Lillene Enjoy!
“Who are you to think you can demand something from me on my own land? Why shouldn’t I just kick you out of here like the grifter you are?” The voice sounded offended.
Serenity suspected that was as much acting as reality; the Apollyon actually thought there was no reason to talk to him, why were they talking? Apollyon was the one who started the conversation and who knew where Serenity was, not the other way around, so Apollyon ought to feel like he had all of the power in the conversation. He wasn’t acting like he thought Serenity was powerless, however, which was interesting.
Serenity shrugged and decided to answer the question. He had power, even if he didn’t really want to exercise it most of the time. “This may be your land, but it is my world. I have more than a little interest in the demons you’re releasing. What exactly are you planning?”
He decided to avoid the term Planetary Sovereign for now. Apollyon probably wouldn’t know what it meant; even offworld, people didn’t seem to know how powerful a true Planetary Sovereign was. Serenity had found that there were a lot of little things he could control if he wanted to, even though he’d chosen not to. He could have seriously messed up the world if he wanted to; actually controlling people would be far harder and he’d need significant loyal forces for that. He didn’t really care about control of the population, however, so he’d left their choices in their hands.
“You don’t know?” Apollyon actually sounded surprised. “Then - no, that doesn’t make sense. Why are you pretending not to know?”
Serenity waited quietly. This sounded an awful lot like an opponent working himself up to making a huge mistake and Serenity didn’t want to get in Apollyon’s way.
“You think you’re going to take control of them away from me, don’t you? I know you’ve managed to override a handful, but I have thousands. How could you possibly think you can override their creator on so many? Not even the Dread Bird could do that, though he tried. It was a mistake. No, you don’t think that, do you? That’s why you’re here to talk to me. You want me to control them.” Apollyon seemed to have forgotten that Serenity could hear him speaking. Perhaps he thought he was muted?
The term Dread Bird made Serenity think of the Terror War and the Claws of Doom. As over the top as that sounded, Phorus was supposed to be a birdlike member of the Council of Order that held sway over Fear; calling him a Dread Bird made sense. If Serenity remembered correctly, the Terror War was only about 2500 years ago, which meant that it happened well after A’Atla sank.
“Did he drive you to Earth?” Serenity couldn’t resist the question, even though he knew it would probably limit how much he’d get from Apollyon’s unguarded thoughts. This might be more important; it might give him insight into what Apollyon actually wanted. For that matter, did Apollyon even know that Phorus was dead? Was there something there Serenity could use?
Apollyon snorted. “Drive me to Earth? The Dread Bird? No, not Phorus. I was too valuable when he couldn’t control my creations; he needed me for that. He tried to control me through them and them through me. I let him believe it worked; he was always happier when he thought he was taking advantage of someone else and that made him give more to get less. He was far too clever for his own good.” Apollyon sounded positively pleased about putting one over on his old boss.
“Then what drove you to run to Earth?” Serenity was even more curious now. He hadn’t actually expected a connection between the ancient figure of terror and one of Earth’s Titans, but to have that connection exist and not be why Apollyon (or Cronus) was on Earth seemed even more incredible.
A long sigh echoed from the speaker before Apollyon said anything. “Phorus was greedy. He wanted it all. He wasn’t very creative, but he didn’t think he had to be, not when he could make others create for him. He took my method, something I spent millenia developing and honing based on scraps of information from the Before Time and used it to make his next tool.”
Serenity waited for Apollyon to continue. Surely he wouldn’t just leave the story there? It didn’t explain anything.
Apollyon didn’t seem to be in a hurry, but Serenity was patient enough that he eventually spoke again. “I’m sure you know them. Dungeons.” Apollyon spat the word out as if it tasted bad. “He took my technique and gave it to his artificial creations, twisted them from their true use into gladiatorial arenas so he could watch. He needed my technique; without it, his rocks were nothing more than fancy crystals that couldn’t even enhance a fly, for all they were designed to help humans. Humans! What is it always humans? Phorus’s people weren’t even human, why did he start with them?”
Serenity turned out Apollyon’s rant about humanity. He didn’t know the answer, but if he had to guess, it was because Phorus had stolen someone else’s work. Apollyon had already said that was the Terror Bird’s preferred method. The news that dungeons were a created thing wasn’t entirely a surprise, and he’d more than half expected to learn they were connected to Order’s Council somehow, given the fact that dungeons seemed to have their own Voice. The fact that they’d been created by the Terror Bird was a surprise and not a happy one. Serenity wondered if the dungeons’ Voice was created simply because Phorus could or if it was for a bigger reason. Why didn’t dungeons and monsters use the same Voice as the Pathed?
