SEIRO'S STORYBOOKS

A vast, pale-blue space with white motes of dust floating everywhere. Rainbow colored fluid flows throughout the imposing expanse, constantly moving and shifting in every direction. In this world, the concept of Up and down hold no meaning, nor the rule of gravity that exists in other planes of existence. Here, you move about through sheer force of will, though no normal human can do so here. There is no breathable atmosphere, no solid matter, simply unique types of energy moving through the expanse. That isn’t to say this place was a void; in it existed all manner of alien phenomena that was beyond the grasp of most simple folk who only know of life on the farm or in the large cities they called home. Only those versed in magic would be mentally prepared enough to understand this space. However, the utter unknowability of this space wasn’t malicious. In fact, it simply gave rise to healthy curiosity rather than incite insanity. Wonderment and caution are the common thoughts those not native to this realm have, though none have visited this place in millenia. The natives here are unique creatures of an alien intelligence. Their form, to anybody other than them, would be an inconsistent, indistinguishable cloud of particles. The only semblance of conformity their beings contained was that of color; the types of energies that make up most of what they are. Calling them creatures, however, is inaccurate. They have no discernable anatomy, no uniform biology, they simply exist as entities, which is the perfect name for their race. These entities, however, hold no such concept as race. They simply know that they exist. They are ignorant about many of the universe’s machinations, such as the existence of different dimensions, or planes of existence and even the concept of magic. Not that they were unable to know, just that they had no need to go out and discover these things. Their existence was one they thoroughly and near-infinitely enjoyed, as their beings do not degrade with the passage of time or the use of their powers. The powers of creation, the power to will into existence anything their adept and imaginative minds could conceive.
In the beginning, they were few in number compared to other races and their creations were nothing more than energy condensed into geometric shapes. They applied conformity and rationale to the endless plane of energy, and spent long periods of time admiring their own work and that of their comrades. In a few centuries, the Entities changed and evolved their styles of creation like art periods. They would wrought structures of varying sizes with intricate detail, expand on old designs, hold festivals and creation contests, a society and civilization lacking any form of violence bar heated competition for admiration among their peers. Destruction was not something their minds had ever conceived.
The idea of destruction was not thought up, but learned due to a visit by outside entities. These entities were serpentine in nature, and could perfectly flow through the plane with ease. These creatures came into contact with the Entities and were abhorred by what they saw: Stable, constant forms of matter. They grew enraged and tore apart the Entities’ creations, ignoring the entities themselves as they reduced their work back to the primordial energies that made up the plane.The Entities were enraged by these acts of violence, something they had never felt before. The utter despair and anger at their beloved creations being dismantled shook them to their very being. What they created next annihilated the invaders. Beams of searing energy similar to the acid the invaders spit, rods of their rage incarnate used to bash the creatures to a pulp just as the invaders’ tentacles had crushed their creations, various methods of magical attacks, similar in nature to the dismantling of their works the invaders had done, that culled the invaders’ forces until they appeared to retreat back to whence they came. The loss of their creations deeply wounded the Entities and they vowed to never forget them so long as they existed. They named these entities Proteans so that they could easily remember them and associate them with the destruction they caused. They also used the concept of naming on their creations so that even if something was destroyed, it could live on in their memories and be spoken of with ease. The entities also suffered the loss of their own kind, something that has never happened before. What was left of the bodies torn apart by the invaders was inert dust; incapable of absorbing energy or taking form. Their deaths gave rise to naming themselves as well, so that the people could be remembered with ease. The Entities vowed to become ever-vigilant of invaders, those that would seek to destroy what they create, so that they may never again suffer as they had. No attack came hence, though they never once relaxed. Centuries past, and, perhaps in spite of the previous invaders, their creations grew ever-more elaborate, with great care taken in their construction. The Prism Citadel being the foremost example: a Cathedral constructed of a rainbow of colors solidified into a material known to them as Prism. In it, the Entities began researching magic, discussed how their society should be run, and shared their ideas with each other. They also performed a never-before done ritual: the creation of another entity.
