Disclaimer: The following information, while ICly presented, may not be OOCly accurate. If you have questions about Youma, half-Youma, and their truths as part of the shop, please PM the mule or check out their respective threads here! Now read on and enjoy the Negaverse's first Youminar!
If your Nega is in Witzend, there will be a video feed that they can watch remotely!
Table of Contents 1. Why Youma are Better 2. Why Youma are Useful 3. Youma Basics: Feral, Humanoid and Greater 4. Youma Basics: Personal Youma and Bonding 5. The Rift 6. Full Youma Creation 7. Youma Purification 8. Half-Youma, History, and the Curse 9. Establishing Perspective on Half-Youma 10. Youma Stigma and how Half-Youma Fit in the Negaverse 11. A Taste of Youma Abilities, Physiological Changes 12. More on Youma Bonding
Posted: Fri Apr 05, 2019 9:02 pm
Opening
Dim was the room, with crystalline clusters gathering about a natural shelf that formed the amphitheater-esque stage. Ovoid in shape, that room was wide and tall enough to accumulate misty motes in its corners, dimming observance of the its very edges. It claimed an ambience that expected somber awe of its inhabitants.
Rippling out from the stage and arranged in neat rows were benches, armchairs, stools, and other mismatched seating to suit their audience. Double doors ringed by stalactites marked the entrance, farthest from the stage, and Faustite's firefly squid lingered at those doors. As officers and senshi arrived, the orange-lit youma wibbled an arm toward one of the rows or aisles in a demonstrably ill-thought-out and ineffectual seating arrangement. Eventually the chairs were full of all sorts. Perhaps someone's view was blocked by a giant of a person, or they were seated next to an unsavory, drooling youma.
For those viewing remotely, crystal-bolstered cameras sent out a protected feed to a few MAC addresses in Witzend, England. Those interested would need to huddle together to view the grainy footage, now focused on a half-intact, burning creature.
The crystal underlighting left the place a ghastly purple but for Faustite's fire. The general approached the podium, and when ey spoke, eir voice carried with ease afforded by acoustics.
"You're here because youma fascinate you. Because youma disgust you. Because you find them obedient, subhuman things. Because you find them beautiful. Because you know they're innumerable in the Rift. Because you see them as stepping stones to your ambition. Because you see them as nothing at all.
"You're here because you know nothing about them. You're here because we know nothing about them," ey finished, opening arms wide for a moment, "and it's time we learn.
"I am Youma General Faustite and this is the first Negaverse seminar on Youma and Youmafied Officers. Please welcome our first guest speaker, General Wolfeite, who will explain why youma are worth your consideration." Hands clasped behind eir lower back, Faustite stepped to stage left of the podium.
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Posted: Fri Apr 05, 2019 9:03 pm
Why Youma are Better
He stood at the front of the room without a trace of hesitance or shyness about him, Wolfeite’s ears fully upright, the mask still covering the lower half of his face so that his voice came out slightly muffled. His uniform was as ragged as ever, nothing like the clean cut, pristinely worn layers of some of the generals or captains that milled about Negaspace, though a handful of medals still glittered on his chest; it was almost a mockery, somehow, in comparison to his ripped coat.
“Youma are almost universally underestimated, he said flatly, and his voice was something rangy and low, almost a growl; a guttural, inhuman thing. “They are treated as second class citizens within the Negaverse, in spite of the fact that their abilities and their knowledge tend to far outstrip that of the lower ranks. Especially those who are new to the Negaverse,” he added, with a tone of distaste. “The greenhorns who believe themselves to be capable of doing things far beyond their intelligence.”
His tail gave an idle flick behind him, Wolfeite’s clawed hands tucking against the small of his back as he paced to one side, steps slow and certain.
“In spite of these foolish notions, the youma of the Negaverse are far more superior than their human counterparts. They are capable of great strength, greater talents, and most have the presence of mind to understand and strengthen these talents and their intelligences. There are, of course exceptions - “ He said the word with dripping disdain on every syllable. “ - but they are few and far between and should not be taken into account.”
Wolfeite stopped pacing, and his head lifted, golden eyes glowing slightly in the black pits that surrounded them. There was something almost entirely feral about the gaze as he let it sweep over their people in front of him, and behind the mask, his lips curved into a wide, toothy, manic grin, unseen and unnoticed.
“It would do everyone well,” he said. “To stop underestimating the youma. We are stronger than you think.”
And so hungry for more.
Wolfeite’s hands fell back to his sides. He gave a little flick of one, ear twitching, a dismissive gesture.
“Take from that what you will,” he said, and stepped down.
Faustite stepped forward in Wolfeite's absence. Jaw tighter, ey paced emself deliberately. Ey opened eir mouth, paused, then relented with a simple "thank you, General.
"Our next speaker, Euphoria, will explain the uses of youma."
Posted: Fri Apr 05, 2019 9:03 pm
Why Youma are Useful
A youma seminar - how quaint!
When Euphoria had caught wind that such an endeavor was going to take place, she knew she would certainly have to take part in it. Too many agents failed to see the usefulness of her kind and it would be up to intelligent youma like herself to shine some light in the poor monsters’ directions.
Which was how she found herself managing to acquire a speaking role in said seminar -- delightful!
Despite her mistress’s insistence that she was more show than tell, the dainty flower youma was more than enthusiastic about joining the team of speakers. Her nose wrinkled when she saw that not all of them were like her - clearly some of these humans felt they were experts on her kind but she wasn’t going to judge… at least, not until she heard whatever they had to say, first.
Pale feet stepped up towards the podium as lilac eyes set across to face their audience. It didn’t matter the number, not if she could at least convince one person out there the importance of her race and what they meant to their glorious cause.