Apollyon’s rant about humans seemed to finally be over. “I found out about what he’d done after his first failure, when the Knives came for me. They blamed me for it, for releasing my passionate children onto a world when I knew nothing of it!”
Wait. Apollyon’s passionate children? Did he mean demons? Children of Passion was what the Broken Mirror called them.
The story of a world overrun by demons that came from dungeons sounded all too familiar. Was Apollyon talking about Zon? Was that why they didn’t know how to deal with dungeons - they were the first planet to have dungeons?
That made entirely too much sense.
“I ran, of course. You would too if the Knives came for you. They would not listen; that was not the duty of a Knife. Knives kill, that is what they are for. World to world, one portal after another … I do not know how far I ran. Eventually, I found a lost way, one of the old broken portals. One the Order could not see through. It led me to this starved and dying world. It made me safe, but safe only to die or conquer. So conquer I did.”
Serenity didn’t trust this long rant. He didn’t think Apollyon was lying, though his proclaimed lack of involvement did sound a little fishy. Despite that, it all made sense. It made so much sense that there had to be a reason Apollyon was saying it. This was too easy and Serenity didn’t trust things that were too easy. More than that, none of those history actually touched the core of the issue: what did Apollyon want?
“In time, I came to appreciate this broken world. Most traces of what it once was were lost to time and I buried them deeper; humans did not need the past and this was becoming a human world. No, I would shape this dross into a species that could take on the universe, something that could replace my lost creations. Something I could use to deal with the world that hunted me. Then … then I found out that the universe still hated me, for what came but more from the outside, more who would not bend?”
The more Serenity heard, the more he thought that the Final Reaper and Apollyon were not similar. The Final Reaper was hunted for what he was, while Apollyon … it seemed like he’d been hunted because of something he did. Perhaps it was a misunderstanding, but that still wasn’t quite the same thing. More importantly, when he hid, the Final Reaper did just that: he hid. He stayed away from people and tried not to interact with them. He certainly didn’t conquer them! It was no wonder Apollyon had to fight after that.
“My people decided they liked the honeyed lies of the newcomers more than my harsh truth and turned against me. They stole everything I gave them, then handed themselves to the outsiders. That was the end of the golden age, the age when everyone knew their place and was happy in it; since then, well, you know this world; how many are truly happy? This is an age of plenty and yet people fear more than ever. No, humans are not happy without knowing their place, and that place is not for them to decide. You know that.”
Serenity did not know that. He completely disagreed with Apollyon. He was repulsed by the idea of anyone telling him who or what he had to be and he wouldn’t have that for those he cared for either. He knew people who would take security and safety over choice; they were fairly common. That didn’t sound like the options Apollyon gave, however; instead, it sounded like he thought humans “wanted” stagnation and suppression.
“I fought, of course, but I lost. My tools were gone, then, and all I had left was my last weapon. It almost carried the day for me but in the end there were too many hairless apes to kill. If only I had my children then; perhaps I should have risked it, but I did not want to draw the Knives’ attention and it was too late for that when I knew I had lost. All I could do was destroy the site of my usurper’s greatest victory, hide, and wait to die.”
Serenity had the distinct feeling that there was a lot left out of the tale Apollyon was spinning. Some of it was probably important, too. On the other hand, this did answer the question of why the Eaters hadn’t smelled like demons: they weren’t. Apollyon considered them “a weapon” instead of “his children.”
Serenity was beginning to strongly dislike Apollyon. He’d already been inclined that way, of course, but he’d convinced himself to give the demon lord a chance. The more he heard, however, the more he was beginning to think that the curse Apollyon placed on Rissa and her family was how Apollyon wanted all humans to act: fated and accepting, blind to the wonders of the greater world and their own ability to choose their paths. To Serenity’s mind, that was exactly the opposite of what the Voice offered; the Voice’s Paths were rarely easy but they let you choose your own future.
“And then,” Apollyon paused dramatically. “And then Order’s Voice spoke to me again and I knew my days of hiding were over. I knew the Knives would come; not now but when the Voice let them see me, because never will they stop looking. So I started to build and I started to call. When the Knives come, they will meet my children as well as me. We may lose, but we will fight!”
Serenity noticed that Apollyon didn’t mention A’Atla at all.
Lillene
Hopefully this ties some things together. Apollyon left a lot out, but he’s trying to talk Serenity into something … or maybe stall him … Serenity isn’t sure yet. Either way, he clearly doesn’t expect Serenity to be able to use this against him.
