neurology made it stronger, faster, and more mentally complex than his other creations.
Marveling at his work, he sparked it to life, and rushed in some water for it to swim in.

It moved flawlessly. The bone structure held, the muscles supported it well, and its mind steered it with no problems. Like a flag blowing in the wind, it circled elegantly in the limited space it was given.

Zorael realized quickly one mistake in his design. It was so large, it would be a shame to let it sit out its life in such a cramped room. He looked out to the clear, untouched water surrounding his lab. Since the dawn of time, nothing alive has stirred those waters. And Zorael could not think of a better creature to do so than the sublime beast circling atop his table.

He melted a circle off the walls of his lab, and siphoned a tube of water to the wall-less tank at the room’s center. Sensing an escape, the armored fish rushed through the tube into the watery world outside. Free of its confines, it glided through the waters like cloth in the wind. Its slow motions were captured by the light beneath it, sending its shadow to the surface to double its every movement.

While enjoying the sight of his newest creation, Zorael glanced at his lab to prepare for his next project. He frowned as he saw his pile of materials, running dangerously low. Between the body he was inhabiting and the armored fish swimming outside, he had used up a large amount of resources. Even recycling the bodies at the other corner, he still wouldn’t have an adequate supply for another large project.

While keeping his gaze on his simplistic fish, he searched his memory for inhabited planets. He filtered out ones he had stolen from recently, and searched for a rich, healthy planet. Still adoring his newest creation, he absentmindedly scanned the planet for a corpse. He quickly found one laying out in the open. Half chewed on and reeking of decay, he none the less grabbed it and dropped it through a portal.

The body emerged next to its sun. Its rays burned the corpse as it drifted, killing any parasites feeding on it. After the flesh had dried, it floated through another portal. This time, it reappeared above Zorael’s lab. Guided gently by streams of water, and falling slowly with the planet’s low gravity, it landed softly in the lab’s corner. Here, Zorael shred it apart, sorting different materials into different piles. And all the while, he watched his fish glide through the water.

Drops of water tore through the air, which hummed an ethereal blue. Depositing their payload of base materials, they continued their assault. Light danced through the room as water distorted its far away source. And a heavy armored creature gazed out its window at the wavelike movements of a newborn monster. [/spoiler-box]

Tenth Dream: Inadequate Skillset, part 8 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3091393&postcount=109)

[stukasa]

[spoiler-box]"Zorael's experiments are evolving! Magikarp evolved into... Gyarados!"
[spoiler-box]http://i39.tinypic.com/316m3iu.jpg[/spoiler-box]

(That's what I imagined when I read that part.)

But seriously, how big is that room?! I wasn't picturing it as an overly large room, but you described this thing as a "monstrous, giant armored eel" so now I'm wondering if the room was larger than I thought.

I liked the detail about how he "cooked" the corpse by dragging it near the sun to burn away all the parasites. Good call, you can never been too careful with things like that.[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

[spoiler-box]I was afraid that my sense of scale would be off this chapter, but I didn't want to get into detail to double check any calculations. The creature I'm referring to is large, maybe almost the length of a person and a bit wider. That may not seem all that large when you imagine it, but if you imagine swimming around with that thing, it suddenly seems a whole lot bigger.
I based it off a prehistoric fish, similar to this. (http://www.bio.miami.edu/dana/pix/placoderm.jpg) It turns out from the brief research I did to find that picture that they can get fairly huge, (http://www.savalli.us/BIO370/Diversity/02.AgnathaImages/PlacodermsKey.jpg) so maybe I need more research before I scale these things.
The room shouldn't be much bigger than a bedroom. Rather cramped, considering that when it was built, it didn't need much space. The table shouldn't be too much longer than four feet across. Just big enough to house this fish, but not enough to let it move around. For someone used to dealing with things less than a foot in length (and even that size is fairly recent, considering how much practice it takes to get a multicelled organism right), an easy oversight to make.

And yes, I'm very concerned with contamination. I'm working with pure, raw materials. These could easily cause a worldwide pandemic if infected at this stage, and the average body is filthy with micro-organisms. I'm not even sure roasting it in the sun would be enough, or if the proteins would be salvageable at that point. I'm just sorta hoping Zorael knows what he's doing and guiding him as best as he can.[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

Tenth Dream: Inadequate Skillset, part 8

[spoiler-box]Zorael’s claws were busy manipulating strips of meat. Just behind his back foot stood several glass containers, in which floated the preserved corpses of his most proud achievements. By far the largest, and the newest addition, was a hulking armored fish. And by far the smallest was a tiny vial containing a simple worm. Various containers inbetween stood at that side of the room as well. A crustacean, a coral, and a shelled squid filled up any gaps on this side of the room.

On the other side stood two piles of biomaterials. One was raw, ready to be used at a moment’s notice. The other was filled with corpses, ready to be recycled or restudied. Between those and the central table were precious few feet, where various pet projects roamed aimlessly. An alien crustacean with an extravagant set of layered armor crawled slowly across the floor. A mollusk with an ornate shell lay motionless. A finely detailed worm glided effortlessly through a thin layer of water on the floor.
In a word, the room was cramped.

Zorael became aware of the problem fairly recently. Yet his projects always distracted him too much for him to do anything about it. His irritation grew as he worked, however. His body was pushed up against his table as he worked. And he constantly worried where he would place his next project. Yet his tipping point came when his pet crab walked over his clam for the third time.

His body froze, midway through moving a piece of flesh. He grew blades of ice from bottom corners of the room down to the bright waters below. After doubling the height of the room, they joined together at the bottom, sealing the waters within them from the rest of the planet. A spiral tube then grew from the bottom chamber to the room above it. Two tubes grew from the bottom room’s sides, extending to the air above. Water gushed out of one side, while air rushed to fill in the emptied space. The lab shook in response to the building’s changing weight. The tubes melted off, leaving only the smooth edges of a room. And the spiral tube on the side opened to a set of stairs, leading down. The floor behind Zorael buckled with a loud crack, and fell gently enough to safely place all the trophy jars in their room below. Ice melted from below them, and streamed upwards to fill the gap it created.

The process was repeated on the lab’s side. Ice grew from the sides of the building, forming an enclosing. Water poured from the room’s side as air replaced it. A door formed, allowing safe passage between the two rooms. Zorael set down the meat in his hands, as he formed a bubble of water around his worm. Not bothering to try to lift the other two with the same method, he simply hobbled over to them as quickly as his slow, unbalanced legs could take him. He reached down with his smaller claws as his orb delivered his worm. He lifted his crab and tentacled clam, turned, and carried them to the next room. He turned back, and head back to his work station.

In the side room, his creations wandered through a large, spacious room. Below, his trophies laid undisturbed, ready for anyone willing to gaze at them. And in the lab, Zorael fiddled with unfinished bodies unconstrained.
It was makeshift, but his simple lab grew into a more organized building.[/spoiler-box]

Tenth Dream: Inadequate Skillset, part 9 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3091663&postcount=113)

[CelestialBlade]

[spoiler-box]"Huh, my lab isn't big enough. I'm just gonna fix that now with a mere thought."

Man, there sure are days I wish I had Zorael's powers :lol:[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

[spoiler-box]Yeah, it's kinda nice having a planet made of the only material you bothered learning how to manipulate. Makes me glad I spent some time building that power up.

I'm wondering if I'm doing this chapter set right. I want to give the impression that large chunks of time are passing, but at the same time I'm resolving conflicts quickly. I don't want to go into every grueling detail, as this chapter is already dragging on. But trivializing ordeals has its problems too.[/spoiler-box]

[stukasa]

[spoiler-box]I think Zorael's been cooped up in that lab too long, he'll end up as a crazy mad scientist at this rate!

You haven't mentioned the passage of time lately but I haven't forgotten what you wrote before about lots of time passing. I guess it's a little hard to discern exactly how much time has passed, whether it be years, centuries, millennia, or whatever. You could always include a reference to that if you're concerned about it.

And I wouldn't say you're resolving conflicts quickly. To me it just seems like he's tackling one issue at a time. You could always introduce a more complicated issue that arises which Zorael won't figure out how to solve until later. I'm not saying you should spend more than one post on a single issue, but maybe he doesn't figure out what to do about something and then a couple posts later, while working on something else, the problem resolves itself through a twist of luck/fate/etc. *shrugs*[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

Tenth Dream: Inadequate Skillset, part 9

[spoiler-box]The same dream again.

A still lake, reaching forever.

Blue skies. White clouds.

Emptiness. Beauty. Peace.


Zorael woke from the table’s top. His vision caught a towering form above him. Broad shoulders, a helmet-like head, and heavy claws. The still form of his previous body. It still performs its basic motions of life, even now that its soul no longer has need of it.

Zorael lifted his torso, turned his body, and set his feet on the floor. His three toes were splayed, providing a wide foothold. His legs bent at two parts, using its powerful muscles to keep him standing instead of bone structure. His torso was erect, straight as the body he had before. His arms were thin, ending in hooked fingers. His neck arced forward, into a head with a gentle snout. His face was peaceful, but his eyes showed no intelligence. A thin tail fell from his back, and rested gently on the floor. Decorative blades grew from his elbows, knees, ankles, and atop his head and down his back. His scaled flesh was a dark grey, with a gentle hue of blue.

He spent a moment to test his new body. It had already been tested for faults, and its performance has already rated much higher than his previous body. But Zorael wanted to know exactly how the body felt.

Taking a few test steps, he felt secure and balanced. Though his swift speed seemed no faster to him through his swift mind, his soul easily saw the difference. He bent down, and picked up a corpse in the corner of the room. A lizard he worked on long ago. His grip was gentle, yet held the body fast in his hands. As he looked at it, he saw details on the flesh he never would have seen with his previous eyes.
It was clear. This body was a vast improvement over his last.

He walked back over to the armored figure still standing over the table in the center of the room. He placed his hand on it, and admired it one last time. Though it was obsolete, Zorael could not bring himself to dispose of it. He summoned a disk of ice, and lifted the body on to it. Holding it fast, he pushed it to the stairs, and took it to his museum below.

From a central room, the museum branched. He preserved corpses for a variety of reasons. Some were benchmarks, the first of their kinds. Others were built to test the limits of designs, and were marvels to behold. And still others held special sentimental value. The bodies were sorted into different rooms based on these criteria, and Zorael went into the room filled with the latter.

Various bodies were arranged neatly against the walls, easily viewable from the room’s entrance. Zorael set the body he carried in an empty spot. He summoned water through the floor, and set to work preserving the body. Submerged in water and encased in ice, it made as fine an addition as any other body present.

Zorael retraced his steps and re-entered his lab. Not yet ready to resume working, he instead head into his terrarium. Once again branching from a central room, various creatures were placed together based on compatibility. Looking through the glass of one room, he saw various swift reptiles darting through their terrain. They climbed and leapt from flayed pillars of ice. He stood, enjoying his newest additions, until he had his fill. He head back to his lab, intent on more work. As he entered, the tail end of one of the creatures living in his sea passed by the lab’s window.

He stood behind his table. He motioned toward his raw materials, drawing them forward with droplets of water. Instead of crafting pieces of flesh and bone, he instead weaved the materials together into an intricate, compact form.
He had spent all this time building his creatures from scratch. It’s about time he learned how to grow them instead.[/spoiler-box]

Tenth Dream: Inadequate Skillset, part 10 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3091669&postcount=114)

[Zorafim]

Tenth Dream: Inadequate Skillset, part 10

[spoiler-box]Zorael raised a vial to his reptilian eye. It was filled with a light green liquid, and glowed ominously as it caught the light. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for. Perhaps it just an instinctual motion to sooth his mind. It was impossible for him to see anything in the vial but the vibrant green glowing from it. Yet still, he gazed into it.

How many decades has it been since he switched to this method? However long, he wished he used it sooner. He had to set back his research when he switched, but he caught back up swiftly. He no longer had to build each muscle strand of his project, nor manually repair damage caused to the tissues of his works. Each new project took painstaking work to set up, but he no longer had to start from scratch with every mistake he found. Each project took more time overall to finish, but he was now able to perform several at once without fear of neglecting any.

Zorael switched his gaze across the room. Several bodies laid suspended in clear tubes. Unlike the corpses in his gallery, these were alive and growing. Starting as a drop from one of the vials lining the room, they had grown into the forms in the glass tubes, and would continue to grow until they were ready to waken.

How much easier it was this way. He simply watched the bodies grow, and allowed himself the time to perform other tasks. Save for vials lining the wall and containers filled with various liquids, the lab was clean and orderly. His galleries sprawled into an easily navigable museum, and his living projects filled an ordered menagerie. Even his crystal housing itself benefited from his attention, growing more ornate in design with each passing project.

Of course, this method did have a cost. Creating and editing the source material of each project was a grueling task. Far too small for his body to manipulate, Zorael had to rely completely on aquatic manipulation to build each one. The size was great, and the design was intricate. The smallest mistake in the design could end up destroying a project, and would be virtually impossible to find. Yet, testing for mistakes early was possible, and editing existing source material was faster than building a body from scratch.
Zorael was satisfied with the vial in his hands. If his current designs were correct, then these next projects would be ready to test. He set the vial away, and moved to examine his projects.

Of the three, the first two were flawless. Still early in their development, they resembled little more than lumps of flesh with vague details. They were well on their way to maturity, however. The last one was nearly fully grown, but some flaws were becoming apparent. The flesh had begun to sag, and the musculature was frail. Arms which should be long and graceful were shriveled. Fingers which should be strong and dexterous were claw-like. Strong legs were instead withered, smooth hair was instead wispy, and thoughtful eyes were instead sunken.
And he was so looking forward to his new body, too.

Dejected at his failure, Zorael went back to studying his vial. He searched the genetic code for musculature, and tried to see where his mistake was. It might take him a few tries before he perfected this model. But, such is the price of success.[/spoiler-box]

Author's notes:
[spoiler-box]Couldn't sleep. Wrote instead. Turns out you can crunch out mad volume when you don't sleep. It also helps that I only need to write 10 words for every year that passes.[/spoiler-box]

Tenth Dream: Inadequate Skillset, epilogue (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3092458&postcount=116)

[stukasa]

[spoiler-box]Geez, posting two parts in half an hour?! Give us time to read the first one first! :p

Actually, I know what you mean. You gotta write when you're feeling inspired. I've stayed up later than planned several times when I was in the middle of an inspirational moment, but I've never gotten up to write... mainly because I can't afford the sleep loss.

Anyway, in retrospect it seems like an obvious design change. I mean, God relies on growing lifeforms, right? In the Bible he made Adam and Eve, but everyone after that was basically "grown from scratch." So it seems logical that Zorael should follow his example.

For some reason I kept picturing Jurassic Park as I read these parts of the story...
"This is how you make dinosaurs?"
"No, this is how you play God."[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

Tenth Dream: Inadequate Skillset, epilogue

[spoiler-box]He leaned against the central doorway, peering out into the endless still ocean. He crossed his arms, and rested his right ankle behind his left, as he waited. His body was lean and muscular, as if it was sculpted instead of made. Though large, the body also had an elegant flow. His dark silver hair fell gently on his shoulders and down his back; thick, clean, and straight. His face had strong features, but radiated a gentle softness. He wore a simple dull white cloth, wrapped around his shoulder and tied at his waist, out of equal parts modesty and vanity. And he smiled in amusement at the scene in front of him.

Out from the gate he rested on laid a simple glass pathway, level with the waters and stretching into the horizon. A dozen yards out sat a large cat, peering into the waters. Despite its feral shape and size, it had the markings of a housecat. It wore a black coat, and had a white belly. Especially prominent were the small white boot markings on its feet.

It sat level on the glass, tail twitching in anticipation as it gazed into the clear waters below. Shadows danced across the walkway and the water’s surface, fed by the pure white light far below and shaped by unseen creatures in the sea. The cat jumped back suddenly, as a head lunged out of the water and rested on the pathway.

The cat's tail curled as it rose, and its back arced in suspense. It gazed at the head of a massive creature, whose body was obscured by the waters below. Intelligent eyes gazed back at the cat for a moment. It spat forward a mass of objects, before retreating back into the waters. It dove back down to the brilliant depths in serpentine movements.

The cat relaxed its pose, sniffing at what the snake spat up. Fish floundered on the walkway, completely helpless. The cat turned its head to the man standing under the archway, seeking approval. His calm eyes and unfaltering smile gave her the confidence to continue. It swiped at the fish, pushing them back into the water save for the one it wanted. It picked that one up with its mouth, and trotted happily back to the man with its tail high in the air.

“Was that so bad?”

Zorael looked at his pet with an amused expression. It gave him a brief glance before looking away. She stood up, taking the fish in her hands, before replying:

“He’s scary.”

It was hard to decide whether she was a human who looked like a cat, or a cat which looked human. Any onlooker would have their opinion changed depending on what angle they saw her. For a human, her face was short. Or for a cat, it was tall. These two thoughts would struggle in your mind as you looked at her head. Prominent furry ears adorned her head, focused on the man in front of her. Running along it laid short, shaggy hair. Fur ran along the side of her head, framing her face. Dark yellow eyes stared at a corner of the room with a black slit running through them, contrasting the intelligence shown in them. White eyebrows contrasted the black hair on her head.
Her body was thin and muscular. Black arms ended in white hands, with short fingers and strong nails. Black legs ended in white feet, standing gracefully on their balls. A black tail twitched to balance the rest of the body.

“Rahab’s not scary. Give him a chance, he’s not that bad.”

Zorael pushed himself off the entrance’s side with his shoulder, and turned in a simple motion. He turned his head back to his cat, and waited until she caught up before entering the doorway of the palace before them.

The gate’s wall rose two stories above the water, and stretched straight for nearly a mile. The roof rose suddenly as it got closer to its center, rising in layers. Spires of ice adorned the top of the building, decorating them without adding purpose. It gave a grand view from the main walkway, but more impressive was what was beneath the waters. Like an inverted crown, enormous stalactites dug deep into the water, forming roughly together into one large basement. For every foot above the waves the tower stood, ten dug underneath them.

Inside the gates was an ethereal dream. Light passing from underneath scattered through countless translucent walls, until they passed through the main hall in flicks of scattering lights. As if from a prism, they danced on the walls and ceiling. The hall itself was impressively built. Made like the entrance of a mansion, it had many doors leading out of it: two on either side of the room, front and back; one in the center, leading downward; and four on top of the circular staircase on either side of the room, leading to higher towers. Zorael and his pet walked through the central door, heading deep into the palace.

“It’s not like he’ll eat you, you know.”

“You never know…”

“Bootsie, I made him myself. He doesn’t eat meat. I couldn’t even fit a digestive tract on him. You’re pretty safe.”

Their words echoed through the narrow hallways, making the ice sing as the words passed. Just barely evident through the thick walls were motions of creatures beyond them. Beyond the walls, an untold number of animals made their home. None nearly as complicated as the two walking down the stairs, their simple homes were adequate for their contentment. Their population became more sparse as the pair walked down, until they reached the lower spires. Here, all life was instead housed in tubes; either awaiting life, or having already finished it. They rested, standing ready for anyone willing to gaze at them.

The pair walked to the edge of the central spire, to a room overlooking the ocean below. Here, an antiquated lab sat with various improvements adorning it. From the glass pane on the back, the ocean’s light was clear and vibrant. A colorful display of aquatic life glided in it, as if dancing for anyone wanting to see them. Along with the room’s central table sat various vats. Unknown substances rested in each of them, ready to be used at a moment’s notice.
Bootsie jumped on top of a particularly comfortable one, sat on her side, and started nibbling on her fish joyfully.

Vaguely aware of her presence, Zorael walked back to the central table. On it rested a corpse, cut open in the middle. He was in the middle of a dissection when his cat bugged him for food. Setting back to work, he summoned a scalpel, and sliced through the flesh. He examined the organs, comparing what he found with what he was hoping to build.
He mused to himself, studying now as he always has.[/spoiler-box]

Author's notes:
[spoiler-box]You have no idea how good it feels to finally write this chapter. Here, I introduce all the important aspects of Zorael. His unnecessarily beautiful body, his overly elaborate ice castle (god bless fantasy works for crystal palaces), and various fantastical creatures he keeps around for no reason. Everything up until this point, I think of as backstory. Things that happened to him that made him into what he is. From here on, he'll be the character I imagined him to be.

Rahab is a mascot for Zorael. In visions and visits, he took the form of a winged serpent, in memory of Leviathan who sparked his imagination. While I modeled Leviathan after any biblical accounts I could find of him, Rahab is more modeled after the FF Leviathans (I'm glad Qoxolg drew up a neat design of a winged serpent so I could get the FF version out of my mind). I was stuck for a bit between naming the serpent Rahab (same name as my PM in PSU), or Taninim, which was the name of Leviathan's slain mate. They are both the names of sea serpents, and hebrew mythology uses them both fairly often (according to wikipedia). I decided on Rahab, since it sounded cooler, and because the word had a more fitting meaning. In hebrew, it means "pride", to the point of insolence.

Bootsie is a childhood pet, who I try to include in my works whenever I can. I modeled her design and personality after my cat.

I forgot to mention in my last few chapters, but his last body had some history behind it too. As I've mentioned before, I've had Zorael around since I was 5 even though I only recently named him. His entire concept was just a fantasy hero I would fantasize being. At first, because of how much I liked Jurassic Park, he was a dinosaur man. So any time I can, I try to have some reptilian version of Zorael to reference that.[/spoiler-box]

Eleventh Dream: Faltering Confidence (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3093694&postcount=119)

[stukasa]

[spoiler-box]Wow, that was certainly a jump in evolutionary progress! It felt like he was advancing slowly for a long time, but now he's improved by leaps and bounds! I mean, considering he made a talking pet and all. :p I really liked the character of Bootsie, though I admit I laughed when I first heard the name... then felt slightly guilty when you mentioned it was named after your real pet.

So I guess now we're at the point in the story that you spent more time thinking about when you were younger? I don't know what you have in store next, but I'll be looking forward to it! ^^[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

[spoiler-box]Well again, I never had a narrative or a progression going when I dreamt this stuff up. It was always just about the characters and their adventures. I want to skip as much unnecessary stuff as I can, since there's still about 500 years worth. But yeah, this upcoming stuff is what I spent most of my time dreaming up.

As for the evolution, I figure the jump between reptile and speech is about on par with the jump between fish and reptile. I tried to keep in mind how long evolution took to reach certain points while trying to pace my timeline, which is why it took him so long to get his first working amoeba working, and why progress with the worm was so slow. After he learned enough to make reptiles, anything above that isn't too much harder.

And don't worry about laughing at the name. My sister picked it.
Bootsie won't be an important character, but I do want her in the background often. I'll probably point her out here and there when I want the reader to pause between actions or such. [/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

Eleventh Dream: Faltering Confidence

[spoiler-box]The beast moved as if in slow motion, seemingly gliding through the landscape as it walked. Its legs were like skyscrapers, muscular and thick even compared to the rest of its body, and ended in powerful hooves which pulverized the ground beneath it into deep craters. High above the ground, gliding with the clouds, was its body; thickly built with large, lean muscles. A comparatively thin tail came from behind the beast, lashing through the air behind it like a crushing flog, and ending in a ball of thick hair. Out of its thick shoulders came a thick neck, flexible enough only to allow the beast to turn its gaze. And guiding the beast was a massive head; with crushing jaws, a fierce gaze, and curled horns which scraped the heavens.

Zorael’s spirit gazed at the beast, glowing fiercely with determination and intensely with studious intent. The creature glanced back at the spirit, staring through the dimensions to return his gaze. It still fills Zorael with unease that this physical body could see past the world it lived in. But Behemoth didn’t live constrained to the laws of the universe. Powerful beyond all reason, it created its own laws simply by existing.

Behemoth’s sheer power bent the space around him. To an outside observer, it seemed as if the towering beast simply phased in and out of existence, destroying the land around it before fading away. Zorael’s ascended existence allowed him to see the full truth, however. Not bound to a single dimensional plane, it instead phased between them, searching all possible dimensions. Its lust for destruction made it search through every dimensional variant of earth, searching for the one governed by God and destroying the rest. It would find it at the end of times, and thrash out with its unfathomable power. But that day was far in the future. For now, it searched. And Zorael studied.

Only a handful of beasts in existence come close to matching Behemoth’s splendor. Of all the creatures made by God, only two others could come close to matching it. And how Zorael wanted to study it! It was so far removed from anything he could make, he couldn’t bare it. A sample of its flesh, a strand of its muscles, a fragment of its bone; anything would advance his studies tremendously. Yet Zorael didn’t dare come close to the creature. Even as an eternal spirit, he might not survive a direct encounter with such a powerful beast.

Behemoth looked up and glared at Zorael. He thrashed his head around in a display of strength, and roared with all his might. The sound was like an explosion, ripping through the air and crashing into the landscape. Zorael backed off, giving the beast the space it demanded. He knew he wouldn’t get any more information off the beast. He stared on for a moment more, hoping for a hint of knowledge which would help him continue his work. He stood still as the beast phased about, until Zorael lost track of it.
He returned back to his body, on a planet so far away.


Zorael woke in his bed. Bootsie laid at his feet, curled into a ball. He took a moment to rest and let his mind wander, hoping for ideas. After his search, he rose, and walked for the door. Bootsie cracked open her eyes, but laid motionless as she watched him leave. He made his way over to his lab, walked to his table, and leaned over it.

’How much longer until I can make my own Behemoth…?’

Looking up, he saw the rainbow of aquatic life he created over the centuries.

’No… I guess a Leviathan would suit me more.’

Bootsie walked in silently through the door. She made her way to her favorite vat, and jumped atop of it. Waiting for her to lay down was a blanket Zorael placed there a while back. She resumed the position she had atop the bed, and watched Zorael with half opened eyes.

’I guess… the only way I can go is forward.’[/spoiler-box]

Twelfth Dream: The Price of Perfection, part 1 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3097017&postcount=122)

[stukasa]

[spoiler-box]You can't make a statement like "only two others could come close to matching it" and then not tell us which ones!! Unless of course that's a spoiler for later, in which case I totally understand. The one that came to mind right away was Leviathan, of course. But as for the other...?