“My name is Euphoria,” she said loud and clearly, a smile curling up on the sides of her mouth, “And I am a youma.”
Obvious statement was obvious but she allowed a moment for the knowledge to sink in.
“While I’ve been out and about in your world, I have rarely come across others from my world with you and I feel that it’s a tragic shame.”
One hand coyly rose to rest on her chest, gesturing up at her own presence.
“You roam the world in search of energy for our beloved ruler but you’re going out and making it so much harder for yourself than it needs to be, truly.” Eyelashes batted and her smile grew wider. “One short trip to the Rift is all that it takes for you to find a companion to help you along on your journey.”
Lifting her hand from her chest, she stepped to the side. Fingers playfully wiggled and roots began sprouting from the ground at her command, entwining beneath her legs until they’d formed a proper chair for her to sit down on. One leg crossed over the other, Euphoria now perched and looking quite pleased with herself.
“You may not have magic like your enemies but some of us do and we’d be happy to assist you in your goals if you simply bring us out of the shadows and into the world with you. We aren’t very useful to the great Metallia lurking in the Rift - we thrive where we’re needed most and it seems many agents have forgotten how much they need us to succeed.”
Hands clapped against one another before she rested them on her knee, the monster clearly very excited at the thought. “I absolutely love going out into the world and seeing new things -- I’m very helpful to my Mistress and can fetch a good several energy orbs in an hour’s time. It’s a waste of resources not to let youma like myself out -- tell me, is it really worth all that extra effort by doing it alone?”
As the roots slowly began to fade, she was set back down to her feet, her floral cape rustling behind her as she finished up her not-exactly-informative-and-probably-not-very-convincing speech.
"Humans have guard dogs for a reason -- so why aren't you utilizing your version of guard dogs? There are ample youma in the Rift at your disposal and it seems like an atrocious waste that most of us have yet to see what it's like out there in the world - your world - where we could be used to an agent's advantage."
Nodding her head, she clapped her hands a second time and offered a final smile.
"But I'm babbling at this point. I would like to thank you all for your time and once all of my... colleagues are finished with their presentations, I would be happy to address any questions."
Faustite clapped with the audience as Euphoria returned to her seat. "She raises a good point," he volunteered, studying the forefront onlookers queerly. "One we will examine again -- in different light -- later."
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Posted: Fri Apr 05, 2019 9:04 pm
Youma Basics: Feral, Humanoid, and Greater
"Second of our teachers is an officer who served the Negaverse for nearly a decade: General Moonstone." Faustite motioned with a black hand toward the podium as the named general stepped forward.
She had long prepared for the seminar, uniform and medals exacting. Rank was often afterthought for the Haida general, but as she was a guest speaker for General Faustite's seminar, presentation was everything. Metallia's medal glinted on her breast under a ten-year service medal, two more conspicuous than others for size and rarity; they would listen, for love of knowledge, respect towards rank, fear of Name, or some mixture of all of the above.
"I am General Moonstone. I am here to speak about personal youma types, acquisition, and to show examples of the most common kinds in the flesh." Here Moonstone stepped forward, hands clasped behind her back as her eyes searched those gathered for their attention.
"There are three subtypes of youma in the service of Metallia. Feral youma are the most prevalent and also what most of you will come to bond with as your personal youma when you enter the Rift at your captaincy. Most are utilized as low-level, disposable canon-fodder, but they can be much more than that. Even though they are often beastial in nature, it would be unwise to discount their innate intelligence or savagery." Moonstone had never agreed with the idea that the feral youma were too stupid to carry out more complex tasks - they simply required training and time to do so, which officers often were loathe to put in when they could seek out a newly minted lieutenant or humanoid youma instead.
"This," Moonstone said, summoning a mid-sized piscine youma from the Rift to her side, "Is a feral youma. There are no typical specimen, as they come in all shapes and sizes, so understand that you will hardly see the same thing twice without trying." Turning to the beast, she murmured softly in another language, not meant for those attending, soothing the creature so that it settled into a gentle bobbing as she turned back to the attendees, "Feral youma are like young children. Give them simple, clear commands and keep to the necessary only."
"It is important to know that any youma will respond to the orders of any officer higher in rank so long the officer is stronger than they are, so you must be careful too what you bring out of the Rift. This goes for personally bonded youma as well, though the bond they have with individual officers does allow them some additional freedoms." The creature floated strangely at her side, eyeless and covered in scales; instead of fins long tubes like hollow bones covered in fine velvet splayed in urchin bursts, spiderine limbs a horror that Lovecraft fans would have been delighted with. Moonstone lifted her hand to pat the beast in the flat, bony space between where one would expect eyes. "Each feral youma will have different abilities - select those that will best suit your operation. If you don't know what your operation will need, go with brute force, fire, or some sort of restraint-based abilities."
Another pat for the current youma was given, then she expended the energy to summon up a second youma. This one of the humanoid variety; humanoid in that it was roughly person shaped but also had the unfortunate look of a carved turnip with an egg whisk as it's upper head and vaguely glistening roots for limbs. It chittered at the attendees unpleasantly, rasping out a greeting to the general that summoned it. "Geeeeeneraaaaaal." Each syllable was hissed, the voids of it's eyes flicking from Moonstone to Faustite to each other officer, senshi, and Mauvian in turn before returning to the Haida general. "Youuuuuuuuuu hafffffffe neeeeeed offfff meeeeee?"
"You will stand and represent your kind while I speak." Moonstone waited only long enough for the creature to bow obediently to her will before continuing once more, "Humanoid youma like this one are most often used in Metallia's service by our officers for missions as opposed to the feral's prevalent use in battles. The humanoid youma of the Rift have intelligence, skills, and abilities on par with your own - indeed, they were once some of our very own, so do not make the mistake of dismissing them lightly."