Lillene Enjoy!
“Who are you to think you can demand something from me on my own land? Why shouldn’t I just kick you out of here like the grifter you are?” The voice sounded offended.
Serenity suspected that was as much acting as reality; the Apollyon actually thought there was no reason to talk to him, why were they talking? Apollyon was the one who started the conversation and who knew where Serenity was, not the other way around, so Apollyon ought to feel like he had all of the power in the conversation. He wasn’t acting like he thought Serenity was powerless, however, which was interesting.
Serenity shrugged and decided to answer the question. He had power, even if he didn’t really want to exercise it most of the time. “This may be your land, but it is my world. I have more than a little interest in the demons you’re releasing. What exactly are you planning?”
He decided to avoid the term Planetary Sovereign for now. Apollyon probably wouldn’t know what it meant; even offworld, people didn’t seem to know how powerful a true Planetary Sovereign was. Serenity had found that there were a lot of little things he could control if he wanted to, even though he’d chosen not to. He could have seriously messed up the world if he wanted to; actually controlling people would be far harder and he’d need significant loyal forces for that. He didn’t really care about control of the population, however, so he’d left their choices in their hands.
“You don’t know?” Apollyon actually sounded surprised. “Then - no, that doesn’t make sense. Why are you pretending not to know?”
Serenity waited quietly. This sounded an awful lot like an opponent working himself up to making a huge mistake and Serenity didn’t want to get in Apollyon’s way.
“You think you’re going to take control of them away from me, don’t you? I know you’ve managed to override a handful, but I have thousands. How could you possibly think you can override their creator on so many? Not even the Dread Bird could do that, though he tried. It was a mistake. No, you don’t think that, do you? That’s why you’re here to talk to me. You want me to control them.” Apollyon seemed to have forgotten that Serenity could hear him speaking. Perhaps he thought he was muted?
The term Dread Bird made Serenity think of the Terror War and the Claws of Doom. As over the top as that sounded, Phorus was supposed to be a birdlike member of the Council of Order that held sway over Fear; calling him a Dread Bird made sense. If Serenity remembered correctly, the Terror War was only about 2500 years ago, which meant that it happened well after A’Atla sank.
“Did he drive you to Earth?” Serenity couldn’t resist the question, even though he knew it would probably limit how much he’d get from Apollyon’s unguarded thoughts. This might be more important; it might give him insight into what Apollyon actually wanted. For that matter, did Apollyon even know that Phorus was dead? Was there something there Serenity could use?
Apollyon snorted. “Drive me to Earth? The Dread Bird? No, not Phorus. I was too valuable when he couldn’t control my creations; he needed me for that. He tried to control me through them and them through me. I let him believe it worked; he was always happier when he thought he was taking advantage of someone else and that made him give more to get less. He was far too clever for his own good.” Apollyon sounded positively pleased about putting one over on his old boss.
“Then what drove you to run to Earth?” Serenity was even more curious now. He hadn’t actually expected a connection between the ancient figure of terror and one of Earth’s Titans, but to have that connection exist and not be why Apollyon (or Cronus) was on Earth seemed even more incredible.
A long sigh echoed from the speaker before Apollyon said anything. “Phorus was greedy. He wanted it all. He wasn’t very creative, but he didn’t think he had to be, not when he could make others create for him. He took my method, something I spent millenia developing and honing based on scraps of information from the Before Time and used it to make his next tool.”
Serenity waited for Apollyon to continue. Surely he wouldn’t just leave the story there? It didn’t explain anything.
Apollyon didn’t seem to be in a hurry, but Serenity was patient enough that he eventually spoke again. “I’m sure you know them. Dungeons.” Apollyon spat the word out as if it tasted bad. “He took my technique and gave it to his artificial creations, twisted them from their true use into gladiatorial arenas so he could watch. He needed my technique; without it, his rocks were nothing more than fancy crystals that couldn’t even enhance a fly, for all they were designed to help humans. Humans! What is it always humans? Phorus’s people weren’t even human, why did he start with them?”
Serenity turned out Apollyon’s rant about humanity. He didn’t know the answer, but if he had to guess, it was because Phorus had stolen someone else’s work. Apollyon had already said that was the Terror Bird’s preferred method. The news that dungeons were a created thing wasn’t entirely a surprise, and he’d more than half expected to learn they were connected to Order’s Council somehow, given the fact that dungeons seemed to have their own Voice. The fact that they’d been created by the Terror Bird was a surprise and not a happy one. Serenity wondered if the dungeons’ Voice was created simply because Phorus could or if it was for a bigger reason. Why didn’t dungeons and monsters use the same Voice as the Pathed?
