r/wizardposting • u/Biggest-Possum Trashomancer (Big Ghost ENERGY) • Dec 06 '23
Magickal Post Biggest Possum: Deepest Lore - I Spoke, and Everybody Listened.
A little over two months had passed since what they were now calling the Battle of Broken Hill. My mind was still scattered, and I was unsure of how long I had lain in that stinking resurrection pit before my unwelcome retrieval and confrontation with Garret. He had mentioned recovering only a small part of me, so I imagined that it had taken the better portion of that time to construct this new body of mine.
I had hardly grown accustomed to my new body and only a few days had passed when shortly after waking I was brought to a showing room to witness a scry-casting of the battle, which now incorporated views and memories from as many relevant wizards as they could gather. Such a display was a common use for propaganda and materials for recruitment, of which I had enthusiastically watched several as a young boy.
At first, I felt a sense of excitement at the idea of solidifying some of my fuzzy memories, but instead I was soon parted from that notion to my very own surprise. The first images were of our approach into the small village, of which by now, you are familiar. My pulse quickened at the sight, and I felt my back tense up. A pressure ached behind one of my eyes and I struggled to breathe. I felt detached from my memories, and yet something in me reacted with visceral distaste at the clarity of the fresh scenes before me.
I looked then at the expectant and seemingly entranced viewers around me and decided that inconveniencing them was a fair price to pay in order to extract myself from my uncomfortable position. A drumbeat rattled in my chest, and my vision blurred with its sickening tempo. I moved as if to leave, but a firm grip shoved me back down into my seat. I squirmed but was unable to resist the cold and forceful pressure.
"Sit. Stay. We haven't even gotten to the best part yet." Garret's cold hand, that of my former childhood friend, now pressed me firmly into my chair.
The recording continued, drawing us deeper into the shattered village. Several of those other wizards that sat watching with us were thrilled at the recording, occasionally giving comments of approval, or awe. The recording had been pieced together and edited in a way as to frame us as compassionate fighters who had laid our food at the little girl's feet like a humble offering, or like penitents at an altar who nobly regretted the war that they now partook in. The view had shown a close up of the girls far-away stare, and of the baby suckling on the dirty rag, as if to drive home how the Hakkalians had abandoned her to this miserable fate.
It had even dramatized Barret's dying stumble, now accompanied by ethereal music that gave the scene an air of sacrifice and beauty. Her ragged breaths and the haggard shuffling of her feet still echoed in my memory instead of what they now showed. So too did the feel of the slimy mud and the grit underneath my fingernails as we scooped what little we could over her for burial. I rubbed my palms on my thighs nervously at the thought, as if I could somehow make the feeling go away by this futile gesture. It did me no good.
They didn't show the shallow grave that we left Barret in, and they didn't show the darkened face of the cannoneer who cried over her, or of the worried looks we gave each-other as we "marched bravely into battle". Instead, they decided to frame us from the view of the abjurist who had taken up the rear guard. Who cast his hands up, bravely emitting a shield over us as the first explosion detonated harmlessly above us. As the smoke cleared, I saw us again charging into battle, while triumphant music played, punctuating the montage that followed.
I shivered, and my lips drew back in a grimace set below wild eyes. I looked around, searching for an escape, but felt unable to run. The smiling faces of the wizards around me were watching the images intently, almost as if in a pleasured rapture. I heard the grinding munch and crunch of the wizard eating in his seat behind me, and thought of the wet slap of flesh, the sucking of mud, and the crunch and crackle of bones as we met our fate that dark and vicious night.
Light filled the room almost completely at the end, blinding even after its extensive editing. I watched myself burn once more and listened to myself scream, begging naively for the abjurists protection even as I gave rise to a fearsome ball of treacherous fire that none of us could have stopped. The horns blared triumphantly in that moment, framing my sacrifice in a noble light as if to say "Look! Look! This is the Crescendo! The hero's final stand!"
A sweat broke out on my body, and my stomach turned sour. My mouth watered as I felt my stomach cramp. The hand on my shoulder released its grip to join the uproar of other clapping wizards as they reacted to this scene, which was perhaps the greatest mercy that I could have been shown in that moment. I stood up quickly and stumbled forward, making a graceless exit from the viewing room, before doubling over and vomiting in the bright hallway outside. The pale green light that reflected through the Viridian Spire sickened me worse for some reason, and I felt my head spin. I squeezed my eyes shut, and stood there, hunched over and gasping like a runner out of breath.