"Many officers find them quite suitable as personal youma due to their ability to be given complex commands and follow a mission through without needing monitoring each moment." Here the creature flashed void in it's maw, dark and flickering past strange youma-fire. "Due to the fact that they are able to reason and have goals of their own, humanoid youma can sometimes be more difficult to obtain as personal youma than some ferals, unless you are able to make an offer they find appealing, in which case it may be easier." Moonstone stood between the two youma, looking out towards her audience with a solemn expression.
"A third sort also exists, deep within the Rift. the Greater youma. They are rare and ancient and you pray you do not meet them in the Rift. You cannot bond with them, nor reason with them. They do not follow our chain of command, only the Will and Word of Metallia."
Posted: Fri Apr 05, 2019 9:05 pm
Youma Basics: Personal Youma and Bonding
Moonstone summoned a third youma from the Rift, not the terrible Greater youma she'd mentioned - for that was impossible - but her own personal youma, Wasgo.
Wasgo dwarfed both the feral and the humanoid youma, the energy signature coming off him heavy and thick with two c's. He was, after all, a general's bonded - fed and fattened on the unique back-and-forth that connected the two and allowed him to grow as she ranked up. The feral bumped into Wasgo, floating away with a disgruntled squeak while the massive beast shifted with a heavy creak and looked to those gathered with a curious, dog-like cocking of it's head.
"This is Wasgo, my personal youma. When you gain your captaincy, you will have proven yourself worthy enough to the Negaverse and Metallia to have earned the right to enter the Rift alone. It is not necessarily the best idea to do so as you are one fragile human against the entire Rift, but that is your choice. In the Rift you may find your personal youma and bond it to you. There are many ways, you will find the way that is right for you - some do it by force, in battle. Some with trickery or bribe. Some actively over-feed friends or family starseeds until they become youma, binding their loved ones to them for eternity."
"I went out hunting for Wasgo. Wasgo is, as you can probably tell just from looking at him, a feral type youma, though he is quite large for a feral. I had seen him in the Rift and knew he was waiting for me. I went out, tracked him, and hunted him. We were meant to be partners, there was no need for trickery or bribery on my part, though he did test me to see that I was worthy. " The capsule version, because these would not understand when she said that Crow had told her Wasgo waited in the dark for her, or that he'd been made just for her so long ago. That was just neither for them, nor necessary storytelling, so Moonstone tucked it tightly to her breast and carried on, voice strong and clear.
"Regardless of your method, it is a permanent bond that you make. It is strong to start, it grows ever stronger as your partnership lengthens." Moonstone had her hands up on Wasgo's face, fingers tracing the strange carving-like fissures in it's 'skin' with a fond look on her face; as tall as she was, she was made delicate and small by her youma.
"There is a down-side." Moonstone stepped forward again, Wasgo's feet planted where they touched the flooring as though he'd grown from the ground and was part of the room even though he seemed to vibrate with wont to move. The other two youma shifted and fidgetted, untrained and undisciplined but still obediently waiting to be dismissed by the dark haired woman before disappearing - they'd not leave until given leave to do so. "When you have such a strong bond, there is always a down-side. Should your personal youma be defeated in combat, you will suffer terrible sickness and pains until it reforms in the Rift. For some, it can simply be an unpleasant thing. There are those among our ranks that do not bond so deeply with their youma, that see them only as tools rather than extensions of themselves. But for all, it ends the same and after many years, the strength of the bond progresses until their death is akin to dying yourself."
"I cannot recommend it. And if you are careless enough to allow your personal youma to be destroyed by a Princess or Prince, never to rise from the Rift again? I do not think unassisted recovery is possible, after a point. Perhaps with Metallia's aid." Or something Else. She didn't know, to be sure, but was fairly certain she'd not survive such a thing happening to Wasgo. Being turned into a youma herself would likely be the way to go, at that point. Having Wasgo temporarily dusted was bad enough to put her down hard for days if she let it, the depression and despondency that crept in and enveloped her, engulfing. No, it was best if they learn to avoid it from the start, to treat their youma not as disposable fodder, but as a more precious resource. Expendable, yes, but not paper to be burnt at a moment's notice.
"If you have questions, I will do my best to answer them. Also, if you would like to come closer to inspect any of these youma, I will return them to the Rift after. Keep you guard up with them, only Wasgo is completely under my control."
Okay, so it had been a bit rough, but. Mostly she'd done well; at the least she'd presented information and shown examples. Given her warnings, made her point. If they listened or not...that was up to each person on their own, not her.
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Posted: Fri Apr 05, 2019 9:05 pm
The Rift
"Thank you, General." Faustite nodded to Moonstone as she returned to her seat, and smatterings of applause died down to stillness.
No speaker rose yet. Contrary to the winding in eir gut, Faustite crossed before the podium again and looked out to the crowd, eir gaze combing near and far for dissonance, boredom, excitement. Ey let that silence simmer for a beat. Smoke washed each sentence spoken. "The Rift," Faustite echoed, gaze following after Moonstone. "The single place in our purview where youma number into infinity. Where they live and flourish beyond human means.
"Only captains and higher, Generals like Moonstone, can reach the Rift alone. All lieutenants and corrupted senshi require a chaperone, or the guardians in the Hall of Shadows will take them." That she could stay and touch its hand -- Faustite's burning gaze shut a moment, looking inward, before ey continued. "Once in the Hall or beyond, teleportation is impossible. Everyone relies on their feet.
