Comital Chronicles of the grand Heptane Jiju Seguri, patron of the house of Lunupu Mijiri, composed by the Prefect of the Segurian settlement.
15-torrule,
This day was one of grand sorrow, fear, and confusion. There has not been such a stirring since the death of Qejonu; it is terrible to see our lord so distraught once more. And this, I think, touched him ever more. So soon. Had we been of the ancient water-brained Pagans we would surely have cried out that the end of days is incoming. The days began pleasantly enough for Jiju and us all, that god protecting the settlement from savage demons and engaging in much-won carnal pleasures of cooked meat, alcohol, and music. I attended to my own duties, a guide to these people.
He had been employed in his meals as an educated servant-priest read to him a comedic novel the god much enjoyed. It had been composed by his old master Gigo Rrrere. “And then the spirit Pepu said to him in the form of a most round and shimmering fat frog, “Look upon here! You are being called upon by the grandmaster and father of your people!”” And the monk tooked all around him, “Who is there? What jest is thi-” and Pepu angrily said to him, like cutting, burnin winds, “From down here-I am the grand god Pepu, servant of mine! Obey” And the monk looked won and finally spotted the-”
A sound of grand stremor broke through the whole temple, a modest thing of wood but wonderfully decorated. An architect of good standing had helped build the style-a very modern dwelling. Jiju Seguri sighed and said to his servant-priest, ‘Go, Siri Poquito. See what that most annoying sound was.“ Poqiso said to him, in the soothing tone he usually utilized, like soft cotton in the form of a rolling hill, “My most serene master. Worry yourself not for such a thing-you know how rowdy children are in this season!”
The god had begun taking some food which had found itself wrapped around his shaggy beard, unkempt due to the early hour, “I s’pose you’re correct, Puqi Hiit. If this beard isn’t the darndest thing to control! All hair is awfully difficult.” The beardless man, though they may both share the deeply brown skin, only nodded at that. Still, the sound came back again, again and again. A tremendous and desperate sound hammered and punched, heaved and wrecked itself. With lightning quickness, they realized they weren’t simply dealing with, “Rowdy children,” or any such thing.
After some moments, the man stood, imposing as an old-growth tree,“Must be some of the folk that Seguri Jiju angered by taking the village common,” he shook his head, but chuckled at their similar names. His father had simply switched the characters around for his son and goddaughter. “ ‘Thought they’d all learned with all the forced disappearances she’s been performing. He must be working alone; hence his desperation. Even the town square is crowded no more with those vagrants! Who will help him? Awful, annoying, but no matter. No man could jump across-” Just at that moment the sound of a terrible fall. As though some inhuman creature, some beast of field and forest, had done such a thing was heard.
The servant-priest appeared outright terrified, like some leaf at the mercy of brutal wind, and hollered out, “Oh, master! They must have called forth a spirit-or brought some mighty Mentat- to attempt to get you to repeal-Oh, what shall-” the grand god Jiju simply stood up with a proud look to him, and went around the room rapidly to obtain his saber. Omen of death, shimmering and eager to glut itself with blood. “Pay it no mind-I know this kind of spirit. There is a horrid smell to it, it is a weak thing. This is just some stubborn wannabe-god, they don’t have the makings of a proper warrior. More like beasts than men.”
He prepared to encounter the unknown creature, stealthily opening the door on the second floor's secret entrance. A most uncomfortable fall, but one he could make with his beastly strength. The grand spirit within a human vessel muttered extremely lightly to himself, “Although, it is rare for them to be so bold as to walk into my home.” Regardless, those pitter-patter footsteps had not been those of something possessing a human frame. Smell and sound deceived, but brush strokes could most usually be determined.
He grew frozen with animalistic terror, the remmentants of the brain which he had made his own when he took the life from the man and made it a living corpse. A good lineage, that one, many good idols come from it. He hadn’t expected the beast to know this entrance-and yet he felt the sharp teeth, right across his idol's neck. A startling reminder-he was currently made of flesh, and flesh could be obliterated. Torn into soft and malleable chunks, stripped of the blood and the life. His mind already began to think of a possible way out as he tightened the grip on his saber.
“Stop with that,” the spirit said, in a voice which surprised him in its soft yet urgent tone. The female creature behind him smelled above all of rot, to a far, far grander degree he had assumed, and the gargled sound was one of lungs filled with both watery and viscous fluid. “You have some nerve, arrogant young lady,” he said to the creature, smell unrecognizable and foreign, a piece that does not fit, “Sneaking into my home and interrupting the meal of a great god-I’ll let you know you have here-”
She let out a tremendous amount of coughs, wretched things coming out, wetting his own neck. It didn’t move, not by the smallest and most miniscule amount, did it relax its grip on his life. It wasn’t a human, the creature, though bipedal, or a bird either though to them it bore similarities. It was one of the feathered bipeds, feathers of birds with the teeth of crocodiles, long tails resembling a dragon and above all else and a pair of imperfect grasping appendages. “Quiet you-I don’t suppose you can recognize me in this putrid and most weakened state. I am Huse Napasa-and I came here to provide a warning above all. And to seek aid, a place to die, if that is possible.”
The thought of his old friend being wretched and dying to this degree was a thought too horrible to even bear, and he didn’t seem pleased that it was even uttered, “That is impossible-If one of this archduchy’s' great princely gods had moved against us, we would have noticed. And weakened though she may be, Huse Napasa is still a frightening goddess.” he sneered, and remembrance oozed into his tone, “The only reason the Qasegaja are still standing whole is her sad sentimentality. You-you are a sad, dying thing.”