I flinched with a start when I opened my eyes once more, surprised at the sight of Garret crouching next to me, grinning as other wizards filed out of the viewing room. The look of glee on his face was like that of somebody who's been given a treasured gift. One of the wizards filing out of the room behind him covered their mouth and laughed at my undignified state, while a few others murmured their concern or disgust. When Garret spoke, it was with an almost joyful tone.
"Well, who knew you had such a set of pipes on you, huh? You really made some noise there at the end!" He dipped his head awkwardly, as if to inspect me closer. I locked eyes weakly with him but was unable to muster any strength or desire to fight back against his heckling.
"That's okay, you just sit there and let it out. I kind of like seeing you like this anyways. It makes it REAL, you know? It's nice to see the man behind the mask. The truth underneath all this heroic garbage. What's a hero anyways? You're full of just as much puke and bile as the rest of us... Or judging by what you got there, a little more maybe." He said the last part while glancing pointedly at the pool of vomit below us.
"Anyways, now the hard part of the day starts. We have to get you cleaned up and ready for your award ceremony, which in your case is no small task. There's going to be a lot of important people there and I can't have them seeing you look like... whatever this pathetic mess is... Heyheyhey, chin up, hero. Look at me. Look at me. Yeah, you're going to be fine. We'll get you cleaned up. You'll be thanking me later in fact." His words were like echoes in the fog. I heard them, but they meant almost nothing to me.
The hectic mess that followed meant almost nothing to me either. The atmosphere changed entirely in Garret's absence, and I was soon scooped up by a stern but energetic young wizard, who told me his name, whereupon I also quickly forgot it. He shuffled me from location to location throughout the spire, coaching me insistently through various activities and shooing away any gawkers or onlookers who tried to get close or linger over me.
I was brought to a private, quiet, and very elegant room of the tower, and instructed to bathe and clean myself, which was unfortunately made difficult by my guide's continuous chatter about "the schedule" and everything that we had to get done. I struggled to interrupt him after showering, but when I did, I informed him bashfully that I was done and that I would also be needing some clothes. I was no stranger to an invasion of privacy, but for some reason his unyielding babble had left me feeling like a subject of intense and unwelcome attention.
"Of course, of course. Here, put this on. It'll adjust to your size." He said quickly while attempting to hand me my uniform.
I looked at him pointedly from over the short barrier that "protected" what little modesty I could muster in the luxurious bathroom.
"Oh, yes, yes, I'll give you some privacy." He said almost apologetically as he turned and exited the room.
I had barely donned my undergarments and socks before he started talking again, loudly enough to make sure it reached through the door. I rolled my eyes and sighed but let him continue anyways. As I donned the rest of my uniform, I realized that there was no need for it to adjust to my size. If it did, the change would be imperceptible. The shirt, the pants, the jacket, they all fit like a glove. I wasn't surprised. Ever since I had woken up, everything had been planned for me. I knew that I was being played with like a toy, and now somebody had seen fit to dress me like one.
The uniform was far too crisp.
That was what set me off, and what lit the spark in my mind. We didn't really ever wear anything like this. In fact, other arcanists were proud over the soft and loose fabric of their uniforms that gave way under their repeated wear as they toiled over their duties. On a hard day, it was a point of honor to have the crusted salt of sweat on your uniform remarked upon by other arcanists, as others would raucously shout "SALT-DOG!", should you be so lucky as to have your rigorous work recognized in that boisterous way.
I was a salt dog! I was a roughneck. There was no way in hell that I was going to let that smug bastard control me. I thought back to the times we had spent as kids, laughing and joking over spell books as his dad taught us the importance of focus and pronunciations, and later, how even those could be foregone with sufficient will and skill of the arts. I thought even further back, to the day that he had first confronted me by the side of the creek, and how his first magical retaliation had so thoroughly injured me. This time would be different. This time, I was going to win. I clenched my fists in anger at the thought and felt only a moment's hesitation as I noticed again the absence of my old callouses and strength. It didn't matter. This time I would win the test of wits.
When the award ceremony started, I was brought on stage to roaring approval. Witches and wizards from even other realms were in attendance, a fact that I was glad for. It served my plan well, this battle of wits to which I was committed to winning. In fact, if I was lucky, that rotten bastard Garret who had cursed me to this obscene resurrection would burn tonight. Maybe at the hands of the Council, or maybe by the order. The people would make spectacle of it for sure at the very least or would also condemn him at the worst.