"You find the Rift by walking through the Hall of Shadows, descending the stairs, and exiting to the top of a hill. You'll see a colosseum, where youma will flock if you bring starseeds. Beyond that, a tower with an old throne room. Beyond that, ancient city ruins. Beyond that, twisted facsimiles of things you recognize: rivers of sludge and poison, clawing peaks, crystal-dotted valleys and hillocks, enormous sinkholes, distant mountains made out of a sleeping greater youma's carapace. And above it all, a twilit falsehood of a sky.
"The Rift will provide nothing to you. No food grows there, no clean water flows, no shelter is safe. It is a wilderness to officers and a training ground where the bravest cut their teeth. It is where most of you will go -- or have gone -- to bond with youma. It is meant for them alone.
"Vitriol will tell you more." Faustite stepped aside.
A lieutenant stepped forward dressed in a mix of a black and gray military uniform though that would hardly be of note among their tail, ears, and oversized clawed hands. Short of stature, the half youma stared out with yellow eyes and took a breath to clear its nerves.
“As you know, the Rift is home to the youma of the Negaverse. While most of the former buildings are in ruin or too dangerous to even visit, it should still be considered a place that youma call their own and given a degree of respect. For hundreds of years, the members here have worked to build this place somewhere they can live and thrive. While feral youma inhabit the caves and crevices, the rest have claimed old buildings and even have built their own homes. There are towns in the Rift along with places to keep a sense of the lives these once-people had. I have only once had the privilege of being in the Sobbing Orphan Tavern owned and ran by youma but that was only a very rare opportunity in which agents were allowed. Not all of them are to be considered crazed beasts trotting about the landscape but knights like you who had worked hard to stand by the principles of Earth. Please show a degree of respect for them and do not treat them all as pets, playthings, or lesser.
The towns the youma have created are a place they continue their lives outside of patrols and being your partners. It is not a place for you, regardless of how curious or entitled in your rank you feel, to go into unannounced and without permission. Trespassing into someone's home will still meet the same hostility as if I walked into your house unannounced. This place, the Rift, is their place. You are a guest here. This is the place they have worked for years to return what they have lost and be close to each other. It might not look as glamorous and sparkling bright as the skyscraper and townhouses of Destiny City, but it is theirs. Please do not come here with the mindset that you own anything or can create issues. There won't be much mercy if you do and youma do talk. This is your partner's home and world. Be mindful.”
Faustite tilted eir head toward the seminar chairs and the youma lieutenant scurried off to reseat itself. Only a few speakers remained; a fifteen minute break was granted, interlude to stretch legs and percolate on what was said, before those speakers would share their thinkpieces.
Posted: Fri Apr 05, 2019 9:06 pm
Full Youma Creation
After the break concluded, Faustite reclaimed the podium from eir bubbling, drifting youma. It slithered arms around eir neck and sat on pipes before a withering look sent it skulking back to the double doors. Ey raised a hand, spared a moment for the chatty to settle. "We've now learned why youma are useful, what types exist, where they live, and from whom they're made. But how are they made? General Benitoite has very personal experience with this. He will share it with us now -- along with its cautions." Faustite stepped aside and motioned for the next speaker to join them.
Till now the General had sat in his seat, behind the podium, listening as others spoke. Not much for emotion had been displayed, though he had been polite and clapped when appropriate, it wasn't until he was standing up that any emotion really showed. He wasn't nervous, not really, he'd been running this over and over in his head for days now. He was sort of...proud in an odd way, proud because he had information that most likely didn't. He could help, a bit, in teaching something to others.
As he came to stand in front of the podium, giving it a glare for being as tall as it was, he wondered if there wasn't something around which he could stand on. He was too damn short for this.
Deciding rather to stand next to the podium, rather than be mostly hidden by it, he took a moment to look over those collected in front of him. "Some of you may already know me, others may not, I am General Benitoite. I've been asked here to speak on the topics of creating youma and personal youma. Creating youma is something few today have hands on experience with, which is to be expected as we have more than enough youma surrounding us. I will say now that I did not seek to create my own youma; it simply happened. The reason behind why I did it isn't necessary so I'll go right to how a youma is created." He wasn't going to take the time to explain the whole issue, and argument, between himself and Bazzite and him snapping under emotional pressure, they did not need to know that. It lacked any real useful information.
"Normally when we go in for a persons starseed it is to pluck it from their chest, they provide a good deal of energy. However, in the case of creating a youma we don't remove the starseed. In my case I was seeking to power up a Captain who wished for me to make them a General. Not knowing I was unable to, and unaware of what would happen, I caved to the officers demands. As you would with corrupting you would push energy into the starseed. The same is the case here only the starseed will shatter and your hand will be locked into the persons chest. I felt his shattered starseed in my hand, the pieces like bits of glass, even as he screamed and his body writhed in agony under me - I couldn't remove my hand." He could still remember it. It was something that was impossible to forget, he doubted anyone who may do as he had done would ever forget it either. It was a gruesome and very strange feeling as well as horrifying, very horrifying.
"The body will change - snaps, pops, cracks, and other sounds. I can only compare it to watching a werewolf movie and watching the change from human to werewolf. All the bones rearranging, lengthening, shrinking, taking new positions, and such.” Although it was the best he could use to compare the change to, werewolves, it didn't feel like it was on the same level. But maybe it was just because he'd lived through one thing and not the other. It didn't matter really. He was doing his best to give people an idea, he just hoped people understood.
Biting on his bottom lip he took a moment to pause, he did need to breath after all, and ran his fingers through his ashen hair.
