Darkness surrounds her, the corridor, the whole scenery painted in greys, in blacks and whites. The corridor subtly slopes downwards and she notices old doors and old traps, signs of combat and of death.
Dust covers everything however- but for the floor which always shows signs of recent use. A chanting can be heard in the distance and there is some light- flickering, pale orange, perhaps some fire struggling against the plane's onmipresent grey.
She enters a hall, a crowd made up of ghouls, ghasts and wights surrounding a Night Hag guarged by four Mezzoloths- the fiend leading some kind of ritual?
((Spot please. Listen and Spellcraft optional!))
The Four Pillars
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*HamsterHyde
- Posts: 29
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
From a safe position she observe and evaluate the situation and the ritual. Cautious and meticulous. Keeping her presence hidden. Not just physically but also the threatening essence of her dark soul.
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*Selebius
- Posts: 1073
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
The ritual is unususal- not something the avarage cult might practice to gain the favours of their patrons or to appease a fiendish protector.
Here souls and life energies are fed to something in the background, some artifact drinking the offerings greedily. The overall mood is one of fear but also expectation, some of the participants showing the sings of intoxiction?
Or perhaps they are experiencing strong visions? She now realizes that something flows back from this thing- from this tiny, twisted piece of metal, wood and stone that rests almost innocently and oddly beautiful on this altar.
Here souls and life energies are fed to something in the background, some artifact drinking the offerings greedily. The overall mood is one of fear but also expectation, some of the participants showing the sings of intoxiction?
Or perhaps they are experiencing strong visions? She now realizes that something flows back from this thing- from this tiny, twisted piece of metal, wood and stone that rests almost innocently and oddly beautiful on this altar.
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*HamsterHyde
- Posts: 29
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
That was an interesting view for her. Twisted, perverse, but somehow beautiful and fascinating. She didn't know yet what she has in front of the bright emeralds that defined her gaze. She was prepare for her next step however she was intrigued by the ritual and the way it was progressing.
Interested on that picture she has in front of her, she decided to let the ritual continue a bit longer, studying it and trying to understand what was 'that' essence flowing back from the artifact.
Silent, the black beast stalked in the darkness of the cave.
Interested on that picture she has in front of her, she decided to let the ritual continue a bit longer, studying it and trying to understand what was 'that' essence flowing back from the artifact.
Silent, the black beast stalked in the darkness of the cave.
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*Selebius
- Posts: 1073
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
The ritual goes on for what seems are hours- fiends and undead coming and going, sacrifices are made and when everything is finished the ground is littered with lifeless bodies, the cultists or petitioners now retreating, leaving that thing alone on the altar.
It feasted on many souls, the fear and the pain, the despair anf hoplessness the sacrifices felt in the last moments of their life- and suddenly Nepheris feels that something in it is alive. She cannot say what it is, or how it is bound to this piece of twisted art but there is simething lurking inside, watching.
The ground drinks the last drops of blood from the sacrifices and the corpses twitch and get up again, the Pillar of Loss (where does this name come from? She cannot remember- a whisper perhaps? Intuition?) bleeding the twisted emotions and energies it just consumed earlier, sending those undead to join the hordes that roam this plane- their souls and minds forwver cursed (or blessed) to experience the true essence of Hades.
It feasted on many souls, the fear and the pain, the despair anf hoplessness the sacrifices felt in the last moments of their life- and suddenly Nepheris feels that something in it is alive. She cannot say what it is, or how it is bound to this piece of twisted art but there is simething lurking inside, watching.
The ground drinks the last drops of blood from the sacrifices and the corpses twitch and get up again, the Pillar of Loss (where does this name come from? She cannot remember- a whisper perhaps? Intuition?) bleeding the twisted emotions and energies it just consumed earlier, sending those undead to join the hordes that roam this plane- their souls and minds forwver cursed (or blessed) to experience the true essence of Hades.
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*HamsterHyde
- Posts: 29
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
Alone in the room she abandon her comfortable mantle behind her. Yet dragging the darkness with her in a form of a black mist that seem emanating from her outline. She approach to the altar, calmly, experimenting every sensation.
"Ah... I see. That's the function the stones were made to fulfill. Sensations."
The slender figure, drawn in black and white, stops an instant bending and gathering a handful of soil to continue her way to the artifact. She feel it, she take it close to her face and smell it. The familiar and nostalgic smell of the ground, the tact of the soil escaping between her long fingers.
"Sensations. That's all about."
Now, in front of the artifact, she inspect it closely. Studying his structure and also the energy that comes from it. And however avoiding to touch it, to disturb it.
"And even so... Can the sensation of not having such be considered so?"
[Reached this point I will appreciate some descriptions related to the artifact and how it feels.]
After the careful examination, always meticulous, she decided to perform another ritual. A ritual designed to speak with the wandering souls. She knew there were many present. Captive perhaps but they where there and it was time to listen what their empty voices have to say.
