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| Zygarde (rei-azalia); The Balance | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jan 25 2016, 04:50 PM (235 Views) | |
| rei-azalia | Jan 25 2016, 04:50 PM Post #1 |
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A Chill Bro
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![]() Name: Zygarde Phonetic: Zigh-guard Alignment: Lawful Neutral Personality: Zygarde is the epitome of justice. She stands between good and evil, a scale and a moral mortal choicemaker between the lords of the underdrey, Xerneas and Yveltal. She decides when the sick shall live and when a puppy should be culled for a deformity. She is calm but not gentle by any means, nor is she quiet or a push over. She is very wise and very commanding, unafraid of Yveltal's wrath and understanding of Xerneas's pro-life ways. She leads her pack well but is not very social, only speaking in council or to give advice. She usually sleeps besides that, in a great cave that none but she may enter and only her two 'warring ones' may approach. Backstory: Spoiler: click to toggle Monsters lurk in the abysmal, dank caverns that delve deep into Draiah’s belly. There are rumors that beyond the winding caves and dangerous crevices is another world, one inhabited by creatures so mutated and shifted in appearance and nature that they could hardly still be considered aershaa. Surprisingly, packs still form there as they do on the surface, for somehow life found a way, as it is wont to do. (Parts of this were written by Aurrie and Kemi) It is said that aershaa who ventured into the depths will turn into those monsters, and that death followed in their wake. Word has it that one particular mutant is a towering beast, with talons long and deadly and eyes that shine with an undreyly glow full of raw danger and brutish beliefs. Yveltal, that was what the beast is called, and he ran his pack ruthlessly, slaying those he saw unfit to walk the drey. “Culling” was what he called it and any aershaa – pup or elder, age did not matter – was put to death for being useless to the pack’s ultimate survival. Some say it branched beyond that; anything seen as a possible threat or enemy was put to death, Yveltal devouring the very essence of their lives to strengthen himself. There are those extremists who claim its worse than we fear, that this Yveltal was a cannibal, one who enjoyed eating those who were not smart or strong enough to last a season. Some call him a twisted servant to Khan, while others insist that Draiah had fashioned him from poisoned drey. Either way, he was considered to be a monster in aershaa’s fur and acted accordingly. “Don’t go into the Underdrey or Yveltal will get you” was a general warning, but Yveltal was not the only danger lurking beneath the drey’s soil. There are monsters too, larger than you can imagine, like the creatures upon the surface but impossibly huge, and incredibly violent. Such a lawless place, where horror and despair lurked around every turn, with each monster greater and larger than the last, the God of Death himself reigned. But trapped as he was deep within Draiah’s breast, he did not go unchallenged. Sealed with him, or perhaps there to contain him, was another mighty monster, this one formed of ice and air, a fearsome frozen creature that could compete in height with even the mutated mindless beasts that shook the Underdrey with their passage. His charcoal haunches supported a weary head of chilled blue, weighed low by the burden of his gift and his curse; a massive crest of interwoven horns that would put even the oldest plated deer to shame. Tangled within the pale tendrils were colorful, lightly glowing bits that looked like trapped, petrified birds in some nightmarish tree. His pride, his joy, his sadness were all tangled upon his head in these antlers, weighing down his brow. For when he bent his horns to the dying, the glow within them brought light and health back to their eyes. His touch, his breath, the light from his horns, all were a healing balm to the injured and those treading close to the claws of the God of Death, Yveltal. But while this God of Life, Xerneas, could bring life back to the dying, he could not cure their mutations. So Yveltal lurked forever near the children of the Underdrey that Xerneas had saved, waiting for the moment he could take their newly granted lives back within himself, strengthening his own powers and leaving their broken, deformed bodies behind…on such occasions where he did not use the carcasses for sustenance. This shortcoming was a massive thorn to Xerneas, that he could give life to the creatures around him, but not salvage their bodies whole and functional beyond mending their injuries and illnesses. He could not heal the mutations that the drey they lived within