#tythus strigg

[moonlit-trolls]

Things you see before hearing

"Wretched creature. your death will do good to the world"

[moonlit-trolls]

For the blorbo meme... Well anytrolls you really vibe with right now

[moonlit-trolls]

Be Judged by the Herald of the Hooting Ones

“Good day meiny, believers or heathens that thou might be.  Stand proud for i shall be the handler of judgments for tonight. be you high in caste, or low. matters not, my criteria are my own to decide“

(You know the drill! 1 Troll per time, Multiple rb’s are allowed, Judgbacks are VERY welcome but not necesary by any means!)

[moonlit-trolls]

Green Fields

[The contents of this short story happen close to a few months after Tythus' Death.]

The following very singular narrative record of impressions was disclosed under circumstances so specific they need their own prefacing: december 15th [Data Expunged] It was around 8:30 o’ clock The small population of the town near the woods was surprised by the near death of a Rustblood, It was a small town not under the thumb of the empire, a place where blood mattered less than elsewhere. Although still the castes remained as trolls will keep their traditions, Still, They were kept to a much lesser extent

(December 16 [Data Expunged] 6:30 AM)

The body was found by Two Investigative Legislacerators, Scratch marks around the back, with what seemed to be flat toothed bites

    — Deer? We were exploring this death and it turns out to be a fucking Deer? — Lammia Said in anger, Death was in her line of work for a while, So she was unimpressed by the situation, The troll was still unconscious in the hospital bed

    — That’s… not how you’re supposed to talk to the victims of attempted murder, What if it was a Shadow Dropper, Maybe it just happened to be a troll with flat teeth… Those are common — The other investigator pointed out Their relatively flatter than normal canines.

    It is now that the statement of Fear being the most rational thought a troll could have would be placed in this record, But it needs not to be reminded, In discovery what seemed to be an ordinary notebook was found on the rustblood, Containing around 30 sheets of paper, most were ruined by a strange Goo-like substance, whilst the ones that weren’t had blood splatters reaching a week in age.

    In material though, The notebook contained pages filled with drawings of what seemed to be a deer made out of water. Or another kind of liquid substance. The covers were drenched in the strange goo substance, It did not seem to react to any chemicals placed upon it. Outside of when Lammia accidentally cut her finger. As the notebook seemed to Absorb it in its entirety and leave no trace behind. No visual was seen of the situation, hence it shall be classified as Hearsay.

    The professors who analyzed the Gooey substance reached conclusions it appeared to be some sort of modified blood, but they could not state what kind, No color were to be explained as it was closer to a dark brownish green than anything, Stating it seemed to be mixed with dirt would not be enough to describe it.

[Statement abruptly ends after the Disappearances of Both Legislacerators.]

Story

I found myself in a narrow place, Alone with my thoughts, just as I thought I would enjoy. With a canvas and a stand I painted the bright greens matched to the vivid oceanic blues, Bright and billowy sending vapors of intoxicated dreams into the skies. The view was the coalescence that gave me an odd impression of sea and sky; Whilst the other side I found beauty in the mountainous woods near the construction of Trolls who dared to destroy the ancient sanctity of nature. 

    I saw not a living creature, nor signs that life ever wondered this land forgotten by the messiahs, The sea the wood and the sky encircled me, Reaching into regions beyond my imagination with it’s beauty… reaching so far i felt my body trembling as my breaths grew shallow

    As I stood silently in this solemn place, I noticed; I did not know how I got there, And scarce were the memories of my name and where I came from. I felt i could have gone mad were i in the stupor i stood beforehand, could i understand what was around me, my mind might not be able to withstand the black storms in the sea of knowledge. I remembered and was reminded of things, of the nights I stared out in the windows, gazing at the twin moons, Yearning for the stars to take me to a lonely place where I could simply paint. When I cursed the messiahs to trap my free soul to not be able to traverse the vast abysses I could stare in the night sky.

    I cursed for I believed I was alone, and the vastness simply felt alive, not that they were listening. Believing I was alone was what kept me sane in the nights where I saw it. Things i wished- Neigh Prayed to not understand, to never be able to grasp with the tendrils of my mind, To stay in the mundane, But prayers go awry when foul gods are the ones who listen.

    Whilst i was getting used to the feeling of the coarse mix of sand and dirt on my feet i heard a voice, it spoke softly like a parental figure i had met a long time ago, but never spoken to properly.

