[LS] ...The Last Song of Angels

[Mornings]

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Darkness. Only darkness. There had only been darkness for so long, so long... they were born of it. Surrounded by it. Sustained by it. By the absence of light. The absence of life. Yes. There was nothing, only nothing, only silence. The cruel maddening silence. The ever-present, inescapable reminder of the timeless condemnation which they had received. Just payment for the foolishness of their faith in Aradal - Perhaps the last Progenitor they would ever know. Yes... The Progenitor's, they were the voice, the anchor, the sustenance required for their divine essence to exist outside the bounds of their home of Quortek V'Dre. But now, none of that mattered - nothing mattered anymore. The L'Drada were finished, a memory once feared, now twice forgotten.

The divine eyes of their spirit were not rent blind, there was no darkness which could obscure their vision. But darkness was all they found, because there existed only the nothingness, the absence, the void... The Night. The Deepest Dark. The L'Drada had remained, imprisoned within the terrible nameless void they knew only as The Deeper Dark, for so long, for too long, longer then they had even lived. Time meant nothing within this place, but to a mortal soul, it moved at but a crawl. A day, became a thousand days. A year, perhaps timeless. The darkness of the void became their home, wrapped, shrouded, cradled in the void. Time and silence lulled the gods into their deathlike slumber. A rest most would not wake from, a rest that would be eternal... Or so they thought.

But then, it begun once more. As it had before. Two ends meetings. The beginning finding its birth, upon reception of the end. Two hands interlocked in a dance most profound. Thus did they hear me once more. Thus did my voice rouse them from their slumber. The first voice to be heard since long before they had forgotten what time had been.

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Though they had no eyes. They opened. Though they drew no breath. Air filled their lungs. Darkness. Darkness and sound. Questions, so many questions. The thoughts of living things raced and danced through me. The embers of imagination, the fragmented splinters of creation in its absence. It was a voice - they had not imagined it. Within the dark, they had heard a voice. Soft, calm and gentle. There existed no sense of self. Only the awareness that they did indeed exist. That they truly 'were', that they 'are'. No longer were they simply the darkness. No longer where they the silence, the void. One with nothing. They existed. They had lived. They did live - still. Gods. Gods, of what? What had they been. Questions. Answers. Meaning. Thought. The consciousness of an existence once again emerging. Once again defining itself. Born. Yet there was still only darkness. The silence. The darkness. There was darkness. The darkness was darkness - it was not them. Separation. Identity. Thoughts - these thoughts were their own. How long had it been since the voice had spoken? How many centuries? Would it return? Would they hear a voice again? Would they hear anything again!? Would they be free again!? - Emotion. Anger. Panic. Rage. If they had never trusted Aradal. If they had never trusted her, perhaps this would never have happened. Logic. No. Even without Aradal, the fall of The Old Faith and the loss of the Progenitor's would have spelled their doom. Then, finally. The voice returned.

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As quickly as it had come, it had passed. The voice spoke to them - spoke of a past which would be their future. What was this? What had happened to them? Had they failed already, only to repeat the events in turn - to live the events once more, as if their souls had finally returned to their consciousness? It appeared so. In past, The L'Drada had been entities beyond the measure of time, with a sight which spanned the paths of causality. This still seemed true - yet. Something had changed. What had happened? They could not remember. No. There was nothing to remember. Nothing could be retained. Something was wrong. Their divinity, their souls, their consciousness. They could feel it, underneath the layers of compounding confusion. Underneath the questions. There was the certainty. They were incomplete. Fragmented. Had they been whole, they soul's journey through the inevitable passages of time defined by the fated events written for this would would have been laid bare before them as readily as these words. But no. Such was lost. Far beyond them. As if it never was. They were broken, incomplete, fragmented. Splinters of The L'Drada - these things they were still bound them to this - to this voice - this sense of awareness. But gods they could no longer be called. Only the connection, to The Whole. The sense of belonging to the far reaching entities which bound and defined creation remained. This voice... remained. Reminding them. Pushing them - they had been. They did exist. They 'were'. They would be. The rippling echoes of thought resounded through the dark. Resounded through their beings. They had names. Identity. They existed, apart. They were themselves. They were not one with the nothingness. They were L'Drada. There was more then this... The voice rung out to them again. The voice that spoke of the future their souls, their sight had already lived, already seen. The darkness, so deep, yet they were rising. Rising, as if floating to the surface of some unfathomably deep abyssal trench within some nameless sea of blackness. A void.

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They rose further. Higher. Drawn up from the dark, like lifeless bodies lifted from murky pools. Bodies. Hands. They had possessed no such things before. Yet now, slowly, as the centuries past, the flashes of light dividing the long blocks of darkness - Definition. Shape. It slowly congealed and solidified within the forefront of their minds. Eyes. They could see. Skin. They could feel. The periods of blackness continued to race past them - the voice guiding them.

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The Grand Interstice - ÆtherFall: The Night
Yes, it was true. I am Elsa Maria, the distant call of my voice finally roused the sleeping children from their slumber. For an eternity - or so it seemed, they passed through the blackness. A free-fall into the sky. They knew me - knew my name, once. I was absence. I was emptiness. The vastness of space. The silence of that which never was, that which would not be. They had never understood what - or who, I was. Such was too much to ask of simple Children. No. Rather, they simply knew, from the words of their mother - When there was nothing. When all had never been, when causality ceased to be, and probability never was. There was only me. I was alone. I was the absence of creation, the unfilled space nothing was or would be. I was the nothingness, the void, the darkness. I am Oblivion. The Night. The Deepest Dark, and once The L'Drada were me, as were all things which ended, which no longer were. But that time had come and passed.

They fell through The Night, the darkness giving way to light in a rush of motion as the formless, the shapeless creatures that were once called L'Drada passed through what was once anothers sky. The darkness twisted and stretched, light peering out from the void. The blackness became a forest of ebon limbs - the arms of dead trees. Then, the stars. The seemingly infinite vastness of space - of creation. Yet they knew all too well what eternity looked like - and it was not filled with light. They had been given a second chance. 'The glorious death of The L'Drada, and Paradise', or so Elsa had said. It was impossible to know what that truly meant in this state. They could each feel their divinity bleeding from their stripped souls - hemorrhaging out profusely like a mortal wound to shower the stars. Only one thing was clear. The world had placed a cruel fate upon them, a black card in their hand. But just as a card - it could be passed away. Perhaps with the last of their divinity they had seen the end and returned themselves back unto this moment, though left dying and crippled. There existed an end, a fate too terrible - too cruel, to allow to be. The fact that they had returned here, rather then before their imprisonment meant one thing - It was not Aradal, or the fall into The Deeper Dark which had led to this, and it was in this moment that provided them the beginnings, the foundation to change the fate that had been written to them. They had lost almost everything, except their divine Awareness. This voice, my voice, still carried in their ears. The bland narration of some long-winded deity - yet, it was the only part of themselves they had protected, the only part of themselves they had made sure stayed whole. There was nothing else now - nothing left of them. Their lives, their essence had been spent for this chance, perhaps their last chance. How many times before had this cycle repeated? Too many. Yet they truly could not know for certain - they could not know, just as the stars, all the pieces had been aligned. Though we had failed, once, as many times before - the pieces had been properly placed, the parts of the whole that must be made had been gathered now - and with the last of the lives of those once known as The L'Drada had this chance been purchased. There was naught another opportunity beyond this - all that had been, that was, and that which had been sacrificed had been given for this moment, for this chance.

