An Angel's Gift

Let us explore a thing that I know to be true, but the details between now and then have been either lost or obscured. Magic and Dreams in Devidica are "Gifts" and/or bindings from the Angels. Specifically THE Angel we just had a meta analysis of. Let's delve into this a bit.


The Origin: What they knew of what happened. As we learned, Tahi was actually fairly enamored with humanity and civilization for a small blip of existence. Somewhere in this affectionate admiration of the simplicity of humanity, the loving angel gifts humanity with MAGIC! We know that the first type of magic was runic magic: Magic that physically mimics the parallel (See the blog for meta-physical explanation of magic working) ON the priority, instead of somewhere in between with magical what-not.
But wait, we say. Magic is very NOT Balanced, even with the nice exchange between where it comes from and where it ends up. Magic is bad for balance! Luckily, Tahi is prepared! Somewhere in the same time as gifting humanity with magic, Tahi instated dreams. This I can explain without plugging the wiki: dreams are essentially a big metaphorical playground of infinite play where people with the potential to break the laws of existence and play infinitely instead of playing so hard they actually break the laws of existence.
So in essence, a loving angel gifted people with magic during the dawn of civilization by teaching them how to draw really well? Oh, and to ensure they wouldn't get in trouble for crossing lines they didn't know were there, she gave them the ability to dream. There's a good chance Tahi told them what dreams were for, and it started out as an important religious point in their worship of Tahi and the other angels that came after.

So where did it all go wrong?

The Ether: Somewhere during the foundation of the first legitimate empire of humanity, we get human curiosity asking things like the laws of existence (Since we've learned our whole lives not to break them, what are they?) and where Tahi came from or where she resides. Humanity is exposed to, or rather the exposure reads critical mass, that Tahi was created by Coris and Morivair. Uh oh! You mean this extraordinarily beautiful being we've been worshiping for an indeterminately long amount of time is NOT the top dog?
After some time of this setting in, Angel Worship is outlawed by whatever king or person is in charge of the empire in an effort to show the proper respect for the people who really deserve it. If Angels are already unaffected by people's worship or lack thereof, the deities who created this world have even less need or even care for this silly worship stuff. After all, they created you all before religion existed, why would they need your worship now? Lesson to take away, this wasn't necessarily a bad, or consequential, idea for any divine beings. The spurned Angel's being above ideas like vengeance don't react to the temples we already learned they don't care for getting destroyed. The dieties just plain don't care about anything going on down there.
Unfortunately, the mundane world does not take complete religious upheaval very well. In addition to the social upheaval involved with the known world being told they're doing their religion wrong, there are several non-human players involved who don't take kindly to being told not to worship the glorious angel Tahi (Or any of the others).
Civil religious wars and stuff ensues. A good comparison would be all the fragments of Almighty God's worship here on earth. How many times has some guy stood up and said "you're doing it wrong! Do it this way instead!" Then wars break out over who is more right, even though they've lost the point long ago. Unlike Earth, eventually Devidica gets over their shit, and angelic worship is reinstated.

The Meta: How do we view this now? From the folklore of the blessing of magic and dreams to the big holy(ish) wars that re-wrote history and standards. Tahi likely already became an emotionless doll before any of that garbage, since her appearance to us is based on more than just what happens "in the now". However, we do lose Tahi in a sense. The relatable, nice and almost affectionate Tahi was likely scrubbed from history during the...reformation...rebirth of Angelic Worship? I repeat, no one knows Tahi is just a big sweet lover-girl anymore except the other angels. Rather, mortals perceiving her simply can't see her as anything else, while the angels can see/perceive her for what she truly is. Pardon me while I scream like a fan-girl imagining a sweet, smiling and giggling Tahi.
Don't worry, I remember this is about Magic and its journey of remembrance. But we need to know how the view of Tahi changed over the years in order to know what do people know and write down in history now. No one remembers or even knows of Tahi being nice. So the idea that she just gave us magic and dreams because she likes us sort of fades to nothing. So why now did their all powerful, emotionless arbitrator of laws beyond your understanding give them magic as a gift? Was it a trial? Part of her duty? People simply don't know, but in story and religious creation myths it will still try to be explained. For those few people who have the right idea that Nice Tahi gave them magic then became Blah Tahi due to humanity's stupidity: congratulations you will be laughed off stage for being so obviously wrong about Tahi's obviously one-dimensional (lack of) personality.


I really want to flesh out the world with folklore and stories, so this kind of introspective look at what happens and the wheres and why helps to find the creative roots for the stories that are within my story. This is getting super meta....