When Zorael decided to make his own Leviathan, I was like, "Yep, it's almost time..."

Bootsie's such a lazy cat. But then, so's mine. I guess I can just say she's a cat.[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

[spoiler-box]It's not really meant to be a spoiler. Just a reference to an obscure jewish myth that I just so happen to base almost all my mythology on. I might do a story later on Ziz if it fits, just to complete the triad. But the name should come up soon anyway.

I contemplated whether or not I should have the name drop in there. On the one hand, it spoils my immediate intentions. On the other hand, I was really hoping for this reaction. (http://weknowmemes.com/generator/uploads/generated/g1354834802439195130.jpg)

I love cat girls. But I hate when they're more girl than cat, and the cat part is just there as an excuse to get them to act cute. Bootsie's entire personality is based around my house cat, having almost no human emotions.
So yes. She's a cat.[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

Twelfth Dream: The Price of Perfection, part 1

[spoiler-box]Zorael stood above his table, manipulating the strips of flesh upon them. He worked now, as he has worked for centuries. His skills have improved, his insight has expanded, his speed has increased, and his projects have become more complex. Yet he still performed the same task he started so long ago; without rest, without tire, and without want of anything else.
This was not just some task someone thrust upon him. This was not some act which he did to benefit another. He worked with inspiration, with love in his actions, and with hope for his future.
For Zorael, his creations were art. And he would not rest until his art was perfected.

Upon his table laid various groups of muscles. Though differing in color and weight, each was the same size and shape. Various other clumps of muscles were scattered around the room as well, organized based on their performances. Along with those on the table, some sat growing in tubes, waiting for maturation. Particularly promising arrangements were preserved, along with their corresponding genetic material, in a tank in the side of the room. Obsolete muscles were discarded in a vat, ready to be recycled or disposed of in some other method. Bootsie gnawed on one she begged for earlier atop her vat.

Zorael grew past the point where only living designs would progress his skill. Already his creations had progressed past the complexity of the creatures he used for reference. He needed to focus his effort on smaller details, and perfect those before he could advance his studies. In order to create his creatures larger, or faster, or more delicate, he would first need to make them stronger and more durable.
The first step to that, is stronger muscles.

Zorael attached a muscle to two springs, set facing each other and pulling away. With their uniform size and shape, each muscle could easily be replaced on to this device and tested the same way. The current muscle was stretched with a small amount of slack, holding firm. Zorael applied a trace amount of current onto the system, and watched the muscle contract.

The muscle pulled against the springs, stretching them. Zorael measured the distance the springs moved. He etched the data on an ice tablet he had on hand, scratching words onto its clear surface. He took note of how far the muscle displaced the string, how long it could hold that displacement, and how much the muscle damaged itself while displacing. He had recorded dozens already, manipulating successful designs into the muscles he was testing today. And he would seek out the best designs he had today, and base new designs off them tomorrow.

He would squeeze out miniscule improvements with each set of designs he made. He would test these designs to their breaking point, and clean out their weaknesses. He would work tirelessly and endless, neither out of desperation nor desire.
He stood and perfected his art with love, because his art gave him joy.
[/spoiler-box]

Author's Notes:
[spoiler-box]I'm sorry to do this again to you guys so soon after the last story arc. I promise next one will be more fun. I wanted to jump right into the next chapter, but I felt that it wasn't developed enough yet. This should give more insight to better invest you to what's going on.[/spoiler-box]

Twelfth Dream: The Price of Perfection, part 2 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3100710&postcount=125)

[stukasa]

[spoiler-box]He's got a lot of patience, that's for sure! I love my art too but I don't think I could keep at it tirelessly for centuries on end. :lol:

As for your comments, if you feel it wasn't developed enough to jump into the next part of the story then you were probably right to "flesh it out" a bit more first. See what I did there, with that pun? It came to me as I was writing it.[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

[spoiler-box]Maybe he's OCD. Or maybe I'm spending way too much time already on this section and don't want to make it any longer by showing all the adventures he's having in between takes. Which I maybe will get back to later.[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

Twelfth Dream: The Price of Perfection, part 2

[spoiler-box]Zorael stood over his table, working peacefully on his projects. Behind him laid Bootsie at her perch, tail twitching rhythmically. Skeletal models adorned the lab, each with elegant flow and fine bones of white ice.
A loud roar echoed through the palace.

“Nope,” Zorael said in response to the noise, without stopping his work or lifting his head.
“I’m not doing it.”

A loud smash was heard in the distance. Zorael froze suddenly, lowered his head with a gentle sigh, and snapped his hand in a dejected motion to repair the ice he knew lay broken.

As he set back to work, he heard loud footsteps thundering closer. The noise caused by the vicious stampede tore through the halls, until its source crashed through the lab’s doorway and poised threateningly at Zorael.

“Fight me!”, the beast roared.

“Not right now, Behemoth. I’m busy,” Zorael said calmly in reply, still fitting together the bones of a vaguely avian skeleton.

Having finally refined what he found to be a perfect musculature, Zorael couldn’t help but create an explosion of life with it. Built as a final test to push the muscle design’s power to the limit, Behemoth was by far the strongest he created. Named and modeled after God’s pet, this beast surged with power.
It resembled both an ox and a great ape. Strong hooves supported thick, short legs which stood proud as they lifted the beast. A long, thin tail ran behind the beast and ended in a thick tuft of fur. Wide hips and thick shoulders supported powerful muscles. Massive arms ended in mighty fists, and were coated in dense fur. A mighty mane colored a deep red flowed from its head down to the middle of its back. Mighty horns curled upwards, threatening to rip the ceiling apart. Striking fierce eyes and a thick snout adorned its face, sporting a snarl bearing fierce canine teeth.

“Why don’t you wrestle with Rahab?”, Zorael said dismissively as he tinkered with his bones.
“The snake is weak. I need a real test of my strength!” Behemoth replied, with the same strength as when he entered the lab.
Zorael turned his head back over to his cat’s perch as he spoke: “Bootsie, can you…”
He found the perch empty. Hearing a faint noise, he turned his head to the back door to see a shadow scamper through the threshold.

Zorael lowered his head and pinched the top of his nose, dispelling some of the pressure building in his head.

“Alright, alright. It’s my duty to keep you fit, anyway. Meet me in the ballroom.”

Behemoth arced his back and gave a victorious roar. He spun in a lunge and stampeded through the hallways, smashing against the side of the doorway and cracked the floor underneath him. Zorael walked calmly after him, swishing his finger around to mend the damage he passed.


As he entered the ballroom’s doorway, he found his creation pounding on the ground as he waited.

“You’re slow!” he bellowed as he noticed Zorael walking through.

Zorael calmly walked up to the beast.
“Are you ready?” he asked, shifting his weight to one side and letting his arms dangle at his sides.
“Strike!” the beast roared in reply.

Zorael closed his eyes. A short moment later, a torrent of water soared through the air, and stopped above the two in an oval ring. Small bursts came from Zorael’s left and right, and stopped just before hitting him. The water on his left formed into a kite shield, which bound itself to his arm and froze. The water on his right froze into a star tipped partisan, which he reached out and grabbed before opening his eyes. He simultaneously lifted the shield calmly up to his stomach, lowered his lance’s head to the ground behind him, and shifted his right foot behind his left in a slow movement.
Seeing the familiar signs of his creator readying for combat, Behemoth slammed his fists together twice before punching them both into the ground, preparing his body for sudden movement.

Zorael stepped forward, moving into a sprint. Behemoth responded immediately, lunging forward and raising his fist.

Zorael dove down, allowing Behemoth’s fist to shoot past him. Keeping his forward movement, Zorael shot back up and thrust his lance into Behemoth’s side. The lance shattered immediately against the beast’s muscles, with only a few shards sticking any deeper than an inch. Ignoring the strike, Behemoth reared back with a mighty cross punch. Zorael barely dodged with a spin, using swift footwork to aid in his defense. Behemoth threw a flurry of wild hook punches and hammerhand strikes, giving Zorael little choice but to keep his distance while he reformed a weapon. As he went on the defensive, he formed a saber above his attacker and sent it toward himself. As it flew, a deluge of water bolts flew at Behemoth’s thick hide. Though they seemed to have little effect, it provided just enough of a distraction for Zorael to rearm himself.

Armed with a sword and a shield, Zorael re-entered the fray. He dove and wove through his attacker’s strikes, waiting for him to make himself vulnerable. His chance came when the beast lost his balance after a backfist, exposing his torso to an attack. Zorael kept him off balance with a cannon blast from either side, and used the chance to dive inside of a massive hammerhand. An inward slice to the chest, and outward slice to the thigh, and a pommel to the ribs were all he could do before his weapon cracked. He leapt back to repair his weapon, only to be caught in an elbow strike. He shielded the blow, and used its energy to push himself back as his shield shattered.

As Zorael took several hops back, Behemoth charged forward. Zorael sidestepped the charge, and sent a mighty bolt of water to attempt to keep the beast off balance. Strong enough to shatter the glass under their feet, the bolts had barely an effect on the charging creature as he spun and restarted his charge. They danced for a moment, as Zorael attempted to rearm himself while avoiding being gored or trampled. Ineffectual bolts of water crashed through the air and splashed on the beast’s fur as he charged, doing nothing to slow it.

Behemoth spun as he rampaged, keeping his facing toward Zorael. Fully expecting him to dodge again, he allowed his water to bounce off him and gave another charge. As he did, the ground beneath Zorael exploded into mist, and obscured Behemoth’s sight. Above him, Zorael grasped hold of another saber, and thrust his damaged one into an awaiting orb of water. With a newly forged saber in his left hand and a freshly repaired saber in his right, he fell gracefully to the ground in a crouch, and spun to face Behemoth. Finding his prey, Behemoth spun to face him in turn. They both charged forward, clearing the ground between them quickly.

Long before they clashed, Zorael sent a dozen disks of water at Behemoth. Expecting them to crash against his hide, they instead froze around him, and spun so that their flat edge faced him. Instead of lunging at Behemoth, Zorael instead jumped on top of an awaiting disk, and lunged to a disk facing his enemy’s back. The disk pushed him forward, magnifying the strength of his attack as he struck the Behemoth’s shoulder. He landed on another disk, allowing him to shoot out again and strike at his ribs. He struck like this again and again, until his torso felt Behemoth’s palm.

He grabbed on to Zorael, raised him high, and smashed him against the ground. His back took the blow full on, locking his lungs from breathing. Unable to scramble to his feet, he was helpless as he watched Behemoth’s fist rise above his face. He slammed his fist down, smashing the ice underneath it.

Zorael sputtered in an attempt to catch his breath, as he watched Behemoth unlock his fist from the ground beside him.
He relaxed. The fight was over. There wasn’t any reason to go on.

Behemoth rose both his fists into the air, and gave a mighty roar which resonated through the hall. From the walls came echoing calls of the beasts caged in the rooms above them, hollering in response to Behemoth’s victory cry. Behemoth gave several more cries, slamming his fists and his chest, before he was satisfied with his victory. He lumbered away, leaving Zorael to recover.

He relaxed his breathing. He spread his water across the floor, smoothing the cracks and craters caused by the fight. He sent his water away to the ocean outside, and adjusted his robe. And as if what had happened was a common placed annoyance, he complained to himself as he left the room.

“Agh… He really needs a brother…”[/spoiler-box]

Author's Notes:
[spoiler-box]Have you ever fought a four person boss in PSO2 ten levels higher than you? This is how it feels. You master their motions, and can see an attack coming seconds before it happens. You gracefully deflect or otherwise negate their attacks, and pound on them with everything you have. And still, one unseen attack is all it takes to fall, ruining ten or twenty minutes of your time.

Anyway, I said I owed you guys after the last boring chapter, so here's Zorael soloing a Behemoth. I wanted to showcase Zorael's fighting style, as well as the personality of the beasts he's creating and how much stronger they've gotten. As with the last several centuries, there's no real plot going on. But now that I have characters with conflicting needs, I can at least do interesting things.
This, as always, is a short snapshot of a day in the life. I've still got a few more of these before moving on. Also, ice weapons suck. Zorael needs an upgrade.

And, sorry about the delay. I've been sick. For a long time. It's nothing serious, so I don't know why it's not going away. Glad I've finally got the energy to finish this segment. I've been sitting on it half finished for a week or two.[/spoiler-box]

Twelfth Dream: The Price of Perfection, part 3 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3104584&postcount=135)

[stukasa]

[spoiler-box]So Zorael's creating beasts stronger than him now? They may not match his angel powers but they at least outmatch him in brute strength. He should be careful if he keeps this up, sooner or later he may create something problematic that he can't deal with!

And yes, I would imagine ice weapons aren't very effective against tough opponents like Behemoth. I'm interested to see what you come up with for his "upgrade." :D

When you said Bootsie was gone from her perch, for a second I though she was going to fight Behemoth. That would be pretty awesome if she were secretly super strong and could take down Behemoth without much trouble. xD

P.S. Get well soon![/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

[spoiler-box]When you said Bootsie was gone from her perch, for a second I though she was going to fight Behemoth. That would be pretty awesome if she were secretly super strong and could take down Behemoth without much trouble. xD[/spoiler-box]

[spoiler-box]<.<

>.>

^w^[/spoiler-box]

[CelestialBlade]

[spoiler-box]That was an exciting fight scene and I love your descriptions and creativity in Zorael's attacks. Those weren't just describing pre-existing PSO2 techs, they were unique and clever.

There's something about fighting something way stronger than you, knowing one slip-up could end the battle. I love playing action-RPGs on harder difficulties for that very reason.[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

[spoiler-box]Well to be fair, I've had quite a lot of time to come up with attacks. While many of the things I'm writing I'm coming up with as I write, Zorael's attacks have been around for a while. I think most of the stuff I wrote on that chapter, I've fantasized about while skipping schoolwork.
The trouble is his fighting style. I'm only just now formalizing Zorael's personality, and I think I'm rubberbanding through a few personalities as I write. I think I'm settling on a french fighting style, but it's still tough imagining him move. I guess I need to experiment on this a bit more.

And, as for tough boss fights... Why do you have to restart the mission when you fail? Just let me telepipe to him when I fail, like I did in PSO. Running through two blocks isn't helping me practice![/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

You know, looking at my friend's thread, I have to say I'm really jealous of the way he takes compliments. Me? I'm trying to continue an intellectual conversation, trying to exchange facts and ideas. Him? "Hehe, thanks." Like really, why can't I be like that? "You like my work? Thanks, that means alot to me." That's really what I'm thinking. And yet I say things like "Oh, well I've had time to think about it..."

[CelestialBlade]

I like your responses better than that, though.

[Zorafim]

Thanks. That really means a lot to me.
Go to sleep Chels

[CelestialBlade]

Thanks. That really means a lot to me.
Go to sleep Chels
But it's morning for me :(

[stukasa]

Just be yourself and don't worry about it. If it bothers you that much you can always say both things, you know. No one said you can't give thanks *and* continue the conversation. But if you're responding to the same people all the time, it's probably not necessary to thank them for each comment anyway.

[Zorafim]

Twelfth Dream: The Price of Perfection, part 3

[spoiler-box]An ornate mass of tissue hangs above the lab, encased in glass and suspended in water. From it, three lines fall as wires, and connect to three more shapeless masses encased in their own glasses across various tables. Each mass has another wire leading out of it, into a final glass jar set beside each.
Zorael stood in the middle of the mess. His head fell in concentration, and a spark lit above him. The blob above twitched, and sent a signal through its three chords. The three organs below received the signals, and the vat beside each turned orange.

“…they all look the same.”

Zorael slumped over his desk, resting himself on his hands. Muscles, bones, those seem easy now in hindsight. Nerves, those took a while to master.
But how would he even begin to perfect a brain?

“He built the universe, from nothing. Then he waited ten billion years for the right planet. Half a billion years for life, after that. From that, two and a half million for complex life. Four hundred million more for animals, four hundred million more still for mammals, and two million after that for his chosen humans.
He waited fourteen billion years to get what he wanted. I can’t quit after six hundred.”

He slid his arms down in front of him, and rested his head on them with a quiet thud.

“But how am I supposed to advance? All these brains are the same. I can’t think of a single way to improve on the human design…”

“Tired,” he heard from behind him. Turning around, he saw Bootsie looking at him through half lidded eyes.
“You’re always tired,” he said, turning back to his slump. “You’ve never complained about it before.”
“Not me,” she replied. “You. Too much work. Little rest.”
“Wha… no, no. This body doesn’t need rest. I made yours different.”
“And the mind?”

He turned back to her gaze, her eyes still half closed. She returned the gaze only for a second, before adjusting her head to face the corner of the room. He pondered her suggestion for a moment, staring at her as if some clue was hidden on her coat.
She rose slightly, tilted her body forward, and jumped from her perch with a throaty groan. She turned to the door leading upstairs, and walked in an elegant four legged gait.

Zorael rested on his desk, leaning against it as he peered out the window. Exotic fish swam in brightly colored schools. Glowing jellyfish floated through the water, leaving elegant ribbons of tentacles behind them. An occasional large animal swam swiftly through the schools, disrupting their flows.
Zorael gave a sigh, and pushed off the table with his hip. Following after his cat, he walked up the stairs to the main hall.

Ascending the stairs, he paused near one of his rooms. Peering through, he checked on a pair of tubes, each growing a body. Each was human: lean, young, and silver haired. They were nearly identical, and each looked like a younger version of the body he currently inhabited. From working on them, he knew the differences. One had a stronger bone structure, and the other had stronger muscles. They were experimental designs, and would lead to healthier bodies in the future if they had no major flaws. Of course, it was hard to spot the flaws until it was too late.
A quick glance, and he was satisfied with their growth. Hopefully this batch came out well. A few more improvements, and maybe he’ll be able to spar against his pets without such embarrassing defeats.

Vibrations ran through the stairways. Sounding like faraway explosions, they shook the foundations of the building. Some tremors left the walls humming random harmonic notes.

Zorael walked to the top, and over to where he knew the tremors originated from. In the next grand room, two of his creatures engaged in a fearsome dual. Behemoth, his strongest masterpiece, charged wildly through the spacious room, hunting his target. Ziz, his swiftest masterpiece, dodged attacks and countered with swift swipes of his own.

Ziz, named again after one of God’s pets, was created sometime after Behemoth. Satisfied with power, Zorael instead focused on flow. Experimenting with skeletal forms and skeleton-muscle interactions, Zorael began to create creatures which best used the strong muscles they were gifted with. Ziz was created to test this knowledge to the limit.
With powerful legs and tail, and smooth body and neck, the creature resembled a large predatory bird. Thick, wild feathers ran down the creature, from head to tail. A large, powerful beak ran along the bird’s long mouth, with short dagger-like teeth lining the inside of the mouth. Its glare was fierce, as if marking a target for a kill. Its eyes were golden, with its pupils running down as a black strip. Its body was low as it ran, nearly parallel to the floor. Claws came from the middle of the bird’s wings, allowing it to swipe at or cling to its opponent. Thick legs ended in fierce talons, which tore into the ground and slashed as it attacked. Balancing its forward facing front end was a long tail, lined with large and downy feathers.
The creature was equal parts bird, gryphon, and dinosaur. Fierce and elegant, strong and enduring, swift and powerful. It stood easily as one of Zorael’s masterpieces.

Like in legends of old, the two beasts fought fiercely and tirelessly. Zorael calmed his walk’s pace as he passed the room, enjoying the fight as he wandered. Before long, he noticed another of his creations peering in as well.

“Narcissa? You’ve never shown interest in these two before.”
“I wanted to dance,” she replied simply, keeping her attention on the fight.

The most recent of Zorael’s masterpieces, this one was built upon the knowledge of the previous two, and designed to maximize neuromuscular communication. Her reflexes, motions, and grace were unparalleled among Zorael’s creations.
Beautiful in form, she resembled an inverted flower. Her legs were tiny stems, long and thin and ending in a point. From her waist grew a skirt like petals; each petal a different, vibrant color. She had a delicate waist and thin chest, and a pair of arms which grew long and stretched flat like leaves. On her thin neck was a featureless face, green like the rest of her body.
Her voice was like silk rubbed against glass; as ethereal and transparent as the glowing ice she walked on. Though fragile looking and encumbered, her movements were smooth and graceful. Her skirt moved on its own, as if blowing in some unfelt wind. Her body in motion was a thing of beauty. It was a shame to see her standing still as she waited.

“There’s no reason to wait for this room. You could simply use another one,” Zorael suggested.
“This room is spacious. This room is lovely. I will wait for this room,” Narcissa said in reply.
Zorael didn’t press. He simply turned his head, and enjoyed the fight in front of him.

Behemoth and Ziz charged at each other. Behemoth reared a mighty punch, while Ziz leapt into the air. Before he could lash with his talons, he took a punch squarely in the lower torso. The impact sent him flying back. Landing on his feet, he slowed his movement by digging his talons into the floor and skidding to a halt. He ended with his legs spread wide and his back arced low, opening his wings threateningly and screeching a wordless threat as his opponent charged at him for a follow up strike.

Ziz leapt into the air again, staying afloat on his wings to stay above Behemoth’s attacks. He dove down again and again, cutting Behemoth’s arms as he blocked the onslaught. Behemoth reached out aimlessly as he defended, until he chanced across Ziz’ talon. He fastened his grasp, and flung Ziz across the room and into a wall. Behemoth charged after his target with his horns lowered. He smashed into the wall, just milliseconds after Ziz pushed away from it. Ziz sprinted away, looking for an opening in Behemoth’s defenses as he chased after him.

Zorael was captivated by the fight. Though their style was savage and unpolished, each fighter fought with skill and strength which no beast could match. Though he dreaded cleaning up the mess afterwards, he knew neither would hurt each other deeply. They both lived to fight, and they knew they found the perfect partners in each other. Any gashes or bruises they sustained would heal as they rested.

Zorael left the hallway with a smile on his face, leaving a wordless farewell to his flower as she waited her turn. He traced his steps back to his lab, with a slight spring to his step, and studied his unfinished work.
He motioned to some corner of the room, and a tablet flung into his hands. He lowered his writing hand, grasping a writing utensil which appeared as if from nowhere, and wrote on his tablet.
He managed to sketch a few ideas down. Ones which may progress his work.
His progress would be slow, but he would still progress.
[/spoiler-box]

Author's Notes:
[spoiler-box]Here, I shoehorned in a Ziz for you.
Okay, okay. I wanted to add him in anyway. Helps build a motif for later, though it's unfortunately hard to continue.
It was fairly easy to come up with a design for Ziz, since I haven't seen anyone else try, and so I didn't have to worry about stealing from anyone. He's described as a predatory bird, which looks similar to a gryphon. Instead, I took an archeopteryx, and strengthened both the dinosaur and bird parts of it.

Narcissa, I admit took liberties on. I got the idea from Pokemon's Gardivoir, which has a skirt which is part of its body and leaf looking arms and hair. I took this idea to the extreme, and designed an entire creature to look like a flower.
As for the name... Narcissus was so beautiful that he starved to death staring at his reflection. Some myths say a flower grew from his corpse, as a sign of his enduring beauty. I had a surprisingly tough time coming up with a name of a beautiful creature, and christian mythology is surprisingly lacking in mythical creatures which aren't demons or angels, so I had to make due.

And fun fact. Last subchapter, I had Zorael working on the body. This one, he's working on a mind. I had a tough time coming up with ways to test out a mind, so I thought back to my training. If you want to test different designs for objects that do the same thing, just have the same input go into each design, and see what they output. I figure brains work the same way, even those as incomplete as Zorael's current designs. [/spoiler-box]

Twelfth Dream: The Price of Perfection, part 4 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3109296&postcount=137)

[stukasa]

[spoiler-box]Despite what Zorael says, I think he really does need rest. You know what they say: Sometimes when you can't think of a solution you just need to step back and take a break and then the answer will come to you. I guess that's what he did in this chapter, if you count watching a monster battle as "taking a break." :lol: He should really create his own Pokemon team! About Narcissa, I was also thinking of Pokemon when you described her, but I was imagining something more like Bellossom (http://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Bellossom_%28Pok%C3%A9mon%29) crossed with Lilligant (http://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Lilligant_%28Pok%C3%A9mon%29).

P.S. When you first talked about the monster fight you said "dual" instead of "duel."[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

Twelfth Dream: The Price of Perfection, part 4

[spoiler-box]“I can create a perfect body. Powerful, swift, or graceful, I can make whatever form I want.”

Zorael stood in the middle of a spacious room. In one end, Narcissa‘s flowery figure glided across a stage raised to allow any onlooker a clear view of her form. Surrounding Zorael were three large objects, shaped almost like thrones and turned to face him.
He spoke loudly and clearly, and gestured as if he was giving a presentation.

“I can create a perfect mind. Logical, knowledgeable, or creative, I can craft whatever ideas I desire.”

From the shapes surrounding him came movements. A twitch, or a gentle motion, came from the edge of the shapes. And restful fits came from their centers.

“Yet even my greatest of creations are hollow. Their creativity is dry, as they do not have passion. Their knowledge is forced, as they do not have desire. I pour my love into the growth of each of my creations, yet they are incapable of returning even a fraction of this love. As much skill as I put into each being, they are still soulless. And I am unable to give them the souls that they need to thrive.

Da Vinci. Any ideas on how to correct this?”

Zorael turned to face one of the objects surrounding him. It was supported on a rock-like pillar, colored a vibrant orange and rough in texture. Resting on top of this short, thick pillar was a soft bed of pink, fleshy and smooth. The bed ruffled at its edges, forming into tentacles which waved in the air as if being guided by the ebb and flow of the ocean’s current. Beginning as the vibrant pink of the bed’s center, these tentacles lightened in a gradient into a translucent blue, ending in thin points.
From the center of the bed grew a mass, rising out of the anemone. And on this mass rested the human-like torso of an old man, growing out as part of the mass behind him. Fine tentacles of a translucent blue grew from his head as a thick beard and hair, giving him a wise appearance.
He moved his right arm, as vibrant pink as the bed he laid on, to stroke his beard as he pondered the question asked to him. He then gestured enthusiastically as he spoke his reply.

