User blog:SkyrimsShillelagh/The Fall of Yokuda (Part 1/2)

Here is a quick piece I wrote to give some backstory to my Taneth story&world, namely the Adversary and Diagna. The character of the Empress (who you'll meet here) might be important, I don't know, we'll see. Please comment what you think, I want feedback. If any aspects of this confuse you, it might be deliberate. I'm going for a vibe of the reader not knowing much about the world, as I want to leave the setting mysterious, but also have some familarity to it. If you remember the Shehai and the Adversary from Twelve Stars (if you read that) then you might have a little bit of a better handle on some the concepts that the story is centered around.

The sun kissed the horizon as both it and the world descended into apocalypse. The sky was black, choked by ash and smoke and smog. A volcano erupted in the distance. Tsunamis crashed on the shore, wiping away homes and anyone unfortunate enough to have remained.

The land split and cracked, fissures appearing across the grand landscape as whole pieces of earth sloughed away into the ocean.

On the eastward coast a fleet of ships sat ready to make sail, rocking and bobbing in the maelstrom. They collided with one another, the ocean threatening to sink them, but they remained afloat for now. Row boats braved the treacherous waters, floating out to meet them and unload their passengers onto the fleet. A great journey would be made. The last journey of the greatest empire that had ever stood. This was the second fleet of Yokuda, the fleet of the Na-Totambu. The first, the fleet of the Ra Gada, had left months before.

The Empress of Yokuda overlooked her fleet, watched as it was buffeted by wave after wave.

Above, a light split the smoky skies, a single shooting star. It arced, growing larger, bulleting towards the Empress. She turned to face it as it landed in front of her. The light receded and in its place stood a man. He was beautiful, with features so perfect nothing less than a god could have designed him. Tall, muscular. An Orichcalcum khopesh was strapped to his back. He wore chainmail, the same viridescent metal as his sword. Blue cloth wrapped his waist and feet, a blue turban wrapped his head. He looked past her, out at the fleet that gathered in the waters below the cliff. This cove was the last safe shore on the continent. And even then, it was only marginally protected from the typhoons that buffeted Yokuda’s shores.

“Diagna.” The Empress greeted him. “I was wondering when you would make your appearance.”

The avatar of HoonDing turned his immortal gaze from the cove to the Empress. As always, the Empress found it hard to maintain eye contact with him. She felt insignificant when held by it, as if he knew everything she had ever done and everything she would ever do. It was a barren, empty feeling it brought, made you feel stripped bare, flayed before the unfeeling ebb and flow of eternity. Made you…

She looked away, heading back into her tent on the hill top. Her army was arrayed below her. Their backs were to the beaches, their weapons arrayed towards the land. The land that had once been her’s. Now it held only horrors.

“The Adversary comes, Empress.” Diagna said, following her. His voice was a song filled with metal, of swords meeting each other on the rocky sands that made up Yokuda. Beautiful and terrible all at once. “For once, it does not wait.”

“Death waits for no one.” The Empress said. She shed the royal gown, dressed in only simple, long linens, approaching the stand that held her armor. There was no point hiding herself from Diagna. He was a god. There was nothing one could hide from him. Especially him.

She grabbed a chainmail shirt of the nearby behind where it had been discarded and slipped into it. “Not for me. Not for Yokuda. Not even for gods. What the Adversary does is only hasten Entropy’s inevitable approach.”

She reached out, removing her breastplate from the stand and lowering it over her head. She glowed with the Shehai and the armor fastened itself tight. She equipped her greaves, boots, bracers, and helm in a similar manner.

“Entropy is normally patient, Empress.” Diagna explained. “He knows all things must end. That all must return to him. It is rare he takes an active interest in the affairs of mortals.”

“It’s because of this, isn’t it?” The Empress looked down at her hand, closed it into a fist. It glow gold with light as she drew from the Shehai.

“Yes.” Diagna agreed. “You and your Ansei are a threat to him. You brought Complexity into the world. Upset the balance. And as Anu’s influence grows, so does Padomey’s.”

“The universal constant.” The Empress murmured. The glow subsided. “Had I known what it would cost us, I would never have done it.”

