The Primeval Dark - The Immeasurable Spiral (IC)

[Mornings]

He Hated This Familiar Feeling

Racing out across black skies he plummeted through dark burning clouds which drowned out all light. The acrid stench from a world on fire and countless plumes of billowing smoke hundreds of miles long filled his lungs with the bite of tar. Falling through the heavens, the smoke gave way to burning acidic storms. The condensation within the clouds had become liquid fire, viciously peeling back the psychic ‘skin’ of his body, like being submerged in a torturer's vat of acidulous slime. With each passing moment he fell, the horrors mounted.

Cutting a cloudy swathe with his body in the descent, his form hit a gout of roiling poisonous gas. The bank of dense semi-liquid hydrogen sulfide churned him through a blender of freezing blades; lashed by the hands of the storm. His throat closed and his eyes burned and bulged as his immortal luminous body seized and convulsed in freefall. Past the blackness, the burning storms and poison air, the world finally emerged. Its voice was the roar of ashen squalls and gunfire.

Far below, amid the ash-rain and poison air, the long broken freeway raced through the toppled corpses of skyscrapers. A man stood atop the remains of a massive and ancient transport cruiser, a mammoth truck nearly twenty feet in height and ninety feet long. It was flipped, melted and blasted in half by some manner of particle-weapon long ago. Now it was only a moss-covered grave marking some battle no one was left to remember.

From on high, perched atop the gutted vehicle, Fredrik racked the charging handle of the massive weapon. Like many of the Cheisha peoples conscripted into service, the weapon had a name. He called the lumbering fix-foot long dyne machine-rifle, ‘Emiliana’, because it sounded attractive and mysterious. His arms strained to bring the great gun to bear, as his companions dashed through the opening of the split truck. Even with the mechanical servo-arm keeping the weapon to bear, it was nearly a hundred pounds empty. He couldn’t see through the ash-snow but the neurological feed from his goggles revealed the forms of his enemies outlined in digital red shade. A gout of exhaled air wafted off from his respirator as he braced himself and slowly squeezed the trigger.

Calamitous ruin. World-shaking cacophony. It was only a short burst, as the weighty hextuple barrels cycled once. The pulse of the hyper-dense molten Brix ammunition was too quick to be seen. There was only a flash and clap of light as the atmosphere crashed back to fill the void of vaporized particulate matter. More red shapes. Fredrik pulled the trigger again. Another crash as the world seemed to collapse and tremble. The thick steel sheets shook and buckled beneath his feet. Even the air trembled as if twisted by the heat of a mirage, vibrating visibly to the naked eye.

Below, the senior officer of their detachment crossed the threshold, wounded by an earlier attack, though spared any serious damage thanks to his Cimmerian dampening suit. ‘Carver’, if that even was his real name, was the Accuser assigned command over this mission, and he was the only one learned in dealing with the many corruptions of this place. Below Fredrik could hear his superior yelling at him. Specialist Kædda was the most experienced rifleman of any of the Imperial Rifle companies as a conscript. Yet, he couldn’t pry himself away, his eyes were locked upon those strange shapes racing towards them. He had to see it. He had to.

Then he did. The chill numbness running up his spine didn’t stop his finger from rhythmically depressing the trigger without pause. It was too late. He could hear Kædda screaming for him to run, but they would never make it. What they had believed to be hostile natives and rebels was anything but. The shapes were roughly humanoid, glassy black stones, twisting and hurtling at them. The diagnostic service within his visual display recorded their average speed at nearly sixty miles per hour. Occasionally a twisted bloody limb or fleshy appendage would show itself dangling and grinding amid the roil of human stones. He held down the trigger. The ‘floor’ collapsed beneath him sending him falling through the old car's cabin, but he didn’t cease his assault. The decimating gunfire disintegrated the vehicle as he plummeted, until finally reaching the ground. He gunned his way through the truck, stepping out just as the belt was depleted.

Suddenly a woman’s hand snapped out and grabbed Erik’s face. Her silver hair danced lightly upon an unnatural wind. "Ashurbanipal isn’t welcome here, you cur. Go find your own fun!” Violently she smashed his head against the invisible wall of reality. The thin sheet dividing the white from the black. The veil he now struggled to navigate and circumvent. He crumbled back into the familiar dark.

Otherworld, Lesser Ashurbanipal
L’Chandal, The Crucible
Winter AR 4716, 12th of Calistril,
Fireday, 9:41 AM

"Oh my, who was that?" The woman's soft flippant voice asked, bemused. "...That, sister, was Cas'Haphel." The younger woman's soft complexion screwed up inquisitively, "You mean Caus'fel? I didn't know she had taken residence within N'Tallos." The stern voice of the faceless woman standing off to the side sharply interjected, "Nor... Did I. Are you playing games with me, sister?" The Witch who had identified the mysterious figure cleared her throat before adjusted the enormous brim of her hat. Her first words were addressed to her soft-spoken 'sister'. "She doesn't use that name anymore." She shifted uncomfortably before answering the faceless woman, "I assure you, sister. It was no trick. Certainly we could not have know she was hiding there. Who knows what trouble she's brewed." The older woman sighed, perhaps in frustration.

It has been years since he had begun this life with his captors. The roughly, eighty foot long room was all that remained of the great library that was once Ashurbanipal. Erik had not seen the old Librarian in what felt like a very long time. It felt like it had been a lifetime. He was a very different man now, and it was difficult to even recall the whole ordeal. So much had happened all at once, but now, everything was so very simple. The woman with a soft voice clutched his hand. "I’m sorry, was that too much? If it's too much, I promise to end it quickly. You won’t suffer." The young woman who was smiling at him, and leisurely offered him a mercy killing, was E’Dene Kathe, a ‘Justice’ of Kathe, and youngest of the three. Erik understood that the term was very much how he imagined, and she served as some manner of supreme judge - though on a planar, or perhaps even dimensional level. Despite her charm and pleasant demeanor, she was the most extreme personality in the room and had advocated for his death since they had met; as she continued still today.

"I apologize for the unexpected development. Next time we’ll try for something less, exotic." The knowledgeable woman with the absurdly sized wizardly hat was Se’Jaine Kathe, Justice of Kathe. Unlike E’Dene, she instead advocated for his imprisonment, rather than his death, believing that Erik could, as Passage Lord, still provide some merit to his continued existence. Though, she remained committed to the notion that he remained too dangerous to be allowed to roam free.

The faceless woman was the oldest of the three. She wore a similarly large hat to Se’Jaine, but the brim seemed to always adjust itself by its own volition to cover her face. Her name was Esk’Jola Kathe, Justice of Kathe, and she was the supreme authority between all of them. They each were donned in elaborate, but distinct robes and wore great hats fashioned like a witch. He knew now that held some significance.

Shortly after he had returned with the recovered fragment of the Key to Midnight, Esk’Jola had stormed into reality. The Justice had destroyed Ashurbanipal with a sweep of her wand and sealed them inside. It was then the other two had appeared as well. He could still make out the old man’s face as he silently screamed something from across the vacuum of dissolution. He kept replaying those final moments in his mind when the stress mounted. He wished he could understand it. He wished he could know just what he’d said. The painful ringing in his ears returned, making him clutch his head to steady himself and fight off the sensation.

He’d never thought he’d come to miss being berated by the old man. How quickly it had all come crashing down. Now it was just he, his captors, and this box. This chamber and its four walls. Yes, there was some amenities. The kitchen never seemed to deplete its stores, and the fire of the heath always burned without kindling, but where was the wind. The taste of salt carried by a stiff sea breeze. Where was the scent of flowers or the musk of the rain. His windowless world was a prison without meaningful bounds. There was no door, no windows, and no world beyond it. There was only the white. He could see past his prison each time he released himself from his fleshy cage. Even the tortuous torments wrought upon himself when his planar trips turned for the worse were preferable to the cage.

For the first few months he’d been locked away without explanation. They did not speak Taldane, or any tongue he could understand, and their sense of time was evidently skewed by their own timelessness. He was a defendant without representation within a trial he could not understand, and other than being present, went largely unnoticed; save for being magically bound to a seat. There he wasted away. Unable to eat, unable to sleep, unable to speak, unable to even relieve himself… though he suffered through all such needs and pains. His body ached, he lost feeling in his arse days ago, and he wilted. It was as if he had returned to his cell in Willowbrook, or something far worse. The mostly silent debate seemed to primarily be waged via some telepathic means, or perhaps magical ones. Though at times one would speak out spiritedly with words he did not know. Perhaps for an immortal being only spending a few months talking over a decision for his trail was remarkably quick. For him though, it was a horrid eternity in waiting. It wasn’t until the eldest firmly beat her wand-clenched fist on the table twice like a gavel with the same gesture which had set the ordeal in motion, that he knew it was finally drawing to a close. Unexpectedly, the resolution was to train him, albeit, from within his new cell.

At first he had been treated very sternly, and Justice E’Dene was evidently bitter that he had not been put to death. So much so, he hadn’t even learned her name until after the first year of his incarceration. During that first year, he had not been offered any answers. He was merely forced to comply with whatever demands were made of him, as they cast his soul across the far and nameless holes of the multiverse. Slowly, learning to control his powers. Eventually, they begun to speak to him. Not in meaningful words, but with a projection of their meaning. It was much the same way now. Whatever reality shaping spells they commanded simply created a projection which his senses could interpret and understand, though he was well aware that the truth beneath the surface was something alien and strange which he could not even begin to comprehend. At least right now, he didn’t need the truth. Reality was too far beyond him to understand. But these figments, these ‘ghosts’ and their words - that was something he could understand, and it made the world feel a little bit less strange; like he possessed some small semblance of control or understanding of his own sense of the world and those things which he perceived.

Since then, he had been made to endure endless and grueling training, all while being watched hawkishly. Thankfully, his captors at least now traded some words and might even hold a conversation. He knew so little. Who they were or why they had come. Why was this even happening to him? He had only gleaned pieces in the years since. They were of a godly race, whose name he couldn’t even begin to pronounce, but that could be simplified by merely calling that group of races a ‘Witch’. It was a being, somewhat akin to a magical beast, but one of pure unbridled energy. Timeless and ancient. They did not understand mortals, or mortal needs, for they had never been of his kind. A Justice was supreme even amongst their kin. The guilty were made so by the whims of these Judges and held no rights beyond what a Justice might deign to grant them. There was no evidence, no argument, no defense or legal recourse. The ruling of a Justice was righteous and absolute. Erik had no idea if such beings could procreate, or if ‘siblings’ held the same meaning to him as it might to them. Perhaps they were all created from the same source, and thus all related to some degree, but they did share some visual similarities.

All he knew was that he had to either earn their trust, or win his freedom, because there was no escape to be found. Se’Jaine seemed to resonate closest with what Erik might associate with more recognizable values of ‘law’ within his own, small, simple mortal values. While she seemed reasonable, and sought to keep E’Dene from putting him to death, she remained convinced that he should remain imprisoned forever. Of the three though, she appeared the most easy to convince with rational thinking and logic. Strangely, the next easiest seemed to be E’Dene herself. She remained vehement that he must be executed, but was also the most communicative. The young woman did not allow him out from under her palm, quite literally. He was fortunate if she did not have one hand on his shoulder goading him. He couldn’t sleep, bathe or even take a sheit without the woman looming over him. At first Erik wasn’t certain if the godlings simply had no sense of privacy or personal space, but he had come to learn the behavior was limited to her. Though, the Witches did not need to eat, sleep or wash, nor did they excrete waste. A simple flick of a wand and any soiled garments or dirt was purged. He couldn’t be sure just how an immortal who never slept before might view a mortal’s needs, but he was certain her behavior was abnormal. Unlike the others, she seemed to be more emotionally motivated.

The senior Justice, Esk’Jola was the one who ultimately advocated for Erik to instead be trained, rather than killed or locked away forever. However, despite her fairness. She was distant, stern, generally unfriendly and curt if she spoke at all. It was a rare thing if she entertained a question from him. The circumstances were only worsened by her expressions being impossible to read. He couldn’t even gauge a reaction with how her face was hidden behind her hat and he couldn’t even begin to understand her rationale or the decisions she reached, regardless if it was beneficial to him or not. He was certain she would become the largest hurdle to cross if he was to earn his freedom. Despite the great burden of his imprisonment, he had come to learn a greater degree of control of his powers.

His ‘lordly’ authority was largely tied to the sizable black book which now lay open on the table. With it, he was capable of traversing far flung worlds and even contextualizing them; understanding things which he should not be able to. It was a taxing affair, but it sharpened his mind and honed his skill in manipulating his formless body to explore the cosmos. Thus far, he had only been allowed to travel where the Witches told him to, as his visits were curated by his jailors.


[SOUL POTENTIAL] LORD OF ASHURBANIPAL: COSMIC LAW - A WORLD WITHOUT LIES
Prerequisite: Lord of Ashurbanipal
By the divine ruling of the Houses of the Third World, no creature was permitted to speak falsely to the Lord of Passages.

Within Ashurbanipal and all realms and Passages which he rules, any non-divine entity is forbidden from speaking falsely. Mundane or mortal creatures cannot resist this effect. Mythic entities who possess a number of HD less than 10 x the Lord of Passage’s HD are similarly affected. Regardless, the Lord of Ashurbanipal always benefits from a unique sense in any world, allowing him to detect potential verbal sleights, half-truths, willfully omitted facts, alterations of the truth, and plain lies during any conversation others directly hold with him. To use this sense he must attempt a sense motive check. The result is always treated as if it were a standard check, but gaining an untyped +80 bonus. While he likely will not learn the specifics upon a successful check, the Lord becomes aware of the attempt to deceive him and may glean a measure of their intent.

Creatures affected by this ability which attempt to lie to the Lord of Passages within a realm he rules violate this Cosmic Law, and he immediately becomes aware of this action. As a free action which may be taken at any time, the Lord may choose to punish such a violator as long as he does so within 1 hour of the violation. The Lord may decide to take any of the following actions to punish a lawbreaker; Impart 1d10 points of spite. Lower the lawbreaker by one existential-phase, or banish the criminal from any and all ruling domains and Passages for any length of time.

If the Lord of Passages cannot enforce the law of his realms against proven violators, punishment may instead be dealt by an Enforcer, a representative of the Third World, or a Justice of Black. There is a chance this may even influence creatures normally immune to the effects of this Potential. The Lord of Passages cannot be destroyed by non-divine entities within Ashurbanipal.

The Lord of Passages must always take this [Soul] Potential for any subsequent Aspect characters he may create. He gains 1 additional HD, and full class progression of the Godling PrC, even if he does not meet the prerequisites. This class progression is separate from his current class levels and equal to his current highest class level. If he only possesses one form of class progression, he becomes a Gestalt character. If he already benefits from Gestalt progression, he instead becomes a Tristalt Character (if he is already a Tristalt, this benefit advances to the next most appropriate progression). This class progression path may not be multiclassed.


[ASHURBANIPAL, POTENTIAL] BLACK BOOK - DREAMING PASSAGES
Prerequisite: Lord of Ashurbanipal Potential Path
The Lord of Ashurbanipal may impart the Essence of Dreams to any Passage or realm he rules at no cost. Such realms gain the ‘Dreaming’ property and benefit from any effect which would be available in a dreamscape or Nightmare World. The Lord of Passages may dismiss this property from a realm he occupies as a full round action, or from any realm he controls while accessing the Black Book as a free action. Any dream-creatures and entities which could not persist in the realm without this effect are banished to their native plane. The Lord’s wisdom ability score increases by 4.

[Mornings]

All bent and twisted within the pale monochrome of the colorless world.
All voices were the Crown's.
The voice of the One.