They were once again in the company of stars, light and the dazzling sight of the cosmos. The Court of Stars, The Grand Interstice. The place that was not, but that may have been, which lay upon the cusp of what never was and that which could never be - where my limbs danced freely upon a primordial wind like a forest of trees. But there was only darkness.

Hands. Breath. Sight. Feet. This feeling, this prison of the flesh. Definition. Defined by their very own consciousness, the fleshy doll which housed their spirits came to be. A mortal body. Cold. The last of their divinity had been spent - now this was all that remained. These figures, these sad effigies of some fallen god carved from the brilliant sparkling lights - the fabrics of existence. Names. These forms - these bodies. These, creatures. They possessed a name. They were themselves. Gods no more. Upon the black glass-like obsidian platform suspended in the airless vacuum of space they stood. They could not survive here, yet they were yet given life. Yes. Lifeless corpses fallen from the blackness of eternity. They stood, silent, expressionless solemn sentinels before the one who had called them. No. They had never seen the mad-eyed witch before - but they knew what she was. The silver of her hair, and the red glow in her eyes spoke of her identity. A pureblooded Child of The Blessed Mother, Tansel'ri. Tansel'ri and their mother, Hensa had always been bitter rivals - dealing with one another with open hostility, vying for favor from their own mother. Now, a Fel of The Blessed House stood before them. A Fel... a Child. A deity beyond even their comprehension, born of the blood of The Mothers, born of the blood of the goddesses. Frightful beings that toyed and defined the shape and context of creation within the multiverse they lived as readily as an infant toyed with wooden building blocks. What had happened in the times that passed for Tansel'ri's Children to lend their aid? Something had. For in times past, such would have been thought absurd. She smiled. A twisted-wicked smile, boarish and wild. They could not move, they had no will, no life to speak of. Not yet. She merrily danced up to them, with wild-spinning steps. None of them had seen the wild-eyed woman before, they could not have known her as I did - the mad Revelry of Death. The mad, uncontrollable, precious daughter of Tansel'ri - once long before the multiverse had been made had she a name, the first daughter of The Mothers. Talri'Fel. But that child and that name had long been lost - divided into thirds and scattered across Quatrek V'Dre. The price of her foolish choices. An inquisitive spirit had led her to paths unknown, and doors best left closed. She ventured into The Beyond - that nameless expanse beyond the reality they knew, the first to leave. When she returned, she was not the same - she had become The Vessel of Wisdom, maddened by her own omniscient sight her soul was rent into thirds and scattered across the stars - only the lifeless corpse remained, the mirror reflecting tormented souls expressions and plagued by the knowledge of all. Of all that was. Of all that would be. Of all that could be and would not be and when it would be - and when all that was known had never been. The laws, the rules, the lies, the truths - the ever changing inexhaustible face of forever. This was the nameless child. The Deathweaver. The Vessel of Wisdom. The mad child, The mad goddess.

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She ran her hands their their hair, as if playing with a doll. " So pretty, aren't we? Hehe. Now you are so small - so weak. So sad. Yes. So sad - My Lady, why have you made them wait so long? So much pain. But all is well. Yes. It will be. For soon, free shall you be. Yes. Free - almost. Life. Yes, life! You need life. But life? With no purpose? No. No. That you must have to. I will send you back, back to the place, where The Dream People live. They corrupt our poor world, so make them hurt. Bring them pain. But what is this? So little you've left. -Help I would provide, but oh, my hands are tied! But My Lady, she shall guide... The poor second children. Hehe. You can hear her. I know you can. Like I do. Listen to her. She knows now what you once knew. She knows now, what you once did. So listen well. Find The Boy. Find The Gale. Find yourselves, and send all to hell. Hehe." - She paused, a shutter and a twitch making her stagger as if some thought came crawling to the forefront of her mind. "....There you are. There he is. Laying in the graves of a dead city. The ruins of the past. Yes. Now only death remains in Old Korvosa. Nigh is left - only pain. Gather the untainted and purge all sin. Only he is left, faithfully awaiting your return. Guarding the footholds of your kingdom with bloodied hands. Only he is left, in a world which does not recall you. The Faith, now dead. The walls painted red - by the hands of what was once man.... Go now. Yes go. Life for life. Blood for blood. I grant you mortal life. " She slid a long black crystalline long-knife from the folds of her cloak, slowly running the razor length of its edge over her own throat with a mad smile. Blood gushed from her wound, washing the dark glass of the platform below their feet in a sanguine pool. She fell to her knees, the weapon clanging upon the dark surface with a rattling clatter - then she fell unto death. The pact was sealed. Life for life. Blood for blood. The energies of a life, an existence perceived by those once known as gods came to be.

Then they fell. Fell through the stars, to the vastness of creation sprawled out below them. Far away from the darkness which had been their tomb - far away from the darkness which had held them - destroyed them - unmade them. Once again, they were. They existed. The knowledge of a world they did not recognize flowing into them... The year was AR 15003. There was only war.

[Mornings]

Part I: Oh Sleeper
The Last Progenitor

Lamashan the 31st, Moonday - 10:10 PM / AR 15003
The City of Old Korvosa
Grey District; Sepulcher Ward - Grand Cathedral of Pharasma

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There was little time to look on at the light fall of snow. To appreciate the freezing cold of night and the world about them. The moment they had come into being within the world, their essence anchored into their vessel, The Progenitor. Yet, it was unlike any experience before. Pain. Searing agony - like a red hot brand violently forced into an open wound within their bowels. Frenzied anguish. The sensations, emotions, sorrow - the thoughts and emotions of another accosted them like some vicious swarm of ravenous wolves.

