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The Purging
After Moirean took over the Carnifex, Aldric sought her out to see about rejoining. Seeing as he'd already been one of the Tainted in the guild before and had done all the requirements, something else was created. A new ritual for those that had been part of the guild and deserted it, a way for them to properly earn the title back.
-------------------
From somewhere high above, the deep, rumbling call of a warhorn reverberates across the mountains.
(Carnifex): Medeya, the gatewarden says, "Carnifex, the warhorn has been blown! You are needed at the Keep!"
Courtyard of the Shadow Keep.
A set of maple stocks stand here. A sigil in the shape of a small, rectangular monolith is on the
ground. A heavy case of sleek obsidian has been set here. Eyes abysmal pits of darkness, a leathery-
winged nightmare paws the ground idly. A large mastiff is here, growling softly. A mire hound is
sniffing at the remains of some small animal. Commander Moirean Seirath is here. She is riding on a
donkey. She wields a chipped bone dagger in her left hand. The monstrous form of Toz is here, his
stony body towering over you. He wields a menacing flail in his left hand and a tower shield in his
right. A murky darkness has settled in here.
You see exits leading north, east, southeast, south (open pine door), southwest, and west.
A cloaked figure releases himself from his tensed posture, lowering his shoulders to a more relaxed
position.
Centering your wild mind, civility floods your thoughts. Gasping in pain, your form contorts and
You have emoted: With surprising grace, Aldric shifts from his lycan form directly into an attentive
stance, the mask that obscures the majority of his face set curiously in Moirean's direction.
(Initiates): Moirean says, "We are all reporting to the Keep. If you are not here, get here."
Mastema gazes about the yard, his weathered face soaked in sweat and blood.
Yettave slowly fades into view, returning to the realm of perception.
Mastema grunts noncommittally.
Commander Moirean Seirath says, "Come before the master stone."
Moirean leaves to the north.
A shadowy training yard.
Almost perpetually cast in the shadow of the Keep's watchtower, this training yard is a gloomy space.
Broad and rectangular, it is little more than a packed earth field, covered in a meticulously-raked
layer of sawdust to soak up any blood which may be spilled. A large gnarled tree, long dead and
preserved from the dry cold of the mountains, oversees the sparring like an ancient knight recalling
his glory days. As the Carnifex would treat such a knight, the guild appears to only tolerate its
continued presence due to some modicum of use: punching bags and target circles hang from its
skeletal branches, while padded leather has been wrapped around the trunk to create a crude sort of
sparring pell for the trainees to hack at. Steel mountings for weapons, torches, and armour ring the
yard with a row of wooden benches set against the north, east and west walls, offering a promise of
respite to the Initiates at training. The occasional clang from the forge to the west sometimes
rises above the clash of combat here, while the air is heavy with the pungent smells of blood, sweat,
and dirt. Casting a perpetually chilly blue glow over the entire area, an immense, faceted stone
hangs suspended in the air to the north of the yard. A long, shallow basin sits below it, its basalt
contours stained a deep shade of rusty brown. The pathway to the recruits' barracks winds past the
gem, giving new members of the Carnifex a constant, grim reminder of the Keep's mastery of captured
souls.
A sigil in the shape of a small, rectangular monolith is on the ground. There are 5 tall, gaunt
Nazetu knights here. An iron chest is here, its engravings depicting the basics of Carnifex skills.
Suspended midair, an immense, multi-faceted soulstone is here, pulsating blue motes skittering
beneath its surface. Protected from head to toe by tattered armor, Wraithlord Gruxmal looms here.
There are 5 swarthy Goblin knights here. A simple bench is here, long enough for three people. A
stout donkey stands patiently by, waiting for a burden. Commander Moirean Seirath is here. She
wields a chipped bone dagger in her left hand. A murky darkness has settled in here.
You see exits leading north, east, south, and west (open pine door).
Toz strides in from the south, his colossal form sending tremors through the ground.
(Carnifex): Tsvanni says, "Yes Commander."
Wraithlord Gruxmal gives an icy hiss.
Inrue arrives from the south.
Inrue gives Moirean a respectful salute.
Xenia arrives from the south.
Xenia gives the world a smart salute.
Fixing herself in a disciplined position, Xenia stands sharply at attention.
Tsvanni arrives from the south.
She is followed by a vicious warhound.
Tsvanni gives the world a smart salute.
Barda lifts his fingers to his mouth and blows a high-pitched whistle.
A powerful mastiff bounds in, heeling by his side.
Moirean nods firmly and turns her attention directly to you. Her voice raises to be carried across
the yard and she declares, "We have with us a Tainted, returned to the guild." She raises her arm,
levelling a finger at you. "Aldric, the warward knight."
Tsvanni quietly clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth.
Tsvanni smiles at you.