“You couldn’t have.” Diagna said. “None of the gods did. But you ushered in a golden age, Empress. An empire of the likes which the world will never see again.”

“I have doomed my people, lord.” The Empress said. “Led them to destruction.”

“You are wrong. The Yokudans will leave in those ships. The Ra Gada have already landed in a distant land, one called Hammerfell. The clear the way for your Na-Totambu now. This will not be the end of your story. A new people will arise from this. A strong people, whose tragic past has made them unconquerable, great beyond measure. They will be as hard and unforgiving as the land they inhabit and none in the world will be their equal. You have not doomed the race of Yokuda, Empress. You have secured it’s future.”

Diagna reached out, grasped her hand. Once again, it glowed with the light of the Shehai. “Through this.”

She met his immutable gaze. “Will you fight the Adversary?” She asked.

“I will. I and the others god will descend to the plains of Akos Kasaz and battle him as Yokuda sinks, as was spoken by Satakal before he was split.”

“But you’ll die.”

“That too was spoken by Satakal.” Diagna admitted. “But it will be a noble death. And our sacrifice will be made worth it, for our people will live on.”

Outside, the last of the light leached away. The sun had set.

“It is time.” Diagna said, letting her hand go. “Come. The final battle begins.”

They exited onto the hilltop. Below, the army stirred nervously. It was nearly pitch black, the twin moons of Nirn blocked out by the smoke in the sky. Only faint light trickled through. It was barely enough to see by.

Then, on the distant horizon, there was a flash. And another. Another. More. Six lights. Eight.

A dozen in total. The lights grew bright, streaking the sky. Twelve suns broke the artificial midnight.

The army looked up, now a chorus of ooohs and aaahhhs.

The drifted over the army, clearing aside the smog and haze. Beams of moonlight broke the cover. The stars twinkled above.

The gods of Yokuda landed on the hilltop, arrayed before Diagna and the Empress.

Ius. The animal god. His left arm was that of a snake, coiled around a his weapon, an iron rod. His right leg was a lion’s, his left a horse’s. His right arm, torso, and head were a man’s, but scaly, furry, or misshapen. His skull was not shaped like that of a man, but an ape’s. He wore no clothes, but his waist was wrapped in animals hides.

Leki. The goddess of swordmanship. Tall, dark, beautiful. She as thin, but wiry with toned muscle. She wore thick leathers across her body. If one looked too closely, it almost seemed like they were made from human skin. A long-bladed scimitar graced her hip. No one had ever seen its blade. When drawn, she swung it faster than the human eye could track.

Malooc. A longtime outcast of the gods, now rejoined as they faced an ultimate threat. He was short, stubby, and more green than dark. He was more goblin than man in appearance. Rusty iron armor clung to him. He carried a massive axe in his hand, much too big for someone his size to realistically hold.

Reymon Ebonarm. The Black Knight. The God of War. Massive, impossibly so, standing at nine feet and likely a thousand pounds of muscle. He lacked a right arm. In its place was a massive sword, which scraped the ground if he held his arm straight at his side. His true appearance was unknown—black armor covered every inch of his body.

HoonDing. The Make Way God. The second greatest of the Yokudan Gods. The father and creator of Diagna. HoonDing had no other purpose than to be an unstoppable force and clear the way for his chosen people. HoonDing would always preserve. He was the rarest and most infrequently seen of the gods, only appearing in their most desperate hours. And this was their most desperate hours. He looked much like Diagna, and dressed the same as well, but appeared older and weathered.

Onsi. The Boneshaver. One could confuse him to be a man. He was built like a blacksmith. Soot stained his cheeks, but he was average in height and appearance. He wore belts of knives across his body—his waist, chest, back.

Sep. The snake. As wiry and beautiful as Leki. He carried no weapon but a dagger, and wore no armor but the simplest of rags. A permanent grin affixed his face.

Tava. The Bird God. Nearly as tall as Ebonarm, and as broad, but thin as willow. Feathers affixed the back of her neck and she had them inside of hair on her head. In the place of her arms she had wings, upon the ends of which were her hands. Her feet were talons. She had a warm, motherly face. Kind, but stern and furious at a moment’s notice. Like the ocean itself. Today, she seemed frail, weak, as the Adversary leached her power to destroy Yokuda.