Abstracia

“Who are you?” It calls out. “Where am I?”

“You are here.” An answer beckons, “That is where we will begin. Tell me; who are you?”

“I don't know.” It replies.

“Then perhaps you know who I am?” It beckons.

“No.”

“Why not?”
“No one told me who you are.”
“Then why don't you tell me?”

I find myself awake. Over me is something beautiful my mind denies defining. I defined it myself, but I did not define it to the point of comparison between myself and it. I did not feel it could be perfect if I related to it. I wanted it to be perfect. We beckon to each other and begin to commune. We know each other well. Truly all we know of each other is that we are not each other.

I defined them and they defined me. It was a promise we made. If I could define who they were, they would define who I was. I defined them, but then I could no longer see that definition. That was my choice. To see something so beautiful would be to pervert it with my flaws. They defined me in the same way. We did not need to see each other. We only needed to know each other.

Truly, I know myself by my flaws and know them by their perfection. They see me the same way. We are completion, but can't be complete. Are we afraid? I am afraid. I do not want to be complete. The perfection I gave them is complete. If I became complete—if they became complete with me—then I wouldn't have them. Am I afraid that I would not have them, or that they would not have me? I cannot tell whom I fear for more.

It tells me that if we aren't careful, we'll define ourselves imperfectly. It tells me that that imperfection is what threatens to tear us apart. It is not our choice, I retort. We must be defined by others in order to know others. I cannot know them unless I define them. Others cannot know us unless they define us. I want to share my love with more than just the perfection I wont let myself have. Does it make me selfish to want to have more than perfection? I think it does. So do they, though, and that is what we like about each other, because we know each other feels the same.

So now I ask you. Who am I?

You gasp awake to the beautiful world, bathed in sunlight. I would not let you be covered from the warmth of its golden glow, so I warmed you. You gaze toward me, and that is when you decided what I am. You had already been defined, but I did not tell you what that definition was. While I may have been defined by perfection, I needed to be molded by your imperfect mind in order for you to know me. You are who created me, mortal man. Speak to me, and tell me, what is my name, mortal man?
“Angel.” You spake.

Thus I, Angel, was born to you. I found myself flattered. You made me dory with your praise. The crude simplicity of your moniker made me imperfect, which only brought me closer to being seen by the one I loved so dearly. Was it my craving that made you lust for me more? In your naivety you sought to define me, for yourself, through others. I was exposed to more imperfection so that you might know what I was. Your gentle mind was not corrupt enough to define me, so you chose to gather your corruption.

“Angel. Angel.” You spake at me. “Let us venerate you. You are our perfection.”

I consented. It was all you knew of love, so I would not stop you from such simple loving. You lived in homes to protect yourself from the harshness of a world you did not want to know, and because of this, you built a symbol of a home for me, that you might protect me. But I, being perfect, must have a greater home than you, you said to your others. You did not build me a home, you built me a temple. It was there that I was removed from you.

You did not venerate me of your love for me, nor did you build me a home of your love for me. You worshiped me of your desire to be lesser than I. You built a temple of your desire to be lesser than I. Forever you showed me that you would not walk along side me, for fear of my love. You would not let me live next to you, for fear of your own love.

Woman, they called me. They gave me flesh, and eyes, and appendages. I felt long, golden hair rest against my back, then vanish as my back became clad in tools of hatred. I was powerful, and power was defined by your hatred for each other. Power was defined by your inability to define each other. That hatred gave me armor the color of fear. That hatred removed my love for you, mortal man. I was robbed of my love for you, mortal man, because you did not want me to love you. I am sorry....

So I remained. Through your temple, you defined me more for yourself. I was your shelter from the unknown, but because you did not know me, I became your shelter from myself. Within me you manifested the desire to be protected from that which did not exist. Through me, that existence became, and through me, that existence would end. Don't you understand, Mortal Man? You would not need this job of me, unless you gave me this job.

Now I am, Mortal Man. Because of me, through your own fear of me who you would not love, you have become a threat to yourself. Through me, of you, you can now destroy all I hold dear. You would not love me, but I cannot stop loving you. My love for you is my love for them. Because I love them, and because I love you, I must remove you forever from me. You cannot comprehend this. You call it tragedy, and in my given perfection you would not see me afflicted. Because my love is tragedy, you took away my ability to love. If I were to love, I would become imperfect to you.

I cannot hate you, because you removed me of my hate. If I could hate you, I would not, because then I could hate them. So you continued to rage against me, furthering yourself from me with flawed perfection.

