The Primeval Dark (IC)

[forg99rules]

She still wasn't sure that she understood what Ghlas was, but she did know that it was causing even more problems. The information the Hexe had given her regarding the abilities she had asked about was useful, and she knew she would surely try and talk to Bohka regarding the Terminating Prescience as she had felt that it could be a potent skill. As the Hexe mentioned the Scion of Dark Seasons, she felt her blood run cold. Her mind turned back a bit to what had brought her into the inverse, the being who had been forcing her to serve it against her will. There was no doubt in her mind that she would suffer some consequences if she came before the Scion again. Hearing the name of Adessa caught her attention again, bringing her back to the present and out of her memories. Hearing that Adess was speaking with the Dark Teller made her wonder if she perhaps would get a chance herself to talk with the being. "There might be a slight issue if I have to speak with the Scion. I might have angered the Scion; she had forced me to be the Keeper of the Dark Spire against my will. Then there was a ring with someone called P'yii who was stuck in the ring. After I accidentally released P'yii, I suddenly found myself in the Inverse. I have yet to find a way out of the Inverse, though I figured that I might as well use it to train while I searched for a way back."

[Deadguy]

Regina
Ghost in the Machine

The red-haired woman stared up into the sky was a blank face. "Of course..." It was less of a response to the priest's statement, and more a consignment to the expectation of such strangeness. Is it even worth the effort of asking... No. He's blind, better to not even bring it up.

She reached out and accepted the offered hand. Despite the resignation to the sky titan's existence, her mind still attempted to process and catalog the sight. There was a desire to ask her would-be escort where they were going and why and how, but without options to weigh that information against, it seemed a wasted effort. She would take things as they were and as they come. It was the only way to survive.

Spoiler: OOC

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Knowledge (Religion) vs Sky Titans (1d20+17)[27]

[Mornings]

Like absurd overlords of the gray and faded world, the otherworldly colossal entities continued their heated discussion. Pointing and bickering over this unimaginable thing or the next. It was impossible to tell. Regina had never heard of 'The Far Place', or any such additional realms of the 'dead' beyond the scope of the Outer-sphere. Yet, here she was. It would have been simple to dismiss the locale as some branch or variation of the Boneyard, seeing
as how fitting the tended graves appeared to be. The final evidence to contest the notion however, were indeed those great beings, mutely ruling from the skies above. There existed no such reference within her database detailing any similar circumstances, either in faith, or in mystic archives. This was simply, unexplored territory. Perhaps she was even one of the first surviving mortals aside from Mr. Penfrist to have come this way. Though at the very least, she was sure that these creatures were no 'judge' for the deceased. Rather, they seemed embroiled in their own dispute with little care for the individual spirits populating the planes so far below. [Regina | Knowledge (Religion) - Failure]

Father Mortfield took her hand as he directed her face downward toward the snow. "Ms. Artel, whatever you do... You must not raise your head." Hurriedly, he turned about pulling her after him as he ascended the stairs. The old wizard was now gone. Blinked out unnoticeably from existence. An act lacking the typical fanfare of usual magician antics. Stopping before the massive marble passage of the sealed double doors before them, he moved Regina behind himself with a gesture of his arm; as if to stand between her and the massive structure. ""I, Father Vaince Mortfield, Guide to the deceased.... Request passage."" As if in response, a sudden echoing clatter begun to rise about them, like the rattle of bones, or the beating of wooden beads. It grew in volume, until it surrounded the structure, reaching an uncomfortable pitch. Then... Silence.

Regina felt her body go rigid. A supernatural cold begun to freeze over the exterior of the sculpted marble surface. It wasn't enough to be deadly to a living creature, but it was enough to deal physical harm. In surprise, she watched the tips of her fingers begun to blacken from the sudden aura of frost, stealing a measure of her dexterity and sense of feeling. It shouldn't have been possible... Yet again, more surprises to flip her world upsid- [Regina | 1 point Divine Cold Damage - Requires Divine Spark/Divine Trait to Resist]

The thought was abruptly interrupted by the shattering sense of dread which filled her, as some freakish spectral shroud manifested into reality. Too large to be called a 'thing', it was like an eerie veil had descended upon the world, or they had skirted along the ends of some wraith-god's skirt. The rattling spoke with a hundred small voices. "The Price." Keeping his own head bowed, the priest extended his hand. From on high, far above, a massive crooked finger lowered. Nails as long as ships. A digit the girth of a castle's spire. Pale and translucent green. When the clergyman touched the thing, a small spark left him. Regina dared not lift her gaze, something instinctual demanded she avert her gaze. Then just as suddenly, the great thing was gone. [Status | A Nightmare Overwhelming (Su): Dream-creatures in the presence of the Nightmare feel an innate sense of fear. Those who avert their gaze are shaken (no save) for 1 round. Dream-creatures have no resistance to this effect. If the dream-creature negates this fear-effect via other means, it is moved down one existential phase (no save). Dream-creatures who dare look upon the Nightmare directly are utterly destroyed (DC 63 fortitude save to resist), or suffer 40d8 divine cold damage upon success.]

The world sharply blurred. Bending. Distorted. Then suddenly was made right once again, like the skipping of a record. Static in the real. The unnatural cold has departed, and instead they found themselves surrounded by more graves. Older stones. The mist was thick, but the sight of unusual white long-legged ghasts came into sight. They were like strange tadpole creatures, with walking limbs like stilts. Without mouths or arms, they weightlessly drifted by like alien ghosts.

Spoiler: Critical Note: Forbidden Knowledge

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Knowledge (Forbidden) is one of the most useful unique skills in the game, but also the absolute most dangerous ability a player character can utilize when performed outside of a very specific set of conditions, including the aid of numerous Potentials. Each time a PC attempts to utilize this skill without the protective features of other Potentials, they run a chance of acquiring a 'Corrupted Fate'. These conditions are a form of Curse which can potentially bestow numerous profane and crippling effects, but will in addition alter all quests and objectives the character possesses and can receive - permanently. The effects of a Corrupted Fate can be resolved by discovering and accomplishing the unique conditions associated with it. These conditions are always extremely severe, and may require an entire campaign-length undertaking to complete; stealing precious time which could be spent on other objectives.

Regardless of the result of the %dice in determining if such a status is received, the character receives a number of points of Spite, and possesses a very high chance of incurring a Divergence or critical alteration, which may impose its own unique consequences, depending on the circumstances. The percent of such events occurring caps at 100% upon the third use. A character may only utilize Knowledge (Forbidden) unprotected three times throughout the entity of the game. Upon exceeding this number of uses, the current character is immediately slain after the skill's resolution. This ability kills all iterations of a character simultaneously, but is specific to the identity which activated the ability and does not extend past Reflected Personas. This effect cannot be prevented by any source. Slain character's cannot be returned to life, including from such Potentials as Lesser Immortality.

Spoiler: Status

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֍ Regina +800 (25,600xp)
HP 53/53
AC 19
⯎ Nobility Influence Gained
⯎ Deception Influence Gained
⯎ Trickery Influence Gained
⯎ Discovery Influence Gained
⯎ Magic Influence Gained
⯎ Secrets Influence Gained
⯎ Knowledge Influence Gained
⯎ Truth Influence Gained
⯎ Tapestry Influence Gained
⯎ Time Influence Gained
⯎ Dimensions Influence Gained
⯎ Fate Influence Gained
⯎ Vision Influence Gained
⯎ Light Influence Gained
⯎ Stability Influence Gained
⯎ Cold Influence Gained
⯎ Worlds Influence Gained
⯎ Death Influence Gained
⯎ Black Influence Gained
⯎ Red Influence Gained
⯎ Reflections Influence Gained
⯎ Darkness Influence Gained
⯎ Stars Influence Gained
⯎ Reality Influence Gained
⯎ Nuisance Influence Gained
⯎ Seeker Influence Gained
⯎ Forbidden Influence Gained
⯎ Planes Influence Gained
⯎ Delusion Influence Gained
⯎ Omens Influence Gained
⯎ Wandering Influence Gained
⯎ Stranded Influence Gained
⯎ Worlds Influence Gained
⯎ Real Influence Gained
⯎ Stranded Influence Gained
⯎ Ghosts Influence Gained
⯎ Entities Influence Gained
⯎ Passage Influence Gained

[Deadguy]

Regina
Ghost in the Machine

It had been years since she had experienced such things. The bite of cold. The dread. Her mechanical body was all but immune to experiencing such things in the Prime. This was not the Prime. These beings were not within the realm of understanding. It bothered her. Made her feel weak, unsure, uneducated. Regina hadn't felt that way since her sister had begun wasting away after she had Awakened.

"Dare I ask what was above, or the price?" She could not help but express the bitterness she felt in her tone. "Is this another unknowable place?"

Even as she spoke, her eyes scanned the surroundings, taking in the stones and the creatures. Cataloging details, retrieving information. Her emotions began to calm, until a wry smirk formed. These things. Were they unknowable, or simply unknown? There was a rhyme and reason, some connection. A centralized thread that held things together. Law to balance the chaos. She had already met a light to balance the darkness of the asylum. Such things existed, they were just not known. Not yet.

Spoiler: OOC

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Perception vs surroundings (1d20+22)[29]
Knowledge (Planes) vs teleport (1d20+22)[27]
Knowledge (Religion) vs ghasts (1d20+17)[20]

[Chromascope3D]

Kazik
The Hanging Men

Like steel scraping across steel, the horrid laugh ripped through Kazik's ears, burrowing deep under his skull and the grey matter that lay beneath. His vision swam, and he saw little but color and noise. the stench around him, horrid and raw, flushed his nostrils and he could do little but buck under its enormity. It awakened something in him. Already it had been lingering, just under the surface, but now it threatened to take over, take all reason from him. Flanked by two terrible beings, he almost forgot his encounter with the nightmare beast, and gripped began gripping tightly his scourge. He began to chuckle, surely it must be time for battle, but, looking over at his companion for approval, he was shocked to find no man there at all. Where did the knight go?

His mind wasn't equipped to handle the sensations as he glanced about furiously, but finally he caught glimpse of the man again, vanishing through the black gate. Kazik clicked his tongue in annoyance, and then rage. What did he know that Kazik did not? Was the knight thinking to leave him here alone, and keep what lay beyond all to himself? Hah, no, not today. He glanced once more at the towering creatures, weighing his options. But ah, so frustrated was he now! Fine, so be it.

He followed the knight through the door.

Spoiler: Stats

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Kazik
Human Sentinel (Darkness Defender) LN
Scorn 14
Focus Points: 10/10
Reserve Points 5/5
Martial Focus Yes
HP 92 / 92 [13 nonlethal] Speed ft Init 8 AC 22 Fort 10 Ref 9 Will 8 [2] CMB +10 BAB 5 +1 Chain Whip +13 (+11) (1d3+8 (1d3+12) {+10}, x2)
Throwing Knives +12 (1d4+2, x2)
Dagger +12 (+10) (1d4+2, 19-20/x2) Str 20 (5) Dex 24 (7) Con 16 (3) Wis 16 (3) [5 (-3)]Int 14 (2) Cha 9 (-1)
Boons
Martial Focus

Conditions

[Mornings]

---

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421st Day of the 1st Cycle - Time: 9th Bell / LC: 30,303
Jun'athel; L'Chandal - The Crucible
????????; ???????

There was a long and awkward pause. The Hexe seemed frozen in place, still gesturing at the exit, blankly looking at Alicia. Slowly, she lowered her arm, but she didn't speak. The silence lasted for an uncomfortably long time. Her gaze unbroken. Unblinking. The Witch's face may as well have been a plaster mask as it was impossible to read her expressionless features. After a moment, the lower eyelid of one eye winced. "....I see." Stella was certain if the Keeper were not already responsible for dealing with her mess, the eerie woman would have grabbed her by the face and thrown her through reality.

"Part slave. Part prisoner. Part priest. A Keeper... of Nothing. The burden of... the Spire. Is great. The Scion is... fickle. But it is.... also akin... To being wed. To the goddess. Bohka has... Sought the honor. Since long... before the War. Before the March. Yet... She offered it. To you. A life bound... But in. The old ways. There is... No greater honor. No Vet'Cnros... Has ever refused. She is. Your ancestral patron... Yet, you spurned her. I am sure... She was. Very surprised. This... humiliation. Will not be... easily forgiven." The Witch reached out and plucked Alicia out of the air, dragging her back into the center of the room as the portal sharply closed. Throwing her into a seat, she crossed her arms, looking down upon her with evident irritation.

