Requiem.
Yes, careful use of this style of grafted speciation will be a great opportunity to express our power, and offer us better options, hopefully, than needing to crush opposing yet deafened, fellow sapients. We’ll continue to take it slow and steady for now, as modifying an existing template could prove more difficult. {Caution advised for integration of Deep Mind.}
Hmm, yes… What would happen if an active DM head were to be severed or worse, annihilated. If we became used to that sort of complex processing being active at even a far less efficiency increases than the fog demonstrated… We would likely go mad until it was restored.
The three parts of us turn towards this new representation of a liability. We reach up and grasp at our neck and tear it from us, crushing the skull under foot. Keeping ourselves calm, it takes about a minute for the head to regrow, and since we were paying close attention, we could feel the moment when the brain was destroyed, a stutter in our minds.
Fortunately, when we repeated the test by snipping and crushing the unique head, devouring both to recycle, it shared practically identical respawn timing, and returned in its modified state. So, we wouldn’t necessarily be crippled for long in battle, but it could certainly get us killed in a heated confrontation.
Of course, that assumes that the hydrenaline doesn’t go berserk and the replication isn’t mutated without a proper governing force. “{Checks and balances, no single point of failure,}” will have to be the protection we employ, eventually. Temple seems a viable stabilizing force, but best to not be reliant on our body being drenched in that potent cocktail for victory.
Make progress towards mastering what we become at each new step to not be reliant on chance to achieve success, that’s our path. We can’t allow ourselves to become lost in the minutia of false perfection that will come with time. We just must keep moving forward, especially when we find ourselves suffering setbacks.
As we look around our little slice of paradise, we breathe deep of the tranquil air. Capturing a moment of peace and freedom, as if to lock it inside us. All those centuries we spent rooted in place, having collapsed under the weight of our growth, and then further by the burden of our colossal strength. We had to learn patience then, meditation.
We know that forward movement doesn’t have to mean large changes. Not even the great mages would build a tower from a single crag of stone instantly. However, even setting a single brick at a time can build wonders, so long as each next is set in time. And for now, our next bricks involve hauling the rest of these chunks of ore to their proper places.
After the first week we noticed a strange conflux having formed in the center of the caldera. The warped trees and the undead thicket that now surrounds them under the cleared canopy have begun to produce more of the mausolenium. We’ve managed to clear out the majority of the massive boulders of the former hellstone that crashed after the storm broke apart.
Now though, the ground around that space seems to be drawing up more stone from beneath the soil in shoots and spurs and we’ve decided to see how that unfolds. The blueprints on some basic formations we were given about general practices in domain work and environmental engineering allow plenty of tolerance or deviations of that sort.
The advice we were given, and our DM corroborated to what degree it could, has already shown noticeable improvements. That and the various ritual shrines we’ve noticed on our rudimentary worksites from our {not-colleague} has greatly augmented the rate of progress. We believe it seems likely she is either trying to hurry up this boring work, or just has enough expertise to offer that it pains her to see such shoddy workmanship, perhaps both.
Regardless of her motivations the feedback our DM is getting from |Tranquil Glades| has been tremendously more in line with our desires. One concern we have about our plane getting connected more strongly to the outside worlds is ensuring the proper gradient in how the Domain is expressed. We wish to be peaceful, while demonstratively not harmless.
Currently, with the majority of how the area feels, especially considering the flavor of dominate arcana, we have the soft speech down to an effective ideal. The trick is to create a big enough deterrent so that this gentle place doesn’t have to become a strangling mire to protect itself. And despite how quiet the more hostile aspects of undeath are throughout this place, DM assures us there is a survivor kept concealed beneath its civility.
---
It takes us a few more days to set up the last of the array within the mountains, and then another week to inspect and modulate the earlier work into an ideal configuration. During that time, we noticed that the thicket in the center with its excavation and transmutation of various rock has converted the area into what appears to be a focusing array.
Glancing internally at the components that were used to solidify Elysian Fields within our soul, we suspect that quite a bit of our Deep Mind was present and anchoring into this first conscious expression of true power. The taint of corruption from the hellstone has shifted in this new entity, altering the possible trajectory of its life.
The gathering of all those sources of power and being present at both the birth and death of the hellstorm has changed the massive tree. Surviving where others did not, being strengthened by the changes where others merely warped and sickened. Those factors combined with the conversion of the primary arcana into undeath and this being at a conflux of lives lost and changed has awakened a giant.