“You need a soul to create the genius and enthusiasm you crave. And you say you cannot create a soul, nor can you obtain one. But, what is a soul? Is it not just an object which claims control over the mind, in such a way that the mind claims control over the body? If this is true, then the question becomes easier.
The question now becomes this: How can one create a mind which works independently from the soul, in such a way that the body works independently from the mind? Surely we do not need our mind to breathe, or lift a hand from a fire. The body has many reflexes, which are performed without the aid of the mind. Can we, then, create mental reflexes, in which the mind performs without the aid of the soul?
I look around me, and say we can. Behemoth and Ziz lock eternally in combat, for their love of the fight. And before me dances lovely Narcissa, for love of the arts. Are these not desires brought about by the soul? Then we have proven the soul is not needed! We need only a sufficiently sculpted mind for our works.”

“Emulate the effects of the soul using a mind?” spoke Zorael. “It would be taxing. But my minds have gotten much stronger than before. It may be possible.
Alexander, what do you think?”

To Da Vinci’s right was a monstrous mass of black and red. Contrasting Da Vinci’s inviting colors, this mass had a foreboding feel. Yet, it also gave out a regal strength.
Instead of resting on the ground like Da Vinci, Alexander was supported on six, powerful legs. Black, chitinous armor coated each segment on each leg. The legs met on a round body segment, which had thin deep red stripes running down it. Behind the front body segment was one more, so large that it rested on the ground from its weight. And sitting on the frontal body segment was a humanoid torso, like Da Vinci’s.
The armor protecting this torso was gave the shape of a large, muscular man. Detailed abs ran up to large pectorals, which moved large shoulders and shapely arms. These arms were folded, and a stern face lowered deep in thought.
Finally, the head rose, and Alexander spoke with strength and authority.

“It should work. You would have to sacrifice mental strength, and you would have to implant exactly what kind of stuff you want each creation to do. But it’s possible.”

“How would you suggest going about it?” Zorael inquired.

Alexander responded: “You would know better than I would. But, I would start with something which doesn’t need much mental strength. You already have some creatures with base instincts, as Da Vinci has already stated. Just make those instincts more complex, and you should get something like the emotions you’re looking for.”

“A simple solution… almost feels like it’s cheating. That can’t be all there is to a soul. Lovelace? Do you think it’ll work?”

Finishing the circle around Zorael was a large clamshell, colored a light blue. From atop the bottom half of the shell came a web-like mass of flesh, colored a deep purple. From this mass, eight thick tentacles reached out from the shell, reaching out slowly and randomly. The central mass rose in a bulbous form, like the head of an octopus. Coming out of this form was the torso of a woman. Long hair made of tendrils came from her head, twitching and reaching like the legs reaching out from her shell. Her muscles were built and tone. But her posture and expression were relaxed and vacant.
She spoke with a soft, expressionless voice.

“Based on our current designs, a base design is possible. I do not have the information to accurately predict the plausibility of your requested design, however.”

“Draw me up an example of what you have in mind. Let me see what you have,” Zorael requested.

Lovelace reached behind her, and pulled out an item with a loud crack. She pulled out a tablet, seemingly made of shell. She etched onto the tablet with her finger, leaving a clear line with each stroke.

Zorael looked on, waiting for her to finish a design. As he did, Narcissa continued dancing before him.
She leapt from side to side, gracefully supporting herself despite her frail looking form. She spun smoothly, raising a knee above her waist as her skirt rose from the circular movement. As she swung side to side, her arms rose to the air and followed her movements like leaves in the wind. She moved through an improvised repertory, betraying no effort through feats of strength and intense coordination.

“Here it is,” Lovelace interrupted.

Zorael snapped his attention back to Lovelace, after realizing he let Narcissa distract him. Lovelace held the tablet into one of her tentacles, and sent it to Zorael. He took the tablet in his hand and glanced over the etched design.

“The design’s very simple,” was his response.

“I can guarantee this design will work. Anything past this, I cannot without additional information,” was her reply. “I know you do not like risks when you work.”

“You’re right,” he said, thinking back to past mistakes with a grimace. “I’ll give this design a test, and let you know how we should continue.
Thank you all for your help.”

Lovelace withdrew her tentacles back into her shell, and folded herself as her shell closed.
Alexander punched a fist into his palm, and bowed to Zoreal. His legs curled inward as he rested his body on the floor.

“I thank you for the opportunity to work on such fascinating subjects, creator,” said Da Vinci.
“Heh. I should be thanking you. You’re speeding up my work considerably,” replied Zorael.
Da Vinci replied: “I am glad I can be of service.”
“Aren’t you going to sleep too?” asked Zorael.
Da Vinci looked over Zorael, and glanced at Narcissa. She bent over backwards, keeping one leg in the air to balance her body curling backwards.
“I think not. Not while this beauteous form graces me with her movements.”

Zorael smiled in reply. He turned away, and left the room. With this tablet in his arms, he would begin another arduous research project. Who knows how long this one will take?[/spoiler-box]

Author's notes:
[spoiler-box]Each creature I introduce in this dream each has a central strength. The first three are clearly established. Did I build each of these three enough to give the reader enough information to guess their strengths? Their names are major clues.

I really looked forward to this one. It was really a challenge. I always knew I wanted to introduce a creation for each human strength. I never established what form this strength would be given, however. So I get to come up with creature designs, while simultaneously pushing my philosophical expression. So, despite me not actually spending much time writing this segment, I put a lot into planning it.

Along with each creation having a human strength, each one also belongs to a family of animal. I'm unfortunately going to have to break that next segment, but I think I ran out of families anyway.
Behemoth is mammal, Ziz is dinosauria, Lovelace is mollusk, Alexander is arthropod, and Da Vinci is medusazoa. Narcissa is, um, plant. Yeah, I kinda dropped the ball with her.[/spoiler-box]

Twelfth Dream: The Price of Perfection, part 5 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3111534&postcount=143)

[stukasa]

[spoiler-box]I was wondering when you'd post a new chapter. :D It feels like Zorael's come a long way since the early days of experimentation. He's got this thing almost mastered by now!

I didn't notice that each creation was from a different family, that's pretty neat! And that's why I like reading the notes, because authors often put things in their stories that readers won't always pick up on, but are fun to know.

Hmm, Behemoth = strength, Ziz = speed/agility, Narcissa = beauty?[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

[spoiler-box]I hope seeing this makes all those short chapters of throwing away all those worms and crabs worth it. He still has a few things to sort out, but he can't really get too much better than he is now.

You basically have the physical trio. Narcissa is supposed to be control, which is just as hard to build as speed and strength. But, she displays this control as beauty.
Now that you've got the physical trio, care to give a stab at the mental trio?[/spoiler-box]

[stukasa]

[spoiler-box]Da Vinci = knowledge/wisdom, Alexander = reasoning/planning, Lovelace = creativity?

Da Vinci seems like an 'ideas' man, Alexander sorts out how to make it work, and Lovelace turns the idea into a design. I'm assuming Da Vinci comes from Leonardo, Alexander comes from The Great, and Lovelace comes from Richard?[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

[spoiler-box]I guess it's hard to put differing types of intelligence into neat little boxes. I guess I should have spelled it out a bit more, but I wanted to try to be more subtle about it.

I looked at the schools of a college for ideas on how to separate the mind. Mainly, they're separated into the school of arts and the school of sciences. Generalizing, one makes you more creative, while the other makes you more logical.
Using this, I tried to find some historic heroes which exemplified these traits. Lovelace was an easy one. The name comes from Ada Lovelace, a 19th century mathematician who is attributed to being the first computer programmer. She was my first design, and canonically the first mental masterpiece. Her dialogue is simple both in reference to how programmers tend to talk, and in reference to how much like a computer her thinking is. She's supposed to be the logical one.
Her intelligence is again referenced in her animal choice. Octopi have a complex nervous system, to manage all their tentacles at the same time. They're also known for being able to manipulate objects, such as unscrewing a jar to open it. And of course, the mimic octopus is well known for its ability to see and imitate a variety of animals.
The shell is there, basically, to prevent her from moving. I could have made her one of those shelled squid which google is failing to give me the name of, but the clam shell seemed more inviting, and I wanted to diversify the family in her.

In the opposite side of the spectrum is Da Vinci, and you made me realize that Leonardo would have been a much better name. While I had a strong link to Lovelace, there are just so many artists to chose from that I basically just chose the one with the least awkward name to give an animal. Like you said, he freely comes up with ideas. They aren't always accurate, but it's not his job to make them work.
While he was my second design, he's canonically the youngest of the three. Of the three mental strengths, creativity seems the hardest to grasp, and so the hardest to create in a mind. While the other two creature designs are based on what kind of intelligence the creature has, I instead made Da Vinci as beautiful a creature as I could. Since coral and jellyfish look like they jumped out from paintings, I thought they would fit the artist of the group best.

And finally, Alexander. Even with a strong sense of logic and creativity, I realized a person would not be complete without knowing basic facts. So, Alexander is the masterpiece of knowledge. His mind isn't as quite as fast as Lovelace's or as free as Da Vinci's, but he retains information well and knows how to utilize it. So I guess you could say, it's more about memory than knowledge.
It was hard to tie in an animal family to knowledge, so I had to cheat a bit. I realized that a leader is the type of person who benefits from knowledge the most. He spends his youth learning what he needs, then uses that knowledge to organize his kingdom.
With the thought of a kingdom in mind, the insect quickly came to mind. They're some of the simplest animals, but swarming insects still have impressive group dynamics. A kingly figure also diversifies both the knowledge trio and the rest of the masterpieces, so everything seemed to click.


And that's why it took me so long to come out with this chapter. Luckily, I think I have all the heavy thinking out of the way until at least the end of this dream. And I should be free for a week and a half, so hopefully I can get a few chapters out of the way.[/spoiler-box]

[CelestialBlade]

[spoiler-box]Each creation representing a different "family" was an awesome idea, and I did pick up on the names for the most part. Behemoth, Narcissa, Da Vinci, and Alexander were the most obvious to me.

I'm excited for your next chapter, sounds like something big :O[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

Twelfth Dream: The Price of Perfection, part 5

[spoiler-box]“Are you ready to wake up, little Mary?”

Zorael stood in a cramped room, cluttered with various undecipherable objects. The most noticeable were large clear tubes, lined in diagonal rows. Normally filled with creatures awaiting birth, each tank was empty save for one.

Facing the center of the room was the only occupied tube. In it, was the small form of a young girl. Atop her head was short curled white hair, giving the impression of fleece. The front of her head was adorned by two little nubs, barely rising above the hair they rested in. Her sleeping face was rounded, giving a pure look to the child. From her shoulders fell what looked like a dress, made from the same wool as the hair on her head and which fell to just above her knees. That same wool lined the area between her wrists and her elbows, and between her ankles and her knees.

“Um…”

Zorael turned to face the sudden voice, and his face warmed in recognition.

He faced another of his prized creations. She was almost as tall as he was, though had a considerably more delicate frame. Her face sported a meek smile, and her eyes didn’t quite meet his. She stood with feet close together and shoulders pinching forward, taking as little space as she could.
All her head save her face was hidden by a veil, made of feathers colored a dull grey, which fell to the middle of her back. Her body was similarly covered by a feathered shawl, hiding her arms and torso from view. And hiding behind that was a modest dress, hiding everything behind its dull grey color and simple design.

“Is she ready?” she asked, holding on to the doorframe for support.

“Almost,” answered Zorael. He extended a hand invitingly toward her as he continued: “It should be any minute now, if you’re interested in staying.”

She walked forward with a demure gait, and gently reached for his hand. Zorael took it, and guided her to the front of the tube.

“She’s lovely,” she remarked, as she looked at the unborn child.
“I think the same thing when I see each of my creations fully grown like this,” he said in reply.
“Until this point, they’re just an abstract thought. But when I see them like this, just before they open their eyes… My heart swells with pride. I can still remember when you took your first breaths, how beautiful you were…”

She lowered her head slightly to hide a growing smile. Zorael caught the motion, and smiled in return as he rubbed her shoulder in understanding.

From the tank in front of them came a gentle motion. The girl inside stirred. Her eyes opened slowly, and she took her first glances around the room.
Zorael raised his free hand. The glass confining the girl parted, and the water suspending her gently floated away in droplets.
She looked down, to check her footing as she stood for the first time. Then she looked up, and spoke her first word.

“…daddy?”
Zorael smiled warmly in response. “Yes, that’s right.”
She smiled broadly and repeated: “Daddy!”

She darted forward and flung herself at him. He released his hold on his companion as the child made impact, and stepped back to absorb the force of her lunge. She clung to him tightly, rubbing her head into his stomach. He gently wrapped his arms around her in response, caressing her back tenderly.
She turned her face up to look at Zorael, with eyes shining brightly, and asked: “What are we going to do today?”
He looked down to her warmly and replied: “That’s up to you.”

She lightened her grip and turned her head to Zorael’s companion, left out of this exchange until now.
“Who are you?” she asked.
Zorael answered her: “This is your older sister, Theresa.” And he turned his head to Theresa as he said, “Theresa, meet Mary.”
“Uwaa… You’re so pretty~” commented Mary.

Theresa smiled in response. She extended a gentle hand out to Mary. Mary responded by lunging from Zoreal to Theresa, grasping on to her as tightly as she did to Zorael before. After recovering from the initial shock, Theresa put a hand on her shoulder, and stroked her wooly hair with her other hand.

“Kitty!” shrieked Mary, suddenly. Theresa raised her hands from Mary as she looked down in shocked confusion. Bootsie darted her head toward the room at the sudden noise, freezing mid-step. Mary ran for the cat, causing Bootsie to run for safety.

Mary stopped at the doorway, moping for the fleeing cat. Zoreal stepped forward, chuckling, and snapping his fingers in a quick rhythm. Bootsie stopped, and walked back to Zorael.

“She doesn’t like commotion,” he commented. “You have to be gentle with her. See?”
He extended a hand to the cat. She stepped forward, just within arm’s length. He began to stroke her head. And despite the expressionless look on her face, she began to purr.
“Why don’t you try?” he said, inviting her for a second chance.

Mary carefully walked toward Bootsie. She cautiously lifted her hand, and set it on the cat’s head as Zorael switched to scratching under her chin. She began stroking, and Zorael stepped away to give her space.

Zorael walked back to Theresa, who stepped barely out of the door’s threshold. He placed a loving hand around her shoulder as he watched. Mary leaned over Bootsie, now lying on her stomach on the floor, and rubbed her fur with both hands. He glanced at Theresa, watching the scene with the same joy he was.

‘I have a modest woman in my arm, and am watching a child lovingly express her affection. I’m almost ready…’[/spoiler-box]

Author's notes:
[spoiler-box]I wasn't really motivated to write this chapter. Nothing really happens, besides me showing off Zorael's progress. But as I wrote this, my heart became all fluffy. There just aren't enough scenes which show how loving Zorael is. And I don't have enough cute characters.
I wanted to show off one extra Masterpiece to complete the set, but I didn't have anything for him to do. So I'm going to have to save him for later. [/spoiler-box]

Twelfth Dream: The Price of Perfection, part 6 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3113608&postcount=146)

[stukasa]

[spoiler-box]Mary's so cute! ^^ Zorael really seems like a family man in this chapter. I'm glad he didn't become a weirdo loner during those centuries of tedious research and experimentation.

When you first introduced Theresa I almost thought it might be Levia until you started describing her looks, then I thought, "probably not."[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

[spoiler-box]I'm sorry to get your hopes up. I'm glad you noticed the similarity, though. I promise not to introduce her that suddenly, though.

I'm still not sure what I want to do with Zoreal's personality. I always focused more on his abilities than his personality. With how I built him over these last few chapters, I suppose being a hermit would make sense. But he's also spent the first half his life (death?) in one giant party, and most of the second half visiting exotic locals, so... I don't know, would a social person become socially estranged if he spent the last ten years of his life alone in the woods?

And yeah, I liked writing for Mary. A little bit of my inner child came out when I thought out that scene. [/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

Twelfth Dream: The Price of Perfection, part 6

[spoiler-box]“Increasing the body size would increase strength and speed, but also increase energy consumption… is energy consumption a problem?”

Light glimmered out of the walls in the room in which Zorael resided. Cerulean rays danced across tables, filthy with discarded tablets. He slouched over a table, and sorted through varying design notes laid before him.

“Great size is impractical, though. And strength is unnecessary past a point. So a smaller design, then?”

A great shadow passed over the room, as the serpentine shape of a great beast glided in front of the window overlooking the shining abyss below.

“Logic, creativity, knowledge; these things work together well enough. I would need to streamline the information space to get them all to fit, but it’s manageable. But combining modesty, knowledge, and strength… that might take some work…”

The serpent circled, passing the window again from a further distance. The water was pristine, clearly giving an onlooker a clear view of the beast’s details. Its pectoral fins spread wide, like wings gliding across the sky. And its snaking movements pushed the creature forward swiftly.

“…will this work? The personality takes up a large amount of space, but still leaves enough room for information processing and storage… All three mental states are maximized, while the spiritual states are emulated adequately… unless I’m missing something…”

The snake twisted in the water, spinning its head around uncomfortably. As the top of its head faced the window, a vague shape appeared to be clinging to its neck.

“The physical states shouldn’t interfere with the mind, so I should be free to create any design I need without fear of-What am I looking at right now?”

Zoreal turned his head to Rahab, snaking around the waters in agitation. Atop his neck was a human-like figure, grasping fiercely in an attempt to stay on. His muscular form grew tense as currents pushed against him. The thick fur covering his legs and arms swayed with the waters, and his mighty mane looked nearly alive as it fluttered from the movements.

“…is that Peter? What is he doing?”

“Mary asked him to ride Rahab,” he heard a calm, feminine voice behind him.

Zorael was almost surprised to find Bootsie laying atop a table in a shadowed corner of the room. She gave no movement to catch the eye, save for a sporadic twitch of her tail.

“Mary asked him to jump on top of a giant sea monster, and he just went and did it?” Zorael asked incredulously.
“Is that surprising?” Bootsie retorted.
“…no, I suppose it’s not.” Zoreal replied.

Zorael looked back at the spectacle in the sea. Rahab twisted and turned, but Peter would not let good. It wasn’t until Rahab launched himself out of the water, and crashed back in, that the figure atop his neck dispersed.
Peter swam for the surface, while Rahab fled for the abyss. He made his way for the walkway outside the main gate, where Mary cheered, and launched herself at him when he finally climbed out of the water.

“I should have given those two some more common sense...” Zorael said, pressing his palm against his forehead.
He turned back to Bootsie and asked: “How long have you been sitting there, anyway?”
She replied: “You said something about size.”
“Right. I’m working on a new project. Actually, this is why I started this work in the first place. I wanted to make something as perfect as any angel in heaven. Something I could share my experiences with. Something that could match my strength, intelligence, and spiritual-“
“I don’t care,” Bootsie responded simply.

Zorael looked at her in surprise. She laid still against the glass table, resting her head against her arms and curling her body comfortably. From anyone else, her words would come across as an insult. But Zoreal knew her simple design inside and out. She simply wasn’t interested.

Zorael’s expression softened, and he chuckled.
“No, I guess you wouldn’t,” he said to her.
“ That’s why I’m doing this, after all,” he said to himself.

He went back to his designs.
Every body imaginable was available for him to create his project in. And every personality possible has his to craft.
“Human… I’ve created too many designs based on them. But, in the end… I guess that’s what I’ve always wanted.”

Zorael went back to his notes. He etched designs into tablets, and attempted to work out their functionality.
It wouldn’t be much longer now…[/spoiler-box]

Author's Notes:
[spoiler-box]Small chapter, I needed to set up for the next one. I also needed to squeeze Peter in somewhere.
I had trouble fitting him in. Media is all about courage, so how do you show off someone whose defining characteristic is his courage? I wanted to squeeze him in with Mary and Theresa, but he just had no roll to play. I wanted to show the three of them were close somehow, but I also wanted to build him as quickly as I could. I think I compromised nicely with this.

I also realized I didn't build up why Zorael stopped visiting planets and started making life correctly. I guess I kinda got engrossed in the how, and forgot about the why. So, there's a throwaway line up there for an explanation.

Expect a special chapter soon.[/spoiler-box]

Twelfth Dream: The Price of Perfection, part 7 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3118047&postcount=157)

[stukasa]

[spoiler-box]I felt like the last sentence, "It wouldn't be much longer now...," was actually directed at the readers, who know what's coming soon. :lol: At first I was a little confused about Peter, wondering if I should know who that's supposed to be. You've introduced a lot of Zorael's creations by now so I thought maybe I forgot about one, but I guess not. Also, I'm wondering what role these other creations will have once the "main star" is born. Will they continue to serve a purpose, perhaps (through their interactions) helping to shape the star's personality, or will they simply become background characters, rarely to be seen again?

Also, just to mention it, there should be a cameo spot open in my sequel if you're interested. I've got a pretty good framework for the story and I've already written a few thousand words, but I don't plan on releasing it for a while yet (months, probably), which should give you some time to introduce your new star and hopefully give me a better idea of how to write her (assuming you still want me to).[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

[spoiler-box]Oh, now I remember what I missed from the notes. I forgot to go more in depth with the spiritual trio.

Mary, Theresa, and Peter. The lamb, the dove, and the lion. This time, I modeled them after christian ideals and after animals which are often used symbolically in christian readings, and took the name from saints.

Mary is named after Jesus' mother, who is often prayed to for her kindness to the christian people. And the lamb is often symbolically used to refer to the people of earth, who must be treated with care and gentleness.

Theresa is named after the recently sainted Mother Theresa, who gave up her life of comfort to live in poverty to help the poor.
The dove is often symbolic of peace, and in this case represents humility.

Peter is named after Jesus' apostle, who became the first pope. Despite the heavy persecution of christians during the early years, Peter led his people until his eventual execution.
The lion obviously represents courage, as the male lion often has to stand against any dangers to his pride, and fighting lions are often used as tests of courage.

The designs this time around are probably the simplest of the three trios, with the masterpieces' personalities being drawn from their animal, and their clothing being styled from their animal. Mary is dressed in wool (I actually got the design from some of PSO2's clothing, like that ram hat), Theresa is dressed in feathers (while covering her head and torso, as an act of modesty), and Peter is dressed in his own fur.

As for their purpose once I get around to Levia, well... I just hope I can do that part right.


And yeah, I would love a cameo spot. It might take me a while until Levia is ready, but if I can make it, I would love a spot.[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

First Trip: The One where Things Happen, part 5

[spoiler-box]Zorael scurried through his kitchen, preparing a dinner for the guests he was expecting. His ice oven was preheating, and his ice stove was boiling water in an ice pot. All of this was hard, because it was all made of ice.
Soon, some dear friends were coming over to visit. He hadn’t seen them since the last time he saw them. Like all angels, they were vegetarians. Because it’s easy to swear off meat and feel good about yourself when you don’t have to eat. And they didn’t have to eat because they’re angels.
Angels are dead.

But because his friends were visiting his home, they were going to not be dead. Which is easier than it seems, really. You just have to stop being dead. But they were still vegetarians, and Zorael had to make them food. So, he planned out a purely vegetarian meal for them to eat.

After the ice oven stopped melting and became hot, Zorael left the room. He brought back a cow by its leash. It was a vegetable cow. So it makes vegetable meat. Vegetarians love vegetable meat.

Zorael killed the vegetable cow. Its vegetable blood spilled all over the floor, and it made a horrible scream as it vegetable died. He cut up the vegetable cow into flanks of vegetable steaks, and put them in the ice oven to cook.

Just as he did that, he heard a doorbell. He picked up his phone, because it had a doorbell ringtone.

“Hello?” Zorael inquired.
“Why are you answering your phone? I rang the doorbell,” he heard his friend say.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I have a doorbell ringtone on my phone,” he said in reply.
“Oh, I see. That’s a common mistake to make,” that guy he was talking to said.

Zorael went to the door and opened it. Which was easy because the door didn’t exist. He was so excited to see his friends, which I just now noticed I forgot to give names to. They’re angels, right? And angels names tend to end with el, right? Then how about Kal-el and Loriel?

“Kal-el! Loriel! It’s been so long!” Zorael said monotonously.
“You spelled my name wrong. It’s spelled ‘L’Oreal’,” Loriel said in reply.
“Oh, shoot. Then your name doesn’t end in el, and doesn’t make sense for an angel’s name. We’re going to have to think of something else then,” Zorael said like a pigeon.
“No, it’s fine,” L’oriel said. “Kal-el and I got married. I had my last name changed. I’m L’ore-el now.”
“Okay,” said Zorael, this time not like a pigeon.

Zorael showed him his ice palace, which I’m too lazy to describe again. I spent two chapters building it up. Go read those if you forgot what it looked like.

“And that’s what my ice palace looks like,” Zorael said audibly.
“What?” L-ori’el asked.
“I forget. Look at the line above what you said for what I said,” Zorael said inaudibly.
“That’s a good point,” said that person whose name I can’t spell.
“Segwaying awkwardly to a new subject to continue the plot, what would you two like for dinner?” Zorael asked as if he didn’t already cook something.
“Truth, Justice, and the American Way!” Kal-el said so I can get my Superman reference out of the way.
“Okay,” said Zorael.

The angel couple sat down on the ice chairs sitting under the ice table in the ice dining room. But the ice cracked and shattered, so they just got a sofa instead and sat on that.
Zorael came out soon after with the dinner. He served them all steaming plates of vegetable steaks.