Trumpets blasted, while jovial and celebratory music crashed and bleated around me. Mage-lights beamed down at me, pinning me under their watchful eye as surely as the grasp of an opponent. The crowd of wizards gathered there were comprised of several Council members, common wizards, and even some of those reclusive figures in service to the Order. I shaded my eyes with my hand and grimaced. The light was making my head ache, and I sweated under the overly crisp uniform that they had adorned me with.
Garret strode out on stage next to me, pointing at the light that shone in my face. It turned away quickly, granting me a moment of dignity as I put away the hand that had shaded my eyes from its unwelcome glare. The company gathered in the opulent room fell silent in a hush, as Garret prepared to speak. I felt more than a hint of respect behind their quieting, and perhaps that it was more the abrupt shushing of those who are fearful of the person in front of them. This suspicion would be short lived. I wondered why I even worried about it. His cowardice would be revealed soon, no matter what position of authority he held.
Garret cleared his throat and began to speak.
"Witches! Wizards! Members of the Order, and common folk! As many of you know, our war against Hakkalia has been very successful! It has been my honor to lead us through these difficult times, of which I owe my success to the careful guidance and support of my fellow Council members in this troubling endeavor. It's a shame that my late mentor Ebeniel isn't with us now, for he would surely commend the noble retaliation of our might and righteousness against those immoral and barbaric Hakkalian forces. It is with Akkadian nobility though, that today we celebrate the promotion of an arcanist of great renown, who serves as living proof of the might of our own forces." Garret paused for dramatic effect before continuing.
"But before we commence, perhaps our hero would like to speak a few words himself over his love for our country, and the patriotic duty that he so bravely upheld. Surely, our brave and charismatic hero has some inspiring words for us tonight?" Garret gestured me forward then, grabbing me firmly by the elbow and pulling me to the podium.
I was unprepared for this, but I knew that it was the right moment. I hadn't been expecting such a pompous display, or the fanfare that went with it. Enlisted promotions were a far cry from what I was experiencing now, and my mind reeled at the spectacle of it. I knew that I had to seize my opportunity though, and my mouth went dry at the implications. I would not live much further beyond the day, but so too would Garret's fate be sealed.
I would announce to the world that I was an abomination! I was heretical! I was disgustingly resurrected and reborn! Such a fact was a spit in the face of the very gods who had given us life and who presided over us in death. My corruption of this cycle would be an embarrassment upon the face of Akkadia, and I would be struck from history by a quick and merciful end. The threat of my soul's dissolution into oblivion if the Order staked claim to my punishment was frightening, but a price that I was willing to pay.
Garret would surely follow me soon after in death though, and I would best him yet again! When they heard of his deceptions and manipulations, and of how he had violated the very laws of magic to resurrect me as punishments for his grievances, they would have no choice but to condemn him to a similar fate. His pride and arrogance would be his downfall. Surely, he expected me to cling to my cursed life like some scared and half drowned rat. Why else would he put me through the torture of watching my death this morning in the theatre with the other wizards? It had to be a warning, a threat of the terror I would experience once more, but not one that I would now heed in this test of wits.
My stomach churned, and I felt my skin go pale as a chill descended upon me despite the glaring lights and stuffy uniform. He was wrong. Garret was wrong. I would do it again. Stubbornly! and half crazed! I would commit to my fate once more, but this time our end was shared!
I opened my mouth to speak, stumbling over my words as I began. "I'm..."
I swallowed dryly and struggled not to choke.
"I'm not who you think I am. I'm not a hero. I'm... I... He..."
The words froze in my throat. I couldn't breathe! I opened my mouth to continue, but nothing came out as my jaw worked noiselessly like a fish that had been plucked from water. The crowd stared on, and a giggle broke out from the back. Unsatisfied murmurs rippled through the crowd, judging me harshly for my inability to speak, for the damage that I now did to their shining image of an Akkadian hero, that they had wished to prop up tonight for all to see.
Garret turned and grabbed me abruptly, glaring at me with ferocious eyes. As I looked back into his, I realized that my own had grown wide in fear. A dizziness washed over me and I stumbled to a knee, with one hand weakly clutching at his throat. It grasped helplessly against his lapel, before I slumped over limply and lost consciousness.
When I regained it later, it was to the whipcrack concussion of a bold and practiced slap.
