Dark Crow Rising

"Up front, the prow of the ship. From there is one of the ways down into the interior of the ship. My brother, Sraacdchammu also happens to be here by the looks of it." Undwote explains as we walk along the length of the vessel. His small hand gestures eagerly towards what appears to be a marble-skinned man in only his underwear. Some kind of dark, metallic skeleton also frames this god in the closing distance.

Whatever this divine man of men is doing, I feel like it can be easily mistaken for dancing. He drums his chest with clenched fists between shaping his body into many different athletic postures. Each one clearly needs a finely toned body before you even attempted to do it. I wonder what he is like as a person, I was never really someone who attended his gyms nor did I worship him.

In life...

I shake my head clear as we come to a stop near the peculiar-skinned god, "Hm, oh, hello elder brother!"

The giant of a man waves down at us as he comes to a thudding stop. This god even offers me the same kind of smile and wave and I can't help but return it. This god is bloody huge...! Definitely the kind you'd love to hide behind, but hate to be in front of when he wears a scowl.

"Sraacdchammu." Undwote greets, "This is Nin, he's the soul I told you about earlier while he was still getting some of that awkward shut-eye."

"The one who was turned into a puppet for that thieving species?" he asks as he looks down at me with a frown, making me shuffle backwards slightly. I wince noticeably with a slight jump, the words tender in meaning.

"That's the one!" the God of Death chirps with a break in his voice that leaves him smirking at it.

"Well, it is nice to meet you then, Nin. As you heard just now, Scraacdchammu is my name. Now, come see me later if you can, assuming you are able. The ship was not really built with mortals in mind." he tells me and while his offer is serious-in-tone at first, he lightens up at the end. My eyes watch his fingers as he drums the ribcage that is likely on top of his actual ribcage. Assuming gods have ribcages...?

"So... Uh... How come you are made of rock and metal? I thought you were meant to be the god of... Well, this." I ask, gesturing to my own, flimsy, skinny arm as a reference. Honestly, I am sure I just insulted a god.

"I am made up of the same components as mortal men, yes." he answers, smiling as he leans on a nearby crate.

"You do not look like flesh and blood..." I say as I fail to keep a steady gaze.

"We both have blood, but neither of us truly have flesh. I still remember the days the first humans were born when Thurnmourer stumped his thumb hammering a mountain together. Seeing your very first ancestors crawl out of the clay like that was quite interesting." the God of Masculine Form reminisces with a huff.

"Father threw quite a fit seeing the first mortals..." Undwote quietly comments as his brother nearly laughs at him.

"How dare you share your power with mortals!?" Sraacdchammu mimics in a big and 'scary' manner.

"Took a while for him to get that it just came with being human. Being able to call upon the divine forces of creation, or, magic, as they have come to know it as." Undwote explains as he fiddles with his pipe as it comes out briefly from his pocket.

"So how is magic, then, Nin? Your body doesn't seem to know what to do with it!" Sraacdchammu chuckles as he leans closer to me, though, remaining at a respectable distance.

"You can tell?" I go as I look at my left hand before I start to remember how it felt. Magic has been a mixed bag for me, it was so terrifying at first. It still scares me, knowing that I now can... Could?

I shake my head again.

"Well, it's been nice meeting you. But, what were you doing, right before we got here?" I ask as I get my mind back on track.

"Preparing myself for the usual that happens when Dad calls on us to spend a few nights on this ship." the god explains nebulously.

"How do you know days are passing? This is a cave and the only light is... Whatever is happening up here and the sparks over on the sides." I ask, gesturing to each of the things I have yet to wrap my head around.

"Clocks." he answers with a simple smile and now I feel a little stupid.

"So, where are we anyway, you two?" I switch over to so I can quickly get to forgetting this feeling. Glancing about, I focus on the strange, almost sparkling rock up, down and around.

"We are in the Orbital-Halo itself." Undwote goes with a matter-of-fact tone as he joins his brother on a crate. The white-haired boy hands over his smoking pipe and the nearly skull-faced man inspects it.

Staring about, flabbergasted at the fact I am in the Orbital-Halo, Sraacdchammu opens his mouth, "So, I assume you are taking him across the ship in a bit of a Z to meet everyone else?"

"That would be right." Undwote nods.

"Well, when you get to our queens of the kitchen, would you mind telling them to put my dinner in one of the microwaves? Going to be busy and I'd prefer to eat once I have exhausted myself." the muscle-bound god asks as he bounces his eager feet over and over.

"Sure, no portions at all." Undwote quietly laughs as he snatches back his smoking pipe. The younger, larger brother then ruffles his white hair and shoves him off.

"Just try." he threatens ironically.

"Come on then, you, down we go." Undwote tells me as he briefly grabs my wrist to bring me along. Sraacdchammu gets up and stops us by grabbing my shoulder, turning me slightly.

"I mean it, come find me when you can, I'd like to talk to you about your pre-death situation." he tells me firmly as I focus on the strange feeling emanating from my pressed-upon skin.

"I'd rather not talk about it..." I say as I look away towards the cavernous walls of the Orbital-Halo.