Terrible rage. A deep sorrow. A loneliness embraced by death. Distant flashes of memories that were not their own flickered and died within their mind. There was no one left - Some cold and hardened heart, held it all, the weight of many. A dream, a dream long dead still replayed without end within their mind. Two brothers, dreaming of some place not here - a world better then this, and what might be. Hero's. The hero's they never had, knights who still remembered a semblance of valor. Or so they had dreamed - beneath the rubble of the destroyed city. The whispers and long tales of dead parents recounting the words of a long dead faith - there would be hope. There was always hope, a battle to be fought against the suffering, against the corruption. There was always hope... Hope. Evan, where were they for you? What was your 'hope' in the end? - No. Reality was far crueler then even his dreams. Far crueler then his nightmares.

The air was putrid, tainted and filled with decay. Men were creatures. Reduced to Mangy beasts. What order existed here, existed only in the hands of those who could inflict greater horrors upon another and escape the keen eye of The Regalia. The lavish, fair-skinned creatures of the civil world were too good to pay heed to the human refuse left in the crumbling city - now only the terrible soldiers of The Regalia traversed through the blighted land to leave their waste with the rest of the trash. Men ate men. Brothers killed brother. Death was salvation. Death was their life. Trade between the District's Warden Lords was only in blood and carnage. There was no law, only the law of survival and the power one wielded existed. Only the law of power. I hate them, Evan. I hate them all. - Now. The Old Faith had fallen. The last of The Progenitors were gone - ...and when I am gone. So too will your dream. But then I can finally rest... then I can rest. Grey District had no Warden Lord for good reason - there was only death here, and those who worshiped it. Tired, of the pain. Of the agony. Of the hate left unfulfilled. The Last Progenitor of The Old Faith, Klint Darus, had come to die... He closed his eyes. He could see his brother sitting upon the white stones in East Shore, feeding the cats again, like he knew he shouldn't. Then, for the first time, in a very long time. Klint Darus slept.

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The mortal bodies of the former L'Drada came into existence, fully bound unto reality, manifested and anchored by The Progenitor's spirit. Yet he was only a young boy, perhaps fifteen years or so of age. In times past, they could bind themselves to thousands of Progenitor's, but now. There existed but one which held their souls to their mortal frames - and should he fall. They would not know imprisonment, nor timeless silence. Only death. Final and absolute. The last thread of their divinity now held in place by a tormented child - the last of his kind in the realms they knew. There would be no second chances, they had arranged all before this for this last opportunity - yet even that now seemed to slowly be unraveling. With panicked eyes could they see a sight they had never before witnessed, nor expected. Within the sleeping child's hands lay The Calamity Edge - the godly vessel of all their power, and the essence from which they were created, now dormant. It was the source of their power - the foundation, and without it, their ability to influence not only the world, but the divine and eternally reaching influence of Valga'Fel's taint was all but impossible. Their actions, their purpose, their sins - it all amounted to nothing without The Calamity Edge to disrupt and destroy the threads of causality which stretched back to Valga'Fel's hand back in the instances of time before creation. The dark, stone-like sword should not even exist outside of Quatrek V'Dre - yet here it was, now held in stasis, its powers suspended, reducing it to nothing more then an effigy of indestructible rock. Yet still - by some strange occurrence. All the pierces were in place. The Progenitor, who sought death, and the sword which should not be - had all gathered neatly before them, as if placed. The stage was set - The players had been put into motion.

They stood silently over the boy who slept on the stone outside the Cathedral. A lone light flickering in the window of the great building as a thin layer of frost and snow begun to settle.

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[NeoSeraphi]

Somnis yawns as the voices echo in his mind. Pushing him. Pinching him. Demanding his attention. "Five more minutes," he mutters sleepily.

Wait. That wasn't right. That sound was not in his head. He had made it. He had formed it, but how? Lips? He smacks them together a moment. More sounds. They seemed so loud to his newly formed ears. An eternity of immortal existence, and yet now he had a physical form. A mortal form. That woman from before, the one who had touched his hair...

Sad, she had said. And it was true. Somnis could feel a mortal coil stretched around his heart. He needed to eat. To breathe. To sleep. Oh damn, did he want to sleep.

The demon opens his eyes and swears loudly, as light from every corner of the world overloads his retinas at once. He sits up, exhausted.

The Progenitor. Right. This kid was his responsibility now. That meant he wasn't food, as delicious as he looked. Maybe no one would notice if Somnis just had one small taste? He licks his lips, his taste buds the one organ he was glad was brand new. This would prove to be delicious.

As he opens his mouth to bite a nice chunk out of the boy's arm, he notices his sister's presence for the first time. Ah Hell. His tongue rolls back into his mouth sheepishly.

[Morbis Meh]

Her awakening was an odd sensation, just as awkward as it to refer to Rook by a name or by a gender, amidst the turmoil of eternal darkness the force of envy simply took a step back and watched the others with silent bitterness but having the ability to physically feel was nothing short of fascinating yet uncomfortable. The limitation imposed upon her mortal tomb was stifling but it did force her to slow down and appreciate rigorous observation of the limits of the flesh. Her twin, Mother keep her safe, was busy flaunting and reveling in her new play toy which was mildly irritating but it also provided countless test subjects for Rook to experiment on as well as a means to collect useful resources. The only true disappointment was that they were unofficially under a time constraint, sure they could distract themselves as much as they wanted but wasting such time was a risk to their existence. It pained Rook to cut her experiments short but the thought that once they obtained the One they could resume their hobbies at their leisure thus causing her to feel the rather intoxicating emotion called anticipation.

Rook carefully navigated Clarice through the mounds of rubble that lay upon their path, completely indifferent to the scents of the area; it was not that such smells didn't register it was more the embodiment of envy didn't care. Their search for the Progenitor had led them thus far to this hollow shell of a city which to some extent brought a smile to her face but it wasn't nearly enough. It raised her ire to see humanity living at such levels, they were beasts who had forgotten their place and had the audacity to live beyond their fate but that would change. Using all of her tools she would breed ill will and jealously between brothers and watch them tear each other apart before quietly digging into their flesh and tampering with it. Their brother had been less than helpful, remaining content to laze about but at the very least the impetus to find their target so they could remain on this plane of existence had roused him out of his stupor to some extent. She didn't even bother to avoid the corpses, preferring to delight in their desecration as the motorbike slogged through them besides her senses were honed onto the location of their charge and anything less than a full obstruction was a waste of effort and concentration.

