It is currently night out. Imogyeran is standing upright inside the late Lopez’ cavern while ‘
Aran’ and the rest leave his body to himself.
The boy starts wobbling from the sudden surge of control over his body but barely catches
himself while surveying his surroundings.
It is his first time being inside a glowing cave and the unnatural light combined with the acidic
smell contributes to Imogyeran’s disorientation.
Where am I? What happened? Many questions could be interpreted from the boy’s confused
stare but before he is able to put into words any of them, Imogyeran is attacked and thrown to
the ground by a near-materialized ‘Donmir’ snuggling up close to the boy. In this short but
long moment of comfort the boy realizes something: Imogyeran Ashenwald has finally
returned to his rightful home.
A smile blossoms on his face as tears trickle down to water and nurture it like a sunflower on a
rainy day.
For the next few minutes the little boy mostly ignores the rest of the group and only
occasionally greets Gondo with a few words while diverting most of his attention to ‘Donmir’,
who in the meantime has developed to a point that Imog can now properly snuggle up to him.
The atmosphere might be awkward were it not for the bright and innocent joy-filled laughter
emanating the eerie cavern.
After having sufficiently calmed down and returning back to a ‘mostly normal’ state of mind
the Altara ‘Aran’ decides to finally introduce himself to Imogyeran.
The introductions have already been predetermined by ‘Aran’ with a little help from ‘Donmir’:
‘Aran’ got Imog caught up with the events of the last three weeks following after his fall from
the cliff and his body’s current situation. He introduced himself to the boy and also gave the
curious child a basic backstory about himself.
The Altara patiently answered any questions that the boy asked and his attitude was visibly
caring and polite.
Aranero Ciempies are mostly territorial and do not interact with others of their kind unless for
the purpose of mating and the immediate time after. After two weeks of being pollinated by
the male specimen the female specimen lay their eggs. The number of eggs can vary between
5 and 30 and their size is very small compared to the adults’ body-length.
During the time leading up to birthing the new generation the male specimen will closely
guard the female one and they will form something like a temporary family.
Once the eggs are extracted from the female’s reproductive organs, they are divided into two
groups of equal size and both parents each take one group of eggs with them to protect and
foster until they grow up.
It is a matter of protecting their family that gives them strength. The Aranero Ciempies are
animals of love.
The hatched children are protected and fed by their responsible parent for the first few
months.
Once they develop their ego, which typically is the time of their first ingestion of food
containing or being related to spirits, they start developing a type of ‘fever’.
The young children start crazing over each other and doing cannibalism, feasting on the
other’s bodies to grow their own. This brutal massacre of a battle continues until only one
child is left. The newly crowned winner’s body will have transformed into that of half the
length of their parents bodies.
It is a matter of caring for oneself. Their senseless greed for growth crazes them and
transforms the Ciempies to ruthless monsters. The Aranero Ciempies are animals of Greed.
Is he a child looking forward to growing with endless ambition? Or is he an adult wanting to
step back and to protect the next generation?
During his previous life, ‘Aran’ never needed to ask himself this question. Greed was all he had
ever known and it was the driving force behind every one of his actions.
Then what was this situation? ‘Aran’ still wasn’t sure about this himself.
He parented a lost boy, put in the effort to make him trust himself; he tried to fulfill every
small wish the child had and through it all he had a gentle smile on his face.
Upon the boy’s request he transformed into his many-legged form and took the excited
Imogyeran on a flight through the forest.
Imogyeran simply enjoyed ‘Aran’’s company and he simply loved the exhilarating feeling of
riding on this flaming behemoth as long as a serpent and as ferocious as a storming cloud. On
the ride he mostly resorted to exclaiming his wonder and happiness in loud shouts while
holding on tightly to the body of ‘Aran’, while ‘Aran’ took care not to stray into the dangerous
territories of this forest while simultaneously taking care that Imog didn’t fall.
The chemistry between the two was off to a good start, was it not?
…
After getting to know each other for a bit it is time for the main order of business. For the sake
of efficiency and Imog’s personal bias the rest of the conversation is held within his own
consciousness.
Inside of Imog’s original bedroom there is a group of 6 people ‘sitting’ on the cold floor.