"Trust me, stuff like that comes out much better when someone listens in." he nearly whispers as he clearly urges me to reconsider. I frown with increasing bitter aggression.

"It doesn't matter, I am literally dead! Once you lot are done with whatever it is you are doing... It won't matter if I can get it out of my system." I let out before snapping out of his grip, stumbling forward before I catch myself on a firm leg. I'll go and meet everyone Undwote is willing to introduce me to.

"Well, I'll be there anyway, so do accept my offer, please!" Sraacdchammu insists as my head vanishes beneath the planks, one step after the other. My nose suddenly bursts to life as all these different kinds of smells inexplicitly assault me without warning. Turning back to the top of the stairs, I blink as I distinctly recall the smell of clean air just now.

Down here has a familiar scent, metalworking, every bit of it. From the shards becoming lethal powder in the air to the chemicals burning your nostrils at the slightest touch. Then, from the far end of the long hallway, the smell of sweet, nutritious cooking. So many smells, some exotic and tantalising, others familiarly disgusting.

"So what's down here, exactly?" I ask the small God of Death as I try to protect my nose from the barrage of nasal pleasure and pain. I feel sick, almost, even though I am dead.

"Workshops for those who'd like to use them. With one way into the kitchen at the far end, but, we'll keep heading down before visiting there." he explains, raising my spirit, though not literally.

Thurnmourer has to be on this floor, he has to be, the God of Creation is probably hammering away in a workshop!

The god my former profession was linked to and the fact he's always struck me as the coolest god. My weak spot for the mental image of a man wielding a bolt of solid gold on a plane of glass flashes in my head. A boulder crackling with thunder and lightning as monsters and abominations are smashed apart. The first and foremost hero of all the stories I heard growing up!

I blink as I notice what covers the full length of the ship, all the way to the other end on both sides. Lots and lots of big artillery pieces on little four-wheeled cars, chained up to the walls. Undwote mentioned that Kyarverin handles it all when it comes to crew... So it must be quite something to watch it play out, guns firing off with no one manning them.

"Why the guns?" I ask as I poke one to see if there is anything else magical about it. Maybe it is like that weird light gun Heiya showed me how to use before we tried to escape.

"To fight back with." Undwote surprisingly answers.

"What kind of ship filled with gods needs guns to fight back with?" I question as I really want to know the answer to this. Should I be worried...?

"Father mostly. He likes yelling out which broadside to fire, how many, what type of shot he wants. That sort of stuff." Undwote explains calmly with little gestures, bringing me out of my growing sense of worry.

"Oh. So does that mean the workshops make a lot of ammunition for these?" I ask as I notice the racks with filled, spherical slots. Other means of storage are little pyramids of four, with three on a base and one crowning the top. A fingertip touches one of the cannonballs and I am nearly vocal about how smooth they all are.

"Not as much as you might be expecting, my brother mostly just cleans them or bowls with them."

"Bowls?"

"Bowling, a game where you roll balls to knock down a set number of pins." he clarifies for me.

"It sounds like a game we... I used to play back home in Tobaballe, but we call it Knockdown." I point out as something else comes to mind, and, as is natural, I suddenly have the urge to play it. A small smile comes to my face as I remember the fun I used to have with people from the other towers. We'd change up the play area in so many different ways with rubbish and scrap.

"You'll have to show me how your people do it, then. We'll be on the ship for a while now, so playing a few long games won't hurt anyone. Well, assuming no one messes around with the cannon shot and hits someone on the head." Undwote goes as he rolls a partially loose ball around its incomplete casing, almost like a globe.

"If we are meant to roll the balls on the ground, how is anyone getting hit by it?" I ask as one of my brows rise. If I was still a normal human, without this seeming curse of magic, it might've made me wince, hearing that. But, I have a memory of being shot right in the head nowadays.

"I forget who it might have been, maybe it was Ihtuntur as he might as well be forever a toddler. But it would seem, whoever did it, they let go too late and the ball went soaring across the sky. Hitting Jaadagoren right in the back of their head while they were talking to someone." he explains, laughing a little as he gets to the part about the ball flying. He even animates his explanation with action and soaring noises, ending in a comedic crash.

"Did it hurt?" I ask, making the God of Death come to a ponderous halt. He starts to chew his smoking pipe mouthpiece as his eyes narrow at nothing.

"I... Don't actually know. Father enforces and insists on us being in a limited state regardless of if He drags us along or not. And, it was thrown by a god and made by one after all, but, at the same time, we don't really feel pain in the way a mortal might."

"If you don't feel pain then why is the answer not a simple no?" I question, not really getting what he is going on about.

"It's complicated, far too complicated to go into given your state of mortality, yes, despite your lack of a living body as well."

"I'd ruin myself on a metaphysical level by getting an in-depth answer on if a thrown ball hitting the back of a god's head hurts?"

"Yes." he goes, nodding with the laconic answer.

"Alright, I will just take it as yes but no." I shrug out as I start to pay attention to how hot it is now getting. Is this it, maybe, is this where I am going to meet my craft-god? It has to be, the way the metal rings out its song our way with a drumming hammer eliciting sweet cries.

Bang, bang, bang, a rhythm like thunder!