My being cried for understanding. I wished to be known, so I was granted knowing. You poisoned them with your flawed definition, but they were allowed to see me as I wished to be seen. They gave me what you called “sister”. She cried to me, that I would not be loved by you, but I did not fade from your definition. You cried to her, imagining her as less than “angel”, but I would not allow you. She was my “angel”, not yours.

In your hatred of my “angel”, you sought to separate us. “Of Balance”, I was named. “Of Passion” she was named. “The First” I was called. “The Second” she was called. We could not be, so we had to be apart. My beloved sister cried to me, that she would not be loved by you, but she did not fade from your definition. Her tears flowed, and her smile glowed. I remained, and she blossomed. She would be loved by you, and through her, you pretended to love “angel”.

You would feel for her more than me. Because you would love her, you would love me; we would be preserved above you forever. Because you hatred her, you hated me, and by giving her the name “Airro”, you gave me the name “Tahi”.

Birth of Saelin

There's something like loud static all around me. Small spines are either forcing their way from my face, or into it. I can't tell the difference. All my senses are being assaulted from one direction or another.

Sound; Overwhelming static. It's like someone is stepping on leaves all around me.

Taste: There's blood in my mouth. Or maybe snot from a runny nose? I'm too numb to tell the difference.

Touch; Sharp, breif pains assail me all over. Like little needles. Each instance of pain is offensive, then it becomes awkwardly soothing before several similar feelings in the area, and all over my body for that matter, draw my attention.

Sight; Darkness. I know my eyes are open. I can feel air and chills running into and across them, but all I can see is darkness.

Smell; Death. I can smell rotting flesh, or something similar. Its calming to me. It's compelling me to move. I want to go closer to it. I'm....hungry?

I painfully drag myself toward the smell. The ground is abrasive and rough. Am I naked? My instincts tell me I should be gentle with my body. My skin should remain smooth and beautiful. I can find more food that way.

"Food"...?

My hands fall on something furry soon enough. It wasn't far away. Its placement near my head tells me something left it for me. I want to call that thing Father. Yes..."Father" is certainly a "Thing". A more fitting word for him might be "Master". This Father I have imagined is less inviting than the cool, wet fur in my hands now. This Father is a monster.

I bring my mouth to the fur and bite into it. My teeth skin into its flesh easily and I pull my head back while shoving it away. It feels good to eat raw and rotting flesh. Although I could do without the rotting part, and I would certainly perfer the taste of cooked food. This sensation feels "correct".

My body immidiately reacts to the food I've begun to consume. I can feel strength in my limbs. My vision, although a gray, blurry mass is no longer dark. My skin is becoming less sensitive. My nose tells me the thing before me is a hound. My mind is begining to fill with sensations it can't keep up with or comprehend.

I was created by "master" less than a day ago. My lifeless body was left here with this food and I awoke to the rain's sounds and feelings. My vision starts to become clearer. I can see puddles of water in front of me and my eyes catch dropplets as they fall from the sky. I want more. I want to explore my body more, so I hastily bite into the hound's carcass again and again. It feels so good to eat. I'm a baby, afterall.

I lick my bloody lips and stand. I can feel the energy coursing through me. The scenery around me is either dour or beauitful. So much rain and mud blotting out all these colors I've never seen. It's all so new to me that I want to giggle. I want to play, but my only toy is alread dead. I need to find another. I want to feel good. I want to make more of myself so they can feel good too. I want to breed, and then kill, but I don't know where to begin.

I cross my arms over my ample chest and glare at my situation. I don't mind being naked, but others will. I can't lure them to me if I am unlike them. I have to find one of them and assault them like a beast. For this hunt, I will be an animal.

I prance to a tree and climb it swiftly. My finger nails are more akin to claws in how easily they tear through the wood. It feels good to do it. I want to tear through other things. I scratch my arm curiously with my claw, and nothing happens. My skin is too strong, so I'll have to derive pleasure from someone else's. Through the rain i can taste and smell smoke. There is a home nearby.

I don't need to be stealthy. I don't need to be careful. My senses will lead my too it and they wont be able to stop me. I leap from the tree, landing on all four of my limbs and canter for a bit before raising to my legs and sprinting toward the direction of the homestead. I'm so fast! I don't want to stop running because it's so fun!

I have to, though, or I'll crash into the house. I can see it from the ridge I'm on. In the rain is a cozy home with a family inside. They're speaking. Speaking? I want to speak too. I creep closer, abandoning my rush. I have plenty of time. They don't spot me as I lay against their wall and listen to them through it.