You have emoted: Aldric blinks once in what appears to be somewhat of a gesture of surprise, his
hands balling into fists at his sides as he remains silent.
Tsvanni tells you, in Albedi, "Welcome back to the keep."
You tell Postulant Tsvanni, the Emeraldine, "Thanks. I got a feelin' this ain't a good welcome
though."
Moirean's voice drips with scorn and she declares, "Look on him, and feel pity, feel remorse, feel
scorn. Look on him and see a fallen knight." Her mouth curves into a smile and she gestures to Toz,
Mastema and Yettave. "A once-Tainted who now needs....Purging."
Sternly, Commander Moirean Seirath says, "Knights, restrain him. Make him kneel. Make him..." She
lowly, in disgust, pronounces the word: "BOW."
Xenia raises an eyebrow questioningly.
You have emoted: "Wait, wha-" Aldric begins to dissent, eyes widening as he takes a precautionary
step backwards, hands raising almost defensively.
Inrue blinks.
Tsvanni cracks her knuckles and glides forward.
Mastema gazes sideways at you, his amber eyes fixed for a moment before a low growl reverberates
throughout the hall.
Mradu General, Elder Mastema Bouchard, The Crimson Dragon says, "Kneel or feel my blade."
Yettave closes his eyes; as they open again, a dark flash crosses them, and a foul, contaminated
aura wreathes his arms.
Toz allows his flail to swing freely at his side, the three fist-sized chunks of metal clacking as
they bounce lightly against his earthen form. Glancing to Yettave and Mastema, he nods towards you,
"I will allow you two the honor of first strikes, in honor of your seniority. Mine will follow soon
after."
Grave paranoia suddenly strikes you out of nowhere, the shadows in the area darkening and growing
outward and upward to resemble humanoid forms. They reach outward for you, twitchy and renegade
things threatening to siphon something from you.
Yettave kicks Aldric in the back of the kneecaps.
Mastema moves forward his halberd raised in a gesture of utter malice as he brings it down upon you.
Toz's earthen form steps forward as the other two swing, slamming his flail into your gut with a
flick of his wrist, expression fairly blank.
Inrue flinches along with the blows, white-faced.
Moirean watches dispassionately as the knights go about forcing you to your knees. Behind her, as if
sensing the scuffle, the master soulstone begins to glow with a murky bluish light, icy tendrils
beginning to unfurl from its roiling depths.
Tsvanni blinks, licking her fang, as she draws her fist back, wrapping a chain of metal beads around
her hand.
Tsvanni slams her fist into your gut, wrenching it.
Sternly, Commander Moirean Seirath says to Postulant Tsvanni, the Emeraldine, "Hold off. This is a
matter for the Tainted."
Tsvanni nods her head at Moirean.
Tsvanni lowers her hands and slips back.
Tsvanni grabs Inrue and whispers something.
You have emoted: Aldric's hands reach up to grasp at the mask, his fingernails digging into its
wooden form as he releases a yell that coincides with Yettave's kick, his bulky form dropping
unexpectedly to the ground. Caught off guard, he does his best to jerk his torso away from Mastema's
blade, eyes frenzied as he gazes upon those around him. "What'n the PIT are you doin-" he's cut off
as the flail makes contact with his gut, causing him to double-over, his hands placed upon the
ground for support. The Azudim makes a throaty noise before spitting a coagulated glob of blood by
Moirean's boots, though the action doesn't seem intended.
Inrue swallows hard and stares wide-eyed up at Tsvanni, frozen in silence.
Barda plants the butt end of his bardiche into the ground, watching intently at the happenings.
His immense tail swaying with anticipation, Mastema begins to breath heavily his expression one of
hatred and contempt.
You feel your eyes itch and your vision cloud with a red tint, which gradually intensifies on the
peripherals of your perception. Eventually, it is as if your eyeballs are being squeezed in
someone's merciless grip, so constricted is the feeling. The red fog is now a bright crimson haze,
obscuring everything else and leaving you with an infuriating, eager thirst for bloodshed.
Tsvanni murmurs something softly to Inrue.
Mastema stares implacably at Tsvanni.
Toz seems fairly unbothered as you cough up a bit of blood, retracting his flail to settle on his
shoulder as he looks towards Moirean for further instruction.
Inrue gives a frantic nod of her head, her eyelids peeled wide and unblinking at the scene before
her.
Moirean coldly replies, "Purging you." There is an eerie calm to her voice, and she seems utterly
devoid of emotions. The light from the master stone behind her increases, washing over her and
casting her features into an even icier, harsher set, and she merely stares down at you, prostrate
before her. She comments, "He is bowing," and lets out a cruel laugh.
You have emoted: The mask upon Aldric's face conceals any visible signs of a sneer, but its presence
could be implied by the exhalation of breath he makes alone as he pushes his torso upwards, but does
not rise from his kneeling position.