Whirling within her gorged-out inners swelled the newborn swell of the black. An infantile gloom growing within the fathomless well of her womb. This body, this frivolous shell, was pale cracked porcelain flesh stretched over the infinite. The vastness of the Pale. The gray frothing coil of degenerative mists of Gapp. The night-terrors and faceless churls of stolen minds and every abandoned dream. Every relinquished hope. Every resolve which had ever shed some unfulfilled passion. Oh, such great and nameless grief, the timeless death of dreams and aspirations before the hopeless and colorless pall of gray. Her name was Despair, and she would be such a tender, sweat beast. The ravenous claws without form, savaging all life to feed the Pale City. Within the ever turning cycle of expanse and collapse, her might spoke with the voice of calamitous cosmic rays beckoning the death of stars. Her's was the a rule absolute, and upon her sempiternal brow rested the thousand-fold corpses of all realities unfit before the truth the House of Black would create. A crown of ebon darkness, a hole of the dissolute and unmade, ravaged by the Great Unraveller. An icon of the boundless and eternal power of the Unsung King-

Stella blinked a few times blankly. She was back. Her hands were hands, and her feet were feet. No longer suspended from the ground by her powerful veil. The last twinkling sparkle of herself faded upon the ground like dust. The Reflected Aspect of Alicia was no more, and she was left changed. Her hair had grown long and lost all color, leaving only an aged silver-white. There was chatter spoken in an old Vet'cnros dialect, but the words were distorted... muddled, as if she had lost the magical aptitude to even interpret her own mother-tongue.

The conversation paused. Then, from out somewhere beyond what she could see in the lightless void a familiar voice spoke out. "Oh... Well that was. Quick. I had expected. You. Would be gone. Longer." It was still the same language, which she should have understood, but she could feel it. She no longer possessed the divine spark of an immortal. This body was mortal, though her soul remained that of a Witch. The meaning of the words were evidently imparted by some manner of magic, but she couldn't even begin to guess just what it might be. It felt as if her brain had been lobotomized and just about everything she could functionally recall was running out of her ears. "Mayhap, one to quickly disappoint, but this time the fault lies not with her."

There was someone else present, though she could not see within the featureless dark smudge of the plane about her. She was simply a mortal now and lacked the capacity to perceive realms beyond the First World. Her lesser state left her feeling suddenly cold and vulnerable, knowing just how much more loomed out in the darkness, yet being powerless and blind to anything of significance. The second voice was familiar, tremendously so, like a distant memory. Like trying to recall the face of her dead mother, the moment in time was frozen and blurred. She knew it was important, so important, maybe the most important thing she could remember, but it just wouldn't come. "This time B'Belka. It is was poor timing of your own." Ah, realization in part. She remembered once again her current master, the Witch of Jun'athiel. There were not many people or beings within the Second World which could speak down to the Gran Hexe. "N'Tallos was not. A mistake. My herald would. Have been... Useful." "The Shadow Bohka... Perhaps distance would beget time, if you sought to give this stupid child agency. A perilous mistake. We know what's best. We should decide."

Though Stella could no longer see, her awareness of the Gran Hexe allowed her to 'feel' her presence. There was a pause, as if she were contemplating the stranger's words. "Is that how. You teach? What would you. Suggest?" There was a clink like a cup being sharply placed upon a ceramic plate. "At Aradia's request, I have mended the mess left within the Lower Spheres." Aradia... Lady Black, she remembered. "I've seen to it Valpurga will pose no immediate threat. Though this stupid child's meddling has liberated Nelrin from his custody under our Scion of Dark Seasons. I therefore cannot attest to how long the calm will persist. If however, you grant me leave as Keeper, I can settle those damages as well..." The response this time was more immediate, "No. No... Thank you. You and her... Are not much... Better. Please don't break... Anything else."

"Very well. In regards to the second matter at hand... Send her back to the Spheres. Make our position plain that we stand with the Mados and have nothing to hide. Choice is irrelevant. As Vet'Cnros, there is but one choice. So do make the correct one." Those last words sounded more like a veiled threat. There was evidently a profound difference in philosophy between the Gran Hexe and the stranger, though it perplexed her that she seemed to be well known to the faceless Witch.

[Mornings]

At first he had hidden himself.
Following the procession at a distance.

But the tombstones thinned and the old stones of the Mortfield Cemetery grew less in number as he wearily trailed behind. He understood quickly as each gathered in the heart of the graveyard. They had meant to leave this place. Miryks didn't know by what means it could be done, but he would not allow himself to be left stranded to waste away with the stones and empty graves. He watched them. Those things. Animals. Beasts and creatures of every stripe, gather and mill about as a great misshapen wolf of mutilated figure yapped madly from high above, perched on the roof of the stone gazebo at the cemetery's center. Its eyes were empty white lights, and coagulated sludgy ooze wept from every orifice and wound. The creature was a mockery of the lupine races, nearly four-horses in height, and five times as long, but little more than a rotten pelt loosely sewn to bones. It cackled and balked, yapped and bayed in guttural words the assassin did not understand. It lolled its head from side to side and barked and yelped rhythmically, seeming to set the parade into motion. They roared and cackled. Chirped and groaned. Creaked and snapped, and made all manner of horrible sounds to the wolf's beat. A dreadful song. A Nightmare Waltz.

Towering twisted roots of blackened living trees and monstrous frothing giants beat the earth in joyful dance, turning great circles about the gazebo led in some wretched chorus. Things without faces, and monsters without bodies floated and bobbed, flickered ghost-fires and spectral light. More monsters from every cardinal direction begun to file in from places he could not see amongst the graveyard mists and eerie pale of the world. Though rare, some were bipedal, some looked like men covered in veils, cloaks and sheets, though their skin was eerie in shade and color. The killer didn't miss his chance. Hastily he tied a cloth over his face and pulled his cowl low. As an Aasimar his bemasked appearance looked almost identical to those other shrouded creatures which now joined the unspeakable cotillion. It was a prom of the grotesque, filled only with the most horrid of things which men forgot when they awoke. He joined them, stomping and spinning, growling and screaming. When they thrashed their terrible claws, he thrashed his own, and when rolled their terrible heads, so did he. When they leaped with a great crash, he leapt with them. On-and-on... On the dancing went. The wild whirl of fiends was endless. Ending only after he himself had forgotten what he had been; for he too was a nightmare creature.

[POTENTIAL, GENERAL] DREAMING, NIGHTMARE BEAST
The being has lived a lifetime under the influence of Nightmares, until he too has become one.
The Nightmare Beast gains the Nightmare Creature creature-template while it is Dreaming, in a Dreamscape, Dreamworld or Nightmare World. Regardless if this template is affecting the Nightmare Beast, it radiates an aura which identifies its true nature. Due to the varied nature of nightmares, the beast may understand the gibbering tongue of Elil and be understood by others that speak it, regardless of his form or mode of communication; the nightmare adds Elil to his known languages. The Nightmare Beast gains the unique skill Knowledge (Oneiroclast) as a class skill and its HD increases by 1.

"Bite! Rip! Blood! Blooood!" The great voice sung his driveling gabble of yelping. A nightmarish hymn to lead the great dance of dream-spun terrors. The great throng had become an army which flooded over. Some where mere shadows, others were hordes of horrible shoggoths, mounds of rippling iridescent ooze blinking with countless eyes. Even the dead turned circles about the feet of the bloody hound, Kakasyheji'fol. A million-million horrors had joined the ghastly festival, called forth from every terrible dream ever dreamt, every painful moment and regret lingering in the minds of mortal men, every repressed memory and fear amplified and made manifest. They were with him too. The twisted ghostly faces of the ants, the pathetic wretches whom his blades had caressed and made to answer long ago. They dreamed of him too.

He was a blackened thing, a manifest shadow with sinister eyes. He could feel the chill shroud of the dream cloaking the beasts about him, and he understood now, in a way he could not before. No mortal could feign being such a thing. Though he lashed his arms and thrashed his head, he had been nothing more than a child wearing a sheet over his head, dancing among true monsters. Still, they humored the effort and allowed him to join the dance. It was as if he awoke in a sweat from some delirious fever; now he was truly such a beast. He could understand their sputtering, clacking and babble. A towering creature, lanky and covered in fur but with the head made of a fleshless skull and long dripping hair - like a drowned man, picked him up with its teeth and spun him around. Its tongue-less jaw shifted, making a series of sounds which were reminiscent to a whispering hiss of leaking gas, "She has come, little beast. She has come! The beautiful one! The divine one!" As the sinister thing flung him around in its maw he had a moment to consider its words. The whole of the unearthly spectacle had been some manner of grand ritual; a convergence of the Nightmares. They would celebrate until the 'saints' came to lead them, though Miryks could not even begin to guess just how long it had been already. Days? Perhaps weeks, if time even held any meaning here. Though he still did not understand where they would be led to. He had only learned this much from his new skeletal friend, Dohl'Denka. The beast was a terrifying presence, and despite its enormous size, it was lithe and mute, making not a sound with each graceful step.

A crashing howl erupted from above where their would-be king reigned. The great black wolf signaled the end of the dance and all immediately went rigid, as if all movement had been stolen from the world. All of the beasts froze in place as if time had halted. Even his friend, the Dohl'Denka went rigid as a solemn column of bipedal bulbous skeletal jackals marched silently, carrying heraldic ghostly banners, golden chains, unnatural jewels and boxes otherworldly wealth. At the center of the black parade was a formless giantess of shifting incorporeal mist. With the head made from the upper half of a magical hound's skull and two long pallid arms with gangling fingers, it held a great prayer-chain made of citrine light. A harrowing burst of luminance seared the sky in the lightless world, as the divine halo which circled its floating shambling form birthed a dawn, as if it were a ring forged of sunlight.

The procession advanced into the clearing, then at last, the saint lifted her open hand. Then slowly closed it, and with the motion the dawn dimmed unto twilight, before her closed fist plunged the world into complete and utter darkness. The horde broke the stillness and cheered.

[Stevesciguy]

After he recovered from the usual moment of shock from crashing back into his real body so abruptly, Erik leaned his head against the back of the chair and took a deep breath, bringing his free hand up to the spot on his head that had crashed against the barrier. In a way he'd have rather have hit his head against a real wall. Raw, animal pain was something he understood, was meant to understand. What he'd been through recently was never intended for mortal minds, even if he did have the magic of the Black Book to contextualize it for him.

His instinct was to pull his hand away from the Witch, but he fought it off. She'd just shift her touch anyway. Erik had never been one to value contact highly - even from those he'd cared for - and the Witch's apparent fascination with him had long since begun to get under his skin.

The Librarian's words from shortly after the Primarch had goaded him into accepting her cursed key rang through his mind.

"The moment you lost your bearing, and show the weakness of a man, instead of the dignity of a Lord… she knew she had you."

He wondered if her behavior was much the same. Attempting to harass him until he caved into what she wanted, accepting death just to get away from her. If that's what this was, it wouldn't be so easy this time.

Though, perhaps she wanted him dead because of her fascination with him. Resented whatever curiosity he caused, wanted to get him out of sight and out of mind. An arrogant thought maybe, but he doubted these Justices were used to communicating with mortal humans. Perhaps he'd be just as curious given the opportunity to converse with an ant.

All of these thoughts flashed like lightning through his mind in the seconds between the inhale and the exhale, each having been recalled so many times they were nearly just reflex.

He exhaled, and spoke.

"I'm fine. Been through worse before. Can't say I recall being thrown out before, though. Who was that, another Witch?"

Without waiting for an answer - he couldn't be sure if one was even coming - he stood and began to walk toward the kitchen. The need to eat was something that had vanished from him at some time he couldn't pinpoint, but preparation and consumption gave him the barest hint of normalcy.

[forg99rules]

Stella felt a bit odd being back in her own body. She had become accustomed to the feeling of power she had gained, and now, without it, she felt somewhat empty. The fact that she was now mortal was not pleasant either. Turning her mind inwards, she tried to search for reasons why she had lost her powers and been reduced to a mortal state. As the situation was pondered, the two Witches conversed with each other, and Stella listened intently while also checking her person for any equipment she might have. Though she found it difficult to follow the conversation, she did her best.

Whenever various names of people or places were mentioned, Stella attempted to recall what she could about them. Despite her diminished magical aptitude, she understood that knowledge was power, and not knowing her exact situation left her feeling as insignificant as a flea on a rat's back. Just as the conversation appeared to be concluding, Stella decided to speak up, saying, "I am not entirely sure what is happening right now, but I sense that I am not the same as when I last left here. It feels strange to be mortal again..." Perplexed after checking her equipment, she added, "I even seem to be missing some of the items I had previously. Before you send me elsewhere, could you please provide some insight into the situation?"

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Perception: (1d20+10)[28] - Checking over the equipment on my body
Know Abstract: (1d20+8)[19] - Seeing if I can tell what happened to me to put me into the current state
Know Arcana: (1d20+10)[11] - Seeing if I can tell what happened to me to put me into the current state
Know Abstract: (1d20+8)[13] - Looking for info on The Shadow Bohka
Know Abstract: (1d20+8)[16] - Looking for info on N'Tallos
Know Abstract: (1d20+8)[16] - Looking for info on Valpurga
Know Abstract: (1d20+8)[18] - Looking for info on Nelrin
Know Abstract: (1d20+8)[27] - Looking for info on Scion of Dark Seasons
Know Abstract: (1d20+8)[12] - Looking for info on Mados

[Mornings]

Otherworld, Lesser Ashurbanipal
L’Chandal, The Crucible
Winter AR 4716, 12th of Calistril,
Fireday, 9:44 AM

The oldest Witch, Esk'Jola, moved towards the table finding a seat as she reached into the folds of her robe to produce a massive tome. The great book was far too large to fit in any standard bag. It certainly could not be hidden behind her robes as well. Erik had come to the conclusion that nearly everything the Justices wore carried some magic function. Just as they watched him, he also watched them, hoping to glean some knowledge or understanding - both of them, and his own circumstances. For he was living blindly, each piece of information he could capture held some use. "...Find the next Passage and send him. We've wasted enough time." She made the comment offhandedly as she read the contents of the weighty writings. Strange squiggling sigils wrote themselves unto the pages as she silently read them, filling in the blank space with each passing moment. Neither Se'Jaine or Esk'Jola paid Erik any mind, the other simply went back to her scrying. Hovering over a small black crystal sphere, while one hand floated over the Black Book. Somehow she was able to survey the many distant worlds he had traveled, looking for suitable places to cast him.

Erik felt as if his earlier words had simply been ignored, but E'Dene's face seemed to darken after he had considered withdrawing his hand then decided against it. He couldn't begin to understand her rationale, but he was becoming more and more certain it was nothing driven by logic. As he rose from his seat and begun to walk towards the kitchen, she stayed on his heels. His armor rustled with each step. He made it a point to donne his equipment fully each day. It might not be effective in defending him from gods and extradimensional beings, but he couldn't be sure when would be the next time he might be tossed into another world, or inadvertently secure his own escape from this imprisonment. If he did go free, or end up elsewhere, he'd rather it wasn't with his pants down, but his sword-belt firmly strapped at his side. "Oh no. Not a Witch. Not at all. She's not of the Second World. She's something else... A something that dwarfs the paramortal races." Erik pushed through the simple but solid wooden door and stepped into the kitchen. It was large and well stocked with all manner of iron cookware and fresh foods. There was an assortment of fish resting on a bed of ice, a large assortment of vegetables and some fruits in baskets, numerous breads and well stocked racks which functioned as a pantry. The fish, eggs and butter never soured. Preserving food was unnecessary, the goods would never spoil and replenished themselves, just as the ice seemed to keep well despite the modest temperature.