poisoned them with. And so he had, over centuries of failing to reverse the vilest of ailments, become a sad, brooding recluse. He did not know of what happened beyond his realm, in the darker places where Yveltal ruled. Xerneas preferred to keep instead to his isolated lake, traveling out in solitude on occasions when he was needed to grant life and healing to the beleaguered creatures of the Underdrey. Though many gravitated towards him, and a few tried to make their home near him to gain his protection, the frosty glare of his eyes and his bitter demeanor kept most at a distance, until he was needed. Still, he never wanted for anything, as those whom he had blessed left gifts of food for him before ducking back beyond his unnerving gaze. God of Life and benevolent granter of healing or not, they did not want to learn of what a god’s wrath could bring should he become cross with them. Some had already witnessed what those regal horns could do when wielded against one of the mindless monsters of the Underdrey; they did not merely bequeath life. So honor was given to Xerneas, as well as fear; at the very least, they did not want to lose his blessings of health and life, and so they granted the noble horned monster his desired space. While the followers of the god of life seemed numerous, some wished death. Too old or too weak but when the time came their kin begged for prolonging. On the opposite end of the spectrum, Yveltal's numbers dwindled and only the god seemed to grow fatter, but the survivors were brutish warriors with minds as corrupt as the shadow they hailed beneath. Centuries passed this way, with Xerneas staying near his lake, healing those he found or those who came to him in their time of need, while Yveltal’s pack grew strong beyond the range of Xerneas’ care. But as always happens with a growing army-those worthy to live- led by a fearless, brutal God of Death, territories expand. Little by little, the followers of Yveltal came into contact with those who had been blessed by Xerneas, and unease arose. Those who lived under the harsh grip of a god who would eat them for showing a moment’s weakness looked wonderingly at others; whose god gifted the weak with newfound life and strength. If anything can undermine the hold of a dictator who rules by fear, it is jealousy, and longing. Those of Yveltal’s pack who felt themselves upon the edge of the Cull fled, until nearly no pack remained. They entered the realm of Xerneas and those under his protection. But the God of Death was close behind them, as death seems to trail, and revelled in the richness of Xerneas’ realm. There was much to hunt, much to drink, and best of all, the denizens were not warriors, and were easy pickings when the red god raised his fearsome claws and took their lives within himself. The proud horned god was appalled at the tales the newcomers and his own adopted children told of the oncoming pack and its leader of ruthless Death, and the icy beast bellowed out a challenge to his crimson counterpart. The caverns of the Underdrey echoed with the pulse of his call, and all went still at the sound of his anger and outrage. But when an answering cry, bold and full of rage and confidence, echoed back in acceptance the denizens of the Underdrey broke into frantic movement. The Gods now knew of each other, and did not like what they had learned. Life and Death should never meet face to face, not in combat, but those that embodied them within the Underdrey were now rushing forth from their homes, and all in their way fled in fear of the clash that was to come. It would soon be learned that in a struggle of life and death equality reigns and that a duel between them would never end until one eliminated the other and destroyed the Drey. They could not live without eachother. The two gods confronted in a wide underground plain, a lush vista surrounded by mature trees and fed by sparkling streams and rivers. Yveltal stood, pelt fiercely red, onyx horns and claws poised proudly, a pack of able warriors standing at his back and flanking the clearing with roaring snarls and foam leaking from their maws. Unafraid, Xerneas entered the plains alone to finish the disturbance. Even the boldest inhabitants of his realm were hidden far behind him under the cover of the trees, most having long since fled to preserve their own lives from the upcoming conflict and the approach of a God of Death and some throwing themselves to his waiting claws, finally finding solitude. Those who remained had faith in the power of their God of Life, but the God of Death had an army at his disposal, and could steal the essence of life itself with just a touch, or even just a gaze. Could their god restore his own mortality as he’d done for so many of their kin? Few lingered to learn the answer. There was nothing