"Untrusted... By your House. Hated... by. Your native patron. Resented... by. The ancestors, you shame. Hunted... By. The House... Of. The Blessed Mother. Banished... now too? A true... Daughter of Kerym. Now I know... You laugh. At Olthus. You cannot win... alone, child. Tell me. How many more... enemies. Have you made? Tell me. Do you even... have, any allies?"

---

Global Quest: The Cleft of Five Worlds, Part 1: The Black Harvest (Quest Lost)
The Source has bled into the World Veil. The long term consequences of Stella's meddling have created a corruption strong enough to compel the origin of all energy within the multiverse. Together with the Shadow Bohka, the Witches of the Black begun to congregate upon the isolated universe. Gone are the petty qualms of the Che'el Talthelra. Countless forces begin to descend upon the unsuspecting world for their own ends, driven by greed at the unprecedented opportunity. The Black Magister entered a race against time to find a solution, before the Whispering Witch created her own.
Difficulty: Legendary | Status: On-going | Profit: Unknown | Time: Unknown
Primary Objective:
- Meet the Shadow Bohka

---

Main Quest: The Wild Dark - Dreaming, The Nightmare King (Quest Lost)
A narrow escape from the plotting of the House of the First has only revealed an infighting between the L'Dalharen, with Alicia in the center of the conflict. Sentenced unto servitude, the Witch of Jun'athel now guides them forward unto the unknown to seek audience with the Nightmare King.
Difficulty: Moderate | Status: On-going | Profit: Unknown | Time: None
Primary Objective:
- Acquire Arborization
- Depart L'Chandal
- Escort The Keeper, Gran Hexe B'Belka'tevel

---

Main Quest: At The Gates of Sleep (Quest Lost)
Gran Hexe B'Belka'Tevel, finding Stella's actions as the root cause for the corruption seeping into the Veil of Jun'athel, has charged her with a monumental task. The preservation of the Veil and its hosts. Now nominated as a Servant-Herald, there was no other choice left before her but putting an end to the chaos her presence had ushered, once and for all.
Difficulty: Moderate | Status: On-going | Profit: Unknown | Time: None
Primary Objective:
- Construct Wussrun'Khel Avatar
- Enter the World Veil

---

Spoiler: Rewards | EXP

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֍ Stella XP +400 (185,800xp)
⯎ Sovereignty Influence Gained
⯎ Nobility Influence Gained
⯎ Liberation Influence Gained
⯎ Community Influence Gained
⯎ Discovery Influence Gained
⯎ Travel Influence Gained
⯎ Wisdom Influence Gained
⯎ Occult Influence Gained
⯎ Veil Influence Gained
⯎ Evil Influence Gained
⯎ Nightmare Influence Gained
⯎ Curse Influence Gained
⯎ Defense Influence Gained
⯎ Justice Influence Gained
⯎ Memory Influence Gained
⯎ Worlds Influence Gained
⯎ Fate Influence Gained
⯎ Time Influence Gained
⯎ Faith Influence Gained
⯎ Ascension Influence Gained
⯎ Guilt Influence Gained
⯎ Hated Influence Gained
⯎ Subservient Influence Gained
⯎ Transcendent Influence Gained
⯎ Apprentice Influence Gained
⯎ Duty Influence Gained
⯎ Servitude Influence Gained
⯎ Dreams Influence Gained
⯎ Ancestors Influence Gained
⯎ Origin Influence Gained
⯎ Divinity Influence Gained
⯎ Dreamworlds Influence Gained
⯎ Acquired [Strange Item]
✦ Corrupted Fate (Ra'Dolfaal)
⯎ Gem of Telepathy: 3/5 Charges, 3 min duration - Identified use with UMD

SpellWeaving:
Successfully casting a Spellweave costs the Witch a number of focus points equal to Spell Level + 1.
The Witch may attempt a number of Spellweaving Checks per day equal to her Aptitude.

Alicia HP: 8 (13) / 22
Istrei'D'Val Barrier: 450/450
Focus: 27/28
Mana: 1/10
Reputation: 25
Memory: 3
Spite: 1
Honor: 311
SV. Exp: 2 (Severance)
Weave Exp: 175
Veil Exp: 1,000

Spoiler: The Reflected Alter

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Praying at the alter requires a Spell Focus check and 1d8 hours of uninterrupted meditation to establish a connection with the herald. Alicia receives no way of judging the success or failure of her attempt. Cumulative penalties are applies for very 4 hours of meditation taken from loosing focus over a prologed period of time. These penalties stack with conditions accrued from other sources such as starvation or dehydration.

Spoiler: Alicia Kelgore - Conflicted Mind

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Alicia and Stella must maintain a constant state of balance to stay in harmony with one another, however doing this is not a simple task as the Veil evolves. Alicia will progressively shift in alignment as the Veil grows and the two personalities shift further and further apart from one another, prompted by various Spell Focus checks while both performing magic and having new experiences which the Veil attempts to adapt into the persona's fabricated history. Furthermore the Veil is capable of enforcing its own canonical history as if by means of a Divergence. At the beginning and end of each day both persona's must make an opposed spell focus check, granting advantage to the victor for the next 8 hours. The persona with advantage gains a +5 circumstance bonus to all other checks against the other identity. If Stella begins to fail more and more checks her control of Alicia will begin to diminish, introducing new influences or opposing actions which she must succeed an ego check to interrupt. Further effects from the Veil may be acquired from constant failed checks. This Veil may be dismissed by revisiting the mirror and spending 1 minute in meditation.

[Mornings]

---

---

Main Quest: My Father Will Guide Me Up A Ladder To The Sky
The future was bleak. Awakening from the dream, Kazik and Erik woke to find a tragic broken world. With countless memories and years lost between them, the realization of the cruelty delivered by the magics employed against them finally begins to sink in. It was a malice beyond words, and loss beyond comprehension, where not even the awareness of it was allowed to persist... Only the emptiness. The depravity of the void which had slain every passion, every dream, every inspiration and moment that could be treasured by a mortal heart. The men they had been were dead now, in perhaps a far truer sense than any corpse could know. In some men's hearts burned the vengeance of the crippled and the wronged. In others rose the courage to let go. There were no easily won truths reclaimed from this blighted and wild dark. Here there were no words and no thoughts which escaped its thieving hand.
Difficulty: Easy | Status: On-going | Profit: Unknown | Time: None
Primary Objective: Return to Ashurbanipal (Complete)
Alternate Objective: Return to the Veil
Primary Objective: Find the Librarian

---

22nd of Neth, Sunday | Time: 11:26 pm | AR 4713 (Winter)
Otherworld; L'Zho-Kenna, The Betwixt
L'Izz'tssa, The Passages; Ashurbanipal - The Towers

The great beasts bellowed in horrible protest, seeming to regather their senses as Kazik sauntered by and entered the dark portal. Perhaps the mercenary had thought the Witch's sudden hostile change would also mark the end of their time to enter either door; simply snapping both entries out of existence, before setting these disgusting slime-covered aberrations upon them. It was hard to even think clearly, between the rage and confusion. His world was a teetering child's ride singing a sales-pitch for the carnival in his mind. He walked the darkness casually, perhaps he was getting too used to this. The chill beginning to crawl up his legs. It felt like he was sinking... He was sinking! Sudden realization sprung in his head, as he finally took note of the chest-deep tides lapping at his collar. Dark water. Again.

His vision shook and trembled. Vibrations and color. A world bathed in wilting light... until there was only a dead, dull gray. Gray. Lights... Lights! Sound, deafening sound came tumbling into his skull like a thousand crashing symbols and beating drums as if a pane of glass had been lifted and all the rucuss came billowing out. The roar of falling rivers, descending from countless places from the infinite span of the ceilingless chamber crashed down into the great library. Thousands of voices, yelling, screeching, shouting all manner of skittering tongue came from all about him. Kazik was pushed and tossed about by a crowd of strange unearthly creatures. More like astral manifestations, yet the transparent grayish things were tangible still. Most were covered with fur or had the faces of animals. Some simply were animals. The head of an impossibly large elk emerged from below, shoving him aside with a a horn nearly twenty feet long. Swimming, the mob carried countless totes or hauled great pallets of records interlinked like trains, others moved platforms. Some of which were stacked so high, they went off stretching into the sky.

The water 'roads' were more densely packed than any other city Kazik had ever seen or heard of. Glowing white plants and ivy lit the way and illuminated the black water's surface like beacons. Kazik could see the massive dais far off in the distance, now mostly cleared and unoccupied, the only landmark he knew in the place. They hadn't entered the same place as before... Finding a hold upon one of the great bookcase-towers to lift himself out from the bustling pathways like many others, he could more fully take in the sight before him. It was like a frantic march of countless spirits. Thousands... Hundreds of thousands that he could see at least, all bearing a load. Between the book-towers, he could see other paths, where traffic moved in the opposite direction, all lacking their cargo.

Kazik watched as his companion was spontaneously jettisoned out from a fractured black rift in reality, that came and vanished in an instant. Erik hurtled out into a heavy belly-flop into the crowd below. He landed atop a large spirit, with the fur-clad body of a man and the head of a badger. They both sank into the water, until resurfacing suddenly as the badger spirit lifted the old warrior out and threw him out of the crowded waterway in a great display of strength. An unusual creature sitting on the same ledge as the masked man burst into a cackling laughter. It was less than three feet in height, with the chubby features of a small adolescent girl the great fluffy tail of a squirrel, ears of a mouse crowning her head and patches of stripped fur. It was a race he'd never seen before. The mouse girl elbowed another spirit-creature at her side, which appeared to be nothing more than an actual overgrown bipedal mouse, pointing at the thrown man and squeaking out words he didn't understand. Both the mice exploded into another bout of laughter. After a moment, Kazik's eyes glanced at the other book-towers, noticing there were many of the various mouse and rodent-raced creatures looking down at the toiling spirits below carrying their burdens, while having none of their own.

⯎

It had been chaos from the moment he crossed the threshold of the door. His arm had ached with a piercing pain and then the darkness begun to rotate and spin. Like a whirlpool, it spiraled out of control tossing and whipping him about for so long. Then, abruptly, he crashed out from the dark and into the world. Even as he was hurtling through the air as he was thrown, his mind struggled to process which way was even up or down. He came skidding out like a wet stone with a dull clatter as he landed on the ledge of one of the massive towers which housed books. His senses were rocking, his mind hammering with belligerent pain. He turned over just as he expelled another spray of black goo from his mouth. Eyes quickly scanning, he quickly took measure of his environment, though he didn't understand what he saw.

A number of various ghostly mice-spirits looked at him from further in the darkness of the massive bookshelf, their eyes glowing eerily. It had taken Erik a moment to realize that he was indeed kneeling upon some over-sized library shelf. Easily forty feet across and twenty feet deep, glancing at the side he took note of an especially large book which stood close to eighty feet tall. The man's white sword shed a dim light in his hand, holding back the ambient gloom. He couldn't tell if the black phlegm was the bile or drool running down his face, but it felt as if a part of his brain had been violently cut out from his skull. A handful of faces peaked over the ledge from above him, little mice giggling at his misfortune, but those upon his own shelf seemed... Older, and they weren't laughing. One creature, a darker mouse that seemed more solid than the rest of the airy spirits, glared daggers at the haggard man. The old spirit squeaked words he didn't understand and spat through the shelf. The ethereal spittle likely dissolving into nothingness. The laughter abruptly stopped, and the young mice shrunk back behind the ledge. Erik didn't need a translator to understand the creature's open hostility and gestures. He wasn't welcome here.

Though he felt like he had larger concerns than a pack of mice... Once again his eyes drifted up past the ledge the younger mice-spirits had been, looking into the great black sky far-far above. The black star. It was like a supermassive sphere of annihilation, surrounded by a maelstrom of cosmic energy. A storm cycled around the void, rotating at speeds he could not even describe. Even the light was consumed, yet on either ends of the star, pillars of energy exploded out from two streams. It was as if the raw force of the universe were being expelled back out into reality as material was being consumed by the otherworldly cosmic vortex somewhere in the vastness of the heavens far away. He surely didn't remember that during his last visit.

