Saturday, January 10, 2015
Alphas
Liza
Brave and powerful Liza is the panda Shaman (alpha). She values exploration and intellectual pursuits, and has personally mapped a great majority of Jamaa. She is proud and determined in her manner, and she lets nothing stand in the way of her latest expedition to a far off land. Liza doesn't stand still for long, and never has much time to talk before having to dash off. She created most of the exploration-based challenges in Animal Jam and she presses all animals in the world to document Jamaa. She has a kind, motherly manner about her; very encouraging and very gentle. She believes that anyone can do better, and reach higher.
~ancient transcripts
Greely
Greely, the reluctant wolf Shaman (alpha), puts his creepy cleverness to use in the study of animal magic. He is definitely on the side of good and righteousness, but he plays by his own rules. He speaks in to-the-point sentences, even to new animals, and has a certain amount of disdain for the other Shaman leaders.
The only higher power that Greely respects is the Sky Mother, Mira. Greely is a powerful warrior against the phantoms in Animal Jam; they fear him most of all, because he is so much like them. He is the link to the darker side of the Animal Jam mythology. He has theories about where the phantoms came from and he may even know the location of a few undiscovered spirit stones.
~ancient transcripts
Sir Gilbert
Cosmo the koala Shaman (alpha) is an expert herbalist. He makes up for his small stature by being very animated and cheerful about everything, and feels that even a small person can have a big personality. Cosmo is a true academic, and loves to study books and do field research. He has an encyclopedic knowledge of herbs and their uses, and he's often consulted by other shaman about threats to the natural world. He acknowledges the spiritual world but prefers to concentrate on things that he can see and touch... and eat. As a mentor to new koalas in Jamaa, Cosmo is friendly and patient with beginners. He's a natural born teacher and loves taking a group of students out into a field to study plants.
~ancient transcripts
Graham
Graham is the monkey Shaman (alpha) who can always be found building, fixing, and inventing things, as well as using tool in the world. He can craft tools that other animals can use without needing hands or thumbs. He's a born tinkerer and never leaves and tool alone without trying to improve it or develop it further.
Graham has a bizarre sense of humor and likes to play innocent pranks on new animals in Animal Jam.
~ancient transcripts
(STATEMENT FROM SNOWYCLAW : Sadly the portion of the Animal Jam website holding its legends was removed during 2011. No additional stories were added to Jamaa. This is one of the reasons we created the Jamaasian Movement: to help return culture to the game. It means more than rares.
Brave and powerful Liza is the panda Shaman (alpha). She values exploration and intellectual pursuits, and has personally mapped a great majority of Jamaa. She is proud and determined in her manner, and she lets nothing stand in the way of her latest expedition to a far off land. Liza doesn't stand still for long, and never has much time to talk before having to dash off. She created most of the exploration-based challenges in Animal Jam and she presses all animals in the world to document Jamaa. She has a kind, motherly manner about her; very encouraging and very gentle. She believes that anyone can do better, and reach higher.
~ancient transcripts
Greely
Greely, the reluctant wolf Shaman (alpha), puts his creepy cleverness to use in the study of animal magic. He is definitely on the side of good and righteousness, but he plays by his own rules. He speaks in to-the-point sentences, even to new animals, and has a certain amount of disdain for the other Shaman leaders.
The only higher power that Greely respects is the Sky Mother, Mira. Greely is a powerful warrior against the phantoms in Animal Jam; they fear him most of all, because he is so much like them. He is the link to the darker side of the Animal Jam mythology. He has theories about where the phantoms came from and he may even know the location of a few undiscovered spirit stones.
~ancient transcripts
Sir Gilbert
Sir Gilbert, the regal tiger Shaman (alpha), is a proud warrior. He takes his ancestry very seriously and always makes it a point to honor those that came before him when going into battle.
Even though he has a rough appearance, Sir Gilbert is a very thoughtful, spiritual animal with a caring nature. His personality is serious, reverential, and soft-spoken. He has a deep, low voice that can be as soothing as it is menacing. As a mentor to new tigers, Sir Gilbert can be a tough teacher, but he possesses great wisdom and knows a lot about the history of Jamaa and its ongoing struggle with the phantoms that inhabit the Animal Jam world.
~ancient transcripts
Cosmo
~ancient transcripts
Graham
Graham is the monkey Shaman (alpha) who can always be found building, fixing, and inventing things, as well as using tool in the world. He can craft tools that other animals can use without needing hands or thumbs. He's a born tinkerer and never leaves and tool alone without trying to improve it or develop it further.
Graham has a bizarre sense of humor and likes to play innocent pranks on new animals in Animal Jam.
~ancient transcripts
Peck
Cute but definitely not cuddly, Peck is the rabbit Shaman (alpha). She is the loud and feisty one of the group, and she is a nonconformist and very independent. She lets her punk rock creative spirits guide her: she likes her music loud and her clothing louder!