    — Death is not eternal. And i have awoken tonight —

    Despite the voice, all I heard was, Immeasurably far away far away, the sound of Falling water and flocks of birds, But when I turned to face it. The creature stood there, Height matching that of a troll four times my size, the skin was an amalgam of a strange gooey substance, and what seemed to be lusus fur. Eyes of purple that started me up and down. until i fell, my knees weak, i couldn’t stand and my back met the ground as it kept looming over me…

    I noticed that the piece of narrow land I stood on had separated from the rest of the mountain. And now floating not on the water that was to my side, It drifted ever closer to what seemed to be a construction of stone and glass, An ancient Cathedral that existed somewhere, i know not if it was my mind playing tricks on me, or the thoughts of something beyond the abyss that thinks

    As the island drifted, as the creature started, the sounds of birds grew louder and louder. They seemed to be chanting, and in one horrible instant remembered everything. Of such things I cannot, dare not tell, for therein was revealed the hideous solution of all which had puzzled me; and that solution would drive you mad, even as it almost drove me. . . . I knew now the change through which I had passed, and through which certain others who once were men had passed! and I knew the endless cycle of the future which none like me may escape. I believed I was forever bound to be awakened, To be aware. As all I saw before me were the young men who remained forever old, All I saw before me were the owls who chanted the beautiful choirs of dreams woven into their feathers… 

And I awoke, In the hospital. Babbling like a maniac, Something about the hooting ones. The dreams I had became but a fleeting memory, much like I felt myself fleeting away… I feel drowsy, And i think I can see an owl in the window.

[moonlit-trolls]

Diary from a Fleet Miner

Character(s): Tythus Strigg (mentioned), Npc

About: A man relates the horror that he experienced as an ore miner for the fleet

Words: 1147

CW: Death/Implied Death

( @memurfevur helped me fix some mistakes! grammar corrections and such)

I find myself forced to write this down because my men have not returned with me, and I wish to have this relayed. It is completely unwilling that I expose the things I have seen on that fateful night, but I believe the things that will soon be stated in this journal.

My name is Fowler Latkia. There are reasons for me to believe that my experience was purely hallucinatory in its entirety — for the fact that there are many reasons for me to believe as such, but even then horrible was the reality. Sometimes it is impossible to retain hope that what I had seen was merely an illusion. Perhaps my nights awake would have been easier to endure could I simply believe I did not see what I saw.

But for what has happened, I must in tandem take my place and accept my place in the turbulent void that is time for that does not seem to work the same ever since I saw what I did. The paralyzing thought of seeing it again makes the days seem longer and the nights are not enough to sleep well; my mind is guarding me against the dangers I saw in that cathedral. I do not know how to begin to imagine the monstrous and unimaginable horrors that the virtuous members of that church must inflict onto troll kind.

Assuming I was but a sane man, the experiences I dealt with that night were not things a sane man would have considered. It is not something that anyone has experienced before, or will experience again. I am sure in that regard, I remain unique — if I could only take from the deepest abyss that is my mind I’d make irrefutable evidence of what I had experienced. I was alone when I won against the horrors, and until now I have not said a word in respect of it to anyone. I could not have stopped the men who worked with me from excavating, but the sand beckoned our stupid souls. And dig we did, uncovering that freakish mound of faces: the clay statuette. I don’t know what scared me more, the statuette itself or the inscription underneath; both things that shook me to my core that I happen to not wish to be reminded of.

Doubting the facts and how I must reveal them to whoever finds the writings of a man driven to insanity by the fear of the unknown… That is if this would ever be found. These pages — of which the initial paragraphs might seem familiar to the followers of the excavation endeavors — are being written inside the cabin of a ship that takes me back to my hive. I am the only one who lived to tell the tale, and to think that we would have found that… Wings of black, no eyes to be discerned–  just that ominous sound. It was 10:35 in the morning. My men and I had unearthed the strange clay statuette, that was wrapped in a piece of cloth that did not seem to have been sewn, as if it was naturally formed in that way. We deserved our day’s rest, but we planned to cover an area so large — even larger if need be — for we were getting iron for the ships of the empress… How I wish I were that green once again. 

