Interlude: The Huntress is Watching. Don’t worry, it isn’t creepy.
Venari sat on her throne, in her hall, her own personal realm. In a few hours her hall would be filled with her warriors. They were currently out on missions for her, the Blind One was active again. Reports from the watchers came in every few minutes over the past two hours. The old man finally raised himself off the beach head.
The last report that came in, was that the Blind One was reborn with a snap of his fingers. After he was reborn into a young man looking like he was ripped out of a movie themed around 1920s Earth. That being had no taste in her books, she rolled her eyes at that mention in the report. What shifted her perspective on the future conflict was that he ripped a piece out of a world and summoned it to his world.
One minute he was on an empty beach, and the next there was an alleyway, the backside of which was incomplete. The watcher reported that the buildings were ripped, as if someone sliced a piece of paper in half with their bare hands and then placed the ripped halves on the beach. He carelessly walked down the alley until he came to the only fully intact building. A Bar.
Once inside the watchers lost track of what happened inside, but after an hour he left the building and returned to the beach. Watching something on a viewing portal, and drinking a dark red drink out of a paper cup of all things with a Tims logo on it? Venari just shrugged at that note.
The power of the Old Ones is beyond human comprehension, but not beyond her or the all father. The Old Ones are ancient and primordial beings of immense power and knowledge, but the Blind One’s power felt like it was grounded in more chaos and blood than anything else. Venari knew that the Old Ones’ power is rooted in the fundamental forces of the universe, and they are capable of shaping reality itself to their will. Based on the report, the Blind One, used that power to rip a piece of reality out and place it on his beach.
The Old Ones can create and destroy entire worlds with a thought and control the elements, the forces of nature. Venari knew a few of their servants that liked to bend the minds of mortals to their will. The power they controlled is both awe-inspiring and terrifying, as it can be used for both creation and destruction, and is often wielded with little regard for the mortal beings caught in its wake. Venari was trying to use her power to protect her mortal beings on Mors from this power.
A few on Mors risked everything by worshipping and doing the whims of the Blind One. She knew that those who seek to harness the power of the Old Gods must be careful, for they risk being consumed by it and losing their sanity, or worse, their very souls. Harnessing the power of the Old Ones could have disastrous consequences for all life on Mors.
“The Old Ones are often portrayed as chaotic and unpredictable for a reason,” Venari spat, talking to herself in the empty hall, “When will mortals learn these powers are beyond mortal comprehension? Attempting to control or manipulate their power could result in madness, corruption, or destruction on a catastrophic scale.” Her knuckles whitened as she gripped the arms of the throne, rage filling her heart. She just wanted to smash something.
She stood up and started to walk back and forth across the raised platform of her throne room, summoning her favourite axe: the Dragon Frost. She jumped down, bringing the axe down on a table freezing into a giant block. Kicking the ice shard she screamed, “The Old Fools demand sacrifices in exchange for their aid. When I help them it is an open deal, and agreement. Arg! Those monsters lead mortals to damning ethical dilemmas.”
She kicked over a few chairs before sitting back at her throne, picking up the last report and skimming over it. The Blind One is associated with darker forces and entities that could be unleashed if she mishandled the future conflict. Seeking the power of the Old Ones should be approached with caution and careful consideration of the potential risks and consequences which the wolf clan and scorpions are not capable of handling.
Just then as she puts the papers away into the dimensional storage, the doors to the throne room are flung open, a sudden burst of cold air blows through the feasting hall, carrying with it the scent of decay and the sound of eerie whispers. The torches on the ornate walls flicker and dance as they resist the intrusion of the freezing presence.
As Venari watches as they step into her domain, she feels an overwhelming sense of unease, as if they had disturbed something that was better left alone. The air grows thick with an oppressive energy, and the shadows seem to deepen, as if reaching out to snuff out the light.
Venari realises that the power of the Old Ones might be at work here. What if? Their wrath is not to be taken lightly. The very fabric of reality seems to warp and twist under the influence of their dark magic, and Venari knew that your mind and body could be pulled in strange directions. This was why she hated being assigned to watch Mors, the Old Ones claws never left that planet. Venari knows that if you are not careful, you could easily become a pawn in their twisted games, used to further their own nefarious ends. The power of the Blind one especially is not something to be trifled with.
Venari felt a deep sense of foreboding as she contemplated the consequences of meddling with their ancient, dark, evil and mysterious ways.
Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.
Thankfully it was one of her watchers coming to give her news. Her mind was playing tricks on her. She missed the battlefield, it was simple, crush the enemy in front of you. Venari hated all these games from afar.
Venari addressed her servant in a respectful and open tone, “I hope you brought me good news, Sister.”
The steampunk angel came into view, and it was a breathtaking sight to behold. Her wings were made of intricately crafted metal feathers, each one shimmering in the light of the goddess's presence. The wingspan was so wide that they almost touched the walls of the room. Every feather had been precisely designed and crafted, with a keen eye for detail, to make them look as real as possible. The way they moved as she walked, each feather shifting in a pattern, gave the impression that the wings could take flight at any moment.