Peck is friendly to everyone and sees herself as just one of the gang. She doesn’t flaunt her Shaman status, and as a matter of fact can be a little embarrassed at being treated with reverence. Peck loves to create, and is a gifted interior designer, painter, and musician. She does her best to leave her distinctive mark of color-meets-attitude wherever she goes throughout Jamaa.
~ancient transcripts
(STATEMENT FROM SNOWYCLAW : Sadly the portion of the Animal Jam website holding its legends was removed during 2011. No additional stories were added to Jamaa. This is one of the reasons we created the Jamaasian Movement: to help return culture to the game. It means more than rares.
What does Jamaa mean to you?
Since we began the movement we have brought back the shamans (as alphas) as well as the stories of Mira (as the boat introduction for new jammers) and Zios (in the stories of the adventures). Even the idea of quests have returned (as the now popular adventures). Thank you AJHQ, and thank you everyone for your support in shaping Jamaa.)
Since we began the movement we have brought back the shamans (as alphas) as well as the stories of Mira (as the boat introduction for new jammers) and Zios (in the stories of the adventures). Even the idea of quests have returned (as the now popular adventures). Thank you AJHQ, and thank you everyone for your support in shaping Jamaa.)
Saturday, May 24, 2014
How Phantoms Came To Jamaa
How Phantoms Came to Jamaa
Mira, the Sky Mother, was heartbroken after she lost her companion spirit, Zios, the Sky Father.
Her feelings of sadness and anger fell to the earth of Jamaa. Mira's tears mixed with the elements of Jamaa and formed the dark mysterious phantoms that haunt this land today. Because of the sadness and anger that they were created from, the phantoms' only goal is to bring chaos and destruction to Jamaa.
~adapted from ancient transcripts
Her feelings of sadness and anger fell to the earth of Jamaa. Mira's tears mixed with the elements of Jamaa and formed the dark mysterious phantoms that haunt this land today. Because of the sadness and anger that they were created from, the phantoms' only goal is to bring chaos and destruction to Jamaa.
~adapted from ancient transcripts
The Beginning
The Story
And so it was that the Sky Father was named Zios.
He created many stars and planets, and set them in motion.
But after eons of creation, he became lonely. So he created the
Sky Mother, a grey heron, and named her Mira.
Mira was beautiful and kind and they were very happy together.
She loved Zios deeply and often told him how talented he was,
encouraging him to create. Together, Zios and Mira created their masterpiece: a lush land filled with oceans, mountains, meadows, and all kinds of plants and animals.
They named this special world Jamaa, and for hundreds of years, the world and its animals were at peace.
But today, all is not well in Jamaa. A mysterious dark force has crept into the land, stealing away animals and ruining the beauty of Jamaa. Only you can help save the animals and restore the world to its glory. Please help, for you are Jamaa's only hope.
~ancient transcripts
And so it was that the Sky Father was named Zios.
He created many stars and planets, and set them in motion.
But after eons of creation, he became lonely. So he created the
Sky Mother, a grey heron, and named her Mira.
Mira was beautiful and kind and they were very happy together.
She loved Zios deeply and often told him how talented he was,
encouraging him to create. Together, Zios and Mira created their masterpiece: a lush land filled with oceans, mountains, meadows, and all kinds of plants and animals.
They named this special world Jamaa, and for hundreds of years, the world and its animals were at peace.
But today, all is not well in Jamaa. A mysterious dark force has crept into the land, stealing away animals and ruining the beauty of Jamaa. Only you can help save the animals and restore the world to its glory. Please help, for you are Jamaa's only hope.
~ancient transcripts
Fanmade Legend ----- Sigurd's Saga
In the brutal nape of an icy giant, two brown deer lay in the snow. One was of small size, the other obviously a doe that was battered quite hard.
Both were very much emaciated.
The rattling breath of the doe seemed to embody the heartbeat of the earth itself, in, out, in out...
And little Sigurd, curious as he was, peered around at his surroundings. His large, black eyes were as pure as the snow itself.
The doe nuzzled him weakly, her warmth barely warming them up in their nest within the wall of the cold castle. The howling winds of the winter around them battered the walls of the forttress, yet only hunger hit them.
Sigurd licked at the ribs poking out from beneath the once luxurious pelt of the doe. The lone tree they'd long since scraped clean of bark loomed ahead, like a beacon of hopelessness and hope in the winter around them.
Although Sigurd's mind couldn't process all of it at the time, he knew one thing stark clear in his mind:
If they didn't get help soon, they would die.
The low growl of the doe's stomach thrummed against's Sigurd's head, soothing like a metronome. Every night he fell asleep against his mother's stomach, feeling the warm flow of blood underneath the fur. Stubs of his antlers poked out of his head, yet he had nobody except for his mother to show them off to, as all of his friends had either died or departed to a better life in the lands to the south - south of the former grandeur of Corax, where all animals lived in harmony.
Long before, they had been part of a massive herd of deer, where food never ran out. The dominant buck had always been very fair, chosen only by seven trials of pureheartedness and virtue. Yet, one season, the leaf-bare came three moons too early, wiping out several of the weaker deer and bringing down their food to a trickle. The dominant buck had made a decision: he would travel with his most loyal followers to the lands south to see if they could forge out a better life in the world below. Although long ago, their Spirit Stone had been stolen by great evils and they were forced to live in the frigid expanse of Corax, he believed the sudden leaf-bare was a sign from the gods that it was time to move back.