[Mornings]

The priest seemed to take a moment to regather himself, evidently not at ease with dealing with the otherworldly god-thing which had taken its toll for passage. "Ms. Artel, there are things out there... Things beyond the comprehension of mortal creatures, or the gods we can name. Your friend is dead, because of what he knew and attempted to communicate. Let that be a lesson to you, because you will likely never receive another with such grace. Not even your thoughts are safe. Should such being take offense to the content of your mind, you will suffer greatly... That. Was such a thing. It is better you know no more of it, least your curiosity destroy you."

The priest turned and sauntered away a few steps before finding a seat next to a gravestone. "Like everything in this place... You must earn the right. The right to exist. The right to live. Or speak... Or know. You pay for it with the memories gathered throughout the dreams, or your own memories. Though your essence will be diminished greatly. Should you exhaust your essence completely, you will cease to exist. The Far Place is an evil world. My cemetery represents the demarcation of the furthest corners of the Far Place, and the Reach. The most terrible boundary, which all souls which have lost their ego eventually wander, to be consumed by the dead gods whom dwell here, and suffuse their essence... That they might cling to existence for but a moment longer. For those who still possess a conscious mind... This is their last chance."

Regina didn't understand their travel or the creature's she saw, but they appeared docile enough. The area was a rounded alcove, with a number of old graves on one side and a path leading off into the mist. A massive circular stone door blocked the entrance into the rocky face of the mountain or hill which the burial area was carved into. It didn't look like much of a dungeon, but perhaps another manner of burial sealed site. [Regina | Perception - Partial] [Regina | Knowledge - Failed]

Spoiler: Critical Note: Forbidden Knowledge

Show

Knowledge (Forbidden) is one of the most useful unique skills in the game, but also the absolute most dangerous ability a player character can utilize when performed outside of a very specific set of conditions, including the aid of numerous Potentials. Each time a PC attempts to utilize this skill without the protective features of other Potentials, they run a chance of acquiring a 'Corrupted Fate'. These conditions are a form of Curse which can potentially bestow numerous profane and crippling effects, but will in addition alter all quests and objectives the character possesses and can receive - permanently. The effects of a Corrupted Fate can be resolved by discovering and accomplishing the unique conditions associated with it. These conditions are always extremely severe, and may require an entire campaign-length undertaking to complete; stealing precious time which could be spent on other objectives.

Regardless of the result of the %dice in determining if such a status is received, the character receives a number of points of Spite, and possesses a very high chance of incurring a Divergence or critical alteration, which may impose its own unique consequences, depending on the circumstances. The percent of such events occurring caps at 100% upon the third use. A character may only utilize Knowledge (Forbidden) unprotected three times throughout the entity of the game. Upon exceeding this number of uses, the current character is immediately slain after the skill's resolution. This ability kills all iterations of a character simultaneously, but is specific to the identity which activated the ability and does not extend past Reflected Personas. This effect cannot be prevented by any source. Slain character's cannot be returned to life, including from such Potentials as Lesser Immortality.

Spoiler: Status

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֍ Regina +2500 (28,100xp)
HP 52/53 (1 divine cold dmg)
AC 19
⯎ Nobility Influence Gained
⯎ Deception Influence Gained
⯎ Trickery Influence Gained
⯎ Discovery Influence Gained
⯎ Magic Influence Gained
⯎ Secrets Influence Gained
⯎ Knowledge Influence Gained
⯎ Truth Influence Gained
⯎ Tapestry Influence Gained
⯎ Time Influence Gained
⯎ Dimensions Influence Gained
⯎ Fate Influence Gained
⯎ Vision Influence Gained
⯎ Light Influence Gained
⯎ Stability Influence Gained
⯎ Cold Influence Gained
⯎ Worlds Influence Gained
⯎ Death Influence Gained
⯎ Black Influence Gained
⯎ Red Influence Gained
⯎ Reflections Influence Gained
⯎ Darkness Influence Gained
⯎ Stars Influence Gained
⯎ Reality Influence Gained
⯎ Nuisance Influence Gained
⯎ Seeker Influence Gained
⯎ Forbidden Influence Gained
⯎ Planes Influence Gained
⯎ Delusion Influence Gained
⯎ Omens Influence Gained
⯎ Wandering Influence Gained
⯎ Stranded Influence Gained
⯎ Worlds Influence Gained
⯎ Real Influence Gained
⯎ Stranded Influence Gained
⯎ Ghosts Influence Gained
⯎ Entities Influence Gained
⯎ Passage Influence Gained
⯎ Realms Influence Gained
⯎ Essence Influence Gained
⯎ Existence Influence Gained

[Stevesciguy]

Erik dragged himself away from the strange mice people toward the edge of the shelf as he continued to cough up the black fluid. He dug through his mind for some hint of familiarity, but came back with nothing but a worsening headache. Once there was some distance between them, he awkwardly sheathed his sword - difficult to do with only one functioning hand, but he managed.

At the edge of the shelf, Erik dug through the belt pouch at his right hip. Withdrawing a small vial of blood block, he applied it to the dripping wound punched through his palm. Treating the wound proved difficult with the splitting headache, but the blood block eventually took and formed a sort of alchemical scab.

That being done, Erik more closely examined his arm. Try as he might, his fingers wouldn't move. He could see the black line racing off into the distance, craning his neck to find its destination before looking back down.

Hmph. At least I only need one hand for my sword.

Shrugging off his backpack, Erik dug through it, separating his blanket from his bed roll and wrapping it around his arm. Replacing his backpack, he then slipped his left arm under his bandolier, forming a shoddy makeshift sling. He doubted that any of the creatures who would recognize it truly needed to make visual contact with the marking to know he possessed it, but it felt irresponsible to leave it so visible. For all he knew, leaving it so exposed might seem that he was treating it as a badge of honor.

Removing his helmet and scraping out the black bile that had stuck to the inside with his good hand, Erik took his first proper look at... wherever they were. Glancing again at the colossal book on his shelf, he couldn't imagine what sort of creature would be large enough to require such a library. Looking up to find his masked companion clinging to the side of a shelf across the water 'road', he raised his right arm in acknowledgement.

Spoiler: OoC

Show

Nauseated - Condition ended

Erik took 6 more bleed damage since he couldn't make the heal check until his condition ended.

Perception check for the spooky hand compass(rolled in ooc):

(1d20+5)[21]

[flat_footed]

It was infuriating, being so unprepared for what beset him. Stripped of his tools; stripped of his body; stripped of his mind. Miryks was an unwitting passenger into a vision yet again, and he could feel the tenuous grasp on himself slipping. Colors and emotions wore away at the man, flaying him to the core and leaving the pieces to fall lost amidst the snow. Faces whirled past him that were unfamiliar, though names sprang to mind. Thoughts and feelings of dozens of people seeping into him as though he had lived their lives. Languages that were beyond comprehension, laid bare to him -wait.

The names and faces from the book's memory swirled around him, and somehow, his feverish mind could make sense of it. It drove him half mad to make sense of any of it, but still, the meaning was his for the taking. By surrendering a part of himself, it seemed, he was able to make (more) sense of the memories that were not his own. If he could have managed it, a fleeting grin would have cut across his face. The truth was just an old friend to Miryks; something he knew always came with a price.

Connections started forming with this realization, and as the memories and stories faded, Miryks could feel something of himself begin to coalesce. The abandoned shards of his mind began to glow from where they lay on the ground, growing brighter and brighter. The light invaded his mind, his thoughts, his very being. His awareness grew, and as it did, the discomfort exponentially so. Clamping his eyes shut did not spare him from the pain; in fact, it deepened it. Clearing his mind just seemed to quicken the light's progress as it overwhelmed him. His body remained untouched, but Miryks felt his mind impaled by each memory as it found its place within him.

The snow was a mixed blessing. Miryks awoke to a throbbing cold soaking through his body, and blinding whiteness haunting his vision. It took him far too long to realize he had fallen into the snow, and the unforgiving cold had likely forced his body to wake his mind. It felt as though days had passed, when it may have only been mere minutes. Staggering to his feet, Miryks began to take stock of his surroundings and find a way out of this damn place.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Perception - (1d20+35)[42]

[Mornings]

It was so quiet. A deathly stillness clung to the air and seemed to pervade everything about him. Yes. He knew this feeling. It has become all too familiar. His leg ached. A dull throbbing pain. Thick layers of snow had piled over him despite the flurries being so light. How long had he laid here. He couldn't know. Shaking off the six-inches of frost from his clothes and hair, he propped himself up, his legs felt weak. The gray mist roiled through the clearing obscuring any clear visibility of his surroundings, but he could see the stones. Staggering to his feet, his eyes passed over the graves until he found the sight of some kneeling creature. Its arms hung loose at its side, its head limp at its chest. Eyes staring blankly in the snow. The gray-skinned creature looked like some manner of orc, though it was now buried in the snow. Neither living, nor dead. An empty husk... Perhaps like he had been.

His body shivered, trying to regather some measure of warmth as he trying to see through the rolling cloud banks which seemed to shroud the massive graveyard. Holy symbols to Pharasma adorned many of the graves, but nature of this place was surreal... Distant. It wasn't the frost that made his skin itch. Miryks had that feeling again. The horrible nameless thing. Whatever form that might take, he'd find it here. The air seemed to turn. Not even the soft fall of the snow took a straight descent. Curving, turning... a hard ninety-degree bend. Vanishing. Emerging again in a lower space. This place was unnatural... This wasn't like last time. He knew without a doubt, he shouldn't be here. If he lost a leg again, he wouldn't just wake up with it firmly attached again. He could feel the firmness of his fist, the grass beneath the snow. This wasn't Willowbrook... but he'd failed to escape the nightmare. [Trait | Sense Doom - Your experiences have developed into a gut-feeling of when things are wrong, or when situations are influenced by forces far beyond your understanding of reality. Add your Sense Motive bonus to Perception checks made to determine the nature of something, or the influence of otherworldly entities.]

In the patterns of the wind, he could roughly see the broken senseless pathways. Not well enough to actually navigate them, but enough to realize that such a thing existed. You couldn't follow a snowflake's descent, nor could you chase the dance of a breeze, but they revealed much about his environment. No. About this world. It's distortion. He was alone now, and he didn't like the odds... The displacement of even the snow meant, each step forward would likely be irreversible. Looking beyond the clearing, the returned-man could make out the shapes of... things. Ghastly creatures. Some drifted by like spirits, while others moved quietly above the ground on pairs of massively long legs. He could feel his shoulders recoil at the memory of the monstrous scythe wielding monstrosities whom had carved him apart once before. The spirits looked strangely similar, perhaps sharing a race with the frenzied abominations... Though the things appeared to hold distinct dissimilarities.

All of the spirit-creatures proceeded to march universally in the same direction without any signs of distortion in their advance. After a moment, the partially concealed shape of a young woman rose up from behind a grave; as if she had been kneeling behind it. Though too far to make out clearly in the mist, the woman had appeared to have long billowing hair, perhaps of a length even exceeding her own height. Shrouded in layers of loose cloth, the shape of the lady's head turned toward the direction where all the ghostly things had begun to move. It took every bit of Miryks' effort to continue to make out the figure across what could have easily been eighty feet between them. Without a word, she pulled up her cowl. Cloaking herself in the many layers she wore, her shape adopted the same ghastly appearance as many of the other amorphous haunting figures moving through the mist. Then she joined the procession. It had been the first humanoid-shape he had made out from any of the nightmarish things striding through the fog. [Miryks | Perception - Success]

---

Side Quest: The Nightmare Parade
Miryks wakes to a strange twisted world filled with nothing but creatures spawned from the imagination of nightmares and demented children's tales. With keen eyes, he is able to make out the near-invisible horrors marching through the mist about him; all heading towards one destination. Stranded in a grave-world and without allies, he struggles to navigate the distorted folds of this new plane and uncover the truth of this otherworldly 'nightmare parade'
Difficulty: Unknown | Status: On-going | Profit: Unknown | Time: Unknown
Primary Objective: Follow the Nightmare Parade

---

Spoiler: Status

Show

֍ Mirykys +1000 (15,500xp)
HP 37/37
AC 17
⯎ Survival Influence Gained
⯎ Exploration Influence Gained
⯎ Truth Influence Gained
⯎ Wisdom Influence Gained
⯎ Knowledge Influence Gained
⯎ Caution Influence Gained
⯎ Stalking Influence Gained
⯎ Deception Influence Gained
⯎ Trickery Influence Gained
⯎ Battle Influence Gained
⯎ Omens Influence Gained
⯎ Mystery Influence Gained
⯎ Corruption Influence Gained
⯎ Revelation Influence Gained
⯎ Death Influence Gained
⯎ Forbidden Influence Gained
⯎ Cold Influence Gained
⯎ Death Influence Gained
⯎ Realms Influence Gained
⯎ Otherworld Influence Gained
⯎ Reality Influence Gained
⯎ Secrets Influence Gained
⯎ Magic Influence Gained
⯎ Divinity Influence Gained
⯎ Black Influence Gained
⯎ Dreams Influence Gained
⯎ Nightmare Influence Gained
⯎ Senses Influence Gained
⯎ Recovered [Otherworld Quiver]
⯎ Recovered [Unidentified Arrows] x10

[Chromascope3D]

Kazik
The Hanging Men

Kazik surveyed the area from his new perch. In his current state of mind it was far too much to take in; his mind had almost collapsed entirely as he was jostled by the crowd, and perhaps would have had his reflexes not taken over and instinctively he sought higher ground. The knight was down below, in some sort of trouble it looked like. Well, maybe he would step in if it began to take a turn. His head ached, and he needed some time to think.