Tu’whacca. An old man, bent, withered. He wore robes, a hood pulled over his head, and lent on a staff for support. It was an act. No one was as quick and long-lived as the tricky god.

Among them also stood Zeht, the farmer, and his mother, Morwha, the fertility goddess. They would not fight. They would stand apart, granting light and strength to Yokudan’s armies.

At their head stood the greatest of them all. Tall Papa. Ruptga. The chief of the gods. The first god. The one to outwit Satakal and invent immortality. The one who placed the stars in the sky, created light. The father of Zeht, of Ius, of Leki, of Ebonarm, Malooc, Sep, and Onsi. He was tall, thick through the chest, arms and shoulders. A dark beard covered his face. His brow was heavy and furrowed, his hair long, braided down to his shoulders. Once black as night, his beard and hair were now streaked with gray. He wore an Orichalcum breastplate, and beneath robes of blue and gold, the robes of a king. He wore sandals on his feet. Unlike the others, he carried no weapon. The light was his weapon. It wasn’t the Shehai, creating constructs or blades. It was the sun and the stars weaponized. Beams of heat and energy that could scald and vaporize.

The Empress took them all in. These great champions of her people. Even before the Shehai, Yokuda had been a great Empire because its gods had lived among them. When the Left-Handed Elves had attacked, Leki had led them in battle. When the Ra Gada had sailed for the east, HoonDing had sailed among them.

The Yokudans and their gods were one. Because of that they had lived in an age of gods and miracles. An age that was ending.

“Empress.” Ruptga greeted her, stepping forth. When he spoke, the sky rumbled with thunder. She immediately dropped to a knee before him, head bowed low.

“No.” The king of the gods rest a hand on her shoulder. “Not today. Today you stand with us.”

The Empress rose to her feet and Ruptga took her hand. The pantheon split down the middle, clearing the way for the pair of them.

They walked to the edge of the hill, where the army gathered below them, looking up.

“Today all of you stand with us!” Tall Papa boomed, his voice carrying to the edges of the army, as crisp as if he was standing next to each and every one of them. Lightning arced, cracked the sky, splitting the smoke. “Today all of you are gods!”

Swords rattled in their scabbards as the army’s moral swelled. It was a force composed entirely of infantry. These warriors were Ansei, Sword-Singers, users of the Shehai. Archers, cavalry, skirmishers—they were not needed. These were warriors who could summon a volley of arrows with a thought, create a steed from nothing, dart between fights like the most nimble of warriors. The army was not uniform. Each man wore the armor of his household or his kingdom. They had all come from different armies, once sworn to different lords and kings. Among them were peasants, nobles, royalty. Swordsmen and swordswomen from all different walks of life. But masters all.

They were the last line of defense between the Adversary and the fleet. There was no retreat. No escape. They would fight to the last man and then some. They knew this. And they stood here, at the edge of the world, all the same.

The army quieted and the Empress raised her voice. It carried the same as Ruptga’s head, crisp and clear.

“Death himself comes for us! Yokudan and god alike! Here we stand! To show Satakal we will not bow! That he cannot crush us!”

The Empress raised her hand, entwined with Ruptga’s, into the air.

“Death comes for us!” She repeated. “Let’s make him wait a little longer!”

The army roared, swords rattling in their scabbards, and they drew their weapons, turning once again to face the encroaching darkness. There were no officers or generals to shout orders, but they were not needed. Each warrior here knew their work, knew their duty.

“Well said, Empress.” Ruptga rumbled and they stepped apart. “Once again, you surprise me.”

“I am better than my husband was.” She told him. “As I have always maintained.”

“And we have always stood with you, Empress.” Leki said from behind the Empress. The Empress faced the rest of the gods. They were great beings, radiating power. She could feel it filling the air, setting her hairs on end, crackling like electricity. How could they possibly lose? How could the Adversary possibly defeat creatures as beautiful and exceptional as these?

“When I granted Yokuda the gift of the Shehai, I did so at your request. When Ruptga blessed you with his gift, to rule over Yokuda as an immortal, he did so at my request. But when I trusted you?” Leki said, getting eye to eye with the Empress. Her gaze was as immutable and otherworldy as Diagna’s. “When I selected you as our successor here on Nirn?” She cupped the Empress’s chin. “That was as a mother, never doubting her daughter.”