“Thank you for making a purely vegetarian dinner. It’s sad to think that so many animals die just so that people can eat meat. It’s so much better eating not meat instead,” said somebody. I wasn’t paying attention to who was talking.
“Okay,” said Zorael. “I am going to get the sides so we don’t have a boring meal.”
“Levia!” whispered Zorael. “Get down here and say hello to our guests! Also get the rest of the food that I conveniently made off screen!”
Then Levia was in the room because why not.
“What am I doing in this chapter? You haven’t introduced me as a character yet!” Levia said logically.
“Zorafin wanted you in this special, and didn’t want to have to rush through your origin story,” Zorael retorted soundly.
“Actually, it’s spelled Zorafim. You can see the spelling right next to this post.” Levia guffawed.
“What’s a guffaw?” Zorael asked with passion.
“I’m not sure. Chuy used it once in his fanfic, and it looked fun to write,” Levia replied with words. “Here’s your food, by the way. I got it so we can start the next scene.”

Levia put several plates on the table. On them were some Truth, some Justice, and a bit of the American Way.

“We can’t eat that!” said Lor’ea-l, so I could get her name wrong. “They’re abstract concepts based on the ideals of a culture!”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Levia said in response. She then put a meat salad on the table, which there was room for because that other stuff doesn’t exist.

“Disgust!” Kal-el said in gasp. “I cannot eat that! It is not vegetable like this steak which you slaughtered a vegetable cow for!”
“Oh no, don’t worry,” said Zorael. “I grew the meat from a plant.”
“We cannot eat meat! But we will anyway because I don’t feel like adding conflict in this story,” Kal-el said even though it was my opinion.

Vegetable cow then walked in, even though they were eating him. He was wearing bitchen’ shades and a rad leather jacket. He said something about how hypocritical the situation was with some inspirational music playing in the background. He then walked away.

“Okay,” said Levia, because Zorael said it too many times already.

Everyone ate and said things, and did things people normally do at dinners. I don’t know what these things are because I always zone out when I have a dinner, so I can’t describe the scene to you. Just know that it was really lovely, and you appreciate reading it.

Fierce Ziz tore through the room, fluttering his mighty wings in an attempt to keep balance. Chasing after him was mighty Behemoth, muscles rippling as he charged forward. Ziz jumped high, and lashed at his foe with sharp claws and mighty fangs. Behemoth defended with his great arms, thick as tree trunks and twice as hard. He swiped and struck at his opponent, who was unable to land any solid blows. Finally, Behemoth found his hold on his opponent. He grabbed, and spun his body in a swift motion to throw Ziz out of the room. With the great bird tumbling out of the room, Behemoth charged forward, trampling out of the room and creating mighty quakes in his stead.

“That was gay,” said Lori’al.

I don’t feel like writing any more, so this chapter ends here. Please give my thread five stars.[/spoiler-box]

Author's Notes:
[spoiler-box]I thought I would like to the chapter of April Fool's Day for many months . Originally , I wanted a close friend of mine to write a chapter . However , to keep up to talk to him , so as not to be , he was not able to write anything that makes sense . So instead , I decided to write in the style of just him. I do not close to meaningless nowhere to me , but hopefully , I've got a job to me.

When I played Scribblenauts with him , I came a major inspiration for this I am . In one level , it was necessary to supply a vegetarian piranha that have I have some . So , I tried to make the cattle of vegetables . However , it did not go well , and I was not able to get an idea of vegetables outside of cattle of my head . So , the idea of seeing where you throw him in one of the chapter , my toy you are heading it . I am satisfied with the result , and I have to say .[/spoiler-box]

Artist's Depiction:
[spoiler-box]http://i.imgur.com/OwQHiMX.jpg[/spoiler-box]

First Trip: The One where Things Happen, part 6 (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dQw4w9WgXcQ)

[stukasa]

[spoiler-box]At first I was like, "what," and then I was like, "okay...," and then later I was like, "har har." No, but seriously, thanks for making an April Fool's joke that was fun and entertaining to read, unlike most of them, which tend to come at my expense.

So angels' names end with "-el," huh? In my story there was Nami'el and Kori'el, I guess they must've been angels too!

Also, I wonder if introducing one of your main characters in a joke chapter will throw off our perceptions of her later. Only time will tell~ :p[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

[spoiler-box]I love internet april fool's jokes. Mostly, the ones that make you go "...what?"

"el" can be literally translated as "God". Zorael can be translated to "dawn of God", and Michael is "Who is like God?". I guess Nami'el is "Divine God" and Kori'el is... "Fox God"?

I'm really hoping that Levia's introduction will be detailed enough to make you forget about what little personality I gave her this chapter. I was thinking about bringing back Torva as well, but, that didn't happen.[/spoiler-box]

[yoshiblue]

Manly Minotaur.

[Zorafim]

I'm really sad nobody mentioned anything about my drawing of Levia.

[yoshiblue]

I don't know. Levia may be a goldfish but that Minotaur is pretty manly.

[stukasa]

I think I was too disturbed by the picture of the vegetable cow to say anything...

[Zorafim]

God I had fun with Vegetable Cow.

[Zorafim]

Twelfth Dream: The Price of Perfection, part 7

[spoiler-box]“The bone density is incredible, the muscle strength is the highest I’ve seen… The neuron fire rate is amazing…”

Zorael stood in front of a glass tube, supporting himself against it with both his hands. His head was dropped in concentration, as he peered into the contents of the tube with his spirit’s sight.

“The skin durability is flawless. ‘should be able to be thrown into a volcano and walk out with no problems.
Those legs should work wonderfully on land, those fins should provide great speed and handling, and those wings should be workable in the air…”

He looked up to face the lifeless body floating in the tank before him. His eyes shined and he smiled brightly.

“I’ll need to test the mind structure, but, I think I’ve finally done it.
I’ve created my Leviathan!”

The room was empty, save for Zorael, his ever-present and ever-silent cat, and the project he has so tirelessly been working on. The walls of the room were thick and transparent, distorting the images of the aquatic wildlife gliding behind them. The room was lit with a bluish white light which illuminated everything clearly, save for the corner which Bootsie chose to rest in.
Zorael gazed entranced at his creation, marveling at his own work.

Like many of his creations before, this one had a mostly human structure adorned with otherworldly features. The skin of its face and the front of its torso was a milk white, and darkened in a gradient to the dark blue of its limbs and back. Its hair was a deeper blue than that of its skin. Made from thin tendrils, it was rich and thick in texture, and reached past its hips. Its form was strong, but streamlined. Detailed muscles were etched onto its torso, arms, and legs, and the bone structure was large enough to accommodate the muscle’s great strength. Sharp black claws tipped its hands and feet. Great wings furled behind it, cramped from the tube’s small space. And a mighty tail came from its waist, and ended in a wide tail fin. Thick, dense scales lined the body, and two rows of mighty black horns adorned its head. Some words were etched on the side of the front left horn, but were too small to make out from a distance.

“I may have gone overboard with his decorations, but… No, he’s perfect.”

Small twitches spasmed through Leviathan’s body as the first signs of life made themselves apparent. Zorael nearly toppled in joy and excitement, and rushed to remove his protective tubing and the liquid supporting him. He rushed forward, and held Leviathan as he slumped forward. As Leviathan came to, he grimaced in pain, and held his hand to his head.

“Easy now,” said Zorael comfortingly. “You’re alright.
Welcome to the living world. I’m Zorael. I made you.
You will be living in the…”

Zorael noticed Leviathan’s arm. It was no longer grasping his head. Instead, it was pointed straight forward.
Through Zorael’s chest.

Zorael looked at Leviathan’s face. He did not recognize any of the intelligence he worked for so long to create. Instead, he saw pain and fear. And most noticeably, anger.
Zorael’s mind raced at the scenario, as his body was flung at the wall.

Leviathan stood before his birthing chamber. His feet were wide, his knees were low, his back was arced forward, his arms were curled in front of him, and his claws were wide. His gaze was low, and his fanged teeth were bared in a bestial snarl. He growled; low at first, but growing quickly in intensity.
He flapped his wings as he arced his back, screeching at the ceiling in animalistic rage. His hands swiped backwards, and his tail thrashed behind him.

He noticed a shadow of a movement dart from the corner of the room to the room’s exit. Not waiting to analyze it, he instead lunged forward in chase after it. He slammed against the door’s frame, twisting his body to follow after his target. He darted forward, keeping his body close to the floor, and violently slamming his feet against the floor with each step. His fangs were bared and his claws were at his side, ready to strike. He gave chase through the halls, inching closer with each second.

As they ran, the rooms around them roared to life as animals howled at their passing. They ran closer and closer to the castle’s interior; Bootsie running for her life, and Leviathan chasing in a mindless rage. Bootsie’s knowledge of the castle allowed her to keep some distance from her pursuer, but Leviathan’s speed was much greater. He sprinted closer to her, and readied a strike.

A huge mass slammed into Leviathan from his side, crushing him into the wall. Splinters of ice flew everywhere as walls shattered. Leviathan was pinned to the wall, and Bootsie fled without a backwards glance.

Leviathan pushed hard, shoving the mass off him. He turned, and found himself facing Behemoth. The beast slammed the ground with his fist, and tossed his head back and forward. He gave a great roar, challenging Leviathan. Leviathan gave a shriek in reply, and lunged forward.

Leviathan brought his claw forward, tearing into Behemoth’s chest. Behemoth brought his forearm across, slamming into Leviathan and launching him down the corridor. Leviathan landed on his feet, and dug into the ice to stop himself. He lunged forward immediately, once again tearing at Behemoth. Behemoth brought his forearms together to block the claws, and swiped wildly in defense. Leviathan dove beneath and leaped above the flailing arms, and leapt inside them to continue his attacks. Behemoth grabbed Leviathan in his fist, and thrust that fist at the wall.

Leviathan broke out just before Behemoth’s fist struck the wall. Using his arm as a support, Leviathan pushed against the wall with his legs, turned in mid-air, and slammed into Behemoth’s head with his knee. Behemoth was knocked backwards from the force, and fell onto his back. Leviathan seized the opportunity, and leapt onto his chest. He thrust his claws into his gut, thrusting repeatedly and without mercy. Behemoth swung his arms wildly to get Leviathan off, but was always met with a kick which secured his hold. Leviathan continued his onslaught without tire; ripping and tearing flesh with each strike, and opening a deep hole in Behemoth’s chest.

A massive torrent of water crashed through the walls of the castle. They slammed into Leviathan, tearing him from Behemoth. He was pushed through multiple walls, destroying multiple rooms before he was thrust outside the castle’s perimeter. He floundered in the waters he was tossed into for a moment, before finding his balance. He looked around wildly, trying to identify his new foe, before finding himself caught in a raging current. He was drug deeper and deeper in to the planet’s crushing depths. He fought against it, kicking his tail and flapping his wings away from the current’s drag, until he finally broke free. He swam in serpentine motions towards the surface, racing swiftly through the waters to flee his unseen foe. He broke the surface and leapt through the air. At the peak of his jump, he unfurled his wings and took flight, keeping his eye on the night sky. Noticing sudden darkness, he turned around. He had just enough time to brace himself as massive wave of water crashed into him, and drug him back toward the depths.

He kicked and he twisted, but he couldn’t free himself. He tumbled helplessly to the depths, until he found himself facing the brilliant lightsource of the planet. The glowing orb condensed, then elongated. The light took the shape of a great winged serpent, and it curled itself in front of Leviathan.

The light struck forward. Leviathan had just enough time to brace himself before being consumed by the light’s maw.

Darkness fell over the planet.


Zorael found himself in a tube when he awoke, suspended in water. On either side of his tube was another tube, carrying a nearly identical body as his. He opened the casing, letting the water wash over the floor and the case crash against the ground. He walked forward, slowly, with his head tilted down and a grave expression on his face. Before long, he came across the body of Behemoth lying in a pool of his own blood.

With a faint motion of his hand, the blood pooled together, and came to rest above the beast’s wound. As it pushed into the wound, fibers of the wound’s walls began to weave together, shallowing the opening.

“I do not like your new pet,” Behemoth said with a strained voice. “He does not fight right.”
“Yeah…” Zorael replied. “I made a mistake. Sit still for a while.”
Behemoth just slumped his head back against the ground with a groan. The wound still looked hideous, but the amount of bloodloss from it was manageable.

Zorael left Behemoth, and walked with the same heavy gait as before. He made his way to the pathway outside his castle’s gate. After a short while, he came across a body floating in the waters. He stood still in watch as the waters brought the body to him.

Leviathan’s body laid limp against the walkway. Deep, bloodless gashes lined his body, and a faint aura radiated from him.
Zorael knelt down before the body. He took it into his arms. And he wept.[/spoiler-box]

Author's Notes:
[spoiler-box]I'm sorry.[/spoiler-box]

Twelfth Dream: The Price of Perfection, Epilogue (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3122828&postcount=170)

[Sayara]

[spoiler-box]]The evils of having a big chest
the hypocricy of having a big chest
the urge to kill for having a big chest
the love of having a big chest
the unfortunates of having a big chest.[/spoiler-box]
[spoiler-box]http://i.minus.com/ibze7Njm96NpV2.jpg[/spoiler-box]

[yoshiblue]

Cute Levia is cute.

[stukasa]

[spoiler-box]Strangely, I had a dream like this once. Except instead of being stabbed by Leviathan, I got fried to a crisp trying to out-fly an explosion, and woke up in a room full of clone bodies.

I knew something was off when you kept describing Leviathan as "it" instead of "she," that's when I knew it wasn't what I was expecting, so I wasn't completely surprised when he turned against his creator. I kind of expected Behemoth to die, though, so that surprised me. I also kind of thought Leviathan might escape at the end. In any case, it was a very interesting chapter. ^^[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

Oh god Sayara you're amazing. I love how you add just enough detail to some parts to accentuate how ridiculous other parts are. Zorael has a beautiful chest, and an awkward amount of no detail on his face. And you made Loreil a hideous old hag, despite being named after a beauty product. And gave her whisps of hair despite having overflowing hair in the source picture.
I gotta say though, Vegetable Cow looks pretty pimp. Even though he kinda looks like Vegetable Pig.

[spoiler-box]Yeah, I realized that I wouldn't fool anyone because of the way english works. I figure, I already built up to this point, may as well make the reveal here.
I did want Behemoth to die at this point, but I couldn't make it work in my mind. How do I kill him, then Leviathan, and have Zorael give a reaction that I like? Does he bawl at Behemoth's death, then walk to Leviathan and bawl at his death? Does he collect the two and bawl? Does he walk over Behemoth's corpse to bawl at Leviathan? I'm not emotionally mature enough to get that scenario right.

I wanted some time to pass to write the author's notes. I didn't want people to read them right after that chapter's end. So I'm gonna do it here.


Of course, this chapter is inspired by Sea Demon Leviathan. First I made the costume (back in Champions Online), then I started thinking about how it would fit in. This is what I came up with: A previous version of Levia that didn't quite come out right.
It should be worth noting how I referred to leviathan as a he, despite being Levia's alternate costume. It's just my way of showing that Levia could have just as easily been a dude, and that wouldn't have changed much. Though I guess the moral of my story is that scary dudes are bad, and pretty chicks are good, so that may have flopped...

And of course, after I made Sea Demon Leviathan, I had to have him fight Behemoth. That's just a must. I really hope I made that scene as savage as it needed to be. Poor Ziz though, being left out.
Also, stukasa, I think you predicted this back in the first Behemoth fight. How Zorael made things stronger than he was, and how he would react if he couldn't control them. I'm not sure how much of this chapter was inspired by that one observation, and how much was already written by that point. But, well, this is what happens. Zorael's lights go out, and Mary has to play in the dark.[/spoiler-box]

[Sayara]

I truthfully just looked at your manuscript and worked with that.

[CelestialBlade]

Alright, all caught up! I've been a couple of chapters behind, so sorry I haven't had much feedback lately.

[spoiler-box]That was some kinda fight; I thought Behemoth was the perfect opponent for Leviathan. Two of Zorael's greatest fighters going at it, and it was one hell of an impressive scene. Really great job making them seem so animalistic as they fought.

And dammit, stop teasing us! XD I remember Sea Demon Leviathan from Champions, so that helped me visualize things. I think CO was the perfect game for you because I felt like you were actually satisfied with that incarnation of Levia, something you haven't quite been in other games I've played with you. You came up with a lot of really great ideas in that game and I like how that's helped inspire a lot of your ideas for this story.[/spoiler-box]

[stukasa]

[spoiler-box]I remember Sea Demon Leviathan from Champions, so that helped me visualize things. I think CO was the perfect game for you because I felt like you were actually satisfied with that incarnation of Levia, something you haven't quite been in other games I've played with you. You came up with a lot of really great ideas in that game and I like how that's helped inspire a lot of your ideas for this story.[/spoiler-box]
[spoiler-box]I never played with you guys in CO so I guess I missed out seeing Zorafim's characters there. Is there a reference screenshot somewhere, I wonder?[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

Did someone say reference material?!

[spoiler-box]Here she is in Champions. Horned head, scales, wings, and an unfortunately hidden but still awesome tail.

http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b77/Zorafin/Champions%20junk/screenshot_2009-10-21-23-49-06.jpg

I've got Bootsie and Zorael in there too, though their designs have changed between then and now.

I also made a similar alternate costume for PSO2 Levia, which isn't too far off.

http://i.imgur.com/DCHfjTl.jpg


And as far as Champion's Levia... Her body was much better than in other games, but she was still lacking. The fins were too awkward for my taste, and I couldn't get the sad eyes I like. But I did love being able to use all those different outfits with her. And, she did have the most accurate skin design, running style, and swimming style.
You're right, I did get a lot of inspiration from Champions. There's just so much you can do in there.

And as far as you being behind... I'll admit, I miss you. The most fun I have with this story is discussing it with other people, but precious few people regularly comment. And talking about it with someone I've known for so long is just great.[/spoiler-box]

[stukasa]

I did! *raises hand*

[spoiler-box]Now that I see it, I almost think I've seen that screenshot before. That's pretty close to how I pictured Leviathan in the story, minus the boobs, and with dark blue hair.

The only other game I've made Aki in is PSU. I generally made original characters for the other games I've played, I guess because the games were pretty different (thematically) so I tried to fit the characters to the world. I used "stukasa" when I didn't have anything else in mind.[/spoiler-box]

[CelestialBlade]

And as far as you being behind... I'll admit, I miss you. The most fun I have with this story is discussing it with other people, but precious few people regularly comment. And talking about it with someone I've known for so long is just great.
Noted ^^ I really like doing that with my story too, and I love getting good feedback. Especially when there's questions and theorizing involved.

[Zorafim]

I even love negative feedback. I just love talking about these things. And so few people read it in my every day life, that I need some kinda outlet.
That's why I'm glad my friend is writing too. I get to nerd out about his story, he gets to nerd out about mine.

[Sacrificial]

I almost caught up reading~ The 10th was a bit slow to read through but so much needed to understand it later on.

[Zorafim]

Twelfth Dream: The Price of Perfection, epilogue

[spoiler-box]“Is that what happened…”

Zorael sat in a room cluttered from overuse. Various organs laid unprotected atop of tables, arranged in chaotic configurations. Muscles joined with nerves, lungs joined with a neurotic lump, and veins connected body parts laying feet away from each other. Zorael had his attention set to a brain lying before him. His elbows rested on either side of it, while his head rested on his folded fingertips.

“I spent all this time working on getting each part right… I never bothered checking to see if each of the parts were compatible with each other.”

He caused a small spark through the brain before him, causing it to reset itself and go through the same process Zorael just witnessed. He set his spirit within it, to witness what the mind went through yet again.

First, a wave of realization. Hopes for a brighter future, desire to spread joy; these things welled up within its conscious thoughts.
Soon after, a wave of knowledge. The scope of the universe, an understanding of the nature of living things; these facts mixed together with the emotions the mind was experiencing.
At this point, the problems begin.

The young mind, eager for righteousness, searches its vast repertoire of knowledge for ways to better the world. And what it found was discouraging. The callousness of human nature, the scope of all that needs to be done. The mind searched for answers, and found none. It searched deeper, and harder, for those answers it began to crave. The strain tore at the mind, breaking apart the mental structure until all higher thinking was destroyed.
What was left, was an unsalvageable mess.

Zorael, in a calm motion, swiped the brain from the table with the back of his hand, and knocked it to the ground. The action likely damaged it beyond repair. If Zorael understood this, he didn’t show it. He retwined his hands, rested his forehead on them, and muttered to himself.

“So the soul emulation is incompatible with the mental optimizations, then… which means I’ll need to start another set of projects to find a way to combine them without problems…”

He gave a dejected sigh.

“What’s the point. It’s fake anyway. Any emotion they express is just a built-in reaction. Without a real soul, I can’t get anywhere near the reactions I should get. How can I call something perfect if every action it performs is a lie?
The strength of my creations, and their intelligence. These things are true. I’ll just… I’ll just focus on those.”

He slumped down, and rested his forehead on his arms.

“Even those were suboptimal anyway. The build was rushed. A slower growth process would dramatically increase tissue density and connectivity. If I want Leviathan to be perfect, his growth needs to be slower. He needs time for the tissue to set, for knowledge absorption to set in, and to mature enough to properly use his skills…
It will give me time to search for and correct any problems in the design. It may end up faster than making quick designs and watching them fail.”

Zorael stood up in a dejected motion. He turned to the room’s exit, and slumped to the door.

“So the knowledge gained from the last few projects was pointless, huh…
If there’s anything you want, go ahead and take it,” he spoke to the empty air behind him.

Zorael left for the hallway. Several seconds later, a figure bloomed from the room’s corner. She leapt up to a table, and took a loose limb within her mouth. She jumped back off, and followed Zorael through the hallway.
[/spoiler-box]

Author's notes:
[spoiler-box]Debugging is a pain. There's so much to go through, and in any part of it could be the problem you're experiencing. And, a small segment could be perfectly built, but cause an unseen problem for another part which accesses it. It takes so much time searching through everything, and that time becomes dramatically longer with any additional complexity in the project. But, that tedious work is needed to make your project flawless.


I've had a bit of a dryspell this week. I, erm, kinda rediscovered WoW. It eats up a bunch of time if you play it incorrectly, but can be really motivating if you play it right. Unfortunately, it's really hard to play it right.[/spoiler-box]

Thirteen Dream: Damage Prevention (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3125318&postcount=175)

[Zorafim]

I almost caught up reading~ The 10th was a bit slow to read through but so much needed to understand it later on.

Yeah, I'm sorry about that. It's hard to make centuries of tedious practice seem interesting, as it turns out. I kinda hoped I could make up for it by interesting designs and situations, but... Well, I got what I got.

[CelestialBlade]

[spoiler-box]It's a bit sad seeing Zorael realize the futility of his last few experiments and feeling like he's wasted his time. Back to the drawing board for him, which is never a fun feeling when you've been so close to a real breakthrough only to realize you need to start all over again. I suppose the slower growth process of Leviathan will be the focus of the Thirteenth Dream :O[/spoiler-box]

[yoshiblue]

Body parts all over the table, a nasty sight.

[Zorafim]

[spoiler-box]It's a bit sad seeing Zorael realize the futility of his last few experiments and feeling like he's wasted his time. Back to the drawing board for him, which is never a fun feeling when you've been so close to a real breakthrough only to realize you need to start all over again. [/spoiler-box]

Did I hit too close to home there?


Body parts all over the table, a nasty sight.

This is how I feel when I visit computer junky's rooms. They have computer parts scattered all over the place.

[Zorafim]

Thirteenth Dream: Damage Prevention

[spoiler-box]Gentle ripples rolled across the water’s surface, disrupting its otherwise perfect calm just enough to softly scatter the light beaming from below it. Their rolling flow continued uninterrupted until they met the resistance of a walkway, set just above the water’s surface. The ripples reflected off it, to continue their path across the planet’s surface.

The walkway continued a distance in either direction. In one, it met the gates of the castle it led into. In the other, it led into the ocean until it melted into it.
Laying flat on this walkway was a massive serpent. Its head and tail rested straight across from each other, and its wide wing-like fins dipped into the sea it came from. A long, clean cut opened just behind the creature’s head, exposing its spine. Kneeling in the open wound sat Zorael, attention focused on the spine below him.

With a roll of his fingers, he summoned a thin stream of water from a basin beside him. It arced through the air, before cutting down in a sawing motion. Zorael slowly positioned the saw lower, and it cut through the bone below it. Zorael repositioned the stream, and cut another line through the bone. After two more cuts, he was able to remove a square portion of the bone, and had access to the marrow beneath it.

From another basin beside him, Zorael poured a thick, white liquid into the marrow. It seeped and mixed into the marrow, mixing seamlessly with it. Zorael replaced the square portion of bone atop of the open marrow, and touched the seams of the bone with his middle and index finger. A small, soft light escaped, and washed the seam of the bone.
Zorael scuttled backward, and started the process with the next vertebra.

“Don’t hurt Rabby!”

Zorael looked up from his work to see a small figure running out of the castle gate as fast as her little legs could carry her; her hair bobbing up and down as she stepped. By the time she reached the serpent’s head, she ran out of breath. Still, she looked up at Zorael: Her eyes wide and pleading, her arms folded in front of her with elbows together and closed hands raised below her collarbone, and her chest heaving from exertion.

“It’s not fair!” she exclaimed. “He didn’t do anything wrong!”

Zorael looked down from his perch down to her, his grim face twisting slightly in curiosity.

“Mary? What are you doing up here?” Zorael asked.

“I was playing in my room,” Mary started, “and I realized that Rabby hadn’t passed by recently. So I looked out the window and waited for him to show up, but he never did! So I went around the castle and looked out the windows and still couldn’t find him, and so I came up here to look for him, and now he has a big gash in him! Why are you hurting him?”

Zorael’s face warmed slightly seeing Mary’s passion. He hid his guilt at causing her to worry, and spoke with as much softness he could muster:

“Rahab’s fine. He’s old, so I’m making a few improvements on him. As soon as I’m done, he’ll swim away better than ever.”

“Promise?” Mary asked, eyes sparkling with the tears welling up in them.

“Promise,” Zorael answered with a soft smile.

“Okay…”

Mary sat down by the mouth of the serpent, looking up at his towering form.

“Aren’t you going back to your room?” Zorael inquired.

“I don’t want to,” Mary responded.

Zorael looked back down to Mary quizzically for a moment while she watched on. After a while, he set back to work.