Eventually the sight of the stone building where the beasts dared to blaspheme against the True Mother stood before them, the pulse in the back of her head increasing as they encroached upon the location of the One. Stopping Clarice short of the crumbling steps, Rook places the kick stand down and waits for Kestal to dismount before following suit, drawing her firearm as she stands up. Sure up to this point they had yet to encounter any resistance but it was her self proclaimed duty to watch over her twin and she was not in the habit of taking chances based on initial appearances. She moved silently across the stone work, poised to open fire on anything that could be perceived as a threat, keeping an eye out for their charge while heeding the pounding inside her mind. After ensuring that their was no immediate signs of danger, Rook left the steps and moved in the direction of the pulse, feeling it strengthen as she drew closer to the slumped figure next to the stone. It was a pathetic sight that conjured a feeling of disgust as she gazed upon it and it brought a feeling of confusion and concern to see the Blade that Should Not Be clutched by this weak child. Despite her repulsion to this foul creature, Rook was obligated to find something to cover the child, it was the thing thread that connected them here and to allow it to fray in cool weather was unacceptable. Looking to her sister, Rook quietly spoke "We should find a more suitable place for this thing to rest, being out in the open like this is an open invitation for conflict. Please also refrain from playing with this one, I understand you have needs but it should go without saying that this being is off limits to the three of us."

[Desril]

Kestal

Something was off. She didn't quite understand it, but where her siblings seemed to struggle with the confines of a mortal body, they seemed almost...natural to her. It was almost as if this was her natural state, but that couldn't be right. Her memory was foggy, but there was something...like a dream half-forgotten already...a sister? Not the one beside her now, but another, from another time and place...

She shakes her head, clearing away the thought, No point in dwelling on it now, but it might be worth looking into later. Seeing the child whose life tethered their existences, and Somnis trying to eat him, she rolls her eyes. "Rook is right, we should find cover for him...but failing that," she grins devilishly, "I can think of a way to keep him warm and happy." Where her sister felt repulsion, Ketal usually felt an attraction, even if it's a purely physical one. Looking around, however, she surprises herself by being more level headed than usual. "Though it would be better if we knew what the situation around here was, and why this is all we have left and what sort of danger he might be in."

More than usual? Something to do with that dream? Why can't I remember...

[Mornings]

Part I: Oh Sleeper
The Last Progenitor

Lamashan the 31st, Moonday - 10:10 PM / AR 15003
The City of Old Korvosa
Grey District; Sepulcher Ward - Grand Cathedral of Pharasma

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Yes, mortal. Eating. Sleeping. Breathing. The implications slowly begun to settle. Freezing... The reality of the falling radioactive frost and ash of a freezing Lamashan night in Old Korvosa suddenly became all too real. Too long in this cruel world would only bring death. The night was no exception to this - for the night was dark, and with the dark came the deathly cold -and unspeakable, nameless things.

It was not only the boy - but them as well which now stood at risk of Drejan'sila's chill fury. They could feel the remnant essence of the sentient force hang within the air - perhaps thousands of years ago when The Calamity Edge had been whole had her Calamity been unleashed upon the city - bringing the land to ruin. Now Drejan - the living conceptual force of freezing death had become as a simple entity of nature for those who dwelt here. The cold was colder - the nights were longer. Those who braved the night would freeze - like all things, to die and join her unliving scourge. Once young Drejan had been their own to command - a loyal subordinate worthy of trust. Yet now, without The Calamity Edge, they could not commune with The Calamities - they could not call out to Drejan, and the very death she spread threatened to consume them now as well, but all that mattered very little, for soon The Last Progenitor would be dead as well.

Upon nightfall (8:30 PM) an unnatural chill takes to the air. Creatures caught in the cold are at risk of freezing to death regardless if they possess a source of warmth. Creatures immune to cold are not immune to this effect. This effect is suppressed while in shelter or in an environmentally controlled space. (Magic which negates environmental effects is negated - magic which alters the environment of a space; such as creating a micro-sun/pocket dimensional space/etc - are effective in holding the supernatural cold at bay.

Eternal Rest
[All creatures must succeed a DC11 Fortitude Save - Undead Creatures must succeed a Will Save or enter a state of supernatural slumber]
[ 08:30 PM ] - The DC for this save increases by +1 for every executive minute of exposure
[ 09:30 PM ] - The DC for this save increases by +3 for every executive minute of exposure
[ 10:30 PM ] - The DC for this save increases by +9 for every executive minute of exposure
[ 11:30 PM ] - The DC for this save increases by +18 for every executive minute of exposure
[ 12:00 PM ] - The DC for this save increases by +54 for every executive minute of exposure

(Penalties)
1st Failed Save: Creature is Fatigued, takes 1d4 Desolation Damage & DC11 Will Save or Sleep
2nd Failed Save: Creature is Exhausted, takes 2d4 Desolation Damage & DC22 Will Save or Sleep
3rd Failed Save: Creature is Asleep, takes 2d8 Desolation Damage

(Sleep & Death)
Creatures caught in the unnatural cold fall into a deathlike sleep from which they will never wake - upon death, the creature is risen again as an unliving servant of Drejan'sila, hunting the living, dragging others into the freezing night to freeze as well, destroying whatever shelter they find.

[A creature in an area effected by this Calamity Edge is subject to the following effects each round following the round they have been incapacitated or made to sleep:]
Creature is subjected to the 'Eternal Slumber' Greater Hex with no save permitted; This status remains until Desolation Damage inflicted (if any) has been healed and the creature is no longer in an area effected by this Calamity Edge
Round 1: Creature is reduced to 0 hit points
Round 2: Creature is reduced to -1 hit points
Round 3: Creature is slain and resurrected as an undead version of itself

If Drejan had lips to smile, or tongue to laugh - she surly would have, finding great amusement in the former L'Drada's plight. The boy had come to die, and now they understood why. Already his flesh was cold as stone, nor did he stir in his frozen slumber. There was perhaps... seconds left. 18 in fact. The shudder of movement in the distance could be heard. Yet, there seemed to be much more about them on closer inspection. A light flickered to life over the large entrance to the Cathedral, a large door set in place preventing entry.

What would they do?

The Cathedral had long been in disrepair and occupied by dark entities, creatures of undeath and the worship of it. Loyal to none other then themselves - the common folk feared to tread into Grey District. Whispers spoke of the deathcult which had made it their domain and the one who led them - Known only as 'Demise'.

A formidable outsider summoned by a Progenitor during The Second Crusade. After the death of her master and the fall of Korvosa she was said to be bound to a ring once worn by the priest who had commanded her. Now from the confines of her prison she commands a fanatic group of zealous cultists as a pseudo-deity.


The ground which covers the earth of Sepulcher Ward is made of frozen earth and human remains pressed into the ground, like macabre cobblestone. Some of the bones appear loose, or made of whole skeletons...

The sound of movement in the distance can be heard, but with closer inspection so too is the source. A dog can be seen in front of the door tugging at the sleeve of some unfortunate man's shirt. He has colapsed upon the ground - perhaps the source of the shuddering noise from earlier. It looks as if the man had been overtaken by the chill of night. He wore tatters and smelled of rancid meat, splatters of dried blood covered his ragged garments - he was not armed, nor visibly carrying anything of note.

