Nathrangking

Nice! I look forward to these discussions especially those on Genesis. When I spent a year abroad after high school I actually took the time to learn in a Yeshiva program where one of the classes that I took did a close reading of the first 20 some odd chapters of genesis. My teacher actually wrote a book of scholarship on genesis.

"Your gig is it? For a deity you have an interesting manner about you. I have known tricksters in my time, but this is something else entirely." I turn a curious look on my face. I rise and walk over to the one who cried out. "A shadow realm? Those tend to be nasty. I have not dealt with one in more than a thousand years."

"If I had to guess, a deity of semi-moderate power was involved." I pull an apple from the air and vanish it in an unbroken motion. "Weaving a fresh pocket is no small feat call me impressed."

Nath is pulled away from his examination by a voice. It was clear he had forgotten to obscure his words and for a moment he became deeply annoyed. None of this flowed into his face or words. "I suppose. Mindscapes are fickle and difficult things. To construct one of this detail necessarily requires great power coupled with a deep understanding of dimensional metaphysics and the languages of creation."

Nath looks up and gazes around. "Curious." He murmurs. "The mindscape is stable and others flow in and out without challenge. The builder knew what they were doing." Nath vanishes his scroll and begins to gaze beyond the details at the mindscape's seams.

Never!! The person below me is on team Todium

Nath looks up from his reading impassively for a moment and then returns to the scroll.

Congrats Corvus!! Interesting how I recieved no summons, but no matter.

Why do I do it? Once every couple of months I ask myself this question. I feel like I'm a charlatan and an imposter. Why do I write? Why not quit and delete my work. It would be so simple to remove all traces and stop acting as though I have any skill whatsoever. As usual rejection is what brought this on. I had a real chance to break out into the world with my work. Last night it was slapped aside as not good enough. My heart and soul once again rent and torn. Is the pain worth it? Why subject myself to constantly being told what I have long suspected? All I have to do is stop and hit delete. The world will never know what it is going to miss. I doubt that it would even miss it in any case. If I'm truly as incapable as it seems then the world will never know my work anyway. The knife just carves out my heart. I want to believe that I'm capable, but its so hard. One friend called me the most creative person he knows. For all the good it does me. I apologize for my rant as usual. This last rejection really got under my skin and hurt.

A scroll drops through the air as my mindscape allows it to pass between realities. It falls into my lap and I begin to read.

Nath's eyes rove about the room. Dense air gathers about him as light floats about him.

Tick Tock Loud gears make music. Rhythmic images split the air. A grandfather clock.

Remembrance of Hues Creatures shatter the walls of onyx that surround the halls of mortal thought and the hunting grounds of vengeful deities. Blazing pillars that bend in shadow bear bestial busts upon their crowns. They stare hungrily out upon the realm piercing city walls and invading the calm of the land of Hypnos. Mountains, forests, valleys, and glens branded with power beyond the skill of even the imaginations of terrestrial souls hide hunters that stalk the realm. Taut silence consumes any who would venture into this profanely sacred place. Boar legged men and women whose serpentine eyes and leonine heads carry the tools of rage that pacify worlds. Blades drip with the blood of fallen myriad and drown regions that are now forever fallow. Shattered armies who are prostrated before temples aflame speak no more forbidden blasphemies. Bread resides now in the realm of the divine and no longer in the realm of those who can end. Dawn approaches with its blinding light and instantly dispels the most vile of shrouds. Running shadows race with the winds pushing them across accursed and demanding earth. Primordials arise and are swept aside by the power of the chariot of the rising sun. Flame washes away scars that have penetrated the heart of the world and inflicted the most twisting of agonies. Into the day all step forward to see all that they were always denied. Hues so soft bring forth orchards of cherry and golden apples as the very sun itself. Groves of emerald bursting forth in ways previously regarded as legend fill the mouths of those whose chains glitter in ruins. From their throats erupt songs that drown their jailers as they fade from where they fell. Those monsters that first removed the manacles of night are lost in mystery. Pillars once bent ascend into the aether as eyes that once saw now truly see daylight once more.

Premonition? (of my victory) From the east unforgiving tempests ascend to tower over and subjugate the fragile world of mortal flesh. Diana in her garb flees from glade to glade upon feet swift and yet in comparison to these winds hardly moving at all. The avenger is torn from the midst of battle and left broken in the depths of the dessicated sea where Chrybdis died. Jove on high calls the might of the heavens to hold fast this storm that no deity commanded. Its shackles shatter, sending forth shrapnel that spills golden blood. From below the dead tremble and cry out as though to mourn over the carnage that is even felt in the realm of those who have been damned. Plutus can hide nowhere when these storms pull his kingdom up from its very roots. Cities of humanity crumble and shout the most awful of dirges. Words that none hear spin about in air choked by the debris and ruination of every realm. Beasts who can run no further let out their final cries as they wait for this unnatural destruction to do its work. Minerva and Janus step into the heart of the splintered world as an honor guard and watch even the sisters that weave, measure, and cut the fate of all succumb to these wrathful voices. Shields form in their hands as war begins. Hypnos leans his hands out into the very soul of the spirit that struck even the most primordial beings. Everything slows for Justita. Her left hand clutches the fasces of her office and smites the destructive winds with blows that send uncontrolled tremors throughout all of reality. In her right a flame that pierces the body, mind, and spirit of time itself ignites the form of a horrific thing that has consumed the forms of both the divine and mundane. How it howls as it burns away in a maelstrom of never ending heat and eternal light. When it calms and the wreckage of so many broken realms settle the fog of divine slumber lifts from Jupiter. He wakes and gazes into the night that has just begun.

Down I say!! On the Edge Rumbling of drumming. Sweet sugar teasing the nose. Rain is on its way.

Alas, you are wrong. Crystalline Cold crimson beams dance. Up above swift soft songs fly. Quiet stains playing.

Well I am a creator of worlds!! Fear me!! Fade Out Sweetest melody. The eyes lap up gorgeous hues. Birds wake the whole world.

I win by poetry alone. Stratagem The cool winds whistle. Silent languid warmth descends. Nature's chess match.

Thankfully I have many more than 5. The Person Below Me has RP'd with both @Channelknight Fadran and @DramaQueen in the same RP!

Thankfully not. The Person Below Me has read a textbook for fun

If you are old then it's time for me to throw in the towel.

I was published again in January with the possibility of further publication soon.

Nathrangking appeared from nowhere and leans back in his chair. His light dimming to acceptable levels he surveys the room quietly.

That sucks !