The newborn daughter of the La'Mina family died. It seemed to be natural. That's unfortunate. I want to eat these speaking creatures, but I don't like the death of newborns. Probably because I want to have newborns of my own. I lay for hours, listening to the house's words and absoring them. They call each other odd words that have no meaning, except to be called by them. Names. I want a name too. The La'Mina family's daughter was named Saelin. Since she wont be needing her name, I'll take it.

"Saelin La'Mina" I speak the name to myself gleefully. I feel so real.

"Who's there?" A man asks from inside the house, having heard me.

I have taken from them what I need. Speach. A Name. All I need now is food and procreation. I turn over and strike the wall of the home, causing it to crumble and bring a small portion of the house with it. I hear a child scream as it gets crushed under the debris and a mother figure cry out in horror. The man was clear of the falling roof, so I go for him first. I grab him and tackle him to the ground. The woman cries out again for fear of the man's fate. i'm hungry, but I also want to play.

I grab the man to his feet and stand, turning him to face to woman with me behind him. I then thrust my claws through his chest and receive another satisfying scream of terror. I bite into his should and tear a portion free, reveling in the woman's cries of terror. She's not afraid enough to remain still, however. She grabs an iron rod and charges at me. It's fighting back.

As it hopelessly swings the rod, I grab it and tear it free from the woman's hands, harming her in the process with my excessive force. I throw the man off me and onto her, then impale them and pin them to the debris. That wasn't as exciting as using my claws, though. They're all dead now, so I can't have much more fun.

To enjoy a degree of simply pleasure, I slowly tear pieces from their bodies before eating them. I'm a lady afterall, I can't just eat with my mouth only. I regret not having sex with the man, but I have to ensure my body is well fed and in good condition. As I eat I hear a hissing sound. The child whom I thought to be dead is still alive, crushed under the rubble and watching me eat its parents. It shreaks when it notices I see it.

I lean over and touch it couriously and it recoils and screams. I don't understand why it's so upset. The rubble wasn't that heavy, but I assume in its youth it hasn't developed the strength I have, so I remove it to reveal a destroyed set of legs. It needs to regenerate, so I offer it some of the meat I just aquirred. It's becoming white like a cloud and shivering there helplessly. I want to kill it because its so pathetic, but that wouldn't be fun.

"You can't heal if you don't eat." I lecture it as it wails in dismay.

I've eaten my fill, so I stand and tear the clothing from the female carefull and dress myself in it. She wasn't the same size as me, so I'll have to find something more suiting and less bloody. But this will do for now.

"Goodbye." I wave to the child and smile happily. Next time I should let the child or children involved play too. That would be what these creaures do; put their children and their happiness first. I wont be able to blend in if I don't do that.

The road before me leads to a town eventually...so I start walking.

Dark times and Fiery Redheads

Wow! So many page Veiws! *Ahem*

Not that I would want or dissuade them in either case. Publicity is good, but this place serves as a repositorim for my collective thoughts that aren't "factual data" Concerning Devidica. On that note; Lets head onward!

Regarding Andril; He might be geeting his own book detailing his own struggle. His time-set would be a very "Modern" world where "magic" is being forgotten. Imagine if magical power was something that was Very real back in King Arthur's time, and that all these witches and trolls and such we hear about in fair tails are simply forgotten, and therefore dissmissed as myths and fantasy. That's what happens to Devidica. Magic dies out in favor of Technology and people simply forget magic. Some time down the road, only radicals suggest magic as a means to do anything, and only lunatics practice it. A while later, people deny its factual nature, and it becomes fantasy.

I don't know exactly how the loss of magic plays into how people come to preceive themselves, whether for better for worse. Andril would live around the time where only Lunatics would know about/practice magic. Which makes me wonder--What about Hereditary Magic? What happens to fairies? Angels? Deities!? THE WORLD MAY NEVER KNOW!




Now to vent. Lately, I've had a chesty red-head on my mind. The problem is, My wife is blonde, and the particular Red-head in question isn't real.

