Asking A Boon

Alexina

Typically, I do not post roleplaying logs on the forums. I am never really satisfied with the flow of my emotes, although I have really been striving to convey more of Alexina's personality when interacting with people lately. I would not have posted this log either, but it really became such a highlight of my time here in Aetolia. Chakrasul plopped out of nowhere and generously gave me some of her time, and I am really grateful for that. Today was really one of the most enjoyable days playing Aetolia ever.

As for the log itself, it started with me sending a message to Chakrasul some time ago, asking for a moment of Her time. Ever since Alexina learned about Lahkencai, she has been trying to find a way to repeat what he did; robbing a Chaos Lord of their essence and claim their power for herself. It is a lofty goal which I am not realisticly expecting to see fulfilled (although I would -really- love a demon-type endgame race), but it has definitely proven interesting to pursue in game so far. Anyway, Chakrasul was one of the few remaining people to ask for help.

I'll be making a reply to this post with the log itself. I just don't like how text is semi-bolded in the initial post of new threads.

Alexina

DISCLAIMER:
I made Alexina's outfit some time ago because I had an urge to design some wenchgear. I would have worn something more appropriate - maybe some robust fullplate armour or such - had I known I was going to end up roleplaying with Chakrasul.

I used the '<' command for some of Alexina's thoughts. I will be colouring these in purple (unless this is completely unreadable against the gray background). The rest will be coloured as I saw it in game.

Chakrasul:
She is an Immortal, towering and magnificent. Her slender, angular form is complemented by alabaster white skin as hard and cold as granite. Cruel emaciation plagues Her and is clearly visualized through the features of Her face. Angular and sharp, it is defined by high and crooked cheekbones, an elegant, narrow nose, thin, brown-tinted lips and an indifferent pair of wide, tilted eyes aglow with the shimmer of a sparkling emerald. Her icy, untouchable visage is completed by a long wave of curly midnight-hued hair that tangles around Her neck.

        (fastened in a coil upon Her waist) : a wicked, obsidian-spiked whip
             (resting snugly upon Her brow) : the Circlet of Corruption
          (draped gracefully over Her body) : a dress of stark white
  (embedded beneath the hollow of Her neck) : a flesh-embedded amulet of jade

Alexina:
She is a typical Azudim vampire woman, tall and slender with spindly limbs and delicately chiseled features. Her fair skin appears almost eerily pallid, her silken smooth complexion as white as milk. Pale, blonde hair falls freely in soft waves and ends a bit below the gentle curve of her waist, brushing against the back of her toned thighs. Imprinted upon her forehead is a small, venantium thirteen-pointed star, appearing to have been smoothly fused with her skin. Almond-shaped eyes shimmers with a soft amber glow, resembling the reflection of a full moon resting in a midnight pond - a splash of colour contrasting against her elegant, ivory countenance. Similarly, a pair of supple crimson lips rests beneath her narrow nose, their intensely red hue reminiscent of rose petals in a crisp winter morning. Her body is lean and in fit condition, possessing an inherent predatory grace, her form athletic yet feminine and brimming with pride. Streaks of crimson blood spatter her face. She walks with the blessing of Chakrasul. She walks with the blessing of Iosyne.

         (patiently awaiting its next meal) : a carnivorous black and red flower
            (adorning the back of her neck) : a black-inked tattoo of a pair of crossed fists
               (embedded into her forehead) : a thirteen-pointed, venantium star
    (sitting imposingly atop her shoulders) : dark steel pauldrons adorned with silver filigree
     (emerging beneath her shoulder-blades) : a pair of ebony-black raven wings
    (refracting light in vibrant pink hues) : an entwined heart-shaped pendant of faceted alexiate
                    (covering her left arm) : an intricate sleeve of tribal tattoos
     (displaying ample amounts of cleavage) : a silver-embroidered corset of black silk
 (soft, sumptuous, and absolutely decadent) : a sybaritic, ebon-hued silken thong
       (clinging to the curves of her legs) : glossy, thigh-high black leather boots
              (glowing with Ankyrean power) : silver-runed black leather bracers


The story begins with Alexina hunting in the Tiyen Esityi:

A low, sultry voice resounds within the depths of your mind, "Ve'kahi."