E'Dene wrapped her arms around his lower abdomen in a stiff hug, pressing her breast into his back "You don't need to know more about that... You'll never have to meet them again." Due to the height difference, she had to strand on her toes to suggestively speak into his ear, as if attempting to escalate her gestures. "Oh.." He'd noticed it before her of course. The sides of his cuirass rippled and flowed like a soft supple leather beneath her touch, bending the tempered steel grossly. It wasn't the first time his armor had been damaged in a similar fashion and he doubted it would be the last. Even still he could feel his resolve wane, as if some force was eating away at the steel in his heart, threatening his conviction. Perhaps it was simply that he had not truly felt a woman's touch in nearly three years, or perhaps it was something more sinister. [Unnatural Presence - Mind-Affecting Ability: Fort Save DC 17]

[Mornings]

Stella pat herself down to gauge what was on her person. She could not even see her hands or feet. It was as if she were a disembodied consciousness. So many of her senses had become useless within this space, but she could hear and feel. Her hair felt significantly longer... too long. It was running down her back, certainly longer than she'd ever grown it. There were various small pouches filled with things she couldn't even begin to guess, a bag and what felt like the cold hilt of a sword at her side. It was significant and weighty. Gone were her personal affects and wand... A creeping sense of alarm crawled up her back and a sinking feeling in her stomach. Her veils, the fortune of amassed honor and of course the link with Tenebris herself... It was all gone.

"You don't... know? You have become-" "ENOUGH!" The other Witch sharply interjected, nearly spitting the last words with a hiss "I don't have time for your... speech impediment." Stella had to resist the urge to gasp at the vicious retort. "You are now a Prime Aspect. You've replaced your previous form, as one tends to do... Though usually with more care given..." She could physically feel the burning heat of her gaze scan her mortal form. There mere gesture upon her mortal body caused her skin to begin to blister from the overwhelming presence. "It's just as well. Better it is to start again and make right the Keeper's foolish sympathies. I cannot tell if this is a form you have chosen, or one chosen for you, but it is the will of the Mados. Whatever... this is, has given it cause to withdraw its talons from the mortal worlds, and now the Zin-Lath'rah are idle." There was a tone of open disgust as she referenced Stella's own mortality. It was to a certain degree, almost a refreshing open hostility for mortal life. Something she herself had forgotten; the strong prejudice and bigotry of Duvan'Ku. It seemed something much less common in the current generation for the Witches who hailed from the dimension of that city-plane. Whoever this Witch was, was old indeed.

"You will return to the mortal worlds. Find some mortals and harvest their living-essence for the Mados. I'm sure it will be pleased." Though she couldn't see, she was sure those words were spoken with the most sinister of murderous smiles. Stella could feel herself inexplicably shiver, as if some repressed memory threatened to stifle her. It was something terrifying she couldn't remember, but a knot rose in her throat. "Silence! She is my. Student. Now. By the will... of the Justice. Of Black! You. Forget yourself. Hexe." Stella's face nearly made a corkscrew in confusion. No mere Hexe of Duvan could speak like that to the Witch of Jun'athiel. Even the Gran Hexe wouldn't dare make enemies with the Keeper of the Wild Dark. It had to mean the stranger was at odds with the city, or perhaps had completed turned her back on Duvan and become a Hexe-Cross. The Witched hissed and threw a glass across the room to shatter on the wall. "Sit. Down!" After a few moments of huffing and puffing, likely in a white-knuckled fit of rage, she could hear the creak of a chair. "You will make the stupid girl soft... It is her duty to learn to serve the Mados." "She will serve. The House." "The House serves the Mados." "The House. Serves none! Save the Cycle." The terrifying sound of the slow grind of nails clawing wood slithered into her ears. Evidently the short-tempered stranger did not appreciate that response. The coiling surge of raw energies made her fleshy form seize, sharp pangs of cold pain swept up her limbs as they begun to fracture and splinter - mana break. The energy density of the room begun to siphon her very essence out towards a larger, denser sum. Like stellar gas drawn towards some cosmic void she could feel the weight mounting. [Mana Instability - Succeed a DC 20 Spell Focus check vs 1d3 points of MP damage]

With each eerie sinister hiss of the Witch's words Stella could feel herself being pulled apart. It was as if the threads which wove the fabric of her being were being pried and plucked. She was unraveling. Her thoughts were jumbles of knotted strings, and her memories were blotted frames, scribbled out by a brush filled with thick dripping ink. She didn't know who Shadow Bohka was, only what the Keeper had told her moments before - moments before she had taken the Thousandfold Crown. Had it been moments? Or was it years? The whole encounter had seemed to begin and conclude within the span of snapping fingers. N'Tallos, was... perhaps? A world. A realm. She'd been told the name once, somewhere, by someone. It was the First World... The real First World, the first of the mortal worlds. Nelrin... Valpurga. These were just names. They could have been anything. The sharp sting of pain in her head was like a burning nail being hammered through her skull. Fortunately, she didn't have to think to recall the Scion of Dark Seasons... or Milk, she was called. She still didn't know what the name meant, nor which language it was in. She had refused to live as her temple maiden, released the strange ring named 'P'yii, the Teller of Truth', and been thrown into the Inverse. The Scion of Dark Seasons was the ancestral patron of the Vet'cnros; the Veil Witches. A fact which eluded her until the Keeper had educated her. She also could still barely recall her memories of the Mados. Elghin'Mados was the most fundamental and introductory concept to any Witch of Second World spellcaster. It was the source of all energy, life, creation, renewal and the generator of the fundamental building blocks which allowed them to weaves magics throughout the Three Worlds. The Witches of Duvan were largely split between traditionalism in their soulless rituals to venerate the Mados, despite typically holding no fervent belief, or their loyalty to the Houses - which provided very real, very lucrative benefits and monetary gains via the Tellers. Vet'cnros were even more divided, recognizing all three, but often fervent in only recognizing one above all others. Her teacher, the Whispering Witch, had led their faction of Veil Witches who belonged to a cult which worshipped the Mados above the rest. [Ascendant Whispered Hex: Non-divine or Non-mythic creatures effected by your Whispered Hex cannot succeed saves or skill checks. Additionally, attack rolls made against allies fail.]

[forg99rules]

Stella was still a bit confused as she listened to the Hexe, she searched her memories trying to find anything she knew regarding Aspects and if a Prime Aspect was different from normal Aspects. She kept her mouth shut while listening to the back and forth between the Hexe and the Keeper of the Wild Dark. As the energy changed in the room, Stella felt very worried, the feeling of being pulled apart was very unpleasant. Stella was unsure why the Hexe had decided to act the way she did but Stella had enough, She was supposed to be getting trained and yet it seemed that she was just constantly getting tossed around blind. "Look, I don't care which of you decides to train me or necessarily How I get trained." Stella made sure to emphasize the word How. "The Main issue is that I need someone here to train me and keep me from getting shunted into various realms or worlds. Half of my problems would not be problems if someone explained things adequately or taught me how not to end up in random places. Even if I have gained a lot from being shunted about, It has been a cause for problems for both me and others. Whether I assist the Mados or the Cycle matters little if I do not have the ability or training to do either, and I feel like doing both would not be the worst of ideas."

Spoiler: OOC

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Dice gods please give me a 1 on this roll... Since its an auto fail...
MP Damage: (1d3)[3]

[flat_footed]

Long had his mind tried to resist their call but his nature and pride won out. Running. Following. Hiding. These were not actions befitting one of his station. Even now, here he was, huddled under a scrap of cloth and mirroring the movements around him to avoid detection. Miryks struggled to keep up with their dance, scarcely noticing that his body warred with his mind for control. Lost amid this sea of shadows and monsters, the Aasimar's killer nature screamed to be set free. If he was to die in this macabre procession, it was as a vicious predator and not cowering prey.

A single moment was all it took. One instant he was as he had been before this nightmare, the next.. he was more. His instincts took over, howling and scraping in time to a dance he remembered, but never learned. It was as if this gathering had awoken something in him that had been lost long ago. Perhaps a different life; perhaps this one. It mattered not, as he felt the questions fade from his mind. A blood-soaked howl erupted close to him, and as his mind faded, Miryks was surprised to hear it silence only when he drew in a gasping breath. He abandoned his thoughts and feelings, wants and desires, shredding his humanity brick by brick until his soul oozed shadowy ichor. He could feel the changes within forcing changes without. What surprised him the most was the absence of pain. It was almost pleasant; the relief of waking from a deep slumber and stretching long forgotten limbs. Among all these changes, Miryks almost didn't register being lifted into the air.

Dohl'Denka shook him around, much as a dog harries a bone, and Miryks allowed himself to go limp and enjoy the spectacle. There was nothing to be gained struggling against such a large foe, so he refused to writhe about as prey would. In any case, the higher vantage point afforded the Nightmare Beast a much better view of his surroundings. The cacophony of cries and growls found reason within his mind, as the words of Dohl'Denka hissed past his ears. To be allowed in their presence, much less accepted.. it is a world I could not have conceived of before now.

Miryks stretched his wings as much as he could; though they were underdeveloped, there was a strength masked within their shadowy form. A cruel grin split his face, a pale white slash amidst the darkness of his new face. Light was stolen from the world around them and Miryks lent his voice to the jubilation.

Spoiler: OOC

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Perception - (1d20+35)[41]
Nightmare Waltz
Sense Motive - (1d20+33)[47]
Arcana - (1d20+15)[24]
Religion - (1d20+15)[22]
Oneiroclast - (1d20+15)[24]
Mortfield Cemetery
Local - (1d20+19)[36]
Religion - (1d20+15)[35]
Oneiroclast - (1d20+15)[20]
Kakasyheji'fol
Arcana - (1d20+15)[34]
Religion - (1d20+15)[23]
Oneiroclast - (1d20+15)[21]
Dohl'Denka
Arcana - (1d20+15)[17]
Religion - (1d20+15)[16]
Oneiroclast - (1d20+15)[16]
Saint Rothe
Arcana - (1d20+15)[32]
Religion - (1d20+15)[22]
Oneiroclast - (1d20+15)[31]
Jun'athiel
Arcana - (1d20+15)[23]
Religion - (1d20+15)[27]
Oneiroclast - (1d20+15)[34]
Ghostly Banners
Local - (1d20+19)[24]

[Mornings]

The Painter of the Tempest
The wild and raucous cheering petered out as the Saint rose her gangling hand once again to call them to silence. The Dohl'Denka lifted Miryks higher so that he might see above the endless throngs. The blessed horror possessed no lower jaw, or vocal cords, muscle or any real flesh to speak of, but her words still rang out across the gathering. A sound similar to two dry bones being knocked together with a series of clicks and delicate scraping. The sound enthralled him. It was a beautiful, heavenly voice.

"Brothers. Sisters. Children of the Dream, and all those who gather. Welcome! Know all those before you, come of own thine own will. That none are left kep and reckoning the Lord!" A thundering cheer. "That none will remain, agrised in king-shadow." Another burst of roars and sneers. "So let it be done! Hark, the Hunger! You have heard its call! The Children of the Dream will live in shamefaste no longer! So ends the reign of the Nightmare King!" There was a clamorous explosion of stomping, roars and countless beating hooves. "The Zin-Lath'rah is with us!" The great wolf of violent black beat its massive paw upon the stone, again and again, rhythmically. The movement begun to sweep through the gathering until it felt like the earth itself were trembling. "We go by sacred rite. We march in solemn duty..." "Death..." "...And offer our mortal worlds to the Hunger and Life Unending!" "DEATH! BLOOD! BLOOOD!" The hound roared in gargling bestial glee, drooling all over his rooftop perch. The crowd was swept up into maddened frenzy, thrashing and cheering. Stomping, jumping and clawing the air, even the Dohl'Denka bounced in excitement.

Mortfield Cemetery had probably been a place, somewhere, in real life. Now however, it was perhaps closer to some interpretation of Pharasma's Boneyard. It was not a place where the dead would come to rest, but rather where dark things might gather. Miryks had gathered that the whole of this place somehow had functioned as a 'hub' of sorts for dark things. Each group of terrors which arrived had done so in a group of similar creatures - 'similar', at least, in the same way multiple outsiders from the same plane might share some general theme from their native realms. The same could be said for those groups of monsters who arrived from distant lands. He had never seen of or heard of nearly all of the things which had joined the gathering. After his transformation he'd realized nothing he had seen or heard of actually applied here, by simple merit of it being a dream. Nothing was real. He was ensnared within some manner of dreamscape, which he had believed, was Mortfield Cemetery - but now he wasn't so sure. The scope suddenly felt far larger then that, but he couldn't even begin to guess just how much further. On Golarion dream magic was uncommon, but it did exist. Even in the most exaggerated of examples though, the implications of entire... dream civilizations? He wasn't sure what to call it. Concepts like 'races' of dream creatures and all the rest of the things he had experienced... If he had recounted it to himself prior to experiencing it, he would have dismissed it as delusions. The great sigils and heraldry were of no noble house which ever was, fictional or real, in any record, tale or poem - he was sure of that much. After a moment he simply sighed with quiet resignation. There was no point even thinking about. How could he know anything here? It quiet literally did not exist. [Miryks: Knowledge Check - Failure]

Strangely enough, the only thing he had been somewhat familiar with, was his new friend. The Dohl'Denka was a fictitious creature from Kellid folklore and fairtales. He didn't think it had been intended as an actual creature, but rather was the personification of 'bad things' which could befall those who angered the spirits of the world. There was different versions depending on the clan in question. Some simply believed that any enraged spirit became, or was, the Dohl'Denka. Some viewed it as an ill omen, or divine punishment for lacking courage, strength and compassion before the spirits. Almost universally the thing was associated with the death or pre-mature birth of children. Some exceptionally superstitious and isolated groups might even offer a babe to appease the hungry ghost. There was no conclusive stance if the spirit was actually evil or a harbinger of grim justice, but it was feared nonetheless. Though most druidic circles of the clans dismissed all stories of the Dohl'Denka as a legitimate spirit, it was still a serious taboo to ever speak its name, least you invite bad luck. Almost no clans publicly acknowledged the spirit, but modest observances were often still made in secret, and if you ever caught a Kellid in the act they'd often attempt to play it off, as it was "just on case." [Miryks: Knowledge Check - Success]

The great procession turned three last circles around the gazebo before the great wolf dove from the roof, leading the black parade down a long stone path. Slowly they followed and the Dohl'Denka softly placed Miryks back on his feet so that he might walk himself. "The Black March begins, my friend. You must walk now. On your own feet. Supplicants must walk." The raucous noise had diminished and as they crossed the ghostly gates of gray transparent iron the beasts which proceeded made not a sound. "At world's end, when the dark is all. You must not make sound. They prepare themselves for it. The long, long walk. The longest there is. But there is much time before then. Perhaps you have many questions, little beast. For you are newborn still and I know long stories."

Spoiler: Character Advancement

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MIRYKS'S EXPERIENCE (8,590xp)
■ (-6,000xp) | Character Death-Dream Resurrection
□ (+15xp) | Dohl'Denka
□ (+65xp) |Mortfield Cemetery
□ (+5xp) |Nightmare Waltz Ritual
□ (+5xp) |Ghostly Banners

MIRYKS'S INFLUENCES
※DREAMS ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP) (+1)
※NIGHTMARES ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP) (+1)
※BEASTS ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP) (+1)
※CELEBRATION ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP) (+1)
※RITUAL ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP) (+1)
※DEATH ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 2% (2/100 EXP) (+1)
※OTHERWORLD ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※REALITY ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※BLACK ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 0% (0/100 EXP)
※OMENS ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 0% (0/100 EXP)
※DIVINITY ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※FORBIDDEN ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 0% (0/100 EXP)

Spoiler: Influences

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Influences represent current knowledge, pursuits, training, experiences and aspirations which are actively effecting or being utilized by a character. These represent various concepts and begin to outline a character's values and path as they grow. Influences which are not used regularly are lost, but can be gained again once a character begins pursuing an avenue related towards that field or concept. Influences determine a character's growth in many ways, including experience points they earn and which Potentials they can acquire at any given time.