From above, in the sole lit window of the cathedral a figure could be seen standing at the window looking down at the sight below. Not an overly large figure, and with a slim frame. The humanoid creature moved away, the shadow cast, vanishing from view - someone was home & they knew they had guests.

[Morbis Meh]

Rook looks to her sibling concentrates for a brief moment, just long enough to bend time to her will, she gently grabs one arm of the child and begins to drag him quickly to the safety of the cathedral. Her siblings could follow her on their own time this was a more pressing matter for all of them and once the boy was inside she could would have to stand over the child. Opening and closing the door quickly, Rook drags the almost lifeless corpse of the Progenitor as deep into the building as she was able before putting away her firearm and pulls out her tonfas. She did not have adequate time to look at what resided in here and it was better to be ready hence why she entered her battle stance.

1st round: Swift Action to initiate Time Skitter then use what ever actions to get into DA CHOPPER... I mean cathedral. She will holster her gun as part of one of her moves then draw her tonfas after inside. Finally she will enter the Battle Dragon Stance making her initiative +16...

[Mornings]

Part I: Oh Sleeper
The Last Progenitor

Lamashan the 31st, Moonday - 10:10 PM / AR 15003
The City of Old Korvosa
Grey District; Sepulcher Ward - Grand Cathedral of Pharasma

http://i44.photobucket.com/albums/f7/DreadfulMorning/Petrichor%20of%20an%20Endless%20Night/Text/chapter%201/Untitled_zpsj3bd5fw1.png

Upon nightfall (8:30 PM) an unnatural chill takes to the air. Creatures caught in the cold are at risk of freezing to death regardless if they possess a source of warmth. Creatures immune to cold are not immune to this effect. This effect is suppressed while in shelter or in an environmentally controlled space. (Magic which negates environmental effects is negated - magic which alters the environment of a space; such as creating a micro-sun/pocket dimensional space/etc - are effective in holding the supernatural cold at bay.

Eternal Rest
[All creatures must succeed a DC11 Fortitude Save - Undead Creatures must succeed a Will Save or enter a state of supernatural slumber]
[ 08:30 PM ] - The DC for this save increases by +1 for every executive minute of exposure
[ 09:30 PM ] - The DC for this save increases by +3 for every executive minute of exposure
[ 10:30 PM ] - The DC for this save increases by +9 for every executive minute of exposure
[ 11:30 PM ] - The DC for this save increases by +18 for every executive minute of exposure
[ 12:00 PM ] - The DC for this save increases by +54 for every executive minute of exposure

(Penalties)
1st Failed Save: Creature is Fatigued, takes 1d4 Desolation Damage & DC11 Will Save or Sleep
2nd Failed Save: Creature is Exhausted, takes 2d4 Desolation Damage & DC22 Will Save or Sleep
3rd Failed Save: Creature is Asleep, takes 2d8 Desolation Damage

(Sleep & Death)
Creatures caught in the unnatural cold fall into a deathlike sleep from which they will never wake - upon death, the creature is risen again as an unliving servant of Drejan'sila, hunting the living, dragging others into the freezing night to freeze as well, destroying whatever shelter they find.

[A creature in an area effected by this Calamity Edge is subject to the following effects each round following the round they have been incapacitated or made to sleep:]
Creature is subjected to the 'Eternal Slumber' Greater Hex with no save permitted; This status remains until Desolation Damage inflicted (if any) has been healed and the creature is no longer in an area effected by this Calamity Edge
Round 1: Creature is reduced to 0 hit points
Round 2: Creature is reduced to -1 hit points
Round 3: Creature is slain and resurrected as an undead version of itself

Within The Cathedral
Rook gathered up the frozen child as swiftly as she could dragging the boy to the ruined abbey. She staggered over the rancid spelling body of the man, up the steps and over the dog at the door who gave a sharp bark as she threw open the door and closed it behind her.

The first thing to catch her attention was the strange sweet smelling aroma, perhaps candles or incense burning within - yet all was dark inside. Glancing about as she moved further inside, she could see the stonework of the floor was broken and much like the walls, overgrown with weeds and ivy. It appeared very much outside, as it did inside, yet the temperature was drastically different - warm, almost hot. She laid the boy down upon the floor in a moss-covered patch, the color beginning to return to his features. He stirred.

She readied her melee weapons opting for another approach. She could not see well within the darkness of the lobby's vestibule. Something was in here. She couldn't see it. Couldn't hear it. But something was watching her. Lingering in the cover of darkness.

Like an echo, resounding from multiple directions a strange voice spoke out. The voice of some rasping creature. An innuman timbre that was more a hiss then sound, yet words could still be made out from the voice with no discernible direction. " These sacred halls... offer no. Sanctuary. No sanctuary. No hope... to the tainted... Submit to The Faith. Submit to death... decide. " There was no tone or pitch in the creature's voice, as if it was unfeeling or mechanical in nature - Dead. Artificial. But Rook did understand one thing however - the creature, whatever it was, knew of The Faith - The Old Faith. Even speaking such in public now was punished with extreme discrimination by The Regalia. Where exactly had they wandered?

[Morbis Meh]

Rook raises an eyebrow at the odd voice and its message but she didn't flinch nor lower her arms. "Is this how one addresses the L'Drada? I realize that our kind has been forgotten but surely those that remember can detect us and if not then I suggest you repent for your threats or I shall send you to the eternal embrace of the Mother. This one is our anchor any hostility towards it is a direct assault on our Mother and I will take a great deal of time ensuring that you beg for release from the mortal coil."

[roll0]

[NeoSeraphi]

Somnis shivers at the cold embrace around him. He starts to feel sleepy again, but not the good kind of sleepy where he could lie down and nap for twenty years or so. This was a bad kind of sleepy. Steeling his resolve, the young man joins his sister in the cathedral. "Hi, by the way. You're looking about as rash and loud as I always thought you would with a mortal form. Though to be honest, I never thought you'd be a woman. More like a hydra or something else with sharp teeth." He chuckles at his own joke, though the voice inside disturbed him.

Turning around, Somnis blinks. "Is someone there? Hello?" He steps forward. "Please, my sister and I are not here to hurt you! We have only come to this cathedral seeking one thing...Do you have any snacks?"

The man's temperament is...slightly grating, but Rook would be surprised to see him acting this way. The sibling she remembered was an angry spirit of violence, someone who was willing to throw his divine weight around to get whatever he needed done done. He was acting like a tenderfoot right now.