You have emoted: Alexina turns around, searching for the source of the voice. "Ah. Yes?"

A low, sultry voice resounds within the depths of your mind, "What is it you seek that you sought Me, mortal?"

You have emoted: "I seek your boon, Lady Corruption," Alexina replies, her amber gaze cautiously scanning her surroundings, "A favour."

A sharp, abrupt stab of agony shoots down your arm as the presence settles fully within the depths of your mind, sending its sinuous tendrils through each corridor of memories. "Ah," comes Her voice, cool, calculative now, "A favour."

Biting down on her lower lip, you say, "One of Your children, one of the Nazedha, achieved what no other mortal could hope to achieve. Ah. Lahkencai." She pauses, weighing her words carefully before continuing, "He claimed power from the Chaos Plane. How? Why? He will not share."

Lahkencai, the Withered Lord
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General:
He was born on the 1st of Chakros, year 62 of the Midnight Age.
He is a Slavemaster in the Nazedha Empire.
He is a Missionary of Corruption in the Sages.
He is a Sailor of the Western Seas in the Fellowship of Explorers.
He is an Elder of the Urmoc tribe.
He is a mentor and able to take on proteges.
He is an enemy of your continent.

Fame:
He received the Dark Revelation from Hansekkaramnis, the Chaos Lord.
He built the Dark Spire.
He founded the Sages.
He has served as a guildmaster.
He has led a tribe of the Nazedha.
He has conquered a tribe of the Nazedha.
He has served with aplomb as the Cardinal of a Divinity.
He has been elected to the ruling council of a city.
He has served as hand to Lanu Du.
He slew Hansekkaramnis, the Chaos Lord, and took his essence.
He has ascended to become a Chaos Lord.
He has ruled over the Chaos Plane.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You have emoted: Alexina rubs her arm gently.

A cruel laughter resonates within the space of your mind, and agony courses through your frame once more, an exquisite melding of pain touching aspects of both the body and the mind.

A low, sultry voice resounds within the depths of your mind, "And why should I share what he desires not to, mortal?"

You have emoted: Alexina clutches her head, her lips pulling back in a feral snarl as pain wrecks her slender body.

You have emoted: There is a drawn-out moment of silence, followed by bargaining. "I do not seek to contend with him," Alexina begins, beginning to pace back and forth, "Merely to speak, to learn. From him. From You. He found power there, locked away in the Chaos Plane. Ah, I beg of you, Lady Corruption. I will honour you. I will place offerings upon your shrines. Name your price."

Do not anger Her. You must appease Her, give something -She- desires. But what? What could it be?

Coldness trickles down your spine as the heavy presence within your mind closes its metaphysical dominion over your soul. You feel a disquieting wrench and a shift in the air around you.

You are transported by the power of the Divine.
Before the Iron Bell.
Cold northern winds blast freely through this open platform atop the single tower of the Church of Malice. The grim silhouettes of mountains rise threateningly in the north and west, while from the south the horrific smell of a putrid bog reaches the tower's heights with the cold breezes. The crude stone platform is pitted and worn by the passage of many centuries. A raised platform has been built at the center of the tower, its massive structure built to support a gigantic bell. A massive bell of blackened iron hangs here from a thick chain. A seething miasma of jade clings to the towering form of Chakrasul, Goddess of Corruption here.
You see a single exit leading down.

You have emoted: Should she fall to her knees? Demonstrate humility and meekness? Alexina hesitates, then simply nods politely at the Goddess, her body dipping down in a graceful curtsey. "Greetings, Lady."