His words were quickly dismissed as folly.
So it was, the dominant buck leaving for Jamaa and his followers trailing behind. A new, aspiring buck succeeded in the Seven Trials and began to lead the herd. However, that year, leaf-bare lasted much longer than usual, overlapping the usual start of greenleaf, skipping newleaf altogether.
This devastated the herd, exterminating 80% of the total population to starvation, hypothermia, and attacks by wild wolves. Those who tried to retrace the footsteps of the group going for Jamaa did not return, probably claimed by death, as they had promised to come back and take everyone with them once they rendezvoused with the original group.
Now, Sigurd and his mother were the sole survivors, and even they would die in a matter of days... or sooner.
Days later, when Sigurd was chattering his teeth in yearning for a good root to chew, he felt a sudden silence within him.
A chilling silence. A silence of pure despair, emptiness and misery.
Then, he realized the metronome was gone, replaced by an icy feeling spreading over him.
He turned his head towards his mother, and saw something he would never forget.
Ever.
The sight of her unblinking eyes stung his heart like an icy arrow plunged in mercilessly, speeding up the icy feeling spreading across his fur.
Suddenly, Sigurd, blinking away the grief as he always had whenever somebody he knew perished, realized his vision was dimming. His heart was slowing, his breath coming out as a wheeze, and his mind crumbling to an extremely addled phase.
His memories of better times whirled by like the brisk gust of a stormy day, one by one...
Wheeze.
The last breath.
The last, dreaded breath.
Sigurd was floating.
Sigurd awoke in a soft bed of animal leather, a brown orb laid gently on his chest and a warm feeling spreading through him.
He got up, and looked around.
Flutes, like the ones that his mother used to tell him about before the chill, were in his room. But these reed flutes were playing themselves, tooting out a pleasant tune with a background of water trickling in the background - the purposed lullaby of Cosmo, the koala Alpha of the lands to the south.
He got up, and realized his veins were flowing with power. The brown orb had disappeared, taking the sensation of pleasant feelings with it, but he still felt in his prime. A soft carpet of grass covered the floor, and when he ate some, to his surprise, he wasn't very hungry, and the grass grew back where he'd taken some from the soft dirt.
In the corner, on another cot of soft leather, his mother lay, sleeping peacefully. He almost cried out, then realized she looked deathly tired. It was best not to disturb her, as he'd learned the hard way years before.
His rump still ached from that wallop.
The temperature within the room was perfect, reminding him of gentle summer breezes in the grazing lands the herd traveled to during the summer. He recalled the cycle of lands, where they would go one place for greenleaf and leaffall, then travel to another for leafbare and newleaf while the other land rejuvenated. It had been a perfect cycle, at least until the chill.
Room?
He looked up, and saw that the ceiling was covered with painted clouds that really floated across the ceiling, paint birds flying around, sometimes disappearing into the walls, where they hid until they came out later. The sun radiated its painted rays, and he could actually feel its great warmth nuzzling his fur, and a breeze ruffle it. The clouds didn't go in a monotonous circle, either, hiding like the birds. Sometimes a few fat, blue drops of paint would splatter from a cloud onto the floor, where it was absorbed like real water. Where they landed, tulips, daisies, dandelions and other field flowers sprouted and grew in seconds, but never wilted.
The walls were a grassy green, with wondrous painted vines and trees on it, with the leaves moving in the breeze and the chirps of the birds coming out seamlessly.
There was only one explanation to that.
Magic.
He glanced at the door, and immediately it flew open. Incredible!
But first, he looked at a mirror propped against the wall, and gasped.
His eyes were rustic, his fur ruffled ruggedly, and best of all...
"I have antlers!" he cried.
He held up a hoof, which immediately hummed with energy. When he stomped it down on the ground, shockwaves spread through the ground, rattling the entire room.
He gasped again, then mentally chided himself for being so emotional. True bucks weren't emotional. Not at all.
Those were the true powers of a leader destined to lead. The stomp that could shake a legion head to toe.
His majestic antlers were much to look at, so he looked at the mirror again, butit was gone.
Huffing with exasperation, he went out into the hallway.. and saw something.
All of the Alphas rushing out of rooms (LaSalle had wires sticking out of her head for no reason, there was a cream pie on Graham's face and Peck was muttering "Awesome. Awesome!"), embracing Sigurd with open arms.
He was an Alpha.
The majestic Deer Alpha Sigurd, leader of Jamaasians.
He would lead.
He would fight the evils he'd learned about from fairy tales.
He would have worth.
Both were very much emaciated.
The rattling breath of the doe seemed to embody the heartbeat of the earth itself, in, out, in out...
And little Sigurd, curious as he was, peered around at his surroundings. His large, black eyes were as pure as the snow itself.