Imog is leaning his back against the wooden frame of his old bed while ‘Donmir’ is placing his
puffy body on top of the boy’s lap. ‘Aran’ positioned himself opposite to him, careful not to
lean against the other bed and instead floating in a crisscross position.
As usual Gondo does not get involved further with the group and withdraws into a corner of
the room to keep away from them. This is mostly done due to the nature of his existence and
the detrimental effects of them on Imogyeran’s mind and body. Gondo’s role is that of an
observer, nothing more and nothing less.
‘Naga’ and ‘Mabo’ are sitting between all of them in the middle of the room. The first point of
priority in this meeting is focused on their wishes for the future.
Imogyeran, who heard some of it from ‘Aran’ before, is unsure on what to feel and for now he
keeps his face blank the way he learned from a young age on. His hands continuously run
through the squishy texture of the body that is ‘Donmir’.
He takes this stance even though he knows that they can read his mind while inside of this
place. It is almost instinctual.
<
Unknowingly he uses more formal language than usual. It might be the influence of the
current place of the meeting or his state of mind but Imog seems to regress back to his old
role... or maybe a new role?
Interestingly enough the two of them both take a knee in front of Imogyeran. ‘Mabo’, who
basically takes up the form of a gray-hooded skeleton with brown leather-gloves and gaiters
makes it seem natural but in the case of ‘Naga’, who portrays herself as a white-eyes silver
serpent with a blue underside and shimmering scales, simply lowers her head to the ground
from her rolled up position. It almost comes off as the motion a rattlesnake takes before
initiating an attack.
<
Along with the surprising gesture of respect the shocking words of submission result in a
tangible confusion inside of Imog himself. It is hard to tell from the complexity of emotions
reflected from the walls, ceiling and ground but a certain sadness at the statement cannot be
denied from existence.
Imog decides to remain silent gesturing for them to continue speaking. His hands visibly cramp
up and contract around his closest friend.
‘Aran’, who is also surprised at the situation, decides to watch the two of them closely and
observe their decision as a reference for his own decision in the very-near future. Gondo
retains his silence and nonchalance.
< because of me that your body ended up in that situation.>> ‘Mabo’ starts talking. He narrates of his own feelings and perspective, I considered you a friend and I still do but what I did was an act of betrayal that I cannot forgive myself no matter what may come in the future. his own experience of the story. < were not good people but we didn’t care. Even now I do not care for my personality. But there is one thing my Master and I value over anything, even our own self-satisfaction: Our responsibility to our friends and loved ones. I have sullied my old Master’s will and gotten lost on my own way. What I want is to repent and to change something.>> and his own resolve to change himself. ‘Mabo’ lifts his head to look into the shaky eyes of Imogyeran, which are laced with uncertainty and fright, before speaking his next and second to last set of words. < Mambo Jambo, the politician and actor. I wish to become a part of your being, to serve as the strength behind your actions and to continue supporting you as a nameless part of you. I wish for you to consume me and to become my new eternal Master. Only then will I never be able to betray your ways.>> Imogyeran does not know what to say. The emotions inside his head are too complicated to express, to difficult to understand, too intimate to acknowledge. After a time that seems both eternally long and paper-bridge-short he stands up. ‘Donmir’ hops off his lap before Imogyeran slowly but surely makes his way towards ‘Mabo’ still kneeing in front of him. No words are said, the people inside this room are silent while the room itself is creaking as if being haunted by something. Slowly Imog starts stretching out his hand. He looks straight into the hollow eye-sockets of ‘Mabo’ taking one last look at the person that has been with him since his darkest moment of life. ‘Mabo’. A gray hood covers the slim skeletal frame of a slim man. Is this the skeleton of his old master? It is unclear whether anybody had this question when looking at him. Each hand is adorned with brown leather gloves. Each finger is decorated with golden rings indented with beautiful jewels. If you looked closely enough you could see that the rings are actually made of golden colored wood while the jewels are only glass-gems, which are illuminated from the inside using some kind of mechanism to create colored light. The gaiters are made of a durable and sturdy material seemingly not leaving much room for the legs to bend but it is an optical illusion. They are actually made to be flexible and easy to bend while looking like proper gaiters. The shoes match the gaiters and gloves with slight gray undertones for a better contrast. They are used but sturdy, old but