Vault of the Dais of Lost Souls, Sanctum DeVulzizz
Tell
Posted: Jan 1 2011, 09:58 PM


A Songbird


Group: Rito Mod
Posts: 14
Member No.: 4
Joined: 21-June 10



The Vault of the Dais of Lost Souls, or, as it is more often called, Sanctum DeVulzizz, is the home of the monk-like Vakkaro DeVulzizz. He is known to be a wise scholar, sage and impartial though often distant. Many amongst the citizenry of Sky City, as do most people of the world, suffer personal trifles- issues and internal conflicts that perhaps are not the most important things to work out. There are always more pressing issues, it seems, but even then some time must be taken for the worries of the individual rather than these potentially world-changing conflicts. Troubled individuals, from all ends of the socioeconomic ladder, oft seek counsel on such matters. Clergy are one popular set of advisors, as are professionals trained to help people work out such things. Vakkaro DeVulzizz, the Wanderer From Afar, the Wise Bird, the Pious Vulture, and any other epithets he has been given since arriving in the mystical floating city, is another popular source of personal advice. He is known for asking for little in return, being free of judgement, and having insights perhaps even beyond the mortal or physical.

The Vault of the Dais of Lost Souls has had that name since before the Oocca were joined by other races in their floating realm. It has long since lost its original purpose, though the name has stuck. Many believe it was once a place where Oocca filled with guilt over transgressions went to meditate. The structure is itself a small island near the outskirts of the City. It dangles above the clouds like a massive stalagmite of arcane engines meant to defy gravity, clinging to a large dome which is surrounded by three small bridges arranged equidistantly from their companions. A small walkway rings the dome- the bridges each connect this walkway to the roads of the much larger city-islands that rest around it. The dome has one entrance.

Inside the massive dome is another dome, with its entrance on the opposite side of the structure to the outer dome's. One would need to traverse the strange ring-shaped outer room formed by the double dome to reach the inner entrance. This ringroom is Vakkaro's home, serving as his place of living. Esoteric arrangements of chairs litter this ring, places for the wise counselor to meet with his clients. The inner dome is where he rests, but none besides him have been within it in a very long while.

Tell stood at the entrance to the main dome. The wind blew the fluttering ends of his scarf across his mouth and beak, and forced him to squint. With confidence, he grabbed the archaic knocker of the ancient doorway, and slammed it as hard as he could three times, and awaited the wise Vakkaro DeVulzizz, who also happened to be his father's cousin.


--------------------
Brazen swoop through night's sky,
A crimson arc, no wonder why,
Poet's blade and soldier's pen,
None told Tell shall Tell again.-Tell Lee Foune
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Vakkaro
Posted: May 10 2011, 12:21 PM





Group: Rito
Posts: 2
Member No.: 54
Joined: 15-December 10



Within the inner dome, the Vault Within the Vault, the old vulture Vakkaro DeVulzizz attended to his latest charge by the light cast by dozens of dim candles. The man had put up no fight; Vakkaro's ambush in the wee hours of the morning had taken him completely by surprise. The Vulture didn't care who he was, what his name used to be. He was dead now, little more than ragged bones and shreds of cloth. The Vulture's black appetite had proven quite ferocious...

There used to be regret. Pangs of dark hunger used to feed regret but now regret, the whispered apologies to the dead which in times long past were marred by sobs and tears, was nothing but habit. Caring words administered to a corpse, a macabre parody of bedside manners- Vakkaro knew not why he did it, only that it seemed right. Here in his sanctum, sheltered by an ablative layer of calm and enlightenment, nothing had to make sense. His whole existence as the proprietor of the Vault had been spent turning what may have been a holy place into a shrine of bones and malcontent spirits. The remnants of the man lay sprawled out on the Dais of Lost Souls itself, an octagonal stone slab in the exact center of the inner dome, carved with runes that, as far as Vakkaro had been able to decipher, described the challenges a lost soul had to overcome to find absolution. DeVulzizz cared not for the fanciful imaginings on the Dais, which he presumed to have served as a seat for meditation on one's life (and his research into the matter had been as extensive as could possibly be), but he definitely appreciated the symbolism. Empty eye sockets glared down from every possible angle of the candlelit chamber, all directed with mathematical precision at the direct center of the Dais. Thousands of skulls, each one once belonging to a victim of the Vulture, were fitted to the dome's curved walls. Each one had payed witness to the accumulation of all those that came after, bore silent testimony to the strange ritualistic care he took to each new companion.

