Looking for more active discussion? Join our Discord at https://discord.gg/x2s7fY6

The Final Trial

edited May 2013 in Roleplay Logs
Alrighty, so Aldric rejoined the Carnifex a little while back after having previously been one of the Tainted knights. Rather than allowing him to simply breeze through the same requirements he'd already done, Moirean came up with a new, more intense method by which returning members that were previously tainted will regain their title called the Purging.

GHELP PURGING (for reference)
 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Composed by: Moirean
Composed on: 2013/04/10 00:44 GMT



                    P U R G I N G
                   =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Abandoning our ranks will not endear you to the Carnifex Knights. The
guild will hunt you down and pike your head outside the Shadow Keep - if
we are feeling benevolent. If you truly earn our ire, far, far worse
will come.

However - rarely - we will elect to give a wayward knight a chance to
return to the fold. This generous decision on our part is a rather large
kindness, and it will be the last one you see until you have regained
the right to be Tainted, for upon returning, the turncoat Knight must
be...purged.

The Test of Fealty
------------------
Your link to the master soulstone will be severed, your own stone
shattered. You do not deserve a connection to the other Tainted and to
the stone's strength. Instead, you will be given your new tool - a dull,
broken shard of rock - and your new title: Dishonoured. You will be
lower than the low, and even the recruits are ranked higher than you.

The Test of Strength
--------------------
Our strength lies in our arms, both literally and figuratively, and you
have proven yourself lacking. Your blade will be broken, and your arms
bound in spirit chains for three Aetolian months. Your feet will be
fettered and you must trudge, helpless, through the land, bereft of
strength. Even entering the Keep will acquire assistance, but this is
what you have reaped by sowing a fickle path.

The Test of Slaughter
---------------------
A Carnifex revels in slaughter and does not shirk at death. To remind
you of what you left behind, the first to fall before your blade will be
you, dishonored one. Should you survive the first two tests, and remain
constant to the Keep through your trials, you will have to die at your
own hand. Then, and only then, will you be returned your soulstone and
will the darkening of the Taint touch your soul again.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here is part one: the test of Fealty for background purposes.

Part two, unfortunately, I wasn't able to get the log of. Essentially it was exactly as listed in the GHELP up there.

Here is the third, and final part of the Purging.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(Carnifex): You say, "You folks doin' alright?"

Courtyard of the Shadow Keep.
-- v36873 ---
      |
 [ ]-[ ]-[s]
      |
- - -[+]- - -
    / | \
 [ ] [ ] [ ]

--- 0:9:2 ---
Long and rectangular, this stone courtyard is lined with pointed archways which support a column of upper galleries and walkways, level upon level, opening a channel to the sky. Torches line each of these archways, secured in severe steel mountings fashioned in the shape of gauntleted fists. In the center of the courtyard is a raised dais, wide enough for even the largest Azudim to comfortably stand and see over a gathered crowd. The center of the platform features a stone fountain, though the climate has turned it into little more than a statue, blacked by the elements and slick from ice. Depicting a circle of harsh-faced warriors looking out over the courtyard, the carving highlights the brutality of war, with the stony knights' cleated feet treading on heaped corpses of the fallen. Where water may have once run, the frigid cold of the mountains now only allows for ice - glistening rivulets cling to the gaunt faces of the conquered like frozen tears, while a sheen of frost as misty blue as stolen souls sheathes the warriors' weapons in an icy haze. A set of maple stocks stand here. A sigil in the shape of a small, rectangular monolith is on the ground.  A murky darkness has settled in here.
You see exits leading north, east, southeast, south (open pine door), southwest, and west.

 (Carnifex): Tsvanni says, "Mhm."

(Carnifex): Moirean says, "Oh yes, Dishonored. Quite excellent."

(Carnifex): You say, "..Too much enthusiasm, you just murder somebody or somethin'?"

(Carnifex): Moirean says, “No, but that’s an excellent idea.”

(Carnifex): Kiershu says, “Murder..where….when?”