"The change from human to youma is more than just physical, as you should expect. A youma is a youma and we all know what youma are like. The memories and feelings the person had are stripped away. They may remember likes, dislikes, maybe some other things as well...but most of the emotions from those memories do not remain. Bazzite remembered I liked flowers, and commented that I often smelled like them, but didn't remember other things about me. He didn't remember his civilian life or his life as an officer. The memories were scattered, what he did and did not remember. As an officer he might have felt fear of a battle, and not wanted to engage in a fight, he was more than willing to as a youma and was more prone to anger and rage - both feelings he was unfamiliar with as a civilian and officer. So some past memories he did not feel anger towards he now did...senshi and knights he'd had fights with, or that I'd encountered, he now had a hatred of which he'd not previous had. It did take time to get used to the change - as it was so drastic and sudden. I don't believe it was the same for him...because the previous was wiped away...so there was no need to adjust." That was something any officer who made a youma would need to handle, the adjustment to the changes. They were not little changes and they were so sudden - too sudden. It had off balanced him and left him uncaring of Bazzite for some time, something he'd made up for later on.
"For Bazzite and myself the bond was strong....I can't say if it's the same, or in some way different, from the bond other officers share with their personal youma. Because I made him it may be different...I have nothing to compare it to. But it is strong. While he would have to take orders from those out ranking me he did not have to take orders from another General, he had a choice. He could, and did, ask my opinion and permission. Again, I don't know if this is the same for other personal youma." For anyone lower in rank than himself it was the same as with another General, obviously, he didn't have to do a damn thing if he didn't want to. He was his own youma, well sort of. He had a master but he had enough freedom to tell others 'no'. He had some amount of independence.
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Posted: Fri Apr 05, 2019 9:06 pm
Youma Purification
"Now, I'm sure some of you have noticed that I've been speaking in past tense. That is because Bazzite is no longer around. He wasn't killed, that would take a Royal to do, instead he was purified into a knight. It would seem the senshi, in groups, now have the power to purify youma. I was there to see it and yet was unable to do a single thing. Bazzite in a moment of clarity wanted it, how he had such a moment I will leave for personal discussions if anyone wishes to know, but out numbered and cut off from Bazzite the moment their magic started to work I was brought to my knees." Which was no easy task. He'd been dealt his fair share of pain...but nothing like that night. "The bond I mentioned earlier....started to be pulled and broken. You might think I'm making it sound more than it is but it kept me from powering up for over a week. The bond between youma and master is that strong and when broken does cause great pain. I do not know what it did to Bazzite - I didn't have time to see." He knew his words must sound weak, perhaps an excuse as to why he was simply not strong enough to save his youma. But they had not been there and had not felt the immense, excruciating, pain he had felt. To be brought down so easily, and quickly, had been eye opening and left him vulnerable in those moments.
"I will conclude by saying this. Our Queen Laurelite is aware of what happened to Bazzite and has told me to not seek his elimination. He is not to be sought out and killed. She wishes him to be brought back into the fold - as an officer, if at all possible. As I said...there is a reason for his moment of clarity which led to him asking senshi to purify him. That same reason is why she does not seek for him to be killed as a traitor."
That all finished, and feeling he'd done his job, he took a moment before bowing once and moving towards his seat. He knew there may be questions later, people approaching him, but he was somehow ok with it. He had to be. He had put all this out there and offered himself up for private conversation. These weren't the same people as in the past and time had moved on, a lot of time. This wasn't the same as back in the past.
Posted: Fri Apr 05, 2019 9:06 pm
Half-Youma, History, and the Curse
Faustite returned after Benitoite stepped down, hard lines chafing at the corners of eir mouth before they guttered to a cool neutral. I'm tired of people not knowing the volume of their power. Eir solar plexus blazed and only shadow figments of hands were visible behind the cage.
Faustite drew another breath, changed direction. "We act -- we choose, we fight, we plan, we survive, and from those actions came partial youmafication. Half monster, all of us. Half cursed." The word snarled, Faustite paused in step and thumped the hollow podium with a fist.
Eir emphasis simmered. "Strange that our power, borrowed from Metallia, makes monsters of men. Have you thought about it?" The youma general began a slow, methodical pace. "Why do we twist our subordinates' bodies if we try to promote them ourselves? Why do youma merge with us? Why do we youmafy if we eat too many starseeds?
"Why do we need to take starseeds if they youmafy us when we eat them? Why do we need to gather energy, the 'safer' alternative? Why do we have an infinite number of youma if every. last. one. was once a person? Did they all eat starseeds to become what they are or was it something more malevolent than an accident? Than simply trying to survive?
"I ask again: have you thought about it?" Silence filtered in -- wary. Heavy.
"Half cursed," ey echoed. A hand waved out toward the speaker seats. "General Wolfeite, Vitriol and I paid out half our humanity while gathering energy, starseeds; while staying alive, while fighting for the cause. We were officers like some of you: we spent our lives between social pursuits and this secret war. We had families, goals, interests, hobbies, careers. Then we youmafied, and all of that went up in smoke." Fingers snapped and soot billowed out of eir pipes and core in great helical gouts. Faustite stepped away from it as contrails held fast to eir shoulders. "Is that coincidence? Is it a moral judgment? Is it a mistake?"
"No." Faustite stopped, shifted toward the audience. "Everything I mentioned -- energy gathering, starseed gathering, the power behind promotions and corruptions, starseed consumption -- connects to youma. Youma are made from it or served by it. Made from faulty promotions like Benitoite's, served by energy like Wasgo, made from starseed consumption like me, served by starseed gathering like Euphoria. My point is that youma are intrinsically tied to the Negaverse -- and only the Negaverse. Have you thought about it? Have you asked yourself why?