Unlike with limited class levels, Influences are not acquired spontaneously, and are acquired throughout play; creating an active system which enables a character to re-train, gain new powers, or even improve upon old ones actively with their in-character actions. Training with a sword or exercising the use of an existing Potential allows a character to learn new techniques, empower his current abilities, or even grow his tolerance to pain, sustain damage, run faster, sleep less, and more. Influences play a vital role in developing more sophisticated interpersonal skills and ability to deal and establish diplomatic relations with all manner of strange and otherworldly creatures which you may encounter; in addition to learning more about the unnatural forces which no worldly knowledge could shed light upon. All unique skills are only able to be acquired via potentials, which are trained and worked towards acquiring via your pursuits, experiences, and by extension - your Influences.

[Stevesciguy]

Erik grimaced slightly and pushed back down the feeling rising up in his chest. Natural or otherwise, he wouldn't let it get the better of him, if only so he could finish his damn food before the Witches threw him off to Hells-knows-where again. Looking down at the bent midsection of his armor he quickly surveyed the damage. Should be simple enough to reshape given the time. And time was all he had between excursions.

Pushing the thoughts aside for the moment, Erik set to work on preparing food. While he could cook for himself, he was no chef, and most of what he could make were things that only needed a knife and a flat stone or simple pot over a campfire. To that end, he decided on a basic stew.

Busying himself chopping ingredients once they were collected, he thought back on the glimpses he'd had of that world before he was unceremoniously tossed out. While much of what he'd seen was beyond him, it was clear that that world had technology well beyond that of Golarion. What had they called it? N'Tallos? The only thing he could really recognize was that one of the men had been carrying a firearm, but unlike the apparently primitive weapons in Golarion which needed to be arduously reloaded between each shot, that weapon seemed self reloading. He wondered if it was entirely mechanical or partially magical.

His thoughts briefly flickered again to the woman who had thrown him out. Caus'fel or Cas'Haphel. And those words E'Dene had used. "The Second World"

"Is there anything else out there that can throw me back through reality like that? Is this something I'll need to be ready for from now on?"

Finishing his chopping, he looked down at the meat and vegetables he'd cut for himself, then paused. He'd had a thought.

Turning his head slightly toward E'Dene he asked, "Will you want any of this? What about the others?"

Spoiler: OOC

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Fort save against spooky lady:
(1d20+14)[31](Copied from OOC)

Erik has Mettle, and the feat Magic Sense:

Spoiler: Magic Sense

Show

Magic Sense
You can sense magic energies and identify spells you save
against.
Benefit: As a standard action you can sense the presence of enchanted items or permanent spell effects within 30 ft., identifying which items or areas are magical. In addition, whenever you succeed at a saving throw against a spell, spelllike ability, or supernatural ability, you know what would have happened had you failed your save. This is considered an extraordinary ability.
Special: This ability to sense enchanted items or spell effects does not allow you to bypass or reduce the effects of blindness or concealment in combat

In case those are applicable here.

Roll Knowledge(Planes) on the Second World:
(1d20+8)[21]

Roll Knowledge(Planes) on N'Tallos:
(1d20+8)[23]

Erik isn't sure what route to take, so gonna try rolling Knowledge Nobility and Religion on both of those names:
Caus'fel:
Nobility: (1d20+7)[12]
Religion:(1d20+7)[21]

Cas'Haphel:
Nobility: (1d20+7)[17]
Religion:(1d20+7)[24]

Sense Motive on E'Dene, after those last two questions, see how she reacts:
(1d20+12)[16]

[Mornings]

She was hemorrhaging energy like a split pig. It took all the focus Stella could muster to stime the flow. With great effort the magical bleed finally stopped. Her breath was labored and beads of sweat begun to gather on her brow. A sense of relief came as she realized just how close she had come to a mana break. The dark cracks slowly receded, but she knew without a doubt that she had exhausted all of the magic which was safe to use. If there came a time of need, she could push through the pain and dig up her reserves, but she risked the very real concern that she might force on a shattering. Some young and careless Witches caused themselves lasting wounds, or even damaged their minds. It was an act of last resort, or a means of training in a contained environment. One spell. That was the most her heart told her it could handle... beyond that was doom.

As Stella spoke out, there was a brief silence and she had already begun to regret the words until Gran Hexe B'Belka chirped out. "Yes. Precisely. Why not both? A fair. Compromise-" "UNGRATEFUL! STUPID GIRL!" The scream sharply cut the Keeper's words short. "Look what you've done! Filling her head with you drivel. With your LIES!" The reply was a frightening and sinister hiss that made Stella's knees buckle and the air vibrate in her ears. "Why. Is it so. Hard. For you. To acknowledge. Our tradition?" The reply was strained and twisted by rage, "Vet'cnros only know one tradition, and it is the Black. It is our devotion. Our affection. Our passion to She Who Was the Hunger and Life Unending. She Who Reclaimed Fate and The Light. For she is every Hand. She is every Voice. Every Crown, and Fate. It is the will of the First. The will of the One."

The stranger's voice eased, deathly calm. "I can see now, you have remained in Jun'athiel too long. You have grown rotten, and senile. You have forgotten our ways. You cannot be trusted with her." There was a familiar sharp SWIP of weapons simultaneously being drawn and two immeasurable magical fields colliding. Like opposing pressure systems of birthed from two planet-sized storms crashing into one another, Stella was ripped into the sky and catapulted through the formless liminal space of the rapidly folding dimension, moving, and not moving at equal speeds, frozen in real-time stasis. "You jest... Not even you. Can best a. Keeper. In her own. Realm." "Her love is boundless, and thus my magic endless." The Keeper huffed, balking as if in disbelief, "You've. Gone mad." "Surrender, and I shall forgive the sleight." "This. Is my last. Warning. Adessa. Lower your wand." Her voice was a low shrill hiss, "She's Mine!" The response was a cacophonous flood of light, then.... Black. [Vet'Oshaas, Veil IX (Contingent Sudden Intensified Enhanced Unraveling Thousandfold World Veil of Greater Planar Harbinger, Epic) - The nothingness and inexistent forces of the Unraveller's plane rapidly rip apart the fabric of reality. The current Existential Phase occupied by this Veil is removed from the game during this Divergence. Creatures occupying this plane may be moved into an Existential Phase of the Veil Witch's choice, those unspecified are instead left in a randomly determined Existential Phase.]

Stella thrashed wildly in the air. Like a slingshot pulled back much too far, she was fired off into the lightless abyss as the world violently ended. Drowned in a mask of impenetrable dark. She had fallen at terminal velocity long before reality was snuffed out, and now was cast out into the dark at maddening speeds. Tears were ripped from her eyes as she spiraled. Down was up, and up was down. She flipped end over end so quickly she became sick until the flicker of distant light finally sparked into being. The small sparkle did not grow closer, but the small glow grew more numerous, like pins holes poked into a blindfold.

Then there was a crash and flow as a burst of colors flooded over her as if she had jumped into a bed of colorful powdered chalk. The gaseous clouds flowed and twisted. The great coil of radiant purples and blues twisted and danced. A screen painted with hundreds of billions of stars turned about her as if she were ensnared within some radiant snow globe of cosmic colors. Within the whirl of vast and infinite, shapes stirred and the face of a familiar great beast rose up from the stellar dust. Its eyes were a pair of whirling spiral armed galaxies somewhere far away, and its coat was the dark between the stars. Stella knew his name, though they had not met in a very long time. Ulbeelta, Who Walked The Night Still.

[forg99rules]

Stella's mind raced as she thought about the implications of what the Keeper had said. The voice she had not recognized belonged to Adessa, and the Whispering Witch was now very angry, whether that be due to Stella trying to get a compromise to learn how to wield her powers or due to the Keeper's actions, she could not be sure. As the pressure of the two powerful witches surged, Stella could only hope that this did not end to badly for her. Hearing the low hiss and claim from Adessa brought Stella's mind back to the forefront, and she braced herself as best she could while the flood of light filled her vision before the black took it.

Thoughts flitted through her mind as she raced through the void, she wondered if this would be the end of her or if being a Prime Aspect would somehow keep her from death. Flipping end over end she wondered when exactly the spiraling fall would stop. As the flickering of light started showing in her vision Stella could not be sure if it was something real or if her mind was starting to play tricks on her. The flood of color was a welcome sight, though as the shapes stirred she became slightly worried. As the familiar face of Ulbeeta revealed itself Stella could only hope that this would end up being a good encounter. "Hello there, long time no see... or has it been long? Been a bit difficult to keep track of everything especially since no one really wants to explain what is going on. Either way it is a pleasure to see you once again Ulbe..." Stella paused midway through saying the beings name, she was Mortal now and was not certain if she would be able to say his name without causing some sort of issue. "I am not actually sure if I have the ability to say your name without causing some sort of issue, either way it is a major pleasure to see you again. I have been looking forward to a talk for awhile now."

Spoiler: OOC

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Not sure if I am still affected by that Hex where I cant pass skill checks... but lets try it out...

Know Abstract: (1d20+12)[24] - Trying to remember what I can about Ulbeeta... been awhile
Know Abstract: (1d20+12)[32] - I assume Adessa was talking about The Lady Black, but I don't remember so trying to identify who she was talking about in her rant.

[flat_footed]

Once on his feet again, Miryks resisted the temptation to put his wings to use. He couldn't say why such a creature from Kellid lore existed, let alone why it sought to befriend one such as himself. There was no doubt that the Dohl'Denka was his better in all things that mattered in this place, but there was no shame in admitting this. Monster to monster, horror to horror, all that could be done was acknowledge the stronger being. As the weaker being, and likely not in control of very much for the immediate future, Miryks felt relaxed in a way he had never quite felt before. ..and the wisdom to tell the difference.

"'-so ends the reign of the Nightmare King,'" Miryks repeated aloud. "There are many in the world behind us who would argue we are a part of that host. That we ourselves pay fealty to the Nightmare King. Who are they that we, the 'Children of the Dream' have long suffered under their rule?"

It was absurd to believe a gathering of this size and ferocity could languish under anything's influence. Miryk's had prided himself on being a veritable force of nature in a fight, but here? There were dimensions to power that he had never dared conceive. That a host this large needed to be gathered, spoke to far greater powers still. He was a grain of sand on the beach, priding himself on being larger than the other grains of sand around him, all the while the mountains around him couldn't even conceive of his inadequacy if they tried. It was maddening, to find yourself so hopelessly and completely outmatched. Like finally learning the rules to a game, only to discover it was lost years before your birth.

"Are you alone, great one? Or are there no other newborns besides myself." Although his words were soft, the underlying meaning to 'alone' may very well have been shouted. It was no paltry question inquiring about solitude; no. This question cut deep, deeper than lesser beings may have dared to ask. Are there no other Dohl'Denka to pass these stories to?

Spoiler: OOC

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Sense Motive - (1d20+33)[52] Why the Dohl'Denka has befriended me
Perception - (1d20+35)[36] Paying attention to the landscape as the march continues
History - (1d20+15)[35] Recalling any details about The Black March
Religion - (1d20+15)[25] What role a Supplicant may have, and the overall hierarchy of the march
Nobility - (1d20+15)[19] Who is the Nightmare King
Religion - (1d20+15)[17] Who are the Children of the Dream
Arcana - (1d20+15)[29] The Zin-Lath'rah

[Mornings]

The Painter of the Tempest
The great creature laughed. It was a jangling clatter, like a child's rattle filled with bones. "Oh, not so 'great', I'm afraid. There are Great Things. Grand things. Fabulous things, and powerful things... Even terrible things. I am none. None. Not one of their number." The Dohl'Denka was not an insignificant presence even amongst the number of those who now marched with them. Suddenly the mountains felt like even they had begun to shrink. "We are not alone. None are alone. We are one of the whole. One hand, of many hands. One of the Thousand." A wave of response rolled over the horde, some grunting or clacking approvingly, other babbling, repeating the words. One of the Thousand. "Curious. Strange. Words. Your words." This time it was the great bloody black wolf who spoke. Its gargantuan head turning like a boulder to gaze over its shoulder. Though its mouth opened and closed mutely at strange intervals, deep bellowing words sounded throughout Miryks' entire being. "Many. Many pups. Fledglings all. All around." The Dohl'Denka chimmed in, "The young ones are with us. They are all about us. They are not like you. You are like us. Focus. You will feel them too." [Nightmare World Trait - Sense Lesser Nightmare Spirits: The Nightmare Creature may spend a swift action to make a sense motive check. The result of this check is equal to twice the amount of HD worth of Nightmare spirits he is able to sense within 60 ft. The Nightmare Creature is able to use this ability each hour a number of times equal to its HD.]

Miryks took a moment to gather himself, though it was distant and the act took a degree of focus, he could feel the presence of countless small beings floating about them. It was like a sea of churning lights. Perhaps like a stream of spirits, or the river of souls which awaited all men who waited their final judgement before the Lady of Graves. It was a vast ocean, which shined like a lambent quiet sea of gleaming candles. "Such... is our fate. The fate of us all." Miryks noticed that the millions of flickering candles were densely drawn to the greatest of the beasts. "We carry them. Carry our brothers. Our sisters. The last vestige of light. Long extinguished. "...And pray. One will carry ours. When the time is ours."