(Carnifex): Moirean says, "The main Courtyard."

(Carnifex): You say, "Why do I get the feelin' this whole murder bit involves me?"

Toz enters from the north. 
They are followed by Moirean, a bloodleech, a chaos hound, a humbug, a minion of chaos, a soulmaster, and an ethereal firelord.

(Carnifex): Moirean says, "Someone's a clever boy."

Kiershu gives the world a smart salute.

You have emoted: Aldric stands in a rather upright position, his back straightened in what seems to be quite the display of proper posture despite the more ominous undertones of the courtyard. At his side stands an enormous wraith that shifts and distorts with every motion it makes, its form vaguely resembling that of a troll bandit. Where the bandit's eyes would normally be, however, are instead two practically abysmal pits that swirl with endless depth.

Kiershu brings a lit shisha cigarette to her lips and takes a long drag.

look Aldric
He is a powerful Azudim vampire and is a hulking figure, the bulk of his muscled mass focused upon the upper half of his body in a way that lends the man a wide chest and bulky shoulders. Eyes a nearly piercing, lighter shade of gray are set above a slightly crooked nose that appears to have been broken a time or two. His skin is an ashen gray in hue that seems to compliment the ebon shade of the majority of his hair. Stretching from the front of his head, down the middle, and towards the back of his skull, a rectangular strip of his hair has been left to grow longer than the short hair around it to form a wide mohawk a crimson in color. Stretching from the shorter black hair atop his head, strips of jet-black hair stretch down upon each side of his face to collect upon his chin in such a way that creates the image of a more rugged jawline.

                (Draped over his shoulders) : a flowing black cloak
          (Inked upon the back of his neck) : a black-inked tattoo of a pair of crossed fists
           (Hanging loosely off of his hip) : a tribal, bone-adorned weaponbelt
                   (Worn snug at his waist) : a baggy pair of black pants
                       (covering the torso) : a loose-fitting ebon shirt
                         (worn on the feet) : a pair of steel-tipped combat boots

Moirean spares a glance at the wraith, one eyebrow raising in silent interest. She does not comment on its presence, however, and focuses instead on you himself. "The chains?" she asks in a harsh voice. "How are you enjoying them?" Her lips twist in a smile as she crosses her arms - yes, arms, for her maimed and missing hand is replaced, gloriously, by a steel gauntlet webbed with living soulstone - over her chest and stares at you.

The stars wink into existence, familiar constellations illuminating the night with tales of myth and legend.

Toz trails in after Moirean, steps clacking unusually hard against the stone. He studies you, wordless, though he returns Kiershu's salute distractedly.

You have emoted: "Enjoying ain't the word I'd use, personally," Aldric replies in a noncommittal tone, a vague shrug of his shoulders that elicits an ominous jingle of the mentioned chains that bind the Azudim's hands behind his back ccompanying the response. His attention is focused entirely on Moirean alone, an eyebrow raising as he seems to make silent note of her newest appendage.

You tell Commander Moirean Seirath, "We'll talk about that later, yeah?"

"But learning, perhaps?" Moirean asks.

Moirean tells you, "Yes.”

Kiershu utters a guttural phrase as she lifts her soulstone. An inky-blackness pours forth to quickly envelop her form, hiding it from sight.

You have emoted: Aldric's immediate response to Moirean's brief inquisition is not verbal, but instead a grunt, his lips twitching into the beginnings of a smirk.

A distinctly wry note evident amidst his tone, you say, "You don't know how much you really need those things 'till you lose access to them. Ain't that right, Commander?"

Barda arrives from the east.
He is followed by a powerful mastiff.

Barda gives the world a smart salute.

A ghastly hiss is ushered forth from a wraith's form in response to the Azudim's comment.