"The reason is an old one, older than most of our youma. It's as old as this war." Faustite smiled mirthlessly. "Near the start of this war, when men revolted against the prince's union with his moonborn witch, an organized force reached the prince's stronghold. They poised like a knife over that union. The Moon Queen sundered them with her magic, cast their kingdom under, shattered their starseeds, bent their bodies into the youma we know today. Those who couldn't survive became the stony specters that greet you when you visit the Rift. This I learned from Youma Queen Tanzanite.
"But this is what she didn't teach -- what I gathered from the evidence around us. The day the Moon Queen struck down that vanguard, she planted a curse. That curse was what corrupted their bodies and broke their starseeds. But those men were Officers, and every Officer partakes in Metallia's power. That power, lent to us, forms a connection with her. That connection delivered the curse straight to Metallia. It tainted the wellspring of her power, and gave every one of us a diluted chance to become youma through our own actions. It's the reason we youmafy when we try to promote each other or when we eat starseeds to survive. It's the reason we gather energy and starseeds: to preserve our youma -- our fallen officers -- and strengthen our Queen against this affliction." Faustite left a pause.
"Every youmafied officer and every youma bears the results of that curse. Every time we stand against senshi, we invalidate that curse. We can make it a point of pride. It can unite us. We can champion what they want you to see as a withering affliction. We, the youmafied and the youma officers, are the ones who stand closest to our silent Queen. We're the creatures held closest to Metallia's breast for the service that inevitably broke our bodies. We still fight after succumbing to that curse. We still fight with everlasting faith."
"I want you to think about the youma -- and youmafied officers -- around you. We wear our allegiance to her in our very existence. We left our lives behind to fight this war for her. For you. That's no mistake."
The youma general's voice carried even as ey stepped away. "General Schörl will now speak on how that curse affects us. How we can survive it -- and how we can learn to accept youmafication." Faustite returned to silence as Schörl joined the stage.
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Posted: Fri Apr 05, 2019 9:07 pm
Establishing Perspective on Half-Youma
“Who are you. You, individually, as a self? Each of you, separate as entities. Each of you faced with each other? Can you define yourselves or each other? Can you give a definition that doesn’t rely on a name?” General Schörl punctuated the question by pulling her pipe from the breast pocket of her uniform and absently, yet precisely, packing it with tobacco.
“What is real?” She tamped the stuff down and drew out matches to set to lighting it ablaze. “A day, a week, a month, a year ago- however long it was, you all knew that Neil Armstrong, Michael Collins, and Buzz Aldrin from the planet Earth first set foot upon the Moon, July 1969 A.D. “
She puffed a few times to establish the ember. Sugared, puffed rings wafted up towards the so called ceiling. “Religions were many and either full of nonsense, curious, or things of devotion that debated life states and souls and the existence of higher powers. History from school taught that one thousand years ago the Song Dynasty advanced China. Bohemia was joining the Holy Roman Empire, Anglo-Saxon Anglia was ruled from Winchester. The Mississippians built complex mounds for their ceremonies in North America. Byzantium barely puttered along as the Eastern Rome. The Buyid of Shia Iran conquered and created their dynasty from a capitol in Shiraz.”
“You are standing in a separate Space to listen to this seminar. Maybe it’s an invisible pocket at the center of the Earth. Maybe it’s just under the sewers of Manhattan, or possibly a separate dimension? Undetectable by current science like the ruins of civilizations we’ve verified in space and the Wonders of Knights here on Earth. This a Kingdom, a united planet Earth, beneath a Hereditary monarchy whose blood no longer even exists to fiction books or dreams. There was a whole monarchy and civilization on the Moon a thousand years ago that was ruled by Queen Serenity. Your awareness of what is or isn’t real has changed. Each one of you, since your starseed was wakened into the Negaverse, has stepped through the inscrutable veil of ‘reality’. First hand knowledge that reality is fluid. This was always true through propaganda, societal conventions, or reputation. Now, ‘Magic,’ with its ability to warp the understanding and perception of masses of lives over eras of time with single spells, stands to reckon with your definition. I ask again, what is real?“
“Reality is fractious and self-constructed. We are likewise. It starts with our names. Each human cultivates their own brand image through what we wear, our furniture, the media we consume, what we show others, where we live and what goals we pursue. These things are our masks that pursue uniformity. Each mask is optimized to our social wants and goals along a cost and benefits analysis. Commercialism exploits these human tendencies: ‘I was the absolute master of my old robe. I have become the slave of the new one...My old robe was one with the other rags that surrounded me. A straw chair, a wooden table, a rug from Bergamo, a wood plank that held up a few books, a few smoky prints without frames, hung by its corners on that tapestry. Between these prints three or four suspended plasters formed, along with my old robe, the most harmonious indigence. All is now discordant. No more coordination, no more unity, no more beauty.’ Denis Diderot knew this for us in the 18th century. “
“The Negaverse gives a new name, a new mask. New you is stronger, faster, better you. This protects your old life from discovery. It lets you act in ways that will not jeopardize other you. Civilian you remains secure in housing, food, money, and social needs beneath the mask of magic. Part of your new understanding are Yōma. The rest of these seminar talks have... enlightened the basics. Good or bad, mistake or upgrade, any officer who undergoes the process of partial or full youmification undergoes a Traumatic Event. Personality and Identity are forcefully rearranged. How a person interacts with, or is prevented from interacting with, the world they have known is shattered. More severely than just having your eyes opened to the war and history beyond the veil, these beings gain features that no longer define as ‘anatomically modern humans’, as homo sapiens. These officers become parahuman. Para-, being the same Ancient Greek as from ‘paranormal’, meaning beside, next to, resembling, from, and beyond. “
