《No Gods! Some masters?》Introspection
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The Hanothi language had a few similarities to Eroan, the now feeble Kingdom claims to have colonised it many centuries ago before the collapse. That claim was used many times to try and conquer Hanoth. Several attempts got past the frigid mountain defences, but they could never subjugate the people long enough to cement their rule. Therefore, much of the Hanothi culture is based on the hatred of the late Kingdom of Eroan, but not enough time has passed to weed out some key components of the language that they still share with their mortal enemies.
While this makes learning the language marginally easier for Kolost, the last few days of rigours learning does not make him sound anything less than a bumbling idiot. A fact Siddil was very eager to point out to him, several times. They spend many hours discussing the intricacies of their immediate conundrum and Kolost educated Siddil about Hanoth and the wider world around Harrack. Granted he wasn’t a local, but he remembered visiting the city during his travels as he described it.
It was the southernmost of the six so called ‘great cities’ of the country. Most of the nobility gravitate to these magnificent towns to engage in their political manoeuvring and to mingle with their fellow aristocrats, more often than not those two things go hand in hand. Each city has its own identity within the kingdom being guided by a noble family answering directly to the crown, the northern cities have always been closely linked to the Lyddarian dynasty by blood and oath as opposed to the more distant south.
What Kolost didn’t know was that the crown’s authority has been waning over the whole kingdom the past few decades and in Harrack this meant rampant corruption, constant power grabs by the local nobility and greedy merchants fleecing the peasantry. Atop all this sat Hector Fornvar, taking the mantle from his father three years ago he begun a very hands-off approach to his domain while paying mostly lip service to the crown. Kolost would in time find out more about what it entails to be nobility.
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But for now, he just has to stop pretending to be sick.
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“This is going to be a lot harder than I expected, when you found me in Gléowyn’s domain I assumed you to be … someone. From what I can tell you are just Kolost from Tialha, were the gods perhaps just having a bad day when you died?” Siddil was having a hard time teaching a language to Kolost, even if they were in a child’s body.
“And you’re an almighty paragon of intellect then I assume?
But yes, I have no great intellect, I made living as a follower of a great woman. A damned man travelling shoulder to shoulder to a prophet turned many heads at first, but when her fame grew some people even started to thank me for keeping her safe.“
Siddil could feel the melancholy seep through his sentences
“And I didn’t die, the gods threw me into that cell while I was alive.”
“What!?” Siddil was incredibly surprised at this revelation.
“Disregarding how utterly wrong that is, it means you don’t have Gléowyn’s mark on your soul! This is amazing news; we’ll be seen as any other mortal if the gods ever come looking their missing prisoner. We’re invisible!”
Kolost had no idea how important this revelation was just yet even though he could feel Siddil’s excitement.
“That’s good then. Then what was your body made from?”
At this simple question Siddil became a quiet, if he had arms, he’d start fidgeting right about now.
“As an accomplished blood mage, I can sculpt a non-functional but pleasing body from a wide range of living materials. Trees, grasses or even mosses but animas are preferred, their colour fits better with the human complexion. The process is very bloody, so other mages and simple folk don’t see the inherent -”
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“I asked about the what not the how. Answer the question.” He didn’t believe what Siddil was saying anyway, you can’t make people from plants or animals.
“Alright calm down. … Have you ever heard of Timetros by chance?”
He had.
“Is it by any chance the monstrosity that wiped out a few dozen villages in the Riverlands.”
“Yes”
“The abomination that swallowed houses whole and stopped all trade on the White Road for months?”
“Yes. He gave me enough flesh to sculpt a new body and in return I would have to free him from his prison someday. I know I know you don’t have say it, but at the time I never thought I would escape that accursed place.”
“So, I’m sharing my mind with someone who owes a debt to walking disaster, in a child’s body who the parents already suspect to be somehow possessed whose language I can’t speak and my goal in life is to kill god. This wasn’t how I imagined my second chance.”
Kolost was starting to ground himself during their sick period and it made him realise how difficult his life is going to be from now on. The body, the people, the name. All these were stolen from their original owner, Kolost wasn’t sure he could maintain the façade of an innocent looking child before a concerned mothers face. The realisation washed over him; it as was so easy to agree to this when he saw those clouds.
“The first time is always the hardest Kolost, some mages wanted necromancy to be banned as it created problems, they thought man wasn’t supposed to solve. You will never have the luxury to justify your actions, be it in the past or present. You were wronged by the gods themselves, supposed perfection personified betrayed you over a deal made in good faith. Now it is up to us to make them pay for their crimes, we shall be to ones to punish the gods for their transgression.”
This resonated with Kolost. His anger rising to the surface, he remembered his time in that white prison. Floating somewhere between life and death, his life unravelled before him. Regrets and mistakes taunting him as spectres, his body slowly rotting and his mind decaying to a shell of the man he once was. All the while his companions lived out their lives in deserved luxury.
Kolost realised he was wavering at the first leg of the journey, was he always so weak hearted or does his newfound anger sooth his soul that much. He was a changed man, if the change was for better or for worse; only time will tell.
“Can we get back to learning Hanthothi already?”
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Far Strider
A college student finds himself transported into a strange land with burgeoning magical powers, and is taken in by Ned Stark. Will he sink or swim in this medieval society, and will he ever get home? ====================== OC-insert without knowledge of Game of Thrones, new planeswalker. Slow power ramp. Second crossover: Star Wars (around chapter 39). ======================= As a note, I started this as a speed writing challenge to myself. The challenge was successful, and I managed 100,000+ words (as well as some character sheets in excel and such) over 10.5 days. Then I had to stop and let my hands recover from their burgeoning carpal tunnel syndrome. The story currently stands at around 150,000 words (or ~550 RRL pages) over 54 chapters; expect a chapter a day until I've caught up with the backlog. The focus of this story was not quality writing, and that hasn't changed. I mostly use it as my semi-guilty "I need to write something, but am not focused enough to write something good" story. Expect self-indulgent writing in general, and a bit of OP (or, well, more than just a bit if we're being honest), especially later in the story as the protagonist matures into a more full-blown Planeswalker. But if you're looking for something with a power-ramping protagonist romping around the place, something you'd be a bit embarrassed to admit liking (I know I am) but like anyways (and come on, this is RRL, so that probably describes just about everyone here who actually has shame), then this may be a nice bit of mental junk food for you.
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