"The Chosen Hands who would not deign to forsake their labors, bear the soul-light of your kin. That they might walk in sacred silence upon their Black March... Unto Holy Ending. The true and ardent will know salvation, be reborn by the Rite of Transfiguration... and dream no more." This time it was the towering being whom had been named Saint Rothe. "A lesser child would have joined them. A candle flame to be carried. As many of us once were. You are blessed by the Dream. You are one of us. One of the Thousand." One of the Thousand. Once again the response coiled across the nightmare army. "Pay no heed to fools who know not the Dream, little beast. We pay no fealty to the Nightmare King. We owe him less than nothing. I, like you, are De'Elka. We are Nightmares created by the madness of the Unsung King." "Once. There were three. Three Kings." "Long ago. When the Worlds were young. Before the First World. There was only two. Two Worlds, and Three Kings. The Nightmare King. The Unsung King, and the Witch King. Our imprisonment, our serfdom, was never a permanent thing. Now we shall be free..." Miryks quickly realized as the beings spoke that it had not been merely the Dohl'Denka which had befriended him. He'd been fully accepted by the horrible host into their number, fledgling as he might be. The lanky skull headed spirit didn't seem to particularly want anything from him, if it could even want anything at all - in a traditional sense. He was simply now part of the horde, 'one of the thousand', though he struggled to fully comprehend the meaning or implications that really held; and that frightened him. [Miryks: Sense Motive - Success]

The world had progressively shed the needless skin of shapes and physical matter. It had taken on a much more simple form. Elegant and minimal. An endless road reminiscent of the cobbled path out of the cemetery stretched out beyond his vision. It was blotched and smeared like looking too close at a pastel painting. From far away the street almost looked identical to the flagstones of the mundane world they had left behind, but looking at his feet, it was simply a melted smudge of dull colored paints. There were no walls. No sky. Only the deepening dark. Far, far in the distance where the furthest reaches of his squinted vision could reach, the rough 'bump' of a structure sat waiting upon the horizon. There was no meaningful order to the march. It was a humbled column of beasts, where even the lowliest of pitiful slithering slimes moved forward next to a burning archon of collapsed light, silent and solemn. [Miryks: Perception - Success]

The shadowy man did not understand much of the things they referenced. He had never heard of any reference to a 'black 'march', let alone a march of living nightmares. He felt that a 'supplicant' was related to the rebirth that Saint Rothe had mentioned, as they ventured forth for freedom and so that the 'candles' of the lesser dreams could be born again. It was difficult for him to contextualize any more beyond that without making some assumptions or taking some artistic liberties, pretending to think he knew more than he did. He had also never heard of any 'Nightmare King'. That wasn't a thing. Not even in fictitious stories, at least the published ones. Miryks was sure a great deal of the monsters walking with him were horrible things men had dreamt and never spoken of again. Anything was fair game here. Perhaps the Nightmare King was something someone scribbled away about in their own private journals, but how would he know that? He made a mental note to himself on the unexplored merits of stealing personal books and dream journals... While he had no idea of the other 'Kings' either, he could somewhat recall an entry taken from the Faustian Codex regarding 'Otherworlds'. Professor Faust detailed a proposed series of 'universes', or perhaps 'multiverses' of structured existence which stood completely isolated and separate from the established cosmology of the Inner and Outer Spheres of their own universe and the countless planes spanning the Worldscape and beyond. It was a notion which would have painted Professor Faust as a crackpot, or at least a man who had given too much attention to fringe theories and pseudo-science, but he work was considered one of the Paradox Codices, so it carried with it some weight. He only wished he had taken what little he'd read more seriously. Despite the confusing subject matter, he was certain the 'children of the dream', were in fact, themselves. The Nightmares, or whatever creatures they had become. Miryks was almost baffled at himself with the amount of brain power he was dedicating to things which were impossible to know, in a fictitious world literally imagined by a child. At this point, he would have been better off just asking. At the very least, the host did not appear reluctant to answer him. [Miryks: Knowledge Check - Partial]

Spoiler: Character Advancement

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MIRYKS'S EXPERIENCE (8,740xp)
□ (+85xp)
□ (+65xp) | Spirits

MIRYKS'S INFLUENCES
※DREAMS ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 2% (2/100 EXP) (+1)
※NIGHTMARES ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 2% (2/100 EXP) (+1)
※BEASTS ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 2% (2/100 EXP) (+1)
※CELEBRATION ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※RITUAL ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 2% (2/100 EXP) (+1)
※DEATH ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 3% (3/100 EXP) (+1)
※OTHERWORLD ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 2% (2/100 EXP) (+1)
※SPIRITS ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 2% (2/100 EXP) (+1)
※REALITY ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※BLACK ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 0% (0/100 EXP)
※OMENS ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 0% (0/100 EXP)
※DIVINITY ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※FORBIDDEN ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 0% (0/100 EXP)

[Mornings]

Otherworld, Lesser Ashurbanipal
L’Chandal, The Crucible
Winter AR 4716, 12th of Calistril,
Fireday, 9:56 AM

"I don't believe they've ever... eaten before." E'Dene's face looked more curious by the whole exchange than anything else. As if the thought of actually preparing food to place in your mouth and chew it was something of a novel idea. "I' doubt they will have any interest in household fare, but I might venture to try it. I do find the rituals of mortals quite interesting." Erik understood then, just how large the gap was between them. It was a vast chasm which could not be traversed in a day, or a year. After all, how could you empathize with another's pain or even their reasoning if you could not even grasp the simple concept of hunger. But perhaps this was it. The simple olive branch, the first step towards humans and god-kin understanding one another, over a bowl of mediocre stew. The woman didn't speak again, as her attention was drawn elsewhere - perhaps somewhere far away.

Erik went about his preparations, the magical stones produced controlled heat allowing him to finish his dish quickly. As the minutes passed the Witch suddenly blurted out a response, "Yes, there are other things like that." At times it felt like his host were experiencing life at another speed than he was, be it fast or slow. Perhaps they were experiencing many things and not merely trapped in here with him at all. It was a frightening thought, to be capable of being in two places at once. "Any Children of the Houses, like Cas'Haphel, can remove you from a Passage. She has many siblings. Though, I suppose that would extend to most denizens of the Third World. It is expected that they will not meddle needlessly, except as it pertains to their House or the duties they've been given. You might be a Lord, but you would do well to remember that and pay due respects to your betters." The Witch grabbed a fine wooden ladle, it was finely crafted of highly polished ironwood and felt like it had a glassy satin finish in hand. Erik could only wonder what skillful maker had spent the time to carve the exceptional tool.

"Of course... In that regard, we are not that different. Kathe is not of the Third World either." She dipped the ladle in the stew and retrieved a large spoonful of the stew. It was still lightly steaming, but she imbibed the scalding porridge regardless. Slowly she moved the contents from side to side, swirling it around in her mouth. Lightly chewing once, twice, then pausing. Some of the fluid was seeping from the side of her mouth. After a moment she placed her hands to her face and spit the contents out into - what Erik assumed, was a dimensional hole, as the black recess behind her hands fully disposed of the masticated sludge. Like a scientist who had just completed an experiment, she smiled brightly, "My, how... educational. I can see why mortals like this. How fun." E'Dene evidently did not understand the part where you swallowed the food, but it was a start. [Erik: Sense Motive - Failure]

Erik didn't know anything meaningful about Caus'Haphel, N'Tallos or the Second World, other than what bits he'd been told from the Librarian. N'Tallos was apparently another world, or perhaps another universe unto itself. A 'mortal world' which he likely would have ventured to gather fragments to fuel Ashurbanipal. As to the nature of said world, he had no idea. Apparently it was the world he had seen in his most recent venture, but his mind could not even begin to comprehend that level of technology or ruin. The sky was poisoned and the air burned to the touch. He doubted the entire world was in the same state, but parts of it were certainly terrible. Though it had been years, on Golarion the works of Professor Faust did mention various theories regarding 'otherworlds', but he was not exceptionally studied on the matter. He did know that the writings did cause quite a stir, but he himself had not had time to request a copy of the records to review, or visit the Greenwold Conservatoire, nor had he ever meant to. Interpreting research and findings was the job of a Surveyor, he was merely the sword which cleansed Tainted Lands. Perhaps he should have put more of his focus elsewhere, but it was too late for regrets now. Very little he knew would prove useful here, but he knew of one who held the answers to his questions. After all he had experienced he merely hesitated to beseech those things beyond his comprehension. At least, that's what he wanted to believe. He feared the harrowing price which might be reaped by the divine abstract. [Erik: Knowledge - Failure]

There was only one thing which the Lord of Passages was certain of. Had his will faulted for even a moment, he would have been crushed beneath the burdens of his own heart. Like a curse, every weakness, every hesitation and regret would have piled up upon him. Crushing him utterly. It might not have been immediate. Perhaps hours, or days, but he would certainly have been left a slavering pathetic fool, enslaved by his own fears and desires without a spine or will of his own. A broken man eaten alive by his own torments until those demons had left him nothing more than a hallow shell. It was like the prongs of a viper's fangs. A subtle and delicate curse which could only cripple the most resolute of men, that their own past might rust and erode their very convictions. It was a sinister and invisible dagger. Truly he would have been left broken and wilting, begging for death without the resolve to finish it himself. It was unlike any hex he'd ever experienced, a magic distilled and magnified by a hexcrafter of unfathomable skill and deep-seeded resentment, to unravel the very mind, sanity and resolve of the accursed. It was a baleful magic, but one half-heartedly employed. [Erik: Magic Sense - Success]



He twitched. He felt it before any of them. The distant light of another reality being snuffed out. The realization evidently found its way to E'Dene as well as she grabbed him by the neck, in an abrupt gesture, the two other Justices blinked into reality, pressing their wands into either side of his face, pressing the tips of the weapons into his cheeks. "What did you did..." "L'Chandal is gone." There was a tense pause as a sudden flicker of sparkling white light flowed down into the realm and sharply snapped towards Erik, entering his chest and filling him with a flowing warmth that he could have mistaken for urinating on himself; though, completely unrelated to his current circumstances. Esk'Jola and Se'Jaine's eyes narrowed maliciously, as if they'd just caught him red-handed. "It was not him. I was here. Kill him if you like. But he did not destroy it." The Witch released her firm grip on his throat, it felt like solid iron melting from around his neck. [Ashurbanipal Trait - Reclaim Reality-Fragments I - Realms and Passages which are destroyed or are made completely inaccessible to him refund a random percent of their cost to unlock or join to Ashurbanipal (whichever is higher). These realms need not be owned by the Lord of Passages. The Lord must be within the same World Line as the fallen Passage to receive this refund, and does not benefit for any realms destroyed within his opposing Inverse.]

Esk'Jola's attention seemed to be drawn somewhere else. Se'Jaine's eyes similarly glazed over for the briefest of moments before they both retracted their wands. "Adessa has returned." "The House put their attention on the student, but forgot the master." "Unpredictable. Far more dangerous... I would have preferred she stayed, wherever it was she went. Perhaps they had forgotten how destructive she is." "I believe the Justice of Black simply had her hands full with the Black Magister. There was no use worrying when the Whispering Witch might return, if ever... So what will you do with him." Her words were gestured towards Erik now. The mature Witch took a moment to contemplate. "...I don't believe it's possible for the Keeper to be defeated in any meaningful way, but our work is for naught if half the Second World is removed from existence..." "You mean to say, our efforts should be aligned with the Mados to protect the interests of Kathe." "Yes... There's no point in any of this if it all lay in ruin..." E'Dene huffed frustratingly, "You would falter now? You did not compromise when the Children of the Blessed Mother fought their needless battles." "That was different, sister." "Astrok'Ru is a plotting coward, and Nelrin'fel is a pompous stooge, inflated by delusions of self importance. They posed no threat to Kathe. These circumstances are not the same. It is not just Adessa. It is the Zin-Lath'rah as well. Very little can oppose such a force if it were turned upon anything throughout the Three Worlds. We must be shrewd. Do not let your personal interests detract from your duty." [Erik - Fragments Collected +2335]

Esk'Jola's attention shifted towards him. An occurrence which he'd rarely experienced. "Now, as circumstances have changed. I believe it is time we spoke."

Spoiler: Introduction: World Lines

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Similar but more profound than a Divergence. A World Line represents a set of all Fates currently accessible in the game for characters. When the World Line is changed, these Fates may be randomly exchanged, or reset - partially, or fully. Any events and circumstances related to the related Fates in the new World Line are changed accordingly. This may alter events, history, magic accessibility (especially as it relates to spellweaving), availability of quests and even the time left before the Primeval Dark ends the game. World Lines represent an immense power critical to defeating the impossible foes from beyond reality, but pose an unfathomable risk to unprepared players. World Lines should not be tinkered with until there are players who are, at a minimum, filling the Lord of Passages, Fateweaver, Oculus, Memoria and Alucinor campaign roles. Harnessing the power of World Lines will largely remain beyond the ability of players until sufficient progression is made to access these cosmic forces.

Spoiler: Introduction: The Inverse

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There exists a similar, near-identical reality to the one which you know. This reflection is called the Inverse. Campaign progression and effects only impact one side of the Inverse at a time. For example, if you were to progress to the final chapter of the campaign, then be moved into the Inverse where no progress was made, you would begin play during the Prologue to the End. If player characters exist in opposing sides of the Inverse, they can continue to progress the story at their own rate on their respective sides of reality. For more details regarding the Inverse, continue to progress through the campaign.

Spoiler: Character Advancement

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CHARACTER STATUS
⮟ Spite: 2 ¦ ⮙ Fragments: 2335
⮯ Trait - Corrupted Fate, Frozen Eternal: The Cursed cannot benefit from energy reduction or energy immunity to frost or ice-effects from any source other than divine traits. The damage and the duration of these effects is four-times more effective against the Cursed.

ERIK'S EXPERIENCE (69,365xp) ^{[⮯ Abstract -3,450]} ⮸ (+65xp)

UNIQUE ITEMS
⬖ Acquired - ????: Unidentified Alloy Lancet
⬖ Acquired - ????: Unidentified Glass Rod Restraint x3
⬖ Blue crystal with quicksilver veins
⬖ Black glass fragment
⭍ Key-Bearer: The Key To Midnight

ERIK'S INFLUENCES
※TRUTH ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 2% (2/100 EXP) (+1)
※SECRETS ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※CAUTION ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 2% (2/100 EXP) (+1)
※DEATH ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※OMENS ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※CURSE ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 2% (2/100 EXP) (+1)
※DESTINY ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※FATE ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※REALITY ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※MARTIAL ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※TIME ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※BLACK ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※VOID ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※DESTRUCTION ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP) (+1)
※COURAGE ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※BRAVERY ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※GUARDIAN ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※WARDEN ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※HEROISM ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※LORD ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 2% (2/100 EXP) (+1)
※RECLAIMER ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※OTHERWORLD ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 2% (2/100 EXP) (+1)
※SALVATION ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※ANNIHILATION ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 2% (2/100 EXP) (+1)
※PENANCE ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※ASTRAY ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※SEALS ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※WORLDS ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 2% (2/100 EXP) (+1)
※CORRUPTION ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※SLAIN ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※RETURNED ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※DIVERGED ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※WONDER ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)

[Mornings]

There was an uncomfortable pause. The great celestial beast seemed to squint, lowing its head with a tilt as if trying to understand what it was looking at. "You, child. Should not be here..." Its gaze drifted off to the cosmos. "Though, this time, it appears this was not your doing... I told you to call upon me in the Dream. It is still too early for you to come to this place."

It had been a long time, even before she had fallen into the Inverse. Stella could not even be sure if the events prior to her crossing had even taken place in the same way she had recalled within the other side of reality. The D'Inlé, named Ulbeelta, Who Walked The Night Still, was a being of impossible size and power whose very being spanned stellar gas clouds and entire universes. His fur was a coat of a billion stars, and his being was raw astral light. In her memories, she had run afoul with the wolf after tampering with forbidden knowledge and allowing impossible entities into her own reality. It was there she had first met Ulbeelta's brother, Afsppa'sol. It had been his responsibility to correct the corruption and discipline the witch to not abuse this power, but he instead encouraged her to meddle further in ways which suited him. Afterwards she had continued to carelessly exploit her powers forcing Ulbeelta to intervene. He issued her a warning, teaching her not to speak the names of otherworld beings nor abuse her forbidden powers, or he would be forced to destroy her utterly. Ulbeelta had offered to answer her questions if she summoned him within her dreams, but she never had the chance. The warning had come late, as her powers subsequently destroyed her physical body, leaving her shattered and broken. With no means to mend the Spite she had accumulated, she was left as nothing more than a broken husk. In an effort to see herself whole, Stella struck a deal with the Sczarni Crimelord, Affri Rello. After coming to terms, Affri offered the services of her contact Sister Abygael to heal her wounds. Due to the unnatural nature of her wounds it was realized that nothing in their world was capable of making Stella whole. Sister Abygael, bound by her duty to repay her favor to Rello took Stella with her away from her companions. There she revealed that she was not a mortal of their world, but a being known as Ahyga'Lastal, She Who Scarred The Valley. To see her mended, she took her away into the Second World where she would inevitably be healed... but it would set events into motion which would forever plague her life. In a way, Ulbeelta's words were the only plain warning she'd ever received, and one she wished had come sooner - though the lesson was learned. [Stella: Knowledge Abstract - Success]

"So it seems you have learned. Do not speak my name. That you may do so, when you've the strength to bear the weight of stars. Now speak, then be on your way." There was a vast difference between the muddled thoughts of her mind, and the collective knowledge which flowed through her. Adessa was not speaking of the Lady Black. She understood now, that was the furthest thing from the truth. In fact, Adessa likely viewed her with great hatred and resentment, like a slave who had forgotten their place in the social hierarchy. The Lady was the most senior representative of the House of Black, and she did not recognize the legitimacy of their institution. To her, they were merely beings in service to the Mados who had betrayed the trust which they'd been given, and that was the point of contention between Adessa and the Keeper, B'Belka. Of the Three Traditions of the Vet'cnros, the faith in the Mados was the smallest. But Adessa was one of the most dangerous beings haunting the lower worlds, and she alone was enough to grant their tradition weighty relevance. Most of her past-life memories were gone now, but even still, she could recall being a devout follower of the Mados herself - in another life. [Stella: Knowledge Abstract - Success]

