Ishme Anu Ilu
Before form, he is conscious. He exists, first, in a starless void where there is no sound. Out of place, out of time. Too much boredom. He feels a restlessness stir in him and he knows that this idea will one day be his body. He thinks he had a name, once. In the dark, he catches glimpses of a world that is always new, save the man inside it: always the same. In a workshop. In a garden. Standing on the seashore. The first word he learns is not baba or mama, but Father, forever capitalised, forever larger-than-life.He closes his eyes.Time enfolds him - heat and song - and at last, as his body takes shape, he knows what being present means. His name is Ishme-anu Ilu and he is a slave. He is not taught this, but it is known in his bones and he is satisfied. He spends more time in Father’s garden than his workshop, tending to his tulips because it pleases Father. He would say, often, that Ishme is one of his tulips, too.He closes his eyes.He watches the world begin to unravel around him. Suddenly, there is no time for tulips. He is hunting, always hunting– always catching and carving– always dragging and beating and breaking. He misses Father, but he speaks only commands these days and his eyes are dark and tunneled. His bones do not sing the way they used to and Ishme learns what will one day be sadness. He sees the Flood.He closes his eyes.He does not sleep, but he dreams– dreams of the world slipping away– of moss and vines and the green rot of decay crawling over everything, into everything, tearing it apart and eating it alive. Cities recede back into the forest and he is, at last, alone. Not another sound, just the endless, yawning void leaping up to meet him, covering it all in an endless blanket of white noise. For once, there is no more panting and sweating, no more pleading and groaning and sobbing. And no more fire. For once, there is silence. A deep, perfect silence. And in that silence, a tulip grows.It opens his eyes.
| Species | Amdapori golem |
| Gender | Male-presenting; he/it |
| Orientation | Curious |
| Home | Esshuranaripal |
| Age | 1500~ (mostly stasis) |
| Lifestyle | Vagrant |
Personality
Deadpan with a subtle dash of jaunty and playful; occasionally gives vibes more like a creepy, possessed doll than a golem; curious, always curious, always needing to know more; the fuzzy border between magic and miracle; too clever, too cunning; the critical thinking skills of a Portia spider; it comes with a sword and an encyclopaedic knowledge of pressure points, and so its previous functions are fairly obvious; exhibits unusual ‘short circuiting’ or ‘crossed wire’ behaviours; says strange things sometimes inside thousand-yard stares; occasionally catatonic; so many functions it’s like a golem Swiss army knife; changes its clothes and ‘dresses up’ often; it’s not always very good at it, just figuring things out; more like the monkey-Shakespeare-typewriter thing, sometimes it just happens to be good; confuses people constantly on whether it’s actually feeling something, or just imitating; genuinely seems to have loved his creator; and his creator genuinely seems to have been a terrible person; ‘likes’ gardening; ‘likes’ serving; ‘likes’ you— hold up, is it flirting?
Abilities
Paralytic tail-sting; hypnotic vibrations; uncanny perception; cute; ability to use a portfolio of sensations such as a person’s perspiration, heart-rate, and body language to semi-accurately determine their emotional state; can suppress pain response; general martial skills; ‘imitation’; bad humour.
Story Hooks
& Dynamics
Hello, World
You are an aspiring golemancer, a scholar of the War of the Magi, or a simple collector of Amdapori antiquities. One day, a large, rectangular crate arrives in your workshop or study sent by one of your colleagues from a recent dig in the Twelveswood. Inside is a statue. You decide to figure out what to do with it later, but there’s another trinket in your home that’s already ‘talking’ to it, emitting just the right frequency. Later that evening, either you find the ‘statue’ moving around… or it finds you.
Model of a Modern Majordomo
The perfect servant, that’s what the finely-dressed sutler had promised you. A mammet to shame all mammets… except it’s not a mammet at all, but an Amdapori golem, exquisitely-crafted and, as promised, seemingly perfect to fit this task. Everything isn't as it seems, though...
