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Author Topic: Legends of The Cobalt Manticore!  (Read 5735 times)
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Cobalt Manticore
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« on: July 22, 2011, 09:21:26 PM »

Not since I woke up northshore of Raktam, what seems Eons ago, have I experienced such a profound change in realities. Just doing the usual, and the unusual, as I am often apt to do, I fell into a vector of vortex, of deep meditation. I was aware of it for dozens of moonrises but avoided it out of caution, fearing I would become sucked into it and engulfed, then stained and forever changed. I, 5 years to the day, have just joined my consciousness to the Collective. Not the Rakmogaki collective, but something of the bigger picture. In it, the vast astral veil and tapestry of amassed minds and mannerisms, I saw Faces. Faces of those I both liked and loathed, feared and predated upon, those I've offended and defended. This required further meditation and so I consulted with the skygods of night, those cold burning stars that I feel at one time I might have called home, and they answered. Into my clawed hand dropped a spiderweb containing 8 Moths, and 1 Spider. All the moths fluttered at such a lively rhythm the Spider could not decide on any a one. It wanted all, yet could not have but a one. The Moths had somehow mastered the Web to such a degree the Spider could not know precisely which way to proceed safely. With a voice like distant thunder that you more felt than heard, I heard these words above below beside and all around me, "Welcome, you have balanced the threads for long enough, now you have earned your wings. Welcome to the next level."
« Last Edit: July 22, 2011, 09:23:03 PM by Cobalt Manticore » Logged

Cobalt Manticore
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« Reply #1 on: July 23, 2011, 04:20:51 AM »

I stop for a spell, pun intended, on a beach during one of my many journeys abroad, and light up a fetish pipe composed of a clogged blowpipe bound with giant spidersilk to half of an empty gourd and light it up and think back on my origins. Raktam's Home Shaman was a great help to me in these early foundering floundering years of my initial thunder and blunder. I don't think I was fortunate enough to have received the training many of our young Scouts, Warriors, Shamans and even Villagers receive. I probably turned it down, I'm not sure. The passage of many years washes away the sharpness of memory like rains fuzz the corners of writings in the sands. Najdam did however give me my first Tigers Tooth Amulet. In hindsight I feel he Might have been Hinting at the most possibly future direction my life would take me on, my feral appearance evidently not enough a hint to myself, but I foolishly traded it in for weapons and herbs and other meager starting out supplies. In those early times, Raktam may have had Royalty but I wasn't paying much attention. Never had the head for politics, although I now think it is an acquired taste. I'm an idealist with high standards however, so I'd follow none short of godhood back then. I preferred instead to spend much of my waking and sleeping hours out in the jungles amongst the much simpler and straightforward rulership of the very chaos of nature itself. It was Dangerous, but it was Consistent. It was a rough learning at first, I consumed several handfuls of healing herbs and suffered a painful resurrection killing an elephant with nothing but my stubborn angry fists. The Laws of the Jungle were the truest form of tough love an abstract teacher could lend one, but those prime and primary lessons have never been forgotten.
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Cobalt Manticore
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« Reply #2 on: July 23, 2011, 07:04:57 PM »

