Bey Kahn
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Post by Bey Kahn on Jun 20, 2021 11:21:20 GMT -8
It was hard to describe the valley of the dead because as it so happened, the afterlife was open to interpretation, every species and person perceiving it somewhat different than one another. An object or structure might appear to be just over the crest of the next hill, only for it to take fathomless years to approach. In other cases something might appear far, yet takes no more than a minute to arrive at. These were the sort of pitfalls of the valley. You couldn't necessarily believe everything you experienced. You couldn't trust your senses. Applying the scientific rules that governed the greater universe here simply would not work. But that's okay, time wasn't a factor anymore. He'd spend eons, if that was what it took, to find the Pale Spear.
Greer's jowls were dry, the mucous on his snout crusty and flaking off. All he could taste was ash.
"If this is the afterlife the shamans promised, there ought to be more ale. And big breasted sows. What a disappointment." He snorted in Gamorrese, already disillusioned with limbo.
Hell, he'd settle for an enemy to kill. Even if he had to use his own hands. Nothing like a good throttling to get the blood pumping.
The old boar took a knee and examined the earth. There was a yellowed skull half buried in the ground. He dug away at the dirt with a hard nailed finger, unburying the object. He took the skull in hand and squeezed, surprised when it crumbled into dust in his hands with a quick snap. Death didn't necessarily mean eternity then, or at least, invulnerability. The afterlife could be a cruel place to the weak. He assured himself he would not succumb to despair here. If this was to be his existence, he would thrive, not just survive. Whatever it takes to keep his bones from turning into the dust that now ran through his fingers like grains of sand in an hourglass.
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Bey Kahn
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Post by Bey Kahn on Jun 23, 2021 5:20:36 GMT -8
The passage of time was unclear. There was no sense of night or day so one simply could not rely on the standard methods of calculating how long he had been here. He knew it was a while though, for the Valley revealed the mysteries of the living world to those that had moved beyond it. In pools of water, piss, and blood he saw visions of the universe.
On Pzob he saw his son, Bey, raised by the metal man who had pierced his heart with a shard of sharpened steel. The scene changed as he watched, showing one moment in time before jumping to the next. Before he knew it his young boy was now a man, trained in the warrior arts of the clan and in the ways of the metal man. He then saw his clan decimated by some calamity he couldn't quite comprehend. The sky was blotted out by a monstrosity from the heavens that reigned fire down on their ancestral home, wiping it from the map. Some of the survivors were taken, the remaining others were scattered. Of his son there was limited visions. He saw Bey somehow leave their world and travel the stars, growing larger in size and grey around the tusk. His boy had become a man, then an old man, and then...nothing. Not dead, just not complete. His story wasn't finished yet.
It wasn't all bad. As he saw his people destroyed, he was joined by their number in the Valley. At first he encountered a boar that had served under him during his time as warlord, then another that had served the warlord before him. Those he had known in life had joined him in death. Their ranks swelled, forming a new clan in the afterlife. Clan Murtog hadn't simply died. It had transcended life.
Before long they were a small war band of a dozen boars. Yet there were more out there, lost to him because he had lost his connection to the clan. He needed the Pale Spear. It was an item of power that could connect him to the warlords of old, the strongest of his people. He needed to find it...and then they would become legion.
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Bey Kahn
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Post by Bey Kahn on Jun 24, 2021 5:28:03 GMT -8
Sows came with time. Greer Kahn began to see the gatherers of his clan, those who had passed away before his untimely demise and those that had succumb whatever calamity had befallen Clan Murtog after he was already gone. He had asked them about those events but even for those that had been present at the time, the description of what befell his people was difficult to imagine. It sounded like a scene out of one of their religious texts about the end times. The dead warlord didn't spend much time thinking on this. He still had a mission.
Now that the Clan's sows had joined him in the Valley for eternity, industry came next. The gatherers and weavers had strung together a seat for the warlord. It was crafted from the skulls and sinews of the fallen. It had taken...actually elaborating on how long it took was as pointless as trying to figure out if it was day or night. Suffice it to say it felt like it had taken some time to gather all the materials for his seat. Boars returned to the makeshift camp set up in the valley, bringing bodies and defeated spirits with them. All these were bound together to form what really constituted a throne.
Greer sat on his throne, constantly tensing his hands and cracking his knuckles. His palms felt naked without the Pale Spear in his grip, yet he refused to take up another weapon from the discard pile that was forming, unwilling to settle for anything less the Clan's sacred relic.
"Find it." Every day he ordered his boars out into the Valley. "Find it and bring it to me. However long it takes..."
And time it would take.
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Bey Kahn
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Post by Bey Kahn on Jun 29, 2021 5:32:21 GMT -8
Location: Valley of the Dead - Clan Murtog encampment
Greer Kahn found that death became him. He had excelled as a warlord of his clan in life, his death at the hands of an outsider aside, but he had always been limited by the needs of the flesh. After all, he came from a hunter/gatherer culture. Food and fresh water had always been foremost on their minds. Yet in the realm beyond the flesh, that no longer matter. Any food they found here seem to turn to ash in their mouths, disintegrating into nothingness the moment it touched their tusks. Despite this, he never felt the pangs of hunger. None of the dead Gamorreans did. The act of trying to eat was just a habit they had not yet rid themselves of. He sneered. In life they had fought with other clans over resources, to grow and to prosper. In death, they needed no such things. Now warfare could be enjoyed for what it truly was...
Sport.