Deepest Stygian night steals over the land as the symbolic hourglass empties and turns, ready to begin a new day.
It is now the 20th of Haernos, year 389 of the Midnight Age.

look Toz
He is an undead herculean Azudim. Form comprised of wiry muscles, his build is tall and thin. His siena-hued skin is distinctly leathery in texture, covered in callouses and rough to the touch. His hair is raven black, worn short and slicked back. His right ear ends in a sharp point and the tip of his left has been blunted by a bite. His face is angular, thin lips concealing a row of dangerously sharp teeth, and his eyes are an icy blue. Digitigrade feet hold up his form, each ending in a three-taloned foot. From his back sprouts two leathery wings - each jointed to allow them to fold the patagium against his back when not in use, safely out of harm's way. Sinuously extending behind him is a thin tail, the tip shaped like an arrowhead.

                         (worn on a finger) : 5 thin black bands
                         (worn on the legs) : a pair of sturdy black cotton trousers
                         (worn on the back) : an ivory leather pack
                       (covering the torso) : a dashing white corsair's shirt
                         (around the waist) : a brown leather bandolier
                         (worn on a finger) : a flamewall ring
                         (worn on a finger) : a moonlit iceberg ring
                           (over the torso) : a tabard of the Shadow Keep
                        (covering the body) : a Carnifex's side-buttoning black wool longcoat
                          (around the neck) : a sulfurous amulet
                         (worn on the back) : an embroidered leather bag
                         (worn on a finger) : a bejeweled signet ring
                         (worn on a finger) : a ring engraved with the Seirath crest
                        (worn on the hands) : an iron ylem-binding gauntlet
                          (around the neck) : an entwined grisly necklace of fanged skulls
                         (covering one eye) : a clarion eyeglass
                        (covering the body) : a suit of scale mail
                             (worn on head) : a dented and beaten-up bucket

You tell Defiler Toz, the Hammer, "You look.. exhausted. You alright? Maybe it's the bucket."

look Moirean
She is a powerful Azudim and is a slender, tall woman. Her sun-bronzed skin gives her a healthy glow, with battle-toned muscles showing clear evidence of combat training, tempered by a curvaceous, rather alluring silhouette. Dark auburn hair tumbles around her shoulders in soft waves to frame high cheekbones and bright, luminous amber eyes. Crimson horns sprout from her forehead, a lithe spade-tipped tail twists behind her and a pair of wings extends out from her shoulder blades, bat- like in shape, but nearly as tall as she is. Her right arm is sheathed from the elbow downwards in an elaborate steel gauntlet, its surface covered with a spiderwebbed network of slender black lines. The delicate etchings twist across the metal, constantly pulsing with flares of murky, warped darkness. She walks with the blessing of Maghak. She walks with the blessing of Iosyne.

  (jangling on a thick chain from her belt) : a brass keyring
          (stretched tightly over her legs) : a pair of shadowy leather trousers
         (proudly displayed over her armor) : a tabard of the Shadow Keep
               (unbuttoned, over her armor) : a Carnifex's side-buttoning black wool longcoat
                       (skimming her torso) : a black, silken bodice
       (hanging on a chain around her neck) : an entwined starstone engagement ring wreathed in ro..
          (delicately pinned to her tabard) : a jagged ylemshard pin
       (set at a rakish cant atop her brow) : a pair of Impish horns
                         (worn on the feet) : a pair of boots
       (hanging on a chain around her neck) : a ring engraved with the Seirath crest
                        (worn on the hands) : a ylem-binding gauntlet of the Parxian Order

Ser Barda says, "Going to go see to some slaughter, and well, things of that nature."

Barda gives the world a smart salute.

Barda leaves to the east.
He is followed by a powerful mastiff.

Moirean mirrors the smirk and steps forward silently to smack you across the face - HARD, incredibly HARD - with her silvery steel arm. The inset network of flowing souls flares in a dark coruscation and add a cold, draining bite to the strike. She clenches and relaxes her hand, balling it into an experimental fist as she stares at you. A mark mars his face - a tangled knot of pale white tendrils creep across one cheek as evidence of the hit - and she studies it thoughtfully.