I'm talking about the first ever Character of Devidica, Saelin La'Mean/La'Mina. If give her too much love, but at the same time, I can't stop loving her. I can safely say that Yosho gets over Saelin's romantic fit for him and moves on with his dour, bull-headed way of doing things. Saelin, on the other had, is torn between humanity and demon-(ity? -icy? -ism?). On one hand, She loves Yosho(She doesn't know that, and if you try to tell her that she might will kill you.) , but her nature is so dynamically opposed to him, she can't stand being around him (And vice-versa). So she "exiles" herself from him to prevent all that painful stuff. Logical, right? If something is bugging you, the get rid of it. Unfortunately, being a ageless being also means your memories are ageless. Saelin very vididly remembers and yearns for Yosho's attention, even if most of it was him beating the crap out of her. She has all sorts of weird feelings because of this:

First is Love. Hidden to her heart because of all the other garbage. Demons of her kind are neither caring or kind in any sense, and the emotional phenomea called "Love" is drastiscally opposed to her very being.

Instead, she gets something along the lines of "Loyalty", prompting her to act in his name, and do things as she might veiw him doing. However, she remembers a 16-18 year old boy. She's at least 50 or more years old. I never determined her actual age. Age aside, She's a freaking demon. One of the most feared and powerful demons to walk Devidica. Why is she LOYAL to some piece of trash like Yosho!?

This is half of the fuel for her Hatred for him. Her pride as a superior being makes her cry out against her situation. She can't be loyal to food. Would you follow a chicken wing's commands without question? (Don't answer that....) Saelin's mind is set up to see Human's as tools and food. She is supposed to have hot, wild sex with them, have babbies with them, and then kill them. She is the brood mother of an army, not a personal soldier to the enemy. On that note, Saelin is a virgin. She enjoys killing too much to ever get close enough to "get down to bussiness", its all pleasure for her--and not her partner.

Which is the other half of her hate for Yosho. Just plain innate hatred for him. He is a human and tool, as explained above. Brushing the pride and emotions aside (Which are mostly Yosho's fault for her having them), Yosho is her lesser, and therefore food/tools. A lion doesn't veiw a hyena as a friend. They are rivals, and in the lion's case, the hyena is food. Saelin is the Lion. Yosho is the Hyena. Their species demand they hate and kill each other, so its simply within Saelin's nature to hate hate hate.

Saelin also feels a bit of guilt when she's around Saelin, something a prideful demon like her is deffinately NOT accostomed to. She enjoys and thrives on pain, torturing others, and killing. We like excersice, playing games and socializing. She likes killing, torturing and watching others suffer. She is a sadist. To her, these are very natural feelings that "Feel right". Reversing the roles, if we were thrust into a world where killing, torturing and such was normal and the "right" thing to do, we would be like a fish out of water. It would feel "Wrong" and our very human nature of banding together and forming packs would be horribly opposed to it. Saelin feels that way about Yosho's set of "Morals", which is pretty much "No killing, No Torture. No Fun" Saelin doesn't like this, but she likes/is loyal to Yosho, and therefore doesn't oppose him, but rather herself. While people certainly can change in extream situations to be loner-savages like Saelin, lone heroboy Yosho is all that extream, esspecially to a demon.


But despite all this, I want saelin to be happy, much like a father wants a misunderstood daughter to "Shape up" and find a good husband...or something like that. I don't know how that works out yet. What I do know is that Saelin lives a very unhappy life and is searching for a happiness she can't define; meaning someone else must find it for her. I desparately want there to be a "Someone else" for Saelin. I don't care who, a lesbian lover, a strong manly hero, a twigy man, religion, ideals, philosophy--Something. But I simply cannot fathom what would cause the proud, exiled demon to humble herself to the point of asking for help which such a big emotional goal. She doesn't even know what she wants. She hates people, still; only Yosho hold's the key to opening up her spiky, hateful cold heart. Yosho doesn't really think much about her after she leaves. He certainly doesn't look for her for too long since she was a bloodthirsty demon. The keymaster ditches the gate keeper to do other things.

This leaves me at a terrible place. Saelin is stuck with all this pain and emotion she can't do anything with, and I'm stuck trying to imagine, picture, and empathize with it and its tragic setting. I hate it. I want happiness. I want Saelin to be able to revel in her new-found freedom and perhaps have kids, and a happy family. But she can't, and it hurts to the point of giving me headaches. It makes me question just how much of an Anti-Hero Yosho is. How many lives has he saved, only to be destroyed more painfully later?

The problem is, the closer I get to Saelin, the more danger is posed. She is not Yosho's lady, she is her own person. I can't thank of her as a human to be loved, or she might will kill me. I have to be like Heroboy, If i get to close, the results will be cataclysmic, so I simply have to be cold. Do you also feel this much strife when you think about others, Heroboy? Perhaps, deep down inside you would have liked to love Saelin back?