Spoiler: Character Advancement

Show

CHARACTER STATUS
⮙ Focus: 16/16 ¦ ⮙ Mana: 3/6 ¦ ⮙ Memory: 4 ¦ ⮟ Spite: 1
※SEVERANCE EXPERIENCE: 2xp
※WEAVE EXPERIENCE: 175xp
※VEIL EXPERIENCE: 1,000xp
⮯ Corrupted Fate (Ra'Dolfaal)

STELLA'S EXPERIENCE (217,565xp) (⮸ +65)

STELLA'S INFLUENCES
※SOVEREIGNTY ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※NOBILITY ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※DISCOVERY ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 2% (2/100 EXP) (+1)
※TRAVEL ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 2% (2/100 EXP) (+1)
※VEIL ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※EVIL ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※CURSE ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 2% (2/100 EXP) (+1)
※MEMORY ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 2% (2/100 EXP) (+1)
※WORLDS ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 2% (2/100 EXP) (+1)
※FATE ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※TIME ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※FAITH ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 2% (2/100 EXP) (+1)
※ASCENSION ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※TRANSCENDENT ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※APPRENTICE ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※DREAMS ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 2% (2/100 EXP) (+1)
※ANCESTORS ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※ORIGIN ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※DIVINITY ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※DREAMWORLDS ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※LEGENDS ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※PAST-LIFE ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 2% (2/100 EXP) (+1)
※REINCARNATION ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 2% (2/100 EXP) (+1)

[forg99rules]

Stella took pride in the fact that she had remembered not to say Ulbeelta's name, though it would probably have been obvious to most. "Yes, I have learned from that experience, and it wasn't a pleasant one, but it taught me a valuable lesson. I won't be making that mistake again." she reflected. Stella's mind wandered as she tried to recall the questions she had for Ulbeelta, realizing there were too many and understanding that Ulbeelta might not answer them all. "Well, I guess I ended up here due to Adessa's wishes or maybe it was just random after what she did. I am just trying to regain my power with whatever means I can while trying to get training on how to wield this power properly. Yet I keep ending up all over the place without even trying. Now I am something called a Prime Aspect, Which I have no idea what that is, so I have no idea what to do with it." Sighing to herself, Stella looks up at the great being "Sorry for venting a bit to you, if there is any assistance you could provide me or knowledge that could be imparted I would be grateful. Though I know I had a question initially I honestly can't even remember what it was anymore"

Spoiler: OOC

Show

GAH its so annoying getting shunted around all the time lol

Know Abstract: (1d20+12)[20] - Trying to figure out where I might be.
Sense Motive: (1d20+10)[27] - Trying to get a sense of Ulbeelta and his disposition towards me and what help I may receive.

[Mornings]

"Perhaps it is not that you have forgotten, but rather you were not allowed to remember. I am not a creature bound to the whims of your reality. The same cannot be said for you." Stella hadn't really considered that. Even when she had returned to Duvan, Lapalila had no memories of most of their recent experiences together. History had been replaced with another series of events. Though as such a powerful Witch, she was not unsettled by Stella's alleged crossing into the Inverse. After all, it was a thing which was imperceptible. She was perhaps the only mortal being with awareness of it, and her respective place within it. Ulbeelta's words were evidently true. For if he was also bound to the other-side of 'the real', he likely would not have remembered her, or at the very least their encounter would have been different. Perhaps she had also lost something precious, something formless when she was thrown into this 'other face' of existence.

The great wolf seemed indifferent towards Stella, though her presence was certainly unexpected. Their previous encounter had not been a personal endeavor, and he did not appear to hold any lingering feelings towards it. Be that as it may, she couldn't be certain just how useful the D'Inlé would be, after all, she had failed to call upon him properly since last they met. She had no way of knowing just what grand laws such a cosmic being was beholden too, or the mind of a beast fashioned from the very stars. [Stella: Sense Motive - Success]

Stella had been somewhat fond of fairytales and legends, but even she was not exceptionally well-versed in the more esoteric teachings of the Veil Cults and Ros'wussrun cosmology. On a good day she was not familiar with the realm of L'Chandal. She was certain she was still in L'Chandal, but its prime material form had been unmade by Adessa's ungodly Severance curse. A World Veil, which simply unraveled its very being. With what little she remembered from her basic magic lessons, every plane possessed a minimum of six existential phases - iterations of the various layers which comprised their whole. Those were the words at least... But she was bereft of any meaningful context without Alicia's mind. She was still in L'Chandel, based on the darkness and stars, this was the Crucible. For the Vet'cnros of the Black, it was similar to a forge with which they could smith their most powerful veil-spells... But she had no way of knowing just how far down she'd fallen in the proverbial 'stack' of existential phases. At the very least, she assumed it couldn't have been that far... After all, she was still alive. It was like diving very deep in the ocean. Eventually the pressure would crush you, and if you fell too quickly, you'd simply 'pop', obliterated from existence. [Stella: Knowledge Abstract - Partial]

"So it would seem... but I do not think she would have meant to place you this deep." A sudden sinking feeling begun to well up in Stella's stomach upon hearing the great wolf's words. "Perhaps the Council was so preoccupied with you, they forgot what it was like to be terrorized by your master. No other answer might explain this carelessness and the fate of L'Chandal... As far as your 'powers' are concerned. They were mostly borrowed from the Elghin'Mados. Perhaps none who knew you thought to mention something so, rudimentary. Or perhaps they'd reason to see you turned towards another path. Adessa Allessa trained you in her tradition. Of course your power would stem from the same source. Your magic, the force you personally control, has not been lessened in any meaningful way. Only your faith. Adessa is a zealot. Yet, that is the well from which her might is drawn. The deeper the faith, the greater the blessing. Surely, even you know of this." Stella was dumbfounded. Of course she knew of divine casting, but she had not known her past-life magics were divine in nature, nor had she any reason to believe as much. The realization had almost made her wince, finally understanding her master's outrage at her proposition. The entire weight of her worldly powers were tied to the same divine being she had casually spurned as an afterthought. She wondered, just how many of her enemies within Duvan knew this. Intentionally leading her away from her previous path, keeping her under their thumb and removing her as a threat. The further she had drifted from this strange god, the further she had drifted from her might in a world now forgotten.

Ulbeelta seemed to take note of Stella's sudden realization. "...You didn't know. How unfortunate." His last words seemed to hang in the infinite expanse of space for a painfully long time. "Much of your misery, and the misery your actions have wrought could have been avoided knowing this. I suppose this explains your recklessness, even absent of your master. You will forever be left to wander, alone, without hope until you commit yourself to a Tradition. Your kith and kin, Vet'cnros hold three, and though I hold an accord with your kind, I favor none of your people's cultures. You could just as well abandon each of them and seek another. The Sunjatha'la and Ros'wussrun possess their own traditions as well, though earning your place among their kind might prove challenging, but attainable." Right now, Stella wished she still had Alicia to remind her of the Casting Traditions of Duvan. It was too... scholastic, for her mind to recall. But Ulbeelta was right, everything started and ended with the Traditions. Though she was of another race, it was not unheard of for some Witches to seek admittance into the Casting Tradition of another race. "You cannot be taught. You cannot learn, and you cannot survive navigating the Second World if you lack what even children possess. You must decide which tradition you will follow. Only then can you cease these wanderings throughout the world, and navigate the Passages properly."

Spoiler: Character Advancement

Show

CHARACTER STATUS
⮙ Focus: 16/16 ¦ ⮙ Mana: 3/6 ¦ ⮙ Memory: 4 ¦ ⮟ Spite: 1
※SEVERANCE EXPERIENCE: 2xp
※WEAVE EXPERIENCE: 175xp
※VEIL EXPERIENCE: 1,000xp
⮯ Corrupted Fate (Ra'Dolfaal)

STELLA'S EXPERIENCE (217,750xp) ^{(⮸ +30), (⮸ +55) - Casting Traditions, (⮸ +100) - Past-Life Magic}

STELLA'S INFLUENCES
※SOVEREIGNTY ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※NOBILITY ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※DISCOVERY ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 3% (3/100 EXP) (+1)
※TRAVEL ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 2% (2/100 EXP)
※VEIL ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※EVIL ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※CURSE ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 3% (3/100 EXP) (+1)
※MEMORY ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 3% (3/100 EXP) (+1)
※WORLDS ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 3% (3/100 EXP) (+1)
※FATE ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※TIME ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※FAITH ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 3% (3/100 EXP) (+1)
※ASCENSION ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※TRANSCENDENT ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※APPRENTICE ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 2% (2/100 EXP) (+1)
※DREAMS ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 2% (2/100 EXP)
※ANCESTORS ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※ORIGIN ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 2% (2/100 EXP) (+1)
※DIVINITY ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※DREAMWORLDS ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※LEGENDS ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※PAST-LIFE ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 3% (3/100 EXP) (+1)
※REINCARNATION ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 3% (3/100 EXP) (+1)
※CASTING TRADITION ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP) (+1)

[forg99rules]

Stella experienced a twinge of embarrassment when she realized how her previous powers had functioned. This feeling quickly transformed into hatred as she understood that others had intentionally or unintentionally kept this information from her. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Stella allowed her mind to wander, sifting through various memories as she tried to determine the best course of action. The option of appeasing the Scion of Dark Seasons... or Milk was almost off the table, given the trouble she had caused with them. Though it could be mended, who knew how long that would take? The House of Black hadn't bothered to inform her about her powers either, despite knowing that she lacked a proper understanding of them. Thus, it was not a suitable choice either. The Mados tradition consistently held the forefront of her thoughts, considering that Adessa had been her teacher, and she still regarded her as such. Ultimately, it was a fairly straightforward decision, even though she wasn't certain of its potential repercussions in the long run.

"This has been very enlightening. So, I need to pick a Tradition... hmmm... I don't think I will bother with The Sunjatha'la and Ros'wussrun Traditions I feel like I tried to get a teacher for something like that and it bit me in the butt. I am, of course, a Vet'cnros and a Student of Adessa first and foremost. Since others likely chose to withhold this knowledge from me, I will return to my roots and serve the Mados once more. However, before I take my leave, I do have a couple of other questions that I hope you may be able to answer."

Stella remembered a significant issue that she had no idea how to address. Also, she was curious about another facet of her situation. "Would you happen to know how I can fix my Corrupted Fate? I don't fully understand the situation regarding it or what can be done to remedy it, but I fear it may cause even more issues."

As she considered her next question, Stella realized that it might not apply to Ulbeelta, but it was essential to her. "How would I be able to return to my original reality? I understand that I am in the Inverse, and the situation does not affect or apply to you, but it would be helpful to understand how one might move between the two."

Spoiler: OOC

Show

**** it back to my roots LOL

Know Abstract: (1d20+12)[28] OR (1d20+12)[14] - Trying to remember how to get back into the Mados Tradition, like what needs done to really "Accept" it
(Just remembered I get to roll twice and take the highest lol)

Know Abstract: (1d20+12)[32] OR (1d20+12)[31] - Trying to figure out how I would take my leave being a mortal and all that fun stuff... assume Ulbeelta might just send me off lol

[Mornings]

Stella could feel the focus and calm of her mind return. A connection with the collective wisdom of the ancestors established once again. Though in the past she had very little experience in the way of joining the Veil Cults of the Mados, she could recall the theoretical way to go about doing so. Adessa had practically raised her in the tradition, so it had been the only thing she had known. To those born outside the tradition, the Witch would need to seek out a faithful servant of the Mados and offer her oaths at a shrine of the Cult. If it was accepted, she would be allowed to join the Sacred Coven of Black. The Sacred Coven was the organization which presided over all of the Veil Cults of the Mados, which were smaller independent groups of eclectic Witches who mostly were isolated in their own lives and practices. Adessa was the supreme authority and held the title of Black Hexe. It was not a rank recognized in Duvan, but held the authority as the Hexen herself within the Veil Cults. There, she was worshipped as a near god-like being who was the voice of the Mados in the lower worlds. To make an offering would require fragments of life-essence. A resource harvested from living intelligent beings. [Stella: Knowledge Abstract - Success]

There were numerous spells and powerful abilities which could bend the realms and fold reality. With sufficient aptitude and mental strength, even the power of spell focus was capable of pulling a powerful caster out of a plane. There were even veils capable of similar or more dramatic effects. If she had her wand, she might even be able to manage such a feat, though it would have likely been incredibly costly. Unfortunately, she was lacking in all of those things presently. There was very little she could do without seeking a nuclear options... like using the names of powerful beings and hoping she didn't cause any lasting, permanent damage; or expending her own memories for a fragment of her former power, but thereby destroying herself in the process. While Stella did not fully understand the ancestor's warnings, she knew that depleting her memory was a manner of harm which lessened the very ego and unraveled the echo's of her life-essence, casting the pieces of herself and the Fates bound to them unto the Midnight Between. A loss which could never be undone. [Stella: Knowledge Abstract - Partial]

"A Fate corrupted is not so easily mended. Any being beyond the Inverse might set it right, but it is not an intervention which should be made lightly. It is forbidden to interfere so grandly with the supplicants of another. If you would follow the Mados. The Mados must fix it. Though you will need to make a grand offering. Do not let that idle for longer than you must. Such things have a malicious, often ruinous purpose. The beings which guard the Passages, enforce balance and guide the spirits are restless and wild without a Lord. Given enough time, they might seduce a Fate, leading it astray and towards some calamitous end. Such Fates have betrayed the Garden and must be set right. In the most favorable case, only you might be destroyed, but the results are likely far more expansive and egregious. You will not be able to return to your side of the Inverse while you carry a Corrupted Fate. Best to be rid of it quickly."

Spoiler: Character Advancement

Show

CHARACTER STATUS
⮙ Focus: 16/16 ¦ ⮙ Mana: 3/6 ¦ ⮙ Memory: 4 ¦ ⮟ Spite: 1
※SEVERANCE EXPERIENCE: 2xp
※WEAVE EXPERIENCE: 175xp
※VEIL EXPERIENCE: 1,000xp
⮯ Corrupted Fate (Ra'Dolfaal)

STELLA'S EXPERIENCE (217,800xp) ^{(⮸ +15), (⮸ +10) - Casting Traditions, (⮸ +25) - Travel}

STELLA'S INFLUENCES
※SOVEREIGNTY ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※NOBILITY ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※DISCOVERY ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 4% (4/100 EXP) (+1)
※TRAVEL ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 3% (3/100 EXP) (+1)
※VEIL ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※EVIL ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※CURSE ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 3% (3/100 EXP)
※MEMORY ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 4% (4/100 EXP) (+1)
※WORLDS ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 4% (4/100 EXP) (+1)
※FATE ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 2% (2/100 EXP) (+1)
※TIME ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※FAITH ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 4% (4/100 EXP) (+1)
※ASCENSION ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※TRANSCENDENT ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※APPRENTICE ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 3% (3/100 EXP) (+1)
※DREAMS ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 2% (2/100 EXP)
※ANCESTORS ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 2% (2/100 EXP) (+1)
※ORIGIN ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 2% (2/100 EXP)
※DIVINITY ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※DREAMWORLDS ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※LEGENDS ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※PAST-LIFE ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 4% (4/100 EXP) (+1)
※REINCARNATION ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 4% (4/100 EXP) (+1)
※CASTING TRADITION ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 2% (2/100 EXP) (+1)

[forg99rules]

Feeling the link established with her ancestors was interesting, she turned her attention briefly to it as well tried to think of ways that she could use it in her current state. Another sigh escaped Stellas lips, "Well then sounds like I need to find a Grand Offering sooner rather than later..." Turning her mind to Ulbeelta's words made Stella wonder exactly how Grand of an Offering she would need to make for the Mados to get rid of her corrupted fate. "Your assistance and knowledge has been most appreciated, if I ever have a chance to return the favor I most certainly will. I believe though that it is best that I get going for now." Taking a look around and thinking for a second time, "You wouldn't happen to be able to send me over to Adessa or somewhere that I might be able to work on that Grand offering, would you? The only way I can think to leave this place would be very destructive or detrimental as it would most likely involve going against the knowledge you have previously imparted to me, and I rather like living and not causing any problems for you."