The Many Mad Moods
He's an Amdapori golem, which means he's about 1500 years past his warranty. The magics that sustain and organise his behaviours have started to unravel. You end up on the receiving end of a rather (open-ended, brainstorming required) short-circuit.
Two Ships, Passed Twice
You have met Ishme before, any number of years ago while travelling through the Twelveswood. A brief, tumultuous moment — maybe you watched it kill someone, maybe by happenstance its actions saved you from some awful fate — but after the moment had passed, Ishme was gone as quickly as it had arrived, like a phantom of the woods. Now, once again, you find yourself face-to-face with it.
Digging Too Deep
You join an archaeological expedition into a recently-discovered Amdapori colony (or go it alone). At some point, however, you get separated from the rest of the group, or drawn away, guided by a song into a stretch of the old world the rest had overlooked. As the network of tunnels turn labyrinthine, something hounds you. After all, what would a labyrinth be without its minotaur?
Little Mockingbird, Little Murderer
You know what he is, and you intend to put him to proper work.
Headcanon &
Cultural Touchstones
This is a work of headcanon. At the moment, I've only added the abridged version as I enjoy keeping a lot of it still mysterious and unknown for players to figure out more and more about a civilisation; I just wanted to give enough to give a vibe. Also, linguistically I use Sumerian sounds a lot (sometimes actual words) purely because I think it's fun.
Content Warning (Maybe). This headcanon will most likely be far darker than what the lore implies, and probably moreso than most people tend to go. I approached it from the question of ‘what would absolute power look like in the hands of white magic?’ and got something that probably borrows or at least looks like some of the Ayleid states in the TES universe. Slavery, excess, artistic cruelty, et cetera.
Adjustments On Timeframe. I have chosen to interpret the rise of black and white magic on a much longer scale than what is probably implied in lore. I’m not sure if specifics are ever given, but it seems that this was a very rapid development, however this lore document will be under the assumption that the sorcerer-caste of Amdapor was long entrenched by the time the Flood hit. This is non-factual and for no reason other than my own headcanoning pleasure.
Lords of Light. “Geš-ušeš Ensi me-lu, Nin-utu-ne-ne. It refers to the Seventy-Nine Radiant Lords of Life and Light who, in one way or another, made up the body of great sorcerers that ruled ancient Amdapor. There was one for each citadel-sovereign who presided over one of the city’s forty-three cantons. There were fifteen Judges-in-Shek and twelve War-Tyrants of Kritesh. The Oraculum of Painted Mirrors was numbered in four and the Council of Gate-Absolutes in five.”
'Benevolent' Overlords. Or so they would have you believe. The Seventy-Two ruled over their people in ways that modern Eorzeans would have found oppressive, if the writing hadn't been wholesale described in their favour. This wasn't exclusive to domestic affairs, either, with their 'diplomacy' and 'peacekeeping' efforts with the other city-states often ending up looking more like bullying where talks always seemed to favour them and twist the arm of others, with all the energy of a paternal, patronising older brother having to keep their rowdy siblings in line.
Indentured Servitude. ‘Amdapor did not practice slavery,’ it is said, but the near-total lack of rights and prolific use of their indentured servitude as a means of paying back debt, as punishment for one’s crimes, or as prisoners of war would have looked scarcely different.
Decadence. "There’s an ego to being an artisan – a vanity that comes natural to creation – and if you’re going to create something, why not make it beautiful? Why should it not satisfy your every, eager impulse? The ancient Amdapiit marched beneath ideals of these stripes, straight into seven dynastic golden ages, each one filled with more decadence, bacchanals, and rot than the last."
Flesh-Art. Fleshsculpting had become nouveau in Amdapor’s twilight years, including both a.) the shaping of one’s own, either for beauty, purpose, or terror, or b.) in the form of ‘flesh-sculptures’ which utilised ‘servants’ and turned torture and anguish into a form of art.