Vakkaro's raspy whispers echoed through the gloom of the dome. Slowly, he reached with both feathered hands and gripped the deceased man's skull. With an abrupt stop to his honeyed prayers for forgiveness, completely at odds with his actual feelings, he wrenched the skull free and held it aloft, high above his head. Turning slowly, he allowed every set of empty eyes to meet those of their new companion. "Excellent, EXCELLENT!" he crowed, a phrase he had repeated thousands of times before- this phrase, however, had only become more and more heartfelt as the walls had slowly filled up. He released the skull, and it hovered for a moment in the air as though free of gravity. "FIND YOUR PLACE!" the Vulture rasped, joy rising in his dark heart. The skull ignited in a flash of green light, and did as it was told, sweeping the walls for an empty space to occupy. It found one, and fitted itself neatly in place. The green fire around it faded.

They were all Bubbles. Thousands of them all locked in unlife, pretending to be inert. They were all Bubbles.

Vakkaro cackled to himself and dragged the remaining bones off the Dais, casting them carelessly across the floor to join the remains of about a dozen others. He would eventually get rid of them. Eventually.

With an abrupt turn about, he skulked, hunched over with age, out of the Inner Vault. He was done with the chamber, for now. He slammed the heavy wooden doors behind him as he left. Within the chamber, the candles continued to burn silently.
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Tell
Posted: May 23 2011, 09:54 PM


A Songbird


Group: Rito Mod
Posts: 14
Member No.: 4
Joined: 21-June 10



He struck the door again, recalling the words of the Winged Monk. "Come, come to my Sanctum any time of day! If I'm not at the door right away, just wait, I'll be there in a few minutes. Sometimes I get carried away in meditation, yes?" So wait he would.

Tell had already waited for what felt to him like hours. It was a mere quarter of an hour, in truth, but... the world was full of illusions.

Ever present wailing winds dusted the city's white stone edifices, but these were beneath the notice of Tell Lee Foune. He still squinted out of reflex, but such gales were beyond common in the heavenly domain, bleached by a sun but rarely screened by clouds. After all, when it rained in Hyrule, the City in the Sky sat above the weather's whims. Alone they were nothing, but the combination of ever-present sun, bone-white architecture, and howling gales gave the mid-day city an eerie quality, only intensified by the distant sounds of Oocca and Rito children playing. Their voices, really shouts and yells and laughter, were cast in the wind as echoing whispers and giggles. Added to it was the apparent lack of people in the area, and a nearby wind chime whose brass cylinders softly battered each other in an empty window frame.

It felt so empty and seemed so sad. It looked like the still-standing remains of a lost civilization. It was the lost remains of a still-standing civilization, found again. It was sad, but happy. Grand, but modest. It was haunted by the living...

No better description came to Tell's mind than that. Haunted by the living. Suddenly the Rito no longer felt the victim of an eerie atmosphere, but part of it. Another spook in a city of spooks. The thought was still quite unsettling. He felt cold. Poetry was in the air, everywhere but where it usually would be found- his lips could bring to bear no rhymes, no alliteration, nothing could give it justice.

Sky City could very well have been on the good end of Rapture. It would be just as haunting, just as beautiful, just as unnerving.

He had never thought about it before, but it could very well be that the Rito's rustic style was the only thing that preserved their sanity in such a ghostly place.

Rustic style, and the sagacity of one Vakkaro DeVulzizz.

It was a mere quarter of an hour before Vakkaro DeVulzizz finally answered his door, but the world was full of illusions, visions of an astral place, haunting whispers of joy and pain... It was a mere quarter of an hour when the cousin of Tell's father answered his door, and otherworldly things were on Tell's mind.


--------------------
Brazen swoop through night's sky,
A crimson arc, no wonder why,
Poet's blade and soldier's pen,
None told Tell shall Tell again.-Tell Lee Foune
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Tell
Posted: Jul 25 2011, 09:53 PM


A Songbird


Group: Rito Mod
Posts: 14
Member No.: 4
Joined: 21-June 10



"Ah, good morning, young master Telliam! I've been expecting you!" The old beaked man greeted, as he drew open the mighty door to his bizarre abode. "How was the funeral, boy? I'm sorry to hear about your father, he was a good man."

Tell nodded his head, slowly and sadly. "I did not attend, Mister DeVulzizz."

"Is that so?" Vakarro rasped, tilting his head and leveling his curious gaze to the bespectacled eyes of his cousin's son, who stood noticeably taller than he. "You did not attend to pay your respects to your father? I know you have your reasons, perhaps you would like to discuss further inside?" He gestured a pale hand through the stone doorway, into the cool dark of his abode.

"Within without,
Without a doubt,
My heart be pleading,
T'will be proceeding,
All emotions pour out.