flexible. When looking at the appearance of this projection of self, one must wonder what it signifies. Whatever it is… The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. < It is not important anymore. A second passes and another second. Seconds continue to trickle past before… the conniving spirit ‘Mabo’ has died. He has become a nameless part of Imogyeran Ashenwald. Only the tears from Imog’s eyes show proof of his life while Gondo’s look shows about his death. A wise man once said this: To truly consume something is to understand it, to appreciate every facet of its being and, at the end of the day, to kill it. If that is the case, how much does Imog truly understand the now nameless part of himself? In the silent room, where dust is covering many nooks and crevices of the ground and walls, Imogyeran shifts his head to ‘Naga’. ‘Naga’ has been one of the first spirits to take notice of him and has watched over him from a safe distance from a time even earlier than her predecessor in this conversation. Unlike the surprise he felt about his case, for a while now Imog had had an inkling of an idea that something like this might happen. ‘Naga’ lifts her head and reciprocates his gaze with a dignified stare unbecoming of her words. He gestures for her to speak and she opens her mouth to continue. Unlike the crazed voice of the deceased one, this spirits voice was smooth, high-pitched and dignified. <> Muramasa Origin, a Master of the sword and the Master of ‘Naga’ was a famous swordsman in his life. His style became famous during times of conflict but the true core of Muramasa- Swordsmanship has only formed during his early adult life. It was at that time that Muramasa reached a deadlock with his style. He found himself unable to progress and decided to work on himself to overcome the hurdle of his lacking talent. 10 Days. Muramasa Origin went down to his family’s garden and leaned his back against the nearest tree. He closed his eyes and focused his mind. It was Muramasa’s ambition to only ever get up if he managed to picture every single aspect of the sword he had been holding for his entire life. Day 1: His trained muscles had already grown sore from the lacking strain on them while his back and neck grew stiff and cramped. Muramasa’s eyelids remained closed. He could picture his sword’s blade but he could not for the life of his picture the sword’s heft. Day 2: It was a rainy day today. The tree above Muramasa’s head protected him from most of the rain but at the end of the day his clothes were still drenched. The nobleman’s behind and butt were already soaked in mud and his body was shivering from the cold. His teeth clacked against each other and his eyelids started shuttering. But he did not open them. He learned how to picture the grip of his sword along with the blade. But he could not for the life of him recall the exact patterns embroidered on sword and heft. Day 3: The veteran’s body began protesting and his stomach roared like a wild beast. The human Muramasa felt the restrains of his humanity. He thought about stopping, about giving up but ultimately was unable to. He did not open them. Muramasa remembered the embroideries on blade and heft but he could not for the life of him recall the exact form, color and embroideries on his sword’s sheath. Day 4. Day 5. Day 6. Underneath the shadow of a large tree there sits a dirty man with skin as pale as a lake in the winter. Open lips, snot running down the nose, all parts of his body are dirty and drenched to the bone. This disheveled men had his eyes closed. But interestingly enough he seemed... relaxed. Inside the man’s mind was a sword. It was drawn from its sheath and shone as the blade reflected the sky’s light. A stroke of text was reflected on it that read ‘Survive, my son’. Connected to the blade was the most beautifully intricate heft colored in gold and black as the handle flew inside his mind screaming at him to grab it. But he could not for the life of him grab it. Day 7: He got a step closer to the sword. The sky and ground had taken a blue color. Day 8: He got a step closer to the sword. The clouds became silver streams within the ocean that was the sky. The ground blurred into an endless front of water. He began sinking beneath the surface. Day 9: He started swimming to the sword and accelerated steadily on his way to the sword’s handle his skin was silver and his limbs seemed to stretch out like long whips of air. Day 10: Muramasa Origin was finally able to grab his sword. He gave it the name ‘Naga’. And he would never for the life of him throw her away. Muramasa Origin finally opened his eyes. < contrast to the Master I was used to now that I think about it.