+Lûpkul+ [1st] [Lesser under Kotrestruu]

[MrMojoMordor 2413]

 

+Lûpkul+
(Lesser under Kotrestruu)
 

 

 

Bon’Ox felt his senses slowly coming back to him as he fell through the darkness…
The one-armed goblin opened his eyes & gazed at the darkness before him starting to take form:
First the clear blue sky would form around him.
Then the dirt beneath him fell into place - followed by gray stone bricks emerged & began organising themselves into an ornate & complex pattern made of geometrical shapes.
Then the light began to wane as the sky became pitchblack - an impossibly large roof forming above him.
Bon’Ox looked to the side to see if he could catch a glimpse of a wall forming on his horizon, yet the goblin was greeted by a half-finished wooden bookshelf that built itself towards the abyss above - filling itself with thousands of books. Ancient candles flickering alight.

Soon, Bon’Ox found himself in a labyrinth of bookshelves stacked to the brim with knowledge - from mathematics to astronomy to childrens fairytales.
In languages he knew & those he never had seen.
From lost knowledge to forbidden ones to those that were yet not written

As the feeling of falling had stopped, the blue one-armed goblin stood up slowly with a groan.

“Finally - afta many tikz ob faileur, mi haz found da realm ob Kortezuu..” the goblin mumbles to himself as he stretches his legs a bit, scowling in slight discomfort.

A feeling of static running through his legs after sitting so long & meditating in front of the Altar of The Bastion Temple of Saint King Caius in Numendil.
He hopes no priest or extremely pious templar finds his unresponsive body as his soul travels through the spirit realm.

Bon’Ox doesn’t know how long he’s been walking through the maze of knowledge.
There is no flow of time among the pillars of wood and paper - only his footsteps on the intricate brick floor. The once interesting books filling the sky-high shelves have turned into a colourful & disorienting noise threatening to overload his senses as he looks around for an exit.

Yet even when he has moments of doubt. Feeling as if he’s seen this particular set of a book series, the same candle arrangement, the same piece of paper talking about the uses of animal fat - the goblin marches on.

He’s struggled to reach this realm..
He won’t leave till he reaches his destination.
He mutters a quiet prayer.

Bon’Ox finds himself before a large archway leading into darkness.
He’d scream out in glee if he had any strength to do so. He takes a deep breath to gather himself and walks into the dark room.
He believes he’s found his way.

As the one-armed goblin’s eyes begin to get accustomed to the darkness, he finds himself within a basilica filled with countless statues around him. A faint pale light from the dome high above lighting his surroundings. As Bon’Ox walks forward, glancing around he sees sculptures of descendants in all shapes and sizes.
From Soldiers, Knights and Kings kneeling in prayer.
To Priests and Shamans, their hands raised to the sky.
To whole families gathered together, clasping their hands before food.
There are also creatures he does not recognize, sometimes in rather odd positions as they

call to their many gods.

Pushing forwards, through the fields of statues in prayer stretching to the horizon, Bon’Ox feels his heart begin to beat faster - his chest filling with religious fervour with each step he takes.

 

A voice echoes out from all around him as it bounces off each statue surrounding him with a thunderous boom of a cannon:
GHASHN-LAB GRATUM - DâG OB KRUG
(“State your purpose - Son of Krug”)
 

Bon’Ox winces in pain for a moment as he covers his ear, pulling his head between his shoulders as a reflex while the words of a spirit’s command echo around him.

The goblin finally responds:
BON’OX-IZG, DâG OB GOB AGH OB OX-BAIARK

(“I am Bon’Ox, Son of Gob Ztabba-Zniffa and of Ox clan.”)

 

His own words carry none of the weight that the spirits did, a whisper in the large temple he’s found himself in. A feeling of pain in his mouth as speaking Blah feels like gnawing on cactus to his curse-healed tongue.
Bon’Ox could feel something peer into him with a quiet hum, at least he thinks it’s the spirit & not the countless statues around him.

After a long pause, Bon’Ox calls out into the room once more - trying to sound both assertive and respectful.
BRUS-IZG GOLM BUGUD - GHASHN-IZG BUGUD-LAB BûBHOSH FRûM.

(“I have given my name - please tell me yours, great spirit.”)

Bon’Ox can barely finish his request when an answer come - yet it’s not a thunderous boom like before, but as if a quill is carving them into his skull, word by word:
“HûN-ISHI OB TURU-IZG.
AMUT-IZG DRAAGH-AMIRZ FALTORZ AGH AMUT-IZG SHATûP-KALA!
ZUGZ-IR OB RûGH TâRPUKHLANR-RO, THRAK-U OB ZGUR-GUND NARGHAASH NIIN.
ASH-IZG AGH NAU OB RûGH LûP-DHAK - THRAK-U OB NARGHUG GHUGSHI AGH MAARBH-IZG OB AMIRZ-UL KHLAARLûP!

KANON-IZG - OB LûP AGH TUM AGH ZGUR-GHASHNUM”

(“I am in the hearts of many.
I am which builds places of worship & which tears down castles.
I am on the lips of every holy man & bringer of thunderous stone hail.
I am at the start & end of every religious ceremony - the bringer of miracles & maker of GODS.)
(I AM KANON - OF PRAYER AND BELIEF AND CANNONS.”)

The goblin’s hand reaches out to his aching head, finally gasping air - a sting in his throat.
Only now realising that KANON had spoken through him.

The lesser Immortal spirit of Prayer seems to wait for his answer, Bon’Ox could feel every single one of the statues peering into him.
For a moment the goblin gathers himself as if trying to sort out his thoughts after a spirit had forced itself into them. Finally Bon’Ox calls out with conviction, his words echoing back in the room:
“KANNON-HAI - TUL-IZG KHL-LAT GHûLUM-ûR. AGH ZA-ûR, KUL-IZG KRAMPûRZ PAR-LAB!
(“Great KANON - i am here to ask for your aid. And for this, i’m willing to be your loyal vessel to you!.”)

 

An array of geometric shapes begin to gather at the edge of the pale light cast from above.
Slowly they begin to arrange themselves - phasing through one another till they combust into a continuous, never-ending explosion of colours in the shape of a cross - it’s light shining upon Bon’Ox:
BHOGHAD

GAAKH GADHAAL-U DHRAAG-IZG DHAK-LûP DâR - agh GOLM-IZG LAT GHûLUM-IZG KRAMP-U!”
(“Very well! Let it be that you will build me a mighty shrine - and I will grant you my power to do so.”)

Bon’Ox’s body is filled to the brim with religious fervour - feeling as if he himself will burst open before KANON as the spirit accepts him. He opens his mouth to try and thank him with words - only for a most primal holler of gratitude exiting his tusk-filled, jewelled maw…

 

As Bon’Ox awakens before the altar - he grabs a knife & carves onto the back of the wooden cross before him.
 

+Lûpkul+
(Praise be)

OOC:

[Lesser Immortal Spirit KANON under Kortesuu]
 

Spoiler

As all pacts, this is not IRP known - only to those who were present.
I had a little fun with it :D
((Also art not mine))
Shrine: TBA

 

Edited May 28, 2025 by MrMojoMordor

[Jihnyny 5233]

bro made kanon canon

[ThatFunkyBunch 2818]

I haven't seen anyone talk about Kanon in long time...