“For parahuman officers their negaverse name, their negaverse form, is now the ‘true reality’ of their physical form and starseed. Like Superman, their personal reality of body is different and they are putting on a costume Clark Kent to appear ‘normal’ while the rest of us keep playing Batman. They spend their energy to wear a glamour of a human person for scant hours of the day. Like humans with certain conditions, diseases or circumstances below societal averages, these officers get to weigh what they can do and who with before time runs out and their energy runs out. Are they, therefore, to be treated like, and this is a deliberately antiquated and charged term, Lepers? Judged, ostracized, ignored or actively attacked?” Schörl tilted her cane in her free hand to one diagonal and then the other slowly like a pendulum of time for the seminar. “The truth of Trauma is that many will react exactly so. Movies, Books, Comics, Games, Conversations with your Friends and Family, the History of Western Society, the dehumanisation of Grief- all these and more prime many to the false pretense that healing is best, or desirable, only under the condition that ‘things go back to how they were.’ ‘How it used to be’ when Uncle Bobby was alive and we all used to go fishing every summer, or some equally bucolic fantasy is just that: fantasy. It doesn’t help the parahuman or their teammates to thrive in their new status. The proverbial cup, the vessel of the soul, has been broken. Whether in two or two hundred pieces, it doesn’t partially phase into liquid and unbreak. It cannot mold itself back into a single piece of ceramic. ”
Posted: Fri Apr 05, 2019 9:09 pm
Youma Stigma and how Half-Youma fit in the Negaverse
“Mores, norms and taboos in society mean that very few humans who are not able to see through the veil will accept parahumanism as real. To reveal it to family and friends not enlightened risks forms of imprisonment. The shame of the sideshow freak is alive and well, replete in attics and unmarked graves. Science and governments, Area 51 conspiracy theories aside, love to study and weaponize at the expense of the Individual. Our enemies could sense the aura of a parahuman trying to live openly. To be a parahuman is to lose full, unmitigated access to life and privilege in the human social sector. Officers have skulked in a bitter half-life of ennui in the Rift, or in the Kingdom Halls, convinced that their existence was now suicidally meaningless. Their once lovers and friends have avoided reaching out, for fear of facing the changes, of admitting faults, of having to work through emotional baggage and months of reacquaintance to needs of physical, emotional, and mental sustenance. Rank has no bearing on this; Generals and Captains have treated these processes again and again with nihilistic melodrama and focus only on what is lost. It is no better, I also warn, to swing from passive obsession to active, becoming spectre of violence and masquerade of carelessness because ‘nothing matters anymore.’ To ignore Trauma risks being consumed by it, for regular psychology as for parahuman physicality. If the corners of a parahuman’s new abilities and new state of mind are not known, they can, and have verifiably, risked being swallowed up into a fully Yōma state. Like an addiction, the Unknown can swallow the unwary.“
“Yōma, Parahumans, Senshi, Mauvians and Human Officers are all pertinent and necessary in the Negaverse; do not make the mistake to hastily assume a hierarchy of castes. There are advantages and disadvantages to each, so appreciate the history and reason for an individual’s status. I cannot stress enough-define Yōma as good or bad as you like, but you are wanted and more useful as a parahuman or human to the Negaverse. Queen Metallia has the boundless Rift full of Yōma, and she has had it for at least a thousand years. If they were the only thing she needed for her aims she could have achieved all many times over with that wealth. Fatalism, foolishness, isolation, fear and immaturity perpetuate loss of good officers to full Yōmafication that hurts our cause, our community and morale, more than helps. “
Barbary, the Yōma flatlion, carefully woodled around with a tray to provide to each attendee of the seminar a small, 4 ounce clay teacup that was veined with shining gold. The art had been brought to her attention some years back by her cousin. It was a nice illustration to her talk. Schörl spoke while the creature worked, since time was limited. They’d all eventually get their objects to kinesthetically understand. “Facing up to the Trauma of Change means finding and exploring all the hurts and breaks. We, as a community, accept and offer the support and help to new officers that we recruit or re-educate from our enemies—regularly facing the Trauma of lost memory, identity and rebuilding from scratch many lives this way. This is not regularly offered, or understood, for the trauma and state of our parahuman officers? There is a bias there, a caste system that assumes parahumans only come from mistakes, or are lesser inherently, as already warned against. Tanzanite, one of the most effective General Sovereigns of our city was a parahuman. Like converts from the knights or the White Moon whose starseeds are touched and altered with Metallia’s help, the very starseed of parahumans is touched by the process of their Trauma. Parahuman starseeds are no longer geometrically symmetrical. Bodily they may have extra or changed limbs, missing parts, and-or replaced parts with elements that make no scientific sense against homo sapiens body function. “
She paused long enough to motion an open palm at Faustite’s demonstratively on fire, organless, smoking torso. “But Homo Sapiens, who they once were and how they defined themselves once are the pieces that they are going to be starting with and picking up. To have been a family member, a lover, a friend, of a new parahuman requires this understanding as much as they will require it themselves. They do not genesis from a vacuum. Change is not erasure. Each and every one is unique as these cups. This is Kintsugi, gold joinery, pioneered in Japan. The moment of breaking, the history of each piece, is not hidden. It is represented in the new shape and identity of the cup with brilliant gold. Repair requires transformation. Progress requires transformation. What is lost, or altered, in place of society is gained in other ways: the laws of mankind and the ethics of any given society apply differently or not at all to what is not human. Can a tiger be persecuted for grand theft auto? Should it have to have a driver’s license? Leprechauns do not have to work forty hours a week or worry about healthcare insurance coverage. Bigfoot probably can’t catch human influenza. To be parahuman is to be able to take real inspiration from the Fair People of legends, and the folk cryptids of today. Different advantages and leverages can be found for parahuman personal and community benefit. Effort and cost are different, not wholes of better or worse, for how parahuman officers can live. Parahuman officers retain their autonomy of will. They can come and go freely, and can manipulate energy to summon subordinates, open portals, teleport, and command, unlike Yōma who can only consume as to make leaving the Rift a burden. Their starseed still generates its own energy, and they can mindfully harvest energy or starseeds from others for the needs of the Queen and the Negaverse. ”
“Each of these cups is a gift from me to each of you. They are an item to embolden your thoughts about your fellow officers and yourselves: as you are now, and as parahuman whether by choice, necessity, mistake, or fully Yōmafied. Thinking about it now primes the ability to take action later: to face that new veil of new Being. Though the world may break you, be not only stronger in those fractured places—but shining.”