He took a seat on the ledge, closed his eyes, and began to drink in the sounds and scents far below as he attempted to recall just what it was that they would need to do next...

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Gonna use his sensory abilities
Deathsense I: (1d20+21)[29]
Spending 4 points on Across the Dark, for a 65% chance to detect fate affecting influences
Oculus (sub 65): (1d100)[22]

Perception: (1d20+11)[15]
Survival: (1d20+11)[25]
K: Engineering on the architecture is guess idk :p (1d20+4)[17]
K: Nobility to figure out a bit about this societal structure (1d20+7)[24]

Spoiler: Stats

Show

Kazik
Human Sentinel (Darkness Defender) LN
Scorn 14
Focus Points: 6/10
Deathsense: 9/10
Reserve Points 5/5
Martial Focus Yes
HP 92 / 92 [13 nonlethal] Speed ft Init 8 AC 22 Fort 10 Ref 9 Will 8 [2] CMB +10 BAB 5 +1 Chain Whip +13 (+11) (1d3+8 (1d3+12) {+10}, x2)
Throwing Knives +12 (1d4+2, x2)
Dagger +12 (+10) (1d4+2, 19-20/x2) Str 20 (5) Dex 24 (7) Con 16 (3) Wis 16 (3) [5 (-3)]Int 14 (2) Cha 9 (-1)
Boons
Martial Focus

Conditions

[Mornings]

---

---

Main Quest: My Father Will Guide Me Up A Ladder To The Sky
The future was bleak. Awakening from the dream, Kazik and Erik woke to find a tragic broken world. With countless memories and years lost between them, the realization of the cruelty delivered by the magics employed against them finally begins to sink in. It was a malice beyond words, and loss beyond comprehension, where not even the awareness of it was allowed to persist... Only the emptiness. The depravity of the void which had slain every passion, every dream, every inspiration and moment that could be treasured by a mortal heart. The men they had been were dead now, in perhaps a far truer sense than any corpse could know. In some men's hearts burned the vengeance of the crippled and the wronged. In others rose the courage to let go. There were no easily won truths reclaimed from this blighted and wild dark. Here there were no words and no thoughts which escaped its thieving hand.
Difficulty: Moderate | Status: On-going | Profit: Unknown | Time: None
Primary Objective: Return to Ashurbanipal (Complete)
Alternate Objective: Return to the Veil
Primary Objective: Find the Librarian (Complete)
Primary Objective: Speak with The Dark Teller

---

22nd of Neth, Sunday | Time: 11:29 pm | AR 4713 (Winter)
Otherworld; L'Zho-Kenna, The Betwixt
L'Izz'tssa, The Passages; Ashurbanipal - The Towers

It had taken some work, but Erik had finally managed to staunch the bleeding with the help of the alchemic substance. It was fortunate he hadn't forgotten about the emergency provisions. He had already suffered more than enough abuse to kill, or at least cripple, lesser men. He couldn't hope but take a moment to evaluate himself before taking measures to disguise his twisted limb. He'd changed. His body was tough as nails... No. Tougher. Since he'd returned from the venture in the dark... Since he'd returned with this hand... Even his bones felt weighty. Like rods of iron running beneath his skin. Despite the vicious wound ripping through ligaments, ripping out muscle tissue and veins... The mangled arm hadn't severely impacted his ability to function. He couldn't simply dismiss it anymore. It had been a lethal blow. If someone else were to have suffered the same strike, it would have been a hopeless endeavor to save their lives, least the limb was at least amputated. If it could be cauterized, it would still be a fifty-fifty toss between the fever and rot. In tainted land there were no such amenities to provide long-term care, and no one would waste their precious little magical resources unless the expedition itself hinged on one man's survival... Erk could only question what he was becoming if his new arm was any hint.

The mercenary noticed the mouse-creatures seemed less hostile after he tightly bound his black hand, though the older mice still seemed to sneer at him. At least it appeared like the strange animals wouldn't attack him, for now. After cleaning out the last of the vile goo from his helmet and face his preparations were complete. He felt that while the creature's disposition might have improved slightly, it was likely best not to test their patience further and be on his way. Looking down at his shrouded arm, he could see the black line rise up, his mind drifting with it, until it settled pointing off straight far into the distance. Erik could see for hundreds... thousands of feet from high above, watching the black line race out into the horizon. Like a bag of weight, his mind came crashing back down into his body again, shaking him awake as if he'd been caught in the hold of some frivolous daydream. [Erik | Perception - Partial]

⯎

It was what they wore. Kazik had given up trying to think-up an answer. He had no idea what they were. For all he knew these creature's weren't even real. Though, he noticed the various accouterments each mouse seemed to wear. The young childlike ones had nothing of the sort, but the adult mice were different. A dagger. A ring. Swords. His eyes scanned them over, seeming to assemble some semblance of rough understanding in the mouse-hierarchy. The general seniority by age or experience seemed to be related to the number of rings adorning the ears of each mouse. A social structure or sorts, though he couldn't be sure if it was familial, clan, or various houses. None of the ear rings and piercings seemed to look like each other, all having a uniqueness. Then there were those who carried weapons. Perhaps the mice had something of a warrior-culture. Those who had any weapon seemed to command a different level of respect from all mice, regardless of their rings. Though the size of their blade also seemed to distinguish a hierarchy among these 'elite'. He doubted a normal mouse was allowed to bear arms, as it was a symbol of this second warrior 'caste'. These elite mice didn't seem to pay them any mind. Those with weapons larger than knives were often accompanied by escorts. [Kazik | Knowledge (Nobility) - Failure]

Kazik felt his supernatural senses open expanding his awareness of the world about him. It was strange. Even in the normal world, in the middle of a city, there would always be at least some trace amount of corruption to besiege him. Yet, the familiar feeling of dread didn't assault him. Rather... It felt, soothing. His deathsense could feel all corruption leaving, expunged from reality. In a way, something about the experience felt very similar to the aura of the Whispering Witch. A looming destructive cloud that seemed to expel corruption, and extrude raw and violent force. But this... It was immeasurable. It was like all taint had been drawn away and the rare natural energy of the world were flooding out into the world in its place. His skin prickled. The air was so crisp and clean, it filled his lungs. He could feel the blight within his own body being drawn out. The masked man begun to cough and hack, spewing out gouts of eerie black smoke. Corruption leaving his body. He felt lighter, his eyes were drawn up to the great celestial maelstrom above, whirling in the cosmos. He had missed that.... While he couldn't begin to guess just what manner of thing that was, he was certain it had something to do with the purity of the world about him. [Kazik | Deathsense - Success]

After a moment, he paused. Something felt... strange. Something inside him. A sudden wrenching pain seared his consciousness and wept into his body. It was a kind of hurt he'd never felt before, as the ills of he mind were becoming real in a nauseating and delayed second wave of discomfort with each shattering pulse in his brain. Perhaps it wasn't the most painful thing he'd ever experienced, but it was a different kind of pain. A wounding torment that couldn't be prepared for, that couldn't be dulled. The crippling bout of searing mind-lacerations was almost enough to make him feel like laughing. If only he could learn a similar technique. It was as if his insides were being scrubbed with burning steel-wool. His skin begun to shift a color closer to a dull gray, then returned to its normal hue. The pain had passed, sweat permeating his clothes. Yet, rather than feeling ill... He felt. Okay. No... Better than okay. Something surged beneath his skin, something intangible. Force. The air seemed to slightly shift around himself, as if he'd changed.

---

Potential Acquired - (Kazik) | Exposure: Origin Magic Pool
You've traveled further than most and come into direct contact with an immeasurable source of raw cosmic energy. The explosive power has purged you or all taint and corruption and infused you with the most ancient primordial essence in existence. This energy has made you more sensitive to magic and your ability to tap into cosmic forces, while being more resistant to sources of corruption. Magical creatures and entities from other realms can innately sense your changed state and fear the might you may command.
Benefit: The creature gains an aura similar to the paladin's aura class ability, but this effect confers no change based on alignment. Rather, the creature can be detected by those who can sense magical effects and counts as a Weave for the purpose of senses and abilities which would reveal the creature's presence. This aura is also visible via spells such as detect magic, however due to the unfathomable power of this effect most casters are crippled by the sight of it. A detect magic spell which has observed the aura for 1 round inflicts the nauseated condition for 3 rounds (DC 214 fortitude save), 2 rounds of observation stuns the caster for 3 rounds (DC 214 fortitude save), 3 rounds of observation renders the caster unconscious for 3 minutes (DC 214 fortitude save). Creatures which benefit from true-sight and possess less than 80 HD attempt to maintain a safe 30 ft distance, or become panicked for 1 round (DC 214 will save, this effect bypasses standard fear and mind-affecting immunities).

The creature gains Arcane Aptitude if they do not already possess it, and an equal amount of Focus equal to their Aptitude value. The creature also gains a mana pool, if they do not already possess it, the size of this pool is equal to half their HD (minimum 1). After the creature has gained a mana pool, this pool is converted into Origin Mana. The creature can no longer possess a standard mana pool and no longer recovers spent MP from any standard source. Any non-potential ability the creature possesses which would grant them MP, has this line removed from its effect description. The creature gains the aptitude to learn and cast Origin Spells.

Due to the creature's purified state, it is highly resistant to all corruption and taint effects. The Origin Creature may always roll twice and take the best result against these effects, even when no save would normally be allowed. Additionally, it may spend 1 MP to roll again against a corruption effect it had already failed with a +20 circumstance bonus. Upon success, the effect is treated as if the Origin Creature had succeeded its initial check to resist.

Upon gaining this Potential, the creature's current MP is reduced to 0.

ARCANE APTITUDE PROGRESSION
Intelligence Modifier + Wisdom Modifier + Charisma Modifier + Progression Dice

Female Progression Die: 1d4+2
Male Progression Die: 1d8
(Points are recovered every 24 hours)

---

The sudden shift in his body felt...good. It had been some time since there had been anything but hopelessness and despair... Was he changing? Or was he adapting... Adapting to this broken nameless universe bereft of men, but filled with gods. He didn't know how he to describe it, but the energy simmering beneath... while empty, felt like it could shake the very universe. He resolved to push further, to turn inward and seek an answer...