The doe nuzzled him weakly, her warmth barely warming them up in their nest within the wall of the cold castle. The howling winds of the winter around them battered the walls of the forttress, yet only hunger hit them.
Sigurd licked at the ribs poking out from beneath the once luxurious pelt of the doe. The lone tree they'd long since scraped clean of bark loomed ahead, like a beacon of hopelessness and hope in the winter around them.
Although Sigurd's mind couldn't process all of it at the time, he knew one thing stark clear in his mind:
If they didn't get help soon, they would die.
The low growl of the doe's stomach thrummed against's Sigurd's head, soothing like a metronome. Every night he fell asleep against his mother's stomach, feeling the warm flow of blood underneath the fur. Stubs of his antlers poked out of his head, yet he had nobody except for his mother to show them off to, as all of his friends had either died or departed to a better life in the lands to the south - south of the former grandeur of Corax, where all animals lived in harmony.
Long before, they had been part of a massive herd of deer, where food never ran out. The dominant buck had always been very fair, chosen only by seven trials of pureheartedness and virtue. Yet, one season, the leaf-bare came three moons too early, wiping out several of the weaker deer and bringing down their food to a trickle. The dominant buck had made a decision: he would travel with his most loyal followers to the lands south to see if they could forge out a better life in the world below. Although long ago, their Spirit Stone had been stolen by great evils and they were forced to live in the frigid expanse of Corax, he believed the sudden leaf-bare was a sign from the gods that it was time to move back.
His words were quickly dismissed as folly.
So it was, the dominant buck leaving for Jamaa and his followers trailing behind. A new, aspiring buck succeeded in the Seven Trials and began to lead the herd. However, that year, leaf-bare lasted much longer than usual, overlapping the usual start of greenleaf, skipping newleaf altogether.
This devastated the herd, exterminating 80% of the total population to starvation, hypothermia, and attacks by wild wolves. Those who tried to retrace the footsteps of the group going for Jamaa did not return, probably claimed by death, as they had promised to come back and take everyone with them once they rendezvoused with the original group.
Now, Sigurd and his mother were the sole survivors, and even they would die in a matter of days... or sooner.
Days later, when Sigurd was chattering his teeth in yearning for a good root to chew, he felt a sudden silence within him.
A chilling silence. A silence of pure despair, emptiness and misery.
Then, he realized the metronome was gone, replaced by an icy feeling spreading over him.
He turned his head towards his mother, and saw something he would never forget.
Ever.
The sight of her unblinking eyes stung his heart like an icy arrow plunged in mercilessly, speeding up the icy feeling spreading across his fur.
Suddenly, Sigurd, blinking away the grief as he always had whenever somebody he knew perished, realized his vision was dimming. His heart was slowing, his breath coming out as a wheeze, and his mind crumbling to an extremely addled phase.
His memories of better times whirled by like the brisk gust of a stormy day, one by one...
Wheeze.
The last breath.
The last, dreaded breath.
Sigurd was floating.
Sigurd awoke in a soft bed of animal leather, a brown orb laid gently on his chest and a warm feeling spreading through him.
He got up, and looked around.
Flutes, like the ones that his mother used to tell him about before the chill, were in his room. But these reed flutes were playing themselves, tooting out a pleasant tune with a background of water trickling in the background - the purposed lullaby of Cosmo, the koala Alpha of the lands to the south.
He got up, and realized his veins were flowing with power. The brown orb had disappeared, taking the sensation of pleasant feelings with it, but he still felt in his prime. A soft carpet of grass covered the floor, and when he ate some, to his surprise, he wasn't very hungry, and the grass grew back where he'd taken some from the soft dirt.
In the corner, on another cot of soft leather, his mother lay, sleeping peacefully. He almost cried out, then realized she looked deathly tired. It was best not to disturb her, as he'd learned the hard way years before.
His rump still ached from that wallop.
The temperature within the room was perfect, reminding him of gentle summer breezes in the grazing lands the herd traveled to during the summer. He recalled the cycle of lands, where they would go one place for greenleaf and leaffall, then travel to another for leafbare and newleaf while the other land rejuvenated. It had been a perfect cycle, at least until the chill.
Room?
He looked up, and saw that the ceiling was covered with painted clouds that really floated across the ceiling, paint birds flying around, sometimes disappearing into the walls, where they hid until they came out later. The sun radiated its painted rays, and he could actually feel its great warmth nuzzling his fur, and a breeze ruffle it. The clouds didn't go in a monotonous circle, either, hiding like the birds. Sometimes a few fat, blue drops of paint would splatter from a cloud onto the floor, where it was absorbed like real water. Where they landed, tulips, daisies, dandelions and other field flowers sprouted and grew in seconds, but never wilted.
The walls were a grassy green, with wondrous painted vines and trees on it, with the leaves moving in the breeze and the chirps of the birds coming out seamlessly.
There was only one explanation to that.
Magic.
He glanced at the door, and immediately it flew open. Incredible!
But first, he looked at a mirror propped against the wall, and gasped.
His eyes were rustic, his fur ruffled ruggedly, and best of all...