“We have stood with you, with Yokudans, since time immemorial.” Diagna said. The tall son of HoonDing, drew his khopesh off his back in a flourish. “And we will do so again and again, until the end of time. You will never shake our faith in you, so long as you do not lose your faith in us.”

“Thank you.” The Empress murmured, feeling profoundly touched by the whole experience, worried she might cry. That would be nothing short of mortifying. “All of you.”

“We are gods, Empress.” Leki said, stepping back. The others lined up alongside her. “Do not thank us for what we do willingly. Only know we do it in service to Yokuda. Now go, lead your army. We will fight the Adversary when it appears.”

The Empress looked away, shielding her eyes, as they lit up again, and took to the sky.

The hilltop grew quiet again. It, the valley below, and the cove behind both, were bright, lit by the twelve gods hovering far above.

In the distance, out beyond the edge of the light, in the black smoke that had settled over Yokuda, there was movement.

The Adversary had arrived.

Shambling, dark figures began to emerge. Walking corpses, their eyes glowing, as well as whatever wound had killed them. The dead from past battles—either battles with the Adversary, or wars the Yokudans had fought amongst themselves. Their numbers dwarfed that of the Empress’ army, and they were not the most frightening part.

Amongst these walking corpses were living shadows. Figures eight feet high, carrying swords the size of a man. Splinters of the Adversary, little pieces of its consciousness. They were strong, unnaturally so, when weapons that could cut through anything short of the Shehai itself.

The Empress watched as her army, the most elite force Yokuda had ever seen, began to look paltry and pathetic compared to what the Adversary had brought to bear.

“Ansei!” She shouted. She sprinted to the edge of the hill, the chainmail of her armor clinking, and leapt off the cliff.

She burst alight, a candle to the suns that were the gods, but bright nonetheless.

She drifted down into the center of the army, wisps of light drifting from her like the smoke that coated the sky.

“We are stronger this! We are the chosen people of Ruptga! We are the light in the darkness! The candle in the wind! We will not go out!”

The corpses began to emit other worldly shrieks, and their shambling walk turned into a lurching run as they swung their lifeless limbs about, and fell onto the army in a charge.

The Ansei exploded with light, beating back the darkness. They were a single beacon upon this valley, shining for all to see.

In the light that now filled the valley the Empress could see clear the faces of the corpses that came at them, jaws a gap, features sunken, flesh rotting or decayed entirely to bone.

She drew her scimitar and ran out forward to meet them, the rest of the force at her back, whooping and screaming for the glory of Yokuda, their voices drowning out the shrieks of the damned.

The gods gathered in the sky, forming enclaves based on their respective faiths. Despite their tenuous alliance, many of them were still enemies.

Diagna stood with Leki, his father, and Ruptga.

Diagna watched the battle unfold below him. The Ansei glowed like the fire in a stoked hearth, surrounded by perpetual darkness. Every once in a while, one of those lights winked out as a Sword-Singer made a mistake and fell to the Adversary’s forces.

“They are dying.” Diagna said. Gods did not feel for mortals. They were insignificant compared to them. One mortal life was nothing when weighted against that of a gods, when weighted against the entirety of the Yokudan race. The sum of dead here would be insignificant compared to the number of survivors headed eastward. Diagna knew this.

Then why did he feel so… guilty.

“They will all die.” Leki said. “We know this.” They also knew they were destined to die. Soon. Very soon.

“We should help her.” Diagna said, watching as the Empress faced off against one of the Adversary’s splinters. Its sword cut cleanly through her armor, biting her side, before she was able to use the Shehai to kill it.

“Easy, Diagna.” Leki warned. “Do not be blinded by your love for the mortal woman.”

“She’s your daughter.”

“Adopted.” Leki shrugged. “She is not one of us. Nor could she ever be. To think other ways is hubris and folly.”

“Son.” HoonDing’s rough voice, like sandpaper on wood, reached him. Diagna looked up at the Make Way God. “Leki speaks true. Your Empress knows what is at stake. This is her choice to make. She could be leaving with the rest of the Na-Totambu, but she did not. For those left on Yokuda, there is only death.”