He opened vertebrae, applied a liquid to them, and closed them. The liquid changed the information stored in the marrow, slightly changing functions of the cells created by them. This would cause the body to absorb different materials, and build bones and tissue in slightly different patterns. In time, the structure of the body should change to reflect a new, more optimized design of Zorael’s making.
Considering the age and simplicity of design of the beast, its current body was no longer adequate for Zorael’s needs. If his castle suffered another attack…



Zorael fused the last piece of tissue, closing Rahab’s wound. This project cost him a large amount of holy energy. He would need to restock again soon. It seemed he was visiting heaven often lately.
Rahab began to stir. Mary jumped up and clapped for joy at seeing her old friend well again. In a smooth motion Rahab twisted his body, allowing his head to fall into the water and the rest of his body to follow after it. Mary watched down in joy seeing him dive down to the depths. Zorael walked over to her, and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. They watched as Rahab’s form became a shadow as he dove.

“You aren’t going to do that to me, are you?” Mary asked suddenly.
“No… There’s no reason to do that with you.”
Zorael’s face grew dim as he said these words.[/spoiler-box]

Fourteenth Dream: Growth, part 1 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3125575&postcount=177)

[yoshiblue]

Interesting that he uses a sea beastie to ward off attacks. Makes me wonder how else he handles invasions.

[Zorafim]

Fourteenth Dream: Growth, part 1

[spoiler-box]The room was illuminated brighter than most of the other rooms of the castle by a light source in its center. There, a pool was raised off the room’s floor, and contained by four short walls. The liquid it contained was a translucent white, and shown with a soft light. Very little space was given to anything else, making this pool the room’s central feature.

Zorael entered the room, with a look of contentment on his face. In his hand was a small glass vial, containing a seemingly clear sample of water. He walked to the pool’s wall, sat on it, and poured the vial into the pool. The water seeped in, reaching out from where it was poured like arms of tendrils reaching for food, until it fully mixed into the liquid it was placed in.

At this moment, the pool looked no different than when Zorael entered. But he knew it contained one more important addition. He closed his eyes, and peered in with his spirit’s sight to see how his newest project was coping in its new home.

Down in the pool, a single cell absorbed the abundant amount of nutrients the pool had to offer. They seeped into the cell’s membrane, enriching it and fueling its metabolic processes.
The cell floated in its liquid, absorbing all it could, and reading for its growth. Zorael looked down, and smiled. If all went well, it should only be a matter of time.[/url]

Author's notes:
[spoiler-box]I was going to just skip to the next chapter. I already have a paragraph written before I started writing this one. But, I felt it necessary to embellish the process a bit more. It barely cost me anything to write it anyway.[/spoiler-box]

[url=http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3126856&postcount=179]Fourteenth Dream: Growth, part 2[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

I wasn't sure where else to put these, but I needed to share these. A friend of mine wanted to paint my character, and we gathered together to share information, and, well...

Just look.

[spoiler-box]http://i.imgur.com/9fY2hYs.jpg
http://i.imgur.com/bEPe78e.jpg
http://i.imgur.com/TJiYrXJ.jpg[/spoiler-box]

These are the ones she's not satisfied with. She probably doesn't want me to share these, but she gave them to me, so ha. This is another incentive for me to introduce Levia, since she doesn't have as many queues to work with as you guys do.

[Zorafim]

Fourteenth Dream: Growth, part 2

[spoiler-box]The ocean goes on forever.
Backwards or forwards, there is no end.

The water is warm.
It is fresh, and delicious.

It is bright.
I can see forever, though there is nothing to see.

I want for nothing.
I cannot want for anything.
There is nothing for me to want.

I will swim.
There is nothing else.
It is all I know.

To swim.
To the end of the ocean.
The ocean which goes on forever…

“Dearest Leviathan, you’ve grown so big…”


Zorael looked down into the pool, warmly smiling in pride. When he looked as hard as he could, he could make out the tiniest of specs, jetting through the water in tiny spurts. After all this time, and after all her growth, she was just barely large enough to be seen with his naked eye.
He had been keeping track of her progress closely to this point, listing off the myriad of forms she would grow through until she matured. He knew each of these forms, and which of her parts were strengthened as she switched through these forms. Yet still, he strained his eyes peering into the water to study her. To understand your works is one thing, but to see your works grow before your eyes…

She darted through the waters, pushing through by a collar of tiny tentacles waving back from the front of her body. Behind that ring hung a string-like body, which rolled along with the current. A simple eye dotted the front of her inelegant body, barely more than a nerve ending.
A simple body, which would soon give way to another. No soul, to direct her emotions. No thoughts, to direct her movements. Only the tiniest of bodies, which had spent years growing as large as it did, and would spend more years growing larger still.

She swam.
She had nothing else.
The ocean went on forever.[/spoiler-box]

Author's notes:
[spoiler-box]Again, another chapter I didn't plan on writing. But, I felt it was less awkward to throw this in than to jump forwards. I do want to show some of her growth, but it's not really important to do so.
Also, I wrote this at 5am. So excuse my sudden attempt at poetry.[/spoiler-box]

Fourteenth Dream: Growth, part 3 (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3128005&postcount=185)

[stukasa]

Okay, this post is about everything except the Fourteenth Dream (parts 1 and 2) because I just got back from vacation and I don't have time to read it all tonight, but didn't want you to feel like I was neglecting your story or anything. And geeeez, you went crazy with the updates while I was gone! What happened to WoW stealing your life away? :lol:

Anyway, my commentary for the earlier two chapters~
[spoiler-box]Whaaaaat, after all that the project was a bust?! That's a bummer. Well, Zorael still learned a lot from it, so I guess it's not all bad news.

Eww, cutting through bone is definitely not for the squeamish (like me), thankfully you weren't too graphic with it!

P.S. I want to hug Mary every time you mention her. ^^

P.P.S. I'll get around to reading the newer chapters when I can. Thursday, hopefully? The weekend at the latest? I'm still trying to catch up with everything since I got back.[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

Turns out there wasn't much in WoW to keep me occupied. We're in between expansions, and they aren't releasing content. I don't raid or PvP, and the community is terrible, so I just stay along for the solo content. I was leveling some alts (warlock is more fun than I thought), but the grind is monotonous unless you're a tank.
And, those last two chapters aren't really much. Kinda like chapter 10, I spit these out quickly to show the passage of time.

[spoiler-box]Turns out, many of your new cells are born from your bones. So, updating the DNA in there is the best way to change your body. This process was inspired by a theoretical surgery where the stem cells in a person's bone marrow are fully replaced, allowing them to reverse aging.

And I have no idea where Mary came from. I had no idea I could write for a character like that. I guess, I just think back to when I was younger and how I thought and acted, and try to write dialogue in that tone. It's not until I'm typing that I realize I'm squeeing.[/spoiler-box]

[CelestialBlade]

Sigh, you and WoW, still :lol:

[spoiler-box]I've always liked how your writing..."style" (is that the right word for it? Going from like, regular paragraph-based storytelling to something like poetry?) changes throughout the story, it really keeps your chapters fresh and makes everything a new experience. That said...hooray for our new little Leviathan :3

Those paintings are badass, by the way.[/spoiler-box]

[stukasa]

[spoiler-box]Okay, finished reading the last two posts (Fourteenth Dream). You weren't kidding about them being short! If I'd bothered to check earlier, I might have just read them yesterday after all.

Anyway, we're finally introduced to our second main character! ...Who apparently is barely more than a speck right now. :lol:

Not too much to comment on yet, but I just wanted to mention that I like your friend's pictures. The third one's my favorite. ^^[/spoiler-box]

[Sacrificial]

In my eyes your friend is a really good painter 0.o I really like the first and third one in style. And now I really wonder what she calls good if she said those are bad.

[Zorafim]

Fourteenth Dream: Growth, part 3

[spoiler-box]Zorael’s eyebrows furrowed. He set his hands on either side of a small orb of water. He tensed his muscles, as if pushing into the orb. The orb’s sides pushed into its center, without any water spilling or stretching outwards. Zorael strained harder, pushing until the sphere compressed down to an egg’s shape. The walls of the room creaked, and the castle itself waned, as Zorael’s concentration strayed from their upkeep. The walls wept and cracked as Zorael pushed inward.

A sharp explosion sounded, piercing through the room’s silence.

Bits of water floated before Zorael, as he pushed against a force which nearly tore his body apart. He simultaneously pulled at the walls, which shattered in the explosion and threatened to let in a deluge from the waters outside. The remnants of the orb he had worked on evaporated immediately, having no other way to cope with the enormous amounts of energy gathered within them.

Holding against the threats to the room, he looked around and surveyed for any more damage. The pool behind him, along with its precious contents, was unharmed. Only the walls and ceiling were damaged.

“Perhaps, I should practice this someplace else…”

He rested his eyes and relaxed his poise, dropping into an entranced stance. Chunks of ice floated back to their original locations, cracks smoothed out into clear glass, and melted water refroze onto wall’s surfaces.
Zorael reposed himself, and walked back to the tank behind him. Sitting on its wall, he traced a finger along its water’s surface. After a few seconds, a fish jumped out, as if to answer his call. Her body was long and compressed inwards at the sides, not unlike an eel’s. Her two pectoral fins were large in comparison to her body, fanning out wide from her sides. Like transparent sheets of silk cloth, they followed the fish’s movements as she arced through the air. Another fin of similar consistency raised from the water as the fish continued her jump, coming out of her tail like a silk fan. Compared to her elegant form and extravagant fins, her head was modest. It smoothly transitioned from her torso, with a thin slit of a mouth and two pure black eyes being its only defining features.

The fish fell back into the water with a plop. With a smile, Zorael brought his hand into the tank, to trace along the fish’s side. She investigated the hand in response, staring and nudging at it in curiosity. Then she sped forward to the other side of the tank.

“She’s grown.”

Zorael turned to the room’s entrance, towards the source of the voice. He found a woman, dressed in a gown of grey feathers which covered all her slender body save her face. This face still retained its youthful features, despite the scars of age which shown. Still shapely and healthy, her eyes grew dim and her skin grew weathered.

“Theresa. Did you need something?”

“I came to deliver a message. Um, you probably already know, but… well,”

She hesitated for a moment. She gripped the side of the doorway, and lowered her gaze. At these visual cues, Zorael gave his full attention.

“Alexander has died.”

Zorael lowered his head at this news, and gave a harsh sigh.

“Another, so soon?”

“Well… It’s, been years now, since Lovelace’s passing.”

“Has it? How terrible of me not to notice…”

Zorael turned his gaze back to the pool. Rays of light glimmered from the surface. The water’s gentle rolling brought him some ease. Leviathan’s wavelike movements caught his attention, and he stared at her instead.

“It’s a shame. I wanted him to teach Leviathan. He would have liked that. They all would have. I don’t think she’ll grow in time to learn from De Vinci, either… I did not think she would take so long to grow.”

“Is she worth it? I mean, um, you haven’t made anything since you started her. Aren’t you lonely?”

Zorael turned to face Theresa, and smiled.

“My child, I have the best company I could ask for, even with the precious few I have left.”

Theresa lowered her gaze, and smiled. After a moment, this smile faded.

“Father… Have I been useful? You created me to test your skill, and to learn more of your craft. Is that right? Have I been able to do these things for you?”

Zorael stood from his position, and walked over to Theresa. He placed a soft hand behind her head, and tilted it to face his own.

“Theresa, my child. You have been an enlightening subject, and a loving friend. I could ask for nothing more than what you have given me.”

With this, he drew her in to a loving embrace. She rested her head on his shoulder, and gently gripped his back.

“Then I can die in peace…”[/spoiler-box]

Fifteenth Dream: Visitors (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3141210&postcount=194)

[stukasa]

[spoiler-box]Well that's kind of sad! All of his other creations are getting old and dying. I guess, if you felt they didn't serve any more purpose that would be the right thing to do. But what about poor, cute little Mary? D:

Also, I liked the concept of the water egg.[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

[spoiler-box]Poor, cute little Mary got old and died peacefully in her sleep. Don't worry, I don't give them space cancer.[/spoiler-box]

[stukasa]

[spoiler-box]I think I mentioned this before, but it's tough sometimes to know just how much time has passed in between your chapters. I don't even know what the lifespans of these Zorael-made creatures is supposed to be, so for all I know, they were all going to die in five years anyway. Or maybe they were built to last for five hundred. It's not important to the story, I suppose, I'm just curious how much time is passing. You've made a few references to years or even centuries going by, but I've lost track of it all by now. :lol:[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

Yeah, that's a flaw of my writing style. It's pretty to look at, but it's lacking in details. I could say how many years pass between chapters, but I'd rather show than tell.

[spoiler-box]You're right. The lifespan of a single creation could span between a minute and eternity, depending on Zorael's whims. And sometimes, I don't even know how much time passes between chapters. I do dwell on details like that often, so I do have a rough timeframe. I can tell you that 50 years have passed between part 1 and part 2 of this chapter, though.[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

It's been nearly a month since my last update. I sincerely apologize for that. I have had a horrible time with this last chapter. My motivation has been shot, and my time has been limited and poorly used.
I believe I am done with my next update, but I want to wait a day or two to proofread and make sure I've covered everything I need to before updating.

[stukasa]

No worries! I think we've all been in that position, struggling through a difficult chapter (well, all the writers have, anyway!). I'm going to be away for the next couple days anyway, so take your time and release it when you're ready. ^^

[yoshiblue]

It's been nearly a month since my last update. I sincerely apologize for that. I have had a horrible time with this last chapter. My motivation has been shot, and my time has been limited and poorly used.
I believe I am done with my next update, but I want to wait a day or two to proofread and make sure I've covered everything I need to before updating.

All good. You got to give it tie and believe! Don't worry about the lack of detail. The story is fine because for me, it is the interaction of characters that make the story and allows the imagination to come up with the rest. I await the next chapter.

[CelestialBlade]

Sometimes you just need a little break to recover your motivation, it's all good. Looking forward to the next part as always :D

[Zorafim]

Fifteenth Dream: Visitors

[spoiler-box]The gates stood strong, open welcomingly for anyone wishing to enter their threshold. The walkway led out, reaching from the gates out to the horizon. And on either side of this walkway, the pristine ocean stretched without end. It is in this place and time that a faint light appeared without a source. Dim at first, it grew in intensity until it came to a blinding brightness. Just as suddenly as it appeared, it vanished.
From where the light faded, three figures stood.

The central figure stepped forward. He lifted his gaze to the tower before him. It rose to an impressive height, and stood strong despite its aqueous foundation.
He lowered his gaze, looking down through the pathway he stood on. He saw the tower fall, its lowest spires dropping near to the ethereal light at the ocean’s core.
He then looked back, over his shoulder. He caught the arcing movement of a serpent cresting over the water’s surface.
With his bearings gathered, he walked forward, with his companions following a slight behind him.
The party walked through the tower’s entrance, into the welcoming hall within its gates.

The circular room’s ceiling rose tall, and the room was spacious. Two sets of stairs arced along the room’s walls, merging into a balcony on the other side of the room, and opening into several doorways. Below the balcony, another entrance led deeper into the castle. And near the foot of either set of stairs, more doorways still lead to the outskirts of the castle’s walls.
The design of the room was simple, but this did not detract from its beauty. Though not extravagantly sculpted, the walls and detail moved with a flow, as if carved from a stream of water. And there was little doubt that they were. The ice used was pristine; finer than any jewel. And this ice reflected a faint light passing through it like a glowing gem.

The central figure looked around, taking note of these features. His attention was diverted by the sound of footsteps; echoing through the hall, and increasing in volume with each repeat of its sound.

After a moment, the figure of their host appeared through the room’s lower exit. His blurred outline became clearer with each graceful step he took. He walked with a practiced gait, moving with the refined steps of a dancer. He dressed in a simple sash colored a dirty white, draped over his shoulder and tied at his waist. Though simple and covering little, this garment gave him a refined air. His exposed arms and torso were muscular and tone, yet moved with an easy grace. His hair fell down his face and back like rivers down a cliff: its volume thick and its texture smooth, yet colored a deep grey as if dyed with age. His face was strong and defined, yet his skin was smoother and eyes more entrancing than any woman’s.
Standing behind him hid a short figure, peering out from behind a corner.

His face warmed, and his arms opened in welcome, at the guests before him. Even at a glance, he could tell who they were.

To his left, floated an orb of folded wings. Numbering six in all, they completely covered his guest’s body, save for the barest hint of a face peeking out from the orb’s center. He caught a pair of eyes glowing warmly back at him, and the curl of a gentle smile.
From cracks in the wings covering its body, shown bright rays of golden light. Though escaping as nothing more than tiny streams, Zorael could feel their intense heat burning into the walls. He strained silently to keep these walls from melting, even as he greeted his guests.

To his right, floated an ethereal figure. Looking as a doll cut from a piece of paper or a sheet of cloth, it hung in the air with no evident force sustaining it. It had the look of a cloak, rather than a person. A featureless hood stood at the top of the figure, while wings of cloth floated behind it. Below it, it sported slits of cloth fluttering as a skirt, instead of any sort of discernible legs.
Viewing the featureless face and the floating movements, an image of Narcissa’s form flew briefly past Zorael’s eyes.

Zorael set his attention to the figure in the center. He took a form differing greatly from his companions; one more customary for an angel.

In the center was a man standing just over five feet, dressed in the purest of white robes. He was thin, with lanky arms and legs with little muscle or fat to define them. He had dark skin and eyes, and dark curly short hair. He stood without pride or stature, instead taking the humble posture of a simple shepherd or steward.

“Raguel! It’s been ages!” said Zorael, motioning welcomingly to him. He then glanced at the guests at his sides. “Ah, forgive me. I don’t think we’ve met…”

“They were created after you left. They are but a few centuries old,” explained Raguel.

“Then it is a pleasure to meet you both. I would offer you refreshments, but I am unfortunately sorely lacking of them at the moment. Instead, please help yourselves to what little comforts my home has to offer.”

“Yes, your home,” Raguel responded. “Did you make this yourself?”

“Ha, yes,” replied Zorael. “When keeping as busy as I have, one does not realize the little additions adding up. Before I knew it, my modest lab grew into a mansion which I still get lost in.”

“And what have you been so busy with, to be distracted so?” asked Raguel.

“Oh? Forgive me, I did not mean to keep you wondering. I assumed you already knew.
I had been trying my own hand at creating life. Graceful dancing flowers, rampaging beasts, expressive thinkers… I’ve been toying with ideas, and seeing how far I could take them. You’ll forgive me, I hope, if I have little to show you at present. I am between projects at the time.”

“You have nothing for us to see, then?”

“Well, I do keep a few projects around for sentimental reasons. I would be surprised if you did not see Rahab outside, cresting above the water’s surface in greeting. And I have also recreated a childhood pet, who is likely hidden in some corner not far. I still work at perfecting their form, but they are still fairly primitive compared to my other works.”

“And yet, you sound expectant. As if you have something ready to show us?”

“Is my enthusiasm that noticeable? I must admit, I am excited about my current project. I had her planned for such a long time, and she’s just now approaching completion. I would be ecstatic to show her to you, if you would see her.”

Zorael turned his head behind him, to face the pathway he had entered from.
“Come, Leviathan. Introduce yourself to our guests.”

At his coaxing, a small figure ran from behind a corner, over to Zorael. Obscured by the distorted lighting of the room, her details could not be ascertained at a distance. And before she came close enough to clearly be seen, she hid behind Zorael, keeping an eye peeking from behind him to study his guests.

“Come now, Leviathan. Introduce yourself properly.”

He placed a hand behind her, and gently guided her forward. She followed his motions, until she stood in front of Zorael, with his hands placed on each of her shoulders.

She had the general shape of a human child, yet her features were far too alien to be confused for one. She was thin, looking almost malnourished. Her arms, legs, and torso looked thin enough for one to expect to see the details of the bones underneath, except that their bones were also too thin to be noticeable. Her flesh was a milky white, giving her a sickly pale look. This white flesh was transparent, exposing her organs and skeleton. Strips of skin fell from her calves, waist, and upper arms, and similar strips fell from her head instead of hair. Her eyes were a pure silky black. Her eyelids were half closed, which would have gave her a bored, distant expression. However, her eyelid’s transparency instead exposed the whole of her eyes, giving her a bug-eyed look.

She did not look at any of the guests. She did not move, nor speak. She stood, in a neutral posture, with a neutral expression.
Raguel took a moment study the girl’s form.

“Zorael,” Raguel spoke, “what are you doing?”

“What?” Zorael responded in confusion.

Raguel looked up at Zorael. His expression one of pity, and longing.

“When you left, we expected you back before long. We waited, patiently, for your return. We expected you to have your fun and come back to us swiftly, or to leave our side forever. Every time you visited, we hoped you would see Heaven again and realize what you had left. Yet, your visits were short, and we were deprived your presence yet again.
We expected you to make a decision in a few years. And now, more than a millennium later, you are away from us still. I see you build a castle for yourself, and spend your efforts making monsters. Did you leave all of Heaven just for a chance to play at God?”

“Is this what this is about?” sighed Zorael. He looked Raguel in the eyes, with a look of grim determination on his face.
“My leaving heaven was not some sudden decision. I had longed, since my first days in paradise, to see the vast universe which I was merely gifted knowledge of. I feared leaving the heavens, and I dreaded leaving my family. But I had never regretted my decision.
I have seen such beautiful alien worlds. I had met such exotic alien life. I have learned so much, and gained so much. I still think fondly of my days in Heaven, and I miss dearly every soul in the communion.”
He fixed his grip on Leviathan’s shoulders before continuing.
“But, I cannot give this up.”

“Do you know what you are saying?” Raguel asked with an expression of worry and sorrow.
“You would give up all that is good, and all the joys of being by God’s side, to create these mockeries of God’s works? That he did not order these acts of yours ceased upon your first attempt shows of his compassion.
I ask you to end this affront to God, and return home. Make peace with He whom you have insulted, and return to paradise.”

“God Himself blessed my work!” Zorael exclaimed in anger. “How could I go behind his back for a project of this difficulty?
You speak as if I set out to insult our Lord. Yet His works are the very things which have inspired my actions! It is His magnificent skill, and the creativity of humanity’s mythmakers, which move my hand. Do you still think such contempt at my works?”

“How could he deny you, his precious creation?” Raguel responded. “He has gifted you, as with the rest of humanity, will of your own. Even if it pains him greatly, he cannot deny you your freedom.”

Zorael hesitated, before he responded.
“If God asks of me to leave this life, then so be it. But until that day, I shall stay and study until my mind is sated.”

“Zorael… Come home.” Raguel pleaded. “There is much work to be done, and there are many souls who would gaze upon your face. Is this life worth abandoning Heaven? Is it worth abandoning the joys you have left behind, to live in this hollow building, and pride yourself in building these soulless husks?” he asked, gesturing to Leviathan’s blank stare.

“I abandon nothing” Zorael replied firmly. “I still think of Heaven as my home, and the saints and angels as my family.
But, you ask if this life is worth losing the joys of paradise? If I value honing my skills, perfecting my craft, and sating my desire for knowledge, more than eternal bliss? Then I answer, yes. To see myself rise from nothing, and build from nothing the skills to live and thrive on my own, is worth more to me than the bliss of Heaven’s embrace.”

“You say this, even after you use the source of our joy to light your home and slay your enemies?” Raguel spoke flatly.

Zorael had no response.

Raguel turned and stepped away.
“We will force you to do nothing. You value this life greatly. I wish for your skills to flourish, and for your creations to surpass your expectations.
Know only that we wish for your presence, and your aid come times of need.”

“Hey…” Zorael said softly. “I may not be able to stay in Heaven, but I am not adverse to visitors. And if you need my hand, I will gladly give it. Just… give me some warning beforehand?”

Raguel nodded, before turning away. He walked for the gates, as his companions followed at his side. After exiting the threshold, he spoke: “I hope to see you again soon.”

With that, the angels began to glow. Dimly at first, the light grew to a blinding brightness. And before a moment’s passing, the light faded, along with the angels in its embrace.

“Well, that didn’t go so badly.” Zorael nearly sighed.

“What does ‘soulless’ mean?” he heard an empty voice say betwixt his hands.

“…dammit.”[/spoiler-box]

Sixteenth Dream: Lesson (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3142037&postcount=198)

[stukasa]

[spoiler-box]"Betwixt"? "Aqueous"? You really pulled out all the stops on this one! :lol: No, but seriously, I think this might be the most well-written chapter you've done so far. The descriptions were spot-on and the dialogue was suitably... Shakespearean? I'm not sure how to describe it, but you captured that Bibilical style of writing you mentioned back in the notes for the first chapter. Keep up the good work!

Also, Levia(than) seems pretty creepy at this point with her translucent skin and bug-eyed stare. Let's hope she remembers to put on suntan lotion when going outside![/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

[spoiler-box]http://flexistentialist.org/gallery_photos/random/platybabies2edit.sized.jpg


It seems like the harder I struggle with something, the more I like it in the end. It means that away from my element, but it also means I am forced to pour more into my work. I struggled hard on this one, mostly just to get up the motivation to write it. So I'm glad that stress turned into something enjoyable.
Comparatively, I believe my next update is already done. I just need to proofread, and see if I should squeeze anything else out of it. I expected it to be longer, but there's not really much to say.[/spoiler-box]

[yoshiblue]

I agree, it was a good chapter. Though her description was kinda creepy. Heh

[Zorafim]

Sixteenth Dream: Lesson

[spoiler-box]Leviathan’s hands pulled against the strings of a harp placed before her. Their notes came out in slow, even rhythms as she methodically motioned her fingers across the strings.


Optional Listening (http://www.mediafire.com/listen/y7oz69csjh1z617/Child+Levia.mp3)

“Your arms are tense,” Zorael said from her side. “Ease your muscles. Play using only as much strength as is needed, and no more.”

Her elbows and shoulders fell, while her wrists remained high. She pulled her arms, lightly tracing against the strings as her fingers plucked at them.

“You’re playing every note the same. Put more emphasis on the dynamically intricate parts. Sway the listener as you pull them through differing moods.”

