turtwigwins
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Fantasy Terrorchild: Awakening
- Thread starter Thread starter K0mori
- Start date Start date
demytra
the writer
2
hardcore.munchkin
Professional hater
2
bat_hacker
Junior Member
2
LoriMahe
Ohoho!
3
Damian0358
Roleplaying Procrastinator From Elsewhere
2
Like Clockwork
New
K0mori
Servant Supreme
Option 2: 7 Votes (70% - Range: 1-70)
Option 3: 3 Votes (30% - Range: 71-100)
Fae Roll: 20
"...Agranne," Syrith says slowly, her hand resting on the pommel of Sharyx' sword as a thin wisp of shadow rises through her fingers. Her words drip with tempered fury. "...Sharyx may have never learned telepathy, but that doesn't mean that I can't use it. I must have some of the divinity, or else I can't bring your sister back; you don't know how the ritual works, and there's no more time to teach you. ...And if you're so certain that you want to become a goddess, then think - for once in your damned life - about the consequences."
You match her glare. "It can't be worse than what will happen if I die a demigod."
Syrith's expression remains deathly serious, and for the very first time, you sense that she's done playing games with the truth, and is actually warning you for your sake, rather than her own. "...If it came to that, then at least there would be a way out," she replies, before turning and surveying the chamber. "Look around you at this place, this decrepit place. Look at the engravings on the walls, etched there by steady hands, six thousand, two hundred and thirty-one years ago. My hands... I was so proud."
You look out over the room, unable to see the past glory that lives only the Eldest's eye. "...So you were mortal?" you ask, to a quiet rush of gasps.
"Yes," Syrith answers. "I was a witch - just another plaything of the gods - watching them in their infantile, reckless explorations of divinity. They were careless then, and the power of creation was far less scarce - it was only a matter of time before we mortals found a way to harness it ourselves. It was my ambition; I worked ceaselessly to attain it, and I had fully expected my circle to follow me into godhood - to join me in the Pantheon at the highest plane of existence!" a flash of mania traces through the goddess' eyes, which she quickly subdues.
You remember your own brush with mania in Thandan, when you saw yourself depicted in the tapestry and latched onto the idea of attaining godhood. You nearly killed Embryx, and only on reflection of that terrible impulse did you commit to seeking help and a less destructive path. As a result, you understand what sort of unchecked desires had burned in Syrith's heart, all those years ago.
"...The Pantheon never accepted me," she continues, bleakly. "They were reviled by me, and saw me as nothing but an interloper! They engineered the untimely demise of each of my sisters, one by one, before I even understood their machinations. I could see it coming and meddle with destiny, but I was outfoxed at every turn and eventually... I was alone."
You nearly snap at her, sensing that she's trying to seek your sympathy, but she stares into your eyes with a burning, fearsome intensity that causes your words to catch in your throat. No, this isn't about sympathy - this is about all that you hold dear.
"...They fell as demigods, always allowed a tantalizing taste of the divine before being snuffed out, nothing more than mules to carry the dwindling supply of godly power back to the vultures who created this world - and who sup on its misplaced adoration. I had to hide myself away, communicate in shadows and silence evermore, because all who have ever seen my true face have been struck down by the Pantheon in a way which erases them from existence - and you, Agranne, are blundering into the same outcome."
As she speaks, a reddish glow begins to fill the fissure in the ceiling of the cave, and your heart begins to race. This is the moment you've been seeking since your awakening, two years ago, and yet you still feel unready. "I can't trust you," you grunt through clenched teeth, shaking your head. No matter what she says, you can't allow her to have any part of her divinity until after your sister is safe and your soul is saved from obliteration! "I've made my choice, Syrith... Rigatte, my soul, and then, maybe, I will return a portion of your power. But neither of us will get what we came for unless we cooperate, right now!"
"Your soul, then," Syrith insists.
"Yeah, yeah... You need divinity for the ritual," you grumble.