Extending her hand over the artifact and opening it facing up, she let the soil flow between her fingers over the unholy device.
"Time pass irrevocable, his flow unstoppable. The ground claims the body, now an empty carcass. And the released souls depart to the other world..."
The soil falls over the altar as the words resound in the walls. But soon it is replaced by something else. Now what drips between her fingers is pure water before contained inside a little bottle.
"... The river Styx guide them to the underworld where they must be imprisoned. It is the border between both worlds. But borders can be pierced."
As the words predicted, a dagger pierced her hand. Now over the altar blood is spilled, mixed with soil and water.
"With the words of Caronte I command you lost souls, reveal to me the secrets lying in this cave and the secrets held by this relic!"
"Ah... I see. That's the function the stones were made to fulfill. Sensations."
The slender figure, drawn in black and white, stops an instant bending and gathering a handful of soil to continue her way to the artifact. She feel it, she take it close to her face and smell it. The familiar and nostalgic smell of the ground, the tact of the soil escaping between her long fingers.
"Sensations. That's all about."
Now, in front of the artifact, she inspect it closely. Studying his structure and also the energy that comes from it. And however avoiding to touch it, to disturb it.
"And even so... Can the sensation of not having such be considered so?"
[Reached this point I will appreciate some descriptions related to the artifact and how it feels.]
After the careful examination, always meticulous, she decided to perform another ritual. A ritual designed to speak with the wandering souls. She knew there were many present. Captive perhaps but they where there and it was time to listen what their empty voices have to say.
Extending her hand over the artifact and opening it facing up, she let the soil flow between her fingers over the unholy device.
"Time pass irrevocable, his flow unstoppable. The ground claims the body, now an empty carcass. And the released souls depart to the other world..."
The soil falls over the altar as the words resound in the walls. But soon it is replaced by something else. Now what drips between her fingers is pure water before contained inside a little bottle.
"... The river Styx guide them to the underworld where they must be imprisoned. It is the border between both worlds. But borders can be pierced."
As the words predicted, a dagger pierced her hand. Now over the altar blood is spilled, mixed with soil and water.
"With the words of Caronte I command you lost souls, reveal to me the secrets lying in this cave and the secrets held by this relic!"
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*Selebius
- Posts: 1073
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
Now able to take a closer look at the Pillar of Loss she sees that it is made of some smooth reddish brown wood and harsh, black iron- where the wood has gentle curves and is overall pleasing ro the eye the iron parts are jagged and sharp and twisted, burrowing into the wood like claws in some places, sprouting from it like barbs in other ones.
There are crystals as well, greenish and red, depending on the angle of the light falling upon them- and right now as the only lightsource is the flickering fire from the braziers the crystals seem to change colour randomly. Now as she watches a bit longer she also notices that the pullar is shrinking- from about 3 feet down to one and a half- and looking back she remembers that during the climax of the ritual the whole thing was a lot bigger, wood and metal having moved in a way to form a cage around some crystal heart hidden inside.
For now she feels an unsettling aura of evil and loss, the hunger of the... thing satiated for now, the flow of experiences has stopped.
However she also feels that there is something living- no, existing- inside. Like a soul trapped or a being bound- bot also different, more aware of its existance but also bent to surve one specific purpose.
The ritual completed she learns more- souls are drawn to her to whisper secrets and runours and there are many at this place, their words, which trickle into Nepheris consciousness at first, slowly and subtly but then turn into a violent flood- and now she understands the pillar and the ritual better, drawing on the knowledge lingering in this place.
((Results in white to not spoil it for other players))
The pillar itself drinks the experiences and emotions and energies of the beings sacrificed but also the essence of this plane as well and then is able to share everything with those willing to accept the pillar's blessing.
But there is more- the core of the pillar, the secret of its conection to this plane is a living fiend bound to it- acting as its malevolent core and as a focus for its abilities. The the pillar is drawing from the experiences of this entity as well and at the same time the fiend's presence acts as an anchor, the artifact commited to this plane like some petitioner would be as long as the fiend inhabits it.
******************************************************************************
In the meanwhile, in Sigil, the Sensates prepare an expedition to Mechanus and Factotum Shirala is inviting all who want to participate to join.
((In game event for the Sensates (+allies) about the expedition will be run soon- I will announce it as usual. ))
There are crystals as well, greenish and red, depending on the angle of the light falling upon them- and right now as the only lightsource is the flickering fire from the braziers the crystals seem to change colour randomly. Now as she watches a bit longer she also notices that the pullar is shrinking- from about 3 feet down to one and a half- and looking back she remembers that during the climax of the ritual the whole thing was a lot bigger, wood and metal having moved in a way to form a cage around some crystal heart hidden inside.
For now she feels an unsettling aura of evil and loss, the hunger of the... thing satiated for now, the flow of experiences has stopped.
However she also feels that there is something living- no, existing- inside. Like a soul trapped or a being bound- bot also different, more aware of its existance but also bent to surve one specific purpose.