“I am a sad, wretched, dying thing,“ she said to him with melancholy evident in her words, “That is what I came here to warn you-Drink my blood if you believe me not! What better way is there to prove-” He responded to her with slithering quickness, “I don’t need to do to see it is not so; I refuse” She stopped herself, mind racking itself in spite of the pain and exhaustion wracking through her body-surely she just wanted to sleep, sleep and never rise again. “We are some of each other's oldest friends. We grew up together, at that. I remember when Gigo Rrere was still alive, when the two of us fought tooth and claw against the southern kings of the Nasu Jisu. I remember when your first human son grew sick from an assassin-I remember how small little Rrala Gelu was when his flesh was carved and skull placed among those of his mothers line. You learned much about death, then.”
“Stop,” he said, emotion clear in his voice, but grip on his saber loosening as the waves loosen a sovereign stone. The memories weren’t grand events. “I remember the pact we made when Gigo Rrere died, “To go our separate ways; but to remember forever tied, as was the most prudent choice.”” Finally, he let go of the saber, and without wind in his voice, “By all our great and ancient ancestors; What possibly happened to you.”
She grunted, and spoke up in a meager tone as the exhaustion became too great and she laid on the floor, “I;m, I’m so, so tired.” With a brisk voice she continued, “It was the fault of a most wretched fool. A powerful fool-a necromancer of immense power. I helped him acquire the corpse of Rejonu-a small part of it. Somehow, someday, he fashioned that piece of dead god-flesh, Qejonu, that mass of fungi. He-he fashioned it into something of absolute power.” Even to her those words surely sounded delusional.
Jiju Seguri appeared disturbed by that, but remained incredulous despite himself, “My-my friend, you-you say. But it can’t be! A single necromancer-creating that powerful god?And for you to defame John's corpse in such a way-He was wretched, but the least out of all of our master spaw-” She snarled at him, fierce as a cutting desert wind, “I know what I saw! I know how it felt to have some disgusting toy I helped create, destroy and exorcise my very being.” She bowed and smashed her head against one of the wooden planks, “I’m sorry, I’m-”
“Enough of that,” He said to her, with kindness and firmness all the same,”What is done is done, harming this idol of yours will do us no good. Just tell me about this entity.” She breathed deeply and continued, “I don’t think the necromancer himself realized his own power and that of his creation. I don’t think his power is his own-all necromancers have pieces of godly essence within them. He must have long-ago been part of some other plan-that’s my theory” It was with momentous strength she managed to heave out those parts.
He nodded, and he remembered his own, distant now, crusades to reconquer the southern peninsula. To reconquer the last of the strongholds of the Pagan King of Kings in the Mayohuacan lands. Folks of the self-proclaimed, “Empire of the Five Fifths”. That place had abounded in them-Infidels, yet so different and in some ways more disturbing than the fearsome Culiqaquits and the now mostly vanished northern pagans. “Are you certain you were not deceived? I know Necromancers practice other forms of evil magic, most wretched witchcraft. They may have been preparing a regional spiritual vicar for a mighty god to pass through, fooling you.”
And she, with exhaustion, pleading and shreds of cutting rage, said, “I beg you, while I have strength to do so, to believe me. In whole. What do we really know about those mysterious peoples at any rate?” Seeing such words sink into him like a fearsome stone, he nodded. She, after some honking coughs, said, “ I stand by what I said, I can’t tell why, I can’t tell how, or anything else. His name was Sanu Nepe and he was a rageful and deluded man-that is all I know for certain. He had two helper-sons-servants. It was strange-you know how those people are” She sighed, and following yet another supremely terrible coughing fit manage to stammer, like a heavy plow tearing through rooted soil, “l hope you manage to forgive my foolishness-I helped him create a Tulpa in the likeness of a zealot Culicaquist god.”
He appeared not so much disturbed as confused and saddened, the realizations finally sinking deep downi, “I forgive you, entirely. Although-although I just want to know what you thought when you helped create such terrible things..” She could barely muster the energy to move now that her rotting idol encountered its flesh ever so slowly being torn apart, “You know me-I wished-I wished to give my people hope with that toy. Then tear it from them, make them sink into despair, and welcome me as their goddess, having no other pillar to stand on.”
He sadly nodded, glum in emotions and looked, “That sounds like you. You were always enticed to devotion and attached to your people…” He nodded, “I understand, Huse Napasa. I know what I must do. I will get you a healer-” Huse Napasa let out a chortle chuckle, “I do not think that will work-his very spirit is within this idol. It is already so terrible, and I feel so alone without the rest of me, but it is only just beginning.” But after a moment she let out winged words, “But perhaps he’ll help smoothen by passing; Very well, bring him.‘
And Jiju Seguri, grand warrior god, could not help but cry in anguish.
…
I arrived roughly around that time, convened by the great god Jiju Seguri, alongside the priest-doctor from one of the major Ojotilic cults dedicated to such a practice in the region. It was Lumu Peneme, “Aid in killing”, a funny name now that the princely goddess has discarded her warrior-origins. It was only one rather young living member of the cult that resided within this town, and he said to me as he met each other on the way to find the Jiju’s temple, as that deity appeared to be entirely crazed, “Ah, holy Prefect. Have you knowledge of what had gotten this god quite so hysterical?”
I ran alongside him, or moved my stout but much less young bones fast as I could, “I have no knowledge of why that is; but I think we ought to hurry. It wouldn’t be good to have an enraged god in such a small settlement.” The young man opened the lock with a key, and helped me go up the stairs; my knee-wound from my youthful warrior days ailing me. “Come here, come here!” So came our grand gods' billowing voice. Knowing at least some decent theurgical techniques, the two of us, the stench of a rotting spirit was clearly evident. The warning-smell dying spirits released. We approached the god, who appeared to be not as infuriated as when his small birdlike puppet had flown above. “You-Lumenian, check on this spirit with the power I’ve granted you. I have always been a god more concerned with the destruction of vegetation than any sort of creation. Quick.”