"Your irritability is understandable, but this particular circumstance was completely without my influence. Of that you may be certain." The voice crashed through Kazik's mind clearly. He remembered this... this feeling. He'd seen so many instances flicker through his mind during his escape from the prison, but now... He controlled it. Though it was challenging, like looking through a witch's crystal ball, but the sphere kept rolling... Slippery and out of focus. The male thing which spoke, had a careful and well-mannered way with words... but evidently was not human. Its 'voice' was something like a creaking vox-projection of sounds, and though he didn't know the words, he understood the entity clearly. "Look at my hall! You mean to tell me this whole mess is just some... coincidence? You've flooded half the damn place already!" The gruff old voice of a man barked out angrily in response to the creature. He'd heard it before, more than once in fact. It was that old man... The librarian! [Kazik | Attunement Experience Points 100 - Attunment is the measure of a creature's sensitivity and ability to tap into the Fates]

"Once again... You have my apologies on behalf of the Elghin'Mados, but there is little else that can be done until she's decided otherwise." Kazik's vision slid sharply as his perception rolled like a marble on a table, catching the wily old man as he snorted and stomped his feet in a wild outburst. "Like hell I want your apology! Do you not see how hard we have to work just to keep your Lady at bay!? This is outrageous, and I demand suitable reparations for this nonsense!" Once again his sight jarringly slid the other way, he couldn't get a clear picture of the stranger who spoke to the old book keeper, there was only a shifting black sheet. Like children sitting on each other's shoulders and holding up a large dark blanket out wide. He could feel it. His vision was successful... He could see it. The thin red line. It bent, twisted... divided. His back went upright. He had an unsettling feeling.... He'd done something. [Kazik | Weaving Experience Points 100 - Weaving is the measure of a creature's ability to interact and alter the Fates]

"Of course. We intend to compensate you appropriately for the trouble." The sound of the old man snorting dismissively filled Kazik's ears as the lines of crimson red cut through the sky between the two towers either man occupied. "Pfft. Not to me you loaf. There's others that could put it to better use." "Then... Who would you have as your benefactor?" Erik recoiled as a whirling beam of red light cut past him, the mice creatures suddenly backed away as the world about either of the men was divided into countless cube-shaped spaces of light. The mercenary realized the formation of the array too late. It had already surrounded him. Sheit. Catapulted through the air from the tower, he flipped several times as the cubed blocks of reality sent him hurtling as if by a massive gravitational conveyor belt in the sky. The stone beneath Kazik broke off from the ledge and fired him off, following the path of the waterway. The blocks of reality turned, twisted and flipped, folding the shape and space around the masked man until he flew seated in a dense black chair far above the procession of laboring spirit-beasts below.

Accelerating faster and faster, Kazik's vision seemed to blur as massive towers thousands of feet tall came and vanished faster than he could count. Faster. There was no wind, but the pressure begun to shake him in his seat like a rough turbulence as their ceaseless acceleration begun to approach a speed that blended all shapes into nothing but motion. Then he stopped. The dense black chair landing gently on a massive raised platform which looked much like a study carved from a dark marble. Erik blinked into existence at his side, landing in a flopping heap, his armor sliding him across the polished stone floor with a raucous grinding sound that made the old man before him cover his ears. "What in L'Lotha..." The grumbling old man glanced at the felled mercenary then at Kazik, "The Oculus!?" The warped dark blot in reality spoke in response, "Your Reclaimers... and, caught black-handed, it seems."

While Kazik didn't know the words they spoke, in their language it sounded more like some manner of phrase, rather than what he had understood. What he'd heard as simply three words, had been spoken in what sounded like one. Though, he couldn't begin to imagine at just what significance that 'black handed' phrase might have meant to the distorted void-shape before him. Massively tall, perhaps eight or nine feet from the ground, the shifting blot was impossible to understand and without definition. The old man smashed his palm into his forehead, then again and again in obvious frustration, "How.... How hard is it to walk through a damn door!? Ugh." The book keeper seemed deeply ashamed of Erik's state, covering his face as he turned away, casting his attention at Kazik. A befuddled look smeared across his face, his mouth agape in surprise "How are you kids complete opposites!? Now you're an Origin Mage too." The mistranslated words sounded wrong, but Kazik let it go. There was no way to know just what language was even being spoken. The old librarian shook his head in disbelief, gesturing at the blotted entity, "Look, cosmic balance is restored..." The man's words were filled with sarcasm as he threw up his arms in frustration storming away to a massive desk. The void-thing seemed to gesture inquisitively, appearing to take interest in Kazik. "How curious. There hasn't been a mortal who would attune with Origin magic since the last Passage was opened. This is a wonderful event. Historic even... It is a shame it is only marred by your companion's... condition." The entity seemed to briefly direct its focus to Erik, before returning to Kazik. "Forgive me. Allow me to introduce myself properly... I am the representative and Speaker of Elghin'Mados. The Dark Teller."

[Stevesciguy]

As he mused over his newfound durability, Erik wondered just how many times he should've died - or perhaps had died, given the nature of their prison. Nearly falling into the crimson maw. Being hunted by the Stalker. Getting shunted out of the way shortly before Crowe had caused another collapse. Getting ripped through the abyss by his arm, before being thrown at the feet of the Witch and the monstrosities she'd summoned, barely remaining conscious. Perhaps Erik was dead, and his body and mind simply refused to acknowledge it.

Whatever the conclusion of his wondering might have been, it was ripped from his thoughts as he was ripped from his feet. Flipping wildly through the air nearly brought back the nausea he'd just recovered from, and made his head ache all the worse. Finally being dropped to the floor, Erik made a frustrated grunt.

I suppose I'll have to get used to this.

Struggling once more to his feet as the Librarian and Teller spoke, he heard something about Oculus, Origin Mage, in reference to the younger man. More words with no meaning.

When Erik spoke, he managed to keep his voice level to some degree, though it was rougher, louder, and had a notable edge to it. He called back to the Librarian first:

"Walking through a door is easy. I did it with one arm and half my skull blown out. It's getting some damned answers that's hard. Look what I got for trying."

Here Erik gestured roughly with his bound arm. It was clear that recent events, or perhaps the aforementioned 'blown out skull' had removed some measure of restraint from the old mercenary. This man was angrier, less precise with his wording and tone than he'd been before.

Turning back to the inky blot before him, Erik tried his best to real his tone back in. He didn't want to piss this thing off any more than he already had. Once again he started sifting through those fragments in his mind. He'd find his answers, one way or another.

"The Dark Teller. You're the one I'm supposed to talk to to set right whatever it is I've done. What is it that I've done, exactly?"

Spoiler: OoC

Show

Knowledge(abstract) on the Dark Teller: (1d20+10)[17] Reroll: (1d20+10)[11] [-550 experience]

Sense Motive on the Dark Teller, relating to Erik and his Blackening, see how it feels about that: (1d20+4)[19]

Survival to get a feel for the place. We are not trying that trick again, but Erik wants to know if this place is unstable or anything: (1d20+6)[22]

[Mornings]

---

---

Main Quest: My Father Will Guide Me Up A Ladder To The Sky
The future was bleak. Awakening from the dream, Kazik and Erik woke to find a tragic broken world. With countless memories and years lost between them, the realization of the cruelty delivered by the magics employed against them finally begins to sink in. It was a malice beyond words, and loss beyond comprehension, where not even the awareness of it was allowed to persist... Only the emptiness. The depravity of the void which had slain every passion, every dream, every inspiration and moment that could be treasured by a mortal heart. The men they had been were dead now, in perhaps a far truer sense than any corpse could know. In some men's hearts burned the vengeance of the crippled and the wronged. In others rose the courage to let go. There were no easily won truths reclaimed from this blighted and wild dark. Here there were no words and no thoughts which escaped its thieving hand.
Difficulty: Moderate | Status: On-going | Profit: Unknown | Time: None
Primary Objective: Return to Ashurbanipal (Complete)
Alternate Objective: Return to the Veil
Primary Objective: Find the Librarian (Complete)
Primary Objective: Speak with The Dark Teller

---

22nd of Neth, Sunday | Time: 11:29 pm | AR 4713 (Winter)
Otherworld; L'Zho-Kenna, The Betwixt
L'Izz'tssa, The Passages; Ashurbanipal - L'Tulus D'Isto, The Hall of Night

There was good news, and there was bad news. The good news was that this place seemed... solid. Though not in the sense he had been familiar with. In the past, every place he'd been thrown, magically transported, or fallen through was either... 'Not actively collapsing, right now.' Or, 'There is finite time before the world collapses.' This place was something else entirely. Erik couldn't even feel the presence of corruption lingering in the back of his mind. His twitch, that feral sense of danger scratching the bottom recesses of his skull, was strangely absent. Instead, it felt like this place had been purged of such things. As if it simply couldn't collapse. He'd never felt this way before, not even outside walking in the city. [Erik | Survival - Success]

The bad news. This... thing. This blotted towering space before him, whatever it was. He couldn't read it. Hell, he couldn't even begin to understand it, though Kazik seemed to make sense of the thing. It was like a rigid pillar of black, motionless and observed identically from all sides. Sheit, he didn't even know where was front and where was back, or if such a logical concept was too 'mundane' to bring into observations of such an extreme otherworldly entity. The blot was unresponsive to his words, seeming to ignore him completely. Something inside told him, what he was and what was true, were not the same things. Erik could feel it in his gut, see it in the difference between each man's exchange that was present. To each of them, the world, this world, appeared slightly different... [Erik | Sense Motive - Failure] [Erik | Knowledge (Abstract) - Failure]

The old book keeper was now sitting at his massive dark marble desk with quill in hand, scribbling away at various tomes at once, jumping sentence after sentence between three volumes. "You seem to misunderstand, Lord Ragnok... You've forfeit your right to ask anything of the Teller. Only the absolute minimum services may be offered to you. Of which, there are two. Accepting the drop you have stolen. Or accepting indemnification to prove the sincerity of your regret for your actions. Neither of which actually requires he speak with you." The old man opened another book, tracing though a few lines. His glowing white eyes lifting up from the pages to glower at the man from the shadow of the scarves wrapped about his head. "Is it 'normal' for veterans of your profession to test the bounds of such evil entities, Lord Ragnok? When compared to a mortal, the Whispering Witch may as well be called a 'god'. Mortals already call other mortals 'gods', so perhaps that isn't far from the truth. But you aren't like other men, are you, Lord Ragnok. You venture those spaces where the boarder of your universe is broken. Places where men rot from stepping into shade. When men evaporate and shatter from the light, and merely looking upon these 'Veilbeasts' could erase an expedition from reality. All things you've seen. So tell me, Lord Ragnok. When such an entity, beyond any Veilbeast you've ever encountered or heard of... showed such restraint, and instead did not even look upon you. What possessed you to press further still?"

The librarian pulled a page aside and begun scribbling down some text, "Adessa is an evil existence to humankind, but no more than any others of her race. Nor is she a god. However, she has traveled further though the Black than any entity before. Further than what can be seen. Further than the farthest Passage. Further than even the Dark Teller, and much further still. Now she is a manifestation of it, a living extension of the depths. An impossible thing which a mortal cannot comprehend. Simply gaining a semblance of awareness of her nature, ensnares ones essence into the Black... As it did for you. Read this, and piece your thoughts back together." The ancient man slid a paper across the desk toward the mercenary, glowing words were etched into its surface.

[Stevesciguy]

Erik turned to face the Librarian, taking one last glance at the bizarre form of the Teller before stepping towards the desk, meeting the old man's glare with his own unflinching gaze. As he answered the Librarian's question, his voice grew firm and level. This was known territory: why he did what he did.

"My world is fractured and broken. Tens of thousands died during that Long Night, and we're still counting the bodies. When the sun finally rose again, that Night left behind dark, twisted corners of the world that people grew to fear. That fear brought the plagues, and it was the whip which the Purifiers lashed the populace with, encouraging suspicion and distrust.

I don't know if you saw what I did in Willowbrook. A surveyor consumed by the crimson hunger hanging under the world. A marksman, dead set on getting as many out alive as he could, simply crumble to dust. A girl, barely an adult, fighting for her life, then ours, against a beast made of manifest fear. Hell, this kid here-"

He gestures to Kazik with his good arm.

"-I watched him have his arm blown off, run in terror from the Veilbeast that Crowe fought off, and get dragged down into freezing water by a thousand disembodied black hands.

Those people need better; they deserve better. So I face those corners of the world. I dig through those points, looking for some way out, some cure that we can use to fight against those twisted parts of reality.

So when I come to face a creature who might be able to tell me something, rather than trying to piece together slivers of information. I ask. And I probe. Because to do otherwise would be to waste an opportunity to learn something real. There are risks that come with that."

He raised his bound arm for a moment.

"And I've accepted it. This time I stepped too far. But it was better than letting the opportunity slip away."

His monologue finished, Erik picked up the parchment and began to read the glowing text.