I accept your offer, Mister DeVulzizz. You are far too kind, and I do wish to speak with someone on the matter."

"Clever boy, you always had a way with words. Come in, then, find a seat, make yourself at home!" Vakkaro DeVulzizz turned and hobbled with his cane back into his home. Tell fallowed with slow, measured footfalls. In truth, the old man was not so worn and weathered, spry as a spruce. He needed not his cane to walk, but using it made him feel... humbled, in an odd way. He was small, and looked as though he had a back bent with age, but his skin remained unblemished and his wrinkles were minor. They accented his appearance of age, without being TOO telling. No, he needed not hobble... But sometimes it helped people. Sometimes age was seen as wisdom...

Tell followed, and picked a large, comfortable couch to sit in. Vakkaro picked one across from him. "So, where to begn, young Master Tell? What is on your mind?"


--------------------
Brazen swoop through night's sky,
A crimson arc, no wonder why,
Poet's blade and soldier's pen,
None told Tell shall Tell again.-Tell Lee Foune
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Tell
Posted: Aug 15 2011, 11:09 PM


A Songbird


Group: Rito Mod
Posts: 14
Member No.: 4
Joined: 21-June 10



"Where to begin," began Tell as he slid into the leather chair. It gave a quiet squeak as its upholstery resisted the young Rito's weight. "Where to begin," he repeated to himself, quietly.

Vakarro, old vulture, dragged an armchair over to face the younger Rito, and plopped himself down in it. Stroking his pointed chin with bony fingers, he pried on, trying to tease Tell's emotions out of him. It was a skill he had mastered over the multitudinous years he had lived. "What is it, young Master Tell? There is much on your mind, I can see that. Speak at your leisure, but it is far easier to just talk than it is to compose emotions into something coherent beforehand, yes?"

"Yes, I suppose you are correct, sir. Fine, so be it. I feel lost; my family has strong traditions that I have defied at every turn. I disgrace myself and my father by not paying him last respects, but I fear that attending would have changed nothing. All I have done since leaving Sky City is write poetry, and while I enjoy that I wish there was something more. I want to make..."

"Slow down, boy, slow down!" The old vulture chuckled. "You DO have much on your mind. Little by little, boy. Explain, what do you mean by disgraced?"

Tell blinked a few times. "What"

"What do you mean by disgraced? What do you mean you have disgraced yourself? Or your father, for that matter?"

Tell blinked again. "Pretty much what I said."

"About not fallowing tradition?"

"Yeah."

"Oh."

Silence filled the room for a long and awkward minute. Tell shifted uncomfortably in his chair, and Vakarro furrowed his aged brow, more than a little concerned. Tell dared speak again. "What I meant to say was that I want to make something of my life. Something my father might still be proud of even though I didn't follow the path he had in mind."

"Then do it," the old man chided. "Just do it. Nothing is holding you back, boy. I think I've got you figured out. You had me confused for a moment, but I understand now. You're looking to do something great, yes? No need to say a thing, I already know. You want to change the world, make yourself into something someone can be proud of. There's no way to do it just by thinking about it, boy. You just have to go and do, and keep doing until you find something you can really get behind, boy. No one got great by wishing to be great, do you hear? You don't need advice, young master Telliam, I can see that now. You needed approval, validation, however else you want to put it. Just go out and do it." Vakarro was waving his arms somewhat bombastically by this point, and a large, almost silly grin sat beneath his hooked beak. For a moment the candles flickered, and that silly aspect vanished. Tell felt like he could detect whispers on the edge of his hearing, and the dancing shadows cast a sinister light upon the old man. Tell knew he was a kind heart (or so he thought), and let the thoughts pass.... but he could not without shuddering for a moment first.

The advice was solid, if not a little cliched. And the old man was right... maybe all he had needed was validation. Tell stood, eager to get out of the suddenly uncomfortable chamber and out into the ghostly winds of Sky City again, and thanked the old man, saying only "Thank you, I will," before leaving. Vakarro called out after him, "Anytime, boy, anytime!" but Tell was already gone, driven by the explainable impulse to flee.

Vakarro chuckled to himself in the flickering firelight, crossing his arms across his lap. "Silly boy. It's good to see someone stop daydreaming and start making change, it is. Darned shame that the world is stained by darkness. Darned shame that death and despair are the order of the day, that no change really matters at all... heheheh... Waste of youth, it is..."


--------------------
Brazen swoop through night's sky,
A crimson arc, no wonder why,
Poet's blade and soldier's pen,
None told Tell shall Tell again.-Tell Lee Foune
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