The young man nodded and grew close to the fallen idol. The spirit was possessing a she-beast which could have been rather imposing at its prime, and it clearly could still tear through flesh. But it was tired, and from the smell it was rotting and being eaten, the process just beginning. As his hands approached the creature and small, wormlike appendages left the scars on his hands he said to the god, “You know I’m no surgeon, sir. I may worship the sacred Peneme, but I’ve little more knowledge of healing than what my father and the wandering doctor-priest seminaries taught me.”
He didn’t seem too pleased with that. Before he could say anything I voiced my own questions, “What is going on sir, who is this lady?” He spoke with certainty now, and steel in his voice “I-She’s Huse Napasa, old prefect.” I stuttered at that, it seemed unlikely such a great goddess could find herself in such a predicament. In political standing she had fallen, but in strength not so much, “What kind of fearsome great god had struck against her. Is it Nolina? Are you sure it is her?” Huse Napas had sent a letter of praise for her part when she proclaimed herself Chief Patron of Rilu Jiguhi, writing it in this very settlement, but all knew how much she disliked that traitor-spawn of Gigo Rrere. She was a Slayer of her Own father, to a degree larger than her brethren. They too, she had destroyed.
“I’ve tasted her blood and talked with her; she is Huse Napasa. Do not ask this of me again.” I gulped, one of my nervous tics, and nodded to him. The young man had moved to check the vital organs of the goddesses idol. “Her heartbeat seems relatively normal. Her breathing, though, it seems the spirit of the attacking god within her has released a viral attack. They are filled with some fluid, and the throat is producing tremendous amounts of mucus. She has a slight fever..” He marveled shortly thereafter, almost worried, “I’ve never seen a goddess this badly ill. Much less treated one.”
“It is a Tulpa, a necromantic Tulpa. An abomination I helped create. I had a plan, another sad plan, to bring my people to heel.” As always, coughing came out terribly, with that birdlike honking sound, “Don’t overwork yourself, your body is tired from the strain and inner combat-.” She retorted sharply to the priest-doctor, “And it will only get weaker-prefect, I made Jiju Seguri come here so that you may record what I’ve told him, and what I will tell him. The settlement of the Qasegaja-” she had to stop for some moments, “And all the rest of my former lands are in chaos.”
I recorded all which I have transcribed prior to this moment, in a stenographic manner so as not to fall behind. I also received new information, which I will record here. It was garbled and it seems Huse napasa didn’t always keep track of it. Her mind, I believe, is as warbled as a sea being played with by the mighty winds. Prince Bishop-Qehepatanu, and Prince Bishop Ojotilla of this diocese, when you read this, keep a healthy amount of doubt as to the exact validity of the goddesses mind. Keep in mind her horrid mentals state and the terrible powers of the Culiqaquist entities.
In an act of Heresy the goddess contributed to some of the unbelievers, particularly a vanished Necromancer and two younger individuals who appeared to be son-apprentices in a sad mockery of some Ojotillan cults practices. She planned to create with a well-behaved but weak spirit. To destroy and devour both it, the necromancer, and his spawn in a bloody massacre. In a rather unbelievable twist, the sickly goddess explains a most terrible entity was created, and has emboldened the local spirits of the people.
I believe it evident that a single one of these foreign necromancers, no matter how much they might think themselves masters, could simply create a spirit so strong alone. I believe she has been deceived and some local god, perhaps part of a conspiracy by the kingdom of Pesipa Pupehuna or, even more likely, a grand conspiracy by the Culiqaquists done to bring forth one of their own. Sad goddess, let us not spread this rumor.
…
Journal of Nesi Roju, loyal priest-doctor of Lumu Peneme.
17-torrule, 6-kisumu- By my holy patron, I need to write in this more often.The condition of the divine patient has only worsened since she was brought in some days ago. I think I still remember how it went down;While the god argued relentlessly, “I’ve come to believe what my friend tells us-do you propose she is a liar?” We said to him, particularly the prefect who knew what he was talking about. I will admit I know little about philosophical theory, or laws of the Rrerorian and Jihonian gods. “Of course not, but admit to the facts. You are a god and we mentats, where it counts; we understand the divine spirit.”
Such things did he calmly say, “If it is not unthinkable that the power of a god might ever be imitated to such a degree, a singular piece of a divine corpse turned into a mighty god by a single man. Is it not believable?” The two argued about such things more than I care to write, if I am to admit to such a thing. I do not care to record the entire mass of things which are spoken and I didn’t even attend much of it. I helped bring Huse Napasa to the home of the sick.
“This harmful spirit focused on me,” she had told me, even as it seemed the prior adrenaline had worn off and her body desired naught but sweet sleep, “You could leave me in the middle of the market-place and nothing would transpire.” She was still groggy, most certainly, and didn’t quite realize the situation.”I don’t want to leave Jiju alone, and I’ve always liked to see people walk from high places. Like a bird,” such things did she say. “For now,” I said to her, with as much kindness as I could, “But you have a Sojihu Solino. If one of the gods' idols approaches and commands the spirit within you, it will turn into a terrible plague. It would take princely strength and control, but this god seems to possess such might.” The realization hit her and as we walked she let fly, “I realized that, I realized that” I said once more, in an even softer voice, “I am terribly sorry.”