for the rival gods to say; each had learned of the other through their followers, and both had become so enraged at the other’s audacity and supposed crimes that neither had the capacity remaining for discussion. A warning growl from Yveltal echoed through the plateau, signalling for his pack to stay back and out of his way, before he charged forward at Xerneas. The horned mutant pawed at the ground and lunged with a screaming bellow, akin to a ram, dropping his head and leading with his beautiful, deadly crest. There was a thunderous rush of wind as the two monsters barrelled for the middle of the field. The anticipated, bone-shattering crack to follow did not come as expected. The swift and cunning Yveltal, experienced in battle, knew better than to let the bony mass meet his flesh. He dodged up and to the side, raking at the taller Xerneas with the claws upon his hind feet and tail in a well-timed kick. Pass after pass, the two gods flung their bodies and magic at each other, tearing up the ground around them until the grassy plain began to resemble the foothills of a fresh mountain range. Silver and black blood splashed at the drey, causing dead trees to spring up and long-passed skeletons burst up from the crust only to fall to dust once more. The peaceful followers of Xerneas, those that dared to remain, quickly left their hiding places in the forest rimming the battlefield, making full speed for distant caverns. Even the followers of Yveltal darted, taking cover at the far side of the clearing, lest they be caught in the violent magics and upheavals of the ground around the duelling titans. The vicious feud betwixt the bringers of Life and Death overflowed until the drey itself reflected their fury. The flat terrain shook and shattered, swallowing the streams beyond the fight; the lake that Xerneas had made his solitude bubbled and boiled into steam that rolled through the caverns far from the battlefield. It turned to underground rain that ripped at the trees; the twinkling stars came crashing down around the beasts until the knolls beneath were dried and brittle, shrinking away from the battle as the titanic beasts scorned each other. A deep crater formed around the pair as their paws sculpted hatred in a deadly tango, their minds snared in combat. And just when it seemed like the battle would never cease, a shuddering silence fell over them as a great roar drowned out the berating grunts and snarls. An invisible mist travelled from afar and passed through their minds, slowly unhooking their psyche and snapping their fevered state into a humble calm. The revived followers of Xerneas peeked from their caverns and the mighty warriors of Yveltal cautiously peered soon after, equally afraid and banning together beyond the battlements, all of them weak in the presence of the twisted gods. The two warring beasts glared at each other, panting, their violence temporarily quelled. The thin fog turned their heads, a backshattering weight of humility breathing into the cavern as a jubilated guardian crested the peak of their crater. Cloaked in green and black, bathed in the light from her eyes, she stood upon the slope that had raised itself in an effort to flee the very drey upon which the blood had spilled and pooled in perfectly circled puddles, equally silver, equally black. Her eyes were a mix of emotions, a rainbow of hatred and scorn, disturbance, sadness and understanding. But it was the light haloing her body that sent the pulsating beams of calm and demanded attention. Atop her shoulders was a mighty plume, shimmering immensely with eye-spots of green, marking her nobility and wisdom. She fanned her bone-like wings as she descended, serpentine as she moved. Though in height she matched both life and death her plume made her seem as wide as Yveltal and as tall as Xerneas. She moved evenly at her own pace, her silence the most deafening roar of all as the finite sound she had created before bounced back off the distant walls. No words were spoken and she turned, heralding them to follow behind with a gesture of her head. She sought council with those she had heard of, those whose tipping of the mortal scales had upset the Underdrey and forced her intervention. They moved from the plain to a great crevice of crystal, where the mighty river had once flowed. Following her guidance in silence, they finally halted away from ears and eyes in the belly of the riverbed where the crystals looked like stars and jagged spines of black rock jutted from the walls to pierce anyone who moved too quickly to ribbons. She was Zygarde, the voice of Draiah herself within these deep lands, and the pain and upheaval brought by the conflict between Yveltal and Xerneas had called her forth from her slumber. For many days and nights the three gods of the Underdrey