Apollyon’s rant about humans seemed to finally be over. “I found out about what he’d done after his first failure, when the Knives came for me. They blamed me for it, for releasing my passionate children onto a world when I knew nothing of it!”
Wait. Apollyon’s passionate children? Did he mean demons? Children of Passion was what the Broken Mirror called them.
The story of a world overrun by demons that came from dungeons sounded all too familiar. Was Apollyon talking about Zon? Was that why they didn’t know how to deal with dungeons - they were the first planet to have dungeons?
That made entirely too much sense.
“I ran, of course. You would too if the Knives came for you. They would not listen; that was not the duty of a Knife. Knives kill, that is what they are for. World to world, one portal after another … I do not know how far I ran. Eventually, I found a lost way, one of the old broken portals. One the Order could not see through. It led me to this starved and dying world. It made me safe, but safe only to die or conquer. So conquer I did.”
Serenity didn’t trust this long rant. He didn’t think Apollyon was lying, though his proclaimed lack of involvement did sound a little fishy. Despite that, it all made sense. It made so much sense that there had to be a reason Apollyon was saying it. This was too easy and Serenity didn’t trust things that were too easy. More than that, none of those history actually touched the core of the issue: what did Apollyon want?
“In time, I came to appreciate this broken world. Most traces of what it once was were lost to time and I buried them deeper; humans did not need the past and this was becoming a human world. No, I would shape this dross into a species that could take on the universe, something that could replace my lost creations. Something I could use to deal with the world that hunted me. Then … then I found out that the universe still hated me, for what came but more from the outside, more who would not bend?”
The more Serenity heard, the more he thought that the Final Reaper and Apollyon were not similar. The Final Reaper was hunted for what he was, while Apollyon … it seemed like he’d been hunted because of something he did. Perhaps it was a misunderstanding, but that still wasn’t quite the same thing. More importantly, when he hid, the Final Reaper did just that: he hid. He stayed away from people and tried not to interact with them. He certainly didn’t conquer them! It was no wonder Apollyon had to fight after that.
“My people decided they liked the honeyed lies of the newcomers more than my harsh truth and turned against me. They stole everything I gave them, then handed themselves to the outsiders. That was the end of the golden age, the age when everyone knew their place and was happy in it; since then, well, you know this world; how many are truly happy? This is an age of plenty and yet people fear more than ever. No, humans are not happy without knowing their place, and that place is not for them to decide. You know that.”
Serenity did not know that. He completely disagreed with Apollyon. He was repulsed by the idea of anyone telling him who or what he had to be and he wouldn’t have that for those he cared for either. He knew people who would take security and safety over choice; they were fairly common. That didn’t sound like the options Apollyon gave, however; instead, it sounded like he thought humans “wanted” stagnation and suppression.
“I fought, of course, but I lost. My tools were gone, then, and all I had left was my last weapon. It almost carried the day for me but in the end there were too many hairless apes to kill. If only I had my children then; perhaps I should have risked it, but I did not want to draw the Knives’ attention and it was too late for that when I knew I had lost. All I could do was destroy the site of my usurper’s greatest victory, hide, and wait to die.”
Serenity had the distinct feeling that there was a lot left out of the tale Apollyon was spinning. Some of it was probably important, too. On the other hand, this did answer the question of why the Eaters hadn’t smelled like demons: they weren’t. Apollyon considered them “a weapon” instead of “his children.”
Serenity was beginning to strongly dislike Apollyon. He’d already been inclined that way, of course, but he’d convinced himself to give the demon lord a chance. The more he heard, however, the more he was beginning to think that the curse Apollyon placed on Rissa and her family was how Apollyon wanted all humans to act: fated and accepting, blind to the wonders of the greater world and their own ability to choose their paths. To Serenity’s mind, that was exactly the opposite of what the Voice offered; the Voice’s Paths were rarely easy but they let you choose your own future.
“And then,” Apollyon paused dramatically. “And then Order’s Voice spoke to me again and I knew my days of hiding were over. I knew the Knives would come; not now but when the Voice let them see me, because never will they stop looking. So I started to build and I started to call. When the Knives come, they will meet my children as well as me. We may lose, but we will fight!”
Serenity noticed that Apollyon didn’t mention A’Atla at all.
Lillene
Hopefully this ties some things together. Apollyon left a lot out, but he’s trying to talk Serenity into something … or maybe stall him … Serenity isn’t sure yet. Either way, he clearly doesn’t expect Serenity to be able to use this against him.