She had the good grace that, for the moment, the sick were simply few who were taken care of by their own families . I checked on them regularly. The place was a property donated to me, which was where I dwelt and took care of those with terrible illness and nowhere else to go. “It’s not too horrible, I suppose,” she grumbled, “Of a place to await pale death.”
4-ryuga, 2-nipune- I’ve written notes but not in this for a while; nothing happy to report. Her condition is worsening. I can use the powers bestowed on me by Jiju Seguri and some of my grand lady Luma. Huse Napsas spirit control over the body's central nervous system is as strong as ever, but the body itself is growing destroyed and nagged at increasing speed. I have been able to locate the source of the trouble-the spirit of this god. It likely belongs to one wretched usurper who fancies himself the name “Kujumanacali”, “Glory of the morning star,. At least if the very slickest of rumors from merchant-folk, subject to other grand Ojotilla and minor Quequechan dynastic-guardians, are anything to go by.
It has clogged a large amount of blood vessels and consumed many key amounts of tissue. Mass-death in the non-vital areas the goddesses spirit is protecting has ensued. “I am only not dead yet since he is not proud enough to follow me with his stolen puppets into another's territory-not yet.” Her mood is worsening as well.
The god Jiju Seguri comes to visit her often. Indeed, I believe that once the hours-long argument with the prefect ended, one in which he acquiesced was convinced and quit his argument, he spent more time here than within his own home. The prefect, of course, has his own duties to attend to in moral guidance, schooling, and handling of disputes. And I believe the god has temporarily shifted many of his idols duties in this settlement to that Mentat, for he is a decent one. His tribe have a strange form of lying; they go so far as to refer to it as humility.
He often reads to her, as her condition worsens to irreparable depths. Seguri Jiju also came to visit her once, that great Wyrm that rules the town alongside the five prominent members of the ruling noble family, and Jiju Seguri. “So you came to see me off, you old serpent.” Huse Napasa, chuckled as a rolling wave of wind, “You know not of what force we have unleashed the two of us, with this meddling. And you who wished to be rid of the opponents to your reforms! I who used those devils to vanish the one who led the resistance against you, through the hand of no known spirit!” Such reforms were common in many settlements; always unpopular. Without the village common the very poor too had to pay the taxes the wealthy peasants had to endure to their grand lord; and in debt were forced to subpar lifestyle and a smaller form of serfdom.
While she had come to state her condolences, Seguri Jiju merely said, burning iron in her flowing voice, “Oh, now, do not be foolish; we did not so much create a new evil as beckon it. You were decieved, like the sad thing you’ve always been.” She snarled, and after multiple attempts managed to stand up from the floor, “You would doubt my words?” The great wyrm, deadly green eyes blazing, prepared to speak. On both of her sides there stood wyverns. Children of hers, wyvern imitations of grand Pterosaurs and crocodilians, and kobold imitations of apes arms, feathered bipeds bodies, and heads of birds. All with Seguir Jiju’s distinctive touch to their flesh and bone; for she wielded powers beyond most Mentats. “I wouldn’t doubt your words, friend. You have all my condolences for your undeserved situation. I would merely doubt that of the self-proclaimed necromancers. It is clear your mind has suffered grievous harm, your words are but hapless, jumbled folly.” At that the goddess clenched her ivory teeth.
“She had a point, blame yourself not for the creation of a new evil,” is what Jiju Seguri said to Huse Napasa. Huse Napasa grumbled with frustration, “You would take her side when I am at my lowest?” He said to her with only sad understanding, “I know how you feel but I spoke long and hard with the perfect, and tested things out myself. It'd be best not to stoke up two fears at once, that is the Culiqaquists desire. It is more likely it is one that wretched gods, that slayer of his own, his spawn that has come. Its spirit even tastes like one. The Chief Deceiver is an abhorrecile ancient-.”
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Huse Napasa only said, in between the terrible honking coughs, and through a long amount of time said, “Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter so long as you bear your full strength at him. Do not underestimate him.” The great god Seguri Jiju bowed to her and said, “I would never dream of doing. I tell you; till my dying breath I will make sure to combat that wretched being.”
He clenched his teeth in rage, “I could never find it in myself to forgive them. Yet another reason to hate them do they give me!” Huse napasa let out some chuckles, deep and sickly as always, “I always liked that about you-ever since we were kids, you never very rarely surrendered your goals.” And he responded to her, kindness in his voice, “You are like that too-never did you abandon those wretched people of yours.”
She had already laid herself down to rest upon cloth, but it is at this point that she said to him, “I don’t know if I feel more tired or pained. Some parts are growing numb, all feeling having slithered away.” Even Seguri Jiju seemed displeased with that, “I will also ensure they pay-this action is a spitting insult to the venerable traditions even the most ancient rulers gave allegiance to. Society works only when all know their place, when rulers are harsh but kind and the country-folk lend their services and are provided in turn. Those people of yours are wretched-but to kill the goddess of their ancestors….” She finally said, tearing with force like a dagger through cloth, “They will pay.”
Seeing their mothers rage and hearing key words so often used to command them as per their mothers spirit within them, they growled in rage. And I do say, the rage of a dragon is a most wretched thing. Like some magnified mockery of the cry of a fighting-rooster! Our goddess Huse Napasa appeared in those moments rather quite sickly struggling to move her head as they kept speaking to her. It appeared as though she were about to make some retort, but it came out choked before another fit of coughing overcame her. She eventually mustered out to the mighty serpent, large enough to eat a man whole with only barely unhinging her jaw, “Although in your case, old worm, I’d say you act with more harshness than kindness. Same as me.” They both shared a chuckle at that.