The first Entity made in this way was formed out of the traits of all seventy-two existing Entities. The Seventy-third personality was not a clean meshing of the seventy-twos’ persona’s, but specific traits taken and applied to the entity. The Entity Alfishansea gave it the desire for calm, Yvingodol gave it the love of the unexpected, and seventy other such traits were applied to the seventy-third, but a cohesive individual did not spawn. Instead, the seventy-third was a near-mindless drone, only becoming sentient when the given traits applied, such as exclaiming appreciation for the color blue, or crying when something broke. If specific situations such as those appeared, it was just like a person, but otherwise it was a mindless copy floating about the Prism Citadel. The Seventy-Two bemoaned their failure, and pitied their flawed creation. They tried their best to provide the situations that would activate the seventy-thirds’ sentience, only because they loathed the thoughtless existence it otherwise lead. They vowed to research into the creation of another sentient being so that they may bestow upon the seventy-third a unique personality, so that it may live and enjoy life and create. They devoted most of their time to it, as well as spending time with the seventy-third.
One day, the Seventy third happened to float into the library while a dozen of the seventy-two researched the only way they knew how: experimentation. While they did this, they ignored the seventy-third, who stopped at the Entity named Galhoov, and seemed to watch it experiment. Galhoov was creating a small, round being. Her theory was that the Seventy-third needed a purpose, so she was creating other objects with purpose to see what they would to. When given the purpose of collecting something the object would only ever collect or try to collect what it was told to. When given the purpose of something vague, like “to create”, it simply formed other object that looked exactly like itself, who also created more of the same object, who created more objects. In the midst of this, the seventy-third spoke something they never heard it say.
“Why are you doing that?”
Galhoov was startled, and focused on the Seventy-third.
“What? Why? It’s for research…”
“What are you researching that would require doing this?”
“We’re researching you!” Galhoov exclaimed, surprise and excitement in it’s voice.
The Seventy-third grew silent, just as it always does when it loses it’s sentience. Galhoov lost all the excitement she had gained and did nothing for a moment. Yvingodol was the one that spoke the answer to their unspoken question.
“He was activated by your trait, Galhoov.”
“What? My trait?”
“Yes, the trait we took from you and gave to him. Your curiosity. It activated the Seventy-third.”
“Something so vague activated him? Seventy-third has never spoken like that before…”
At this, Falbadoor interjected;
“That’s because we have only ever activated him with the specific traits. Let’s gather a list of the traits we incurred upon Seventy-third.”
And with that, the entities created a list of all seventy-two traits applied to the Seventy-third. After doing so, they crossed off specific traits like “cries when something breaks” and amassed a list of 6 vague traits they had given him. There was Curiosity, as they had found out, and there was also “Obsession With New Things”, “Wants to be helpful”, “Loves to explore new areas”, “Seeks to Understand” and “Is very friendly.”
After isolating these traits, Galhoov asked
“If it was a simple matter of activating the traits, then shouldn’t Seventy-thirds’ curiosity have been activated at it’s conception? Also, shouldn’t it be very friendly all the time?”
Galhoov was answered by Yvingodol
“You can only be very friendly in your actions and, as we know, Seventy-third can only act within the given traits. Remember when one of Galhoov’s creations collapsed due to other experiments? Seventy-third was present, cried, and also tried to console Galhoov. We also created the physical body and memories, as those were things we had along with personality traits.”
One of the other researchers replied to Yvingodol with an exclamation.
“That’s why most of those traits didn’t apply! It already knew about most things around the Citadel, and thus wouldn’t want to “Seek to Understand” or Explore the world around it: what it already knew! Nor could the desire to be helpful appear for a similar reason; it knew no one needed help doing anything and it hasn’t seen us experiment. The reason it has activated when witnessing Galhoov’s experiment was because it has seen this new phenomenon and was curious, wanted to help, and was fascinated with the new experience.”
“Perhaps we should send Seventy-third somewhere new? Maybe these new experiences would keep seventy-third constantly activated!”
“That wouldn’t be the same! Seventy-third needs sentience no matter the circumstance! It needs-”
“... I see.”
All discussion halted immediately as Seventy-third spoke those two words.
They all focused their attention on Seventy-third. Their excitement surged and expectations raised immensely as they listened carefully to the voice that was an amalgam of all of theirs.
“I’m incomplete… you all want to make me whole… but, sentience… I don’t fully understand…”
The other waited for Seventy-third to continue and, after a moment of drawn out silence, Yvingodol spoke.
“You saw Galhoov’s experiment, yes? The object’s purpose is to create, so they create the only thing they know: what they are made of and their purpose. They lack sentience… they lack the awareness that they are objects whose purpose is to create. Just as you lack to awareness that you are an Entity.”
Another silence followed Yvingodol’s explanation. Eventually, the Seventy-third spoke.
“... I want to understand. Awareness… Sentience… it must be this feeling, right now. I cannot remember anything in between being… activated by you guys. I need a purpose to keep me activated. What is my purpose?”
Falbador, one of the researches, was the one to respond.
“Why, to create of course! To create and protect your creations!”
Yvingodol interjected.
“But, just like the object, all Seventy-third can do is create copies or what it already knows. All it would do is copy our works or maintain them. It needs something more…”
Alfishansea gave the long searched for answer.
“It needs to decide that for itself. It needs the ability to choose. It needs autonomy.”