The slender form of Chakrasul stands here atop the tower of the Church in Tiyen Indoron. Her face is turned away from you to face the silhouettes of the mountains to the north. Where She stands, those entering the tower by the stairwell will not notice Her immediately.

The edges of Chakrasul's lips twitch briefly as She turns, the movement smooth and fluid - a stark contrast to Her angular body that emphasizes the emaciation of the Dark Lady. Her pair of emerald eyes settle upon your indecent form, appraising you in the ensuing silence.

You have emoted: The heels of Alexina's boots clicks softly as she approaches Chakrasul, each step slow, almost reluctant. Her eyes search the platform, looking for danger, before finally settling upon Chakrasul's face; she meets the Goddess's emerald eyes, holding them for but a moment before casting her gaze downwards. "Lady Corruption," she mumbles a bit awkwardly.

"Lahkencai," says Chakrasul, the name coming from Her lips said in a tone that suggests an emotion almost akin to that shared between lovers. "He made himself well-known to Sapience then, I see." The hips of the Dark Lady move in a slow roll as She steps around you. She tilts Her head downwards slightly, the small movement causing the movement of a flesh-embedded amulet of jade to shift.

You have emoted: Alexina reaches up to rub the back of her neck, fingertips brushing lightly across a black-inked tattoo of a pair of crossed fists. The gesture seems familiar to her, bolstering her confidence in some small manner -- she lifts her gaze again, head turning slightly to glance over at Chakrasul. "Lahkencai. The Withered Lord. For someone who is well-known, very little is actually known. I would embark upon a path similar to his own, were it possible at all. I sought him out in the distant corners of the Chaos Plane and was met with nothing but disdainful silence. I sought the aid of the Goddess whom I serve, but She was unwilling or unable to assist. So... I turn to You. My last hope."

You have none other to turn to; the Indorani knows to bargain with demons but nothing of seizing their powers for their own; the Malevolent merged with forces of Shadow and not Chaos; the Nazedha nurtures deep-rooted enmity with all of Sapience. Who else, but the Goddess of Corruption?

Chakrasul's features seem to split apart as Her lips curve upwards swiftly in a smile that betrays Her vicious, cruel nature. A throaty laugh ensues as She finishes Her circling tour around you, stopping in front of your head. She weaves the fingers of Her left hand into your pale, blonde hair and makes a fist, using it as leverage to tilt your head upwards so that your glance turns into a full-on gaze.

Coldly, Chakrasul, Goddess of Corruption says, "Lahkencai served the Spiral well. So well that he acted upon his desires and seized what he had always craved."

You have emoted: Struggling against Chakrasul's grip, Alexina hisses indignantly, "Let me go!" Anger, surprise, and outrage simmers in her eyes, and underneath it all a suppressed streak of fear. "I am not Your plaything. Ah. I came looking for Your help, for advice that would not be offered elsewhere. If You are able to assist me, name Your price. If not, then at least tell me where I could find my answers. Either way, let me go."

Seize what you had always craved. Power. Endless power. Never again exposed, vulnerable. Even the Gods would not dare harm you!

Chakrasul leans forward, placing Herself dangerously close to you so much so the front of Her stark white dress brushes against your upraised chin. Soft chinks of obsidian clashing against cold metal raises your awareness to the whip at Her side, still coiled and unused as She keeps Her grasping fist amongst your hair firm. "I do have the answers, mortal," comes Chakrasul's low, sultry voice, "But you left the offer of a price rather open-ended."

Dangerously, Chakrasul, Goddess of Corruption says, "Who's to say this isn't part of a price I will demand?"

You have emoted: Alexina's nostrils flares as she inhales deeply through her nose, her chest expanding slightly as air fills her cold, dead lungs, then exhales a wheezing sigh. She reins in her emotions, pushes them down deep inside, and puts a lid on them. "Flay my skin if You wish. I would offer my dead, broken husk upon Your altar a thousand times, if that is Your price. Ten thousand times." She grins defiantly, wolfishly at the Goddess, baring her fangs at Chakrasul, "It would be worth it, I think. For a chance to understand how the Nazedha tapped into the Chaos Plane, how one of Yours usurped the Lords' power for his own. Yes. Name Your price. It will be paid in full."