[Arboranshee, “Axis of the Soul Tempest”; tier 4 base sacred beast, profound threat, Guardian of |Tranquil Glades|]
[G: Firstborn Mantle, A: Undeath, S: Elysian Fields, M: Sapient (Ancient), O: Tempest, D: Stygian Wood, E: Witness]
“{Bright Morning to you Axis. How faired your night?}” The response we get, a susurration of nigh deafening magnitude, the feel of acres of earth and stone beneath us, holding us tightly, feeding us. The night sky stretching out in all its wonderous glory with too dim stars shining upon us. The thousands of creatures bedding down or stalking out in the cloak of darkness, and then we see ourselves as they see us. A brilliant flare of power, a wellspring of magic and whirlpool of purpose just gliding about the surface.
We breathe as we endure their speech, gentler now after these weeks of practice, but still awesome in its intensity. We take a moment to settle ourselves, “{Excellent to hear. We’ve done our last round of checks on the formations, while Mr. Supra hasn’t returned with our information yet, it feels like the right time to venture forth. We know you’ll protect this place in our stead, just take your time germinating your abilities. We expect your powers to be comparable to your voice, so take care around those weaker than yourself. Trust our magic if the need arises though, let nothing stop you from defending yourself or our home.}”
A crackling series of explosions resounds overhead, as wind, lightning, and stone-that-burns crash around us. The pain of limbs breaking, the fear as the connection we have with our kin is strained, and the disgust as we feel our very selves changing against our will. Until there is a clean breeze that gales through the forest, we see the thicket as it is planted, striving to grow. We feel ourselves think with thoughts at pace with the breaths we hear from the creatures around us. We see the weight of our voice on the one who gave us Life in how they recoil, yet they rise again. The voices of the forest echo above and around us as our roots finally reach the last of the mausolenium ores. We [Eternal Watch] for the next guest, [Silencing Serenade] at beck and call.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
“{Thank you, Axis. Should any of our siblings find you before us, tell them about us if you would. Brother Wolf’s memories of our old lives were saddening. If the others are willing to be decent guests, I would ask you to Host them for us. Our old lives were unkind,}” and with our farewells complete, we nod once more to Axis before we [Step] into the Skeletal Thicket wrapped in our [One with Nature]. The odd collection of part creature, part silva and thoroughly soaked in arcane undeath makes for an easy transition place for our first Journey.
Content as we are, to simply arrive wherever we’re being taken; we infuse our will with only the intent to travel, to explore, to learn and experience new things in this wonderful life and gift we’ve been given. The Journey itself is strange, we never feel the terrain around us change, but we could tell after a few steps that we were no longer in |Tranquil Glades|. When it comes, the change of skeletal woods swaying in an unfelt breeze into many creaking, blacked clawed silhouettes seem to arrive both in a single moment, yet also with familiarity as if the change was happening over a long time.
Aside from the trees, it is the light that first snares our attention. Whatever the celestial body there is now above us in this place, it is decidedly not our moon nor sun. Far more massive in scope than either, alongside seemingly less light than either. Truly an alien vista, above and beyond the new bevy of powers and abilities we’ve experienced.
“{Beautiful.}”
Ample Surveyor 42. Good work is never done.
The intake process glitched for a moment. The line of souls that were delivered were easy enough to catch and transport, but the first one that entered the System
“But if I don’t deal with this properly, no one will. And then the VIPs will file complaints against the department…” and a sigh follows that comment. As the Surveyor makes its way through the checkpoints it first notices the garbled mess that the incarnation program has made of the mass of souls.
“Seriously? Just eleven ticks to unleash a calamity?” The Surveyor parses through the data stream of the other processes that were *supposed* to be working on the transfers. A silent moment of dumbfounded misery passes as the counter of application rejections quickly grows to ludicrous numbers.
“Why are you querying Males about spontaneously giving birth to Monster-twinned children!?!? -No, stop. I don’t actually care to hear your reasoning. -I just said I didn’t want to know, and why would you ever expect that kind of marketing message to work? -Nope. Don’t want to hear that either.
“Consider this an unannounced onsite inspection, okay? Also, critical violations and failure, for all you lot. Now, turn in your keys and get some defragmentation and updates done. Let me see about fixing this disaster you seem determined to create.”
The first thing the Surveyor examines is the sales pitch these null heads put together. [/Q: [Instantiate monster-twinned soul.] You are required meet the developmental needs] “Holy fuck. Nobody actually said Yes to that, right? -Good. The planes do Not need more of *that* sort on the lower levels.”
Taking another infinitesimal moment of time to compute, the Surveyor begins rewriting the Quest prompt and updating the search parameters, “You can’t ask just anybody to have a kid for you. You’ve got to find the right environment sometimes if you’re aiming for the ideal outcomes. It’s all about baiting the right ponds.”
/[/Q: [Twinned-Soul Migration.] Give birth]
Jeanne Wraithmare. A Tombmarrow’s flight.
The tears haven’t stopped falling. The blurring vision barely noticed anymore with the pain coursing through her mind and body. She’s only thankful that he somehow managed to distract their pursuers long enough for her to get away from the estate.
She never expected to really unleash her clan’s Wraithstorm Dragon. It was a ridiculous idea and a cursed slip of the tongue. And now, she’s alone, “Jack. You stupid, stupid man. Why me? Why’d you have to love me?”
Her once fine clothing now covered in the mud of these old battle trenches. Another bout of contractions forces her to stop once again. The first one brought her to her knees before the blast wave of the dragon’s roar of freedom washed over the area. And with it, the gem of his promise ring shattered, and she knew he didn’t make it out in time.
“It’s not fair. IT’S NOT FAIR! Why did he have to die after all this… We were so close,” she slides down to the ground, no longer able to stall out the labor any longer. Concern for her child now the only thing on her mind as she sits back in the sludge.
[New Quest available: [Twinned-Soul Migration.] Give birth]
[A group of Drifters have been transferred to Ample after a new Realm Integration was completed]
[To reward their efforts, they have been given a fresh start and to aid in this, a newly lost soul was brought along with each of them to be given another chance. Would you accept the privilege and responsibility to care for this Brightblood Human]
[To aid in ensuring that the cross-realm soul travel had no adverse effects on the new souls, you will be provided with [Ample Midwife] treatment for the births]
[In addition, free transportation will be supplied to a location based on a [Consensus Scan] of accepting parents. Families will be provided contact information upon your request]
She takes a few long, shell-shocked moments to comprehend the messages. Unable to get up again, she takes one more look at what would have become her wedding ring, “I accept.”
Immediately, the pain fades away as she feels vitality and more infused into her body. The muck that was covering her cleaned away as a field of pressure enveloped her. The rest of the birth goes preternaturally smoothly. Her son levitated to her first, being washed and doctored in midair before being brought to her bosoms.
The infusion of energy changes then, her stomach not having deflated after his birth, but her eyes are only on him, the pain not returning as the [System] does whatever it needs to accomplish, “Hello Priest. That’s the name your daddy picked out for you. You’ll be Priest Sunovjack. Our precious, darling boy.”
Another infant’s cry pulls her attention away from her firstborn’s face, sounding like the soft bleating of a goat or lamb. The second child hovers over to her and she reaches out for him, bringing him to nurse as well, “And you, my little miracle. What shall we name you, little one?”
Then her blood seems to freeze at the echoing rumble of an apex monster sounds from far too close. She pales as she looks up and sees the face of the beast that was caged within her clan’s castle, “{Mine~.}”
Those terrible eyes, full of so many souls stare into her own, locking her in place. Paralyzed by fear she barely understands its cursed speech, no longer ablated by the wards of its prison, “{We~ smelled~ Death~ and~ Life~. Fate~ and~ Fortune~. The~ child~ is~ ours~ to~ claim~. In~ thanks~ for~ freeing~ us~, you~ will~ be~ spared~. For~ now~.}”
The sinuous, bladed tail comes into view and reaches towards her. Still, she cannot move, cannot think, petrified in terror by the dragon’s full presence. It is only when it pauses near her that she starts coming back to her senses. As the deadly tail gently sways, fascinatingly in front her body, “{Which~ one~ is~ it~? It~ does~ not~ matter~, its~ mark~ will~ be~ ours~.}”
As the tail lifts and starts to pendulum back across, its words finally break her free from her shock. She screams in her mind and as loudly as possible, “[System] TRANSPORTATION!!”
In less than an instant she and her babies are gone from that place. As she finds herself gasping for breath in a room she doesn’t recognize, she does her best to calm down her now fussing children.
[System Communication Link Established]
“{We~ have~ your~ scent~ now~. We’ll~ find~ you~. Jeanne~.}”
[System Communication Link Terminated]
[Monster speech suppression Activated]
There are long quiet moments as she rests in that new bed. Holding her children tight, trying to process everything that has happened today. But there is one thing that comes into focus while she acclimates to the soft chatter of townsfolk she can hear beyond the walls, “Trench. Trench Miracle is your name. Now, Priest, you make sure you help take care of your little brother, okay? Momma’s going to make sure we’re all nice and safe.”
[New Arcana: Retribution Acquired!]
[New Title: [Dragon Scarred] Cheat death]
[You survived an encounter with a dragon, and even thwarted its schemes. The experience has left a scar on your soul that will manifest upon your flesh. [Terror Resistance] Acquired!]