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Vainglory Lore: Varya

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Quote | PM | +Rep by PsiGuard » November 30, 2017 9:17pm | Report


Part One: The Queen's Gambit



The Storm Queen sends a vile threat to the King of the Anvil

High above the last of the air, a Churn-infected raven circled the Anvil, the floating land that kept safe the world’s enormous living library. The raven’s crazed eyes glowed and its oversized, razor-sharp talons curled as it tucked back its wings and dove straight down through the library’s single skylight. The glass shattered and tore into the flesh of the diseased bird; its blood steamed where it splashed on the cold hard floor.

All around the library, the single eyes on the covers of the living tomes rolled to stare at the raven as it spiraled around the giant clear crystal at the library’s center. The ancient man entombed within the crystal, King of the Anvil, He of the Two Faces, the Worldseer, did not stir, but one book rose from its designated place and fluttered open to the first blank page. In extravagant script, the words of the Worldseer appeared on the page:

When the Well of Power within the belly of Mont Lille swelled again to life, the Eventides raised up a Storm Queen in defense of the Calm. Against the rising Churn the queen raised a formidable army and demanded absolute allegiance of her people.

The insane raven bashed into the crystal again and again, screaming into the two faces of the Worldseer, that which watched the past and that which watched the future. The crystal glowed green wherever the raven touched, then cleared again.

Unblinking, the Worldseer continued to write: “When her need became dire, the queen demanded aid, not only from those of the living world, but also of the Netherworld and the Anvil, where the Churn could not reach. To ensure their cooperation, she sent two infected ravens below and above to deliver a message.

With a cough of green smog, the raven let out the last of its held breath in an otherworldly scream:

“As below, so above! As below, so above!”

In response,” continued the writing, “the Worldseer, King of the Anvil, called forth Varya, the living knowledge of lightning, to defend the Eventide Empire from the Churn, for the queen’s gambit could not be ignored…”

The book floated toward the raven, its eye glaring into the monstrous gaze of the raven as its pages fluttered, tore, and folded in on themselves. While the raven watched, the book bent and creased into the form of Varya, the living word made flesh.

Varya opened her hand, and the sky all around the Anvil rumbled. The small hairs on the back of her neck rose as electricity filled the library, collecting into a bolt of lightning that struck into her grip like a spear. With a singular flash, she pierced the lightning through the raven’s heart. Stiff, electrified, the dead bird dropped into her opposite hand.

She looked, then, to the forward-gazing face of the Worldseer, but he wrote no more words upon her heart.

Out of the living library Varya walked, out to the crystal edge of the Anvil. She dropped the Churn-infected dead thing off the side, down onto the living world, the great wheel of life and death, love and war, Churn and Calm. Above her, electricity collected in the clouds, building, humming.

To war I return. She smiled as the storm gathered, surrounded her, then delivered her in a flash to the surface of the world.


PsiGuard
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