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Posted: Fri Apr 05, 2019 9:14 pm
Closing
Faustite returned to the front of the stage and drew a long breath. Ey gripped the podium, aware of the heat and wet and dim of that space, aware of eyes lingering on em with expressions fast warping into expectations. "Thank you for coming. Euphoria, General Moonstone, General Benitoite and I will answer any questions. If you choose to leave, there are pamphlets behind you on how to train youmafied officers." Faustite ushered the mentioned three to the fore, then motioned for eir squid youma to drag the podium out of the way.
"The floor is open for questions."
[[ OOC: If your character has any questions, please quote Ghouliboo for Euphoria,Sleet Tempest Snape for Benitoite,Strickenized for Faustite, or Syrie for Moonstone to answer that question. While your character might ICly be asking all four of them a question, I ask that you please OOCly quote only one person to avoid any unintentional toe-stepping in coordinating an answer.
Thank you for reading and participating! Special thanks goes to Ghouliboo, Ivynian, kuropeco, MoonKitsune, Sleet Tempest Snape, and Syrie for fleshing out posts and contributing their characters for this seminar!
Posting is now open! Everyone is free to post as much or as little as they want! ]]
ghouliboooo
for questions + your records
ivyniaaan
for your records
kuropecooo
for your records
moonkitsuneee
for your records
sleet tempest snapeee
for questions and your records
syrieee
for questions and your records
Posted: Sat Apr 06, 2019 10:42 am
General Quartz (and personal youma All-One)
As a rule, General Quartz had little time or interest for most Negaverse meetings. The propaganda didn't interest him, the posturing was often tiresome, and the company was generally worse -- it was other Negaverse agents, and he preferred to spend as little time socializing with them as possible.
But Faustite had been one of Schörl's, and Schörl herself was speaking at this particular meeting, and that made things quite different. If there was one thing his mind and body knew with perfect clarity, it was dogged obedience to Schörl's whims and wisdom. If she felt this meeting was worth her time, then it was worth his time, and, by extension, Idrialite's time.
Quartz arrived to the meeting a few minutes early (courtesy of Idrialite's excellent time management) and settled into a seat near the front, accompanied by his small entourage. He sat crisply, both feel on the floor and poised to demonstrate a look-how-well-I'm-paying-attention demeanor, and only occasionally looked around to see who else was present that he knew by name or by their database file. All-One, in its many bodies, gamboled freely over his person, the little flickers of light from its periodically glowing forms appearing to glitter, starlike, over his clothing and through his hair, as it listened and watched the proceedings. With his left hand, Quartz soothed Soyala's soft fur where the Mauvian perched delicately in his lap.
Quartz took periodic swigs from an open bottle of Shiraz in his right hand -- pausing to faintly salute Schörl with it when she mentioned the city (although in fact modern Shiraz had no relation at all to the city or its historical wine) -- and relied upon All-One to provide occasional, polite sounds of applause at the proper moments.
When the delicate, beautifully gold-chased Kintsugi cups were handed out, Quartz turned his around in his open hand for a brief moment -- then promptly poured some of the Shiraz into his cup and Idrialite's, and began to sip from it as though he were now in attendance at some extraordinarily strange tea ceremony.
It was All-One, not Quartz, that spoke to break the silence.
"Euphoria," the youma's own voice echoed back to her, in the same cadence, the same intonation.
A pause, and then another voice followed it. A series of voices, broken and stitched together as though Dr. Frankenstein had hideously edited many sounds into one unnerving track.
"Tell them -- " a woman's voice begged, frightened.
" -- how it feels, to -- " spoke a different woman, her voice lilting and sultry.
" -- live to serve! -- " sang the third voice, in what was certainly a recorded track from Be Our Guest.
The fifth voice, was a man's, giddy and reverent. " -- to love and to cherish, to honor and obey -- "
The voices played back again, resewn, with one more at the end -- cold and hostile.
"Tell them -- "
" -- how it feels -- "
" -- to die."
Quartz sipped slowly from his cup while All-One spoke, appearing deeply unfazed by the conversation.
Ghouliboo
Quartz's creepy youma All-One is a terrible nuisance, but it's basically asking Euphoria to contextualize her experiece as, essentially, a living being. Much was said about what it's like for a Nega agent when their bonded youma gets dusted, but not what it's like for youma when they're killed~
Tanzanite stood quietly in the back, hiding like a raccoon behind a bush. Except the raccoon was six feet tall and the bush was a bountiful spread of golden dreadlocks attached to Alkaid's head.
There were plenty of people in the world with that same pale skin. That same purple hair, which had been braided and styled to cover the left side of her face. Another thing for which she could thank the Ascendant General.
And for perhaps the first time in her strange life, Tanzanite just stood there, listened, and kept her damn mouth shut.