Toz tells you, "Worry about yourself, Dishonored. I am fine."

After a moment, Commander Moirean Seirath says, "...and then you recover it." She grins fiercely as she grips her metallic fingers into a fist. "...stronger than ever before."

(Carnifex): Moirean says, "The Dishonored faces his final trial, for any who wish to watch."

Toz stands by as Moirean strikes you with her gauntlet, watching the strike and studying the damage done to your face with a discernible trace of pride, straightening a bit further. Inexplicably, a dented and beaten-up bucket remains firmly atop his head, though he doesn't comment on it or acknowledge it in any way.

You have emoted: The chains the bind Aldric's wrists clearly allow him no opportunity to parry the attack to his face, his head snapping sideways with a rather sickly sounding crack accompanying the motion. For but a moment the Azudim's ash-hued skin pales just somewhat as his expression seems to sink, his countenance comparable to that of a mortal that's forgone just a few too many days of sleep. This odd display fades slowly, a sense of obvious bewilderment replacing the worn, wearied expression as the bulky man eyes Moirean with what seems to be a glance of unsubtle curiosity and awe.

Shaking his head, as if attempting it free himself of a daze, you say, "That.. yeah.. wha-."

Satomi arrives from the east.

You have emoted: Aldric's lips decidedly press shut, the sentence cut off.

Moirean's lips curl up into a sharp smile and she states, "Strength."

There is a long moment of quiescence after this - Moirean seems content to let you sit and wait as she quietly stares at you. Finally, she breaks the silence, her voice shattering the still, frozen air of the courtyard as she coldly states, "Unbind him."

Toz steps forward at Moirean's command, a hammer of forging raising up. As it swishes downward, he seems disoriented briefly, the strike missing - slamming painfully against your arm instead. With a curse, he stomps a foot onto the chains binding your feet, attempting to hold it and you still for a second try.

Riding her chariot of light, the great life-giver rises from her long sleep and shoots a timorous ray over the horizon.

Moirean regards Toz impassively, her steel hand tightening into a fist. "Unbind him," she repeats in the same tone.

You have emoted: "Fuuu-" Aldric begins, his eyes widening as the hammer comes into contact with his arm. "Ain't you the -hammer- of this place or somethin'?" the Azudim irritatedly hisses through clenched teeth. A slight jerk of his arm brings forth a stomach-lurching *POP* sound that seems to allow a brief display of relief to flood the man's face.

Moirean curtly, coldly tells you, "Silence."


image
Feelings, sensations that you thought were dead. No squealin' remember, that it's all in your head.
Moirean

Comments

  • Toz just growls out a response, the second strike landing cleanly on a stray bit of chain - the strike itself is far from impressive, but what occurs next at least provides results. Cracking outward from the point of impact, the chains binding you start to rust, seeming to age years in mere second. After a few seconds pass, Toz having straightened back and stepped away once more, the chains binding you are either rusted to dust or at least far too brittle to restrain anything.

    Moirean watches the chain's disintegration with approval, nodding slowly. Her gaze slowly drifts up to meet the eyes of you and she quietly asks, "How does that feel, then, Dishonoured?"

    You have emoted: Aldric doesn't hesitate in the slightest to bring his hands before himself with somewhat of a grimace as he makes note of a series of blisters and bleeding scrapes that line his wrists where the chains just moments ago were secured. "It's freedom in a sense," he more so exhales than says.

    Toz just slides his hammer away and says nothing, seeming more than content to linger near Moirean's side and simply observe.

    "In a sense," Moirean echoes in agreement. "Not truly free, though, not yet." She lifts her chin and inhales, exhales, before she continues. "You know why they are removed - we have only destroyed the shackles so you can use your hands against your most fierce, most dangerous, most deadly foe."

    Yourself.

    You have emoted: If fear is present within Aldric he does quite the job of disguising it. A rather somber nod seems to be, if anything, the only indication offered that's any evidence he'd actually heard Moirean's words.