“Perhaps it would be best if you let her rest,” I commented, with sweeping quickness thereafter adding, “Her spirits are most certainly lifted up by your words, but she is most exhausted.” Jiju Seguri looked at her with displeasure, although it seemed more generally aimed considering the cotton-soft tone, “You’ve always been so energetic; ever since we were children. To see you like this.” He shook his head, “That Heretic will not be allowed to spread his reign of terror in my watch.”
…
7-ryuga, 6-sugu- The goddess entered a critical period that night. Her temperature went up most profusely. A kindly volunteer, a mere child, had been watching over her as I handled the diagnosis of some little girl's dreadful new bacterial illness. Many things I have to do-often I worry that I am unfit to handle so many, so varied things. But I suppose it is better than those dwellings which have none at all in our medicinal brother and sister hoods, or those who deal with the suffering-fanatics of the Culiqaquists. Is it not clear to them that suffering is something wretched, made by our most ancient forebears-gods to warn of impending doom?
“Mister!” the child said to me, some twelve years of age if I were to guess by their features, “The goddess-she’s much worse! She’s got a terrible fever! You told me to call you if anything seems odd-and-” I took the child's words as truth because their features were contorted in terrible anguish. I said to her, “Go get my usual helpers-I don’t suppose it’ll subside over the night.” She said to me, “Should I tell the lord Jiju, sir?” I debated long over it but eventually said to her, “It is not necessary; He has already arranged all he can. ”
The goddess was indeed most wretched in her condition. She was whimpering and calling out in tongues and dialects now fallen out of favor, molded into the modern Rrerorian language over centuries. Even her words in the modern Rrerorian or Imperial tongues rarely developed into coherent sentences. She mustered with effort, as a plow tears soil, to me, once she saw, “I'm cold. I’m so cold.” So she kept repeating. I took off a great gourd and took off the loose cork, letting water down into a pot, wetting a piece of cloth, and preparing it upon her.
A fever was particularly horrid for a sweat-less idol such as the one she possessed. She protested this, “I’m cold, I’m cold! I don’t want more. I don’t.” But I soothed her, patted her and said, “My goddess, it’s alright. It’s alright. See? It provides the slightest of reliefs, doesn’t it?” She only grumbled.
It took roughly half an hour or so for help to arrive, during which time I slowly made sure to attempt to calm her, even singing to her a lowly tune as that appeared to calm her. I greeted the older woman, “greetings, I am so glad you’ve come to help.” She looked at the deity, “This the goddess? She looks so…”
I attempted to guess the possible word, “Sickly? Weak?” She settled for, “Vulnerable.” And so began our work. I will not serenade my future self with the events of that most wretched night, so similar to all the other most wretched nights I’ve encountered. Although I do feel the need to record that brief moment of simultaneous lucidity and hysteria, wherein she said, “It burns, it cuts, I see, I see!” She snapped at us, “Do not try to calm me, for I am calm! This disgusting abomination I helped bring to this world-It is toying with me! It wishes to torture for deeds, those I do not regret! Wretched, wretched!” Eventually she calmed herself, and further fell into some auditory hallucinations.
I eventually let the older woman go to sleep, a younger man aiding the rest of the four hours between sunrise before he too left. We slept intermittently-and I thank my brotherhood for their brief yet useful mentat-training that I managed to go to sleep upon command and was able to deal with such an intermittent schedule.
She stabilized some hour or two after sunrise, finally regaining greater control of herself, exhaustion overtaking her. Which I suppose is the cause of her mad if weak movements and words. I paid some child with a few cigars, wrapped up in tobacco of decent enough quality to watch her as I fetched the prefect.
…
The god was most displeased. I don’t think it was at us, less a singular bullet and more a raging storm. Rather at himself, at the world, and above all the evil new spirit. “Most wretched!” He hissed out, “Thrice-cursed be all things.” He kicked at the walls and went to his own yard to throw stones at the fence. A strong arm, that idol of his, but not superhuman.
He did eventually calm himself, as steady as ice in the sparse, highest mountains. Steady as a mighty tree he foremost told us, “I apologize, it was unbefitting of me.” Once he had calmed himself, though, he said to us all, “Keep up the dutiful labors. Are you aware of how much her…inner condition has worsened?” I shook my head and said to him, “I am not entirely sure yet, sir. It’s not recommended to check during the times of highest fever-it can interfere with the fungal readings of the finer details. But no organs have yet failed, not entirely.”
She nodded, “I suppose.” He appeared displeased. He turned towards the prefect and said to him, “What a funny surprise eh?” He gulped down but soon continued, “To think just a week ago my greatest fear was the economic battle between the Princes and Rrerorian guild-satraps.” But it didn’t seem very funny to him, not in the least.
…
17-ryuga, 7-nolihu- The goddess' condition has been further worsening, as is evidently clear.. Even with all the might which I’ve burrowed through with the help of Jiju, she is nowhere near enough to make short work of this demonic entity. Her organs have begun to fail-keenly the liver. If it were without the other illnesses that she is beset by, just that would be enough to make death of a man or destruction of an idol in mere months at the very latest. The fever, however, has subsided and she has regained clarity of mind in most aspects. Her mood is sour; understandably so.
Little life has she left; of that I am certain. Seeing as I am scared of that Jiju Seguri, and that it is his duty to deal with the divine at the end of things, I spoke to the prefect of this. “You wish that I could tell him to…make funerary preparations?” He said as I proposed this idea to him one morning as we walked. The Sun, that bright mass of mindless fire, floated up in the sky quite pleasantly. It went to the edges of the firmament, as all flames desired to do. I nodded to the prefect and said to him, “Yes-I know we’ve all thought she was to perish soon, but I’d give her some twenty days or so, at the very latest. Beyond that-She is not surviving. Already her liver has failed.”
