bat_hacker
Junior Member
2
-
This section is for roleplays only.
ALL interest checks/recruiting threads must go in the Recruit Here section.
Please remember to credit artists when using works not your own.
Fantasy Terrorchild: Awakening
- Thread starter K0mori
- Start date
Damian0358
Roleplaying Procrastinator From Elsewhere
2
Bathe
New
K0mori
Servant Supreme
You drag yourself out of bed and shuffle toward the bathroom, rubbing the crust out of your eyes as you investigate the accommodations. To your surprise, the bath isn't just a basin, but also includes a pump which draws from some unseen vestibule. The handle of the pump feels ice cold, but the spout is surprisingly warm to the touch. You pump a few times until water begins to flow into the round basin, pausing only to gawk at the steam which rises from the puddle as it drains. You quickly grab the plug and close up the opening, feeling the astonishingly hot water on your fingers. This must be how royalty treat themselves.
You continue pumping water in until the basin is more than halfway full, and then undress. For the moment, you've given yourself the luxury of a distraction which prevents you from agonizing over your actions, and it only deepens once you step into the cradling warmth of the water and sink down up to your neck. You sit there a while, simply breathing the warm air and gently massaging the grime off of yourself - especially the dried blood from where you were stabbed, and where the shaft of Embryx's scythe knocked you out. All of your wounds still feel tender; the elixir you drank never healed you completely, but you're fine with the pain.
There's something grounding about all of it. Instead of erasing your troubles, this bit of self-care merely soothes you, and reminds you that you're not torn between everything you want and nothing at all. You remember that Fiola and Wag intend to meet you and say farewell today, and that they probably know nothing about your recent lapse into mania. Maybe Embryx hasn't departed yet; if you were brought here during the night, it probably wasn't Stalna who carried your limp body along. ...And if Embryx went through this much trouble, and then left you with the Pandemonium Door, then maybe she still trusts you.
Wait, of course she would! ...Wouldn't she? You realize that you hadn't actually attacked her before she decided to thump you on the head. Maybe she expected you to compel or manipulate her, and simply panicked! As hope rekindles in your heart, you're caught off guard by a sudden rush of emotions that you had held in check until this moment. It had been easier to assume that the door was closed, and that you wouldn't have to worry about facing her again - especially not soon. But if you leave your room and find her waiting downstairs, what will you even say for yourself? Will you tell her the truth, or will you simply bury it and move on?
When you've calmed yourself again, you take up some soap from a nearby tray and begin cleaning yourself more thoroughly. You work it into a lather and then rinsing it out of your fur, one limb at a time, all the while ruminating on the consequences of either choice. If you tell her, you can easily imagine her forgiving you, given how, first in friendship, and then in love, she's been absurdly devoted to keeping you close. But you also know that knowledge like this can't be forgotten - you'll always know what you would have done, no matter how much you wish you could forget. By now, her adoration of you must have already been tested to its limit; one more shock like this might be all it takes to relegate your futures to separate horizons, even if you can remain allies.
On the other hand, if you fail to speak up, what if you're forced to reveal the truth at a later time - like when Corrinth was compelled by Diala to reveal her aborted plot against your father? Kulka is traveling with you as well, and she's a telepath... What if Embryx continues her lessons, and she discovers your guilt by reading your mind? Your would-be betrayal may have been the result of an addled mind, but your silence on the matter would be an actual one, and Embryx being angry and even leaving you would by wholly justified.
Just then, you hear the latch on the bedroom door open, and you sink down low so that you're peeking over the edge of the basin. In steps Embryx, who freezes a moment as she realizes you aren't in bed. "Oh, you're awake," she says, avoiding looking at you directly. Her half-hearted tone doesn't tell you enough, but you already know she isn't happy with you. "...I brought you a few things that we gathered up this morning for the road ahead. The rest of the pact is downstairs eating breakfast."
"...Thanks," you reply, unable to say more as you haven't decided on whether omission or honesty is a better choice. Just before she turns to leave, you realize what you need to say. "Hey, Embryx?"
"Yeah?"
1. I Wish We Had Gone Drinking - "You were right, last night - about everything. I didn't listen when I should've, and, well... It shouldn't have ever gotten to that point. I wish we would have just found a good place to have a few drinks and get some sleep. I know that doesn't really change anything about what I said and did, but I want you to know that I'm sorry, and I never want to reach that point again."
2. The Hardest Truth - "You did the right thing, knocking me out like that. ...The truth is, I was going to kill you." You rest your head against the side of the tub and close your eyes, your head still throbbing. "I don't know if you're doing all this kindness because you love me, or because you're afraid of what I might do, or if you simply didn't know. But I promise you, you can walk away if that's what you really want."