    Moirean quietly states, "For a Carnifex to kill himself is...craven. Cowardly. Weak. One of the greatest dishonours we can do." Her eyes glitter as she stares at you for a long span, before she breaks the connection looking away to gaze down at the cobblestones. Softly, she finishes, "But that is what you must do."

    You have emoted: Aldric elects to remain silent, allowing only the harsh, bitter breeze of the mountain air to whistle through the courtyard. Slowly, almost dramatically so, his hand slides towards his weaponbelt to hover over a particularly-gleaming handle that his fingers almost hesitantly brush upon. The digits finally, decisively wrap around the the blade as he carefully withdraws the gleaming, rune-inlaid dagger. Now is when emotion shows itself finally upon the man's face as he seems to almost forlornly stare upon the blade's reflective surface.

    You begin to wield a jewel-encrusted sacrificial dagger in your left hand.

    Moirean turns her head back slightly to watch dispassionately as you grips the dagger. She gives a faint, nearly imperceptible nod.

    You run a jewel-encrusted sacrificial dagger across your wrist and blood spurts from the open wound.

    You have emoted: Aldric drags the dagger upon his arm, back and forth like a saw hewing a tree but stops suddenly as just enough flesh has been flayed to reveal the inner-workings and viscera of the limb inside. With a grimace, he withdraws a small, black vial from a pocket upon the side of his pack. Lifting the vial to his mouth, he roughly uncorks it with his teeth before pouring a rather viscous, gleaming toxin upon the blade. Lifting the dagger upwards, just over the wound, he allows a few drops of it to drip from the blade's tip into his arm, jaw setting.

    You begin feeling slightly flushed.

    Blood begins to slowly drip from your nose.

    You cough suddenly, expelling black fluid with bits of what looks to be tissue suspended in it.

    Your legs tremble slightly as a yellow jaundice begins to creep through your now-pale features.

    The dark void of terror fills your mind as, horribly, blood begins to seep out of every pore on your body.

    Your body begins to convulse, and as a scream that won't come claws frantically at your throat, your back snaps from the sheer force of the spasms, killing you instantly.
    You have slain yourself.

    Stricken, you collapse to the ground. Unable to maintain the composure of your physical form any longer, you feel your body shrivel and wither away as you revert to your mistform.

    You bring your arms up over your head and sink rapidly down into the earth. You begin to draw rapaciously upon the soil's regenerative energy, feeding your own needs.

    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.

    Courtyard of the Shadow Keep.
    -- v36873 ---
          |
     [ ]-[ ]-[s]
          |
    - - -[+]- - -
        / | \
     [ ] [ ] [ ]

    --- 0:9:2 ---
    A set of maple stocks stand here. A sigil in the shape of a small, rectangular monolith is on the ground. Torso pulsing up and down on eight slender legs, a giant spider is here. Appearing as a black mist with two scarlet eyes, a wraith glares at you with malignant glee. A chaos hound restlessly paces in a circle. A hand-sized tick quivers on the ground. A puffy black bloodleech scutters about in the dirt here. The shimmering form of a soulmaster floats in the air. An ethereal firelord hovers here, wreathed in elemental flames. Standing with arms crossed, a minion of chaos scrutinizes its surroundings. A stout donkey stands patiently by, waiting for a burden. Commander Moirean Seirath is here. She wields a buckler in her left hand. Defiler Toz, the Hammer is here. He wields a hammer of forging in his left hand. High Reaver Satomi Lunare, Amethyst is here. She wields a gruesome crescent scythe in her hands. Commander Moirean Seirath is here. A murky darkness has settled in here. You see exits leading north, east, southeast, south (open pine door), southwest, and west.

    Moirean beckons you to her.
    You begin to follow Moirean.