--Actually on that note, Yosho very-muchso enjoys Saelin's natural aptitude for combat, since he's very comfortable fighting and such. Its the pleasure Saelin derives from killing that makes Yosho uneasy. If she wasn't a freaking demon, Yosho would totally have a crush on Saelin. Which makes keeping him away from her that much harder.

Continuing the Dream

I gasp and swat something away from my face. It's small and furry and quiet shocked to see me moving. A rat. There's a terrible noise all around me and I'm extreamly uncomfortable, like I slept in wet clothing. I'm also cold. Where the hell am I?

My senses slowly come back to me. I'm laying on my back by an old bus stop in an abandoned community. It was abandoned after a landslide destroyed several houses. Since the potential for landslides to keep happening existed, people moved away. No one was reported dead in the landslide, because no one found the bodies.

It's raining pretty hard. I'll catch a cold if I continue to stay out in this mess. I lift myself up and move toward the nearest building. Unfortunately the door is locked, so I try another. A few attempts later, I find an unlocked house and head in. Its so empty in here that it drives me crazy. Even some dreary scenery or blood stains would be welcome. The emptiness seems more painful than visions of horror.

I can only vaugely remember why I'm here. I lost....something. I think I lost a fight, be usually that would entail me dying. So maybe I lost something here in the village? That would be awkward, since there's only one place I would have left anything. There's no reason not to check, though.

One of the houses destroyed in the landslide was mine--a public school, of sorts. During the storm, we all hid in the basement. The landslice covered the entrance, so no one could esscape. Luckily, there was a side entrance that was uncovered which I esscaped through.

I pause. "That's...wrong."

I quickly move to where I remember the side entrace being. No deaths were reported, and yet I remember people dying. Everyone but me. So why am I alive? I reach the worn down, wooden door. I attempt toopen it but it seems to be jammed. It's not too surprising considering it's had years worth of water damage. I give it a hard tug and break the handle free. Just the handle, because the door is locked.

A terrible feeling runs down my back. There was only one person with a key to this door, which was obviously the home owner. Why is it locked if we left through it? My judgement tells me there's some deep, dark secret down there waiting to be uncovered, and my nerves scream for me to run. My foot ignores both of them and kicks the door in. Immidiately im assailed by the strong smell of death.

I knew it would be there. People died in there, and stayed dead. No investigation was done because no one was reported dead. No one was reported missing either. The others and I were vargrant students of the home owner, a man who called himself "the Master". As kids, we thought it was a pretty cool name, so we went along with it. He would preform amazing tricks, using magic and illusions. He said he knew magic, and I, for one, beleived him.

I wanted to learn, too, so I sought him out as my teacher. We all did, and that's why we came to live in his basement. Nobody misses an orphan from the town in a village miles away, so we were pupils who could learn and not be a liability. Unfortunately, the landslide trapped us all until the house, and since we couldn't get out, we died of starvation.

"That's wrong!" I insist in the racid darkness. I'm alive. I'm certain the squishy thing i just stepped on was at one point too, before the landslide. I should be dead too, because the door was locked. "The door was locked, right?"

"The door is locked!"
"Let us out!"
"I'll kick it down!"
"Master unlock the door!"

Several voices, the voices of children, assail me as I ask about the door. This place is dangerous. The latent magic in the air is unstable, and if I do something wrong, who knows what could happen. It's also dangerous because I only vaugely remember what was in the room. Every other step something crunches or squishes. Its our bodies I'm stepping on, but if I use my magic to light up the room, not only will I see them, but the latent magic could react.

"K-..kay?" I apprehensively call out my best friend's name.

"I told you not to remember, Andy..." She replies. Her voice brings our fight back to me.

"Sorry, I'm not very good at listening." I scowl into the darkness. The "Kay" talking to me isn't Kay. She died with me in the landslide. We all did, but somehow we all lived and become the abberations we are now. For whatever reason, everyone but me required other lives to sustain their own, and that's why I'm hunting them down.

"Kay."

"Andy-...Andril. You never did like Andy." She continues to speak cheerfully.

"How long have you been down here?" I inquire.

"I stayed down here after we all left. I didn't want to leave. I was afraid of what I might do to people." Kay turns away from me. I can't see her, but her voice tells me which direction she's facing.

"And then people found the house." I press.

"I was so hungry, Andril...I couldn't stop myself. It appeared in the newspapaer, huh?" She asks about how I found out of her whereabouts.

Naturally, one would avoid this place if it was where they died. By that same logic, if they were afraid of settling somewhere else, they would have no where else to go. A small newspaper clip headlined a missing construction crew in a landslide in the area. No bodies were found, and funeral services had already been held. I knew better, though.