“There will come a better day, Diagna.” Ruptga said. Thunder shook the sky. “The Yokudans will grow stronger. They will have to, without us.”

“A people without gods.” The HoonDing murmured. “What will they become?”

“They will become great.” Ruptga said. “They will create their own gods. Champions will arise from among them, guide them forwards. Champions like your Empress, Diagna. There will be a better day. This I know.”

“Come, father, brothers.” Leki said, pointing. “Our Adversary comes. Let us descend and do battle with him one final time.”

Far away, too far for a mortal to see, there stood a man.

He wasn’t pale, exactly, but was a shade of skin that no Yokudan could ever acquire. He wore a loose fitting white tunic, baggy white trousers, and leather shoes. A sword belt was tied tight around his waist, but no weapon hung from it.

His head was shaved bald. He had long jawline but narrow chin and large blue eyes.

This was Satakal. The god of everything. Or, at least, what was left of him. Supposedly half of him was missing.

Regardless, he was still ridiculously powerful. And destructive.

Satakal’s one goal was to destroy everything. He would only stop when there was nothing else to destroy. Supposedly, once he was done destroying, his other half—the missing halfway—would begin to rebuild again.

Diagna wouldn’t bet on that though.

Eleven of the gods dropped out of the sky. Zeht and Morwha remained behind, to lend their light and strength to the mortals fighting below.

The gods descended, floating down from the heavens. Ruptga landed at the front, first among them as always.

The sky shook and groaned. Ruptga spoke. “Satakal.”

“First immortal.” Satakal replied. He cocked his head. “You call me this name, although it is not yours.”

“The names the Yokudans give us are good enough.” Ruptga said. “Soon it is all they will remember of us. Names. The age of gods is over.”

“Arrogance.” Satakal stated. “You assume you are more than you were.” He looked around at them. “You are not gods. Nor were you ever. A god is infinite. A god is all-knowing. A god is eternal. A god cannot be killed, nor can he die.” Satakal shook his head. “You are none of these things. You are irregularities. Remnants of something that came before, thought destroyed. Not gods.”

“We are gods to them.” Leki said, stepping forward to stand at Ruptga’s side. “So long as that is how they see us that is what we will be.”

“Ignorance, then, in addition to arrogance. You would deny your true nature.”

“Our true nature is what we make it.” Ruptga said. “We determine who and what we are. That is an ability we have. Unlike you, one who is a slave to his purpose.”

“Falsehood. My purpose is what I am. Without it I am nothing. Entropy can be nothing more than that.” Satakal said. “In the scheme of this universe you are young. Children. You are ignorant to the true workings of things. You should not fight me. It solves nothing and will lead only to your demise.”

“We know.” Diagna said, emerging from the crowd of gods. “But that won’t stop us from fighting you.”

Satakal slowly looked to Diagna and stared. “What is this?” He demanded. Anger crept into his normally inflectionless voice. “What have you done?”

Diagna was confused. “What?” Satakal stared at him with such rage, as if Diagna’s very existence was an insult.

“What have you done?” Satakal screamed and the whole of the world shook.

The sky darkened by shades. Fissures appeared in the earth, beginning at slight cracks at Satakal’s feet, ending in massive canyons miles away.

Satakal roared wordlessly and launched himself at Diagna. He lifted from the ground, weightless, at the speed of an arrow. His eyes were full of murder, his hands bent into claws.

Diagna recoiled, too stunned to react. HoonDing stepped in between them, fist clenched, and swung. His fist caught Satakal in the side of the head. He was gone in the next instance, knocked into orbit.

“That will not delay him long.” HoonDing growled. He wheeled on Diagna and cuffed the young god in the side of the head. “Steel yourself, son. This is not Malooc we’re fighting!”

“Hey!” The goblin king protested from his position at the back of the pack.

“The Adversary will prove no easy foe. You must be at your best. Leki, Ruptga, and I cannot hold him alone. We need you.”

Diagna nodded once, resolute. “I am ready.”

“Good.” HoonDing turned back and faced the sky. A dark form streaked towards them, breaking through the clouds of smoke. “For here he comes."