Jealousy looks bad on everyone... especially him though


A man with pale sapphire skin and azure hair. His frame is very slight which accurately denotes his physical strength. However, his eyes reveal a surprising intelligence and many that met his gaze struggle to argue against his message. Especially when they turn a beautiful shade of magenta.


With dreams and visions of past lives Shikoba was to be the seer of the tribe by both a river and a lake. Ideal for the lifestyle of a water spirit made manifest. Well that was one possibility, if there were no conflict and people were to be content to a life of peace and cooperation. This was not an existence Shikoba was to enjoy.

War broke out between the water and mountain worshippers, while this was nowhere near as destructive as wars that were being waged across oceans in Europe it was still a conflict unseen of in scale to his people. As a spiritualist it would have been easy for Shikoba to be consumed by anger, despair or hatred but his resolve was more sound than that. He was however vulnerable to another emotion love. Well an excess of it.

A warrior had died in vain defending his home and the love of his life. When his spirit returned he found a burnt husk of a township and Shikoba praying over the lost lives. The spirit wept for his lost love and Shikoba reached out to him. From there the two were joined together. The spirit resides withing Shikoba, protecting and loving him as all that is left of the warrior is love. But if there is nothing else, love becomes possessive lust.

Over time his meditations shifted from consoling the dead to philosophising over the concept of conflict and it’s utter uselessness. After all it never ends, conflict just causes further resentment and envy. Clearly the only true way to progress is to cooperate, and the best way to cooperate is to love and be loved. Love alone could solve everything. It was clear now, thanks to Lussuria’s whispers.

So with his homeland in relative disarray but nothing keeping him there he sought out guidance. While communing with water spirits he dreamt of dark clouds brewing in the East that would eventually consume the world in tyranny and hatred. So he packed his bags and set off… in the wrong direction. See he was already on the eastern coast of his land so he’d have to go around. He knew there were lands to south which were very advanced if frightfully violent and liked their sacrificing of captives.

But an idea was had and Shikoba was not one for changing his mind once it was set. After all he could always just talk his way out of getting killed, how hard could it be? Very as it turned out. He was just walking through a valley that was playing host to a battle of some sort, minding his own business. Suddenly someone yelled out in a weird language and pointed at him. Shikoba simply smiled and waved and the scantily clad warrior. Much to his surprise he was tackled and bound. So talking wasn’t an option as he realised he didn’t speak their language.

So he was dragged off by some man dressed like a bird and kept in a camp bound along with all the other captives who were taking the whole thing very well. Shikoba was not. He was panicking and could feel Lussuria getting furious, he was difficult to control. Eventually he let his control slip and collapsed. When he woke up he was in the arms of a very possessive Lussuria and next to them was a beautiful man in clothes of the locals but he was clearly not one of the warriors. Thank the Gods.

Once they were a safe distance from all the conflict Lussuria gave their new companion a glare before fading and returning to Shikoba. Arcay his name was. A great man, beautiful enough to be sacrificed to the Gods. He looked it, although he also looked like he hadn’t done a days work in his life and acted like it. Nothing actually rude or derogatory, just had no idea what to do… about anything. It was endearing, if at times frustrating.

Unlike Shikoba though he knew that the only way off this continent was a frozen wasteland to the North. What could be worse. Shikoba had a preference for humid and warm climates with running water not frozen arctic glaciers. But it was a direction at least. Even if an awful one.

Once reaching the border with the North it was clear neither of the two really wanted to step into the cold expanse but they both wanted to reach the other side and pressed forth. There was no going back after a point and for what seemed the longest time that was the only thing that kept them moving forward. During the day they struggled forward against the harsh winds and at night they clung to each other for what warmth was to be found, at it’s worst even Lussuria would join them but the glares directed at Arcay were a bit uncomfortable.

They would sometimes come across tribes in the north, however they survived up there was anyone’s guess. They were a strange people, not much seemed to link them. Some were incredibly violent maniacs who bitterly cried out against the magics Arcy and Shikoba would hurl at them to keep them away. They were at least simple in their hatred of magic, others were obsessed with the beauty of Arcay, Shikoba and Lussuria. Although this did turn to outraged jealousy when the two bragged too much and were chased from the encampment.

After what can only be described as too long they saw a great spire in the distance. Breaking into a run they found the entrance to the greatest civilisation they’d ever seen. The entire city was alive with magic and mysteries. Great glass spires were the homes of the greatest mages in the world. For some reason the King of this great place was interested in the two, who were they to refuse. Apparently he had a small job for them.


Hyperborea Rising Christian1771