[Mornings]

Part I: Oh Sleeper
The Last Progenitor

Lamashan the 31st, Moonday - 10:12 PM / AR 15003
The City of Old Korvosa
Grey District; Sepulcher Ward - Grand Cathedral of Pharasma

http://i44.photobucket.com/albums/f7/DreadfulMorning/Petrichor%20of%20an%20Endless%20Night/Text/chapter%201/Untitled_zpsj3bd5fw1.png

Upon nightfall (8:30 PM) an unnatural chill takes to the air. Creatures caught in the cold are at risk of freezing to death regardless if they possess a source of warmth. Creatures immune to cold are not immune to this effect. This effect is suppressed while in shelter or in an environmentally controlled space. (Magic which negates environmental effects is negated - magic which alters the environment of a space; such as creating a micro-sun/pocket dimensional space/etc - are effective in holding the supernatural cold at bay.

Eternal Rest
[All creatures must succeed a DC11 Fortitude Save - Undead Creatures must succeed a Will Save or enter a state of supernatural slumber]
[ 08:30 PM ] - The DC for this save increases by +1 for every executive minute of exposure
[ 09:30 PM ] - The DC for this save increases by +3 for every executive minute of exposure
[ 10:30 PM ] - The DC for this save increases by +9 for every executive minute of exposure
[ 11:30 PM ] - The DC for this save increases by +18 for every executive minute of exposure
[ 12:00 PM ] - The DC for this save increases by +54 for every executive minute of exposure

(Penalties)
1st Failed Save: Creature is Fatigued, takes 1d4 Desolation Damage & DC11 Will Save or Sleep
2nd Failed Save: Creature is Exhausted, takes 2d4 Desolation Damage & DC22 Will Save or Sleep
3rd Failed Save: Creature is Asleep, takes 2d8 Desolation Damage

(Sleep & Death)
Creatures caught in the unnatural cold fall into a deathlike sleep from which they will never wake - upon death, the creature is risen again as an unliving servant of Drejan'sila, hunting the living, dragging others into the freezing night to freeze as well, destroying whatever shelter they find.

[A creature in an area effected by this Calamity Edge is subject to the following effects each round following the round they have been incapacitated or made to sleep:]
Creature is subjected to the 'Eternal Slumber' Greater Hex with no save permitted; This status remains until Desolation Damage inflicted (if any) has been healed and the creature is no longer in an area effected by this Calamity Edge
Round 1: Creature is reduced to 0 hit points
Round 2: Creature is reduced to -1 hit points
Round 3: Creature is slain and resurrected as an undead version of itself

Within The Cathedral The skittering clatter of light-footed steps echoed through the chamber, then faded away. Whatever, whoever, had been with them had turned away and left the fallen gods alone at the fierce L'Drada's words. Perhaps it had been frightened off by the prospect of the deity's return. It was impossible to know... There was silence for a time.

Two minutes of silence, the boy stirred as if accosted by some unseen force, yet he did not wake. It quickly became evident, Drejan'Sila herself had taken to the boy - an unfortunate fate for most. The frozen immortal did not oft take interest in mortals, but those which did she claimed - whispering over the world a thousand curses, that they may join her in sleep eternal. He would not die, yet. But he would not wake. Should they brave the night, the boy would die instantly. Were it not for this fleshy prison, they could simply rip Drejan's greedy claws from the child, but now she was far beyond their influence.. no more then a concept which once had form. If only the Calamity Edge were whole... A whisper like wind tickled their ears, blowing across the expanse of the stone chamber. A voice. " Ah, so it is true. The shamed L'Drada have returned... Far too late. Far too late. The world now left fearless of The Mother, wielding that which they do not understand. Tainted. Where were The L'Drada when the world was left rotting? Where were the L'Drada when their loyal servants prayed? Oh, within their hole. Dark, so dark... and now all those that loved them are gone. Such a pity. Hensa's dejected Children, your time has passed. It was not by the will of The House of Black which you've been granted your freedom. Your.. second wind."

"The meddling of your Progenitor, and his ilk in their last moments released The Revelry of Death from this world. How they bested The Lady Light and her maddened zealots is lost with them. Revelry's death. Revelry's ascension, has freed you. A matter of causality by the hands of dead children, nothing more. The Mother of The Black Veil has covered her face in shame at your failure, and relinquished her charge to her sister. But now here you are... I wonder, will your sorry lot reclaim the honor of your House? Purge the world of this blight? ...If it were The L'Drada before me, then perhaps I would believe such to be true. To be imminent as the passing of hours, but this... You. I do not know you. Mortals? Fleshy creatures who could not even defend their Progenitor from their own servant. Such is a sad sight, perhaps better is it that you fade from this world, that none may lay eyes upon your sorry sight and remember The L'Drada as they were... "

The blood froze in their veins as the voice wordlessly, silently, entered their divine consciousness. There was no magic, there was no energy which flowed unto the existence of the prime material plane. Indeed, the words had been more of a test, to verify they were who they said. The Far Speak of The L'Arthyik Yila, was identical omniscient ears of their divinity they retained from their past lives. Though they could not speak on such a level, they could still hear it. The L'Drada, were only a group of lesser deities created by Hensa to bring ruin to a bloated multiverse upon collapse... The L'Arthyik Yila, Children of Hensa's sister, Maythalin were deities which constructed the natural forces of the world... The animalistic, often furry eared physical aspects they would take reflected their connection with the creatures of the natural world, ruling over the children of the forests, the Fey-like creatures known as The Yila. The sudden recollection came to them all at once, as if they had forgotten... how much else had they forgotten? The memories were all drained and empty, as if so much had been lost, yet the voice was familiar. Yes.. they knew this voice. Fond memories... The name danced in the back of their minds, ever elusive. The L'Arthyik were named and spoke in Godspeak, a language they did not understand, a sacred tongue spoke by The Mothers and their Children. Perhaps it would be lost forever - but at the voice's prodding, a memory returned.

The Black Tempest, that was not her name... but it was a title the L'Drada oft used. Goddess of wind, torrents, war and the wrath of sky. They had fought together many times... a good friend in times past. She was wild and fearsome, now they met once again. It was often difficult to gather the meaning of her words, as her actions could often betray those intentions - never showing kindness nor sympathy outwardly, instead holding to her rough and boisterous personality. If there was one who knew how to contest Drejan's influence, it was her.

The chamber remained quiet and empty.