>> Throughout her story, one could feel the happiness and pride emanating from ‘Naga’. She was proud of her legacy and she was proud of her Master’s legacy. She would never for the life of her deny that this was ‘Naga’, sword of Muramasa Origin. This is the story that ‘Naga’ wanted to share with Imogyeran and his friends. < As her story comes to an end, ‘Naga’ turns to ‘Donmir’, who is sitting next to Imogyeran like a silent shadow, only listening to her words with 60% of his mind. < But it is this very life that she wanted to forsake now. <> With her scream the serpentine body starts to liquefy as she starts sobbing and begging to ‘Donmir’ and not Imog to. After the death of Muramasa ‘Naga’ had lost her very reason for living. But reality was cruel. A human’s life was naturally limited but unless they are killed, spiritual familiars are immortal. She could not die of old age but she could not bear to live a life without a purpose. But dying by battle also wasn’t an option for the prideful ‘Naga’. Never would she let herself purposely be killed without trying to beat them. It was that useless pride that eventually led her to Imogyeran. The ground becomes drenched in a warm layer of water that starts towering higher and higher until only the heads of ‘Donmir’ and ‘Naga’ are visible. ‘Aran’ retreats from the waves while the water seems to leave open spaces around Imog and Gondo. The lake of water starts consolidating and slowly contracts into a small amount in the form of a bathtub; circular and high enough to completely submerge the two. ‘Donmir’ just silently accepts her ritual and goes along with it in the same way as his master did. Imog observes what she is doing with ample amounts of curiosity. Why did this ritual not happen last time? Whether he asked himself this question or not is unclear. The difference between this situation is the difference between a person eating a tasty steak and a fish drowning in water. The person eating the steak might be consuming the steak, they might appreciate its tenderness, its rich aroma or its powerful taste when cutting off parts and putting them in their mouth. The animal that the steak originated from- can the act of consuming something be the proper way to appreciate the lack of life that is now in front of the person? A wise man once said this: To truly consume something is to understand it, to appreciate every facet of its being and, at the end of the day, to kill it. At the end of the day consuming does consuming something end with ingestion or digestion? Is it not unfair for the human to reap the benefits from eating the instant they finish their meals? Only by letting the body and mind absorb everything that the food threw at them will they truly be able to utilize it to the best of their ability. *Bubble**Bubble* The surface of this tube of water starts degrading: the transparent water muddies into a gray broth and gray bubbles start surfacing, gathering and popping out water to all sides of the room. It is hard to estimate the temperature of the water but going by these bubbles submerging it might be akin to a warm mud-bath. If the human Imog experienced a steak, then the spirit ‘Donmir’ is currently experiencing drowning. ‘Naga’ has been a spirit for decades now and is infinitely close to transgressing into the next stage of spirits’ adulthood. As such her vessel as well as her understanding of the nature of water is far superior to the still infantile ‘Donmir’, who was born within the last 5 or so years. In order to facilitate the proper space to be consumed, ‘Naga’ dispersed the core of a spiritual familiar’s being into the room and is now slowly permeating ‘Donmir’ from the inside and outside of his body. The process is not a short one as it will take days to finish. The participation of Imogyeran is also key to stabilize ‘Donmir’ and provide a proper shell for his vessel to grow. In other words: Imogyeran is going to be trapped inside his own mind for the next coming days. While the situation between these two is going on, somebody needs to supply the boy’s body with nutrients and water or else he is going to die before his friend is finished with the process of devouring ‘Naga’. Putting aside his personal feelings, which is something he seems to have learned a bit too well for his own taste, Imogyeran prepares himself for a mediate future of one week. In order to do that he needs to talk to the person, that is responsible for his survival: Finally, the long-awaited conversation between ‘Aran’ and Imogyeran ensues! Inside this isolated room there is a deep gloomy darkness permeating through everything and everyone. Gondo has made himself comfortable inside a crevice of Imog’s consciousness and tries to keep his exposure to the boy’s mind to an optimal minimum. Imog is sitting next to the now pitch-black pool of water, which houses the current ‘Donmir’ and slightly drives his fingers over its soft surface-layer. It is a gesture with no meaning, which is precisely why it holds of importance, at least that seems to be his firm belief as he repeats it on a regular basis. The boy’s body inside is directed towards the small imp that is ‘Aran’. ‘Aran’ is floating above the ground. His reddened figure is emanating a warm glow. Upon Imog’s request he has made himself comfortable in close proximity to the trio of Imog, ‘Donmir’ and the still not fully consumed ‘Naga’ to donate some of the residue warmth coming off his body. What the act of emanating warmth inside this place means remains a mystery for now. < Right off the bat, Imogyeran starts off with the most important question inside his mind. His memories from before the fall might have gotten a bit blurry due to his countless concussions and stress mingling with them but he still remembers the very last moments before his fall. < ‘Aran’ simply listens, imitating the figure of Imog he had seen just hours ago. <> Imog’s face is blank, almost detached from himself. The entire room has slowly taken a purple tan, most likely due to absorbing that spiritual familiar earlier. < the cliff. Second I wanted them to take care of my two friends so that they wouldn’t feel alone after I was gone.