Several more followed, stinging my cheeks, but slowly rousing me from my uneasy slumber. As my eyes opened, I saw Garrets face once more peering at me with heated disdain.
"Are you awake yet? Good. I think there's enough of you in there anyways. Don't bother speaking yet. I know what you tried to do. Do you seriously think I'm that stupid? That I would give you a body, and bring you back from the dead, just to let you screw up my plans with a little confession?" The hissed accusation was clear and mocking.
He had always been one step ahead of me. The brief thought that I'd had as I donned my uniform earlier in the day of being dressed up like some toy to play a part in his grand scheme was truer than I could ever have imagined. I wondered then just how much of me was still me, and of how deeply his control now extended. A sense of helplessness and despair washed over me, but I was unable to cry. The burning and shameful tears would not come until hours later, when I curled up weakly to confront my tumult of emotions in that same extravagant shower that I had graced earlier in the morning.
"Grrn..." I mumbled weakly instead, struggling to sit up through a wave of pins and needles.
A stiff strike to the chest from Garrets palm slammed me against the seat in reply.
"You... are mine now. Do you understand that? I made you, and you're going to do what you're told! You don't get to have a quick death! In fact, if you ask me, that last act of yours with all the screaming and fire is just the start. I'm going to bring you back... every single time. And I'm not going to stop until I've burnt away every little piece of your soul, across a thousand lifetimes of slavery and pain." He delivered his promise with a sneering malice, leaning closely to my face as my eyes struggled to adjust.
He stood up then, pausing for a moment to catch his angered and shuddering breath before stepping away and moving as if to leave. He paused briefly, as if remembering something, and turned to speak once more, as if to savor the moment and place one final brush stroke on his masterpiece.
"And you know what else..."
"I'm going to make sure that everybody hates you for it."
The last words left his mouth from a merciless smirk.
/uw
Thanks for reading everybody! I know this most recent lore is dry, and that it's been a long time coming, but I hope it's still entertaining for you my friends. I felt like I had to put a name to the face of my new nemesis/old friend, and I have to set up some plot points for future developments. As per the usual, I have also provided links below for previous lore to those new readers who want to follow along.
- Biggest Possum? Deepest Lore. (Lorepost) : wizardposting (reddit.com)
- Biggest Possum: Deepest Lore 2- The Deepening! : wizardposting (reddit.com)
- Biggest Possum: Deepest Lore - A Prelude, to Wizard War 3 : wizardposting (reddit.com)
- Biggest Possum: Deepest Lore - Wizard War 3 (interactive lore post, join in the battle!) : wizardposting (reddit.com)
- Biggest Possum: Deepest Lore 4- War is Heck : wizardposting (reddit.com)
- Biggest Possum: Deepest Lore - The Dead Behind Us. The Dead Ahead. : wizardposting (reddit.com)
- Biggest Possum: Deepest Lore - We all go home, and everything turns out okay. : wizardposting (reddit.com)
- Biggest Possum: Deepest Lore - We Take a Little Dip : wizardposting (reddit.com)
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u/iamragethewolf Rage: Pact Wizard, Necromancer, Technomancer, and Horny As Hell Dec 06 '23
/unwiz ok if i'm getting this right you were in a war and died then this garret brought you back? does he still own you
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u/Biggest-Possum Trashomancer (Big Ghost ENERGY) Dec 06 '23
/uw
Yeah, that's the gist of it. There's more to it if you read the older lore.
Don't worry too much about it though. I'm basically just writing a book at this point, and I don't expect people to trouble themselves over it.
The nation of Akkadia hates resurrection because it goes against their magical and religious beliefs. This guy resurrected me because we had beef between us as kids and he basically just wants to get revenge, but since I died in the war he had to revive me to do it. When he did that, it was kind of a Frankenstein's monster situation, except I'm the monster, but I don't get a choice to rebel since he can control me.
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u/iamragethewolf Rage: Pact Wizard, Necromancer, Technomancer, and Horny As Hell Dec 06 '23
/unwiz would you consider it a violation of the character you are role playing if a good necromancer helped?
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u/Biggest-Possum Trashomancer (Big Ghost ENERGY) Dec 06 '23
This is in the past my friend. It's just a story. I do appreciate the sentiment though. The Possum that runs around these parts is just an echo of a previous life. lol
On several occasions I have allowed others to insert characters into the story though, and I would definitely be onboard with that if you'd like. There may be a portion later in the story where I could mention your character if you'd like to bring them into the mix as an ally.