I sit across from an Outsider at a campfire, but he's peacefully intended and has killed nobody and nothing, I ask him what he's up to. There was a time I would not have cared, there was a time when I would not have considered this in a far different dealing with him. My thoughts travel back to that time. My blades sang like cries from the heavens as I swung and danced around and about more and more prey. The hunting was good that day even as I proceeded north to the ruins near Raktam. I had suffered some minor abrasions and bumps along the way but it took small attention to restore them. Finally emerging into a clearing, I closed my eyes against the bright daylight and inhaled the watery morning airs. I then caught scent of an outsider. I drew my blade and in no way could I have stopped my own forward progress for the sake of fragile abstracts like peace. Raktam had been overly besieged lately and the soul debt they racked up against me and mine demanded satisfaction. I went searching from hut to ancient hut when I finally found the pale stinking savage. The cries from the underworld commanded vengeance and so I struck! Eventually my arms began to burn with exhaustion and I looked to my fellow natives to finish off this, a menace to us all, and moved on to a neighboring hut to rest. Sometime later that night the then rulership walked in and spoke softly, knowing I was awake and listening, to kindly not attack the outsider as they were a Friend? Awhile after that the Outsider Friend himself walked in and smiling gleefully they dispatched me laughingly. This was to be an unfortunance of Raktam for quite some time. I then resigned myself that I would Never understand the ways of man and that's when I made one of my first long term long time journeys into the deep jungles. Where the rules were far simpler, never changed, played no favorites. It was awhile until I returned. All my blades dull and broken and my medicine pouch completely empty. Stepping over a few of the dead of my tribe I made my way into the medicine hut. There had to be something done, we had to be able to defend ourselves, as these monsters and lunatics from overseas only laughed at our peaces and diplomacies as they struck us down as if they were only clearing vegetation. I was beginning to see a larger picture and it extended beyond any one clan in our tribe or neighboring tribes. It was an extreme and an absolute but it seemed to do nicely at the time.
« Last Edit: July 23, 2011, 07:07:31 PM by Cobalt Manticore » Logged

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« Reply #3 on: July 25, 2011, 02:03:44 AM »

The guest at his campfire woke up immediately complaining, "You sure have a funny way of saying Greetings." I wake up slowly opening one eye or another, my more CATLike personality being the first to interact with my world. "You have a funny way of expressing gratitude for my sparing your life." With age comes experience, with experience comes power, and with power comes responsibility. And yet, by the same gold coin, on it's tailside I don't have to take alot from others. Contrary to some possibly unnecessarily held beliefs I am no xenophobe. I embrace there being all races on our island nation of Shartak, yet you'll forgive of me some lingering cautions concerning the many times and many ways each shade of man has acted too frequently before. So it was even on the day I first encountered the being calling itself Aluminus Kann. At my first glance he seemed just your ordinary pirate so I was quickly on guard and ready to commence.. being... proactive. He laughed uproariously and spoke "Aha ha hAAA ha harrr, Love the new Look! Greetings, or shall I say Again? Cobalt Manticore!" I was aghast, I did not know a Word of OutsiderSpeak and yet this bizarre being spoke to me as if he were any one of our native kin, and yet in his own way. He began firing wildly around him with an array of 3 rifles bound together in crab legs. He was soon to be joined by another, by the name of Crucipher, "Where's all that firepower coming from? Oh hell, I didn't see you there! Cobalt?" He appeared to be the outsider version of our shamans, decked out in various armory shells and glittering scales. Aluminus roughly clapped us both on our backs, "Good, good, all are assembled! Let's have a toasted drink, pals. We're going to Form A Clan!" And so it was that I had gleaned yet another shining gem of understanding of our outsider counterparts. Though it is not always so, I think to myself as I strike the deathblow upon Twist. I Was after The Heirophant. My world has no room for others who have no room for others. Racists especially. I stoop down and hold his head up "You're not the heirophant," and I slice and wrest his head up off his body, "But you'll do." And as I hold Twist's skull up admiring my handiwork, I acknowledge that I might not always get the enemies, or the friends I expect - but the ones I do get make it all worthwhile enough.
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« Reply #4 on: July 27, 2011, 07:05:45 AM »