Her wrists danced, in and out, towards and away from the strings. Pitches rose and fell, and volume ebbed in and out.

“Technique isn’t only in how quickly you can play notes, or how intricate a passage is. A skilled musician can play the same notes as an amateur, and have the piece sound completely different.”

Her arms glided smoothly across the harp’s surface, plucking lightly its strings.


************************************************** ***********************************


Zorael and Leviathan faced each other. Zorael’s stance was even and light, standing naturally as he looked down on his student. Leviathan took her typical neutral stance, with her gaze looking at nothing in particular. After a moment, she shot forward with a surprising quickness. She leapt into the air, and shot a leg out at Zorael.

Zorael smoothly sidestepped, grabbed her small body, and slammed her onto the floor. She bounced with the force of the throw, and twisted a foot in the air to right herself as she recoiled off the ground, landing on her hands and feet.

“Unless fighting the weakest or least wary of foes, your first strike is sure to fail. And a failed strike opens you to a counter. Use your first strikes to test your enemy, and learn his strengths and weaknesses. Confound him with a string of attacks, lower his defenses, and then put your strength into an attack where he’s weakest.”

Leviathan shot forward again, but this time stopped in front of his torso. She let out a flurry of strikes against him, which he parried with open palms. When she landed, she kicked inward against the side of his shin. He twisted his leg so the blow bounced against his calf, and twisted his body back around. He bright his knee up, striking Leviathan in the chest, and sending her back a few feet.
She gave a few short hops as she flew back to counter her backward force, and ended standing with her right side facing Zorael.

“Arms up, at all times. Your defenses are weakest as you are attacking. Cover this at all times by having some part of your body ready to deflect any possible blow.”

She brought her arms up, so that her wrists balanced above her elbows. She stepped forward again, giving short jabs to various points of Zorael’s body. He parried as swiftly as she struck, and occasionally returned a few strikes of his own, which she promptly parried as well.
As she stepped into an attack, he grabbed her wrist, and pulled her forward. He took the resulting moment of imbalance to grab her neck, and thrust her down against the floor.

“Closed hands bring more power to a strike, and protect better against blocked blows. But open hands allow you to control your opponent’s movements better through swifter blocks and grabs. Alternate between the two, and see which works best for you.”

He pulled her off the ground, and on to her feet. Her hands raised into a defensive guard, and her knees were bent in a mobile stance. Zorael smiled at her progress, before throwing his strike.


************************************************** ***********************************


“That one, right there,” Zorael said as he pointed at the starry sky.

“An unknown distance away, at an unknown velocity,” Leviathan answered.

“If I told you it was one hundred thousand kilometers away?”

“One hundred thousand kilometers away, at one hundred kilometers per second.”

“It is made entirely of silicon, and is one kilometer across. How much does it weigh?”

“Estimate, or exact?”

“An estimate is fine.”

“Roughly four hundred billion kilograms in weight.”

“And if it struck something while traveling, and it took one second for the two objects to reach equilibrium, how much force would it deliver?”

“Forty quintillion newtons.”

“And that one? Over there?”


************************************************** ***********************************


“Peter Piper Picked a-“

“Slower.”

“Pe-ter Pi-per Picked-“

“Smooth out your syllables.”

“P hee t her P hi p her-”

“Pay attention to your muscles. Smooth out the tension in them. Speak softly and smoothly.”

“Peeteer Piipeer Piiika tehaa Peeck oooff Piiickllees.”

“There, perfect. Try that again.”

************************************************** ***********************************[/spoiler-box]


Seventeenth Dream: Mastery (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3144956&postcount=202)

[stukasa]

[spoiler-box]What's this? Scene breaks and recommended listening?? Who are you and what have you done with Zorafim?!

It was a lot of short little scenes but I think you conveyed the types of lessons Zorael is trying to teach his... student? Have you taken martial arts yourself or did you learn all that stuff about attacking and defending from watching TV/movies?

P.S. The song was a nice bonus, I think it fit the mood nicely. :)[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

[spoiler-box]I got it from my friend's 'fic. It makes a lot more sense than what I did with dream 10, trying to make everything entertaining to read. I probably should have just used this format on 10, I don't know. I am glad that I got to convey more or less the grandeur of what he was doing, which I cannot do here. I doubt I could have conveyed these the same way.
I don't think I'm going to do it often. Again, the format of this story is the format of my daydreams, and those rarely have scene breaks. It makes too much sense here not to use, but I like clear beginning and endings, even if it makes vastly different chapter sizes.

And yes, I have been a martial artist for thirteen years now. I was inspired to learn to fight by games (Power Rangers, actually), and now I appreciate my games more from the lessons I learned through the arts.

And I'm glad you liked the song. I was able to spit it out in an hour or two, to give the reader more data than the visuals can. I would like to do it more often, but new songs take much longer than new chapters, and I feel I keep the reader waiting for long enough already.
And as far as it fitting, well, that's the advantage to making your own music, isn't it?[/spoiler-box]

[CelestialBlade]

[spoiler-box]Okay, gettin all caught up here...

Again, love your visual descriptions. Your worlds and characters are so unique and ethereal, they're a lot of fun to imagine in motion and the way you use language makes that possible.

It's nice that this story is finally "Daydreams of an angel AND a fish"! XD Levia's introduction has been pretty great so far, and I find Lesson really cute, with Zorael training what is essentially his daughter. I especially loved the martial arts lesson, it's very clear you know what you're talking about and that makes the scene a lot more engaging and fun. I felt like I was listening to the lessons of a high-level instructor, so great job there.

Also, nice work with the music. You have an advantage over Stu and myself in being talented enough to create your own music for a given scene, and you used it to great effect.[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

Seventeenth Dream: Mastery

[spoiler-box]
Optional Listening (http://www.mediafire.com/listen/110f3chu8p89l2d/Chrono+Trigger+-+Schala%27s+Theme+%5BRemastered%5D.mp3)

Zorael extended his arms, and lowered his gaze. From the sides of the room, streams of water rose from their vases, and floated softly to Zorael. The streams snaked around his outstretched hands and forearms, as he brought them over the table before him. Weaving his hands in spherical form, the water threaded together within the space between them. Drop by drop, thread by thread, the streams of water were fitted into a tight form, much smaller than the space they had taken before. As he worked, Zorael pushed into the forming orb, condensing it smaller still even as more water was added.

He worked, and weaved, without rest. He progressed slowly, as a seemingly endless supply of water drained between his hands into a steadily growing orb. He focused as if entranced, to the point where the building around him moaned in neglect. Without his gaze, tears of sweat and cracks of neglect formed upon its surfaces. All this he ignored, as his hands danced around the orb before him.

After a seemingly endless display of mastery over his element, he finished. With a final motion, he smoothed the surface of the orb. With a final push, and with a strained grunt, he locked the form in place.
The orb fell onto the table, sounding a deep ringing echo from the impact.

Zorael took a moment to shift his focus back to his neglected castle. He refroze the melting water, and smoothed the resulting cracks, before examining his work.
He lifted the orb, and brought it level to his eye. It was roughly the size of three fists, and was colored a far deeper blue than one would expect from water so shallow. He tapped its surface, creating slow moving rings of ripples no taller than a millimeter across it. Looking through the orb, he spied miniature rays of light dancing along its center.

Zorael placed the orb back on the table, with a look of deep satisfaction upon his face. He beamed in his success for a moment, before turning to the doorway of the room.
There, he saw Leviathan standing.
In the same expressionless position he last saw her in.
Several hours ago.

She had grown. Not much, considering the score or so years she was given. Yet still, she had grown.
At roughly five feet, her pigmentation had changed. Her flesh gained a more full coloring, losing the transparency it once had. Around her head and back, areas of a light blue grew from the surrounding white. The loose flesh off her head had lengthened and split, becoming more fine and ornate than they once were, and deepened in color. The flesh off her upper arms, waist, and calves lengthened as well, and began to grow supportive spines through them.

“You needn’t wait by me between lessons,” Zorael spoke. “Is there not some place you would rather be?”
“Should there be?” She asked in reply.
Zorael sighed. “No, I suppose not.”

He waved his hand. Between the two, three windows opening to three different worlds appeared.

“You could be anywhere. Walking with flora and fauna of any shape. Traversing mountains and valleys of any size. Enjoying any game or activity with any player, whether he be amateur or master.
Does none of this strike your interest?”

Levia remained motionless, and silent.
Zorael relaxed his hands, and the portals vanished.

“Then on this planet? An endless ocean to swim? A clear sky at which to gaze? I admit sloth on keeping this home populated as of late, but any creation you wish could be yours.”

Leviathan didn’t answer.

“No, I suppose you wouldn’t. At least, then, tell me your thoughts of this.”

Zorael lifted the orb off his table, and tossed it at Leviathan. She caught it smoothly. Then, she was thrown off balance by its great weight.

“Forgive me, I should have warned you. I managed to fit roughly fifty gallons into that orb this time. I believe I can fit more, but this is sufficient for my goals of now. I believe I am finally able to use this technique for building materials.”

Leviathan righted herself in the time it took Zorael to finish talking. She stared into the orb, and manipulated it in her hands.

“How does it stay compacted?” she asked.

“Oh, that? Time locking. Isolate the area around it, and manipulate the time flow. If you change the right variables the right way, it is possible to change the way molecules react with each other.”

He couldn’t tell if Leviathan acknowledged him. She fidgeted with the orb as he spoke.

“I should be able to use the same technique on the walls, to lower their needed upkeep. I’ve grown used to the work, but it would be nice to look away from it from time to time.”

Seemingly satisfied, Leviathan held the orb back to Zorael. He took it effortlessly, and returned it to the table.

He turned back to face Leviathan. Silence set between them for a long moment.

“Go over our last lesson. I want to attempt a new study next session.”

Leviathan left without a word, leaving Zorael in silence. He turned back to the orb, studying it for a moment more. He then took it, and wove his hands around it. He worked it slowly, forcing it into a flatter shape.[/spoiler-box]

Author's notes:
[spoiler-box]It turns out listening to music used to enhance the scene is pretty inspirational. Who knew?[/spoiler-box]

Eighteenth Dream: Missive (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3154030&postcount=212)

[yoshiblue]

Yep, it is. Then again, I end up listening to one track on loop most of the time.

[stukasa]

[spoiler-box]I find music very inspirational when I'm imagining a scene and coming up with ideas, but when it actually comes time to write I find I do better work without it. No matter how much I try to focus my thoughts on the words, part of my brain is still distracted by the music. That's why I no longer listen to music when I'm writing, only when I'm formulating ideas.

And for some reason I think Zorael should use that orb as a kick-ass bowling ball. He could set up ice pins and knock them all down with a single strike! :lol:[/spoiler-box]

[CelestialBlade]

[spoiler-box]Agreed with Stu; I generate so many of my ideas while listening to music, but I generally need silence when I'm actually writing. No music, no TV, no fiancé XD I know a lot of people that prefer to study or otherwise concentrate with some form of media playing, but I've never been able to do so.

I must say though, seeing what the addition of music can do for a story has been a fascinating experiment and I'm amazed at how successful it is.

The scene of Zorael creating the orb was one of the most aesthetically pleasing things you've written, I was really impressed with that. And Levia's quickly growing into the Levia we all know :D[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

[spoiler-box]Wait, fiancé? When the hell did this happen? Why haven't you told me yet? And why haven't I met him? Are you taking him to our Disney trip? Can I at least get pics?

The way I work with writing is, I think up the chapter while I'm doing some active, but mentally unchallenging activity. Ideally, walking. Walking around my neighborhood, or through campus, is where I do most of my heavy thinking. That, and laying awake at night, is where I dreamt up this story in the first place. Driving's another good one.
I find it strange that you two think music distracting. I find it invigorating. I suppose, it keeps me awake and focused when I would sooner lull away. I find it hard to do work a lot of the time, and music really helps with that.
But obviously, any other distraction and I'm completely out of it. There are times people will enter my room and I'll completely ignore them until I'm done with a sentence.

So you think my addition of music was successfully done? I suppose I'll keep at it then. It was mostly pride which prevented me from doing it in the first place, and I think now I have the skill to gracefully incorporate it.
And I'm glad you enjoyed the visuals. I didn't realize until I was proofreading, but I think I managed to create a fairly powerful visual this time around.

As for Levia's growth... There should still be one fairly major difference you will notice between her in the story, and her usual portrayal.[/spoiler-box]

[stukasa]

[spoiler-box]I can do most things while listening to music, but creative writing isn't one of them. I'm at my best when I don't have any distractions, and music counts as a distraction. Although strangely, there are some menial tasks that don't bother me. I can think pretty clearly when I'm driving, in the shower, or walking around (for example). With music, if it's a good piece I'll want to listen to it, so part of my brain is focusing on the music instead of the writing, and that detracts from my ability to write.

I have to be careful not to think about writing when I'm in bed trying to sleep, otherwise good lines keep popping into my head. And, not wanting to forget them, I have to drag myself out of bed and write them down. There are nights when I've done that three or four times in a row until I finally force myself to stop thinking about my story.

If I have one complaint about your inclusion of music, it's that you put the link on the right side. I naturally start reading from the left side first, so I tend to miss that link until after I've already started reading and my focus gets to the right side of the screen. Otherwise, yes, I think you've chosen good music selections so far.[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

One thing I want to point out; for the first time, I don't know what I'm doing for my next chapter. Normally, I think of the next chapter as I'm working on the current one. But I guess I didn't keep it up, so now I have to plan out the next chapter as quickly as possible.

Not to say that I don't know how the next chapter is going to go on. But I've simply gotten to a point where I'm ready to write, and have nothing to write. This is also not to say that I don't have anything planned out, but just that I don't have the next chapter fully fleshed. I'm looking forward to the next story arc, but I need to get there first.


As I feel like writing, I give to you a story. One unrelated to the topic at hand, unfortunately. But one which, instead of happening to two fantastical creatures of pure soul and solid body, happened to me.
This was copied off my facebook feed, so keep in mind the medium is slightly different than usual.

[spoiler-box]My fellow facebook friends, I have something to share. This is a story. One which happened not many nights ago. It is a story which, when you finish, will give you greater insight of my soul.


I found myself at a farm, in celebration of the union of two beautiful people. While the celebration was beauteous, it is not the focus of my story.

My story begins when I notice a rooster. A common enough creature, given my location. And a creature I have much knowledge of, given my upbringing. But yet, a creature which I had not given enough study to.

In this story, my first action is to follow this rooster. I see it disappear into a barn. Interested in studying it further, I follow this creature into the building. I enter, and notice it on the other side of the domicile. I enter, intent on closer inspection. Halfway through my trek, I notice a noise. So faded into the background sounds of the party now so far away, this noise didn't register for me until I was at the mercy of those to whom this noise belonged.

I turn left, and I see them. Numbering half a dozen, they were beautiful. And they were terrifying. I stood, transfixed. Nay, frozen in fear. Their eyes, devoid of mercy and forgiveness, bore into me. They chanted; a deep, guttural sound hiding not their primal fury. They chanted of this fury, of their dominance over me. They sat high on their perch, judging me, readying for their next move against me.

I stood there, defenseless. I knew, I had two options. Either I stood there, and accepted their wrath. Or I left, giving them the knowledge they had complete control over me. Though I had my pride, I also consider myself a rational man. Even dumbed by fear, I knew the only action I could take.

I tucked my dignity, the proof of my manhood. I turned, exposing my defenseless back to my betters. And I walked, out of the building of terrors, to allow the beasts to do as they please unopposed.

I walked, and I knew. Now, as before, and as forever, one undeniable truth.

Chickens scare the ^%$# out of me.[/spoiler-box]

[stukasa]

Since you don't have a set release schedule there shouldn't be any problem, right? ^^

Don't feel too bad, I ran from a flock of geese before. I even ran from one goose. Those things are scary! By the way, should I know why you have extensive knowledge of roosters given your upbringing?

[CelestialBlade]

Geese are freaking douchebags.

[Zorafim]

I grew up in Miami. People keep chickens there. s'wierd.

And geese and swans are horrifying creatures. They're so aggressive, have great intimidation tactics, and are very well armed.

[Zorafim]

Eighteenth Dream: Missive

[spoiler-box]
Optional Listening (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=65vnexWX6jo)

From outstretched hands came a curious energy. Plainly discernible, yet not clearly visible, it bathed the ice before it. Wrapping around it, the air and light warped and bent as the energy worked. Under the distortion, the ice flowed and churned under mysterious influences.
And then… nothing. The ice remained motionless; yielding not to any motion or force.

Zorael gave a heavy sigh. He slumped down, resting on the leg he knelt on while he worked. His work had been slow, but fruitful. His inexperience with the magic he worked with, along with the heavy concentration required while he worked it, caused great strain in him. Yet with simple perseverance, he had nearly finished with his task.

Opening his eyes, Zorael noticed a pair of feet before him, wearing a pair of simple sandals. He remained knelt as he lifted his gaze to the figure before him.

“Gabriel. You save me the trouble of kneeling.”

The two stood alone on a glass pathway; the only foothold as far as could be seen, save for the castle on the horizon. They stood illuminated by the dancing rays bent from the water’s surface surrounding them, and kept company by the gliding figures of creatures with forms hidden beneath the ripples.
Zorael stood, giving full attention to his guest.

“Zorael. I come bearing a message.”

“As I would expect of you. What message do you bring?”

Gabriel kept to simple attire. As traditional, he wore a simple white robe, and plain sandals. His body was of a middle eastern man with modest features. And when he spoke, it was with a voice seeking not respect, but understanding.

“I believe it said that you were willing to offer your aid once again to God?”

“Are you referring to my conversation with Raguel?” Zorael asked. “Yes, I’m willing to lend my hand, should the need arise.”

Gabriel reached behind him, pulling out a parchment from its holding. He extended it forward, reaching it to Zorael.

“We have a request. While we can fulfill it ourselves, it is known you possess an affinity for planets other than ours. It is our belief that your experience may be able to produce an outcome greater than that which we can.”

Zorael took the parchment from Gabriel. He read it over, and spoke with his eyes still on its surface.

“I didn’t think Heaven’s eyes glanced away from earth.”

“God’s children are his children, even if they forget their father and leave their home. His hand shall always be where it is needed.”

Zorael lowered the parchment to his side, looking Gabriel in the eye.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he said.

“Then we leave this matter to your capable hands,” Gabriel responded.

The archangel turned from Zorael, to walk down the endless pathway before him. He lit with a pure light, which grew to cover his body. And as he walked, his body burned into flecks of light which fled to the heavens.

Alone, Zorael looked over the parchment once more. He pinched the bridge of the nose, and gave a strained inhale. He then rolled the parchment, and tucked it into his clothing.
He turned, and walked for the gates of his palace.

“The rest of the walkway can wait, I suppose… but what am I going to do with Leviathan while I’m gone?”[/spoiler-box]

Author's Notes:
[spoiler-box]20 days, huh? So many distractions... In the time since the last update, I've played, got addicted to, and quit FFXIV. While the game itself is well paced, it turns out I'm quick to start grinding. I leveled six of the eight crafting classes to cap, and have the other two halfway leveled. So, that's where my time went.
On the plus side, I have everything planned until my next story arch. On the minus side, I don't know exactly how this story arc is going to go. So, I've gotta plan that out somehow.
I've had this chapter written for several days already (or a week? Time flows strangely for me), but I haven't been satisfied with it. I thought I could fix it up, but was never able to work on it. So I figured I'd just post it. So if it flows strangely, well, that's why.
And yay Gabriel! People know him![/spoiler-box]


Ninteenth Dream: Unset Curriculum (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3179677&postcount=216)

[yoshiblue]

Never really sure if this spoiler stuff will ever catch on for me but oh well.[SPOILER-BOX]Seems a lot of people have been playing FFXIV as of late. So far I just know that Enforcer, Connie, and Nina play. Anywho, always nice to have all the gaps filled in. Best i can suggest is to let the imagination take hold and make all sorts of scenarios. Pick one and make a bridge. Then hope you aren't conflicted on which story path you want to take. Or a convoluted one at that. But its good to see that you aren't rushing it.

As for critiquing, if its really worth anything, there isn't really anything I really see that needs fixing. The only things I would change is Gabriel's description. We know has plain sandals for a line mentioned earlier and robes. What kind of plain robes does he wear? Personally I prefer Greek.

Nitpicking aside, nothing really needs change because it does the job just fine. While descriptions are brief, I let the imagination choose how everything looks. I look forward to the next chapter.[/SPOILER-BOX]

[Zorafim]

En, Connie, and Nina all play FFXIV? On the same server? I may need to get a server transfer then.

[stukasa]

[spoiler-box]To be fair, PSOW was down for a while so it's not like you could've posted anyway. As far as chapters go, this one was rather plain. It builds up curiosity and anticipation for the next story arc, so I guess that's something. And yes, I was going to mention knowing Gabriel but you already said that, so I won't. :p[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

Ninteenth Dream: Unset Curriculum

[spoiler-box]
Optional Listening (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BprpzeWQSzc)

Scant feet above the endless walkway, dew took form in the air. Swiftly and steadily, it spread open, forming a clear mirror. Looking through, one could see another world; the greens and reds within it contrasting starkly against the blues and whites without. The surface of this mirror rippled gently and calmly, until a form crashed through its surface.

His body shone a calming light, with the gentle glimmer of a clear star. Gliding through the air, his hair fluttered behind him in swift waves. His robes flapped calmly as his feet drifted above the ground. Incorporeal wings glided behind him, giving grace to his flight through the portal.
He landed gently, balancing weightlessly atop the tip of his foot before his weight slowly took hold.

He stepped forward.

He walked for the entrance of his home. The shining light radiating from him dissipated slowly into the air. His graceful wings evaporated one feather at a time, before his robes returned to a dirty white color. The light seeped from his flesh, revealing the blood and dirt which betrayed the struggles he’d endured the days past. His hair dropped gently down his shoulders as the final strands of blessed light left his body.

He approached his threshold. Within it, he was greeted by a figure in the center of his entrance hall. She stood, attention diverted to a crystalline book in her hands. Her focus did not stray even as her creator approached.

“I didn’t mean you to only read the book. You are free to do whatever else you please.”

“You did not present me any other activities.”

Leviathan’s attention remained on her book even as she spoke with Zorael, reading from its pages even as she spoke.

“I didn’t think I would have needs to. You did not want for rest? To perform another activity?”

Her black eyes hid their movements as they darted across the pages before her.

“At least your progress isn’t halted while I am away. How much were you able to complete while I was gone?”

“I have read through roughly seventy three percent of the pages in this book.”

“Sevent… That was supposed to take until I had finished all of my assignments! How have you read all of that so quickly?”

She finally lifted her gaze to study her creator’s face.

“Is this surprising? You had been gone for three hundred and fifty kiloseconds. At four thirds page per hectosecond, and given three and one half kilohectosecon-“

Zorael shook his head.
“Use minutes and days, please.”

She paused a moment, considering his request.

“It works out in a perfect environment, with no flaws. I understand this. But surely it could not have been that simple. Did you not need to process any of the information? Did your mind not tire?”

“I do not believe I came across any problems.”

“You are reading particle physics!”

She studied him for a moment.

“…yes?”

“It took me centuries to master their movements. You understand it in four days?”

“…is this a problem?”

He gave a sigh, calming himself before he continued.

“I will be testing you to confirm you understand the material. You are to restudy any portion I find you do not fully understand.”

He stepped past her to the stairs leading below, his posture showing hints of tire.
Leviathan tilted her body to him, to ask:
“Am I to continue reading?”

“I have nothing else prepared for you at present,” he gave as her answer.

He turned a corner, his figure disappearing into a maze of crystal walls and distorted light. Leviathan turned her gaze back down, placing her focus back onto her book.
She turned a page.[/spoiler-box]


Author's Notes:
[spoiler-box]God, so much FFXIV... Why does it have to be so beautiful?[/spoiler-box]

Twentieth Dream: Fulfilled Dreams (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3182250&postcount=218)

[stukasa]

[spoiler-box]It's been almost two months since your last update, no excuses! :p

Anyway, Leviathan reminded me a lot of a CAST in this chapter. Doing one task for a long period without tiring, grasping difficult concepts right away...

Your descriptions are good as always, especially the first couple paragraphs. It was a nice introduction to the chapter.

Hopefully it won't be another two months before the next one![/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

Twentieth Dream: Fulfilled Dreams

[spoiler-box]
Optional Listening (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GYZihcQ54T8)

They walked down the corridors, Leviathan a step behind Zorael. Her gait was practiced and controlled, while his was relaxed and natural.
The years had differing effects upon the pair. Zorael resided in a body identical to the countless he’d kept before, save for minor variations and improvements he’d created. Yet, Leviathan’s body had matured.

Her head stood half a foot below Zorael’s. The strips of flesh falling from her head had split to a pleasing fineness, the thickest growing to no more than an inch across. Their length had grown to the middle of her back, and their color deepened to a thick blue. Her limbs and torso, once thin and undefined, swelled gently with the coils of etched muscles. Her white coloration was stained by deep blue markings curled as the waves of an ocean. Her back, arms, and legs were stained by these markings, as was her neck and the sides of her face. Her calves, waist, and upper arms fluttered with the shape of flowing fins, set loose like the cloth of a dancer.

Zorael paused a moment as he came to a turn in the path. He had meant to continue straight, to continue work on his projects. Yet, he felt a tug to his right. He stared down the pathway, at the doorways to an ancient museum.
He turned his head a slight to Leviathan, who still waited for him to continue his trek.

He turned right, and walked.
After a hesitation, Leviathan followed after him.

From her peripheral, she saw glass containers supporting the forms of unfamiliar creatures. Worms in some, hard shelled creatures others. Armored fish, scaled forms, beasts matted with fur. Countless beasts floating in display, and not one like another.
Zorael stopped in front of one room in particular, whose entrance sat at the end of the long walkway. He turned his head, yet didn’t quite face her. His silvered hair hid his face. Yet, she noticed his jaw move. It clenched, then relaxed, then opened. Then closed again. After a moment, he finally spoke.