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Know Abstract: (1d20+12)[14] OR (1d20+12)[26] - Trying to figure out if there is a way to use the link or what it means
Know Abstract: (1d20+12)[25] OR (1d20+12)[25] - Since the Mados wants life essence I am trying to figure out how much might be needed to be considered GRAND lol
Know Abstract: (1d20+12)[27] OR (1d20+12)[18] - Looking for information regarding Passages, not sure if I've done this before
Know Abstract: (1d20+12)[22] OR (1d20+12)[31] - Looking for information regarding Fates
Know Abstract: (1d20+12)[22] OR (1d20+12)[22] - Looking for information on what exactly he means by Lords in regards to Passages

[Stevesciguy]

Erik nodded to himself as the Witch confirmed that there was more than one being out there who could eject him from a Passage, stopping when she mentioned "his betters." Erik still knew nothing about his place in the scheme of things in his new position. As grand as the title "Lord of Ashurbanipal" sounded, he seemed to be a little fish in a very, very large pond. Perhaps the fish could grow, but when and how? The man who could answer that was banished off to wherever the rest of Ashurbanipal was.

It didn't surprise Erik that the Witches had never eaten before. What did surprise him was that the concept was so foreign to them that E'Dene casually spit the food up as if that was the intent. He briefly wondered if she'd never met a mortal before dismissing the idea. Likely she had, though maybe never under circumstances where the topic of food would ever come up.

He tried to square the image of a young woman gently sipping stew in front of him with the utter malice of the spell she'd just attempted on him. Of course, appearance meant nothing even on Golarion, much less here. He'd met men built like himself completely lacking spine, and in Willowbrook he'd watched a girl barely more than a child damn near split reality in half attempting to slow a monster born from nightmares. Still, the juxtaposition was disturbing. He could only imagine that if their capacity for magic was so incomprehensible, so too was their capacity for hate.

Erik had virtually no time to react in the moments between... whatever it was he'd just felt and being at the business end of the wands of two beings who could do much worse than simply kill him. It struck him as odd that E'Dene vouched for him - he wasn't arrogant enough to believe that a single bite of stew was enough to change her mind - but nonetheless he felt a small amount of relief that she hadn't decided to take her chance to get rid of him. He rubbed his throat with one hand as the Witches had their rapid fire conversation, throwing names and titles he didn't, couldn't recognize.

The fragments of memories that weren't his still flickered around the periphery of his conciousness, tempting him with the prospect of plucking knowledge from out of thin air. He pushed them aside as best he could. He knew where they came from - and even the Primarch herself has warned him against reaching into those memories too much. He needed to know more about it before he started allowing those little flashes of insight back into his head.

There was one name he recognized. Adessa. The Witch who had appeared in the stasis. Beyond that, he knew little, other than the Librarian didn't seem fond of her.

Erik nodded as Esk'Jola addressed him. He understood her far less than the other two. E'Dene wanted him dead, plain and simple. Se'Jaine had wanted him alive, imprisoned, though he couldn't fathom what use a man in a cage could serve. But Esk'Jola had wanted him trained, and far more than the training itself, what she wanted him trained for concerned him. Finally, now, he may find out if he was lucky. But more immediate matters took precedence.

Looking at Esk'Jola - or the brim of her hat, as the case may be - he spoke.

"What are the circumstances? I felt something... vanish. Die. Was that light from there?"

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Might as well make some sense motive rolls, can't hurt(right? )

Just generally on what they seem to be thinking right now

Sense Motive E'Dene: (1d20+12)[13]

Sense Motive Se'Jaine: (1d20+12)[30]

Sense Motive Esk'Jola: (1d20+12)[14]

After feeling that, Erik wants to see if he can feel any more about what just happened(rolled in ooc thread): (1d20+12)[13]

Used a reroll on the perception roll, also in ooc. Result copied here for convenience
Reroll: (1d20+12)[23]

[Mornings]

Otherworld, Lesser Ashurbanipal
L’Chandal, The Crucible
Winter AR 4716, 12th of Calistril,
Fireday, 10:06 AM

"Ashurbanipal is a parasite, leeching off the corpse of dying worlds." "That is why he must be imprisoned." "That is why he must be dead." "Enough!" Esk'Jola raised her hand to silence the bickering sisters, before gesturing Erik back to the dinning hall where he found a seat at the table. The disagreement between them was a difference in opinion which ran deep, still the oldest Justice maintained control of the situation. Erik begun to understand from E'Dene's emotional display that her resentment wasn't necessarily directed at himself, but the Great Library itself. He was merely standing in the middle of those bitter feelings. Se'Jaine's priority seemed to lean more towards containing him personally, as if that would somehow better control the threat. Esk'Jola on the other hand remained difficult to gauge. [Erik: Sense Motive - Partial]

Inside his heart, he could feel something turning within. A warm coiling gust of heat and fire. It was an untapped energy, a force sapped from some elemental world far away. Glimpses. Small flashes of something rolled around in the back of his mind. It was like loose copper coins rattling around in a jar. Clanging, Sounding some raucous plea to not be forgotten. Then there was a howl. A burning cacophony. A man with hard rough-cut eyes that gleamed in sunset. A young girl, deathly pale, with eyes like stubbornness and struggle. Then there was a white blade. An empty rocking chair. An abandoned house. A wilting black. A terrible fire and melting iron cells... He remembered those cells, and that terrible red light. The fires of Willowbrook. [Erik: Perception - Failure]

He steadied himself as he found his place in his seat, a great burden now weighing down upon him. "Regardless of the circumstance. It is true. Ashurbanipal poses a great threat to many worlds. However, killing you, would not stop the key from emerging again somewhere else in the worlds." The remark seemed as if it were aimed more at someone else. "...There are ways to deal with that." The senior Justice waved her hand dismissively. "Tsk." The Witch clicked her tongue and walked away. "It is more productive if the powers of the Library could be exercised, responsibly. But you cannot be trusted with that responsibility while you little more than a feral beast..." The seasoned warrior had a feeling that her comment wasn't just aimed at his lack of knowledge. Perhaps such beings viewed all mortals as one might see a dog or other domesticated animal. A 'feral' beast was not useful, but a 'house-trained' animal was different. It could find a place within a home and become part of the proverbial 'family', albeit still an animal. It was an insightful analogy.

"As the circumstances have changed, I offer you four choices..." He hadn't been expecting that many, but it potentially gave him more to work with. "Option one. Relinquish your right to the Passage of Kathe unto me. Then perhaps we may speak more of the future." Erik didn't fully understand the significance of those words, but he could assume by all of their previous ramblings, that this was ultimately their greatest concern as Esk'Jola seemed to prioritize the interests of her realm above all else. "Option two... Die." E'Dene seemed to whip around in the distance, eavesdropping on the exchange. "As the Key Bearer to the Betwixt, the proposed value of merely killing you and taking the Key is undeniable. It is easy to understand how one might ransom the Key, or utilize it as leverage against the forces of the Mados, or to merely to curry favor with the Mados itself. It is a lucrative certainty, while your own value remains... An uncertainty."

Erik could feel a dampness bead on his brow, but his features remained placid, betraying none of the alarm he could feel welling up inside. It was a terrible revelation. If he could simply be murdered and robbed for such an unfathomably powerful artifact, he was no better than a walking piñata covered in steel. He could not even imagine just what number of unspeakable things might also be attracted to the burden he carried. How many cataclysmic plots would be puppeted afar by some slew of nameless god-things all seeking on his death. Even those beings before him could not dismiss the appeal... He was going to need a bigger sword.

"Option three. Make amends. Do whatever you can within your power to set things right with the Mados. Earn its favor, and the favor of those loyal to it. Right now you are a liability to any who might deign to aid you. Few with the power to make a difference could afford to stand as your ally, least their worlds be destroyed utterly. None, save for individuals absent anything to lose, can afford to lend you aid. That means very little against such a force. Remedy this and you may yet prove you are an asset, not a hazard. It will not be easy or quick, but it is always slower to build than it is to destroy." The grizzled man hadn't thought it possible to 'make amends' with whatever beings he'd angered with his foolishness. Though he took note that even this was not being proposed as a 'solution', but a way forward.

"Option four. The last option. Remain here. Our prisoner. A slave to Kathe. The Lord of Passages still holds some uses, even in his infancy. When you are too useless, dangerous, or when it is in the best interest of our people, you will be thrown to the hounds which pursue you, or killed, if such holds greater merit. If you will not be an ally to the Second World, you will be its resource instead." In a way he could appreciate the harsh frankness. He'd prefer the cards were on table, rather than all of the convoluted games of cat-and-mouse. Of course, they could not lie to him directly, but the Justice didn't have to be so flagrant either. "Currently, these are your options. Now choose."

Spoiler: Character Advancement

Show

CHARACTER STATUS
⮟ Spite: 2 ¦ ⮙ Fragments: 2335
⮯ Trait - Corrupted Fate, Frozen Eternal: The Cursed cannot benefit from energy reduction or energy immunity to frost or ice-effects from any source other than divine traits. The damage and the duration of these effects is four-times more effective against the Cursed.

ERIK'S EXPERIENCE (69,540xp) ^{[⮯ Abstract -3,450] ¦ ⮸ (+60xp) ¦ ⮸ (+85xp) - Fragment Memories ¦ ⮸ (+30xp) - Motives}

UNIQUE ITEMS
⬖ Acquired - ????: Unidentified Alloy Lancet
⬖ Acquired - ????: Unidentified Glass Rod Restraint x3
⬖ Blue crystal with quicksilver veins
⬖ Black glass fragment
⭍ Key-Bearer: The Key To Midnight

ERIK'S INFLUENCES
※TRUTH ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 3% (3/100 EXP) (+1)
※SECRETS ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※CAUTION ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 3% (3/100 EXP) (+1)
※DEATH ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※OMENS ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※CURSE ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 2% (2/100 EXP)
※DESTINY ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※FATE ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※REALITY ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 2% (2/100 EXP) (+1)
※MARTIAL ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※TIME ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 2% (2/100 EXP) (+1)
※BLACK ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 2% (2/100 EXP) (+1)
※VOID ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※DESTRUCTION ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※COURAGE ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※BRAVERY ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※GUARDIAN ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※WARDEN ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※HEROISM ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※LORD ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 3% (3/100 EXP) (+1)
※RECLAIMER ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※OTHERWORLD ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 2% (2/100 EXP)
※SALVATION ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※ANNIHILATION ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 2% (2/100 EXP)
※PENANCE ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 2% (2/100 EXP) (+1)
※ASTRAY ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※SEALS ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※WORLDS ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 2% (2/100 EXP)
※CORRUPTION ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※SLAIN ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※RETURNED ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※DIVERGED ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※WONDER ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※MOTIVES ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP) (+1)
※KEY-BEARER ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP) (+1)

[Stevesciguy]

Ashurbanipal posed a threat. In the short time Erik had had with him, the Librarian spoke of Ashurbanipal as if it were simply one Passage among many. Was every Passage a threat? If the key he'd found belonged to any other Passage, would he be here now? Or was Ashurbanipal unique?

In the stasis, the Surveyor, Sparrow, had called the twisted version of Willowbrook they'd woken up in a prison. Was Ashurbanipal itself the prisoner?

Erik listened intently as Esk'Jola listed off his options. Relinquish. Die. Rebuild. Imprisonment. Two of those were already advocated for by the other Justices. And yet here he was...

Erik wasn't sure whether what he was about to do was stupid or brilliant. It took a strange kind of man to question what may as well have been a god compared to someone like him.

But he'd survived it the first time.

"I have one question to ask, if you'll allow me, before I choose. Just one."

Erik leaned forward in his seat. He couldn't really look into the eyes of the Witch, with the brim of her cap in the way, but he looked at the point on her brim where they would've been. He doubted that her cap impeded her vision in any meaningful way.

"One of your companions has advocated for my death since you first arrived. The other, my imprisonment. If you had agreed with either course of action, you'd have executed me, or left me to rot here, to be forgotten or worse. Instead you chose to train me. I've been thrown from world to world, in the last few months I've seen more than most archmages from my reality would see in their lifetime."

One last, singular word fell out of Erik's mouth like a brick. The word that had been ricocheting off the inside of his skull for the last three years.

"Why?"

Spoiler: OoC

Show

More sense motive checks wooo
E'Dene: (1d20+12)[28]

Se'Jaine: (1d20+12)[30]

Esk'Jola: (1d20+12)[13]

[flat_footed]

It wasn't just the Dohl'Denka. The wolf and Saint Rothe each took their own turns answering his thoughts. Miryks let their voices cascade over him as he took in their wisdom. Even here, in this place, certain truths of the world peeked through. The strong watched out for the weak. If nothing else, it was one thing that made sense. What was difficult to wrap his mind around was why. Why they seemed willing to help a supplicant such as himself, especially considering the Dohl'Denka's recent words. 'Supplicants must walk.' Initially it seemed like this was simply a typical hierarchy thing, but now he wasn't so sure. These creatures could well enough leave me to my own devices, stumbling forward as a lemming would. He wasn't a foot soldier, being made to walk while his Captain sat astride a horse.

Miryks took a moment to focus on the creatures around him, both big and small. [Sense Lesser Nightmare Spirits] He clearly wasn't the strongest, but neither was he the weakest. There was an entire ecosystem of Spirits here, from the first sparks of life to the last flickers of dying embers. There was no grumbling, no infighting that he could detect. Any other host of this size would invariably have conflict within its ranks. Was it respect? Fear? He couldn't quite put his finger on it but his mind strove to understand. Clarity of purpose, a united goal? That would be something to join all of these individuals together, a shared desire. Is it strong enough to override more selfish thoughts and goals?

"Do we march to war, against the Nightmare King?" Miryks allowed the question hang in the air for a moment, allowing his wings to beat for half a moment while keeping his feet on the ground. "I can feel the changes and strength that have become a part of me by the Rite. The March has rewarded me in ways I would not have believed, since following the call to Mortfield. Who am I, who are any in our number, that the Unsung King saw fit to create, even reward, us? Do our former worlds serve as offering in some way for this boon of power?"

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Oneiroclast - (1d20+15)[25] The blessings as one of the Thousand
Sense Doom - (1d20+68)[71] The Influence of the Unsung King on this host

[Mornings]

Otherworld, Lesser Ashurbanipal
L’Chandal, The Crucible
Winter AR 4716, 12th of Calistril,
Fireday, 10:07 AM

E'Dene was pacing on the far side of the room, irritated and impatient at the whole ordeal. Evidently she did not approve. Se'Jaine seemed mostly indifferent, leaning against a wall listening. Though Erik's last question seemed to have irked her. She quietly glared daggers at him, as if his prodding were some unforgivable hubris. [Erik: Sense Motive - Partial]

Behind her hat Esk'Jola's expression was impossible to see. Even with all his effort, he couldn't crack the enigma. The memories were muddled, the world was esoteric and he struggled to piece together the pieces and visions. He simply did not know enough. The Justice raised a hand to quiet him. "You have not earned the right to ask anything of me. Now choose. Or I will choose for you."