He nodded in understanding, and glumly said, “Not even all the power of our good god Jiju is enough, eh? A terrible thing, that new spirit.” After a moment he said to me, “The merchants have already started talking about it, spreading rumors.” My brow furrowed and I said to him, “That one which is killing Huse Napasa? Kujumanacali?”
He nodded, the prefect did. “Precisely the one,” the older man kicked a stone, and with a sense of disgust,, “I imagine those lord-magicians of theirs are most pleased about it. Their lords and doctors always acted as priest, prefect, and magistrate, for all classes, professions, and both physical and spiritual ailments. I wonder what the remaining fanatic-spirits Nepe Rilu will say of it.” I said to him, rather shook, “Those fanatic-warriors have always creeped me out. A most bellic god, that Culiqaque, most wretched. Theirs isn’t even really a religion; just a cluster of superstitions and magics. ”
“I’ll tell him,” the perfect finally said, “Don’t you worry, my friend.”
…
Comital Chronicles of the grand Quheptane Jiju Seguri, patron of the house of Lunupu Mijiri, composed by the Prefect of the Third Segurian settlement.
When I arrived I was faced with the deep surprise that two of the lord's daughters, one Suguru Gire and Nine Siso had arrived, the first older by ten years than the second. Both well-made young human women, without physical defect or plague of any kind. As soon as the Lord saw me he greeted me and said, with a sense of unordinary joy in his voice, considering his gloominess of late, “Prefect, It’s been a while since you’ve seen my daughters. Come; they were able to make a visit to Huse Napasa in time.”
My nervousness fell off slightly, and I greeted both of them with a handshake. “A pleasure to see you two again. You’ve grown a fair amount since the last time I saw you, eh, Nine Siso? I hope both of you find yourselves in good health.” They both nodded, with Siso eagerly and politely saying, “ Ah, Peminepo sir! Of course, of course.” I will admit my mind wandered from my original reason for coming and I said to her, “Do you keep that old bone I gave you to remember me by?” And she took it out, a small finger bone I stripped from a cadaver. I was of low rank, I kept bone but not the shimmering armor. Only five months since we saw each other; but lengthy five months. We’re seeing each other less now that she is older, more with teachers and siblings than with her father and his followers.
She also palmed in my hand a necklace of a few shimmering teeth, usually white and well-maintained for this archcuchies standards, and smiling with some juvenile smugness she said to me, “I’ve been doing some collecting too; Me and Gire participated in the preparations before the Siege of Jiguhi,” She explained to me in rather graphic detail the funerary rights-if they could be called that, of the corpse found after a skirmish, multiple parts only barely held together with sinew. Mentats many duties pertained primarily to bureaucracy and war. “I don’t truly know who it was,” she told me, “But his cell-remains betrayed grand nobility.”
Gire interjected, in a more reserved manner,, “It was a rather nifty find. Good trophy; I decided to let her keep a vertebrae. She’s performed well the last two years; in mystic practice and law, one day soon she’ll be a grand Mentat. She’s just barely sixteen now,and what she’s done for that age is sufficiently commendable. We brought another vertebra to give to Huse napsa; to at least lay her with once her idol's bones enter an altar..” I began to talk myself, eagerly serenading the lot, “Ah yes, when I was a young lad I partook in such activities. Once all you professional Mentats had finished neutralizing the brain-matter and flesh-memories, it was most jolly and eager to take fingers, teeth and armor from the fallen, even if they weren’t good for eating anymore. Now, during the Culiqaquist purges, those too-” It was the right of the victors, was it not, to take from the fallen the bones and the armor? Vertebras and other inner bones were usually once taken from more high-end warriors, torn to pieces and their bones partitioned and gambled.
Jiju Seguri at those moments, however, did say to me, “I believe you had something to tell however, my good Prefect.” I approached the god as soon as I could and said to him, with a lion's share of embarrassment and gut-wrenching fear, “My Lord…I’ve something to tell you about Huse Napasa’s state. Forgive me for not telling you as soon as I arrived.” I saw him so impercitively clench some muscles in his hands, only due to my minor training in some Mentat techniques. He instructed me with quickness in his voice, “Say it aloud; The two of them deserve to know the latest news.”
After only minutes of consideration, I nodded and said to all present, “Ah, very well. The matter is-” I pursed my lips for a second, this was far from the first time I was forced to give terrible news. But it never does get easy, “The matter is Huse Napasa is extremely unwell. Our Lumenian Priest-doctor tells us her liver has failed; he gives only some twenty days if all goes perfectly. Which we know it hasn’t in the past.”
Something we both knew was quite unlikely. The eldest of the two frowned and said, perhaps wishing to calm her father, “That’s a strong declaration for him to make. Are we to trust his judgment? Huse Napsa has a high degree of power.” The youngest of two mentioned, “The Lemnian order-school of medicine isn’t well-established in the area. You wrote he came only four months ago, are you-” But our god shook his head, with kindness and firmness woven into his sweeping words, “No-It is clear to see, and the young man has served this settlement well in the short time. He is his uncle's nephew, that is clear by his blood’s taste. ” Not much of a surgeon, but in other aspects he was quite good.
Jiju appeared to brighten up at that point, if only ever so slightly. I suppose it was for his kin’s sake, it’s curious how gods and spirits can care for beasts and men, grow to act like them, when in fleshy nature they are so alien, “Well, while we still have time let us visit that old goddess, eh?”