We operated on the face of a mountain, crushing rock and filtering the metals. Garael and Brycie were my companions in that. Even if most of our views were not seen eye to eye we agreed that the payout was worth whatever it made us. But in the unknown lies the fear, and the fear of the unknown is the oldest and most powerful… Wise words Garael, I wish you could recite them to me once more. 

As my earlier journals speak of since we left the first fleet bay… I had been afraid of something. Dreams had beckoned my mind of things that do not exist, a horror living deep within the minds of the insane… but I cared not, for the money was too good to pass by. How I wish my greed had not cost me my life. It is not that I wish I had not gone, for the journey had formed the man I have become today. We left 62° latitude south, we saw our first signs of land and the sun pouring the golden rays on our backs; oh a sweet sign of what was to happen

To my point once again, I feel that my knowledge of the common man language is waning and I feel as if I will not make sense any longer… I and Brycie had found a cathedral. Strangely located in the middle of a bustling town that none of us had prior knowledge of, even if the fleet forces that took us there mentioned that it was all normal. We met him, that man… I don’t know if I can call him that. The devoutness of the messiahs, the soft voice that came from him, how he let us stay for the nights we were working, it was all good. Far too good to be true. I cannot believe that the man they call Tythus Strigg existed. Ten sweeps ago and I cannot believe it even happened — but it all came to a close when my men, at 10:35… It was a rainy night, and the shouts of our operation felt deaf as the creature prowled. It wasn’t like a normal predator; it knew what it was doing. It was deliberate, tearing all my men limb to limb until they were gone, dead… I know it is a normal part of life, but it is not one I wished to come into an intimate knowledge of so soon. A Corvette filled with the best-trained fleet personnel. Massacred, and all that is left of that night stands in thin linen… that does not feel real and it has been on my shelf ever since. I feel it staring at me and it beckons me to go back, back to the sandy shores of which the voices say that I have left myself there… and every day I am fearful that they are right or that the voices know more than they should. I think I wish to meet the man they call “Herald of the Hooting Ones” once again.

O but if the heavens ever wish to give me a gift, may it be the complete erasure of the things that happened in that mountain, where madness reigns king, where we could hear the millions of owls inside a forest even… if none of either was ever in view or ever existed in the first place.

[Taken from the pages of an ex-Fleet Rust-Class Miner, Circa 250~ sweeps ago]

[moonlit-trolls]

A little predictable but Secret + Tythus too

[Docs for your sake]

CW: Clear Description of Violence, Death. Characters: Tythus Strigg and Nyctea [from @contrastparadoxx ]

“Never did I wonder where I laid in place of the heathens that roamed the lands. In place of those who followed not a thing, those who truly believe themselves to do good for nothing in return but I know for truth spoken to power nothing is done for no reason. A man helps another in the hopes that he might gain something from it, And if he believes he does out of the goodness of his heart, It is simply the fear of the Messiahs and the Horrors speaking for he wishes to go to the battle-grounds in the future. Where he shall live forever in the halls of glory.

In first cases post mortem-post resurrection. I Find my body behaving differently. My eyes require constant blinking, my heart beats at around eighty times per minute, Different from the seldom five it used to. And These memories, that rust blood must have done something to break my brain into components open rather than the vaults I left closed.”

–Post Revival Diary N° I

Tythus was recovering from having spent so long without a proper body. He ate uncooked meat ravenously like a wolf would without care. He was feral. but he behaved normally under everything. Remaining the stoic man he always was. but the memories of his past haunted him more than they ever did. These secrets that were kept inside lock and key inside his own mind but now they were roaming and they felt liberated.

The one that haunts him the most regards nyctea… and it hurts him physically to be reminded of it

It began on an alley behind a bakery. where tythus made a deal with the owner to allow him to eat the bread that didn’t sell, Sadly it was quite the famous place, and most of the unsold ones were stale or moldy. but he didn’t care too much about it. barely 5 sweeps old he just needed enough sustenance to get on top of his box, and preach the words of the hooting ones, as he was told by Owlcifer his lusus.

But that night was different. Because he saw someone else in the alley, with a blanket over the shivering troll he saw someone of the same caste on the same difficulties, he must’ve been two sweeps younger than he was. and tythus’ heart felt compassion.