Infab
The Demon Fanatic
2
turtwigwins
Junior Member
2
hardcore.munchkin
Professional hater
2
Damian0358
Roleplaying Procrastinator From Elsewhere
2
joshuadim
the writer
2
The Hardest Truth
New
K0mori
Servant Supreme
"I know," she answers, coldly. You wait for her to elaborate, but instead she just leaves the room, forcefully shutting the door on her way. You remain still, almost in disbelief at her response. You wonder if you should've said more, or something different. Had you seemed unapologetic? Indifferent to her companionship? You stay there for a while, hopelessly wishing that she'd come back in the room and say more, even if she were to curse you out or scream at you.
Finally, with your bath turning lukewarm, you pull the stopper and allow the water to drain. You stand and wrap yourself in a towel, emerging into the bedroom to find the assorted items Embryx brought you laid out on the edge of the bed. There's what appears to be a sleeveless shirt, but when you move to lift it, it's surprisingly heavy. You realize that it's a layered garment with fragments of plate metal sewn in-between. You figure that if you had been wearing something like this when you were shot with an arrow in Tashlaan, or yesterday, when you were stabbed in the back by Prince Leothan, you might have escaped the life-threatening injuries you sustained each time.
There's also an unlabeled bottle of potion. You wonder if it's more like the one you were given during the first incident that merely numbed your pain without healing the wound, or the lifesaving elixir you were given by the royals. Either way, you get yourself dressed at a careful pace, making sure that the residual dizziness from Embryx's attack isn't something that should keep you in bed for another day. If you had time, you would wash all of your clothing in the wash basin before departing this place, but you know that this isn't a good moment. With the heavy garment on beneath your coat, you feel much warmer, and forgo the heavy cloak you pilfered earlier in your travels as you head for the door.
Outside, you pass through a narrow hall before reaching stairs, and you gingerly descend to the bottom floor, keeping a tight grip on the railing. Your pact sisters are all present, as well as Kulka, and a few others from her own pact that you don't recognize. The moment one of them notices you, they stop talking and all look at the same time - all aside from Embryx. Her back is turned to you. You wait, and she doesn't turn around for an agonizingly long time until, finally, she glances over her shoulder and gives a quick tilt of her head to beckon you over.
"Sister," Fiola says as you approach, giving a gentle smile.
Wag grins. "Good to zee you, zizter."
"Hey," you say to them, returning their smile. "Hope I didn't keep you waiting too long," you say.
Fiola shakes her head. "We're not in any hurry... Hells, I'm not even going anywhere. Are you alright?"
"I think so," you reply with a nod, although you're so nervous about Embryx that you can't sit comfortably. At that moment, however, the drow reaches over and plants a tankard of ale in front of you, giving a sly smile.
She then takes her own and takes several gulps, and it occurs to you that the first time you saw her, upstairs, she might have already been buzzed. It being so early in the day, you wonder whether she's trying to numb herself, or if she's trying to work up some courage to talk about what happened. Either way, it could help to explain why she was so unusually terse. Then, she finally explains what she meant by her comment. "...I figured out how to read minds," she says. "It's not that hard when you know what you're looking for. I knew you were going to kill me; that's why I swung on you."
The pact sisters avoid looking you in the eyes as you feel shame crash down on your shoulders. They must have known about what happened last night, and now they, like you, are getting the rest of the story. "...Then why did you stick around?" you ask.
"Why do you think?" she asks, a bit more pointedly, her smile disappearing. "You didn't want to do it. You just couldn't help yourself last night, but what I want to know - and I'm not gonna read your mind this time; I just want the honest truth - is whether you still think you're more than a mortal like the rest of us."
Your first instinct is to say, no! I was manic and dumb, and I said a whole lot of bullshit! But that wouldn't be fully honest, neither with her nor yourself. Something strange really is happening, you really do feel stronger now than you've ever been, and the eerie red glow of the Pandemonium Door, combined with your steadily-increasing knowledge of your divinely-charted destiny, truly makes it difficult to believe you're just a normal witch with a powerful artifact. "...Yeah," you reply grimly. "I'm not... normal. Not even for a hexblood. I don't know what that means - not yet."
"You seemed to like the idea of divinity," she replies, tartly. "I thought you and I were going to live somewhere quiet when we were done. Are we not?"
You shrug, helplessly. "I don't know what's going to happen anymore," you say, taking a sip of your ale. "Would you leave me if I had some higher calling?"