…
The goddess was tired, that was evidently clear even to me in the most absolute sense. Jiju Seguri said to her, with eagerness in his voice, “I’ve brought a surprise.” She chuckled when she saw the two of them, although her tone was impossible to discern from the heavy rasping sounds, “How shameful it is that I force you two to behold me in such a state. I remember when I took care of Gigo Rrere as his spawn ate him alive, slowly before Nolina held the final blow! This is much like that, I think, but faster for I am much less. Still; I am glad you’ve come.”
Siso appeared uncharacteristically shook, and asked her, in a weak and soft tone, as though handling something which might at any moment break, “Who’s done such a horrible thing to you?” Any doubt about the terribly dire state of her situation vanished. The priest-doctor noticed her reaction, and asked, “I imagine she’s one of the Mentat-children of yours, my Lord?” The heightening of senses appeared to him to be both focused and strong. Jiju nodded,“Aye,” Gire whispered to him, “She’s got more aptitude for it than even me, in body and mind. Still working on some finer details.” Changing topic to the more pressing and unpleasant issue, “Aye, Father was sparse on the details. It’s …a different thing to actively see you like this, aunt Napasa.”
The wretched goddess let out a wheezing, honking chuckle and said to them, “My mind is so wrangled up I can’t even properly remember the names. But it was some Culiqaquist god and some necromancer, that’s what it was. One came over from the north or south lands-I think the Culiqaquist. My own damn fault, I should’ve-” she paused for a moment, to let out throat mucus, “I should’ve seen through it all! Ungrateful folk, those people of mine.”
The god said, with iron in his voice, “We’ll get back at them, we’ll get back at them. That I promise you.” Nine Siso approached the goddesses' idol, stroking its feathered head and body. She appeared gripped by the wild spirits of sadness and fear, though she kept tight control of them, “What a terrible parasite to our society. It’s alright, though, Huse Napasa, the Welcome Hit. We’ll all work on destroying it-I’ll become a full-fledged Mentat soon enough! I’ll help too, and Father won’t let you go unavenged. The Leagues and Senates will move.”
“That’s a good lad,” Huse Napsa let out between rasped breaths, “We’ll need everyone putting in their part.” She appeared tired once more, “I get tired much too soon.” Jiju Seguri looked on with sadness.
…
They would end up staying there for several hours, I am told, as I had scheduled counseling with some folks in a family here. And I had to organize the next speech, the higher ups schedule for moral betterment of the peoples needed to be upheld. The real important thing wouldn’t happen as the lot of them went to great lengths to make things comfortable for the goddess, but after.
Some hour or so after sunset, it occurred as I worked under the light of a cheap Stover-Oil lamp. Inefficient, yes, in total calories, but cheap nonetheless. My door was knocked, and the young man Roju, the Lumenian healer of the town some twenty-six years of age, said, “Would you care to give me the keys to the temple-warehouse?” He said to me in between ragged breaths, as someone who’s run, “The goddess has reached a worse point in her health. It is urgent; she is most unwell! I only ever keep some resources in my dwelling, and it’s run out.” I said to him, “I can’t sleep at any rate; I’ll accompany you. See if I can be of any help, I always was one to help my mother when my siblings got sick. Too did I help in my youthful army-days.”
After a moment he nodded. We didn’t encounter much trouble from the landless vagrants; they were far lesser in number since the leader had been disappeared by Seguri Jiju. If only the Culiqaquist lies could be so easily quelled! Those that remained, as part of their silly protest, were nowhere near as violent as before. I didn’t quite like the ease with which that dragon slaughtered her own people; but I suppose it eventually bore its fruit.
The goddess was indeed most sickly and wretched. Her breathing was ragged and honking, she was warm and shivering to the touch. Were her idol human it would most certainly sweated in sweeping rivers across skin. Her voice was weak, and she kept yammering about things which didn’t exist, as though some ghostly, mistlike invisible figure paced as the soft winds across the room. All empty hallucinations, unknown whether they were caused by the heat or pre-programmed into the Solihu. I give my honest thoughts, even as she begins to stabilize as I write this in the morning; I think she’ll be lucky to last for two days, rather than twenty.
…
Journal of Nesi Roju, loyal priest-doctor of Lumu Peneme.
Exactly at sunrise proper there came the god Jiju and his daughters, I heard only some grumblings, “That old Prefect should’ve told me as soon as it occurred!” and his daughters thereafter calming him with honey-sweet words. Seeing them in the morning light; those two young women do bear some resemblance to him. It is in the nose I think, although it seems they take more after their mother. I suppose at least; seeing as they resemble each other more than their father. I made a reverence towards the mighty deity, before he said, “We came to greet my good friend and sworn sister, and lift her spirits.” I nodded but told them, “She’s awfully weak, but the shivering has halted somewhat.”
Upon seeing her both of their faces contorted wax-like into forms of concern, smelling the putrid rot of the goddess even more heavily than I did. The body itself had a good deal of death to it, but the spirit of a deity makes specific smells when it perishes. Old creature-instinct preserved through the ages. It is that which is most terrible to Mentats, fellow-gods and even dabblers like myself.
The great god Jiju came close to the goddess and patted her great snout, her soft feathers, and let fly words which genty and repeatedly flew to her, “I am here.” Too wracked by fearsome, biting exhaustion and pain, that once mighty goddess remained with him. Some soft tunes reputed to hold medical properties due to mathematical proportions were sung, and their beauty filled the air like a grand cloud of glorious birds.
It is hard to describe the immediate period of time, for it all melds together. Eventually the great god Jiju left, the following words with fiercesomeness clawing out, “Couldn’t bear to see so good and mighty friend in such pain for much longer.” Both of them had pinpointed how close the spirit of the foreign god was to the heart and lungs. With him went his eldest daughter, while his youngest remained. I will say; I think I understand some as to why the Prefects make a separation between Mentats and those who know some of their techniques, as a Mathematician and one who only knows to count and multiply. But I will continue with the way it is done in my hometown.