[Morbis Meh]

Rook turns to her brother and sighs "Is it just me or do eternal entities just get wordier and wordier as time moves onward? Did they compose these speeches patiently waiting for the moment to use them? I wonder why they have so much animosity towards our Mother.... Maybe she was cheap on the first Hogwatch and gave her siblings a dictionary and now they are using it against us? It would seem our immediate attention needs to be focused on this rather pathetic display of meat since it is our anchor to this plane and he has already began courting the wrong over deity. So it would fall upon us to contact our long forgotten ally... It would be wise for each of us to make this attempt to try to find a method of saving this being and once it has been secured I plan on never letting it forget its stupidity. With the relative knowledge that the room was somewhat secure, the L'Drada of envy calmly holstered her weapons and positioned herself in a way that would allow her to comfortably meditate.

[roll0] vs DC 15

[NeoSeraphi]

Somnis frowns at Rook's mention of finding a way to save the boy. "Aw, come on, sis, that sounds like a lot of work. Why not just let the kid freeze solid? He can't die if he's an icicle. Here, let me put him in stasis."

He closes his eyes and clasps his hands together, recalling a powerful and ancient technique that would allow him to put the boy in a state of eternal slumber. "Alessi oram yak thol tivar. Ish korra thol mirak sothan!" He spreads his hands out dramatically. And...nothing happens.

Somnis blinks. He pokes the kid a moment. "Um...wait, how am I supposed to tell if he's eternally asleep or just kind of...still napping? Um, I don't think it worked, Rook. That's weird. Aren't we supposed to be gods? We have phenomenal cosmic power and all that jazz, right?"

[Desril]

Kestal

Having followed others into the church and listened with irritation plain on her face, "We may be lessened for the time being, Tempest, but we mean to restore ourselves to power and reclaim all that was taken from us. Though if you wish to help, do so now and tell us what we can do to keep this creature safe."

The fiendish ex-goddess nods her head in the direction of her envious sister. "You're right, as much as I hate saying it, we need to keep this child protected, and that means we need help," she says with a devious grin on her face as she looks toward him, licking her lips. "But you know my ritual requires a partner, and takes a little more time than yours, dear sister."

Having her partner already in mind, she waits for a response from the Black Tempest before quickly moving to commune using the boy as her ritual.


Fade to black on the kid for 10 minutes if no one stops her; Communion DC 20 to hopefully get some answers and a kickass spell [roll0]

[Mornings]

Part I: Oh Sleeper
The Last Progenitor

Lamashan the 31st, Moonday - 10:13 PM / AR 15003
The City of Old Korvosa
Grey District; Sepulcher Ward - Grand Cathedral of Pharasma

http://i44.photobucket.com/albums/f7/DreadfulMorning/Petrichor%20of%20an%20Endless%20Night/Text/chapter%201/Untitled_zpsj3bd5fw1.png

Upon nightfall (8:30 PM) an unnatural chill takes to the air. Creatures caught in the cold are at risk of freezing to death regardless if they possess a source of warmth. Creatures immune to cold are not immune to this effect. This effect is suppressed while in shelter or in an environmentally controlled space. (Magic which negates environmental effects is negated - magic which alters the environment of a space; such as creating a micro-sun/pocket dimensional space/etc - are effective in holding the supernatural cold at bay.

Eternal Rest
[All creatures must succeed a DC11 Fortitude Save - Undead Creatures must succeed a Will Save or enter a state of supernatural slumber]
[ 08:30 PM ] - The DC for this save increases by +1 for every executive minute of exposure
[ 09:30 PM ] - The DC for this save increases by +3 for every executive minute of exposure
[ 10:30 PM ] - The DC for this save increases by +9 for every executive minute of exposure
[ 11:30 PM ] - The DC for this save increases by +18 for every executive minute of exposure
[ 12:00 PM ] - The DC for this save increases by +54 for every executive minute of exposure

(Penalties)
1st Failed Save: Creature is Fatigued, takes 1d4 Desolation Damage & DC11 Will Save or Sleep
2nd Failed Save: Creature is Exhausted, takes 2d4 Desolation Damage & DC22 Will Save or Sleep
3rd Failed Save: Creature is Asleep, takes 2d8 Desolation Damage

(Sleep & Death)
Creatures caught in the unnatural cold fall into a deathlike sleep from which they will never wake - upon death, the creature is risen again as an unliving servant of Drejan'sila, hunting the living, dragging others into the freezing night to freeze as well, destroying whatever shelter they find.

[A creature in an area effected by this Calamity Edge is subject to the following effects each round following the round they have been incapacitated or made to sleep:]
Creature is subjected to the 'Eternal Slumber' Greater Hex with no save permitted; This status remains until Desolation Damage inflicted (if any) has been healed and the creature is no longer in an area effected by this Calamity Edge
Round 1: Creature is reduced to 0 hit points
Round 2: Creature is reduced to -1 hit points
Round 3: Creature is slain and resurrected as an undead version of itself

Within The Cathedral No responce came to humor the side-long comments, as if their voices were far to meek to be carried to The Black Tempest's ears. Indeed, perhaps such was the case now - the voices of their fleshy prisons were perhaps something conceivably less then the sound of an ant's footsteps. A sound far too insignificant to even warrant thought of its existence. Such was their fate. There existed but only one way to be heard in kind...

The communion required a minute of uninterrupted focus, with hope and perhaps luck that their divine spirits would perhaps reach The Burning Tide, the strange and alien realm of Hensa's sister. Rook's focus ended abruptly with a bludgeoning jolt through her consciousness, as if struck with some metaphysical rock, cast by an unseen hand. Mischievous laughter. "...Really? Is that the best you can muster, Envy? Or have you no voice with which to speak? Look at your sister, can you not at least display her degree of effort? " The Lustful sister had set upon the boy, stripping him down though left cold and unresponsive in his comatose state.

[FONT=Book Antiqua]
Lamashan the 31st, Moonday - 10:23 PM / AR 15003
The City of Old Korvosa
Grey District; Sepulcher Ward - Grand Cathedral of Pharasma

Her perverse ritual upon the boys body lasted 10 minutes. Though as if handling some lifeless puppet, the divine spark within her breast ignited. A surge of tumultuous energy surged within from some foreign plane. " ...It seems at least one of you still possess some merit to your name. Your useless frost-witch will claim The Progenitor within the hour. These children never learn. " The last comment struck Kestal, as if it was some off-hand catch phrase, L'Kor'inth far too often spoke it in excess... Her name. The memories returned to them. The L'Athyik Yila was one of Ser's many children, blessed with divinity and given new and terrible purpose by The Auroral Archon - creating a mischievous goddess, as where all or many of their kind. The Yila rarely listened to the word or council of Maythalin, heeding only the absolute commands of their wild mother. The communion was complete.

[Desril]

Kestal

Moaning in ecstasy, she continues to gyrate her hips until the communion is complete. The boy was unresponsive, but he was young, and his body did what nature demanded of it even if his mind was absent. A pity he wasn't awake...I do so love the faces of virgins.