To your surprise, she answers very thoughtfully: "Only if that calling doesn't involve me."
"Divinity?" Wag repeats, cutting in. "I heard your magic got the bezt of you lazt night. Do you actually think you're zome zort of demigod? Or even a full-on god?"
Annoyed, Embryx turns to her and replies on your behalf: "I just asked her that!"
"Oh, I guezz zo..." the goblin says, a bit drunk as well, you now realize. "Well, in that caze, Agranne: what would you be the god of?"
You get annoyed as well. "Are we really going to do this?"
With a somewhat malicious grin, Embryx comes to her support. "Answer the question," she says.
You sigh. If an answer will entertain Embryx, you might as well give one.
1. Vengeance - It all goes back to vengeance. Everything in your life to this point has been shaped by the notion of destroying the people and institutions that wronged you. You've found that, throughout the land, there are hundreds of witches who have suffered similarly, and thousands more non-witches who have their own hatreds that they carry which won't be quenched until they get their pound of flesh. You realize that if you're anyone's patron, you're theirs.
2. Witchcraft - Looking back on your life, you feel a heavy resentment not just for the failures of kings and clergy to care for you and your family, but also for Syrith and Lythrefang for building such an unstable, cutthroat "family" for you to fall into. You've killed nearly as many of your brothers and sisters as you have the coven's enemies, and you're getting very tired of it. The broader world of witchcraft deserves a patron deity that isn't constantly at war with the rest of the pantheon, you figure. If she won't sit at that table, then I will...
3. The Dead - Although you possess a powerful aptitude for telekinesis, your greatest fascination lies with the construction of life and death, and your proudest achievement thus far is your recent adventure into the world beyond death to speak with your sister on your own terms. If given the chance, you'll master these abilities and become a being which can't be barred from the afterlife... One who can seek the fate of the lost - or even alter it.
Last edited:
Infab
The Demon Fanatic
2
hardcore.munchkin
Professional hater
3
joshuadim
the writer
3
Breadman
Big loaf supreme
1
Damian0358
Roleplaying Procrastinator From Elsewhere
3
bat_hacker
Junior Member
3
turtwigwins
Junior Member
2
Vengeance
New
K0mori
Servant Supreme
Option 1: 1 Vote (14% - Range: 1-14)
Option 2: 2 Votes (29% - Range: 15-43)
Option 3: 4 Votes (57% - Range: 44-100)
Fae Roll: 8
And yet, as you open your mouth to speak, an uneasiness settles over you. As quickly as the thought may have asserted itself in your mind, you feel uncertain about its validity. It was Nytha, two years ago, who identified your preoccupation with enacting twisted punishments on your enemies, but haven't you grown a lot since then? Haven't you experienced love, friendship, and belonging, and preferred them to the dirty business of wringing blood and souls out of bodies - even in the short and tantalizing bursts you've received them?
On some days, your worst tendencies are brought out by the dark magic in your veins, and your careless abandon for applying it. It can be difficult to remember that, even in the midst of prophesy that suggests otherwise, you are in fact still a mortal for the moment, and just yesterday almost died, even. But you just woke up; you've done nothing with your magic as of yet today, and there isn't some dark thread pulling at your heart's desires. This is something else...
And then, as you sit there, still unable to answer, it hits you: your fae-touched mind is again denying you a tempered response, demanding chaos instead. You want to say something about your fascination with the constructs of life and death, and how you would aspire to be the patron of souls already beyond the veil, like your sister and Ika. After all the frustration you've caused Embryx lately, wouldn't it be right to show her that you want to make something better of yourself?
You suddenly and inadvertently laugh - yipping like a fox and catching yourself completely off-guard. You cover your mouth as if to contain it, but you can't. The mirth of your laughter doesn't match the fear in your eyes, and Embryx can see it. Her amusement with your discomfort over the question turns to concern, and Wag quickly follows.
Embryx tries to assure you, planting her hand on your shoulder. "Hey, hey..." she coos. "You don't have to tell us if you don't want to-"
"I'll be..." you strain, trying not to fixate on the idea, but the more you try not to think about it, the more your mind floods with imagery of Diala's crushed skull, Veralt and the royal mages' rotting guts spilling from their bodies, the limbs ripping free of Count Caspan's trunk, and innumerable wicked little indulgences that make you feel warm and fuzzy inside, even as they disgust you. "...I'll be the patron god of the vengeful," you reluctantly speak before burying your face in your hands and crying. And yet, even as tears trickle from your eyes, you can barely stifle the laughter.
What are you laughing at? Is it your helplessness? Your madness feasts on the discord between your id and ego.