"I have antlers!" he cried.
He held up a hoof, which immediately hummed with energy. When he stomped it down on the ground, shockwaves spread through the ground, rattling the entire room.
He gasped again, then mentally chided himself for being so emotional. True bucks weren't emotional. Not at all.
Those were the true powers of a leader destined to lead. The stomp that could shake a legion head to toe.
His majestic antlers were much to look at, so he looked at the mirror again, butit was gone.
Huffing with exasperation, he went out into the hallway.. and saw something.
All of the Alphas rushing out of rooms (LaSalle had wires sticking out of her head for no reason, there was a cream pie on Graham's face and Peck was muttering "Awesome. Awesome!"), embracing Sigurd with open arms.
He was an Alpha.
The majestic Deer Alpha Sigurd, leader of Jamaasians.
He would lead.
He would fight the evils he'd learned about from fairy tales.
He would have worth.
Poem ---- Over The Darkness
Let the night come, before the fight's won
Some might run against the test
But those that triumph, embrace the fight cause
Their fears then prove that courage exists
Some might run against the test
But those that triumph, embrace the fight cause
Their fears then prove that courage exists
Fanmade Legend ------ Roar of the Elemental Feather: Part One
In the dark of night, when the stars twinkled gently above Jamaa, there was but a darkness scheming near the Mira Statue.
A phantom held a small, glistening stone in its grip, the glow coming off of it almost identical to the subtle corona enveloping the Mira Statue. Copper and crystal reached for each other through bushes, yet the phantom wasn't focused on this phenomenon.
Hours before, the Phantom King, vile as he was, had told his minion about this particular stone and how it was relevant to their plans.
"This is a stone Cosmo once possessed, but while he was traveling and fighting dear Abigail, we took it from his home and have since experimented with it." the rattling hiss of the king repeated in the minion's head. "It has the soul of Mira within it, embedded while she tries to regain power. Although she is now too powerful to simply destroy the statue, and she is beyond the point of recovering from enchantments at this state, I trust you that this plan will work. You are worthy enough, minion, but do not think I praise you in any way. If you fail, I'll send the elite Troopers to execrate you."
The phantom nervously flipped through its mental memory of the spell it had to cast. The King assured it that the spell was foolproof, yet the Phantom was worried that the spell would fail, it'd be discovered, both, or the spell backfired and launched a volley of cannibal enchiladas at it while it warbled "Geryon-yeeha!"
As the last of the night owl Jamaasians trickled out of Jamaa Township.the city yawning alongside their open maws, the phantom, his black pupil bouncing around his white eyeball to check for any witnesses, slunk out of the brush. Leaves fell around his dark, gooey body as he made a face with his eye at some rainbow goo somebody left behind, probably from Brady's filthy lab set. That Twoleg scientist's concoctions ranged from brilliant to decent to oh-my-Zios-I'm-going-to-hurl, probably because he was more of an animal researcher invited by Mira (just like Tierney Thys), not a chemist.
Unfortunately, the Phantom had to slosh through some of the latter concoction, feeling the sticky and warm liquid grope at its skin.
Every leaf blowing around the corner was a prying eye to the phantom, every creak of Jam Mart Clothing's ancient door was a gasp by a bystander, every rustling sticky note on the bulletin board a growl of animosity from a Jamaasian Hero. Although the silence of the once-lively city was untouched and blessed, the Phantom couldn't help but shudder at every substantial noise, polluting the air further with its untimely musk.
After what should've been a minute but was fifteen, the night gave way to the sparkling, shimmering statue of Mother Sky herself, as if a partition were being swiftly removed by invisible hands.
"Zooks.." muttered the phantom, so mesmerized it came out as barely a whisper.
The spread wings of Mira seemed to carry promise of a great land of hope, as the forces of Light strove for, the closed eyes emanating serenity, her copper and turquoise feathers individually breathtaking, her legs bent and claws closed as if a slippery fish were being held in it. Her arched neck and round head seemed to be as sharp as a dagger, yet compassionate and forgiving at the same time. On its pedestal were weathered engraved bronze words reading "MIRA, MOTHER OF EVERYTHING IN JAMAA."
Although millenia of graffiti covered it, her shrine's marble columns still stood tale and pale, crumbling yet venerable. The arches seemed to let in positive energies, the vines all thriving as if life itself bled from Mira, the cobblestones very chipped yet as sturdy as an old tree.
A fleck of dust hit the Phantom's black skin, jolting it back to reality.
"Hello, nameless phantom, wake up, I'm getting bored of you just float there. Seriously, do you fart rainbows like Nyan Cat? No? Then wake up!" it seemed to chide.
The night started to brighten, and to the Phantom's horror, the noise of the day before slowly but surely began to revive itself as yawning Jamaasians trickled back into the Township to advertise their events or to simply wake up. It felt the spirit of Jamaa Township begin to awaken alongside them in leaps and strides.