“Have I shown you this room before?”

She held her forward gaze as she gave her answer.
“No. I have never followed you to this area.”

He paused for a moment more, before he spoke again.
“Come in here.”

Zorael took several steps into the room.
Leviathan followed in after him.


Optional Listening (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LD6aQ_G0B4M)


She faced three canisters. The central one held a short figure, suspended with her arms opened slightly in welcome.
Her hair was short and curled, colored a pure white. Rounded horns adorned her head, and a woolen frock covered her body.
A smile adorned her still face.

Behind her, two other canisters held two more figures.
On the left, a muscular man clothed in his own fur. A lion’s tail fell to his legs, and his closed eyes furrowed in concentration.
On the right, a woman dressed in a modest gown of feathers. Her hands were folded demurely before her, and her head was tilted downward in humility.

Zorael stepped past these three tubes. Leviathan followed him to find more tubes still.

Zoreal pressed his hand against one of them. Inside was a form as fierce as it was elegant. Feathers of a dull red lined its body in ornate fashions, and its extremities were lined with fangs, claws, and a beak.
Diagonally across was a much thinner tube, filled with what seemed to be an inverted flower. Its stamen was just thick enough to support its weight, and its petals shone in vibrant colors.
Completing the triangle was a large tube. A massive beast, with deeply etched muscles, stood proud even in death. Every one of its features radiated power.

“I’ve been creating life for a long time,” Zorael finally spoke. Leviathan seemed to look at nothing in particular as he continued.
“I wasn’t good at it. Not at first. But I suppose, if you like something enough, and you keep doing it, you get better.
What you passed by on your way to this room were my proudest moments. When I finally got a design right, or when I finally reach a milestone. There’s a story to each container out there.
Yet, there is a reason why I brought you to this room in particular.”
He turned to face her. His face was sullen, losing the strength and compassion it normally homed.
“Each being within each of these containers is a part of you.”

Leviathan’s face remained expressionless. Zorael turned back to the canisters, and continued regardless.

“From Behemoth, comes your strength. With him, I was able to perfect the muscles which now power you.
From Ziz, your speed. He gave me the mastery over movement to perfect your mobility.
And from Narcissa, your grace. From her, I learned how to pinpoint even the greatest of strengths into the most minute of motions.”

He looked to the opposing corner of the room, to three large containers, before continuing.

“You owe your swift and powerful mind to Lovelace. Your ability to organize facts from Alexander. Your creativity from Da Vinci.
From these six, come your strengths.”

At this, Leviathan turned to Zorael.
“Then what of these three, by the entrance?”

Zorael turned to look longingly at their forms.
“I had more planned for you. The kindness to desire the best for everyone. The courage to act upon this kindness. And the modesty to keep these desires in check.
Alas, I did not have the skill to give you these things. I had to chose between making you a kind liar, or a cruel truth. And being forced to choose between kindness and truth…”
He walked to Leviathan, and placed a hand on her cheek.
“I’ve lived most my life living in kindness. Yet is was for desire of truth which broke me from that life. To me, it wasn’t a choice at all.”
Leviathan returned his affections with a blank stare and an empty posture. Yet, she returned his answer with a question.

“What of that container in the back?”

Zorael turned to the back of the room. There, a single canister stood. Within it, a serpentine form floated. Black claws tipped its hands and feet, and heavy scales armored it. Great wings furled cramped within the container, and a folded fin ended its tail. Atop his head, a crown of horns.

“That… is the source of my modesty. My reminder that, no matter how skilled I become, pain is a simple oversight away.”

He turned away, and walked for the exit. After waiting for a few seconds, Leviathan walked after him. Their backs turned to the creations behind them, they walked to their next project.
The figures floated behind them in silence. Each radiated an aura of their strengths.
And some of these strengths, Leviathan noted, she lacked.[/spoiler-box]

Author's notes:
[spoiler-box]And here is the payoff. It took quite a bit of work to write them in. But now they're serving their purpose. Rather quaint, and I hope I can come back to this area.
After setting this up, I regretted killing them off. If I left them alive, it would make the castle more alive. But I always thought of expansive rooms with the corpses of Zorael's creations to be one of the defining features of the castle. The more I think about it, the more I prefer it being cold and empty.[/spoiler-box]

Twenty First Dream: Calling (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3193011&postcount=222)

[yoshiblue]

[spoiler-box]Could always go creepy with memories eternally replaying around the castle. Or floating water like orbs that, when tapped, replay a memory.[/spoiler-box]

[stukasa]

[spoiler-box]That was a nice way to tie it all together, as we understand that Leviathan is not just another of Zorael's creations, she is the culmination of his previous efforts. Now maybe they can start a new era of adventures together? ^^

The song choices were very fitting, though if I had to make one criticism, it's that the second track (the one with vocals) made it slightly harder to concentrate on your words. I was able to do it, but at the expense of mentally tuning out the singer.[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

I was hoping that the non-english vocals wouldn't be distracting. I didn't have a problem while writing with it, so I'm sad to hear you had problems reading with it. I'll try to avoid songs with vocals in the future, but I already have two vocaled songs planned in the future.

[Zorafim]

Twenty First Dream: Calling

[spoiler-box]
Optional Listening (http://www.mediafire.com/listen/no32all5sq25mq2/panzer-dragoon-2.mp3)

Zoreal rested against a bench, his face heavy with concentration. His hand stretched forward, calming a gentle stream of water towards an object before him. Little more than a handle, the object drank generously of the water offered to it. Gallons disappeared into its shape, yet it sparsely grew. Zorael’s control over his own body faltered as more and more liquid was consumed by the barely growing tool. His shape slumped further down, as his work grew more frenzied. And when his concentration was at its most fragile, a shape appeared before him in a startling flash.

Zorael’s object erupted in surprise with a violent explosion. Fragments of ice, sprays of water, a piece of paper, and a disembodied pair of wings shot towards the walls, while a set of feline feet scampered to the hallway. The ice and the water froze in the air, floating as if time had stopped. The wings fluttered violently against the ground, and the paper gently fell. After a moment of disorientation, the wings fluttered towards the paper, and bound themselves to it. It flew to Zorael’s desk, blown apart by the explosion. As tiny shards of ice slowly pieced themselves back into the furniture, the wings dropped its parcel onto it.
Zorael barely raised his gazed, and with hazed eyes, greeted the celestial being: “Child of Gabriel, your choice in timing is frustratingly poor.”

The wings, cloaked in an almost solid halo of light, fluttered above him for a moment. It circled, and rose, as its body itself faded into light.

Zorael dropped his gaze again, and refocused his efforts on the floating cacophony of aqueous shrapnel floating before him. The desk repaired quickly, as its crystalline pieces fell back into place. The handle, having lost much of its form to the prior incident, recovered more slowly. Ribbons of water weaved into it, but it would take hours to reform its lost shape.

Zorael, hard at work, called out in a forcedly calmed voice: “Leviathan, read me the delivered message.”
Leviathan, breaking her nearly statuesque posture, walked forward from the corner of the room, and lifted the opened scroll from the table. Its durable form was still aglow with angelic presence as she did.
As she focused on the parchment, she started: “Favored child, your presence is missed in my paradise. The heavens long for your presence each moment of your absen-“
“Skip to the body of the message,” Zorael strained to say.

After a brief pause, Leviathan continued: “An object not of my creation has stolen its way into my domain. Though I know little of it or its function, the power it contains is clear. I wish it clear of my children, for I fear of the harm it may cause. Yet, at the only time it can safely be retrieved, a colony of them will find their way to the planet in which this object will reside.
I ask you, faithful servant, to retrieve this object before harm comes to any of my children. As my messengers will see to their protection, I ask you only to retrieve the object, and remove it from my domain. Search for a great power not of my design, and you will quickly find it.”
Leviathan lifted her eyes from the parchment to Zorael. “This is from your… god? Is this correct?”
“Not now…” Zorael groaned in response.

The room sat in silence for a moment; the only sound being the heaving of Zorael’s breath, and the only motion being the weaving of the streams of water at his command. After this moment, Zorael interrupted its silence:
“Leviathan… can you do it?”

Leviathan responded only with silence. Zorael continued: “There is little more of use I can teach you, and there is less still which will cause you harm. I have work which requires my attention, and none to occupy you. The assignment is simple, and you are able.
So I ask of you. Will you retrieve this object for me?”

Leviathan simply replied: “As you wish.”

“There is a portal,” Zorael muttered almost inaudibly as he slouched further down, “outside the gates. It will take you where you need to go. I will open another as you finish.”
Leviathan nodded, and left.

Zorael dropped to the desk, as the ribbons of water continued weaving into their handle. Its length had increased to several feet, as gallons more of water continued to stream into it.[/spoiler-box]

Author's Notes:
[spoiler-box]I can't stand how slowly I'm going. I'm hoping I can pick this up soon. There's not much excuse, considering how little I write each update.
This chapter is more of the same, but hopefully I used what I know to convey my messages.

And, this would be the first non-Final Fantasy song I added. Hopefully I can stop using them as crutches. The song is the Main Theme of Panzer Dragoon, from the Best of Sega soundtrack. No, I couldn't find a youtube link. It doesn't matter, I had to edit the song's length anyway.[/spoiler-box]

First Analysis: Fear (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3202166&postcount=229)

[yoshiblue]

[spoiler-box]Aw yeah, Levia going on a mission.[/spoiler-box]

[stukasa]

[spoiler-box]Good song choice. ^^ It (the song) started slow but built itself up as the chapter went along.

So... apparently God didn't create everything in the world after all. I guess we already knew that, since Zorael's been creating his own stuff for a while now.

I'm looking forward to seeing what Levia(than) can do on her own. After all, we've only seen her in a student-type role up til now. By the way, she's still got a spot on my team if it works out story-wise (and you're still interested). Of course, it'll probably be a few months before we get to that part of my story. :D[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

[spoiler-box]Well, it'll take several months for me to build her up to be useful anyway. I don't think she'll be interesting enough as she is now, considering she barely speaks. Not to mention her not knowing what an ARKs is.[/spoiler-box]

[stukasa]

[spoiler-box]It'll be a little weird when things reach that point. I mean, up til now your story has basically existed in a vacuum, a separate world from most of the others here. I'm interested to see how you tie it all together![/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

I've been wanting to get to a point where it wouldn't be so weird. That's still going to take a ton of effort on my part, though.

[Sacrificial]

[SPOILER-BOX]oh so she finally stepping into our world!
Ps:The answer is photons[/SPOILER-BOX]

[Zorafim]

First Analysis: Fear

[spoiler-box]
Optional Listening (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rS8O9xUZn0c)
A portal opened in an unfamiliar landscape, its surface rippling in waves. A body stepped through, the portal’s watery surface clinging to her flesh. The water splashed against the ground as the body walked forward, and the portal closed behind her.
Without breaking stride, Leviathan surveyed her surroundings from the corners of her eyes. The earth below was made of rocky ground with loose, coarse dirt. The scenery was decorated only by plateaus and jagged valleys, none ever smoothed by winds or rains. The ground was colored a soft orange, contrasting sharply with the deep purple of the skies above.
Each aspect of this world was equally unfamiliar to her. Yet, she was hindered only by a passing curiosity of the exotic scenery as she worked her way toward a collection of structures in the distance.

The settlement was hastily constructed, with little thought put into its formation. The small buildings were little more than dulled metal plates and cheap plastics bolted together, with few personal touches crafted by hand. Some sheets of rough cloth were thrown against the ground or draped above pipes, protecting various tools from the dirt below or the light above.
A single construct stuck out, parked roughly in the center of the settlement. Its size was enormous, easily able to fit the rest of the encampment into its walls. Its hull was smooth, and large wings sat out of its sides. Some of its burnt metal was stripped from its sides, seemingly being used as material for the buildings surrounding it.

Though Leviathan briefly glazed over these details, her focus laid on a single form between her and the settlement. Dressed in a rough cloth, and resting on a pair of legs, it manipulated a set of tools in its hands. Roughly grown hair matted its head, as its gaze focused on its task.

A human. The same form of being as her creator. One of the beings that the creator of her creator, the maker of the universe, cared for so deeply. It was a single human which single handedly constructed her home, and populated it. It was a single human that taught her everything she knew, and gave her strength. Would these be as knowledgeable as her creator? As powerful? If so, what would an entire community of them accomplish?
As Leviathan walked with a purpose-filled gait, the human she focused on noticed her. Responding unexpectedly, he rose, faltered, and then sprinted away towards his encampment, vocalizing loudly as he did. He disappeared into the heart of the settlement.


Optional Listening (http://www.mediafire.com/listen/vc6n4283bcjh94r/Gloria_Estefan_-_I'm_Not_Giving_You_Up_(Tony_Moran's_Remix_Video). mp3)

Leviathan approached the outermost buildings before a number of them returned. They pointed unfamiliar tools at her, and exclaimed words she did not recognize. She took several steps forward.
One of their tools sounded with a sharp explosion.

At a half meter from its source, she noticed the shape of the projectile the tool produced. At two meters, she estimated its velocity. At five, she estimated its path. Halfway between the projectile’s source and her, she estimated the force it could create, then the damage it could cause soon after. It wasn’t until the object was five meters from her before she twitched her shoulder out of its way.
She heard three more explosions.

Following the projectiles’ expected paths, she tilted her head, twisted her hip, and then shot her leg left to move out of their way. Before they could reach her, a hail of explosions sounded. She knocked herself off balance, and tilted her body to sprint to the side. After putting a building between her and her attackers, she took a second to plan.

Her goal is to collect an object of unknown shape and location. In the area she needed to search, she was under attack by an enemy of unknown strength and skill. She would have little time to search if she was under constant attack. She chose a likely location, and formulated counterstrategies against her attackers, before the group appeared behind the corner.

She leapt atop the short building she hid behind as her attackers raised their arms. The building’s form strained even from her light landing, but she pushed forward to escape the hail of bullets behind her. The ceiling collapsed under the force of her push, causing her to roll across the ground. She used her momentum to right herself, and sprinted towards the large metallic structure at the center of the encampment. Hearing a spatter of explosions behind her, she pushed herself left, and let her body twist in the air. She saw the bullets’ path from the corner of her eye, and contorted her body to escape their path, before disappearing behind another set of buildings.

She dodged and weaved through the tight alleys between the small structures, dancing around the corners in an attempt to reach her destination. She locked onto the position of her pursuers through the shouts she heard from the corners of the buildings. They ran unhindered as they took the roads, in an attempt to cut in front of her path.

She reached an open pathway just before her pursuers could catch up with her. They fired unaimed shots as she leapt into another set of alleyways. They continued their chase, running around the buildings as she weaved through them.

She reached the central structure before her attackers. Of the various entrances she noticed, the closest was a hole in the hull a distance above her. She rushed to the hull and ran up its side, before kicking off to land on the wing. Poorly aimed shots whizzed around her, as she scampered up the structure’s side and leapt into its walls.

She started her search. She darted between doorways, quickly peering inside each room in what little time she expected she had. Everything seemed to match the surrounding area: tools made of aged metals or weak plastics, apparel made of rugged cloth, and furniture made from a combination of these. She swiftly searched through all these rooms, before finding a stairwell. She made her way down as she heard steps and shouts coming up.

She rushed through the doorway to another floor, and continued her search. A similar looking hallway produced similar results; rooms filled with little more than aged tools and torn clothing. Though she worked quickly, those pursuing her had little to obstruct them. She flew down one more set of stairs, and caught sight of her hunters before disappearing behind another story’s doorway.

Unlike the previous areas, this hallway was little more than a straight path. She rushed down the long corridor and flung open the door at the end, to find a room unlike the others she had found. Various buttons and switches, as well as many dials and screens, covered the walls. A small number of chairs furnished the cramped room, and a single object sat on a console.
She leapt for the object. A square box, made of rusted metal, and locked shut. She struck the lock, and forced the box open.

She found it. An object clearly as alien to these humans as it was to her. Made of some unknown material, it was so black it seemed to absorb the light around it. Many interlocking parts gave it a fragile appearance, yet it seemed to hold strong. From the polish and craftsmanship, it seemed important. Yet, it had no apparent function.

She heard footsteps thundering toward her. She grabbed the alien object, and leapt for the thin window at the front of the room. She twisted into a powerful kick, intent on shattering the obstruction.
It held fast.

It would break given enough strikes, but she didn't have the time. She tried the walls of the room, managing only dents against its strength. Out of options, she rushed for the door, and straight at her pursuers.

They were halfway across the corridor when she burst out. She kept her body low to the ground as she ran, balancing her torso with her arms at her side and behind her. They aimed their weapons as she rushed toward them.
She looked closely at her attackers as she rushed them. Their eyes were wide, their brow was damp, and their arms were tense.
She saw one’s arms twitch.

She leapt into the air.

She heard explosions fire.

She twisted her body.

She placed a hand on one human’s shoulder. Using him as leverage, she twisted her legs into the two on his side. She set her foot against him, and pushed him into the group on his left and she flew into the one on his right. She struck one with a knee, spun into a hook kick, pulled toward him, and leapt off the wall. She grabbed the man she pushed before, spun around him, and swept her legs to strike the men behind him.
Confident none of her attackers had the immediate ability to fire at her, she ran out the corridor.

She exited the structure, with the otherworldly object in her grasp. She sprinted swiftly against the ground, and moved to the outskirts of the settlement.

She overpowered a group of humans in scant seconds. She outran them easily, even while obstructed. They never spoke a word she understood, and the tools and structures they used were in disrepair.
Where was the power of her creator? Where was his limitless knowledge? Did these beings posses none of that?


Optional Listening (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jugVobGW_Q0)

She found her portal past the settlement’s borders. She dashed into its shimmering surface, and felt it pull against her flesh. She dashed across the entry walkway, and slid to a stop before the castle’s gates. She made her way down, through the shimmering halls and stairwells, to Zorael’s workspace.

He continued his work, weaving streams of water onto an ornate pole. She walked to his side, and lifted the item she held.

“Very good, Leviathan. I’ll see to its-“
He turned his head in surprise, and his pole immediately erupted into mist. He ignored the violent action except for a faint push to keep it away from them, and dropped to a knee. He placed his hands on her thigh, and examined a bullet he found driven into her flesh.

“You were shot?” He looked up to her face. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” she responded flatly. “I was attacked as soon as I entered.”

“I can’t believe it. Why would they attack you?”

He removed the bullet from her thigh, and her skin closed around the hole. He stood up and looked at her face.

“I’ll look over what happened after I’m finished with this object. Go and rest.”

“As you wish,” Leviathan replied.

She turned, and left the room. Zorael looked the item over, with a look of concentration on his face. He slumped his body against a wall, and let it fall gently as consciousness left him. A faint glow covered the strange item, and it seemed to fade from existence.[/spoiler-box]

Author's notes:
[spoiler-box]I'm sorry about the music choice. I heard this song, and I had to use it. I'm sure the lyrics are terribly distracting.

I hope Levia's first chance to star did not disappoint. I felt it was still missing something, but I couldn't figure out what. Emotion, to be sure. But that's par the course for a character with none.
I felt I spent enough time working on this chapter though, and I couldn't find any other way to enhance it.[/spoiler-box]

Second Analysis: Observation (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3213698&postcount=232)

[stukasa]

[spoiler-box]It's been a while, I was wondering when you'd release the next one! :D You certainly did a good job showing off Levia's abilities, it was fun to see how easily she evaded (most) of their attacks. As for what the chapter was missing... hmm, maybe a bit of buildup before they started attacking her? What I mean is, you could've spent a little more time highlighting the absurdity of the situation: a celestial alien fish woman, a band of freaked-out humans, probably a first contact scenario? The humans could've started out wary but not hostile until they misconstrued something she did, and at *that* point they would've started attacking her. Well, your way worked fine too, that's just my input since you mentioned it.

Looking forward to her further adventures! ^^[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

Yes, I've been finding myself with little time and less energy lately, and writing is pretty exhausting for me. I'm trying to push myself forward, but it's been getting tough.

Especially difficult now, since for this next period of time, I have nothing really set. I have just an outline of what should happen, but not how to get there.

But, I'm finally at the place I wanted to be. I need to get through this part.

Also, I wanted to write a halloween special this year. But, I pretty much had to chose between progressing the story, or doing the special.

[Zorafim]

Second Analysis: Observation

[spoiler-box]
Optional Listening (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0muwEn_FQYE)

’Tense muscles. Narrow eyes. Forceful steps. Wild motions.‘

’Loose muscles. Lowered eyes. Slow steps. Dragging motions.’

’Relaxed muscles. Wide eyes. Light steps. Quick motions.‘


Leviathan tilts her head down, letting her hood hide her face. As she does, a man walks past her. He turns absentmindedly to face her. She tilts her head away in response.
He keeps walking.

She lifts her gaze, and peers out into the crowd once more.

Leviathan stood against a wall, facing a street with many passersby. She hid under a white robe, fitted loosely against her. Her hands and feet were wrapped tightly with white cloth. A hood hung over her head, hiding her piscine features. A white mask clung tightly to the bottom half of her face, hiding her mouth and nose.
All her body was hidden save her silken black eyes, which she took great care not to expose.

She peered out from under her hood into the crowd before her, studying each individual as well as she could. Posture, gaze, motions, muscle use; these things were supposed to express the thoughts of the individual. But, what were these thoughts? How did they relate to their motions?
She studied the crowd for answers.

A pair walks down the street, side by side. Their attention is turned toward each other. They take turns vocalizing at each other.
Their motions are light and energetic. Their postures are straight and tall. Their faces… the flesh is pulled high and taut?

An individual walks opposite of them. His attention is focused downwards. His arms are wrapped around himself.
His motions are slow and forced. His posture is slumped. His face… the muscles were straining, contorting his features.

A third moves at a quick pace. He looks straight ahead with wide eyes, and swings his hands furiously as he steps.
His motions are swift and exhausting. His posture is leaned forward. His face… the eyes are wide, the jaw is clenched.

Hundreds of individuals walked along the street, each focused on their own world. Each had a story, and each had a plan. And all of this was easily readable to one who knew how. Yet, no matter how many details she looked for, she could not.

Defeated, she turned away from the crowd. Her training incomplete, she turned toward an alley by her side. Between the debris and refuse, a faint droplet rippled in the air. She approached, and the ripple widened to a glyph, and opened to a mirror. She stepped through, and the mirror splashed against the ground where she once stood.


Optional Listening (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VJXnSFEg7Xs)

Zorael worked atop his bench, illuminated by the pure light reflected from the glass walls surrounding him. The air before him churned and contorted between his hands. As he worked, the image of a face formed in the center of the distorted air. With features youthful and meek, the image faded in and out of sight, like a reflection on a rippling pond. Try as he might, he could not maintain this image.
As Leviathan approached him from behind, the image was lost.

“It seems I’ll need more time to finish your new disguise. You will need to wear that veil a while longer.”
Zorael turned around and resumed: “Did you make any progress?”

Leviathan removed her hood and lowered her mask, allowing her hair to spill out over her shoulders. “I do not know what I am looking for,” she answered. “None of the expressions you mentioned seem as evident as you described them. I cannot determine whether features in the face are caused by expressions, or by natural variances in the individual’s face. Without this information, I cannot draw a connection between their actions and their expressions.”

“I was afraid of that,” Zorael replied. “You may have difficulties continuing without interacting with them, yet it is from fear of their response that you must study them in the first place.
Give me some time to prepare. Perhaps I can set up a more productive study environment for you.”

Leviathan stepped back in response. She turned away, and replaced her mask onto her face.

“Where are you going?” Zorael asked.
Leviathan turned back, and answered: “To continue studying.”
“So slow to discouragement. Very well, it is the best use of your time anyway.” Zorael answered.

Leviathan flipped her hood over her head, and walked away. Zorael returned his attention to his desk. At his command, the air distorted again, and the image of a youthful face flashed in and out of existence. Try as he might, this face remained but a distance mirage.[/spoiler-box]

Author's notes:
[spoiler-box]It seems as if this is the fastest I'll be able to work. I can't get to writing most days, and even the days I do, I seem to only be able to write a paragraph per hour. Even days when I'm very motivated to write, by the time I'm finally able to, my inspiration is replaced with exhaustion.
This is a tiring hobby.[/spoiler-box]

Third Analysis: Communication (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3234264&postcount=234)

[stukasa]

[spoiler-box]Are you a people watcher, Zorafim? :lol:

About your comments: I know the feeling, but I've found ways to work around most of the problems. Like you said, one problem is exhaustion. After a long day of work I don't always have a lot of energy left, and I need to be alert to be at my best when writing. It's just plain difficult to write when I'm tired. To get around this, one thing I do (when I can, which isn't always) is spend time throughout the day thinking up ideas, so when I get home I already know what I want to say. The words tend to flow much quicker that way.

Another problem is that I'm a slow writer. When it comes to writing (and drawing, too) I can take a while to get it right. I get around that by not writing linearly. I write whatever I feel inspired to write at the moment, even if it means skipping to the middle or end of the chapter. Sometimes I write stuff several chapters ahead of where I'm at. Then later I go back and fill in the missing pieces. Some people may have trouble with that method but it works for me. My stories are almost never written from beginning to end in a smooth fashion.

Another tactic I use is to give myself a buffer, which I'm doing at the moment. I've got about 26,000 words written in my next story so far and I'm going to need even more than that if I don't want to get overwhelmed by the end of it. I simply can't write 3,000 words a week, I don't have time for it. Of course, that method's not going to work for you in an ongoing project like this...[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

Third Analysis: Communication

[spoiler-box]
Optional Listening (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hcFtjdpDOtA)

He could scarcely hear the shouts of his crew, so deafened was he by the wind and waves. His ship was thrown side to side at the whim of the ocean, only staying afloat by the greatest efforts of his crew. Yet there was only so much they could do. The waves washed aboard, sweeping away anything not securely tied down. The howling wind ripped at the sails and the ropes, tearing off anything it could.
He had only just begun sailing. He was not prepared for a storm so fierce.