The angel's body was sleek and elegant, with curving lines and gears visible beneath her delicate clothing. The metal of her dress and corset hugged her form perfectly, as if it had been tailored to her body. Gears and cogs were visible in the seams and edges of her outfit, adding to the intricate design. Her movements were fluid and graceful, as if she were gliding on air. She wore an ornate headpiece made of gold and precious stones, adding to the regal impression she gave off.
The steam angel's ranged weapon is a magnificent crossbow, a work of art in its own right. The crossbow is made of polished brass, adorned with intricate engravings and gears that interlock and spin as the weapon is loaded and fired. The carvings were of Odin battling a beast, a scene of epic conflict between the mighty god and a ferocious creature. The All-Father is shown as a towering figure with a muscular build, wearing his traditional Viking attire of furs and armour. He wields his spear, Gungnir, and stands confidently, ready to face his foe.
The beast is a fearsome werewolf, with razor-sharp claws and teeth, and a wild, savage expression on its face. Its body is covered in thick, matted fur, and it appears to be lunging forward, ready to attack Odin. The details of the carving show the beast's muscles rippling as it moves, and its claws extended, poised for a deadly strike.
The bow itself is made of sleek metal, curved in a graceful arc and able to launch a bolt with great speed and accuracy. The crossbow is loaded with mana bolts that are made of bones of a dragon, tipped with barbed points that glint menacingly in the torch light. The angel stored her bolts in a specially designed quiver, strapped to her beautiful shaped leg.
Her close-combat weapon is a sword that is a true masterpiece of engineering. The blade is made of a shining alloy, with intricate power rune etchings and gears inlaid along its length. The hilt is fashioned from a combination of brass and sea-serpent leather, providing a secure and comfortable grip for the soft hands of the angel. The gears in the sword's hilt turn and whirled as the angel wields the weapon, providing an audible and visual indication of its immense power. The sword is capable of cutting through even the toughest armour with ease, making her a formidable warrior in close-quarters combat.
As she approached the throne, she bowed low before the goddess, her wings spreading out behind her, making her appear even more magnificent. It was clear that she was a being of great dominance and grace, one that had been crafted with care and precision. This steampunk angel was a true masterpiece, a testament to the wonders that could be achieved with technology and craftsmanship.
"Great goddess of the hunt, I offer myself to you. May my bolts fly true and my aim be steady, that I may honour you in all I do."
The goddess regarded the angel with a keen eye, her expression inscrutable. After a long moment, she spoke.
"Rise, my child. Rise, Brünnhilde and know that your devotion is noted. May your sword always find its mark, and may your service to me be rewarded."
Brünnhilde rose to her feet, a smile of relief and joy on her face. She knew that the goddess had accepted her, and that her skills as a huntress would be put to good use. With a final bow, the angel spread her wings and rose. Brünnhilde stepped forward, her armour clanking as she approached the goddess, her eyes fixed with determination.
She delivered her warning because she knew the danger posed by the Blind One, a cunning and ruthless enemy who would stop at nothing to achieve his goals. Brünnhilde spoke with urgency, knowing that time was running out, and that action needed to be taken before it was too late.
She bowed her head respectfully before speaking in a serious tone, "My lady, I must warn you about the Blind One. His power is growing stronger, I think he is feeding on something we do not see. Do you think he seeks to overthrow the gods and rule the realms as his own."
Brünnhilde paused for a moment, taking a deep breath before continuing, "I fear the Blind One will stop at nothing to achieve his goals, and we must be prepared for his onslaught. He is cunning and ruthless, and his followers on Mors are growing in number. I believe we must act swiftly and decisively to stop him, or all that we have fought for will be lost."
Brünnhilde stood tall, her gaze fixed on the goddess, ready to do whatever it takes to protect the realms from the Blind One's wrath.
In a motherly voice Venari responded and placed a hand on her creations shoulder, “I am, Venari, the goddess of the hunt, servant of the All-Father and I hear your words my child, Brünnhilde. But do not be fooled, the Blind One is an agent of chaos and of the void. I do not think his intentions are so simple. He is not a mortal clan leader or would-be ruler. He was something far more dangerous, an agent of chaos and the void, with plans for Mors that go beyond simple conquest. He is more like,” Venari paused and looked over the halls thinking of her past conflict with the monster.
Taking a deep breath, Venari's armour clinked as she shifted her weight, before continuing her commands. Brünnhilde listened carefully, her eyes fixed on the goddess' beautiful figure, barely able to take in every word. The Huntress had one final request before Brünnhilde left, “I think he has different plans for Mors, you have done well, watch him still but before you go, please send one of the sisters to watch Violet. She is in the middle of a war and I don’t think she knows it.”
“As you command my mother,” with a final nod of respect, Brünnhilde placed her fist to her chest and flapped her wings, dashing out of the hall to carry out Venari's commands. Venari knew that Brünnhilde had done well, but the Blind One was not to be underestimated.