She read a little to the goddess, though I am unsure if she even heard it. She commented to me, once the goddess had finally fallen to a deep and quivering sleep, “ She finally rests. She smells sickly. Awfully so.” I nodded to that with much sadness, “Even a victim of Leprosy wouldn’t be quite so damaged.” She asked me, and I sensed the undercurrent of fear, “How much time would you give her?” And I grimly responded to her, “The answer isn’t pleasant, M’lady.”
She looked at me with steely eyes, and retorted without anger, “I know, but I never do like being left with doubt. I think it’s a plague of its own.” I nodded, only vaguely understanding such an alien sentiment, “If the spirit is to remain quiet, she may last for a week. I revise my earlier diagnosis, give or take a few days. But with how aggressive and incredibly powerful it’s been…I doubt so.” She soon said with a sense of wretched awe, as one beholding a man-eating beast, “It’s a princely kind of god. It seems Qejonu’s death has not brought peace.”
I nodded for my own part, bitter, “The Electors jump at any chances to tear each other. Those wretched Neighbor-kings are all too happy to comply.” She commented too, “Just as we are when fighting breaks in their land. It seems to be our turn.” Emperorship had been maintained for some decades now, but not without issue. She commented to me after a moment, so as to break the heavy cloth of silence that had descended over us, “You know, I never knew Huse Napasa much. I saw her, sometimes every other week, sometimes not in a whole six months. She was a wild thing. But…I feel empty, knowing I’ll never see her again. I never thought death would come for her too.”
I said to her, winged words freely flying, “I understand what you mean. It's a sad thing to see good folks die, it is fearful to see a god die.” After some moments, she said to me, “Father will be devastated when she does die. At least I can tell him she is free from the pain, for now.” And thus, like some galloping wind she was gone from that room.
Sometimes I think, Heretical though it may be, that the old Pagan views of the souls of things and of the dead have some truth to it. I heard from our Prefect that when she told her father, “I come with good news! The goddess has fallen asleep, she is free from pain now.” And her father reported, divine but with exhaustion and tremendous heaps of heavy sadness, “She is free from pain forever. A tiff of vanilla just reached my nose; Everytime someone I love dies, when Gigo Rrere himself dies, I get that accursed smell. She may simply be asleep now; but I am certain she won’t ever wake up.”
She remained alive for multiple hours indeed, but never again did she wake. Life slowly left her, the last of it that remained within her being. How he knew that, I know not. He is not a god of medicine, and even I couldn't tell if she would rise again, as she has before, or finally perish. There was not one thing to mark it, particularly not at that time. The most strange thing.
…
Comital Chronicles of the grand Count Nariri Siumi, son of Qeheptane Jiju Seguri, patron of their house of Lunupu Mijiri, composed by Mentat Suguru Gire
“It is a shame I couldn’t come,” spoke with a deep voice Count Nariri Siumi, “The Honorable cry” was t’s meaning, of the house of Lunupu Mjiri. “I truly would have liked to send old Huse Napasa off.” Jiju Seguri looked on, watching the funerary feast launched in her honor. It was custom in this land, even when the emperor himself died. In his Imperial Cities it was custom that the government organize a grand feast. Any who came could receive their fair share.
“It is alright,” he said to his son, “There are many who’ve died on me, who have not the chance to be sent off by anyone at all. One moment they are here; the next they are not. Do not feel guilty, son of mine.” The count nodded, recognizing the truth in such words. They were at the minor ducal city-more a large, walled Industrial town, really- some five thousand adults in total when counting the surrounding suburban hamlets. It was named after its founder Gigo Rrere, who had over a dozen large, walled towns and cities named after him. One of the more distant ones even had rumors with Necromancy, commissioned by a member of the oligarchic family. This settlement was the site of the largest temple to Huse Napasa still active. She was but one of over three dozen deities given tribute; but it was the greatest she had.
He looked at the pale bones of Huse Napsa, placed alongside the other animal-idols she’d possessed in a sacred altar within the temple. “One last thing the Culiqaquists took from Huse Napsa,” said he, with much bitterness in the divine one’s voice, “We can’t even eat her flesh to send her off, take her ingrained genes and what is left of her fungal memory-flesh. Denied to him is the ancient custom and right for gods to do to mortals and to other gods.” Only the Culiqaquists allowed mortals devour flesh of their dead, outside of sacrifices where only their wretched God and his sons could feed. The Count nodded, but his spirit desired flowing movement to other topics.
“What shall we do? Already I hear rumors of a Messiah in the countryside. We hear he hanged himself on a cross. We hear he has gathered bands of men. We hear he already has more than one Idol.” And for a while did the great god look upon it, the skull of the last human and animal idols his sworn sister had worn, once more. “I remember when that last idol of hers was possessed by her spirit; I remember when her last human idol was torn with clubs and with stones to shreds. She swore she wouldn’t rest until her folk were pushed back into the right path, forever cursed Sini Naqihu.”
He looked at his son, and with iron in his voice said “We ought to do many things; It is easier to say what we can’t do. We can’t stand idle. We can’t let her death go unavenged. We can't allow this terrible plague to spread. The Culiqaquists are a cockroach of the mind, their religion a fatal, rabid disease. Putting them down is a mercy; that we have always known. We can’t allow them to grow and spread-she is but the first of their victims. Who knows how many gods and men will die to that new Princely zealot-god?” His son eventually nodded, slow and heavy.“Who can say?” His son acquiesced, “But I will be by your side.”
And the god nodded and smiled at that, joy coursing through him