"Are you okay?" Wag asks, breaking an uncomfortable silence. You shake your head without looking at her, but then Embryx grabs your wrist and pulls your hand down forcefully.
You stare at her fearfully - not just for yourself, but for the menace in her eyes, a look typically reserved for her enemies, like Corrinth. "I don't believe it," she says, fiercely. You nod, accepting her judgement of your answer without arguing. She keeps staring for a while longer, before letting out a few unpleasant chuckles of her own. "...We'll have to see if there's a way to undo some of the damage from the faerie wine we drank. You're not thinking straight."
You breathe a sigh of relief that Embryx seems to know exactly what's happening to you. Maybe when she glimpsed your thoughts and realized how much you loathed your lack of control, she gained the insight to understand that the best way to support you is to guide you back to yourself. You look across the room, to Kulka, and call out to her. "Hey, uh, elder sister? Do you know of any way to help someone who's been fae-touched like me?"
Utterly deadpan, she replies: "money's always good."
Your entire table aside from Fiola breaks into unnerving laughter as Kulka hops off her chair and ambles over to you. "I've heard of methods to reverse the damage, yes, but I've never seen them employed," the elder explains. "And also, if you want to cure yourself, you'll need to head east, to southern Pfeiland. You're headed west, no? You don't have the time."
"What's east?" you emphatically reply, nonetheless. "...I'll come back this way if I have to, after the comet has passed."
Kulka taps her cane a few times as she prepares to summarize a long story of a rumor she once heard. "There are creatures," she begins, "which feast on chaos, and so they sow it wherever they go. The fae you know are divided amongst themselves between the pleasure-seekers, who can't construct societies because they're too preoccupied with their whimsy - and these chaos-bringers who live only to destroy the makings of others. Just as light magic has its counterpart in witchcraft, fae magic has its chaotic opposite. By bringing fae magic into yourself and then drowning it in darkness, you are becoming an agent of chaos, like this 'Corrinth' figure you and your pact have spoken of."
"But all I drank was a cup of the wine!" you argue, suddenly terrified of the prospect of becoming everything that you and Embryx feared when you learned of your altered perception of reality.
The lich bangs her cane on the ground, annoyed with your interruption. "...And so the rest of you is still here, looking for solutions. A chaotic faerie has no need of sanity, and so they don't seek it unless they mean to destroy it. Now, what you must do if you wish to remove that taint from your mind, is to find a scholar who can entice the chaos to consume itself, and leave your mind intact."
"That zoundz rare," Wag replies.
Kulka laughs, coldly. "As hen's teeth!" she declares. "To study chaos magic, one must not only be capable of wielding dark magic, but also bold enough to risk their own mind in the pursuit of the unknowable. But what truly makes them a devil of a time to find is: they need to be someone you can trust with your life. If they have embraced chaos, it is infinitely more likely that they will seek your destruction instead of your salvation," she explains.
You nod, grimly. Finding salvation from your growing mania might be more difficult than anything else you've dared to wish for. Embryx, likewise, stares into space with a look of defeat on her brow. You sigh, before forcing a smile to reassure her, even by the smallest of degrees. "...My head hurts. Can we find a cleric before setting out?"
By the time you've finished meeting and greeting with the Thandan pact, had your last drinks from the coven-owned inn, said your goodbyes to Fiola and Wag, gotten healed, and set out on the road back to Manlaash, Embryx has sobered up and regained a sense of humor - buoyed by the thought that the girl she so idolizes is still fighting for a better future than endless carnage and retribution. Although the roads have been left buried under ten inches of snow, the weather has calmed significantly since yesterday and a pale blue sky greets the four of you: you, Embryx, Stalna, and Kulka.
One thought bothers you though: you've set out later in the day than you intended. You figure that there's no chance that Corrinth has gone undiscovered by this point, and if she isn't dead, she's escaped. Despite your worries, Kulka refuses to ride any more quickly than normal, citing the icy conditions and the danger of injuring your horses on the way.
You have a bit of time to kill.
1. Discuss the Route Ahead - Beyond Manlaash, you intend to head south into elvan territory in hopes of fairer weather and shorter travel times. However, you know very little about the cities along the way, and what hazards you might encounter... aside from the general distaste of the elves toward tabaxis.
2. Discuss Kulka's Journey - When you first encountered Kulka yesterday, you were surprised to learn that she's a lich. She's been a calm and accommodating figure since then; maybe it would be prudent to learn her story.
3. Discuss the Pandemonium Door - After missing your chance to visit the reliquary last night, you decide to see what Kulka might know about the artifact you carry, and why it might be glowing red the longer you carry it.