— Hey… Kid, Are you hungry? — And the younger one just nodded as tythus handed the whole piece of bread to him. — I can’t say it’s much. but it’ll get you going — And with a smile The young prophet helped the troll get on his feet. And, his heart bled once more. for he couldn’t just, allow someone to go through what he was going through, and allow that he did not. It wasn’t hard, They became friends near instantly, Tythus preached for a bit of money while the other simply rested and waited. On more dangerous areas, tythus would have a small thing to tell the troll to hide until he was done. The melody was stolen from something he heard in the street, but it still meant something. 

— Hide Here Hide There Go wherever you are or were! The Big Owl Man Will Find You! And When he Does! We will have somewhere to go! — He smiled when he said that. looking at the other troll — Okay Nyc, you’re going to hide on the boxes right there, Some friends of mine are going to come talk to me. and we can go and get something to eat! I got some generous donations, so I think we can have pasta tonight!” — The smile never left his face even though he was lying through his teeth. They had already cut their hands and made a blood pact, in the name of being together forever, as friends who take care of eachother. and the scar hurt for every lie he told to nyctea. but it had to be done.

Tythus planted all the money he had on the boxes. and said the thing, and as nyctea hid. He walked to meet the trio of Fuchsiabloods that stood in his way. They were discontent with his preachings. and decided to give him some pointers. The main ones were a slash through the face, and getting beaten down to the dirt. As the foot of one of them had spiked boots went through his chest, the other one held his leg so he couldn’t crawl away. But tythus didn’t make a sound so nyctea wouldn’t worry. When all was done. Half of a barn owl mask remained at the scene of the crime. As the perpetrators dragged the young prophet’s body to the forest and dumped him there for the lusii to eat. Only for his lusus to weep over his body as nyctea found the broken piece of the mask. But not the body of his friend.

Tythus awoke in a panic after these memories rushed back. as he slashed through his diary with the ceremonial dagger

—This Must not be known by no being alive—

[moonlit-trolls]

so is tythus gone-gone?

Yes... Or

Maybe he's the cold spot you feel when you walk past the haunted halls, or the whispers behind the walls, Perhaps his memory is enough to haunt, He's just a bad omen, Or maybe he is the Shadow Man

[Soliel is @contrastparadoxx 's character]

[moonlit-trolls]

Journal III, Entry 150

Character(s): Tythus Strigg, Npc

About: Tythus wrote a journal entry about a recent event within his church

Words: 494

CW: Death/Implied Death

( @memurfevur helped me fix some mistakes! grammar goes to corrections and such.)

===============================================================

“The most merciful thing that could have happened to this man, I believe, was his inability to correlate everything that happened… I am Tythus Strigg and tonight we mourn the loss of a dear man to our community… Although crazed as he was, he had not told us of his troubles so we could help him like the community that we are… But matters not, A lost soul we mourn all the same. “

Things that were not known to me, though, was how close he had come to discover things that were not for him to understand. For many hours I sat in my study reading his manuscript… and these were the words I could make out on the blood-soaked text.

“I write this under considerable mental pressure. Fortitude leaves my body as tonight I know I won’t exist any longer."

Without a cent and at the end of the month and the last whims of my drunken stupor, I stumbled into the strange stone palace that gets called simply “The Cathedral”. That was more than six months ago.

He gave me shelter, food, and even books to read and everything I could ask for. He got me away from my drink and strangely made me feel safe, but I see for the ruse that it all was: that it was all to get me to trust him. Me, a God damn Heir trusting a man of that calibre. I should have known better.

I am writing this from my quarters. He gave me a quill and the ink to write, or else I would have gone insane here. Four weeks, Four God damn weeks… or was it more? Time is convoluted inside this hellish hole. But it doesn’t feel hellish… he treats me well, he pays me my due respects for higher class, but I know, I just KNOW that it is, it IS, it has to be a ruse. I’ve seen him, speaking with the shadows in the temple talking to things that were not there. And that owl… the lusus that he cares so much for cannot be real; I heard her whispering in my ear, in a language I did not understand, filled with guttural sounds and voices.”

I am afraid that tiny speck of kindness that I showed the idiotic sea-dwelling bastard was far too much; should I have given him just the quarters he might not have come so close to betraying my good faith.

It matters not, for news came that he somehow was a “frenzied mutant” who “riled up in arms and killed eight trolls in cold blood”

How did that come to happen? I wonder as he was such a polite soul, but the good part of it all was that the serum was not discovered. No friends to speak of, and his quadrants felt like he was correctly dealt with. And I am left to mourn his stupidity…