A sudden wave pushed the ship from the side. It tilted the ship, more and more, until the deck below him became instead a steep wall at his side. He clung tightly as he watched in terror the sea open wide beneath him, until it seemed a straight drop into her waiting maw. After what seemed like an eternity, the ship turned to right itself. As it did, a wave crashed on the ship’s other side. It struck across the ship’s deck, pulling anything it could down with it.
He struggled against the pull of the wave, yet his grip faltered. He washed off the ship’s deck, and into the freezing ocean below.

He writhed in the water, pushing against the current in a struggle to stay afloat. He could manage only swift gasps for air, not even enough to scream to his departing ship, before being dragged back down. The waves tossed him mercilessly, toying with him before finally pulling him down to the ocean’s depths.
Despite his struggles, the current pulled him deeper and deeper. Each flash of lightning became dimmer every time it flashed through the raging surface, before he was engulfed completely into darkness.

And then he broke the surface.


Optional Listening (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SnqPJv0UqKo)

He gasped, violently drawing breath to ease the burning within his chest. His lungs cooled, his body tingled in warmth, and his muscles calmed, as he rested against a pier he hadn’t realized he had gripped. It wasn’t until after he recovered that he noticed his surroundings. Raging waves were replaced by placid glass. Storming skies replaced with shining stars brighter than they should be. Freezing darkness replaced by a warm glow. And instead of an empty horizon, he spied a glowing tower in the distance.

He climbed atop the pier he rested upon. With no other place to go, he made for the tower. He marveled upon the path on which he walked, clearly neither natural nor man-made. He noted the water below him, and how he could see it down to its depths miles below. He gazed up to the sky in wonder, studying celestial bodies he had never before seen.
He was interrupted by the sound of displaced water.


Optional Listening (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=67fi9hDlh_Y)

He darted his head back to the source of the sound. The water’s surface rippled in fresh waves. Yet, he could not see what caused the disturbance.
He heard the sound again from behind him.

As he turned his head, he caught glimpse of a form falling beneath the waves. Rushing to look over the edge of the glass pathway, he spied the image of an enormous creature beneath the surface.
He jumped back, and rushed fearfully toward the castle in the distance.

As he ran, he heard the rushing of water behind him. Alternating left and right, it swiftly sped toward him. Before long, the water in front of him crashed upwards. A form, grand and fierce, hung before him. A head, large enough to swallow him whole, starred back at him with judging eyes. Wings spread wide behind it, and a body curled beneath it, ready to lunge the creature forward.
He took a step back in fear, and gazed upwards. A single motion from the beast would end his life, and he had no place to run. He did all he could; gaze up at the beast in helpless terror.

It slid back into the ocean.

The danger passed, he could do naught but gaze at the creature retreating into the shining abyss. How was such a creature possible? Why was his life spared? And where was he, where such sights as he had seen were possible?
He willed himself forward. He felt he was meant to enter the tower before him.



Optional Listening (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hDu9OOz7kxk)

His path ended with an open threshold. It opened to a grand room, as welcoming as it was imposing. Doorways lined the edges of the room, and curved staircases lead to doorways up above. Everything seemed to be carved from a single crystal. He spun around in wonder, admiring the details of the room. The floors shined, the walls sparkled, the rails flowed with the grace of a river.
And a dark pair of eyes not inches from his face stared directly at him.

His heart cramped in fear as he jumped back. Another otherworldly creature looked back at him, appearing as if from nowhere. Or had he missed her being there, being distracted as he was?
Though less fearsome than the sea monster he had encountered, it was nonetheless an unnerving sight. It was human in form, but not in likeness. A human shape was colored an inhuman white, with patterns of blue on her extremities. And she was clothed only in her own fins, falling from her arms, waist, and legs. Yet what struck him most was those eyes; black as midnight, and devoid of any feeling or warmth. Even the coldness of indifference was absent from them. Whatever thoughts were hidden behind their blank stare, they could be no more human than the beast that confronted him earlier.
Yet, like the beast which confronted him earlier, she did no more than stare at him. Was it even at him that she was staring? With those solid black eyes, it was difficult to tell.
The beast before was friendlier than it appeared. And he had nowhere to turn. Perhaps this creature was willing to help him?

“Hello?”, he asked tentatively.

She remained motionless.

“What is this place?”

She didn’t even shift her ghostly stare.

“I was thrown from my ship in a storm. Have you seen any sail past? Perhaps you know of a nearby port? I want to get back home.”

She gave no sign of acknowledgement.
Is she even alive?

He gave up. He knew not whether she was purposely being unhelpful, or if she lacked the capacity for even basic speech. If she had no human soul, why would she have human intelligence?
He studied her a moment more before his attention was drawn to the sound of steps coming from one of the doorways.

A silhouette of a man walked toward him. He was large and muscular, yet had a graceful shape and moved with a masculine elegance. As he walked out of the hallway’s hallucinatory effects, he could make out a dirty white cloth clinging to his torso, and light grey hair falling down his shoulders. He looked back with grey eyes showing both confidence and warmth. And more importantly, humanity.
Perhaps he would be more helpful?

“Hello!” he called out hopefully.

“Hello,” he heard in response.

The word was spoken with a thick accent. And in the next moment, he learned why. The man spoke with an alien tongue, spouting words he had never before heard. They were simple and beautiful, and spoken with unmatchable grace.

“Hello,” he heard from beside him.

He jumped in the air, immediately startled by the sound. The she creature beside him spoke!
The man in grey chuckled warmly at his reaction, before speaking another sentence he could not understand.

“What is this place?” he asked the stranger in a frantic tone. “And what is she? And that, sea snake outside? Mister, you gotta tell me where I am.”

The stranger replied calmly and warmly:
“This place am I home. Is she and sea snake home.”

He definitely did not have a grasp on the language. But, at least he could talk.

“Well, where is your home? I need to get back to mine!”

“Mine home… where sea is.”

He shook his head into his hand.
“Yes, you live in the ocean. But where?”

The foreign man seemed to struggle with his words, looking for a response for him.

“Look, I really need your help. I don’t know what else to do.”

“I… help you. You help me? I need your help.”

“You need my help? Mister, I’m in no position to be of any help. I don’t know where I am, or where this place is, or what anything here is. Why do you think I can help you?”

He gestured to the she creature in the corner.

“You help she tell.”

“…I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“You help her say?”

“Tell… say… You want me to teach her how to speak?”

“Yes”

He glanced back at her. She still stared forward, not having moved a muscle since he last looked at her.
He’d have an easier time teaching a dog to speak.

“Mister, I’m no teacher. And a language isn’t exactly something you can learn in an afternoon. I don’t think I can help you.”

“You teach, she learn. You get home.”

He spoke with his usual warmth, missing the command his words suggested. Was he just that confident? Surely he had to see how foolish this was.

“Alright… I’ll give it my best shot, as long as you help me get back home. I’m telling you though, nothing’s going to come of it.”

“Yes, yes.”

He led us to one of the back rooms, some pretty place overlooking the sea. The three of us spoke with each other, them in their mystic language, and me in mine. I spoke words to the stranger, he interpreted them to the creepy woman, and she repeated them back to me.
And I’ll be damned if she didn’t learn to speak in an afternoon.[/spoiler-box]


Author's Notes:

[spoiler-box]Too many mood whiplashes in such a short chapter. It's hard to set music to that.[/spoiler-box]

Fourth Analysis: Understanding (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3237288&postcount=244)

[stukasa]

[spoiler-box]Hooray, new story post!

I know what you mean. I've had a few chapters that ended up with six or even seven songs for that reason!

Anyway, I liked how you presented this chapter from a stranger's point of view. The places and characters we're already familiar with seemed very alien to him. I'm not sure how he ended up on Zorael's planet but I'm assuming Zorael teleported him there.

The best part of the chapter was definitely when Zorael couldn't speak properly. At first I was like, "Oh no, he's been cooped up there so long he's forgotten how to talk!" But of course that wasn't the case, and I didn't really think that. Although... that begs the question, what language are both of them speaking? Has Zorael been speaking in some sort of ancient language up til now and the man is speaking English? Or maybe Zorael HAS been speaking English and the man is speaking something else?

The last paragraph threw me for a loop because the entire chapter was written in third person up to that point, when it suddenly switched to first person.

P.S. Those Skyrim tracks gave me an overdose of nostalgia. :lol:[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

[spoiler-box]I'm always glad when I don't have to spell things out. Doing things from this guy's perspective made me lose out on a lot of information giving, but allowed me to give even more information about the place and characters, which is ultimately more important. I was hoping to use enough hints that the viewer can piece together what's happening even if he can't, and it looks like I did.

I considered actually typing out the exact words Zorael was telling Leviathan, but decided against it. It was hard enough to give him dialogue in a language I could understand, but making up words would be tough.
The way I'm dealing with language is, if the viewer can understand it, the character can understand it. It could be Zorael's speaking english and the guy is speaking german. But the way I prefer thinking about it, Zorael came up with his own language over the years, just to communicate with his creations. He certainly had enough time to.
So if you want a definitive answer, he's speaking some language from earth from some period of time where they had ships. Probably french?

I also considered having Zorael speak babblefish. I was laughing when I was coming up with this chapter (God, that must have been months ago...), having him speak nonsense while this character tried to make sense of it. It went against in-universe rules though (Where would he get those words? If he knew all the words, why couldn't he string them together properly?), so I had to settle for this.[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

&^%$ I forgot to lay a vague reference to something of minor importance in the next chapter! Now I actually have to work to make it make sense.

[stukasa]

&^%$ I forgot to lay a vague reference to something of minor importance in the next chapter! Now I actually have to work to make it make sense.
Or you can go back and edit your previous chapter, though I don't know how you'd feel about editing an already-published work.

[Zorafim]

Nope, not gonna happen. What exists exists, and shall not be subject to change. That's how we get stuff like Star Wars re-releases.

[stukasa]

Nope, not gonna happen. What exists exists, and shall not be subject to change. That's how we get stuff like Star Wars re-releases.
I'm pretty sure you won't turn into the George Lucas of fanfic writers. On the other hand...

** COMING IN 2017: "Daydreams of an Angel and a Fish: The Special Edition" **

** COMING IN 2020: "Daydreams of an Angel and a Fish: Episode 0" **

** COMING IN 2023: "Daydreams of an Angel and a Fish: The Original Version, Remastered!" **

** COMING IN 2026: "Daydreams of an Angel and a Fish: Brought to you by Disney!" **

[Zorafim]

Oh I can assure you, there will be an episode 0. I have already been tempted several times to go over a few missions Zorael went through while he was still a full time angel, but adding that to the schedule would take time away from Levia, and we can't have that.

And I would be down to collaborate with Disney for this. I don't know how they would handle dream 5, but they've been known to tackle violent source material before I suppose.

** "Daydreams of an Angel and a Fish: REloadjence!" **

[yoshiblue]

Nope, not gonna happen. What exists exists, and shall not be subject to change. That's how we get stuff like Star Wars re-releases.

Pretty much how I feel about my entries.

[Zorafim]

Yeah, worrying about what you've already done is no good. It's better to just learn from what you've done, and use that to make something better next time.

[Zorafim]

Fourth Analysis: Understanding

[spoiler-box]
Optional Listening (https://www.youtube.com/watch/?v=Ap2O-MkF81w)

Two people sat opposite each other on a table in the front corner of the restaurant. They were both young, and of different gender. They leaned close to each other and spoke silently, rather than raise their voices over the ambient noise.

An individual sat on a table against the back wall. He gazed out to the crowd, eating his meal slowly as he watched other groups enjoying their night. His motions were heavy with fatigue, and his face showed signs of stress and wear.

A group numbering over a half dozen sat off the center of the room. They carried many conversations at once, each competing to be the loudest.

A man entered the building. He spoke with the server at the entrance, catching glances out to the room between words.

Leviathan sat in the midst of the diners, hiding beneath her white robe. Her hooded face looked down to a plate of food. The flesh of a creature not too different than those that sat around her, garnished with leaves of organisms far more simple. It does make some sense; they consumed items that contained materials they required, but lacked. Inefficient, but they could do no better.
She looked around the room. No matter what they did, each individual consumed their serving before they left. It was the function of the establishment, after all. She would have to consume hers as well.

The man at the building’s entrance finished his conversation. He walked into the dining area.

It shouldn’t produce any negative effects. Her digestive track wasn’t very efficient outside of her usual diet, but it could pull some nutrition out of these items. Though it seemed a shame these beings were used for such a minor purpose, the damage had already been done.

The couple at the front spoke of trivial things with enthusiasm. Their sense of joy seems to be heightened compared to most others in the building.

The food was already prepared. There would be no benefit in ignoring it, and it would make her situation less manageable if she did.
She picked up a fork, and moved her food a little with it.

The man approached her table.

The individual on the back wall looked to the big group in the middle with some interest. His eyelids drooped heavily, and he moved his utensils absentmindedly. His vision drifted past them, as if his focus was drawn elsewhere. Yet his attention still held to them.

“I’m kinda curious to see how you’re going to eat that with a mask on.”


Optional Listening (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D6BOY5iCiOQ)

The man spoke to her. She hadn’t expected that.
He leaned on the chair next to hers, sporting a… smile? He pulled out the chair and sat in it.

“Is something the matter?” he asked, leaning forward onto his hand, “Or do you always dress like that?”
Was there something wrong with her robes?

“They make things easier for me,” she replied simply, placing her fork onto her plate.

“But they make things more dull for me,” he said in a playful voice. “Won’t you give me a peak underneath?”

The man in back dropped his gaze away from the party. He toyed with his food.
He seemed to crave companionship.

Rejecting the stranger’s request would be considered a confrontational action, putting him in an aggressive mood. Such aggression could attract the attention of those around her, creating a more difficult situation for her. Yet obliging would keep the stranger’s attention, as well as expose her features for those around to see. Neither action seemed advantageous.
She lifted her hand to her face, up to the hem of her mask. She lowered it, studying the stranger’s body for movement.

“You have a lovely chin, but I’m afraid that’s all I can see. Don’t tell me that’s all you’re going to show me.”

She raised her hand to her hood.
A path to her right led to the window. She could break through with a swift sprint, but there were many opportunities for people to rise to block her path.
She could make another path by leaping to her neighboring table. She would be above any blockage anyone could create, but would likely create more damage, which would attract the attention of anyone outside.
She could also make for the door, which would require time to open without causing damage. The path has potential to be blocked as well.
She lowered her hood, exposing her facial features to the man.

“Oh! A foreigner, how exotic! I thought I heard a bit of an accent.”
Accent? The sailor said her speech was flawless. She would need to spend more effort on her speech.

Her face was pale, with only a hint of pigment coloring it. Her eyes were colored a deep, vibrant blue. Her hair, still mostly tucked into her hood, was colored a deep grey, and almost appeared blue in the lighting. Her nose and chin were small, and her face was thin.

“I haven’t the faintest idea why you would choose to hide such a lovely face. You should take pride in yourself.”

Zorael’s illusion evidently held well.

Many heads from the nearby tables turned toward her, as did the single diner in the back. Their body language remained relaxed, however. No signs of aggression were evident.
The pair by the front window had ceased conversation, opting instead to show signs of physical affection. They were likely a mating couple.
The eyes on her returned their attention to what they were doing before they turned.

“Are you new to the city? If you would like somebody to show you around, you won’t do much better than me. What do you say?”

Having a human guide would speed information gathering, and make it easier to practice communication. But being tied to a human would slow down travel, making it more difficult to experience useful events as clearly as she preferred.

“I prefer to be alone,” Leviathan answered.

“Ah, spurned so swiftly,” he replied. “Then at least allow me to share this meal with you. I seem to have lost my chance at an empty table, and the wait for the next is so long.”

“I see no harm,” Leviathan answered.

She turned back to her food. She caught a portion with her fork and raised it to her mouth, emulating the motions she studied around her. She lacked the pleasure the other customers expressed as it passed down her throat, however.

The group next to her focused their attention to one individual, speaking loud enough to be heard by anyone in the building. They seemed to be celebrating.



Optional Listening (https://www.youtube.com/watch/?v=mz4uDncAqu4)

She walked the streets late in the evening, working her way over to the river. The streets were empty, but she still hid her head under her hood. Her illusion held well, but still did not know when it would break. Yet, in the silence of the night, she heard a disturbance off her path. Not knowing what kind of event would occur at this late hour which would cause this noise, she took the time to investigate.

She saw two men gathered around a third. One of them shot their hand out to grab the man in the center, and pulled his head back painfully. He whispered furiously into his ear, threatening acts of violence should the man in the center be unable to comply. The man simply whimpered in response.

He threw him, face first, into the ground. He pulled him back up roughly by the arm, and threw him to his partner. He then proceeded to strike him mercilessly in the gut. Now more overcome by fury, he no longer masked his voice. He shouted at his victim, asking about money owed to him. Their victim responded with pleas, asking for forgiveness and more time.
He was answered with a knee to his face.

They beat him mercilessly for several minutes, until his pleas and whimpers gave way to silence. It was at this point that they backed off from him. It wasn’t until now they noticed Leviathan, standing there silently. Both of them gestured threateningly at her, before walking off in the opposite direction.

She was surprise to see such aggression performed by humans to one of their own. She assumed violence was reserved for things that threatened them. In her time among them, she didn’t notice any serious shows of violence. What caused this, then?
She turned away from the scene, leaving the victim lying on the cold floor.

She continued for the river. She approached its bank, and looked down into it. She noticed a spot shimmering brighter than the rest of the surface.

She dove into the shining spot in the river. She did not emerge.



Optional Listening (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rLuN2qRkM4o)

Zorael spread his hands over his desk, focusing on the lance lying upon it. Steams of water flowed into it, feeding it and giving it shape. Its pole extended six feet, ending with a trident head on one side, and a half foot flanged spike on the other. The central prong of its head was a powerful spike extending a foot from its base. The two side prongs were thin axe blades, elegant and fierce, and extending to a point ending half the length of the main spike. A strip of floating water was tied to the head, tied in a ghostly hover.

The final streams of water flowed into the weapon, followed almost immediately by a sudden flash of distortion. When the distortion subsided, Zorael fell into a hunch over his desk, exhausted. Breathing heavy breaths, he began to chuckle to himself. The chuckle grew louder, until it grew into a violent laughter.
He then noticed Leviathan standing behind him.


Optional Listening (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G0NJf5acoFM&feature=youtu.be&t=24s)

He took the lance by its handle, and it spun furiously in his hand as his arm arced through the air. He slammed hilt of the weapon through the glass floor, shattering the walls of the room.

“I’ve done it! Today, century-long toil has borne fruit! I’ve achieved such mastery of my element as to create a weapon peerless in this realm of existence, powerful enough to slay even my most fearsome of creations, let alone anyone else who may threaten my home. Its body made of the waters of an entire sea, its blade sharpened to a molecule, its form perfect in battle, and most of all,”
He let go of the weapon, and pulled his hand forward. As he did, the weapon spun to life, throwing itself to his other hand. With three more wide spins, he brought it before him.
“It is made of a material I have full control over. Even the strongest of arms cannot lift it. And even if they could, I could easily wrest it from their grasp. With this, I need have no fear of any my mistakes on this planet, for I can destroy any being I bring into existence who wishes to harm my home. Nor have I need of God’s blessing to defend any from Satan’s army, for this tip can pierce as well as the harshest of light.
With this, I stand on my own with no fear!”

He lowered his lance to his side, and bellowed in a satisfied sigh. He then looked at Leviathan with a bright smile.


Optional Listening (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hePECHPOeOo)

“Ha, but listen to me gloat. Forgive me my boasting, but it has been a long while since I have had an accomplishment such as this. Tell me of your successes; did your studies bear fruit?”

She stood motionless during his proclamations, her only movements coming from her hair as Zorael spun his newest construct.
“I have. I was able to meld with the populace well enough to study them in detail. Though I still have difficulty holding conversation, I believe I am able to take an assignment with greater success with what I learned.”

“And my illusion, how well did it take?”

“It never broke during a vulnerable situation. They accepted me as one of their own.”

Zoreal slanted his head to the side.
“I should have known. It’s always the simple skills to learn that end up being the most useful.
Well, if you’ll pardon me, I can’t stand not knowing the limits of this weapon’s power. Come with me or wait here, I care not. The creation of this beauty has been a long thing coming.”

He walked out of the room, with Leviathan following closely after. As he did, the cracks in the room sealed.
[/spoiler-box]


Author's Notes:

[spoiler-box]Ha, so glad I never have to incorporate Leviathan's awareness again. Elegantly fitting in four scenes at once isn't easy, and I'm sure it was awkward to read through.

And if Zorael's joy at his weapon seemed too real... It's because it was. I've been wanting to use it since episode one. So, excuse me if I got a little emotional there.[/spoiler-box]

Fifth Analysis: Pride (http://www.pso-world.com/forums/showpost.php?p=3248290&postcount=263)

[stukasa]

[spoiler-box]Actually it almost sounded like Zorael was becoming a villain there. "Mwahaha, puny mortals shall tremble before the awesome might of my invincible new super weapon!" :lol:

I liked the scene with Leviathan in the restaurant, you set it up with a good amount of tension (would she be discovered? or wouldn't she?). I'm still not sold on the use of vocal tracks, though. The pieces fit well with the story but the lyrics were slightly distracting. It's like trying to talk with someone else talking next to you. You can do it, but it takes a little more concentration.

It was funny when you said Leviathan thought violence was reserved for threatening things. All I could think was, "She's *such* a tourist!"

The one thing I couldn't figure out was the time and place that chapter was supposed to be taking place. Maybe you kept it intentionally vague because you didn't want to give away how much time has passed in your story, or maybe you kept it vague for an artistic reason, like "the time and place don't matter, it could've been any place and any time and the result would be the same."

Anyway, glad to see you more active with your releases these days. ^^[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

[spoiler-box]Tourist! Ha, I love it! I guess that would summarize this whole arc for her.

Anyway, I'm not sure why I had such a breach of character for Zorael there. I think it's because I've been trying to build it up all this time (since Leviathan was just a guppy), and just saying "Oh yay I finished it" seemed like too little. I probably went overboard. But I had fun with it, and Zorael is allowed to be human now and again.

You're kinda right about my reasoning. Time doesn't really matter for either of my characters, so I feel it shouldn't matter for the reader (except when it comes to updates). I mainly do it because it's hard to fit it in elegantly. I just hope to cram in enough information between the lines that the reader stays with me. I actually lose a lot to that; I wanted Leviathan to have a delayed realization that she was being flirted with, but couldn't fit it in anywhere.
The place works the same way. They sort of meld together if they aren't important for anything else, so I don't feel the need to specify where I am. That's actually biting me for the next chapter, where I need to keep consistent with my world's rules while building a situation those rules wouldn't really allow.

And I'm still surprised the vocals are giving you trouble. I could understand if it was in english, but I just sort of ignore them as another instrument when it's another language.
I meant to keep that in mind while picking music out, but I just forgot this time around, sorry. There are plenty of Bossa Novas out there with no vocals.
I'm glad the tension showed. It's kinda hard to express that with a character that... doesn't express that. I was afraid I'd overload the reader with information.

As for my being active... I honestly want to crunch as much as I can before the cameo. I probably won't put out as much once the cameo hits, or once Levia's ready to go out on her own. Hopefully I can go strong until then.
[/spoiler-box]

[stukasa]

[spoiler-box]The vocals aren't giving me THAT much trouble but it's definitely harder to focus versus listening to an instrumental track.

Hey, if "crunching before the cameo" means you're putting out more chapters, I don't mind exploiting that. :D[/spoiler-box]

[yoshiblue]

Zora trying to win my heart with Jazz and Bossa Nova. Zora you sly dog. Pretty good chapters. Looking forward to the next chapter as always.Love how Leviathan just doesn't seem to grasp love. I also liked Zorael's comment on the simple things, because I find it to be very true sometimes. As for lyrics, I'll admit that it does slow down my reading, but what I do is focus more on making that image in my head than listening to the music. Or make that music just part of the background. Of course, that's just me.[spoiler]It didn't take me a few days to write a decent response. Not at all.[/spoiler-box]

[Zorafim]

I love jazz and bossa nova too. I've never had the chance to use them, though. Bossa Nova can pretty much exclusively be used in civilian areas (which I've only just now been able to incorporate), and jazz is pretty much the opposite personality types of both my characters. Now that I had the chance to use them, I jumped at it whole-heartedly. And forgot to find ones that had no lyrics.

[spoiler-box]And Leviathan does too know about love. She knows it's an altered state of experience between a mating couple, in which normal emotional defenses are lowered between the two in order to experience a heightened awareness of pleasure. At least, I think she's gotten that far by now. I lose track of character development sometimes.

And yeah, I may have been talking out of bitterness from work on that one. I did a thing not long ago where a major quality of life change took two keyboard strokes, while a minor change took a week of hacking away. Easy changes are just better.[/spoiler-box]

And hey, I'm almost caught up with your story. I think I need a page, or two. It's annoying reading something and not being able to comment on it.
You've really improved from what I read. Going nonstop, every week, for months, without break, does that to a person.

[stukasa]

And hey, I'm almost caught up with your story. I think I need a page, or two. It's annoying reading something and not being able to comment on it.
I just want to say right now, this is pretty much the worst thing I could've read. xD I haven't gotten any (public) comments on my last two story chapters and it's been making me more paranoid the longer it goes on. As it so happens, most of my regular readers have all told me they happen to be pretty busy these days so I'm not surprised when people don't have time to read right away, BUT my fear is this: If people put off reading my story and I continue releasing my chapters every week, pretty soon there will be 5 or 6 to read. At that point people will look at it and think, "Well I CAN'T read it now, there's too much to catch up." Or similarly (relating to your comment above), "I can't comment on the story until I'm caught up with it."

Let me dispel that notion right now. I can only speak for myself but yoshiblue and the other authors would probably agree with me when I say, emphatically, please don't hold back your comments because you're not caught up. We won't mind if you're commenting on an earlier chapter, I promise! Any and all comments are appreciated. As long as you mention you're talking about an earlier chapter there shouldn't be any problem.

...Just wanted to put that out there.