Sertha

ID: C.TC.2.008



Name: Na'sat Calamidy
Alias: The Pretend Angel / The Allstriking Goddess
Race: ???
Status: Long Dead
Gender: She/her
Height: Unknown
Weight: Unknown
Age: Unknown
Home Region: Far above the clouds.

Affiliation: Unknown
Occupation: Lunatic
Mate(s): Unknown
Descendants: Unknown
Ascendants: Unknown


The Allstriking

Remiel Helma


Overview


The Remiel Helma, The Allstriking Goddess. A thing from higher sphere delivered. She said it to be true so who are we to doubt? For she is the Remiel! A warped Sol-chroto bearing too many eyes. Three ears listen to all thoughts and disallow privacy. Three wings to fly high and oversee all. Her hearts so pure her body “walks” weightless. Those divine feet never touching the filth of the ground. With a wave of the hand Remiel Helma would summon storms and with a crack of the tail send lightning to hail. Each wingbeat an individual thunderclap almighty.

Remiel Helma led those lost souls up above the ground. Bading them sell their souls to her in return for ingenuine truth. They sold themselves for immediate profit- rather than work for what they wished to earn. In pursuit of truth from an angel they gave her everything. And in turn they fought her war against The First Citadels. If they refused she would take them away, sequester them somewhere else. A contingency plan.

Unstable and violent, the early era was spent terrorizing anyone. Be it the sable’sa of which she ended one of their races. Or the dragomii. A lunatic up until her first death. Slain at the hands of Na’sat Calamidy. Losing the battle of Heaven and Hell. Her body fed to all those within the fort Tàrʐzö-malrnràö.



My Name shall Sing, A thousand years after shall you be my plaything!


It would be just before The Black Crusade, not quite a thousand years as was her decree, but alas The Remiel would return. While nowhere close to her former self, warped and twisted yet bearing those damn eyes. Mahken had started to retreat a thousand years before her aberration was discovered. Perhaps that is what she meant. The twins, now long long freed. Had been tasked with understanding just what the hell was going on. Why was all mahken, tamed, wild, and feral fleeing? The answer was the resurrection of The Remiel Helma. Slumbering in Northern Conferus.

Monstrous and warped. Sleeping in a cradle of crystal and star fall debris. The battle that followed was long and legendary. A siege of which Onyx had to ask Conferus for dire assistance. With an emergency army raised they continued the long siege. Completely taken by the apocalypse waiting to happen neither party was there to stop the rise of evil deep in the Arkhainian heartlands.

Even as this new formed was razed and defeated. Slain but not without remedy; did a curse form. The Whisper of The Pretender. Those afflicted may grow wings bearing eyes, hear the voice of the Remiel, have their sin absolved. Others may become stuck. Unable to die after becoming the sole survivor of a group of many. Their eyes changing to colors of purple and blueish teal. Only able to finally die if an Ascendant or Servant of The Wheel gets to them.




More to Be Added

Genetic Information

Fur: ???
Traits: ???
Genotype: ???
Phenotype: ???

Lineage:
------------------------------------------DRR1: Unknown
-----------------DR1: Unknown
------------------------------------------AR2: Unknown
Dominant Parent: Unknown
------------------------------------------DRR3: Unknown
-----------------A2: Unknown
------------------------------------------AR4: Unknown
------------------------------------------DRR5: Unknown
----------------- DR3: Unknown
------------------------------------------AR6: Unknown
Parent 2: Unknown
------------------------------------------DRR7: Unknown
-----------------A4: Unknown
------------------------------------------AR8: Unknown

Design by: Agruleus


The Wyrm Note

Letter from an unknown scholar, addressed to "The Allshattering" Calamity of years past after the slaying of "The Allstriking". Dated 'The Strike to Shatter Stars and Bring Forth The End of Chitins Rike'-TC. Released to the masses sometime in the latter eras within the Tasismarrian Calendar. Known as 'The Wyrm Note'

"The Allshattering, may this answer to thy request find thee in due time. You were right to question the land and its formation. Whilst Ardent remains... compromised, after unforeseen contact- (Rest of sentence has been omitted. Inquires for further information are either denied or answered with disrespectfully vague statements). We have no longer pursued an answer from her and unless this damage can be reversed, will no longer rely on her for history.

The other sister however brutish and difficult has been forced to yield answer. And from recovered achieves we found an answer. The Sable'sa have been to our moons and most intriguingly, the sister planet Alaterous. Information upon all three divine moons is scarce, but Alaterous? My my, you were correct Allshattering. Land formation and masses are off, alien, and correct. Unlike ours.

Cross referenced with the rest of the archives material it is clear to see our science was infact not incorrect- The numbers did not match up and it was no fault of our scientists. We are the anomaly- Our world, our planet, is infeasible. Or rather 'impossible'- though bias fills my hearts at those words. As to whether or not this relates to-

(The next three pages of the Wyrm Note have never been released and remain a myth)

Then I would have to say yes. It is... a disquieting notion. Perhaps in our haste we have dug ourselves into a grave. Further collaborations with the Sable'sa are impossible for obvious reasons. Despite how you cleaned up that frothing excuse for a deity! If we had the power and garrison I would request we further lash those bugs into submission for these heretical insults. Find whatever gods they still think to pray too and pry the meat off their bones and devour them whole once more but I digress.

Thirteen stations is what we here at Tàrʐzö-malrnràö recommend. We must disallow them to wake at any cost. In overthrowing the insects and claiming the crown do we also take that burden of responsibility. Thirteen stations to monitor and ensure they stay in deep slumber. The hegemony forming under your divine guidance would serve a wonderous surrogate for such designs.

More study is desperately needed if we are to understand the threat snoring right under our feet. Those caverns and the darklight whilst lacking direct evidence must surely be related. You know what wyrms do. What mahken does. And I think we both know of that rumor. The thirteen.

May thy Hunt be Few, and thy Prey Many"

'Noted.'


Five to a table


“It is I! I who should be The Autarch Above Them All!”

“I find thine decree ludicrous."

The Pretend Angel lifted her scroll. Shaking it free of its binds and watching the paper spill. A thousand names and manner more scrawled in blood across the page. The Remiel shook her head with tongue obscenely protruded. Gloating in a victory she deemed she won.

“I will be the Autarch! I have them bound to me! I OWN them”

“And who are you to me? To them? To the world you thinketh thee above?”

The Na’sat spoke with conviction. Both hands splayed across the ebony table. Red eyes fixed upon The Remiel. Snorting as the thing across from her shuffled all of its six wings. Leering down The Remiel sneer turned to a manic cackle;

Minus one to seven!

“Speak plain Angel o’r Pretend!”

Yet the Pretend Angel was unable to clarify. Sanity stolen by rolling heights of lunacy as her wings flailed. The eyes darting about with frantic intent. The Sable beside Calamity gave a scornful look to them both. Calamity did not return it.

“Spare me thy blame, insect.

“Watch yore tongue Daemon. Or The Suns damn it we will murder the lot of you by way of ignorance. We hold what thine need. Remember that.”

The heavily scarred sable growled. And then that sable was no more. A stinging bolt of lightning accompanied by the boom of thunder signaled death. The elder keeled over to lay slain without remedy. Fingers twitching awfully as The Remiel Helma cackled with perverse glee. The other two sable’s wailed in misery. And The Na’sat knew that should this continue, no, that it shouldn’t continue. The Remiel if she grew anymore ruinous would have to be delt with.

'This was her decree.'