That was a good kill, not the one I had intended but sometimes the clan's goals come above the village's. His skull was a good addition to those in the pack and his spirit had colorful words to leave me with. His name is not important. I had nothing personal against him so his death meant no more to me than an animal kill. I work in mysterious ways, it may seem confusing, even to myself but it's not. I may even seem selfcontradictory at times. This is not one of those times. I follow a clearly defined chaotic path that dates back from my earliest days. I remember it all as if it was yesterday. Najdam stepped out in from of me when I exitted from the Medicine Hut. I was just musing how much Nihlia kept her coolpool of calm within her no matter how much death and violence happened within the healing hut. I didn't think I could do that. I have a temper, I get vengeful, in these ways I'm not enlightened, but am rather Primal instead. Najdam knew this even then, hence why I think he was trying to give me direction, directions. He stepped in my path. "Cobalt one, open your hand!" he blurted as he slapped a small square of leathery tiger hide, "Now Go! In All these directions!" I looked down at the symbol drawn on the old furless catskin. It seemed very familiar, but from where? I closed my eyes shut tight until colors formed. I heard the wails and cackles of undying corpses, roars of great lizards and the unending clangour of steel on steel. My eyes popped back open and Najdam was gone, he resumed sitting and tending the still resting bodies of those ready to reawaken into life. Whereas I had places to go, and yet no places to go at all. It was time to go in no particular direction at all, at least one of them for now, the rest would come whenever later.
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« Reply #5 on: July 27, 2011, 09:27:51 PM »

I have just arrived in York. I'm a little slow on catching up to things. I arrive to the... yes, hut I'm in, why shorten the game yet... with my last few puffs of breath. Scorponok's left some telltale scratches on trees and huts telling me that he too has arrived. Somehow though, it appears the raid here is concluding? Hence why I say once again I'm a little slow on the uptake. I step inside anyway. I can raise a little bit of final hell while I'm there before continuing on to the next episode/s. I scratch out what was carved there before and carve "Kill The Heirophant, Make him a Heirophantom, Save the Reputation of York." onto the wall. Contrary to what it may seem I actually Like York, and at least 40% of it's Outsider population. I've come to terms with alot of what used to irritate me and weary out my soul, but then I know when to take a break. I look around the hut at the amassed faceless wall of outsider anonymity and allow myself to doze off a bit. It all works out just fine in the end. I was missing to the island even from myself for quite a few months. There have been a few periods like this. Clans have risen and fallen in my absence, new Caves discovered, an entire Sacred Space atop The Mountain discovered and inhabitated, and the Rediscovery of some of Shartak's darker history and darkest mystery, The Cannibals have returned, again, for the first time. Animals have fallen in legions and some have risen as undead corpses, The Great White Shaman Santa visited a couple times or more, white rabbits bearing woven baskets of multicolored eggs became a routine sighting even amongst those not taking soured healing herbs. I had missed alot, and to Shartak I was dormant, but my spirit raced the cosmos. As my body, left to the mercy of happenstance and even then just killed as it was, began to hide itself within the jungles I roamed free and unfettered. I raised entire kingdoms, and razed others, trained and tamed numerous warriors, and even in one dimension I was a Powerful unthinking Beast, whose attraction to creativity of the human mind would draw me by chance to reward or punish whomever would kill or be killed by me. And yet always I return to Shartak. Each time I've returned, villages and settlements have changed rulership. Each time I come back, I find the landscapes dramatically changed. And each time I reawaken to Shartak after my long sleeps, the passage of time seems to rejoice in speeding up while I'm dormant. A few familiar names remain, in person or writing. Blue Hummingbird had become a name on a tomb. Azguz still walked the earth at times. The dread Armadox himself had seemed to fade into the mists of time, finally tired or bored with bedevilry. Members of my clan would join, exist for a time here, before finding their way off the island, or out of life in general. I look to myself however. Seems during the great Catastrophe of Nothingness, when the Skygod Simonamor called Shartak back to his mind, leaving it and all of us brief memories, those of us who had existed before had gained an Honorific. Shartak had eventually returned, no worse for wear and it now seemed composed of some of the past, present and future of itself! I look to myself. I am now considered An Ancient? It's a title I feel I barely deserve, but wear anyway. I've been gone for much of Shartak's great historic milestones, in many ways I too am young in the ways of diplomacy and war. Naive in the ways of political intrigues and triplicities involved in that. My simple codes of involvement no longer serving in a world no longer as cut and dried. It was rather so interwoven that even the truest aim to attack would severe a strand of destiny tied too closely to oneself. But here I am, I look to myself, sitting in a Hut in York, awaiting the next page of destiny to turn and I am content.
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Cobalt Manticore
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« Reply #6 on: August 09, 2011, 05:39:43 AM »