spoke, Yveltal boasting of how sensible and rational it was for him to cull the weak, for in their deaths they took away the flaws of his pack, and made the survivors stronger. Xerneas countered that his mercy and healing were verily more stupendious, for none should be deemed a lost cause and summarily snuffed from the world, not when they could yet be saved. Around and around the arguments went, like a cycle; Yveltal asserting that Xerneas was wasting his time and his efforts on the weak, where they could instead be used to further aid the strong and worthy and Xerneas rebutting that Yveltal had no right to decide who was worthy, that all had a right to health and happiness without having someone snatch their life away. Tensions rose again, and the threat of renewed combat was imminent but the onyx spears did not allow them to leave council with Zygarde barring the only way out. Neither of the two gods was superior, neither was lesser, but both existed in imperfect balance, each insisting that his way was the only true one, the only right one. When the green guardian had at last had her fill of their words, when light from the suns and moons shone equally over all the Underdrey and sent a shaft of light even into this shadowed place, she finally spoke. Life and Death both had their places, she asserted. All lives must eventually come to an end, and in some cases, it could be a nobler mercy than prolonging a broken existence. But that did not mean that life should cease with every ailment, not when full strength and productivity could be returned to the weary one. Thus, injury and weakness should not automatically lead to death; but in the same way, those who could not live in full happiness should not be forced to continue with false blessings that dwell in agony. The two feuding gods stared at the wise guardian in contemplation, listening for the first time in days after all they had done was speak in anger and rage. Gradually, their gazes met. Neither agreed with the other, not truly, but perhaps a compromise could still be wedged between the spiral of hatred; a green sword that cut off the heads of the blue and red hydra. Yveltal still believed that all who showed weakness were better off with their remaining strength offered back to him, to be assimilated into the strength of his pack as a whole, rather than hobbling it with their infirmities. Xerneas could not agree that inflicting death intentionally upon the weak or ailing was ever an option, but in his heart he knew that his gift had at time prolonged suffering and it pained him. The horned God of Life was the first to turn away. “I give the Judgment to you, then, Zygarde,” he murmured. “For I will not be a cause or a witness to the taking of life from my children for any reason. But I do hear the wisdom of your words, and I will not stand in your way.” The green guardian then looked to the red god, awaiting his response. The Keeper of Life had acknowledged her wisdom, but what of the Keeper of Death? The crimson mutant nodded begrudgingly to Zygarde as he watched his rival move off, allowed to slip behind Zygarde. “I accept as well. Do not hesitate to call upon my...particular talents. I will gladly oblige. Affirm that horned one attends to the needs of my pack instead of disappearing into his lake, and my claws will be yours.” In this way, it was decided that Draiah’s chosen guardian, Zygarde, would become the leader both packs, united, and the lands of Yveltal and Xerneas would be combined into one similarly. Much would continue as it was, with Yveltal and his strong warriors protecting the lands, while Xerneas tended to the health of all and passed his teachings to a chosen few. The circle of life, simple yet profound: a quite straightforward line that moved around and round round. It moved in balance under the rulings of Zygarde, who watched over all of the pack. She would be the one to decide whom her right paw, Xerneas would rescue from a terrible fate; and who her left paw, Yveltal, would be granted to snuff out in an act of mercy or balance. And so the union of the guardian and the rival gods began. Thus a vast pack of mutants led by the gods of the Underdrey was formed, and to this day they still maintain balance in the world of monsters. But beware their passing, for the only thing that stands between a lively stranger and death at the claws of Yveltal is the judgement of Zygarde. Voice actor: The Guardian Theme song: Angel of Darkness Lyrics Quote: "The serpent is the most unrelenting beast of all the lands. One can only dodge its fangs for so long. It is a kindness that its venom kills so fast." Plots: [AI=http://i55.photobucket.com/albums/g129/Rei-Azalia/z_zps1bfe69c0.jpg]
Edited by rei-azalia, Jan 27 2016, 10:42 AM.
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8:52 PM Jul 10