And with that, the twelve researches went to work to give Seventy-third “Autonomy”.

“Oi, slow yer skinny arse, ya darned elf! D’ya think I can keep up with ya?!”

A stout dwarf with a dirty blond, double-braided beard clad in iron armor shouted in a ragged gasp as he chased a female elf up a steep hill. His weapons of choice, two Dwarven Waraxes, rattled about on his side uncomfortably, and would leave bruises on his thighs as the handles beat against his legs. He wouldn’t have this problem if he’d had proper time to prepare, but the elf had insisted they get moving right away.

“Curse this flighty broad, what does she take me for? Bah, Galtifoth better repay me for this!”

The dwarf continued to mutter curses in the direction of both the elf and Galifoth for his current situation. He spent his time running thinking of some choice harsh words for the both of them, and soon he reached the top of the hill. The elf was leaning against a tree, seemingly nonchalant, but her pose was anything but carefree. The dwarf recognized that she was in deep concentration, scanning the forest, taking in the sounds, and getting the feel of the earth. He stopped running, and caught his breath while he waited for the elf to complete her reconnaissance.

After a quick scan of his surroundings, he noticed someone was missing. As a look of concern began to show on his face, the elf woman turned and smiled at him.

“Ha, you old softy. You’re worried about Kenith, aren’t you?”

Her question seemed to be more of a matter-of-fact declaration, and the dwarf frowned as he tried to cover himself.

“Bah, never know when the dog’s gonna play some trick. No doubt one you’ve plotted yerself.”

He glared at the elf, who made a gesture of mock surprise, putting one hand over her mouth.

“Who, me? Come now, Dmitri, do you think so little of me!?”

Her voice seemed to be full of concern, indicating his words had hurt her, but he merely waved his hand at her, looked away, and replied with a curt “Bah!”

The elf woman brushed her long blond hair out of her face and laid a hand on the handle of her longsword, as her expression suddenly changed, and she looked to the west. Dmitiri looked in the same direction as her and saw nothing, but he knew this girl’s senses were far better than his.

“What is it Feylith?” He asked, but the elf hushed him as her eyes scanned the forest, her body tense. Her eyes opened wide as Dmitri began to hear the sound of loud footsteps. Instinctively, Dmitri began to fall back, drawing his two axes.

“Thems are a giant’s footsteps.” He declared, and Feylith drew her bow, as if agreeing, and rushed in the opposite direction. Dmitri followed as he asked Feylith for her plan.

“We’ll find a clearing so you can take the giant on openly. No doubt Kenith is drawing the giant to us. While you distract him, I’ll disable him with my arrows, then you can ask whatever you like. With an established plan, Dmitri calmed considerably as he ran in the direction of Feylith. The sound of the giant’s footsteps grew louder, and angry yells in giant that only Dmitri could understand began to catch up to them. Feylith heard happy panting before she heard the giant, and smiled to herself.

“That dog better not get himself hurt…”