    [walking walking]

    Snow-covered mountain. (Tarea Mountains.)
    -- v18492 ---

                /
              /
            /
         [+]
            \
              \
                \
    -- -5:9:2 ---
    Filling the firmament is a lattice of heavy grey clouds. Scattered sparsely, a few pine trees grow tenaciously amongst the snow. A snowy owl is perched here, watching you with unblinking eyes.  Dominating the western plateau is a large, menacing fortress of black steel.
    You see exits leading northeast and southeast.

    Moirean gives the withered husk of Aldric to you.

    Moirean gives a length of rope to you.


    image
    Feelings, sensations that you thought were dead. No squealin' remember, that it's all in your head.
    Moirean
  • Moirean silently leads you to the plateau atop the mountaintop. "Display your weakness," she commands in a chilly voice. "Hang your shame for all the see."

    Snow-covered mountain. (Tarea Mountains.)
    -- v18492 ---

                /
              /
            /
         [+]
            \
              \
                \
    -- -5:9:2 ---
    Filling the firmament is a lattice of heavy grey clouds. White snow blankets the ground here, complementing a bed of frost. In a few places the snow is scattered from other travelers, revealing the stony surface of the mountain underneath it. No visible plantlife grows at this height save a few hearty valerian plants. Scattered sparsely, a few pine trees grow tenaciously amongst the snow. A snowy owl is perched here, watching you with unblinking eyes. A chaos hound restlessly paces in a circle. A hand-sized tick quivers on the ground. A puffy black bloodleech scutters about in the dirt here. The shimmering form of a soulmaster floats in the air. An ethereal firelord hovers here, wreathed in elemental flames. Standing with arms crossed, a minion of chaos scrutinizes its surroundings. Commander Moirean Seirath is here. She wields a buckler in her left hand. Defiler Toz, the Hammer is here. He wields a hammer of forging in his left hand. Commander Moirean Seirath is here. Dominating the western plateau is a large, menacing fortress of black steel.

    The stars wink into existence, familiar constellations illuminating the night with tales of myth and legend.

    You have emoted: Aldric takes the rope in hand and without hesitation fashions a rather sturdy noose at one of its ends. Unceremoniously he slips the noose over the head of the husk, then lobs the free end of the rope overhead towards one of the higher branches. His aim evidently accurate, the end of the rope comes tumbling back downwards from the other side of the branch. His motions are made with an odd familiarity that only comes with practice that's evident as he gives the rope a few strong tugs that whisk the husk skywards in but a few moments. Producing a piece of wood from his pack, he jams it into the ground to form a makeshift stake that he securely ties the end of the rope to.

    Moirean watches as the husk is strung up, her arms crossed over her chest and her stance shoulder-width apart. She inclines her head in an approving nod as the withered corpse is pulled into the trees to become Mount Gallow's fruit, and then she turns to look out across the mountain. Behind her, the Shadow Keep juts sharply upwards, its immense, darkened spires and spikes piercing the slate wintery sky - even from this distance, there is something minatory and looming about the fortress. But, also...

    A cold wind sweeps across the mountaintop, the chill air refreshing. Cleansing.

    Welcoming. That is what it is. There is a sense of RIGHTNESS and BELONGING to the building's outlines.

    It is your home.

    You have emoted: Aldric's gaze falls upon the looming fortress, his arms raising to cross over his chest as he seems content to merely observe its massive proportions for some quiet, pensive time.

    Moirean strides towards you her cold demeanor melting. A hint of a smile dances around her lips and she claps you on the shoulder. "Come," she says. "Aldric. Let's get you your soulstone."

    Toz's eyes flash a luminous red, the light lingering and unfading.

    You have emoted: "That.. sounds like a plan," Aldric says, the tension in his form beginning to fade as he releases the words with a nod to Moirean.

    [walking walking]

    You follow Moirean to the north.

    A shadowy training yard.

    -- v36877 ---

         [ ]
          |
     [ ]-[+]-[s]
          |
    - - -[ ]- - -
        / | \

    -- 0:10:2 ---
    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 plain grey pack lies here. A four-legged beast from hell stands here. An iron cauldron is here upon three clawed feet.  A murky darkness has settled in here. 