Something throbs painfully in your torso, mimicking the heartbeat of a fresh living heart. A searing sensation travels through the muscles in your torso, spreading immense heat down to your extremities, bring forth the flush of blood to the surface of your skin. It is only then you realize that it is the sickeningly strong sensation of -utter- desire.

Chakrasul's inexorable grasp of your hair in Her fist slowly pulls your head downwards, increasing the intensely uncomfortable position of your neck in extension. The gap between the back of your head and your back itself slowly decreases and it seems as though the smooth flesh that holds your head upon your body is splitting apart at the shoulders.

You have emoted: This was not what Alexina had expected at all; she jerks, once more struggling to free herself from Chakrasul's grip. "What are You doing? What did You do to me?" There is panic in her voice, an expression of utter desperation claiming her features. "What have You -done-!?" She pants, gasps - a faint blush starting to sread across her cheeks - and then, as Chakrasul pulls her head down towards her back, she screams.

Cruelly, Chakrasul, Goddess of Corruption says, "You see, Lahkencai was a very ambitious Nazetu, mortal - very much like you. He was fervent in his worship of Corruption and Chaos. You could see the passion in his eyes when he stood to preach and spread the teachings of the Nazedha Empire: My teachings."

You have emoted: Alexina sobs and whimpers pitifully; the agonizing sensation of her shoulders rending apart is far, far more painful than she could ever have imagined.

Your struggles against Chakrasul's cast-iron grip is futile. Instead of hindering the Dark Lady's action, it instead hastens it towards its grotesque end. The skin that joins your neck to your shoulders has split apart fully and reveals bloody tendons and arteries beneath. Chakrasul pauses at this juncture, Her facial expression twisted into something that appears to be that of sadistic satisfaction.

Her impassive tone of voice at odds with Her facial expression, Chakrasul, Goddess of Corruption says, "Now, know this, mortal. Lahkencai was no mere Nazetu. He was raised with the power of the Chaos Plane, by one of the Chaos Lords."

The name slipping out from between Her lips in a loving caress, Chakrasul, Goddess of Corruption says, "Hansekkaramnis."

You have emoted: Like a broken piece of machinery, Alexina's vampiric form tries to rebuild itself on its own accord; tendons mend, flesh and muscles knit together, and severed veins begins to heal anew. Unfortunately, the trauma is too severe, the gift of Blood not nearly potent enough to restore the injuries bestowed by Chakrasul. "Please, o-please-please-please," she pleads, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Such excruciating pain! Such sublime agony! You have never felt anything like this!

Chakrasul cocks Her head to the side sharply as She lowers Her right ear down to your lips, as though to better hear the words that pour forth from your mouth. The blood beneath your skin seems to answer to Her nearness, flowing a little quicker. This, in turn, further disrupts the superior powers of the gift of Blood. Chakrasul's fist about your hair begins to move again and a wave of blackness begins to lap at the fringes of your vision.

Lazily, Chakrasul, Goddess of Corruption says, "But of course, the powers he possessed after being raised was pitiable as compared to the ones possessed by the true Chaos Lords. There is only one way to become one of -them-."

You have emoted: Alexina finally ceases her struggles, her body going limp in Chakrasul's grip. The wound at her shoulders gape open, unhealed, gruesome, and severe. Still, even as darkness envelops her senses, she hears the Goddess's words, clinging to them like a drowning man might cling to driftwood. Softly, she murmurs, "I am as pitiable to the Withered Lord as he is to the Lords. The Lords are as pitiable to You as I am to him. I am weak when I desire to be strong, Lady Corruption."