The phantom's seven tentacles started to undulate in panic, while the eighth held up an opaque yellow stone as if to present it to the side of Mira's body, and began to chant nervously.(The phantom, not the tentacle. Should I whack you with a sword repeatedly to make your IQ go up?) The stone had appeared out of thin air, either pooped out by the air or summoned from the Duat.
Probably the latter.
As the phases of the incantation lapsed by, a persistent, blue and white fire grew inside the stone, first an ember, then a flame, then an inferno licking at the sides of the stone, clamoring to escape, to devour everything in its path...
No.
This flame was controlled.
Mira was the goddess of order, peace, in a way, the anti-Apophis. Although Zios did not originally intend for Mira to be the anti-Apophis, she now essentially was.
From the chest of the statue, a blue orb emerged with a droning humming sound, a light twinkling from within. A cool breeze swept over the Township, and from the clouds above, a beam of light spotlighted the levitating orb, specks of energy peeling off of its exterior.
Sweat of black goo dripped down the brow of the Phantom as the spell Cosmo searched for unfolded before it.
Cracks of purple energy not unlike a boomseed boulder's spread across the orb, and larger flakes of the orb came off like eggshell pieces, revealing a blinding white light from within. From the orb spread holographic wings that resembled Mira's, yet were transparent, had flecks of every color of the rainbow dancing within it, and were tipped with a faint yellow glow.
BASHIIING!
Blinding light coming from the orb radiated outward like a shockwave of sheer energy (which it was), inducing the growl of thunder high above. Lightning struck the Mira Statue, sending up clouds of dust. A bonfire of light enveloped the entire shrine, sending the few Jamaasians nearby in wonder, confusion and shock. The very spirit of the Township seemed to hold its breath.
When the dust finally settled, the statue was still standing as the legendary bane of the Phantoms, but the corona was now gone, marking the statue as a normal artifact to even the most impaired. The shrine still buzzed with the life of Jamaa, the magical veins of the Duat still branching out from Mira's power, but no longer did all of her power stay in the statue.
Like a blot of ichor, the golden blood of immortals, cracked, blackened glass had formed around the statue, as if Jamaa had shattered in those moments of wonder and shrunk to wrap around the pedestal.
Where the phantom had been, a shallow crater doted with evaporating time energy drops smoked, the smoke billowing up before dissipating.
Apparently, the Jamaasians would be wondering what had happened for a while.
Where the orb once had been, a white wolf stood, intertwining marks on its fur glowing with power, and a mysterious pink scar running over its eye, as if its very being had been scarred, not just its pelt.
The wolf took flight.
Evada was training with Greely and her friends when the terrible news arrived.
She had had a rough day, since traveling through the Duat (and ending up in the Phantom Vortex twice for no apparent reason) had been harder than anticipated, since Apophis was growing in power and his magical presence was messing up her power. When they'd finally arrived at the Alpha Hut, though, mid-walk to the Alpha Hut, Pink had collapsed suddenly, and they'd had to lug her the rest of the way frantically.
Cosmo had taken Pink into his custody after winking at Evada, and afterwards, Lisa had deployed them for some "enrichment training", aka "Let's Go Beat Up Straw Dummies" day. By Lisa's stern and weary face, Evada'd guessed that the Phantoms were growing in power, destroying some of the last safe havens outside of the borders, and that Pink was in a critical condition but she didn't want her comrades to know.
So, she'd been forced to stand outside in the sweltering heat (which she suspected Greely'd made just for their personal torture) for hours, training to make avatars of Miroza, Mira, Zilch and Zios to overcome various obstacles, using Twoleg weapons to impale dummies like shish-kebobs, and cast various spells that ranged from elemental tricks to cheese-throwing.
Evada quickly learned that cheese-throwing was an art to fear and admire when Tempest had nailed her with a large slice of cheese that exploded in her face.
Just when she wanted to scream out loud, two things came out in the form of the words of the grim-faced Marco, who'd stepped outside the hut to break the news.
First of all, a powerful entity had been spotted flying from the wreckage of some explosion at Jamaa Township, flying towards the Forgotten Valley, estimated to be headed towards the Mira Temple - and Ekrol, a mysterious rogue buck.
Evada's throat had went dry when that news had arrived.
But even worse, more personal news had arrived.
Pink was dead, taken by her illness.
Matilda and Gleam had nuzzled Evada with their scaled snouts, apparently fresh from baths that Harper personally had given them, but the shock quickly formed into thoughts even without their warmth.
She'd witnessed Pink unwillingly slay Savior, one of Pink's best friends, and seen the coffin go into the deep Duat, never to be seen again. Although Pink's cyborg parts and her organic parts had been warring for quite a while, she'd hidden her pain, misery and desperation for a cure. Evada had heard her friend moaning inside her room, cursing Frost and her assumed "friends" for everything that had gone wrong in a while.
It wasn't right, but she knew that bitterness had been Pink's only true supplement, seclusion her only true drink. She'd lived on the power of hatred, bitterness, grudges and tears to keep her going... until now.
