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MT 315 - Ayamari Part 1
🕑 Added 2025-10-20 17:45:15 +0000 UTCa/n: Chapter 2/2 for today
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SYSTEM ADDENDUM ADDED BY USER NAME: SC2
ADDENDUM NOTE: Mined from infodump 798A from Ayamari. Ayamari added the following context note: “Do with this what you will.” This is identical to her previous 797 context notes. Perhaps we should remove that as a mandatory field. I’d prefer to eliminate all barriers to obtaining her unique perspective on events.
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Ayamari had little taste for the decor of the fanciful round room and its buffet of colors, ornaments, and gaud. It was static, lifeless, understood completely upon its viewing. An arrayed sensory experience that gave only the most cursory of attention to those senses beyond the mundane. It was the literal definition of surface-level, a perfunctory attempt at eliciting excitement, and she wondered if she’d ever found such spectacle to move her. Perhaps at some point in her past, when she was… lesser.
She wondered what it was about humanoid psychology that evoked a shared hallucination that attributed value to this flavor of presentation. It could not be eaten, could not be put to use in any biological function, and served to satisfy no base need of the organism. Yet, it was a commonality amongst civilizations, despite the disparate anatomies and psychologies to which it appealed. Of course, such differences in modes of modeling reality were barely such. We were all more similar than not.
She had answers as to why dead aesthetics induced pleasure, more than plenty to satisfy even the most curious of anthropologists, but not enough to satisfy herself. There was something to it, something ineffable, as it was for all things once their physical root had been reached, and mortal purpose could no longer be sustained as a valid theory of existence. It all broke down into an infinite spiral of nothing, such that she was sometimes convinced that nothing had ever existed, and that nothing ever would.
At the very least, the hosts had provided some potted plants, but it was truly the very least. In any case, watching the xylem and phloem ebb up and down each frond was relaxing enough to calm her as she was met with so many who were of little import.
Those who, despite their power and influence, squandered it for selfish gains. The isolated wealth. The petty bickering. They by their own choice meant nothing. Give her one ordinary, talentless peasant who had nothing other than the will to act over a thousand mindless bureaucrats, diplomats, and fancy hats diluting the common good with their myopic self-interest.
And it was always the same conversation.
“How did you grow the jungle so fast?”
Magic.
“How do you rule such a vast and diverse population with no vassals, lords, or governors?”
It’s easy.
“Can you confirm this rumor?”
No.
“Can you give us something very valuable with no guarantee we’ll use it responsibly?”
No.
“Can you just tell us -”
No.
Everyone’s gums flapped so slowly, their vocal chords sloshing back and forth in a cacophony of chittered slaps, their wet breath oozing through their sinuses and blowing mucus out their various holes, their blood pumping through slick noodles until it hit their brain and fired a neuron to keep those gums flapping. Ayamari could see it all, and at least grass grew. This was like watching grass eat itself.
“That’s some outfit, Your Majesty,” Umi-Doo thought to her.
The Mittakan Iskarim floated from between a few generals, who despite the solid gold medals were dissolving the same fats and proteins in their stomachs from the seafood buffet as the servant who’d taken a few shrimp for herself when she thought no one was looking. Incidentally, she was correct, save of course for Ayamari, and that was not a small feat in the room she occupied.
Umi-Doo’s telepathic link carried the compliment and emphasis with a familiar sarcasm. Many years ago, she’d received a great many mana chips from him in exchange for her posing for his figurines, though she noted that she seemed to be the only person Umi-Doo had asked to put clothes on before the sessions. The chips were a convenient catalyst for the initial expansion and production of early Ayama, for which Ayamari was grateful. The chips still flowed, paid out at regular intervals, tasked to appropriate purposes.
“You don’t approve of my attire?” she thought in return.
“Oh, to the contrary,” thought Umi-Doo. “It’s quite the power move.”
Ayamari’s body was comically stronger than any conceivable material she could wear over it, and she grew longer fur over her most sensitive parts to reduce unnecessary stimulus. Clothing was less than pointless–it reduced her effectiveness.
“If you say so.”
“Well,” thought Umi-Doo, “I suppose power moves are hardly necessary for you, anyway.”
Ayamari’s head gave a small wobble.