The ritual completed she learns more- souls are drawn to her to whisper secrets and runours and there are many at this place, their words, which trickle into Nepheris consciousness at first, slowly and subtly but then turn into a violent flood- and now she understands the pillar and the ritual better, drawing on the knowledge lingering in this place.
((Results in white to not spoil it for other players))
The pillar itself drinks the experiences and emotions and energies of the beings sacrificed but also the essence of this plane as well and then is able to share everything with those willing to accept the pillar's blessing.
But there is more- the core of the pillar, the secret of its conection to this plane is a living fiend bound to it- acting as its malevolent core and as a focus for its abilities. The the pillar is drawing from the experiences of this entity as well and at the same time the fiend's presence acts as an anchor, the artifact commited to this plane like some petitioner would be as long as the fiend inhabits it.
******************************************************************************
In the meanwhile, in Sigil, the Sensates prepare an expedition to Mechanus and Factotum Shirala is inviting all who want to participate to join.
((In game event for the Sensates (+allies) about the expedition will be run soon- I will announce it as usual. ))
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*HamsterHyde
- Posts: 29
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
When the ghostly voices faded into the void she glanced at the altar of wickedness and a smile impossibly wide was drawn in her face with a brush of malice.
"One more." -She told to the wood and iron abomination.- "Only one more ritual and you will have all the blood you covet."
With this words and after covering the traces of her former ritual, the woman returned to the darkness. Once more she turned into the black beast, the stealthy predator stalking in the shadows.
There, she waits, patient. Until the next ritual take place. Observing quietly and sharping her fangs and claws.
"One more." -She told to the wood and iron abomination.- "Only one more ritual and you will have all the blood you covet."
With this words and after covering the traces of her former ritual, the woman returned to the darkness. Once more she turned into the black beast, the stealthy predator stalking in the shadows.
There, she waits, patient. Until the next ritual take place. Observing quietly and sharping her fangs and claws.
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*Selebius
- Posts: 1073
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
Hours pass, or is it days? It is hard to say on this place, changes are subtle and random, the only thing that lets her feel the passing of time is her own growing hunger.
Then they are back- the Night hag, the cultists, some trembling with excitement, almost like addicts in need of their next shot. Sacrifices are brought forward as well, some part of a Taker caravan it seems but there is also a yugoloth who brinds several Larvae into the room, to be offered and devoured as well.
The pillar, dormant up to now, starts to grow, starts to unfold, the sensation of loss and evil growing again as the hag starts with the ritual once more.
Then they are back- the Night hag, the cultists, some trembling with excitement, almost like addicts in need of their next shot. Sacrifices are brought forward as well, some part of a Taker caravan it seems but there is also a yugoloth who brinds several Larvae into the room, to be offered and devoured as well.
The pillar, dormant up to now, starts to grow, starts to unfold, the sensation of loss and evil growing again as the hag starts with the ritual once more.
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*HamsterHyde
- Posts: 29
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
In the dark, the green pools observed silent. The ritual continued uninterrupted and the climax was close. And when the sacrifices began to stain the soil with blood, she made her move.
It was time to see if the call to the dark powers of the ground have had effect, straighten her magic. Recalling the pact, her voice blend into the chant intoned by the prayers.
"Dark powers of the land, is time to recall my offering. I have done my sacrifice and now I ask for your favor. Power by power, blood to blood."
Her fangs pierced each of her fingertips and now her hands extended facing to the ground, seems ready to play a requiem. Little drops of blood fall to the ground, but as soon as her pray continue they turn into thin scarlet threads.
"The corpses of the dead belong to the ground. It brings doom to the souls and the last rest to bodies. But there is no rest for the damned, they belong to the endless night.
Childs of the witching hour, answer to the call of your Queen. I, with the crimson essence of the living, command you! Listen to me!"
Now, from the little red puddles in the ground thin lines crawls pursuing their targets silently, dividing themselves on the way in order to reach as many as possible. ¿How many will they reach? That depends on the capricious gods of debauchery.
It was time to see if the call to the dark powers of the ground have had effect, straighten her magic. Recalling the pact, her voice blend into the chant intoned by the prayers.
"Dark powers of the land, is time to recall my offering. I have done my sacrifice and now I ask for your favor. Power by power, blood to blood."
Her fangs pierced each of her fingertips and now her hands extended facing to the ground, seems ready to play a requiem. Little drops of blood fall to the ground, but as soon as her pray continue they turn into thin scarlet threads.
"The corpses of the dead belong to the ground. It brings doom to the souls and the last rest to bodies. But there is no rest for the damned, they belong to the endless night.
Childs of the witching hour, answer to the call of your Queen. I, with the crimson essence of the living, command you! Listen to me!"
Now, from the little red puddles in the ground thin lines crawls pursuing their targets silently, dividing themselves on the way in order to reach as many as possible. ¿How many will they reach? That depends on the capricious gods of debauchery.