Option 2: 2 Votes (29% - Range: 15-43)
Option 3: 4 Votes (57% - Range: 44-100)
Fae Roll: 8
And yet, as you open your mouth to speak, an uneasiness settles over you. As quickly as the thought may have asserted itself in your mind, you feel uncertain about its validity. It was Nytha, two years ago, who identified your preoccupation with enacting twisted punishments on your enemies, but haven't you grown a lot since then? Haven't you experienced love, friendship, and belonging, and preferred them to the dirty business of wringing blood and souls out of bodies - even in the short and tantalizing bursts you've received them?
On some days, your worst tendencies are brought out by the dark magic in your veins, and your careless abandon for applying it. It can be difficult to remember that, even in the midst of prophesy that suggests otherwise, you are in fact still a mortal for the moment, and just yesterday almost died, even. But you just woke up; you've done nothing with your magic as of yet today, and there isn't some dark thread pulling at your heart's desires. This is something else...
And then, as you sit there, still unable to answer, it hits you: your fae-touched mind is again denying you a tempered response, demanding chaos instead. You want to say something about your fascination with the constructs of life and death, and how you would aspire to be the patron of souls already beyond the veil, like your sister and Ika. After all the frustration you've caused Embryx lately, wouldn't it be right to show her that you want to make something better of yourself?
You suddenly and inadvertently laugh - yipping like a fox and catching yourself completely off-guard. You cover your mouth as if to contain it, but you can't. The mirth of your laughter doesn't match the fear in your eyes, and Embryx can see it. Her amusement with your discomfort over the question turns to concern, and Wag quickly follows.
Embryx tries to assure you, planting her hand on your shoulder. "Hey, hey..." she coos. "You don't have to tell us if you don't want to-"
"I'll be..." you strain, trying not to fixate on the idea, but the more you try not to think about it, the more your mind floods with imagery of Diala's crushed skull, Veralt and the royal mages' rotting guts spilling from their bodies, the limbs ripping free of Count Caspan's trunk, and innumerable wicked little indulgences that make you feel warm and fuzzy inside, even as they disgust you. "...I'll be the patron god of the vengeful," you reluctantly speak before burying your face in your hands and crying. And yet, even as tears trickle from your eyes, you can barely stifle the laughter.
What are you laughing at? Is it your helplessness? Your madness feasts on the discord between your id and ego.
"Are you okay?" Wag asks, breaking an uncomfortable silence. You shake your head without looking at her, but then Embryx grabs your wrist and pulls your hand down forcefully.
You stare at her fearfully - not just for yourself, but for the menace in her eyes, a look typically reserved for her enemies, like Corrinth. "I don't believe it," she says, fiercely. You nod, accepting her judgement of your answer without arguing. She keeps staring for a while longer, before letting out a few unpleasant chuckles of her own. "...We'll have to see if there's a way to undo some of the damage from the faerie wine we drank. You're not thinking straight."
You breathe a sigh of relief that Embryx seems to know exactly what's happening to you. Maybe when she glimpsed your thoughts and realized how much you loathed your lack of control, she gained the insight to understand that the best way to support you is to guide you back to yourself. You look across the room, to Kulka, and call out to her. "Hey, uh, elder sister? Do you know of any way to help someone who's been fae-touched like me?"
Utterly deadpan, she replies: "money's always good."
Your entire table aside from Fiola breaks into unnerving laughter as Kulka hops off her chair and ambles over to you. "I've heard of methods to reverse the damage, yes, but I've never seen them employed," the elder explains. "And also, if you want to cure yourself, you'll need to head east, to southern Pfeiland. You're headed west, no? You don't have the time."
"What's east?" you emphatically reply, nonetheless. "...I'll come back this way if I have to, after the comet has passed."
Kulka taps her cane a few times as she prepares to summarize a long story of a rumor she once heard. "There are creatures," she begins, "which feast on chaos, and so they sow it wherever they go. The fae you know are divided amongst themselves between the pleasure-seekers, who can't construct societies because they're too preoccupied with their whimsy - and these chaos-bringers who live only to destroy the makings of others. Just as light magic has its counterpart in witchcraft, fae magic has its chaotic opposite. By bringing fae magic into yourself and then drowning it in darkness, you are becoming an agent of chaos, like this 'Corrinth' figure you and your pact have spoken of."
"But all I drank was a cup of the wine!" you argue, suddenly terrified of the prospect of becoming everything that you and Embryx feared when you learned of your altered perception of reality.