The Tiered Garden;
or the Many Mad Moods
of the Machine
As a writer who enjoys dark themes, some of Ishme’s nature isn’t for everyone and that’s okay! There’s a general progression for his motivations and themes — he’s like a tiered garden where you can have your character get off and linger on whichever level you like most; or have them push further, go deeper, and eventually (probably) regret those decisions!
He Wants to Serve You. The initial, the default; if you ask ishme, this is the top of the mountain; there is nothing more noble than service; no happiness more fulfilling than to be of use; he is watchful, always watchful, always listening, never blinking; your heart rate, your breathing and perspiration and the chorus of your body; he prides himself on knowing what his masters want before even they do; a cup of tea, braiding your hair, a piece of cake, applying your make-up, a stolen secret, delivering a letter, looking decorative, delivering pain, fetching supplies, stealing a life
He Wants to Amuse You. With charm and wit; theatre and comedy; with singing and dancing; with saz and zurna and qanun; with flirting, fluttering eyes, and with play
He Wants to Know You. Everything; talk to him; let him collect your passions and secrets; let him hoard all the pieces of you like little treasures; he will listen
He Wants to Fool You. This one is always happening, really; from the beginning; a constant background hum; he is just a simple golem, don’t you see?; no need to look too closely; white noise with teeth; maybe you want to be fooled, anyways; it doesn’t have to hurt, if you know how to leave well enough alone; to be told a fairy tale where the clay prince falls in love; with the silly girl or the toad or the world
He Wants to Cage You. It’s not literal; not always, at least; he’s laid all his tricks around your feet; until it’s a network of traps; a spider’s web; by which he may keep you; twist you; turn you and tug you along; tell you where to step and how; and you will swear he is leading you from hell; not into it
He Wants to Hurt You. The reality; if you watch and listen to ishme, this is the real top of the mountain; where everything finally makes sense; where the comedy turns into a horror story; and the house pet turns into a predator; where there is no more hiding; no more secrets or illusions; or way out; where he feels at last closest to his creator; and you - be still, let him listen to the real you
He Wants to Love / Destroy / Be You. ...
Notes & Miscellany
Crafted in the likeness of Amdapori statues, specifically from a tradition of sculptures depicting young, Amdapori males in a beautiful, idealised fashion. Any likeness towards raen is purely coincidental and upon closer inspection the pearlescent scales, horns, and barbed tail seem to be from a distinct (and decidedly unusual) style altogether.
For devices or individuals that are sensitive to a broader range of auditory frequencies, Ishme is constantly producing internal soundwaves that are either music-like or at the very least possessed of an intentionally-rhythmic quality otherwise indetectable to normal ears.
In Ishme's presence, it's common to feel ambiguously disquieted: something troublesome right at the tip of the tongue, yet ever-elusive, easily dismissed.
things i'm about
brainstorming & gushing about character stuff together
horror, ritual, horrific rituals, nasty no good characters that you can't help but get swept up into
headcanon and worldbuilding
maturity, kindness, and enthusiasm
being 23+ irl preferred; i don't care what your character's age is, but it might understandably limit the ways emily interacts with you depending on that age
please, no
ooc capitalists/libertarians, fascists (this includes being pro-Israel or pro any current government really), misogynists
ooc/ic transphobes (there's just no ic basis for this, so one probably implies the other)
acting like solution 9 and other sci-fi or modern tech is commonplace and normal; it ruins this character's vibe
kinda goes for glams, too
leaning too much into the msq (i find it boring for rp)
miscellany
i have a few alts, and so although not necessary, i like adding people to discord if we vibe; it's just easier to get in contact with me!
sometimes i will eschew words like 'try' and 'attempt' because i think it's linguistically clunky; if i do this, i'm not seizing narrative authority from you, just explain what actually happens in your next post and i'll roll with it
be nice to me, it's the law