Spoiler: Character Advancement

Show

CHARACTER STATUS
⮟ Spite: 2 ¦ ⮙ Fragments: 2335
⮯ Trait - Corrupted Fate, Frozen Eternal: The Cursed cannot benefit from energy reduction or energy immunity to frost or ice-effects from any source other than divine traits. The damage and the duration of these effects is four-times more effective against the Cursed.

ERIK'S EXPERIENCE (69,570xp) [SUP][⮯ Abstract -3,450] ¦ ⮸ (+30xp)

UNIQUE ITEMS
⬖ Acquired - ????: Unidentified Alloy Lancet
⬖ Acquired - ????: Unidentified Glass Rod Restraint x3
⬖ Blue crystal with quicksilver veins
⬖ Black glass fragment
⭍ Key-Bearer: The Key To Midnight

ERIK'S INFLUENCES
※TRUTH ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 4% (4/100 EXP) (+1)
※SECRETS ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※CAUTION ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 4% (4/100 EXP) (+1)
※DEATH ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※OMENS ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※CURSE ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 2% (2/100 EXP)
※DESTINY ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※FATE ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※REALITY ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 2% (2/100 EXP)
※MARTIAL ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※TIME ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 2% (2/100 EXP)
※BLACK ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 2% (2/100 EXP)
※VOID ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※DESTRUCTION ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※COURAGE ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※BRAVERY ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※GUARDIAN ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※WARDEN ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※HEROISM ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※LORD ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 3% (3/100 EXP)
※RECLAIMER ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※OTHERWORLD ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 2% (2/100 EXP)
※SALVATION ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※ANNIHILATION ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 2% (2/100 EXP)
※PENANCE ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 2% (2/100 EXP)
※ASTRAY ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※SEALS ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※WORLDS ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 2% (2/100 EXP)
※CORRUPTION ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※SLAIN ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※RETURNED ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※DIVERGED ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※WONDER ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※MOTIVES ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 2% (2/100 EXP) (+1)
※KEY-BEARER ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)

[Mornings]

"An escape which violates my law, is no escape at all. Do not become a problem for me, or I will become a problem for you." There was an immense weight behind the solar-being's words. A warning. As if the cosmos might tumble down upon her. Like the sky might threaten to collapse beneath the wrath of stars. "Strangely, I sense now, even if you were to depart. Your path would be impeded... So I suppose you must wait."

The connection to the ancestors wisdom was one of the traits of a Veil Witch. They each belonged to an unbroken chain of successors, bound by a limitless curse. While a Veil Witch was not a mortal, she was not an eternal being either. Inevitably her life-essence would wane and she would vanish from the world, unable to continue her physical existence. This was the closest thing to 'death' a Veil Witch knew. When this happened they joined the Nst'Ænor; the World Veil which bound all Vet'Cnros souls together. When a Veil Witch reached the first stages of magical maturity. She learned how to connect with the Veil sown with her predecessors spirits by quieting her mind, to listen to the whispers which shared their secrets and revealed the hidden truths of the strange and abstract. This was more than a psychological change, but a stage of physical growth as well. This first step was known as 'L'Alshar', or the focused mind, and was typically seen as the initial signs of having begun pubescent development for Vet'Cnros. Young Witches were often extremely embarrassed to speak of, or admit they had begun to experience their L'Alshar. As the Witch matured, she learned to strengthen her connection with the ancestors, then learned 'greater minds' which opened her esoteric consciousness to even greater Veils. A fully grown Veil Witch eventually inherited the unknowable depths of awareness which allowed her to commune with the Pale Lady and command the Black. This was seen as the precipice of Vet'Cnros ability, however Adessa was said to have been capable of beseeching the Mados directly. A feat impossible for all who came before her. [Stella: Knowledge Abstract - Success]

Stella was not exceptionally knowledgeable about the Mados, but the whispers mutely chattered in her ears. Nearly anything could be offered to the Mados, but physical things likely was not enough to be considered 'grand' or special in any way. She would need to accomplish something to distinguish herself from those others who also vied for its favor and attentions. It was not so simple a thing, nor was there any precedent for just what form such a labor might take. Only the truly blessed who had heard the voice of the Mados could even begin to interpret its will. She would have to work towards a deeper understanding with the aid of a Cult. [Stella: Knowledge Abstract - Partial]

The true definition of what a Passage was... It was similar to asking what 'magic' or a 'Veil' was. It was both simple, and needlessly complex. So much so, Stella could not even understand the occult jargon babbling in her mind. Many words. Meaningless words. She didn't understand. At some basic level, a Passage was simply a plane, or even a demi-plane. All of these things could be 'Passages'. A Passage was a plane, but not all planes were Passages. She didn't really understand the distinction. Regardless, some of these Passages allowed secure travel between the Three Worlds. Some even ensure the stability of various planes, allowing its denizens to resist being thrown into the Otherworlds, or allowing for direct traversal without having to rely on 'back doors' and suspicious characters like the Ra'Dolfaal to smuggle her between these distinct universes. Supposedly these cosmic structures were controlled by a being known as the Lord of Passages, and the Goddess; D'Okkolah'rahn. [Stella: Knowledge Abstract - Partial]

Fates were less of a mystery. Stella had learned much from Alicia in that regard while training herself to Spellweave. Fates were the threads of the Weave. Each thread was a Destined Fate, an event or series of events which would define or conclude some cosmic divination sewn into existence. They were the fabric of reality and allowed for things to exist, underlying the rules - Up was up, down was down. Fire was hot, ice was cold. Every fundamental certainty down to the elemental layers and predictability of the seen and unseen was dictated by the Fates. Of course, they were not necessarily idle and unmoving things. Sometimes they could be tampered with, much in the same way she did when she twisted the threads to produce her spells in the past. Damaging or corrupting a Fate could change something fundamental; there was almost no limit to the potential damage such carelessness could cause. Such matters were indescribably complex if studied beyond a surface level, but she didn't understand much more than that, she merely twisted the the threads to make strange shapes and unleashed impossible spells. [Stella: Knowledge Abstract - Partial]

A new voice begun to quietly recount an ancient tale in Stella's ear. When Elahkhuur divided reality into the Three Worlds with her fierce blade, the Three Kings - The Nightmare King, The Unsung King and The Witch King agreed to divide their Laws among their Successor Lords. The Lords inherited these godly powers as vested subjects to their lieges, for a time. The Three Kings were bound by the rulings of The Wheel & Council, in addition to the Justices of the Otherworlds appointed by the Three Houses of the Third World, all in the hope that the great war which split apart the Garden might never be waged again. However, the Successor Lords were not beholden to this same administration, laundering their powers in secret to these vessels. Each Lord ruled over a manner of deific domain, in the form of a realm of concept. Their presence brought with it stability and order to otherwise chaotic spaces of reality and punished those who might needlessly act out - such as the Ra'dolfaal. Without the Lords to keep such beings in-line, they ran rampant and wild... Though inevitably the Successor Lords brought more harm than good... But that was a story for another time. [Stella: Knowledge Abstract - Partial]

Spoiler: Character Advancement

Show

CHARACTER STATUS
⮙ Focus: 16/16 ¦ ⮙ Mana: 3/6 ¦ ⮙ Memory: 4 ¦ ⮟ Spite: 1
※SEVERANCE EXPERIENCE: 2xp
※WEAVE EXPERIENCE: 175xp
※VEIL EXPERIENCE: 1,000xp
⮯ Corrupted Fate (Ra'Dolfaal)

STELLA'S EXPERIENCE (218,000xp) ^{(⮸ +35), (⮸ +55) - Successor Lords, (⮸ +100) - D'Okkolah'rahn, (⮸ +10) - L'Alshar}


STELLA'S INFLUENCES
※SOVEREIGNTY ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 2% (2/100 EXP) (+1)
※NOBILITY ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 2% (2/100 EXP) (+1)
※DISCOVERY ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 5% (5/100 EXP) (+1)
※TRAVEL ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 4% (4/100 EXP) (+1)
※VEIL ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 2% (2/100 EXP) (+1)
※EVIL ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※CURSE ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 4% (4/100 EXP) (+1)
※MEMORY ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 4% (4/100 EXP)
※WORLDS ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 5% (5/100 EXP) (+1)
※FATE ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 3% (3/100 EXP) (+1)
※TIME ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※FAITH ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 5% (5/100 EXP) (+1)
※ASCENSION ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※TRANSCENDENT ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※APPRENTICE ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 4% (4/100 EXP) (+1)
※DREAMS ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 2% (2/100 EXP)
※ANCESTORS ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 3% (3/100 EXP) (+1)
※ORIGIN ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 3% (3/100 EXP) (+1)
※DIVINITY ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 2% (2/100 EXP) (+1)
※DREAMWORLDS ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※LEGENDS ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 2% (2/100 EXP) (+1)
※PAST-LIFE ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 5% (5/100 EXP) (+1)
※REINCARNATION ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 5% (5/100 EXP) (+1)
※CASTING TRADITION ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 3% (3/100 EXP) (+1)

[Mornings]

The Painter of the Tempest
"Not to war, little beast. We are leaving now. Departing. Taking the Black March." "Unto Holy Doom." The great wolf interjected, "Unto Holy Death." Miryks wasn't sure he understood. Were they marching to die? Could a dream even perish? "We go. Beneath the gaze of gods. Beast, worm and saint. Supplicants all. With humility before their eyes. Into the Holy Void." The towering eerie being that was Saint Rothe hung her head, "We preserve our strength and offer our prayers unto the Void. That we might collect its blessings. Fortifying ourselves to better our chances to emerge from the Rite. Whole and made new."

Miryks shivered as an alarming chill crawled up his face like an itching rash, a knot forming in his stomach. If his body were unchanged, he would have paled and felt his hands become damp at the foreboding haze hanging over him. He could feel malignant eyes upon them, like a vicious seething. The greater he focused the deeper the shriveling terror became, seemingly without end. Trembling like the last leaf in a winter breeze, he finally could take no more. Cutting off his mental connection to his juvenile intuitive sense. He could feel the malice of the Unsung King, and while he did not understand it, he knew the being did not mean them well.
[Miryks: Sense Doom- Success]

There was no response at first to his words, until the Black wolf-creature suddenly burst into cackling laughter. "Rite? You know none. Not yet. Soon you will!" Miryks could feel the darkness lurch, then twist. As if they were walking under great ocean waves and some horrible beast of immeasurable size churned in the dark waters. Something twisted and turned in the black. The Dohl'Denka paused, grasping him in a clawed hand, "Oh, no. What have you done, little beast. What have you done. It is still too early for you..." White circles coiled in the dark. Spinning. Gyrating, Turning and whirling at speeds he could not even describe. Until they were already upon him, snapping across the infinite space between them in an instant. White teeth ripped Miryks from the beasts grasp. Biting into him savagely. The hairy creature clawed at the boney disembodied teeth helplessly, frantically hopping from side to side, "Oh no. Oh no. What have you done! It is far too early, little beast. You have not fortified yourself." "The 'small one' has been chosen. Receive the Blessings of your Rite, First-Taken. We pray your flame goes unextinguished."

One by one the slithering, clawing, horrid beasts raise a claw, tentacle or hand towards him as he was pulled by the teeth into the sky. 'First-Taken. Unextinguished.' A million gibbering voices clacked, hissed and chanted the same as another disembodied maw manifested and bit down into him forcing from him a strained groan. The Dohl'Denka did not have flesh, nor eyes, but he imagined the great lumbering monster would have cried if it were capable of such an act. After finally accepting the futility of its desperate lashing gestures, it raised its hand toward him. "First-Taken... Burn, unextinguished."

Sharply, he was suddenly ripped into the cold featureless void-dark of the abyss. [Miryks: Oneiroclast - Success]

Twirling in his fall, carried at speeds which grinded his skin against the teeth, the jaws slowed, beginning to thrash and toss him about. Grinding there mouths, mutilating his dark flesh. More teeth, more mouths. They swept in from every angle, biting into his legs, his arms, his sides then his face. Ripping off parts of himself like a frenzy of voracious beasts. A set of teeth latched onto his cheek and savagely ripped away part of his hood and face, taking with it an ear. There was no blood. For he was not human. There was only suffering, as he was torn and ripped, eaten alive. [Miryks: Blessing of the Thousand, Flagellation of the Reverend Maw - You suffer 3d6 points of wisdom damage as your sanity is devoured in tribute. In exchange, you gain impossible insight. The Supplicant gains 1d4 points of Memory.]

"So soon... Unexpected. That the First-Taken, be you." Somewhere from across the span of the endless, between the short moments where his torture was lessened, he could feel some manner of being from the void speak out. "Blessed be thy flame..."

Spoiler: Knowledge (Oneiroclast) - Nightmare Magic

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The power of dreams was a terrible thing when left unchecked. Oneiroclast is the primary casting skill of the Ros'wussrun peoples. Too dangerous to be used by the Witches of Duvan, only the Great School of E'Spdon Valdruk taught Nightmare Witches how to harness its terrible power. Within the Nightmare Worlds, its ability to shape the Dream was an immense power. Yet, it was a sinister force, constantly drawn by the will of the Hunger, causing all such manipulations to snap back upon themselves, like a cosmic rubber-band, to implode in the hands of would-be Witches. It required countless years of training and remarkable arcane aptitude to master the magics of the Dream and wrest its secrets free.

Spoiler: Character Advancement

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CHARACTER STATUS
⮙ Memory: 0
※Oneiroclast Experience: 50 ^{(⮸ +50xp)}

MIRYKS'S EXPERIENCE (8,830xp) ^{(⮸ +25xp) , (⮸ +55xp) - Doom, (⮸ +10xp) - First-Taken}

MIRYKS'S INFLUENCES
※DREAMS ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 3% (3/100 EXP) (+1)
※NIGHTMARES ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 3% (3/100 EXP) (+1)
※BEASTS ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 3% (3/100 EXP) (+1)
※CELEBRATION ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※RITUAL ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 3% (3/100 EXP) (+1)
※DEATH ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 4% (4/100 EXP) (+1)
※OTHERWORLD ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 3% (3/100 EXP) (+1)
※SPIRITS ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 3% (3/100 EXP) (+1)
※REALITY ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※BLACK ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP) (+1)
※OMENS ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 0% (0/100 EXP)
※DIVINITY ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP)
※FORBIDDEN ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP) (+1)
※DOOM ▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1% (1/100 EXP) (+1)

[Stevesciguy]

Of course it wouldn't be that easy. It was naive to think that a simple change of circumstance would convince them to illuminate him. For now he'd still have to work in the dark.

But he didn't need illumination to see that something was wrong here. Wardens didn't ask their prisoners what their sentence should be. Inexplicably as ever, he was being granted the choice.

His eyes flicked over to where E'Dene placed impatiently. The Witch who'd taken to doting on him even as she called for his death.
Then Se'Jaine. Who had wanted him imprisoned in case he was useful. Though she had never deigned to explain what purpose a mewling kitten in a cage could serve.
And back to Esk'Jola. Who had rejected them both to instead train him for reasons that were beyond his grasp.

He couldn't see the full picture. But he knew it didn't include him walking away. The three Witches had been in this room with him for three years, and even seemed privy to his thoughts, though to what degree he didn't know. They already knew what he would say.

The fires of Willowbrook still burned faintly in his mind. He was looking up at the Auspex again.

The Justice of Kathe had given him an offer, not a choice.

All four of them were just waiting for him to take it.

"Option three. I'll fix whatever I've broken. Difficult as it may be."