The lich bangs her cane on the ground, annoyed with your interruption. "...And so the rest of you is still here, looking for solutions. A chaotic faerie has no need of sanity, and so they don't seek it unless they mean to destroy it. Now, what you must do if you wish to remove that taint from your mind, is to find a scholar who can entice the chaos to consume itself, and leave your mind intact."
"That zoundz rare," Wag replies.
Kulka laughs, coldly. "As hen's teeth!" she declares. "To study chaos magic, one must not only be capable of wielding dark magic, but also bold enough to risk their own mind in the pursuit of the unknowable. But what truly makes them a devil of a time to find is: they need to be someone you can trust with your life. If they have embraced chaos, it is infinitely more likely that they will seek your destruction instead of your salvation," she explains.
You nod, grimly. Finding salvation from your growing mania might be more difficult than anything else you've dared to wish for. Embryx, likewise, stares into space with a look of defeat on her brow. You sigh, before forcing a smile to reassure her, even by the smallest of degrees. "...My head hurts. Can we find a cleric before setting out?"
---
By the time you've finished meeting and greeting with the Thandan pact, had your last drinks from the coven-owned inn, said your goodbyes to Fiola and Wag, gotten healed, and set out on the road back to Manlaash, Embryx has sobered up and regained a sense of humor - buoyed by the thought that the girl she so idolizes is still fighting for a better future than endless carnage and retribution. Although the roads have been left buried under ten inches of snow, the weather has calmed significantly since yesterday and a pale blue sky greets the four of you: you, Embryx, Stalna, and Kulka.
One thought bothers you though: you've set out later in the day than you intended. You figure that there's no chance that Corrinth has gone undiscovered by this point, and if she isn't dead, she's escaped. Despite your worries, Kulka refuses to ride any more quickly than normal, citing the icy conditions and the danger of injuring your horses on the way.
You have a bit of time to kill.
1. Discuss the Route Ahead - Beyond Manlaash, you intend to head south into elvan territory in hopes of fairer weather and shorter travel times. However, you know very little about the cities along the way, and what hazards you might encounter... aside from the general distaste of the elves toward tabaxis.
2. Discuss Kulka's Journey - When you first encountered Kulka yesterday, you were surprised to learn that she's a lich. She's been a calm and accommodating figure since then; maybe it would be prudent to learn her story.
3. Discuss the Pandemonium Door - After missing your chance to visit the reliquary last night, you decide to see what Kulka might know about the artifact you carry, and why it might be glowing red the longer you carry it.
Infab
The Demon Fanatic
1
hardcore.munchkin
Professional hater
3
joshuadim
the writer
2
Breadman
Big loaf supreme
3
Damian0358
Roleplaying Procrastinator From Elsewhere
2
bat_hacker
Junior Member
3
CHUUYAS_HAT
ᴏɴᴇ ᴋɪꜱꜱ ɪꜱ ᴀʟʟ ɪᴛ ᴛᴀᴋᴇꜱ
3
Discuss the Pandemonium Door
New
K0mori
Servant Supreme
Option 1: 1 Vote (14% - Range: 1-14)
Option 2: 2 Votes (29% - Range: 15-43)
Option 3: 4 Votes (57% - Range: 44-100)
Fae Roll: 60
You take the relic out of your pocket and examine it again, looking over the sigils on each surface and wondering who carved them. "Hey, Kulka...?" you ask slowly as you look back over your shoulder. The ghoulish goblin peers back at you from beneath her shadowy hood. "How much does the coven actually know about the Door?"
"Not a lot is 'known,' sister, but quite a lot is theorized, rumored, and suspected," she replies in her harsh voice. "It was kept from us for centuries until your arrival, tightly guarded... My pact is investigating the reliquary in Thandan as we speak, but it may be some time before we know what our enemies have known. But this is the story as I have heard it, from my teachers and contemporaries..." she begins, settling in for a long story. "Long ago, when the world was freshly formed, anima and necros had not taken shape, and a boundless energy raged through the empty land. This energy took on many forms, all at once - mental and spiritual conceptions, physical manifestations...
"This power is the essence of divinity. And from that instant emerged the foremost gods and goddesses. Chief among them was Zephimus, as he-"
Embryx interrupts. "Do we really need to hear of the world's creation to understand where the Door came from?"
"Yes," Kulka replies without looking at her. "As I was saying... Zephimus was first among his peers, as his power to create - which he paradoxically used to will himself into existence - was also responsible for their emergence and the domains over which they presided. Thus they each possessed a fragment of his power to create in kind. The concepts of good and evil, likewise, sprung into existence at this crucial moment, although the gods showed no favor to either as they plodded along in their course, seeding life throughout the world and creating the cycles of day and night, the seasons of year, of birth, growth, and death. All things were fair and welcome...
