Prayer Box

[fromthefog]

This is a place to send your prayers to the Fog god. She may not always respond, or she may respond in ways you don’t expect, but she is always listening.

Speak, she hears you.

OOC note: As of April 2020, threads with the gods will be capped at three NPC replies! Please keep this in mind when writing god prayers to make sure you get everything you need out of the thread. It’s also possible to handwave prayers by titling your comment HANDWAVED PRAYER. Handwaved prayers lack our usual flourish, but you can expect a faster response!

As of February 2024, god prayers will be handwaved only. Please only submit a prayer if you have a question for either god which needs answering in order to progress your character's arc within Ryslig. If this is something you need to tier up within the god boon system, or just to set up a player plot in general, please don't hesitate to submit a prayer about it! You may shorten it down to an OOC summary of what your character is asking. This will allow any of our helper mods to reply much faster, without having to dig into the specifics of either god's personality/writing quirks. Should this limitation be lifted again in the future, this note will be removed.

Comments

[noasark]

[In the aftermath of Marco's death and his own decision to make good on his spat threats, it is the bonfire that draws him near. The bonfire and all of its wood, a few stacks poking upward like fence poles to frame the flames. The wood is sharp, and it's there, and with a muffled hiss the head is slammed upon one of them, one hand pushing it down and the other shoving the stake upward to better hold it balanced.

Miraculously enough Marco's glasses still sit askew on the face, droplets of venom staining the glass.

And with slowly calming breaths, he can finally bring himself down to 'earth', looking to the face while blood crusts over his hands. It's strange.

After all this, he can't well say he even remotely feels like 'taking it back'. Turning his eyes toward the flames, he speaks:]

...If he was as much of a pain to me as I've found, then I don't doubt he was beginning to prove himself an irritating thorn in your side.

With any luck, this will quiet his mouth for a while.

[...There is a pause. And taking the stake the head has been set upon, he removes it from the wood pile, before properly setting it into the ground. If he is taking this path he is taking it wholeheartedly. If he is taking this path he will no longer hide behind excuses and indecision like those who he scattered to the winds. He may be 'human' rather than 'machine', but if this is 'evil' then so be it.

The 'good ones', as of late, have acted so much worse.

The basilisk bows.] ...Consider this a dedication.

I've made my decision.

[fromthefog]

[When there is nothing to celebrate - no rituals to perform, no great days of honor approaching - Dyster is a naturally quiet place. Even so, when Noa slams the head down before the bonfire, an otherworldly hush falls over the place. The first villager to notice covers their mouth with their hands, their eyes wide and full of shock. Another villager looks, sees, and audibly gasps. Soon, they are congregating, drawing into the center of town en masse to surround Noa. They do not touch him, although they watch him with something between admiration and fear.

And then, once the villagers have assembled, the fire roars.

Sparks fly, singing the ground that they touch, and the wood of the pyre shifts in the massive blaze. It grows higher, and louder, and ever more powerful, and the villagers begin to collapse back from the intense heat... and suddenly it collapses, leaving tangible waves of smoke and ash in its wake. In the midst of the smog, the avatar of the Fog God stands, her eyes wild.

She looks at Marco's impaled head. A lip-splitting grin forms on her face, and she throws back her head and begins to laugh.]

It is done! Gaze upon him - gaze, and behold the fearsome beast which once hid from me! [She flings her arms open, holding her gaze high up to the heavens.] At long last, my warrior has taken up arms!

[The fire bursts forth once again, and with it chaos erupts. The villagers surge forward, crying out in a orgiastic mass as every one of them tries to reach and touch Noa. They dive through the flames, their skin crackling and scarring as they cry out- bless us! touch us! we are yours!

The smog begins to rise again - this time, around Noa. The fire's intense heat and the fog's natural chill begin to war, traveling across his skin in currents of pain and pleasure, and the air starts to crackle. Lightning cracks down around him, surging and knocking the villagers around him out of the way. He will realize, over time, that this is his gift to control. But for now, the most important thing is the way the Fog God looks directly at him.

She seems proud.]

Accept my blessing, Noa. It, and the people of this realm, are yours to do with as you see fit.

[She turns and walks into the fire, and soon nothing remains but the desperate cry of the villagers.]