    As a group, Moirean, Toz and yourself travel back inside the Keep, boots stamping snow on the cobblestones as you make your way through the courtyard into the training area. There is a different feeling, now, utterly and completely new from the tense, cold atmosphere of half a day ago. Nothing is said, but the change is obvious. You are part of them, now. No longer an outsider. No longer the wayward knight. No longer the Dishonoured. Aldric, now. Aldric.

    The master soulstone flares with a dark flash of murky light as you enter. It hungers.

    You have emoted: Aldric walks with a confident, upright stride beside Toz and Moirean, his attention focused upon the master soulstone. "May I?" he seems to ask Moirean with an arch of a single brow.

    Moirean nods firmly. "You've earned the right," she states.

    Toz notes, apparently less easy to please than Moirean, "Again." He frowns faintly, adding simply, "There will not be a next time, so long as I remain in the Keep."

    The stone pulses, tendrils of azure light unfolding in long, questing arms, as if to beckon you closer.

    You have emoted: There's no hesitation in Aldric's next motion- with a sort of sudden intensity that betrays his previously-calm demeanor, he thrusts his hand towards the enormous, pulsating stone. While one would expect the breaking of his knuckles or the likes to occur, the stone instead reacts as if some sort of voracious substance, the man's hand sinking deep into its surface. His eyes flutter shut for a moment that seems dragged almost dramatically on as ethereal hands press themselves against the stone's interior while wails and tormented cries fill the air. Just as quickly as he initially reacted, he jerks his hand backwards, withdrawing it from the enormous stone with an ominously-glowing stone of his own in hand.

    It is like returning to the embrace of an old lover. There is pain, of course, but the strength which surges through your soul drowns the hurt in wave upon wave of surging power. Dark, beautiful, brilliant - and you feel a snap, something returning to your very core, and you only now realize what you were missing. Only now do you realize that you are whole. And more - as the master stone's force courses through you, you sense the strength and memories of the other knights, washing over your own, finally, finally with you again. Quiet and stoic, Toz's hammer is with you and you sense Moirean's cunning, underpinned by the memory of a brawl - does it matter which one? - and more. Mastema, Grimdale, Satomi, strangers and peers, all faintly twine through your returned strength, their own power and memories bolstering your own.

    The Tainting settles on your soul with a light, effortless darkening.

    You have emoted: Aldric's lips push upwards into a faint smile as he gazes into the depths of the stone, but yet stares beyond it. His eyes seem to be in a constant flux of motion as if watching a series of rapidly-moving images before his eyes, and yet all that truly stands physically before him is the enormous, pulsating stone.

    Almost breathlessly, you say, "Damn.."

    Moirean's voice is quiet, but there is a clear note of pride as she states, "Welcome home, Ser Aldric."
    image
    Feelings, sensations that you thought were dead. No squealin' remember, that it's all in your head.
    Bakhtuh
  • This was absolutely by far one of the most engaging and interesting roleplay arcs I've ever had the pleasure of getting to take part in. Thank you so much to @Moirean for the opportunity, and to @Toz as well for playing his part too in each session.



    image
    Feelings, sensations that you thought were dead. No squealin' remember, that it's all in your head.
    Moirean
  • MoireanMoirean Chairmander Portland
    That was a very fun bit of story - it was your idea, remember! Toz had a lot of the core thoughts behind the process, and I think the result is a cool one, flipping the guild's code on its head. Glad you enjoyed it - I love RPing with you, and I hope this is only the first step in your return to the Carnis! Aldric is such a cool, gruff character and you really bring life to every scene you are part of. :)
  • AngweAngwe I'm the dog that ate yr birthday cake Bedford, VA
    LOVE the illusions. And (if I'm not mistaken,) a few of those were the < command? Such a cool concept for guild/skillset RP.
    image
  • MoireanMoirean Chairmander Portland
    Heh, no, it was just me god-modding my emotes to make him feel stuff.
Sign In or Register to comment.