{OOC: It's always a pleasure being mentioned, characteristically, truthfully. I noticed I made it into the wiki a couple more times!: http://wiki.shartak.com/index.php/Death_Aid_2010 and http://wiki.shartak.com/index.php/Exploration_Skills are the two I found, there are more. A guy could feel a little famous from all that.} Cool

{But in all seriousness, it's good to remember one's roots, and http://wiki.shartak.com/index.php/User_talk:Cobalt_Manticore brought some of that back to me.}
« Last Edit: August 09, 2011, 05:44:39 AM by Cobalt Manticore » Logged

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« Reply #7 on: October 29, 2011, 02:11:42 AM »

Seems so Empty in Raktam without the Blue Hummingbird or MonaLiza. Cobalt Manticore stalks Raktam's quiet streets flushing out prey from Raktami huts and killing them where they stand. None are innocent, as judged by the bodies of our fallen people, their shredded broken bodies crying out with the telltale signs of their killers, their empty eye sockets still reflecting the faces of their murderers. Cobalt is only one man...ticore though. He could be killing forever and never be of any shortage of base criminals and peace disturbers to dispatch to The Underworld. Their blood sprinkling down into the ground, their souls fleeing up and out into the air. Still this may not be enough. The Cobalt Manticore could thrive endlessly on bloodletting, vengeace infusing him as surely as breath gives life, but he is stalked in turn - by questions. He questions his own morality, not for himself but for how his sanguine actions may appear to those he may be serving and must be answering to. Is the Killing of Killers just perpetuating a crimson circle of violence? He knows Peace will not stem the tide. And where are Raktam's Rulers? Seems so Empty without them. The Ruling Body of Raktam lacks Heads. Even Baraka sits in the Throneroom now, lacking his own. So Cobalt Manticore continues to stalk Our killers, his assertive proactive stance ever questioned, his vengeance never-ending. He may have to consult his fellow Chaotic Animal Totems. The ever chattering noisome BarnCat, the cold fires in the heart of Scorponok, somewhere in between may be the answer.
« Last Edit: March 04, 2012, 05:48:33 PM by Cobalt Manticore » Logged

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« Reply #8 on: December 25, 2011, 11:11:00 PM »

Cobalt Manticore was Pacing, physically and mentally. His constant motion was dizzying up the BarnCat, but Scorpnok only noted it by subtly shifting his position to stay out from underfoot. Finally Cobalt stopped, "Clanimals. We are at an Impasse, and Something Must be done." BarnCat raised his clawed hand eagerly, like a prized apple polisher from a primary school, "Oh, I know! I know! Let's deface Bear Mountain with outdated commercial slogans and jingles!" Cobalt Manticore scowled and covered his face with a hand, shaking his head as Scorponok pointedly snapped a skull into fragments with one massive pincer. Cobalt grumbled, "Both ideas have Merits, but really. You two are going to be my Heirs, and I Have to know that Shartak's going in to be in good hands, and to know this I Must know of you two your good Minds. Think, Clanimals. The answer is right there, in the lump sum of the parts, What is missing from US?" At that moment, a brief flicker of shadow announced a suspicious commotion from outside the hut. "But that Question can Await because an Answer has just Arrived!"
« Last Edit: March 04, 2012, 05:49:32 PM by Cobalt Manticore » Logged

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« Reply #9 on: January 01, 2012, 12:02:47 AM »