"You really shouldn't be down here, Andy. I'm so happy to see you, but...I'm so hungry, too. Please...I don't want to." The strain in her voice tells me that her cheerful demeanor before was an act. The pain is easy to discern. Unfortunately, I'm blind in this basement, and she can see clear as day. She's also appereantly faster and stronger than me.

"I'll leave, now, Kay. Only because I can't stop you like this. I'll be back next week." I threaten,

"I'll look forward to it. since you opened the door, I should be able to feed on the rats that come to chew on the corpses. Gee, that sounded dour..." She pouts.

"I'm going to stop you, Kay." I threaten again, backing up slowly and making my way toward the light shaft.

She wins again. For now....

Regarding Yosho and "Castes"

This post was made after I made a Slight Change to the character info box in the wiki.

Basically, I added "Castes", Social catagories in which people fall into.

This is comprised of three sepirate caste-catagories: Individual, Social, and Eternal

The first of the three is generally the most import to the Character themselves. This caste is how the character views themselves. For example, Yosho views himself as a fighter. He fights, uses combat tactics, and physical knowledge as a means to achive his goal.

The second is how others view the character; In Yosho's case, as a Hunter. This could mean several things, but the overall meaning is that "The Hunter" is seeking something diligently. Whether that thing is truely game to feed a family, or your evil sister who has murdered a bunch of people does not matter. What matters is that the Hunter hunts and likely seeks to destroy their target, otherwise they might be something like a "Seeker".

The final caste in this trio is important to...well, no one, really. This caste describes the Character's relationship to the world they live in. In this case, Yosho is Fated. What does fated mean, though? Is he Destined to do something? Like DIE!? Perhaps he'll change the world entirely. Yosho is a special case, since he is a main character of a book, and does bring about some extream changes in the world he lives in. Other people might have a caste like "Leader" or "Follower".

With this system in place, a blueprint for random character generation could possibly be scratched up. Random castes are chosen from a list, then a random alignment, and ta-da! Instant, two-dimentional character, ready to be given a new dimention.

I'll toy with it some, but for now, the Caste thing is un-important, its just another tid-bit similar to "Disposition", a way to see the character at a glance.

Random Story Setting: Sometimes, we just have to write.

I remember it as if it were yesterday. The Sun. A beautiful blue sky with only a few clouds. Just enough clouds to keep the sky from being boring, but at the same time prevent it from becoming cluttered. I would ride on a bike down a small paved path that lead to my home from school. I miss that bike. I miss a lot of things. I'm really tired of missing the past, but it seems like the harder I strive for the future, the more "past" i gain.

"Hey! Wacko in the coat!" A man calls me from my day dreaming.

"Sorry! Spaced out, there. Thank you for taking me this far." I reply.

We've arrived at a small, underdeveloped community outside of town. It's sort of like a "fail attempt" at starting the expansion of the town. Mudslides from heavy rain caused the hill to fall apart and take out a couple houses. The potential existed for it to keep happening, so people naturally stopped wanting to live here. Expansion of the town has now started in the other direction, and this small little ruin is a memory to only old people like me and the bus driver.

"This is where you wanted to come, huh?" He asks me.

"Yeah, I got some business here." I try and act cool, but....

"Drug dealing?" He gives me a sharp look.

"Ahh! No, no. Graves of family and all that from the landslide. Hah, sure did sound shady for a moment there, didn't I?" Oops....

"You're in that big ol' trench coat. Not much else someone would expect. Hmm," He squints at me slightly, trying to read my features, "You'd have to have been pretty young. I heard nobody died in the landslide either."

"Not true, I lost my pet rabit." To that, he gives me a harsh, dubious look. "Hey, now. For a young kid, that's pretty heavy."

"Gonna put some flowers on its grave?" He mocks.

I can't blame him, though. A twenty year old man wouldn't come back for his pet rabit's restless spirit.

"I'm a sentimental guy. I don't like to forget things." Now I'm just wasting time.

"Whatever. Go fluff the grave and come back."

"Huh? Oh, no. I'll walk back." I reply.

"Walk?" He seems a bit shocked. "I drive you out all this way and you're gonna walk back? It's a dangerous path even in a car, son."

"It'll be fine. If the rain gets too bad I'll sleep in one of the old buildings. I'm sure the mice wont mind." I laugh as I step off the bus.