"Man and mer, and the lesser creatures of mortality, were unique among the gods' creations, as they were barred from the raw divinity which embodied all else in our reality. Among those early gods, there formed a disagreement. In their creations, they recognized the essence of divinity, regardless of its absence. There was creation - as we mortals made art, shared stories, erected buildings and monuments, and brought forth our progeny. There was nature - we mortals tended to the needs of the land, of course, cultivating life and spreading it. And then there was merrymaking, charity, war, and magic. The latter, according to some, was the sole domain of Syrith herself."
"What?" Stalna gasps as she meets your gaze, finding you equally surprised. Whatever heretical version of the world's origin had been passed onto Kulka was totally unknown to the rest of you.
Embryx grimaces and shakes her head. "According to who, exactly?" she demands.
"Names that you will fail to recognize due to your abundant ignorance, little sister," Kulka replies with only a hint of annoyance.
You look to Embryx sympathetically before turning back to Kulka. "Please continue, elder sister," you request, uncomfortably.
The goblin nods approvingly. "...The disagreement emerged from the presence of magic. Zephimus had designed an intricate world, you see - full of contradictions. And this included magic, which contained therein the power to defy the limitations and boundaries of mortal beings which Zephimus had defined so carefully. The gods watched in morbid fascination at the 'petty gods' they had unleashed in their reckless abandon," Kulka explains, a certain devilish trill in her voice that darkens the next moment:
"And it was then, and only then, that Zephimus created the moral imperative. Suddenly, acts which were good were imposed upon the world, and imposed upon the pantheon. And it just so happened that 'goodness' was always that which preserves Zephimus' design. All magic not in service to his aims or those of his loyal pawns was to be reviled by mortals and gods alike. ...And he created the heavens and the hells to reward the faithful and punish those who dared to defy his new decrees."
You blink in amazement at the story. If Kulka is correct, then it explains why Syrith is commonly held as the goddess of witchcraft, while there is no single god of light magic. It had all been her domain until the moral imperative stole away her light-hearted followers as they devoted themselves to Zephimus. It also explains why Syrith's afterlife is absent of form - refusing to accept Zephimus' demand to pit good against evil is, by its rebellious nature, an evil act. If Syrith was somehow cast out of the pantheon as a result, then maybe her afterlife is formless simply because Zephimus never created it!
"...Now, you wish to know what I know of that artifact?" Kulka drones on. "There is an irony about Zephimus and his work: if dismantling his own design is an evil act, and Syrith was once part of it, then he cannot destroy her or deny her existence without committing an unforgivable sin. And so he seeks to repurpose her as nothing more than a cautionary tale - an embodiment of all which must be rejected by mortals. She, in turn, rejects his vision of godhood as a castle-on-high, its bulwarks looming over us. She alone still recognizes that essence of divinity within all of us, and that is why she does not accept prayers. The Pandemonium Door appeared amidst the great upheaval of the imperative... And since so much of this story has survived, even without written language, there can be only one conclusion as to the Door's origin in absence of any explanation."
"Syrith created it herself," you reply. On some level, you already expected it - Diala's theory that the ancient mages of prehistory somehow possessed the knowledge necessary to create an artifact of infinite magic has seemed increasingly far-fetched in the years which have passed.
Kulka nods. "Yes. It's thought to harness the power of Syrith's own divinity to infinitely rekindle the pneuma of its bearer."
1. This is Helpful - "Is there anything else you know?" you coax her. "Has the the Door ever turned red like this before?"
2. This is Not Helpful - As you sit in silence, trying to remember why you asked in the first place, Embryx comes up beside you and speaks quietly: "Please change the subject," she pleads. "I feel like I'm back in church."
Option 2: 2 Votes (29% - Range: 15-43)
Option 3: 4 Votes (57% - Range: 44-100)
Fae Roll: 60
You take the relic out of your pocket and examine it again, looking over the sigils on each surface and wondering who carved them. "Hey, Kulka...?" you ask slowly as you look back over your shoulder. The ghoulish goblin peers back at you from beneath her shadowy hood. "How much does the coven actually know about the Door?"
"Not a lot is 'known,' sister, but quite a lot is theorized, rumored, and suspected," she replies in her harsh voice. "It was kept from us for centuries until your arrival, tightly guarded... My pact is investigating the reliquary in Thandan as we speak, but it may be some time before we know what our enemies have known. But this is the story as I have heard it, from my teachers and contemporaries..." she begins, settling in for a long story. "Long ago, when the world was freshly formed, anima and necros had not taken shape, and a boundless energy raged through the empty land. This energy took on many forms, all at once - mental and spiritual conceptions, physical manifestations...