It's the Time of the Great Hunt again. This time sees Three of the Chaotic Animal Totems off each in their own farflung corner of the jungles. Some are somehow still meeting the rare fellow traveller, others surrounded in the beautiful fierceness of nature, and the momentary respite offered from savage death. They Track, they Attack, they Kill and they Die, and All is in Glorious chaos. Their eyes are alight with a purpose beyond human knowings, their senses attuned to a tight focus that loosely spreads over the landscapes. It's not a pretty picture but it's a necessary one. In this way, the Balance is preserved. Order is necessary for true Chaos to exist and know itself for what it is. It's also a great way to start the New Year. As distant settlements count down numbers and cheer and fire guns in the air and pop corks from glass bottles, the CATs aren't even thinking in civilized terms, for the balance is being paid forward, and once order is restored a plan will take form. And once this plan is formed then actions will commence, but meanwhile let us return to the darkened glade. It's nighttime and a weary solitary being sleeps next to a campfire. He shudders in his sleep and whimpers in helpless fear as if, even in his dreaming, he could sense the cold blue eyes of a Beast nearby, growling deeply down over him as it stalks by.
« Last Edit: March 04, 2012, 05:50:23 PM by Cobalt Manticore » Logged

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« Reply #10 on: February 02, 2012, 12:40:14 PM »

He stopped dead in his tracks, eyes darting. His heart regained it's usual rhythm, if not a bit tired and hurried, "Who said that?! Who just now said-"
Quote
Since your last move:
Congratulations! You just reached 3000 XP and now have enough for another skill. (2012-02-02 12:27)
, and what did you mean by that?" But he knew what it meant, there was nothing more left to learn, no accomplishments left to earn, maybe achievements left to fill, and there were always murderous clowns to kill. He could feel an age creeping up on him though. He saw how some things could change, some other things would Never change. And briefly he was overcome by a flittering vision of a giant Bat with swords for wings. There were many, many, things to do first. Was there yet more to learn? He was still in search of his Faith, for what was a Shaman without his Faith? His faith in himself, his village's faith in him, both seemed to be in question lately. A Pie Rat, or Pirate had arisen lately to claim to be King, of all things, and somehow the dancing cackling fiend was swaying the public's opinion against him while he was spouting his rumlined nonsense. Something had to be done, and soon.
« Last Edit: March 04, 2012, 05:51:47 PM by Cobalt Manticore » Logged

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« Reply #11 on: February 05, 2012, 11:32:23 PM »

Some time ago, Cobalt Manticore was approached by the insuffereably chattering Radio BarnCat and asked what the Secret to "InLightningMeant" was. It reminded the stern Cobalt, Shaman of Chaos, of the Ancient Days when the Sacred Spaces were still accessible, the Gates were open in each town.  Even Scorponok was there as well for a time, occupying the catacombs a few times as their rarely disputed top of the food chain. The Manticore could remember walking amongst the masses huddled there in peaceful discourse, and it seemed the dream of racial unity was realized at least in this place. You could descend back to the earth from those heavens via a devastating lightning bolt, but there was rarely ever a reason to. All that war and strife and indigestion on terra firma could comfortably be forgotten about up there. BarnCat was still inquiring about the gates in each town, if they were still up would they ever be used again or something. Cobalt Manticore still had his eyes to the distant snowy slopes at the top of the Sacred Mountain. It was where he had once retired to before. No other place could quite compare though. The Temples, the Spires, the Gardens & Songbirds flitting from place to place and even the roving Trader up there. Meanwhile, in Raktam, the BarnCat had wandered off bored and restless as usual. Cobalt Manticore lowered his distracted gaze, It could be for never until those heights are ever reached again, but he was weary. So very weary. If only that Lightning could strike twice in the same place again. He wished he only knew what the End of the Lightnings Meant.
« Last Edit: March 04, 2012, 05:52:28 PM by Cobalt Manticore » Logged

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« Reply #12 on: March 04, 2012, 06:01:49 PM »