Syrith takes a deep breath, closing her eyes as a swirl of dark magic rises from her sword. Perhaps she's reading your mind to judge your intentions, or perhaps she's glimpsing the future once more. "...Fine. Do what you will, Agranne - there are no more outcomes in my favor in which I don't consent. But remember: the Pantheon will soon be upon us to reap what they've sewed in you, and if you should rebuke them, it won't matter how many of my sisters you kill, how long you carry on being an emissary of death, even if you exceed your natural lifespan as Kulka did - they will take all that you love and erase it from creation as spite for your defiance, just as they did to me."
The gallery is stunned by her confessions as they remained transfixed on the exchange. She lifts her hand from the pommel and extends it to you, inviting you to take it and lead her out and over the abyssal gateway that will soon connect to her afterlife.
"Agranne!" Corrinth calls out to you at the last moment. "What about the vessel!?"
Your eyes widen. You had been so preoccupied with Syrith's threats and pleas that you had nearly forgotten that requirement. "Oh, shit," you mutter as you look back on the gathered witches, who now look upon each other in a horrified panic as they realize that one is about to die and have their body stolen.
"Oh, yes. You want to spare the fae's life, now. Fine... You - voidsinger," Syrith addresses as she turns to Seith. "Take the Elder and go. I'll have use for you both, later."
Seith clears his throat and steps off the wall he was leaning against. "As you wish, Dark One," he replies, unbothered to the point of apparent sarcasm. He drops one heavy hand on Venza's shoulder while gripping Kulka's cane in his other.
"Wha!?" is all Venza can say before she and the voidsinger disappear in a puff of smoke. You suspect they reappeared on the surface of the island, directly above you. The rest of the witches draw their wands and other implements as your allies do the same, as all of them appear ready for a desperate fight for survival - none more so than Embryx.
1. Let Embryx Take Charge - Your lover is about as dangerous as you've ever seen her, and right now, Syrith is beckoning you to begin the ritual. You take the Eldest's hand as Embryx leads a brutal attack unlike anything you've witnessed from her before.
2. Join the Attack - You're not going to let Embryx go in outnumbered without your help. You ignore Syrith's wishes again and leap into the fight, even as the eerie glow from the roof of the cavern intensifies. You won't have much time...
3. Make Syrith Join You - You suddenly get a fae-touched idea: you grab the Eldest by her wrist and throw her towards the brewing battle, just to see how she fights, now that you have an understanding.
Option 3: 3 Votes (30% - Range: 71-100)
Fae Roll: 20
"...Agranne," Syrith says slowly, her hand resting on the pommel of Sharyx' sword as a thin wisp of shadow rises through her fingers. Her words drip with tempered fury. "...Sharyx may have never learned telepathy, but that doesn't mean that I can't use it. I must have some of the divinity, or else I can't bring your sister back; you don't know how the ritual works, and there's no more time to teach you. ...And if you're so certain that you want to become a goddess, then think - for once in your damned life - about the consequences."
You match her glare. "It can't be worse than what will happen if I die a demigod."
Syrith's expression remains deathly serious, and for the very first time, you sense that she's done playing games with the truth, and is actually warning you for your sake, rather than her own. "...If it came to that, then at least there would be a way out," she replies, before turning and surveying the chamber. "Look around you at this place, this decrepit place. Look at the engravings on the walls, etched there by steady hands, six thousand, two hundred and thirty-one years ago. My hands... I was so proud."
You look out over the room, unable to see the past glory that lives only the Eldest's eye. "...So you were mortal?" you ask, to a quiet rush of gasps.
"Yes," Syrith answers. "I was a witch - just another plaything of the gods - watching them in their infantile, reckless explorations of divinity. They were careless then, and the power of creation was far less scarce - it was only a matter of time before we mortals found a way to harness it ourselves. It was my ambition; I worked ceaselessly to attain it, and I had fully expected my circle to follow me into godhood - to join me in the Pantheon at the highest plane of existence!" a flash of mania traces through the goddess' eyes, which she quickly subdues.
You remember your own brush with mania in Thandan, when you saw yourself depicted in the tapestry and latched onto the idea of attaining godhood. You nearly killed Embryx, and only on reflection of that terrible impulse did you commit to seeking help and a less destructive path. As a result, you understand what sort of unchecked desires had burned in Syrith's heart, all those years ago.