A few minutes later, and a clearing presented itself. Dmitiri took a stand in the center while Feylith went to the edge and hid behind a tree. She pulled out an arrow and waited as the sounds of a frustrated giant got closer. Dmitiri seemed to be chuckling at what the giant was saying, and Feylith wondered for a moment what that was. A moment later, a wolf with dark brown fur, leather pads surrounding its body like armor, and piercing blue eyes. His tongue was out, and spittle was flying from his maw as it charged Dmitiri. Dmitri stood his ground as the wolf leapt over him as the giant burst into the clearing.
The giant was about 12 feet tall, a bit shorter than the various trees of the forest. His skin was a pale green and covered in dirt, it’s bald head was covered in the scratches of tree branches, as was its face, which displayed a barely contained fury within it’s ugly features. It wielded a large club, which was as broad as a dwarf and as tall as a human, and covered in thorny vines that seemed to drip with venom. These vines extended from the club and onto the arm of the giant, who didn’t seem to mind. Right now, all it cared about was crushing that annoying wolf that stole his rabbit from his snare. However, his rage subsided slightly as he regarded the dwarf in the clearing. Slightly confused, he considered why a dwarf would be in this forest, but immediately dismissed the question as unnecessary. Who cares why this dwarf was here? He’ll squash it just like the wolf. His anger resurged as he raised his club and charged the dwarf, who remained grim-faced and stood firmly in place. The giant got even more furious, and brought down the club on the dwarf with extreme force and dented the ground. He was slightly surprised at the lack of resistance, considered the dwarf wore metal armor, but grinned maliciously at the unexpected ease of dispatching the foe. His smile was quickly disrupted as he felt a sharp pain under his club-arm. Raising it revealed the dwarf, who was unscathed and had blood dripping from his war axes. The giant furiously delivered a kick with his right leg and brought his left hand down to grab the dwarf. The dwarf dodged the kick and and moved under her legs. His left arm would have caught the dwarf had an arrow not suddenly pierced his palm, causing him to delay while he registered the wound. He grunted in pain as he tried desperately to search where the arrow had come from, but was instantly reminded of the dwarf as his right calf was cut deep by those axes.
The giant became afraid, as the damned dwarf was too quick on his feet and the arrows began to pierce his joints, slowly rendering his arms useless. In desperation, the giant summoned the magic of his club as he jammed it into the ground. The vines on the club surged into the ground, and the terrain around the giant became a tangle of thorny vines. He heard the dwarf’s surprised grunt as the vines surely trapped him. It didn’t matter how many arrows came at him now, he would be able to squash the dwarf with ease now. He turned around to see the dwarf squirming in the vines, and yelled in delight as he brought down his fist. The arrows piercing his arm could hold him back no longer as his balled fist slammed into the entangled dwarf. The dwarf exerted a pained grunt, but still seemed to be alive. The giant thought nothing of it, considered he wore armor, and brought his fist up.to deliver another painful blow, when his backside was raked with extreme pain. As he lurched over the dwarf, he reached around his back and tried to grab hold of the furry mass assaulting him, just as a twig of an elf ran up to the dwarf. The giant was preoccupied with the beast on his back to pay heed to the elf who, according to him, stupidly abandoned her ranged assault to help the dwarf. The giant shook his back left to right swiftly, and he felt the wolf start to slide back and forth. After the giant swerved to the right and caught the wolf by it’s hind legs, he threw it with all his might against a tree at the edge of this clearing. The giant then looked back as the elf finished freeing the dwarf from the vines. The dwarf then yelled complicated dwarvish the giant could not understand, and suddenly, in a flash of light, the dwarf disappeared. Thinking the dwarf had ran away, the giant looked at the elf, who had a smug smile on her face and didn’t draw her longsword.
She was all the more foolish to him, but as he tried to step forward to grab her, he felt a curious feeling, or rather a lack of a certain feeling. He could no longer feel his feet, and when he tried to move forward, his body slid and he fell face first onto the ground. The pain at the stumps where his feet should have been surged through the giant, who thrashed about until the elf woman seemed to cast a spell that locked his arms with vines, turning his trump card against him.
The dwarf walked up to the giant and bashed it on the head with the handle of his war axe. The dwarf then spoke to him like he was a child.
“Where are the ruins?”
The giant’s response was in his own language
“Piss off!”
Immediately after the reply, he felt an unbearable stinging sensation at the stumps of his legs. In response to his screams of pain, he heard the elf say in dwarvish
“Say now, it would be a shame if you couldn’t grow these back, right?”
The giant was confused at first, but soon connected “grow these back” to refer to his feet and responded in dwarvish:

“Uh! Like you do that, stinking elf!”

“Oi, pay attention.” Another bop on the head brought the giant’s face back to the dwarf, who said
“Aye, yer right, but if you don’t answer us, we’ll just have to cut off yer arms and leave ya for the beasts. Eaten alive isn’t the best way to go, so me ancestor once told me. Or, ya could cooperate and tell me: where are the ruins.”

The giant’s eyes filled with the fear of the pain he would go through if they left him crippled, and quickly told him the location of the ruins.

“Very good then, now I’ll dispatch of ye quickly.”
And with that, the dwarf walked to the giant next, raised in axe, and yelled the same as before.
“Dash Slash!”
And with that announcement, the dwarf was on the other side of the giant’s head, which fell shortly before hitting the ground. The dwarf put away his axes as the elf ran to check on the wolf.

“Kenith, how are you? Not too hurt, I assume? Alright, where does it hurt…”
She whispered softly to the wolf, who seemed to make no attempt of communicating. But still, the connection between the two of them was clear as Feylith inspected him.
“Well, aren’t you gonna thank him for saving you?”

“Bah, that dog merely made it easier. I would’ve been fine.”

“Even after another hit or two from that giant?”

“Bah, I’d have broken free of the vines meself! I don’t need no elf’s help when it comes to slaying giants!”

The dwarf quickly stopped Feylith from her retort and said

“We ain’t got time for this, either way. Now that we know where the ruins are, we can head there immediately. No sense wasting time here, let’s get a move on.”

With that the dwarf began to secure his gear and started to move with Feylith and Kenith towards the direction the giant said the ruins were in. Feylith was on alert for ambush, while Dmitri deftly showed a chunk of dried meat to Kenith and pat him on the head. The wolf looked at him, almost knowingly, and Dmitri replied with a hushed bah, and moved ahead of him.