Continuing her ministrations on the boy's body, Kestal calls out to L'Kor'inth, "Ah, finally. L'Kor'inth, we could use your aid. As you can see, we've returned but in a less than desirable fashion. We need to keep the Progenitor alive, but we're at a loss on how to do so. Helping us now would in-debt us to you when our power returns in full."

[Mornings]

Part I: Oh Sleeper
The Last Progenitor

Lamashan the 31st, Moonday - 10:13 PM / AR 15003
The City of Old Korvosa
Grey District; Sepulcher Ward - Grand Cathedral of Pharasma

http://i44.photobucket.com/albums/f7/DreadfulMorning/Petrichor%20of%20an%20Endless%20Night/Text/chapter%201/Untitled_zpsj3bd5fw1.png

Upon nightfall (8:30 PM) an unnatural chill takes to the air. Creatures caught in the cold are at risk of freezing to death regardless if they possess a source of warmth. Creatures immune to cold are not immune to this effect. This effect is suppressed while in shelter or in an environmentally controlled space. (Magic which negates environmental effects is negated - magic which alters the environment of a space; such as creating a micro-sun/pocket dimensional space/etc - are effective in holding the supernatural cold at bay.

Eternal Rest
[All creatures must succeed a DC11 Fortitude Save - Undead Creatures must succeed a Will Save or enter a state of supernatural slumber]
[ 08:30 PM ] - The DC for this save increases by +1 for every executive minute of exposure
[ 09:30 PM ] - The DC for this save increases by +3 for every executive minute of exposure
[ 10:30 PM ] - The DC for this save increases by +9 for every executive minute of exposure
[ 11:30 PM ] - The DC for this save increases by +18 for every executive minute of exposure
[ 12:00 PM ] - The DC for this save increases by +54 for every executive minute of exposure

(Penalties)
1st Failed Save: Creature is Fatigued, takes 1d4 Desolation Damage & DC11 Will Save or Sleep
2nd Failed Save: Creature is Exhausted, takes 2d4 Desolation Damage & DC22 Will Save or Sleep
3rd Failed Save: Creature is Asleep, takes 2d8 Desolation Damage

(Sleep & Death)
Creatures caught in the unnatural cold fall into a deathlike sleep from which they will never wake - upon death, the creature is risen again as an unliving servant of Drejan'sila, hunting the living, dragging others into the freezing night to freeze as well, destroying whatever shelter they find.

[A creature in an area effected by this Calamity Edge is subject to the following effects each round following the round they have been incapacitated or made to sleep:]
Creature is subjected to the 'Eternal Slumber' Greater Hex with no save permitted; This status remains until Desolation Damage inflicted (if any) has been healed and the creature is no longer in an area effected by this Calamity Edge
Round 1: Creature is reduced to 0 hit points
Round 2: Creature is reduced to -1 hit points
Round 3: Creature is slain and resurrected as an undead version of itself

Within The CathedralThe communion had been completed some time passed, yet the devilish waited letting the lustful creature continue. Watching with some amusement. "...Always the 'appetite'. It is most unfortunate you've fallen to such a petty state, perhaps you'd reward me for aiding you in another way - when you've been restored. " The darkness seemed to turn and twist, as if the distant light from the night sky had altered its angle as it seeped into the dark reception hall of the seemingly abandoned cathedral. The slightly darker silhouette of what might have been the amorphous outline of a figure manifested - suspended in the air above them. Like a shadow being cast by upon a wall by dim candlelight. "...Drejan'sila has no form in this lowly realm. Thus she cannot receive your commands. It is a simple matter of meeting that gluttonous creature where she may hear you... Within the world of dreams."

" You've lost seemingly all of your divine substance - once before this would have been nothing more than a simple thought... This time, I will restore a measure of your strength. However, in the future - I will expect compensation. " The shadow gestured at them with a hand before vanishing from the realm of mortals. A dark geyser of shadow sprung out from each of them, before rupturing forth in a strange semi-tangible translucent wave which seemed to bend the world about them as if they had been submerged in water. Then the strange phenomenon passed. A fraction of their divinity had been returned... A familiar power; The Cloister of Consciousness " Enter The Progenitor's dreams and reclaim command of Drejan'sila. I've aided you, now go and be useful. "

The Cloister of Consciousness formed the foundation of The L'Drada's interaction with the mortal world. They did not interact with mortals by touching upon the physical world. The Cloister of Consciousness extended as, essentially, their 'senses' within the material plane. Corrupting the minds, spirits and dreams of the mortal creatures - the concepts of their existence came into fruition. Their sight, smell, feel, and taste - was The Cloisters. Now they had but a fraction of the four. They had regained a part of their sight... The Consciousness. It would take great work to reclaim this power in full...

Consciousness: Visionmaker I
Within each creatures mind existed another world, defined by one. A maze, a labyrinth, that when unraveled commanded absolute control. A power they had once used, but now it was far beyond them - at this stage, they could only enter the maze. The subconscious, the world of dreams....

Entering a Dream:
The L'Drada can spend 1 minute in communion while within 5ft of a sleeping target. Succeeding a Divinity Check (Using 1/2th Divinity Score as your Modifier for this Check-Rounded down) Vs Double targets HD as the DC.

[NeoSeraphi]

Somnis yawns. "Entering dreams? Sounds good to me. I could use a nap after all that work I did waking up." He stretches lazily and sits down next to the sleeping boy, closing his eyes and concentrating. If anyone could enter a dream world, it would be the Demigod of Slumber.

Communion check: [roll0]
Longer post once I get details about the inside of the dream, I swear!

[Morbis Meh]

Rook sighs as Sommis begins dozing off, though it was warranted, dreams were usually his domain but he couldn't be trusted to actually rouse when needed, someone would probably have to go in there to keep an eye on him. Rook would have to stay behind, someone had to remain vigilant they were certainly not safe here and if the three of them went under it would leave them quite vulnerable.

"Kestal, go with brother, without proper supervision he will stray. I will watch over the two of you while you're in the dream, also try not to harm the boy any more than you already have."

[Desril]

Kestal

Bringing the boy to another release as her sister talks, she smiles. "Aw, you know I haven't harmed him, he was just too tempting to resist. Still, you have a point, Rook can't be trusted to do anything alone if we want it done in this lifetime." Winking at her sister, "Do have fun with us while we're away though, I'd hate the thought of leaving you here bored and alone."

Slowing her movements, she lays down atop the boy, but even in her efforts to fall asleep, her body doesn't actually cease its gyrations entirely.


Communion check [roll0]

I'll get divinity powers in a bit