She was thankful for the Iskarim’s experience. He did not need her to look at him while they conversed, which she found a generally unpleasant activity with most people despite their constant need for validation that demanded it. Ayamari wouldn’t have minded for Umi-Doo. He was actually a rather pleasant conversationalist, but he also thought of himself as quite the gentleman and so spared her regardless.
“Why are you here?” asked Ayamari, while she held a different conversation aloud. ‘Held’ was an excellent word for it, as her participation was akin to keeping a feather on her palm. Effortless. Dull. Celeritia was being his usual kingly self, chatting up every other head of state in the room simultaneously. He was talking to Ayamari as well, but not about anything important. Umi-Doo, however, avoided diplomatic gatherings whenever possible, lacking the temperament and patience for them.
“Ah, we have a presentation,” Umi-Doo replied. Ayamari raised an eyebrow, which Celeritia mistakenly interpreted as genuine interest in his conversation. Four other notable individuals spying on her interpreted her mild facial movement in their own ways, all predicted before her eyebrow ever moved. All reactions served an acceptable end. Although she cared very little, the execution was so simple as to practically occur by reflex. “And it’s pretty fucking complicated, if you’ll excuse my colorful language.”
“Worried the others won’t keep up without you?”
“Something like that,” thought Umi-Doo. “I’m not giving the presentation, though, just helping it along.”
“Celeritia has found another analyst with even greater skill than yourself?”
“Hardly. Though I must admit this one does have a knack for stumbling into and exposing cosmic secrets. Also, he’s the leader of Closetland, so, you know, proper deference to a head of state and all that.”
“Arlo, of Fortune’s Folly,” thought Ayamari, with a rare squint in her eye. Six took note of her this time. She disregarded her social formulae. “I have been meaning to question them.”
“You and everyone else.”
“I doubt our questions resemble one another.”
Umi-Doo narrowed his mental eyes, but didn’t press further.
“How much of Krimsim is still in his domain?” asked Ayamari. Umi-Doo, true to his nature, had all the figures ready at hand.
“Last official intel we received stated that most of the Littan citizens have been repatriated, but some are staying behind due to medical needs the Empire is struggling to provide, along with another contingent seeking political asylum for the same reason we fought Litta ourselves in the first place, though Litta seems much less interested in going to war over them. Ninety-one percent of the city structure is mundane and was left behind. Of the magical material, most of that was reduced to little more than scrap throughout the battle, though a few larger cannons and defensive battlements survived. Litta reclaimed the larger and more functional pieces, few as they were, but left the scrap material as partial restitution for the ‘emergency aid provided by Closetland in the protection of Litta and its citizens from natural disaster.’”
Ayama had certainly never gotten such recognition. Then again, the Empire was likely unaware of most of the things Ayama did for it.
“Quite a spin to put on a fucking kaiju nearly twenty grades higher than the surface record, if you’ll-”
“Use whatever language you like,” Ayamari thought to him, caring little to excuse him or not. Umi-Doo paused briefly, the chuff of his fur belying the casual shrug he offered.
“That’s not all,” he continued. “The so-called ‘Hierophant’ was fleeing something else. Krimsim was merely catching strays from whatever is happening deep in those woods. Choval has been more or less evacuated, and the Imperial Army retreated back into Ginso after suffering heavy casualties. The entire Forest has been officially declared Not Currently Habitable.”
Ayamari knew all of this, but whoever was masterminding the avatars was the most talented subterfugist Ayamari had ever encountered. She was the first to arrive at Canotha, all others waylaid by the strange death zone surrounding it, but by the time she was there, the perpetrator had vanished. The army responsible for the blitz assaults throughout Timagrin disappeared as fast as they arrived, leaving no trace or clue as to their identity. The witness reports were shaky and inconsistent.
There had been rumblings that the army had come from across the sea to the south, implicating the Davahns, but the average Davahn didn’t tear through sternums like they were made of sanded eggshell. The descriptions of the attackers didn’t match any monsters Ayamari knew of–which meant that nobody knew.
Until Fortune’s Folly emerged from Deijin’s Descent.
Even so, there were a hundred minor events across the globe, interconnected with Canotha and yet seemingly pointless for the asserted purposes Folly had ascribed to the Davahn invaders. Unless it was all a smoke screen for something else. Something happening in the Forest, perhaps.
She’d considered visiting to scout for herself. She found the Forest stimulating, if nothing else, but the transition into a mess of Dungeon zones had made flight through the space above the Forest impossible. Fighting and conquering the obstacles of the Dungeons would hamper even her own mobility through the area. It would take time she’d rather not spend.