She suspected that the illness, alongside the backlash of her hatred and the grief of losing Savior, had killed Pink in the end. Evada knew that Pink would probably rest in peace even though she'd died of her own "supplements", judged by Moon the Wise and purified where her "friend", Snow, had been cleansed, then sent to a ethereal paradise in the Land of the Dead where she'd party forever and be revered by generations of ghosts to come. She knew that the horrible fate of roaming the world as a Core, maybe a Prelate if you were lucky, probably wouldn't fall on Pink's shoulders.
But "probably" wouldn't be enough in the world of Jamaa.
Waves of worry lapped against Evada's heart as she concentrated on improving her own skills instead of repeating Pink's grief over Savior, although lopping off straw heads provided little comfort for the cold claws of freshly reaped death.
She would never think of Pink again after that.
A phantom held a small, glistening stone in its grip, the glow coming off of it almost identical to the subtle corona enveloping the Mira Statue. Copper and crystal reached for each other through bushes, yet the phantom wasn't focused on this phenomenon.
Hours before, the Phantom King, vile as he was, had told his minion about this particular stone and how it was relevant to their plans.
"This is a stone Cosmo once possessed, but while he was traveling and fighting dear Abigail, we took it from his home and have since experimented with it." the rattling hiss of the king repeated in the minion's head. "It has the soul of Mira within it, embedded while she tries to regain power. Although she is now too powerful to simply destroy the statue, and she is beyond the point of recovering from enchantments at this state, I trust you that this plan will work. You are worthy enough, minion, but do not think I praise you in any way. If you fail, I'll send the elite Troopers to execrate you."
The phantom nervously flipped through its mental memory of the spell it had to cast. The King assured it that the spell was foolproof, yet the Phantom was worried that the spell would fail, it'd be discovered, both, or the spell backfired and launched a volley of cannibal enchiladas at it while it warbled "Geryon-yeeha!"
As the last of the night owl Jamaasians trickled out of Jamaa Township.the city yawning alongside their open maws, the phantom, his black pupil bouncing around his white eyeball to check for any witnesses, slunk out of the brush. Leaves fell around his dark, gooey body as he made a face with his eye at some rainbow goo somebody left behind, probably from Brady's filthy lab set. That Twoleg scientist's concoctions ranged from brilliant to decent to oh-my-Zios-I'm-going-to-hurl, probably because he was more of an animal researcher invited by Mira (just like Tierney Thys), not a chemist.
Unfortunately, the Phantom had to slosh through some of the latter concoction, feeling the sticky and warm liquid grope at its skin.
Every leaf blowing around the corner was a prying eye to the phantom, every creak of Jam Mart Clothing's ancient door was a gasp by a bystander, every rustling sticky note on the bulletin board a growl of animosity from a Jamaasian Hero. Although the silence of the once-lively city was untouched and blessed, the Phantom couldn't help but shudder at every substantial noise, polluting the air further with its untimely musk.
After what should've been a minute but was fifteen, the night gave way to the sparkling, shimmering statue of Mother Sky herself, as if a partition were being swiftly removed by invisible hands.
"Zooks.." muttered the phantom, so mesmerized it came out as barely a whisper.
The spread wings of Mira seemed to carry promise of a great land of hope, as the forces of Light strove for, the closed eyes emanating serenity, her copper and turquoise feathers individually breathtaking, her legs bent and claws closed as if a slippery fish were being held in it. Her arched neck and round head seemed to be as sharp as a dagger, yet compassionate and forgiving at the same time. On its pedestal were weathered engraved bronze words reading "MIRA, MOTHER OF EVERYTHING IN JAMAA."
Although millenia of graffiti covered it, her shrine's marble columns still stood tale and pale, crumbling yet venerable. The arches seemed to let in positive energies, the vines all thriving as if life itself bled from Mira, the cobblestones very chipped yet as sturdy as an old tree.
A fleck of dust hit the Phantom's black skin, jolting it back to reality.
"Hello, nameless phantom, wake up, I'm getting bored of you just float there. Seriously, do you fart rainbows like Nyan Cat? No? Then wake up!" it seemed to chide.
The night started to brighten, and to the Phantom's horror, the noise of the day before slowly but surely began to revive itself as yawning Jamaasians trickled back into the Township to advertise their events or to simply wake up. It felt the spirit of Jamaa Township begin to awaken alongside them in leaps and strides.
The phantom's seven tentacles started to undulate in panic, while the eighth held up an opaque yellow stone as if to present it to the side of Mira's body, and began to chant nervously.(The phantom, not the tentacle. Should I whack you with a sword repeatedly to make your IQ go up?) The stone had appeared out of thin air, either pooped out by the air or summoned from the Duat.
Probably the latter.
As the phases of the incantation lapsed by, a persistent, blue and white fire grew inside the stone, first an ember, then a flame, then an inferno licking at the sides of the stone, clamoring to escape, to devour everything in its path...
No.
This flame was controlled.
Mira was the goddess of order, peace, in a way, the anti-Apophis. Although Zios did not originally intend for Mira to be the anti-Apophis, she now essentially was.