[Mornings]

---

---

Main Quest: My Father Will Guide Me Up A Ladder To The Sky
The future was bleak. Awakening from the dream, Kazik and Erik woke to find a tragic broken world. With countless memories and years lost between them, the realization of the cruelty delivered by the magics employed against them finally begins to sink in. It was a malice beyond words, and loss beyond comprehension, where not even the awareness of it was allowed to persist... Only the emptiness. The depravity of the void which had slain every passion, every dream, every inspiration and moment that could be treasured by a mortal heart. The men they had been were dead now, in perhaps a far truer sense than any corpse could know. In some men's hearts burned the vengeance of the crippled and the wronged. In others rose the courage to let go. There were no easily won truths reclaimed from this blighted and wild dark. Here there were no words and no thoughts which escaped its thieving hand.
Difficulty: Moderate | Status: On-going | Profit: Unknown | Time: None
Primary Objective: Return to Ashurbanipal (Complete)
Alternate Objective: Return to the Veil
Primary Objective: Find the Librarian (Complete)
Primary Objective: Speak with The Dark Teller

---

22nd of Neth, Sunday | Time: 11:30 pm | AR 4713 (Winter)
Otherworld; L'Zho-Kenna, The Betwixt
L'Izz'tssa, The Passages; Ashurbanipal - L'Tulus D'Isto, The Hall of Night

Erik retrieved the parchment, the strange sigils were illegible but visions flashed in his mind. The flickers of flames blazed to life, reconstructing the fires extinguished in his consciousness. There was a sudden sense of clarity which begun to glow in his mind, an alertness of the world about him. It felt like his ability to process thoughts had become suddenly more acute... Yet. The shine within the world darkened. An overhanging gloom of a dimly illuminated world, even the old man seemed to appear... faded. The bright colors of his almost Varsian attire, dissipating like a fistful of sand being blown out from his palm. Only the white of the glowing plants and the heavenly maelstrom above illuminated his world. Even the Teller had changed radically. He couldn't see the blotted space anymore. There was only an unusual, but unremarkable distortion of the light, as if someone had cast a spell to blur the shape of a large statue to make it less visible. [Erik | Status - Wisdom Damage Restored]

"...And you did learn, Lord Ragnok. But you've come as far as a man can... No, perhaps further. The answers you receive are not answers you can understand. The woes of your blighted world. No. Of even the Spheres of your shattered universe. Is but a small, mostly inconsequential tale in a much grander macrocosm of existences. One tale of many. For a man, it is a noble thought. But as a Reclaimer, your logic is foolish and irresponsible. You will never save anything should you continue forward and perish with those notions."

The book keeper rose from the desk, sharply closing a book. "...And you are a Reclaimer now, Lord Ragnok... despite your 'condition'. I am the Librarian of Ashurbanipal, I have no other name, and it is my duty to educate you... that you might be prepared for what comes next. You cannot face the entities beyond your universe as a man would, Lord Ragnok. You would be broken before you ever even understood why."

[flat_footed]

Miryks considered approaching the gray-skinned form, but quickly dismissed that notion. That shell is as likely to strike out at me as it is to have something of use. Life may have left that form, but something always seems to remain in this place. Whatever befell that fool, if it wasn't strong enough to free itself from the icy prison, it was beneath Miryks's notice. He kept his eyes on the retreating woman's form as best he could while picking a path through the graves.

A shiver cut through his body, painfully reminding him of the predicament he had just escaped. Miryks silently took stock of his body, trying to gauge the passage of time. When was the last time I ate, or drank? A wry smile crossed his lips. Even without provisions, he was better equipped than most. Injuries, hunger, thirst, fatigue; these were minor inconveniences he had long since trained his mind to push past. The body and mind were far more connected than most people realized. And even those who did, mistakenly assumed the mind to be the stronger of the two. The Aasimar's strokes had painted far too many stories to believe such a juvenile notion.

As Miryks pressed on, he tried to recall if the woman was someone he had seen before. Hair that long wasn't common; in fact, it was downright impractical. Miryks was sure he would remember if he had seen someone like that before, if only to mentally chastise such a ridiculous decision. Regardless, she seemed to be the only "normal" thing with him in this haze. Even the path at his feet twisted upon itself in his mind, making it impossible to follow. If it weren't for the procession all around him, it may have been impossible to find his way at all. With no other landmarks to aim his progress towards, he was content to travel in the same direction. Something or someone was drawing them in. For now, he would stay alert and try to find his bearings and a way out of this.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Miryks moves in the direction of the woman and the parade.

Knowledge: Local - (1d20+18)[34] Trying to place the woman with long hair, from reality or visions
Knowledge: Dungeoneering - (1d20+18)[35] Trying to identify anything about the creatures walking
Sense Doom - (1d20+68)[70] Observing the nature of the spectral procession
Perception - (1d20+35)[55] Miryks looks around as he walks
Survival - (1d20+33)[43] Attempting to follow the woman (tracks in snow)

[Stevesciguy]

Erik sighed, and pressed the fingers of his right hand into his eyes. The terrible ache in his skull gone, his thoughts clear. Perhaps the Librarian was right - if nothing else, he should at least learn just what he's dealing with before pressing into unknown boundaries. Thinking back to the terms of his curse, Erik could only wonder if the Librarian had broken some rule by offering the parchment. He set it back down, then looked up to the old man.

"Ok. Fine. Educate me, then: What precisely was my crime? And what do you mean by 'accepting the 'drop' I've stolen, or accepting indemnification'?"

[Mornings]

Miryks mind tried to reel back through the vast ocean of faces. Like a deck of cards his thoughts tossed them aside in rapid succession, until he was left with no card left. He didn't know her. At least that was his conclusion after thoroughly drudging through his 'book of faces'. He didn't forget them so readily, especially not someone with so ostentatious an appearance. His mind tried to piece the scene before him together, even with her disguise, joining such a parade... Would she even be human? Perhaps that didn't matter as much as simply being less of a monstrous lumbering wraith-spirit. After all, it wasn't like he was 'human' himself. [Miryks | Knowledge (Local) - Success]

Most of the things hidden in the mist were... for lack of better words, freakish nightmares. Some drifted through the air, flapping on gaunt wings of tightly bound limbs. Arms and legs of all manner of sizes, tied with wire to a jagged skeletal frame, jerking and writhing about in preserved agony. Some such creatures, were little more than amorphous gibbering blobs filled with countless screaming faces. A great tree hundreds of feet tall labored forth on roots shaped like a hundred thousand maws. Its exterior covered with the half-absorbed shapes of fighting-men, the gleam of armor distantly shining from its incorporeal body, surrounded by a thousand weaving swords and the groan of some tortured dead army. The sight of the things made him recoil, never mind those horrors who were nothing but amorphous lumps of living organs gliding across the ground on a stream of phlegmy gelatinous goo. It was a literal parade of nightmarish horrors, nameless things, each one beyond the scope of any one man to defeat in single-combat. If even an eight of this horde were to descend upon the Inner Sea, Miryks couldn't think of anything which could stop it. [Miryks | Knowledge (Dungeneering) - Failed]

The roguish man didn't require a seventh sense to understand the utterly evil and depraved nature of the unnatural host before him, but with it he could feel it. The compulsion. Some greater evil drawing them forward, demanding their assembly. It was like some world-shaking commandment, even he himself struggled to resist it. It demanded he march. He didn't bother trying to file-in behind the formation far off to his side, more beasties fell into the procession endlessly as they went... stretching perhaps miles, far beyond Miryks perception. Though the world seemed to bend his direction everywhere except forward, the strange pull of the call seemed to direct him. It didn't take him long to understand, there was no following. There was no linear plane for the dimension he wished to go, only winding arcs and loops which terminated in displaced locations, often doubling back, to find a new arc which ended some location ahead. In a sort of daze, he wandered, until he finally found himself before a massive clearing.

A great domed building sat in the center, large pillars of sculpted stone lifting the great structure together and securing the massive four sealed doors on every cardinal direction in place. Standing atop the marble construct, was a great beast. It was like the black shape of a wolf, but its features were blotted out of reality. An inky void. The monstrosity was easily a hundred feet tall from paw to shoulder, capable of wrapping itself around the great domed building with its sheer length and mass. Piercing eyes like two bright stars leering out from the night. Miryks nearly shriveled back behind a gravestone as his senses were overwhelmed at the sight of the thing. His body shook as blood begun to run out from his nose and eyes by the immense pressure. Doom. With a single look, he understood. It was a being of unequivocal evil and gloom. A bane to all living things. [Miryks | Sense Doom - Success]

---

Side Quest: The Nightmare Parade
Miryks wakes to a strange twisted world filled with nothing but creatures spawned from the imagination of nightmares and demented children's tales. With keen eyes, he is able to make out the near-invisible horrors marching through the mist about him; all heading towards one destination. Stranded in a grave-world and without allies, he struggles to navigate the distorted folds of this new plane and uncover the truth of this otherworldly 'nightmare parade'
Difficulty: Challenging | Status: On-going | Profit: Unknown | Time: Unknown
Primary Objective: Follow the Nightmare Parade (Complete)
Primary Objective: Infiltrate the Nightmare Parade

---

Spoiler: Status

Show

֍ Mirykys +1000 (16,500xp)
HP 37/37
AC 17
⯎ Survival Influence Gained
⯎ Exploration Influence Gained
⯎ Truth Influence Gained
⯎ Wisdom Influence Gained
⯎ Knowledge Influence Gained
⯎ Caution Influence Gained
⯎ Stalking Influence Gained
⯎ Deception Influence Gained
⯎ Trickery Influence Gained
⯎ Battle Influence Gained
⯎ Omens Influence Gained
⯎ Mystery Influence Gained
⯎ Corruption Influence Gained
⯎ Revelation Influence Gained
⯎ Death Influence Gained
⯎ Forbidden Influence Gained
⯎ Cold Influence Gained
⯎ Death Influence Gained
⯎ Realms Influence Gained
⯎ Otherworld Influence Gained
⯎ Reality Influence Gained
⯎ Secrets Influence Gained
⯎ Magic Influence Gained
⯎ Divinity Influence Gained
⯎ Black Influence Gained
⯎ Dreams Influence Gained
⯎ Nightmare Influence Gained
⯎ Senses Influence Gained
⯎ Doom Influence Gained
⯎ Evil Influence Gained
⯎ Recovered [Otherworld Quiver]
⯎ Recovered [Unidentified Arrows] x10

[Mornings]

---

---

Main Quest: My Father Will Guide Me Up A Ladder To The Sky
The future was bleak. Awakening from the dream, Kazik and Erik woke to find a tragic broken world. With countless memories and years lost between them, the realization of the cruelty delivered by the magics employed against them finally begins to sink in. It was a malice beyond words, and loss beyond comprehension, where not even the awareness of it was allowed to persist... Only the emptiness. The depravity of the void which had slain every passion, every dream, every inspiration and moment that could be treasured by a mortal heart. The men they had been were dead now, in perhaps a far truer sense than any corpse could know. In some men's hearts burned the vengeance of the crippled and the wronged. In others rose the courage to let go. There were no easily won truths reclaimed from this blighted and wild dark. Here there were no words and no thoughts which escaped its thieving hand.
Difficulty: Moderate | Status: On-going | Profit: Unknown | Time: None
Primary Objective: Return to Ashurbanipal (Complete)
Alternate Objective: Return to the Veil
Primary Objective: Find the Librarian (Complete)
Primary Objective: Speak with The Dark Teller

---

22nd of Neth, Sunday | Time: 11:30 pm | AR 4713 (Winter)
Otherworld; L'Zho-Kenna, The Betwixt
L'Izz'tssa, The Passages; Ashurbanipal - L'Tulus D'Isto, The Hall of Night

The Librarian nodded as he sat on the edge of his massive desk, "Truthfully, it's more like two 'crimes', though I use the word loosely... As that depends on what manner of 'justice' is being upheld, and from whom. The first and foremost, is the drop taken from the Elghin'Mados. Explaining what, and who the Mados is might be a bit too much for a 'first lesson'. So for simplicity-sake we'll just call it... a place. Imagine the Elghin'Mados is... ehm, 'a lake'. But this 'lake' is the source of all energy throughout every universe, though obviously that energy takes different shapes and expressions by the time it reaches the inhabitants of a respective universe. In a proverbial sense, you 'dipped you hand into this lake'. Thereby taking some infinitesimally small bit of its water with you... 'a drop'. This is a crime in... Well, every universe that comes to mind. Loosing any amount of this 'water' from the 'lake' can result in unfathomable consequences, and I mean that in the most literal sense. Even I have no means to guess at the potential implications of how this might damage the universes as a whole. Under normal circumstances, while the boundaries between the phases of existence are strong, this wouldn't be possible. But your 'Long Night' effected more than just humankind. As I said... 'one tale of many'. You'll do well learning the problems of other worlds if you desire to brave them."