The obvious conclusion was that the Davahns were involved, avatars were involved, this figure known as Brae’ach, involved, but an unproven theory and a copper note would buy you a cup of watered-down mead at the colosseum.
“Regardless of the ‘official’ reports,” Umi-Doo continued, “I have it on good authority that not only has Closetland fully repaired Krimsim, they’ve repurposed it into a capital city and absorbed the two thousand or so asylum seekers, then granted them citizenship. Folly even convinced Litta to send them more slaves to take in, and have been welcoming displaced populations in veritable droves.”
“Deijin’s Descent must have been profitable for them,” thought Ayamari. “Personal fortunes dry up quickly when building a nation, and low-level Platinum Delves don’t pay enough to support it.”
“Low-level,” Umi-Doo chuckled in disbelief. “Well, you would know.”
“Who is this ‘good authority’ you’ve gotten your information from?”
“Why, King Xor’Drel and I are good fucking friends, didn’t you know?”
“Is that what ‘friendship’ looks like these days?”
Umi-Doo turned to study her for a moment. “You know, I’m not sure if that’s an honest question or just some sarcasm.”
“A bit of both, I think.”
“Hmm. How are things in Ayama?”
“I’ve completed the self-replicating mana buffers along the borders. Another mana eruption in the Wastes will no longer pose any threat. Those Delves within a mile of the surface beneath the jungle have all been mapped. Any attempted sabotage from below will be as dangerous as a mild rain.”
“‘Self-replicating’,” Umi-Doo mused. “I assume another engineered plant?”
“A psychic fungus. They’re easier to use in developing a rudimentary collective intelligence than with a plant.”
“Does this nation-spanning fungus get along with your cold-blooded border patrol?”
“It acts as a competing biological and a supplementary food source,” thought Ayamari. “They were beginning to run into issues with population. This addresses the potential for starvation via two separate vectors–reducing numbers and increasing sustenance.”
“Whatever keeps them from starting to think of your people as a food source.”
“They have a functional cognitive blind spot for Ayaman civilians. They would die of starvation in the midst of a city, never knowing that they were surrounded by consumables.”
“The more you know,” Umi-Doo thought. She could tell he was mildly uncomfortable with her organics. The incoming topic change was expected. “I’m gonna shamelessly ask if there’s anything else you feel like sharing. My entire intelligence apparatus is about sixty percent as effective as you.”
Ayamari did the math. “You’re not giving them enough credit. It’s seventy-three percent, at least.”
“I’ll take the compliment.”
“As for other notable events, there’s an army of undead on the moon.”
Umi-Doo let out another chuckle. He turned to Ayamari, then his expression fell. “You’re fucking serious?”
“Several hundred thousand ranging from Grade 13 to Grade 51.”
“Where in the hells did they come from?!”
Ayamari grinned. “Why, your good fucking friend, didn’t you know?”
Umi-Doo looked like he’d had an aneurysm, although Ayamari noted that his internal vasculature hadn’t suffered any degradation to its integrity. Just then, a soothing, regal voice filled the room. “Ladies and Lords, most esteemed and honored guests, this intermission will end in three minutes. We entreat you to return to the meeting chambers where discussion will resume, beginning with a presentation by Empress Rona Littae.”
The pair continued their discussion as they made their way back inside. Most of the people milling about, wafting in their own importance, made no move to exit. Only the true powers of Arzia were privy to the talks, although that hadn’t stopped an army of hangers-on from crowding the halls of the Imperial venue.
Ayamari had no interest in what the Littan Empress had to say. She could extrapolate the contents of the woman’s upcoming speech. King Xor’Drel, on the other hand, had promised, “untold tales and heart-stopping truths,” with his own presentation, which was slated to take place immediately after.
She had much higher hopes that the leader of Fortune’s Folly would have something interesting to say.
Comments
Cornman
From god wrangler to godking wrangler iykyk
McIntosh Ewell
Hmmm, close enough to a god for Arlo's purposes 😏
Charles handgis
Would love a intermission of her after she sees arlo. Maybe she would be interested in his unique biology.
Maxx
Damn what an interesting view point. At the point of long lived power, where nothing seems interesting.
Brandon Yarberry
Awww, such a tease.