Raffles was back, but then what could one do about this? The Cobalt Manticore was suffering from a massive coldlike ailment that fogged his brain and seemed to sap at his energy and accuracy out in the wild chaotic world he talked and stalked within. Sensing purrhaps he was ill at favour with the SkyGods and they had subtly cursed him he shuddered a bit in resentment, and fevered chills. The Songbird on his shoulder seemed more an immobile decoration anymore these days but, still he wore her proudly. Pirates may have their Parrots, but None of them had a Zombie Songbird. He sat on the floor, tiredly gathering herbs to himself and trying to assemble a coherent cohesive plan of action for Raktam to move as one within. The Frenzy and the Tribe of Wendigo both seemed hungry for conquest if the smell of blood and smoke from the SouthEast was any indication, Wiksik was getting ravaged as if by a pack of wild dogs, and Raktam had to be ready to defend itself. Cobalt Manticore the most recent, maybe the Last, of the Great Warlords of Raktam stood up, blades and blowpipes at the ready, arcane magices flickering and flaring at his chaotic animal clawtips, and the resolve of his totem flowing through his being. This Era of Raktam History would Not go Quietly into that Great Night, nay, for they would Rage, RaGe, RAGE at the Dying of the Light! {00c: paraphrased from dylan thomas lol just always liked the sound of that particular line}
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« Reply #13 on: March 17, 2012, 10:57:47 PM »

The Ground shook Violently under Cobalt's feet! He looked around, arms out and wings balancing his wobbling stance. Nihlia looked around the room slowly and looked slightly up and to the west, to The Mountain.. Cobalt Manticore did so as well and suddenly understood as the murmurs in the healing hut reached his ears and filled his mind with curiousity. He blurted out whatever words could come to mind in passing but he just had to go see the event for himself. Transforming into his totem form he bounded through the jungles and soared up the mountain paths until he came upon a trail of fallen rocks. Carefully and steadily making his way up the trail he rested for a bit then resumed his upward ascent. he soon emerged out onto a plateau of snow, patched with mud pools and edged with mountainous rock. The furthermost reached showing a thin line of green grasses punctuated with trees. It had been far too long. The Cobalt Manticore had returned home. It Seemed like an eternity since he'd last walked this revered landscape and he was eager to rejoin it once and for all, but he was still incomplete. There were still trials of Faith to complete, now that the magicks of Faith had Too returned to Shartak. Raktam still needed defending and her people still needed to have Faith in Themselves, if not Him, before he could Leave them to their Terrestrial tribulations. A Shaman nobody had Faith in would be Nowhere near as devastating as a Village that Didn't have Faith in Itself. He knew he still had earthly business to attend to but it could wait, a day, or two. This Sacred Space was So... very.. majestic.
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« Reply #14 on: April 06, 2012, 04:17:53 AM »

A blue pillar atop a snowy peak, not yet. A time forever etched in memories, but yet it's still that time. He had awoken to a new time, and a new era that saw the Sacred Space dissoluted and his corporeal form expelled back out onto the landscape but it seemed it was quite nearly about that time to return. He stepped outside the Medicine Hut and smoked a small pinch of healing herb stuffed in a remade blowpipe and thoughtfully stared up at the stars. Taking a handful of Runesticks he tossed them and they foretold a messages of air, earth, fire and water. He rolled some Dice and got a 4 and a 3. Flipped a Coin and got Heads. Yes, it seemed now was the time that was soon to see all in readiness. He tracked the maroon soggy footsteps of Human Wine and drew his blade. The pest was going to be exverminated or Cobalt would die trying. It didn't seem to matter as much, these earthly doings, not so much anymore. Off to the Left of Najdam, his foe was outside and foolishly unawares, a sitting duck, the fool having evidently forgotten what a permanent stain on his soul his reputation was to this War Shaman. Cobalt could Not abide it's existence. The Spirits of the Underworld wailed out from the parched ground their thirst for his blood. Cobalt Manticore, Animalistic Shaman Totem, WarLord of Raktam, did what was in his chaotic nature to do. Further Violence could Not be Tolerated, sooner or later all his enemies had surrendered or were destroyed. That which does Not become part of the Whole, Must become Void. Cobalt Manticore began his bloody work anew, a crimson ministry and feral testament to the laws of the jungle, in a world with less and less time and space for that anymore.
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