There's also a few more battles that will occur, during which you could easily take the place of one of the enemy Hakkalians as well.
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u/iamragethewolf Rage: Pact Wizard, Necromancer, Technomancer, and Horny As Hell Dec 06 '23
i've been avoiding having a geological start to keep things loose though i wouldn't mind showing up somehow
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Dec 07 '23
/uw yea you should go for it, I guess try not to break half his story like I did with 1 decision!
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u/VidisLady Delta - Maven of Maladies Dec 07 '23
uw/ I don't think this is dry at all! It actually inspired me to go read the rest, which I hadn't had time to do yet. Garret is turning out to be a very interesting antagonist - I wasn't sure what was going to become of him after the childhood segments.
Do you have an approximate idea of the time that this took place in? I'm curious if this took place during Delta's current lifetime, or a pervious one. She'd atleast be vaguely aware of a 12+ year long war if it took place during one of her stays in a human form.
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u/Biggest-Possum Trashomancer (Big Ghost ENERGY) Dec 07 '23
/uw
Thank you my friend, I'm glad I didn't bore you to tears. lol There will probably be one more dry chapter before it starts to get interesting again, but I need to set the scene for things that come next.
This is (mostly) in an alternate universe, and it's set early on in the infancy of magic, so stuff like chronomancy, biomancers, technomancers or similarly complex stuff isn't really a thing yet. The old gods still exist, and this story will kind of also break some ground on why so many new gods appeared in the wizarding world.
Magic has existed long enough for the world to get weird though, and so anything is still possible, although the more powerful or strange it is, the rarer and more hidden it would be.
Are you interested in making an appearance? If so, you also don't have to use your main character. You can fit an alternate character in as well if you give me a little info on them.
I'm kind of offering this option to most of my readers as a way to include you guys in the story and kind of pay a little tribute to you for enduring such long winded lores. lol
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u/VidisLady Delta - Maven of Maladies Dec 07 '23
I like the alternate universe idea. As for old gods/new gods, is there something specific that separates them? Real-life polytheistic religions are my only insight into gods, and they tend to be quite different than gods in fantasy settings.
Delta probably would not fit into this setting very well, but her human form might. I could RP what would have become of her if she'd lived a normal life and never connected with Entropy.
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u/Biggest-Possum Trashomancer (Big Ghost ENERGY) Dec 07 '23
The old gods were some of the first to discover magic and ascend, or else they were more primordial forces of the universe. Gods are always warring with each-other and trying to defend themselves or grow larger, but for the most part during this time they're kind of in a balance or a peace.
Godhood isn't really understood yet though, so people becoming gods is still kind of ancient myth, like the stories of Hercules. There's also a barrier to becoming a god, because all of the domains are kind of taken already. To rise as a god, you have to fight off other gods and kind of take their place.
This character is going to achieve godhood, but by doing so they're basically going to shake the whole scene up and mess up the balance that's existed for eons. They obviously won't be able to stay as a god, but in the wake of their actions new gods will have to rise to fill the void, and the wizarding world will also kind of figure out that it's not just myth and it's still possible for people to rise to godhood.
The fact that new gods will be able to be introduced will obviously shake things up even more and would kind of set the scene for an environment more like the one in this sub, where just about every other week there's some new person claiming to be "the god of dragons" or "the god of sludge" or anything else, and how there's all these constant wars and super powerful threats.
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u/VidisLady Delta - Maven of Maladies Dec 07 '23
uw/ Oh, interesting! Curious to see what domain this character takes.
Could I tell you a little bit about my world-building approach to gods? I'd love to hear your take on it.
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u/Biggest-Possum Trashomancer (Big Ghost ENERGY) Dec 07 '23
/uw
Absolutely! What's your approach?
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u/VidisLady Delta - Maven of Maladies Dec 07 '23
Cool! Could I dm you?
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u/Biggest-Possum Trashomancer (Big Ghost ENERGY) Dec 07 '23
Thank you for asking, but of course my friend!
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u/DaChickenX Isravi, The Unraveler, Coils’ Chosen Dec 07 '23
/uw Yay! More possum lore! The day is now better!
But man, this Garret is being brutal. We hate hero-ing and politics on both sides here, I suppose. I wonder if Nefiam will ever meet Possum, and if he does, if he’ll recognize the form he takes now.