"It's also critical to note, that there exist entities which guard the stability of all universes. 'Enforces' of the cosmic laws which dictate balance. It is only a matter of time before such things come to set right the irreparable damage you will no-doubt sow in your wake... And their's is a cruel and merciless justice. As you may have heard, the Dark Teller is the representative and Speaker of Elghin'Mados. Imagine him to be the expression of the Mados' will upon the realm. Perhaps not literally, but something along those lines. The Teller can accept the 'drop' you've taken, though this does not mean your crime will be readily dismissed. Perhaps, your charge might be lessened, but not fully pardoned. After all... The 'drop' will inevitably be reclaimed, its just a question of force. Indemnification is the compensation you offer to the Mados, to prove your sincerity... Much like an offering to a church. A plea for pardon."

"Your second crime is not so 'universal', and doesn't bear the threat of cosmic forces annihilating you from existence. There are two primary forces which occupy the 'Deeper Dark' which you briefly saw. The Memoria, who is also the Elghin'Mados, and its lesser rival sister... the Thousand. The second was the force which influenced you, forcing your actions before releasing you. Most creatures which are ensnared by nothing more than its influence become puppets to its will. While perhaps not inherently 'evil', the Thousand is a large source of corruption. In many worlds like yours, it is the primary source of all such corruption. Thus, its not so uncommon in many realms for thralls and conspirators to be viewed as criminals. Similar to how 'witches' were treated, based on what you recalled. Though perhaps more generally, rather than just by a single organization. Their are many tales of being caught 'black-handed', which to denizens of various realms simply means to be caught conspiring with the Thousand. Though, in the greater realms, it means to tamper with the forces of the Deeper Dark. Both of which will quickly turn you into a pariah, or even an extraordinarily vile criminal."

"Also, take care. Never repeat these names frivolously, within your own domain of Ashurbanipal, there is some leeway. However, beyond... The wrath of the entity you invoke could destroy you completely. You are a Reclaimer, but you are also a Host and a man... Two things which might compel the forces you usher to spurn you. Merely being slain is less of a concern for a Reclaimer, but the 'justice' which may be executed against you will befit the station of the one you've wronged. If your essence is unraveled from the existential phases, then there is nothing which can save you."

[Stevesciguy]

Reclaimer, Host, Elghin'Mados... I'm going to need a damn dictionary at this rate.

He'd have to wait later for that that dictionary, though. It was clear to him that the matter of this 'drop' needed to be resolved quickly. Erik took another glance at the Teller, now so much less foreboding, less... Dark. Turning back to the old man:

"Right. So, I examine the Witch too closely. This... entity takes control of me, using me to steal this drop. As a secondary effect, some may now view me as a conspirator to this entity."

Erik takes a moment, putting his palm to his head.

Great damned mess this is.

"So how do I return this drop? Something tells me it isn't so simple as just asking the Teller to take it back. And this indemnification - any idea what form it takes? Or can only he tell me that."

With the last sentence Erik tips his head toward the Dark Teller.

[Mornings]

---

---

Main Quest: My Father Will Guide Me Up A Ladder To The Sky
The future was bleak. Awakening from the dream, Kazik and Erik woke to find a tragic broken world. With countless memories and years lost between them, the realization of the cruelty delivered by the magics employed against them finally begins to sink in. It was a malice beyond words, and loss beyond comprehension, where not even the awareness of it was allowed to persist... Only the emptiness. The depravity of the void which had slain every passion, every dream, every inspiration and moment that could be treasured by a mortal heart. The men they had been were dead now, in perhaps a far truer sense than any corpse could know. In some men's hearts burned the vengeance of the crippled and the wronged. In others rose the courage to let go. There were no easily won truths reclaimed from this blighted and wild dark. Here there were no words and no thoughts which escaped its thieving hand.
Difficulty: Moderate | Status: On-going | Profit: Unknown | Time: None
Primary Objective: Return to Ashurbanipal (Complete)
Alternate Objective: Return to the Veil
Primary Objective: Find the Librarian (Complete)
Primary Objective: Speak with The Dark Teller

---

22nd of Neth, Sunday | Time: 11:30 pm | AR 4713 (Winter)
Otherworld; L'Zho-Kenna, The Betwixt
L'Izz'tssa, The Passages; Ashurbanipal - L'Tulus D'Isto, The Hall of Night

The old man nodded at Erik's first comment. That about summed it up. As he questioned the specifics of the indemnification process, the Librarian pushed off from the desk, gesturing to the side. "Hm. Follow me, Lord Ragnok... There is much to be discussed regarding compensation." Turning away the venerable old man waddled toward a massive black descending spiral staircase, leading the mercenary down until they reached an area protruding from the stairs, though the walkway itself continued its descent. The Librarian walked out unto the massive veranda. Various tables lay about the gallery, all carved from the same highly polished black marble and adorned with small glowing flowers in their center.

"The Teller is mute, not deaf. Better to discuss business elsewhere." The old man found a seat at the largest table. "Lord Ragnok, having come here. You have found yourself as the Lord of Ashurbanipal. This is your domain to rule. But the management of a Passage is far unlike that of a kingdom, and holds many unique complexities. The Passages are vastly important realms of power to all the universes. If the Mados would be compared to the mint producing coin... The cosmic tender of the universes. Then the Passages would be compared to the market which that tinder is traded... All the Passages are closed now, Lord Ragnok. Thus, you find yourself at the head of a historic event. Steering the course of a 'market' for all worlds. The Dark Teller, is as its name implies, the literal 'teller' of all such exchanges and offerings between the Mados and the denizens of the various worlds. He absolutely must maintain a presence here, at least until another Passage is opened, so that he may serve his purpose within this network of exchanges. A right which you, as Lord of Ashurbanipal could deny... Do you understand what I'm saying?"

The wily old man took a quick measure of Erik's ability to follow the conversation. "Your current circumstance is unfortunate... As you've given the Teller a powerful card to play against us. However, we are not without leverage. We possess a number of powerful cards in our hand as well. The first is the Terms of Stay. Surely he should not be allowed to persist in our realm unconditionally... The second is the Terms of Exchange. This is our Passage, no exchange performed in our domain should be without a manner of tax. The third... and perhaps most important, is our own compensation. Compensation for the damages his relocation has already caused in our domain. This flood that's swept through our realm is the doings of the Mados. The Lapus, ehm... The animal creatures you've seen, they are assisting us in moving massive amounts of parchment and books which were scheduled for disposal. We must sacrifice it instead to prevent the Mados from causing further harm to the Library until it has settled."

The Librarian wove his fingers together while placing his elbows on the table, leaning forward, suddenly more serious. "The cost of your indemnification will likely be immensely expensive... No less than a million fragments." Erik didn't know what a 'fragment' was, but a million was a big number, even in silver... and they were talking about what was effectively money. "As we're speaking about an exchange of currency manufactured from raw energy, allow me to explain in equivalents from your world. A single 'fragment' is a small amount of processed and pure energy without any impurity, a valuable token which can only be created by the Mados. If a spellcaster were to gather two-hundred-and-fifty fragments, they would possess enough energy to perfectly cast any first-tier spell from any magical discipline. Thus, a million fragments would be equivalent to something close to four-thousand perfect spells..."

There was a long pause, the old man let that nauseating value sink in for a moment. "Fortunately, the amount we are owed shouldn't be anything less than half of this same value. It would be impossible for a typical mortal to acquire sufficient energy to offer the Mados as indemnification, but as a Lord of a Passage... The only Passage, mind you. It's no exaggeration to call you a wildly wealthy mortal. I'm sure a number of intellectuals from the other worlds will attempt to win your favor, or court you. It is not as advantageous a position as it could have been without your blighted hand, but we should still be more than capable of getting ahead if you use these cards wisely..."

"First thing's first though. Take that rug off your arm and offer the Teller your hand. 'I return what I took', or something along those lines, should be good enough."

[Stevesciguy]

Erik nodded his head as the old man finished. He thought back to the pale blue shield he'd instinctively conjured in Willowbrook. 4000... a lifetime of those. Valuable indeed.

"So we can use economic incentives as recompense. Not... quite what I was expecting, but better than some of the alternatives. But before we go back up - I'm not a stranger to economics. I've handled gold and silver, negotiated contracts and the like. I can somewhat grasp the relative value of these fragments, or that being the key holder to the only 'marketplace' for these fragments is itself valuable.

But I've no idea of the true worth. You suggest that the recompense you're owed would cover half of my indemnification. Would allowing access be worth the other half? How does levying taxes work in a place such as this? I can't afford to insult the Teller with a low offer, but I don't want to fall on my own sword by giving him everything."

[Deadguy]

Regina
Ghost in the Machine

Regina stood for a moment, simply attempting to fathom what her next actions should be. Something the priest had said lingered with her.

"You mentioned payment using energy gathered from dreams... what does this energy look like?" She had certainly experienced memories or dreams of someone else while in the snow. "I ask because I believe I have experienced such already."

She looked between the trail and the sealed stone entrance into the mountain. "Collecting this energy is the way to freedom?"

[Chromascope3D]

Kazik
The Hanging Men

The masked man had been following and listening with some half interest, but, at the moment, was more concerned with some more degree on introspection. He understood not half of what was being said anyway. He understood not the nature of the Origin that had been mentioned, and yet, he could feel something. Some intuition began to creep through his mind, as he felt something grow deep, deep within the pit of his gut. Something new, something immense. For the first time in his life, he could feel something pure within his self, within the roiling black sea of coils beneath the flesh. But while pure, it was not serene either. It was raw, informed. Protean, yet immensely strong. What was this?

Kazik flexed his long-scarred hand, taking renewed interest in the organic machinery that allowed them to stretch and bend as they found strength in a new source. Finally, he interjected.

"What is this 'Oculus?' Why did you call me that?"

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Sense Motive: (1d20+11)[29]

Spoiler: Stats

Show

Kazik
Human Sentinel (Darkness Defender) LN
Scorn 14
Focus Points: 6/10
Deathsense: 9/10
Reserve Points 5/5
Martial Focus Yes
HP 92 / 92 [13 nonlethal] Speed ft Init 8 AC 22 Fort 10 Ref 9 Will 8 [2] CMB +10 BAB 5 +1 Chain Whip +13 (+11) (1d3+8 (1d3+12) {+10}, x2)
Throwing Knives +12 (1d4+2, x2)
Dagger +12 (+10) (1d4+2, 19-20/x2) Str 20 (5) Dex 24 (7) Con 16 (3) Wis 16 (3) [5 (-3)]Int 14 (2) Cha 9 (-1)
Boons
Martial Focus

Conditions

[Mornings]

The holy-man tilted his head as Regina spoke before finally raising a hand to interject. "You seem to misunderstand, Ms. Artel. Make the distinction now, it is not 'energy gathered from dreams'. It is 'memories gathered throughout the dreams'. Your previous experiences likely have no bearing on your current circumstances, or you'd have something material to show for it. The Far Place is one of the many fallen Nightmare Worlds beyond. All of the places you might navigate, including this one, are part of the various lesser Dreamworlds. They are similar to the the Inner and Outer Sphere in the cosmology of your own universe, in a way. But make no mistake, Ms. Artel. You are in a dream now, but one you cannot wake from... As you body has been utterly destroyed. All that remains of you presently is the definition of your own conscious mind and ego. Should both or either fail, then you will truly die."

After a moment the man slid off his hat to shake off the snow which had begun to collect upon his head. The man's gray cloudy eyes seemed to stare off into nothing with an almost serene expression, his hairless face and skull seeming even more sharp and jagged. The once more, the cap obscured his features. "There are different forms of tinder you may gather and exchange. As I have said, memories are the common currency here. You may exchange your own... With care. Or harvest it from other sources in the Dreamworlds. You are an imaginary creature now, Ms. Artel. Just like all things you see. Existing only in the consciousness of great beings you cannot understand. Memory is what suffuses us, and makes more defined our existence. When that is lost, we are forgotten, and thus we are no more. I'm not sure where the notion of 'memories is energy' came to your mind... But this is perhaps a more correct perspective in a sense. Though there is simple... force as force, a condensed and pure refinement of the memory we all so desperately pursue. You have no access to it. Memory cannot be refined by even the greatest entities who rule this plane. Instead memory is traded for such things. This 'pure energy' cannot be found haphazardly, it doesn't fall from trees and the innards of beasts. There is only one force in all the spans of universes known and unknown, which can create such a processed flawless manifestation of raw and perfect force.... And it isn't here."