>> His gaze is level with ‘Aran’ as the two observe each other. <> A moment of hesitation runs a tremor through his body. It is obvious that the boy has already made peace with the idea of death but there seems to be something beneath the surface he is suppressing, though it is hard to make out. < Is this the crux of the matter? ‘Aran’ still keeps his mouth shut and listens to Imog continue his line of thought. < The quivering inside his voice grows stronger each passing second. ‘Aran’ takes this opportunity to take action. He levitates over to the visibly scared Imog and gives him a hug. The simple gesture is followed by a simple set of words. <> With these words Imogyeran breaks down in tears inside his own mind. … Time passes. ‘Donmir’ was able to completely absorb the stray spiritual familiar into himself and he evolved. Imog later gave him the name Dogogo to honor his growth. Due to the nature of his evolution he was going to be significantly less potent than before when it came to the control of spirits to create external or internal phenomena. This state of weakness would take him a long time even after Imog moved in to Hyoran’s place. ‘Aran’ used the body of Imog to hunt for prey inside the jungle. His hunting frequency was mountains above what he or Imogyeran would usually consume. The Altara used this opportunity to challenge the stronger creatures inside the forest and grew unimaginably. Imogyeran Ashenwald did not accept ‘Aran’’s request for friendship. His last experiences with flimsy promises gave the boy a terrible distrust against the word ‘friend’. Instead he gave the Altara a promise of his own to one day come back to take ‘Aran’ into his family. During his time inside the jungle, there was another interesting change within the confines of his own body. On top of his chest, there seemed to be a faint golden line, that seemingly appeared overnight. He did not know where it came from and frankly he didn’t care either. … .. < *Jump* < LEGENDARY! THE GRRRREAT! IMOGYERRRRAN ASHENWAALLD!!!>> *Punch* < < < back if you didn’t at least give me that much, Sis, Uncle?>> (Group hug) (let go) *step away* *step away* *Wave* < < < (silently)< < *Fwooosh* *Run* (loudly)< COME!!!>> .. .-. Cabanero. < Kalifas < Observe the potential candidates in Minoborgo and in Calesfasa. Cabanero can take care of the boy and Kalifas can look at the girl. When you arrive at Calesfasa look out for promising people. I have the feeling we are going to find another candidate there. <<< But this generation’s harvest is quite plentiful, now is it not my friends? < definitely true. Care to take a look at them with your own eyes, Master?>> Well, that doesn’t sound so bad, does it? Let this old man’s eyes see what they have to offer. Which one do you recommend me to see first, Silicitas? < tendencies similar to yours. The spirits he is connected with only ever spread good things about the boy, so he might be more susceptible to your ideals.>> That does certainly sound tempting. < position, so her long-term value might not be as high as we would hope for it to be.>> Long-term value. What a cold word to use for a child, is it not? < should be acting a bit colder for your age. I simply send a mental chuckle at her assertion. You might be right, you might be wrong. Personally I think I will visit the girl first. Something tells me that there will be an interesting surprise waiting for me. < you now. But you already know that do you not, my Master?>> Only another hearty laugh responds her as I shift my focus back to the path I am traveling on. In front of me there seems to be a person in dirty clothing coming my way. On closer inspection it is a young man with a not so appealing face and a pair of beautiful purple eyes. He seems to be struggling with something or at least that’s what I would interpret out of the scowl on his face. < He gives me a wry smile before thanking me in his own way. “What a nice compliment to hear from someone as visibly experienced with the world as yourself, esteemed elder.” For some reason his voice is causing a bit of a headache in my head, which surprises me a bit. I slightly stumble from losing my balance and the mysterious man catches me and supports my back before pulling out a half-empty flask of water from somewhere behind his back. < from me.>> The slight headache I had seems to be fleeting again so I conjure up a seating next to the road and the two of us take a break on the roadside. < on. Might I ask your name, my friend?>> The traveler seems to be looking somewhere into the distance before smiling and .--..--. .-.