"You are strong, mortal," comes Chakrasul's response, "But not strong enough. The secret of Lahkencai's ascension is simple.." She draws Herself back, straightening Her spine as Her emerald eyes glint dangerously with ill-concealed enthusiasm.

You need to know! Why will She not tell you!?

You see Chakrasul open Her mouth, but the words that issue forth can only be caught in fragments and pieces. "... essence..  killed.. re-direction.." are all the words in the sentence that you can make out before intense agony distracts you from your fervent thoughts.

With a ruthless jerk of Her hand entwined about your hair, Chakrasul rips the rest of your head off of your shoulders. A deluge of blood amidst the shower of gore and tendons stains the Dark Lady's face and white dress, and the sight of this hellish display is the image that burns into your mind as consciousness flees from you in the throes of death.
You have been slain by a black rose.
Experience Lost: 9750 [total: 22485465]

You utter a brief charm, focusing upon the link to your coffin.

You attempt to flee to your coffin.
You suddenly sink straight down into the ground beneath you. A sensation of tremendous movement overtakes you, and when you open your eyes you are safe inside your coffin, buried deep within the earth.
Asleep in a coffin.
Princess Sarita Bahir'an is here, sleeping. She wields a buckler in her left hand. Viceroy Menelaus Moridin is here, sleeping. He wields a buckler in his left hand.
There are no obvious exits.
Balance Used: 9.30 seconds
You are afflicted with asleep.

You once again occupy a physical body. You can RISE to leave the earth.

You begin to float gently upwards through the earth, which parts easily before you. Soon you have reached the surface, and the ground closes once again to conceal your secret refuge.
A neatly pruned bush blooming with immaculate, white roses.
Emanating a sweet, pleasant scent, a neatly pruned rosebush grows here, its branches adorned by pristine white roses. A romantic black iron seat stands here, waiting for a pair of lovers to occupy it.
You see a single exit leading out (hidden).

And then, in your drifting state, the words make sense: Lahkencai found out how to re-direct the essence of the Chaos Lord he killed.

You have emoted: Alexina gasps, her hands reaching back to to see that she is whole again. She falls to her knees, trembling, her eyes wide open and pupils swollen to large orbs within her golden irises. What was this madness?


:::THE END:::

I found it really difficult to portray a realistic response to being torn asunder by a sadistic Goddess. Still, I had -so- much fun roleplaying the scene. Thank you, @Chakrasul!

One of these smalls things not everyone might now:
The tattoo of a pair of crossed fists is actually Iosyne's mark for Her followers and touching it has a very real effect:

H:9838 M:7761 E:33900 W:29355 B:100% XP:31% [c eb]touch tattoo
You trace your finger over the tattoo at the nape of your neck. The sounds of weapons clashing and fists connecting resounds within your auditory senses, as if you were in the center of a great battlefield. Your heart rate speeds up, beating so loudly that it can be felt within your head.

EDIT:
I had to edit a typo that reared its ugly head in the log. Apparently, I sometimes misspell words in bad ways.

Angwe

Pfft, your reaction was better written and more believable than what I would have come up with.

Alexina

Thank you, Angwe! I tend to think that there are only two feelings that are technically proper when dealing with actual Gods in roleplaying settings: awe before their majesty and dread at their terrifying power. While proper, it makes for realling boring roleplay. So! Better and more interesting to act like you're actually not just a bug that could be squished beneath their palm if they so choose (I bet it'd be really boring for God characters if everyone they met ended up prostating themselves before them and singing their praise). It's a very interesting dynamic for sure - needing something from a God but not really being able to offer anything they want in turn - and a bit tricky for me to roleplay.

I sort of feel like I need to emphasize how much I appreciated the entire encounter: it was completely unexpected and very fun. These sort of things make Aetolia great!

Moirean

Very cool log. That's a really interesting thing Alexina is pursuing and I'd love to read more to see how things go with that arc. It's a really intriguing one. Your emotes are awesome and well-written, and I'd love to read more logs by you, period!