Big breasted Gamorrean sows lined the path out of the encampment with the skulls of the fallen. There were so many that they never worried about running out of building supplies. While the Valley might be lacking in sustenance, it never seemed short on the remains of the departed. His hunters, thick bellied boars he had known in life, set off on these bone paths. They would return in time with whatever spoils the Valley provided.
They were growing; indeed, they were as large as Greer Kahn remembered Clan Murtog to be in life. Still a small community, but enough of a threat to the more hostile spirits in the Valley. It was all for naught; however, as the one thing he craved more than anything else still eluded him. It had to be here somewhere.
He could feel it in his bones.
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Bey Kahn
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Posts: 172
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Post by Bey Kahn on Jul 2, 2021 5:37:15 GMT -8
It came as some surprise when one of Greer Kahn's scouts returned to the Gamorrean encampment in the valley with news of the white gate.
Greer Kahn sat on his skull throne, leaning forwards and gripping the arms of the yellowed seat, which ironically were made from leg bones. He listened intently as the boar relayed what he had witnessed out in the wasteland that was the valley. Apparently the scout had come across a giant polished marble portal, as tall as an ATAT walker and as wide as Villa's mum. If the scout was to be believed a brilliant light that seemed to warm the skin and project an aura of calm and joy emanated from the gateway. The dead warlord listened to all the scout had to say, scoffing in disbelief.
He would need to see this gate for himself.
"Prepare my palanquin." He growled an order to his clan.
There was no telling what the gate meant, but Greer Kahn had a theory of his own. This realm made little enough sense, up was down and time was infinite. What if this white gate was a portal into another non-sensiscal realm? Perhaps somewhere nicer. More importantly, maybe the item he sought had made its way there, assuming one could actually pass through said portal.
There was only one way to find out.
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Bey Kahn
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Post by Bey Kahn on Jul 3, 2021 5:51:58 GMT -8
Location: Valley of the Dead - The White Gate
And so a palanquin of bone was raised to carry the warlord of Clan Murtog to the white gate. Six heavyset boars carried the arms of the palanquin on their green muscular shoulders. Greer Kahn reclined in his seat at the top, barely acknowledging the surrounding area with a glance. It's not like there was much to see anyways. Just the remains of the fallen and the wandering spirits of the eternal dead. The old boar reached into his furry britches and withdrew a mummified finger he had busted off a corpse during his first journey into these unusual realms. He brought the finger to his thick lips and bit down on it, chewing off a dried fingernail, then spitting it down into the dirt. Then the end ignited, as though the spirits of the Valley sensed his intended purpose. Greer smoked the mummified finger like a fat cigar, puffing out rich smoke from between his tusks.
The procession came to a stop before the white gate. It was tall and wide, large enough for an army to cross through, yet still not as wide as Villa's mum. From what he could tell the frame appeared to be made from smooth marble, polished to a near-reflective sheen. As for the gateway itself, it consisted of a brilliant white light that hurt his eyes when he looked at it for too long.
"Down." He snorted to his palanquin bearers.
Greer was lowered to the ground. He stood up from his throne and walked down towards the White Gate, peering into its depths. Then with little adieu, he bent down and scooped up a rock from the ground.
"Let's see what this does." And with that he threw the rock into the White Gate and watched it disappear from sight.
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Bey Kahn
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Do you smell something burning?
Posts: 172
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Post by Bey Kahn on Jul 7, 2021 8:22:50 GMT -8
Location: Valley of the Dead - The White Gate
"Huh."
Greer Kahn stood before the gate, scratching his head.
The rock he had thrown through the gate seemed to miraculously vanish as its passed through, presumably to the other side. Where that side actually was...who could say. Some more investigating was prudent. Under normal circumstances he would have sent a scout through the gate next; it wasn't like he was short on boars to sacrifice. But these were far from normal circumstances. He was already dead, after all, so he needn't fear danger or death, right? Right?
"What's the worst that could happen?" He snorted.
And without saying another word, Greer Kahn stepped forwards and walked through the white gate, vanishing from sight.
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Post by Mictēcacihuātl on Aug 3, 2021 17:12:03 GMT -8
A mammoth figure, Mictectecacihuatl wandered the Valley of the Dead. Bloodied battle fields littered with shields and weapons and lost souls of the dead moved her not. Not for even the most brave or foolhardy challenge her; rather they parted way allowing her, the wife of Mictlantecutli most wide breth to move as she searched for her husband
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Post by Brigid Dubh on Aug 10, 2021 17:23:44 GMT -8
A fleeting cloud of white smoke materialised then was gone and there she was. A spear sailed by but an inch scarce of taking off the top of her head. What an odd place, so she thought. And on she walked into the future where no future exited
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Post by Brigid Dubh on Sept 13, 2021 20:20:33 GMT -8
Having roamed this bizarre place for days the girl was quite lost. Everybody here in this surreal battleground were seemingly bent on dispatching foes. But they were all, to the best of her knowledge, already dead. Rather redundant. And sad on so many levels. One lost soul stopping her took the girls arms in her own tender hands and spoke -Sekhmet- "I want to heal them. It is what I do! What is wrong here?" Brigid was struck by the women's complete lack of understanding about not only where she was but indeed what she was. Now. So slow and soft she explained -Brigid- "They're all dead. Honey. I am dead." Her own hands now holding the other woman's, Brigid caught her eyes with her own -Brigid- "You are dead." She waited for a good long time but the woman for not respond . Not did she breakdown. After some time letting go with left hand she held her grasp of the woman's hand in her right. Walking onward they talked. Slowly the woman came around. And together they crossed through this cruel valley
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