From the chest of the statue, a blue orb emerged with a droning humming sound, a light twinkling from within. A cool breeze swept over the Township, and from the clouds above, a beam of light spotlighted the levitating orb, specks of energy peeling off of its exterior.
Sweat of black goo dripped down the brow of the Phantom as the spell Cosmo searched for unfolded before it.
Cracks of purple energy not unlike a boomseed boulder's spread across the orb, and larger flakes of the orb came off like eggshell pieces, revealing a blinding white light from within. From the orb spread holographic wings that resembled Mira's, yet were transparent, had flecks of every color of the rainbow dancing within it, and were tipped with a faint yellow glow.
BASHIIING!
Blinding light coming from the orb radiated outward like a shockwave of sheer energy (which it was), inducing the growl of thunder high above. Lightning struck the Mira Statue, sending up clouds of dust. A bonfire of light enveloped the entire shrine, sending the few Jamaasians nearby in wonder, confusion and shock. The very spirit of the Township seemed to hold its breath.
When the dust finally settled, the statue was still standing as the legendary bane of the Phantoms, but the corona was now gone, marking the statue as a normal artifact to even the most impaired. The shrine still buzzed with the life of Jamaa, the magical veins of the Duat still branching out from Mira's power, but no longer did all of her power stay in the statue.
Like a blot of ichor, the golden blood of immortals, cracked, blackened glass had formed around the statue, as if Jamaa had shattered in those moments of wonder and shrunk to wrap around the pedestal.
Where the phantom had been, a shallow crater doted with evaporating time energy drops smoked, the smoke billowing up before dissipating.
Apparently, the Jamaasians would be wondering what had happened for a while.
Where the orb once had been, a white wolf stood, intertwining marks on its fur glowing with power, and a mysterious pink scar running over its eye, as if its very being had been scarred, not just its pelt.
The wolf took flight.
Evada was training with Greely and her friends when the terrible news arrived.
She had had a rough day, since traveling through the Duat (and ending up in the Phantom Vortex twice for no apparent reason) had been harder than anticipated, since Apophis was growing in power and his magical presence was messing up her power. When they'd finally arrived at the Alpha Hut, though, mid-walk to the Alpha Hut, Pink had collapsed suddenly, and they'd had to lug her the rest of the way frantically.
Cosmo had taken Pink into his custody after winking at Evada, and afterwards, Lisa had deployed them for some "enrichment training", aka "Let's Go Beat Up Straw Dummies" day. By Lisa's stern and weary face, Evada'd guessed that the Phantoms were growing in power, destroying some of the last safe havens outside of the borders, and that Pink was in a critical condition but she didn't want her comrades to know.
So, she'd been forced to stand outside in the sweltering heat (which she suspected Greely'd made just for their personal torture) for hours, training to make avatars of Miroza, Mira, Zilch and Zios to overcome various obstacles, using Twoleg weapons to impale dummies like shish-kebobs, and cast various spells that ranged from elemental tricks to cheese-throwing.
Evada quickly learned that cheese-throwing was an art to fear and admire when Tempest had nailed her with a large slice of cheese that exploded in her face.
Just when she wanted to scream out loud, two things came out in the form of the words of the grim-faced Marco, who'd stepped outside the hut to break the news.
First of all, a powerful entity had been spotted flying from the wreckage of some explosion at Jamaa Township, flying towards the Forgotten Valley, estimated to be headed towards the Mira Temple - and Ekrol, a mysterious rogue buck.
Evada's throat had went dry when that news had arrived.
But even worse, more personal news had arrived.
Pink was dead, taken by her illness.
Matilda and Gleam had nuzzled Evada with their scaled snouts, apparently fresh from baths that Harper personally had given them, but the shock quickly formed into thoughts even without their warmth.
She'd witnessed Pink unwillingly slay Savior, one of Pink's best friends, and seen the coffin go into the deep Duat, never to be seen again. Although Pink's cyborg parts and her organic parts had been warring for quite a while, she'd hidden her pain, misery and desperation for a cure. Evada had heard her friend moaning inside her room, cursing Frost and her assumed "friends" for everything that had gone wrong in a while.
It wasn't right, but she knew that bitterness had been Pink's only true supplement, seclusion her only true drink. She'd lived on the power of hatred, bitterness, grudges and tears to keep her going... until now.
She suspected that the illness, alongside the backlash of her hatred and the grief of losing Savior, had killed Pink in the end. Evada knew that Pink would probably rest in peace even though she'd died of her own "supplements", judged by Moon the Wise and purified where her "friend", Snow, had been cleansed, then sent to a ethereal paradise in the Land of the Dead where she'd party forever and be revered by generations of ghosts to come. She knew that the horrible fate of roaming the world as a Core, maybe a Prelate if you were lucky, probably wouldn't fall on Pink's shoulders.
But "probably" wouldn't be enough in the world of Jamaa.
Waves of worry lapped against Evada's heart as she concentrated on improving her own skills instead of repeating Pink's grief over Savior, although lopping off straw heads provided little comfort for the cold claws of freshly reaped death.
She would never think of Pink again after that.
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