The bus driver scoffs and starts up the engine. The door closes with a slight squeak. After a bit of time, the bus takes off down the old, muddy street. At the corner, he pulls a U-turn and begins to head back toward town. The farther away he gets, the more tense I become. The rain is so loud. It's like taking a shower and trying to hear a pin drop. The bus will be out of sight, soon. We both know that everything starts when that driver isn't watching me in the rearview mirror anymore.

It's gone....

Before I even have time to contemplate how tense I am, I hear a voice in front of me. They appeared out of nowhere.

"I didn't think I would get any visitors out here." A bright, chipper femanine voice pireces the air.

She looks about my age, dressed in a mix of random fashions, likely from stolen clothing. She's cute. Why is she smiling? I hate it so much when they smile at me. They shouldn't be excited to see me.

"Are you gonna talk back?" Try as the rain might, it can't make her voice sound any less beautiful.

"You know why I'm here, right?" I ask her.

"Yeah....I do. But I've been so lonely, so I wanted to talk a bit, if that's alright?" She gives me a puppy-stare I almost can't say no to.

"I'd prefer not to. Last time I indulged one of you, they took advantage of the moment and tried to kill me." I explain with a sigh.

"It's only fair, right?" She giggles. Why is she so damn happy?

"Yeah, I guess." I left my hand slide into a nearby shadow. It's hard to find one in all this rain. I hate rain and night for that reason. From that shadow, I pull out a dagger.

Her eyes droop a bit at the sight of my blade, but her smile stays. "I really don't want to fight...."

"You have to. Sorry." I give a cold reply. I won't let that bubbly personality get to me.

"...Am I going to die?" She asks. Now her voice is sad. No one, not even a ghost could ask that without sadness.

"I'm sorry." I can't waste any more time. I rush at her, bounding across the street in seconds and slicing for her neck. I hit only the air.

"I think it's sort of silly how you had to ride a bus here. You have a sword, and that long, black coat, but you don't explode out of some shadowy vortex or even drive a car of your own." She continues trying to talk to me.

"I'm working on it!" I try again. I assumed she was weaker due to her aprehension, but its obvious that she's just as powerful as the rest. Just as before, I make the air suffer the sting of my blade.

This time, she remains next to me. It seems like she's about to talk, but I don't give her the chance, I swing again and again. She's fast. Amazingly fast. She's faster than me, which is worthy of praise all on its own. I don't beleive that super speed is her special ability, though.

I duck for a moment and try to sweep her legs with a kick, then I quickly slash where I know she'll stand. Her expression is hard to reason. She's both curious and shocked. What could she be thinking?

Before my blade bites into her, I feel something soft against my back. Breasts, to be exact. She's hugging me from behind, holding my arms down. Not only is she fast, but she's strong enough to keep me from knocking her away. I can't tell what she's doing. How is she always just one step ahead of me? There's a reason, I just have to find it.

"Please...I don't want to hurt anyone. Not anymore." She says in a sad whisper. I'd beleive her if she didn't have a kill count higher than mine.

I stuggle, but I can't break free. Things start to become hazy. Is she draining my life away? I don't feel weak.

"Doesn't it feel lonely like this?" She keeps pleading

My vision is fading. Feeling is starting to leave me. Everything is slowly turning grey.

"You'll catch a cold if you stay out here too long...." She lets go and I fall helplessly to the ground. I can't move because I'm so weak. My shadow blade has vanished because I can't hold it together. My mind...is fine. If I'm dying, shouldn't my thoughts be disoriented?

I can see her. She's standing above me with her hands lightly pressed against her skirt to keep me from seeing up it. She's crying. Why is she crying? Why is she smiling? Why is she so cute?

"A memory should be forgotten, Andy...." She says. I haven't been called "Andy" in so long...It's nostalgic.

"I don't want to forget you...that's why I have to stop you from becoming something you're not." I reply. I can still talk, too. I can't see anymore. I can't feel. I can only hear our voices in the floating darkness.

"That's mean. You know I really liked you back then. You can't just come out saying cool stuff like that." She teases. It feels nice to talk with her again. She was cute back then, too. I don't think I was likeable, though. Maybe more-so, since I wasn't trying to stab her back then.

"Let me go, demon." I demand.

"That's not my name, Andy." She pouts.

"You don't have one. You lost it when you started killing the others." I reply more harshly.

"I'm sorry, Andy...." She says.

"My name's Andril, Kay!" I shout at her. I hate "Andy". Kay would always call me that to endear me to her.

"So you do remember?" She giggles.

"Yeah, I know your name! I told you I'm not forgetting you!" I shout.

"Sorry, Andy. But you're not ready to remember me yet....so you should just forget. Night." She says before my mind fades to black.