"...The Pantheon never accepted me," she continues, bleakly. "They were reviled by me, and saw me as nothing but an interloper! They engineered the untimely demise of each of my sisters, one by one, before I even understood their machinations. I could see it coming and meddle with destiny, but I was outfoxed at every turn and eventually... I was alone."
You nearly snap at her, sensing that she's trying to seek your sympathy, but she stares into your eyes with a burning, fearsome intensity that causes your words to catch in your throat. No, this isn't about sympathy - this is about all that you hold dear.
"...They fell as demigods, always allowed a tantalizing taste of the divine before being snuffed out, nothing more than mules to carry the dwindling supply of godly power back to the vultures who created this world - and who sup on its misplaced adoration. I had to hide myself away, communicate in shadows and silence evermore, because all who have ever seen my true face have been struck down by the Pantheon in a way which erases them from existence - and you, Agranne, are blundering into the same outcome."
As she speaks, a reddish glow begins to fill the fissure in the ceiling of the cave, and your heart begins to race. This is the moment you've been seeking since your awakening, two years ago, and yet you still feel unready. "I can't trust you," you grunt through clenched teeth, shaking your head. No matter what she says, you can't allow her to have any part of her divinity until after your sister is safe and your soul is saved from obliteration! "I've made my choice, Syrith... Rigatte, my soul, and then, maybe, I will return a portion of your power. But neither of us will get what we came for unless we cooperate, right now!"
"Your soul, then," Syrith insists.
"Yeah, yeah... You need divinity for the ritual," you grumble.
Syrith takes a deep breath, closing her eyes as a swirl of dark magic rises from her sword. Perhaps she's reading your mind to judge your intentions, or perhaps she's glimpsing the future once more. "...Fine. Do what you will, Agranne - there are no more outcomes in my favor in which I don't consent. But remember: the Pantheon will soon be upon us to reap what they've sewed in you, and if you should rebuke them, it won't matter how many of my sisters you kill, how long you carry on being an emissary of death, even if you exceed your natural lifespan as Kulka did - they will take all that you love and erase it from creation as spite for your defiance, just as they did to me."
The gallery is stunned by her confessions as they remained transfixed on the exchange. She lifts her hand from the pommel and extends it to you, inviting you to take it and lead her out and over the abyssal gateway that will soon connect to her afterlife.
"Agranne!" Corrinth calls out to you at the last moment. "What about the vessel!?"
Your eyes widen. You had been so preoccupied with Syrith's threats and pleas that you had nearly forgotten that requirement. "Oh, shit," you mutter as you look back on the gathered witches, who now look upon each other in a horrified panic as they realize that one is about to die and have their body stolen.
"Oh, yes. You want to spare the fae's life, now. Fine... You - voidsinger," Syrith addresses as she turns to Seith. "Take the Elder and go. I'll have use for you both, later."
Seith clears his throat and steps off the wall he was leaning against. "As you wish, Dark One," he replies, unbothered to the point of apparent sarcasm. He drops one heavy hand on Venza's shoulder while gripping Kulka's cane in his other.
"Wha!?" is all Venza can say before she and the voidsinger disappear in a puff of smoke. You suspect they reappeared on the surface of the island, directly above you. The rest of the witches draw their wands and other implements as your allies do the same, as all of them appear ready for a desperate fight for survival - none more so than Embryx.
1. Let Embryx Take Charge - Your lover is about as dangerous as you've ever seen her, and right now, Syrith is beckoning you to begin the ritual. You take the Eldest's hand as Embryx leads a brutal attack unlike anything you've witnessed from her before.
2. Join the Attack - You're not going to let Embryx go in outnumbered without your help. You ignore Syrith's wishes again and leap into the fight, even as the eerie glow from the roof of the cavern intensifies. You won't have much time...
3. Make Syrith Join You - You suddenly get a fae-touched idea: you grab the Eldest by her wrist and throw her towards the brewing battle, just to see how she fights, now that you have an understanding.
Last edited:
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hardcore.munchkin
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