"This power is the essence of divinity. And from that instant emerged the foremost gods and goddesses. Chief among them was Zephimus, as he-"
Embryx interrupts. "Do we really need to hear of the world's creation to understand where the Door came from?"
"Yes," Kulka replies without looking at her. "As I was saying... Zephimus was first among his peers, as his power to create - which he paradoxically used to will himself into existence - was also responsible for their emergence and the domains over which they presided. Thus they each possessed a fragment of his power to create in kind. The concepts of good and evil, likewise, sprung into existence at this crucial moment, although the gods showed no favor to either as they plodded along in their course, seeding life throughout the world and creating the cycles of day and night, the seasons of year, of birth, growth, and death. All things were fair and welcome...
"Man and mer, and the lesser creatures of mortality, were unique among the gods' creations, as they were barred from the raw divinity which embodied all else in our reality. Among those early gods, there formed a disagreement. In their creations, they recognized the essence of divinity, regardless of its absence. There was creation - as we mortals made art, shared stories, erected buildings and monuments, and brought forth our progeny. There was nature - we mortals tended to the needs of the land, of course, cultivating life and spreading it. And then there was merrymaking, charity, war, and magic. The latter, according to some, was the sole domain of Syrith herself."
"What?" Stalna gasps as she meets your gaze, finding you equally surprised. Whatever heretical version of the world's origin had been passed onto Kulka was totally unknown to the rest of you.
Embryx grimaces and shakes her head. "According to who, exactly?" she demands.
"Names that you will fail to recognize due to your abundant ignorance, little sister," Kulka replies with only a hint of annoyance.
You look to Embryx sympathetically before turning back to Kulka. "Please continue, elder sister," you request, uncomfortably.
The goblin nods approvingly. "...The disagreement emerged from the presence of magic. Zephimus had designed an intricate world, you see - full of contradictions. And this included magic, which contained therein the power to defy the limitations and boundaries of mortal beings which Zephimus had defined so carefully. The gods watched in morbid fascination at the 'petty gods' they had unleashed in their reckless abandon," Kulka explains, a certain devilish trill in her voice that darkens the next moment:
"And it was then, and only then, that Zephimus created the moral imperative. Suddenly, acts which were good were imposed upon the world, and imposed upon the pantheon. And it just so happened that 'goodness' was always that which preserves Zephimus' design. All magic not in service to his aims or those of his loyal pawns was to be reviled by mortals and gods alike. ...And he created the heavens and the hells to reward the faithful and punish those who dared to defy his new decrees."
You blink in amazement at the story. If Kulka is correct, then it explains why Syrith is commonly held as the goddess of witchcraft, while there is no single god of light magic. It had all been her domain until the moral imperative stole away her light-hearted followers as they devoted themselves to Zephimus. It also explains why Syrith's afterlife is absent of form - refusing to accept Zephimus' demand to pit good against evil is, by its rebellious nature, an evil act. If Syrith was somehow cast out of the pantheon as a result, then maybe her afterlife is formless simply because Zephimus never created it!
"...Now, you wish to know what I know of that artifact?" Kulka drones on. "There is an irony about Zephimus and his work: if dismantling his own design is an evil act, and Syrith was once part of it, then he cannot destroy her or deny her existence without committing an unforgivable sin. And so he seeks to repurpose her as nothing more than a cautionary tale - an embodiment of all which must be rejected by mortals. She, in turn, rejects his vision of godhood as a castle-on-high, its bulwarks looming over us. She alone still recognizes that essence of divinity within all of us, and that is why she does not accept prayers. The Pandemonium Door appeared amidst the great upheaval of the imperative... And since so much of this story has survived, even without written language, there can be only one conclusion as to the Door's origin in absence of any explanation."
"Syrith created it herself," you reply. On some level, you already expected it - Diala's theory that the ancient mages of prehistory somehow possessed the knowledge necessary to create an artifact of infinite magic has seemed increasingly far-fetched in the years which have passed.
Kulka nods. "Yes. It's thought to harness the power of Syrith's own divinity to infinitely rekindle the pneuma of its bearer."
1. This is Helpful - "Is there anything else you know?" you coax her. "Has the the Door ever turned red like this before?"
2. This is Not Helpful - As you sit in silence, trying to remember why you asked in the first place, Embryx comes up beside you and speaks quietly: "Please change the subject," she pleads. "I feel like I'm back in church."
Last edited:
