The Fisherman is a minor deity, sometimes called a demigod as an insult by the clergy of the stronger gods. He is known to be the weakest of the divines in the Althaen Pantheon, ruling over streams and the act of fishing. He is also known as the god of patience, waiting for the perfect moment to get the most out of any given action. He actually shares that domain with several other demigods, the Hunter being the only other with a large enough following to be considered more than a house god.
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Damû Rámeri
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I watch my latest project as he devours the life from a pair of gnolls, he is progressing faster than I had thought on most fronts but his growing addiction to life force is troubling.
Another gnoll rushes in and interrupts the feeding process by putting an axe into Tomas's side but the boy barely notices the axe over having the now corpses of his victims torn from his grasp. The gnoll panics as the boy rips the axe out of himself and the gnoll's grasp before throwing it aside.
The axe lands at my feet, the gnoll screams as it is tackled to the ground by a hand teen just over half it’s size. A strong specimen of it’s race but like most of it’s kin, too stupid to realize we are the predators not the prey.
I look into the eyes of my project as he begins to feel that on the gnoll’s life, the bleeding of his own wounds ceases and the flesh knots itself closed in seconds as the gnoll ages significantly past the decade or two that it probably would have lived naturally. The process has been refined enough, but I do not like the look in the boy's eyes. He still fears and hates having to feed like this but can’t stop himself.
He looks around, ignoring the desiccated corpses of the gnoll tribe as he looks for another meal. He sees me and shivers, having learned that I am the one being he should never even think of trying to feed on. He is a danger to anything around him and I should write him off as a failure but since the only two peoples around are tainted and the Holy One's idiots, I don’t really care if he runs loose.
“Why do you keep setting me up to lose control?” the boy finally asks after staring at me for several seconds.
“I already told you, either embrace your instincts or they will rule you. Surrender to the current and guide it” I answer like the people I am thinking about ditching him on.
I glance to the southeast, a lot of blood and death happened in that direction recently and I want to have a look. Perhaps I can find a better base for this project. . .
“That doesn’t tell me why it keeps getting harder to stay in control!”
I don’t bother responding, he would not understand how the body and spirit are linked. His spirit was roughly equal to the body weeks ago but now the body has grown far faster than the spirit. Maybe starving the body for a time to restore the balance?
Hmm, I know how to bind and destroy souls but helping one grow is not my forte. Yes, I like this idea more and more. The Jade Empire owes me a few favors and I’ll be able to look into who managed to cause so much death among the Church of the Holy One.
“Tomas, shut up and take my hand.”
“No, not until. . .”
Stupid teen, I roll my eyes and just spend the extra mana for Mass Teleportation instead of Apportation. Of course, my own versions of the two spells are slightly different. The spilt blood flows along the floor forming I to the glyphs that set where we will be teleported to. The boy panics, remembering many other things that I’ve done to him before in a flash of bloody light we find ourselves standing in a courtyard of tiled jade. A white wooden gazebo behind me covered in more gold and jade while in front is a building of black marble, small but more Ethan large enough to have a few rooms.
My very presence slowly turns the tiles near me red but the two wolfkin ashigaru that stand guard remain where they are. Their jade tipped spears at their side. I am known here, welcomed as a guest but never to stay for long.
“Blood Immortal, why have you come?” a black haired kitsune in a robe asks as his five tails betray his worry over my presence.
“Relax, I’ll make some blood jade you can gift in apologies for what I require of the Brotherhood” I say as I try to remember who this kitsune is. It has been a century or two since I’ve been here, and I just can’t remember any black kitsune.
“What are you talking about and what’s going on?” my project asks as he restrains himself from trying to start a fight.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
“You’ll be staying here for a few weeks. Learn their language and anything they teach you. Also, their weapons are one of the few things your especially vulnerable to so I do not advise fighting them.”
I then turn back to the black kitsune who is frowning at my project. “Please tell me the uncouth peasant is not actually staying” the kitsune pleads.
“No, I want the Brotherhood to teach him some of the Way. He’s losing himself to the darkness I put within him. If you could help him become somewhat cultured while you’re at it I would be most grateful.”
“He must be terrible indeed if you the Blood Immortal known for his rudeness calls him so.”
“I’m immortal, that doesn’t mean I have time to refuse a gift thrice before accepting or dancing around a subject for hours before having alluded to all the details; I don't control time.”
“Will you at least accept the offer of tea?”
“I always have time for the tea of the Jade Empire, so long as you haven’t had to stoop to the tea the Althaen use.”
“Of course not, shall we?” the kitsune asks while motioning to the gazebo behind me.
I nod, making a minor bow. The minimum respect he must be shown as a host but any respect given by me is an honor to them.
My project follows the two of us, gaping at the golden inlays amongst the jade. The idiot probably hasn’t realized we’re in a giant spellform that ‘purifies' fiendish power.
As I sit at the intricately carved white wooden table one of the servants sets a silver tea set in the center for my host to serve from. Which he does in their ceremonial fashion, he is skilled and graceful managing to make characters with the rising steam, but the true significance is lost on me.
“You are skilled in this art” I say in complement as I taste the tea and smile, enjoying the blend.
“It was difficult to find a suitable plant; this land does not have the proper one and it shames me to serve you this.”
“There is no shame in failures that are not your own” I start before standing up, having finished the small cup, and saying “I would also like to see one of the seers while I am here.”
“Of course, but the peasant cannot be allowed in the Temple of the Void.”
I nod and turn to my project, “stay here. They will send a teacher who can speak with you when they are ready.”
I then follow the black furred kitsune to the building he was in before I arrived. The black marble and silver engravings far more to my liking than the gold and jade of the rest of this outpost. Soon we are in a small room with a silver pedestal holding up a crystal bowl filled with pure water. The grain of the marble somehow matching the stars of the night sky perfectly, the constellations seamlessly lining up to the night sky. I can’t feel the magic that must be involved but I have been in similar rooms before.
I pause for a moment, where is the seer? Unless, I turn to the black kitsune who smiles.
“As the Forty-Eighth Keeper of the Flames of the Void what is it you wish to ask?” the black kitsune asks as his eyes fill with the black emptiness of the strange magic he practices. The slightest runs through my body as I am once more reminded that this specific kind of magic might actually be able to harm me.
Forty-eighth, so it’s been three generations of seers since I’ve visited. No wonder I didn’t recognize him, he probably was a kit or a thought when I was here last.
“Some months ago there was odd spatial disturbance near the Bloodclaw, a few days ago a lot of Althaen worshipers of the Holy One died near them. What details can you see about this?”
The kitsune seems to chuckle but no sound comes out, his mouth moves as he says the very words I asked him. His eyes rapidly move for several seconds before they stop and he grabs ahold of the crystal bowl. An inky blackness blooms from the center of the clear water and the stars in the sky and marble of the room begin to spin. A black fire burst from the bowl as it becomes fully black and then everything returns to how it was in an instant.
The black kitsune stares at the once more clear water before saying words that make no sound but the water ripples and show them in text. Behind them an image of a black dragon and a man facing away from each other.
A boy, no a man came from a beyond the stars; touched both body and soul. A dragon who breathes light and emptiness gathers a hoard most strange.
The image shifts, now three gates, rifts in a triangle held on one side of a balance while the other a sword and chain.
Power enough to end the struggle, gates close or open, they matter not. His chosen returned to the true world. Others dead or damned again.
I frown as this is not helpful to me. So, someone was brought in or sent from another plane and there’s a dragon I don’t recognize by the description. The rifts are almost certainly the portals that started the whole demon invasion mess and this person or dragon will bring some people to another plane. Not much to go off of, bit it is more than I had.
“Thank you, Seer” I say just as the darkness leaves the eyes of the kitsune. He doesn’t even seem as tired as the last seer was after their Communion with the Void.
“I am afraid I must now retire, Blood Immortal.”
I bow slightly to the kitsune before following him out of the building. Once more in the Jade courtyard I look over to a stack of jade slabs and almost consider just leaving. I’ve already fulfilled what I said I would do in that several of the tiles on the floor have turned blood red due to my presence, but I know what they will use blood jade for.
I step up to the pile and cut my hand open with a jade blade handed to me by a servant. I let my blood roll over the dozen slabs before recalling my blood to me. The Jade stays its color even after the cut is undone.
I ignore the looks that the peasant soldiers give and in an instant, I use Apportation. With a burst of sound only I’d don’t hear I now stand in a scorched forest. Now to sunder the veil and call on the souls of the dead. . .