"Thus, like the rest of us. You must collect memories. In the Dreamworlds this is a universal currency, which is manifest as Aetheric Dust. Grains of crystal sand. Each grain is one small bit of memory, though that is nearly without value alone. These grains, often called 'aether sand', can be exchanged for Dust of the Empire, but the value of a single grain of True Dust is worth greater than two-and-a-quarter million grains of aether sand. It does vary by who performs the exchange, but only in values greater than that. True Dust grants powers to Dream Creatures simply by possessing it. It is a symbol of status and nobility as it can only be created by the Nightmare King... Energy itself is traded as 'fragments', or 'shards'. These can appear as crystal tokens, or other unusual pieces of glass. Three grains of aether sand is equivalent to a single fragment. Two-hundred-and-fifty fragments is enough to create a perfect basic spell in any arcane vocation, though a 'perfect spell' would perhaps be closer to something altered with metamagical properties in your home. So I suppose this would be quite powerful for the average wizard in your world."

The cleric paused for a moment at the girl's last words, "Hm... 'freedom'? From what. You're dead. You are a denizen of the Dreamworlds now. You could technically navigate other Dreamworlds, if you survived the climb out from the bowels of the Far Place and other Nightmare Worlds. But... 'free', is somewhat subjective now. As you have no body, you cannot return to the Wake. The 'waking worlds' of the material and real. At least not without a form for your ego to inhabit. If that is what is 'free' to you, then you could perhaps arrange something. Regardless, money is life. Its options. It's the resource you'll need regardless of your goal, simply to continue to exist. Over time, your body will naturally decay. Thus, you have no choice but to gather dust, at least to buy yourself some time. The impoverished live with mere minutes of life on their clock, while the wealthy are immortal lords of the Dreamworlds."

"The most important factor is what your are attempting to achieve, and how you intend to harvest sufficient dust. You could just as well go about and try to kill everything you see to steal its essence, but countless mindless creatures do the same. Beasts more dangerous than you. I offer a number of services to aide those spirits whom find themselves here, but there are also a number of entities which do the same... Though, it is critical to note, that all entities whom dwell in the Far Place are vile things. You accept the risk should you choose to have any dealings with them, rather than a guide."

Spoiler: Critical Note: Forbidden Knowledge

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Knowledge (Forbidden) is one of the most useful unique skills in the game, but also the absolute most dangerous ability a player character can utilize when performed outside of a very specific set of conditions, including the aid of numerous Potentials. Each time a PC attempts to utilize this skill without the protective features of other Potentials, they run a chance of acquiring a 'Corrupted Fate'. These conditions are a form of Curse which can potentially bestow numerous profane and crippling effects, but will in addition alter all quests and objectives the character possesses and can receive - permanently. The effects of a Corrupted Fate can be resolved by discovering and accomplishing the unique conditions associated with it. These conditions are always extremely severe, and may require an entire campaign-length undertaking to complete; stealing precious time which could be spent on other objectives.

Regardless of the result of the %dice in determining if such a status is received, the character receives a number of points of Spite, and possesses a very high chance of incurring a Divergence or critical alteration, which may impose its own unique consequences, depending on the circumstances. The percent of such events occurring caps at 100% upon the third use. A character may only utilize Knowledge (Forbidden) unprotected three times throughout the entity of the game. Upon exceeding this number of uses, the current character is immediately slain after the skill's resolution. This ability kills all iterations of a character simultaneously, but is specific to the identity which activated the ability and does not extend past Reflected Personas. This effect cannot be prevented by any source. Slain character's cannot be returned to life, including from such Potentials as Lesser Immortality.

Spoiler: Status

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֍ Regina +1000 (29,100xp)
HP 52/53 (1 divine cold dmg)
AC 19
⯎ Nobility Influence Gained
⯎ Deception Influence Gained
⯎ Trickery Influence Gained
⯎ Discovery Influence Gained
⯎ Magic Influence Gained
⯎ Secrets Influence Gained
⯎ Knowledge Influence Gained
⯎ Truth Influence Gained
⯎ Tapestry Influence Gained
⯎ Time Influence Gained
⯎ Dimensions Influence Gained
⯎ Fate Influence Gained
⯎ Vision Influence Gained
⯎ Light Influence Gained
⯎ Stability Influence Gained
⯎ Cold Influence Gained
⯎ Worlds Influence Gained
⯎ Death Influence Gained
⯎ Black Influence Gained
⯎ Red Influence Gained
⯎ Reflections Influence Gained
⯎ Darkness Influence Gained
⯎ Stars Influence Gained
⯎ Reality Influence Gained
⯎ Nuisance Influence Gained
⯎ Seeker Influence Gained
⯎ Forbidden Influence Gained
⯎ Planes Influence Gained
⯎ Delusion Influence Gained
⯎ Omens Influence Gained
⯎ Wandering Influence Gained
⯎ Stranded Influence Gained
⯎ Worlds Influence Gained
⯎ Real Influence Gained
⯎ Stranded Influence Gained
⯎ Ghosts Influence Gained
⯎ Entities Influence Gained
⯎ Passage Influence Gained
⯎ Realms Influence Gained
⯎ Essence Influence Gained
⯎ Existence Influence Gained

[Triskavanski]

Sheet

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"Well you see I am the magnificent Faux Paw. And that is I. I very much would not like to be eaten by whatever this thing is, and I suppose it might be a good thing I'm rather Ego-tistical about all this. He says following after her. Felt like that was all that he was doing lately was just following people. But for the moment he didn't have much more to go on.

[Mornings]

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Main Quest: My Father Will Guide Me Up A Ladder To The Sky
The future was bleak. Awakening from the dream, Kazik and Erik woke to find a tragic broken world. With countless memories and years lost between them, the realization of the cruelty delivered by the magics employed against them finally begins to sink in. It was a malice beyond words, and loss beyond comprehension, where not even the awareness of it was allowed to persist... Only the emptiness. The depravity of the void which had slain every passion, every dream, every inspiration and moment that could be treasured by a mortal heart. The men they had been were dead now, in perhaps a far truer sense than any corpse could know. In some men's hearts burned the vengeance of the crippled and the wronged. In others rose the courage to let go. There were no easily won truths reclaimed from this blighted and wild dark. Here there were no words and no thoughts which escaped its thieving hand.
Difficulty: Moderate | Status: On-going | Profit: Unknown | Time: None
Primary Objective: Return to Ashurbanipal (Complete)
Alternate Objective: Return to the Veil
Primary Objective: Find the Librarian (Complete)
Primary Objective: Speak with The Dark Teller

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22nd of Neth, Sunday | Time: 11:29 pm | AR 4713 (Winter)
Otherworld; L'Zho-Kenna, The Betwixt
L'Izz'tssa, The Passages; Ashurbanipal - The Towers

The Librarian seemed to become more attentive after Erik's questions, sighing as he sunk back into the chair. The man was difficult to read, but the mercenary imagined it was more a sign of relief that his new 'lord' wasn't some incompetent fool. "Indeed, you raise a fair point. Though it's important to make certain distinctions now... This is recompense owed to you. While the library might be small and broken, this is your hall. I have simply served as its caretaker in the absence of its true master, now I can serve my true purpose as its administrator. Set the tone during negotiations, don't let him make light of you and downplay your own authority or he'll use it against you."

"The various agreements which have yet to be settled, can indeed be used as weighty incentives to bring the Teller to the table... But it's a vary difficult thing to truly weigh the value those incentives might hold. It's something between an estimate, and a gamble. Neither the Teller, nor you can actually know how profitable your deal today might be. But we can look at the facts and project a rough idea... But the key to this deal, is establishing your own worth - creating the appearance of a worthy long-term investment."

The old man stroked his beard, deep in thought as he spoke. "Generally, or rather, traditionally... It has been the Swallowfeld Children whom have controlled the Passages, or at least opened them. Of the Three, your companion is an Aspirant of the Oculus. A potential candidate to become one of these three chosen souls. No other Passages have been opened, and no other Aspirants or otherwise have emerged, in... a very long time. You can imagine this to be three individuals, whom historically control all of the Passages. The title comes with many other merits, but for the purpose of this discussion, that's your focus. You can leverage that to create the illusion of reliability and stability in both your earning potential via a wealthy domain, and even claiming other Passages. It doesn't matter that you have no idea what you're doing, or that you've only heard of this 'strange title' three-seconds ago. You just need to sell the deception. Besides, with no other Aspirants known of, who is there to compete with? It's a wonderful card to play and substantiate a claim that you'll inevitably 'own' things you don't. Promissory stipulations in your proposed contract and whatnot... Such as favorable rates for the next Passage you claim, to curb the immediate offers you'll present for the thing you actually own today. Obviously, these will need to be very lucrative to maintain any allure and buy his patience, but it's just a gamble for him, while we suffer no immediate loss. If you do acquire another Passage, by then our foundation will be solidified and the loss will be minimal."

"The metrics behind the value of how much certain rates would be profitable almost completely depends on how long you can maintain a stranglehold on the market. That is to say, how long you can prevent Lords of other Passages from emerging. The holder of the Key is the only Lord. If you desire to acquire ownership, you must ensure no others physically claim another Key, or if they do... They must take the white door. I recommend keeping the Key's secret close to your chest. If you cannot prevent another from touching it before you... Convince them to take the door, thus abdicating their claim, though the claim will be passed based on the conditions of the Key... Often allowing the first of those present who take it to gain ownership. Though, never forget that those present have all earned the right to compete for the claim... The Ancient Lords would often battle in the Stasis after the Key was won. The victor, reclaiming the relic from the bodies of his rivals. Every deception is allowed until the moment the Key is carried through the black door. After which, all living participants become Reclaimers, while the chosen becomes the Lord..."

"If you can defend your claim as the only Lord for... at least five years, your value will skyrocket. Each year the average total from exchanges which takes place during standard and typical trade, equates to four-and-a-quarter-million fragments in profit. Solely from the rates of exchange you establish. Similarly the Teller also profits from his service. It's traditional to demand a fixed amount for his stay, usually around two-hundred-and-fifty thousand shards for the year, and a tax of fifteen percent of his profit. Normally the Teller will earn close to one-and-a-half million before these deductions, so we end up taking the 'half'. This is profit only from actual exchanges of currency, not even counting other services, but in most cases this is usually the bulk of your earnings. If we're the only Passage, than we can suitably increase the rates of exchange. This means a greater general income. Because of that, I would recommend leveraging potential earnings rather than trying to lean solely on offered incentives. What rates we do offer shouldn't be a flat indefinite thing, but an initial 'steal', whose value is lost over time. Perhaps over five years, as to further sell the prospect of long term investments and decrease what we actually offer within this Passage. Though, regardless the critical initial decrease in immediate incentives should come within three years, just on case."

"If you wanted to offer a very compelling deal, you could reduce the charge for his occupation to fifty-thousand, and reduce the tax from exchanges to seven-and-a-half percent... for the first year. Its everyone's assumption that no new Passage will open during the next year, so just these incentives are worth somewhere between three-hundred-and-twenty-five thousand, or perhaps five-and-a-half. If you present an offer like this, then there's no need for promises regarding future Passages. Even with the incentives decreased the following year, he'll have made something in excess of his initial million regardless... This should be your fall back, unless you simply have no intention to haggle."


The old man finally finished rambling on, laying out his mad scheme. After pausing briefly, his eyes scrolled back up to the large platform from which they had descended, a thought coming into his mind. "We shouldn't be away for too long. Leaving your companion with the Teller may be a poor idea, in the interest of our pending arrangements... Wouldn't want him winning the Oculus over before we even bring that trickster to the table."

[Deadguy]

Regina
Ghost in the Machine

Regina tilted her head slightly, listening to his explanation of her current situation. Her arms folded across her chest. A small smirk broke on her lips as he concluded. The smirk became a laugh. A cold, cruel sound.

"It's no different. No different at all. Even in the Wake, my body was not mine. I'm more whole now than before." She looked out toward the path. "Money is life. No matter the dimension, plane, universe... whatever. Those that have and those that have not. I would even be so bold as to hypothesize those that have Aetheric Dust would pay servants with it. Hire those with skills to remove difficult situations or creatures that threaten their existence. Adventurers."

She looked back to the priest. "Are there even villages and towns within the Far Place, where sentients gather, or do I begin hunting the wild things until I can pay the toll to move into a different dreamworld?"