Softly, very softly, Moirean says, "Carnifex do not bow. Tainted do not bow." She takes a step
forwards, her hand lightly running across your shoulders up to skim your cheek. "But-" she
continues, and now her fingers have wrapped around your jaw to jerk your head roughly upwards,
forcing you to stare into her eyes. "But this man is no longer a Tainted knight."
You have emoted: Aldric's breathing is intense, his chest rising and falling as his eyes are locked
with Moirean's. The gray pupils display what his face cannot: utter contempt tinged with anger.
Incredible hot, burning pain is felt against your skin as the mask renews its grip on your face.
Trails of black smoke waft out lazily from the eye-holes of your mask, carrying with it the distinct
scent of burning.
The light flares, enveloping you and Moirean in a misty wave of steely cold. Both the Commander and
the wayward knight are lost in a murky maelstrom of swirling essence as a steady stream of souls
begin to pour forth from the master soulstone, twisting around them as unholy, distant wails begin
to resonate through the courtyard.
As the souls surround you, a deep, sharp pain begins to bloom in your chest, blossoming outwards
from your very core.
Aching, longing, sapping - pain, but a silent, unfathomable type, removed from the physical. It
feels like your very soul is being sliced to shreds.
You have emoted: Aldric ducks his head as the discordant wails begin to surround him, his hands
raising to cover his ears. His eyes widen, hands shifting abruptly from his ears to his chest as if
grasping for something. A wearied groan escapes his lips that's muffled by the mask.
Above the murky torrent of essence, you can hear Moirean's voice, laden with a deep hiss and shrill
scream as the captured souls bolster her words: "His link to the master stone will be severed. His
touch to the Tainted will be broken. His soul is weak." The bombardment intensifies.
Over the wailing, Commander Moirean Seirath says, "He must be purged!"
Inrue loses her control over her fragile composure and lifts her hands to cover her eyes with a
strangled squeak.
Tsvanni roughly grabs at Inrue's clothing, staring the girl down.
The pain abruptly ceases and for a moment, you feel relief, until a new sensation overcomes you:
gaping, bleak emptiness.
Tsvanni raises a finger up to her lips for a moment, and releases her grip.
You have emoted: Aldric's hands drop bleakly to his sides, his knuckles grazing the grass of the
courtyard. As if the barrage of souls wasn't enough to overwhelm the senses, the gut-wrenching smell
of burning flesh begins to fill the courtyard as tendrils of smoke rise lazily from the corners of
the mask he wears, a faint sizzling accompanying the wisps. Despite this, he doesn't move, but
instead stares almost emptily skywards.
Toz doesn't glance back towards Inrue, though his head cants to one side, as if listening intently
for something. His eyes narrow, peering through the fog of essence and souls towards Moirean and you,
his lips twisted into something halfway between a sneer and a smirk, his flail once more dropping
to dangle at his side, the spiked balls swaying menacingly.
At Moirean's final cry, the swirling souls coalesce into a thick, single beam, extending from the
master soulstone towards you. As solid as ice, the translucent arc of souls stabs towards your chest,
driving themselves into him - and a deafening, shivering shatter splits the air as the light flares
violently, blinding you for a long moment. When you regain your vision, all is silent, all is still...and then you hear the soft, almost forlorn tinkle of rock against cobblestones.
Shards of what was once Aldric's soulstone rain down to the courtyard's cobbles in a shower of
broken rock.
Mastema diverts his eyes momentarily as the light intensifies, only to return them once more. His
large serpent-like eyes widening at the sight and his crimson draconic snout inhaling the burnt
smells with a sense of pure delight.
You feel your eyes itch and your vision cloud with a red tint, which gradually intensifies on the
peripherals of your perception. Eventually, it is as if your eyeballs are being squeezed in
someone's merciless grip, so constricted is the feeling. The red fog is now a bright crimson haze,
obscuring everything else and leaving you with an infuriating, eager thirst for bloodshed.
You have emoted: Aldric's eyes narrow as he attempts to take in the scene around him immediately
proceeding the blinding light. Shaking hands lift upwards almost longingly as he reaches towards the
shattered stone - but not once does he actually touch a single piece.
His voice hollow, almost empty, you say, "I.. but.. m-."
The light from the master stone recedes with a sharp hiss, akin to an intake of breath - the final
twist of essence writhes away from you in a low, soft whisper, and then it is only you and Moirean,
standing within the circle of Carnifex.
Coldly, simply, Commander Moirean Seirath says, "You do not deserve a link to the stone, Dishonoured."
You will now be known as Dishonoured Aldric, by order of Commander Moirean Seirath.
Feelings, sensations that you thought were dead. No squealin' remember, that it's all in your head.
4
Comments
Made me lol. Might steal this one.