Some details that might offer clarity on some things mentioned in here can be found on a previous thread: http://www.thefreedomstone.com/phpBB3/viewtopic.php?f=3&t=9962&start=0
The Red Star:
33 | 03/08/2011 12:50 am
:::Amaranth is insightful. Unfortunately, she's not graced with the incredible speed necessary for it to matter, nor with enough perfect defenses, had she bothered to try any, to sustain the MULTIPLE blows from the Sword of Creation. She would never know how many died, and how many had been far enough from the reach of the shadowland to be saved, be it in the land of the living or the dead. Perhaps she might have time to wonder if this is why Juggernaut fled. Everything fades to black and searing pain. The explosions are so loud as to be deafening, yet despite it all, she realizes that she remains aware. As her vision begins to clear, she looks around and sees that she has a grave good of everything on her person. Her weapon is perfectly sheathed, and all that she is wearing is a perfect representation of itself. Then again, she begins to realize, these are no grave goods. Something saved her, and her alone, from annihilation at the hands of the Scarlet Empress, by means of the Realm Defense Grid. All around her is blackness that seems to move and to writhe, and she can feel the disconnect in her Essence which is utterly and uncomfortably familiar, for she is now somewhere in the Underworld. Her vision has yet to clear, so she knows not yet where she may be. At least she is alive, but who intended her survival, and why?:::
139 | 03/08/2011 12:58 am
Amaranth did all she could, but even that wasn't enough. Her chest heaved as she coughed, pulled herself to her feet, struggling to clear her senses and see - where was she, what had happened? The underworld, but she shouldn't even be alive. Once she had been unable to turn the devastation aside, she had been as effortlessly scorched as everything else in that storm of annihilation.
The Red Star:
33 | 03/08/2011 1:11 am
:::Her eyes adjust to the darkness beyond all that is pitch black, and she sees herself on a narrow path barely wider than the span between her feet. It circles eternally around a miles-wide gulf down into what her heart tells her is the final ending of all that is, has been, or might ever be. It is a place of no return, and it is one far too close for the comfort of even the most befouled of souls. Above her is a promise of light and life, the bleakness of the Labrynth, itself. Where she is is a part of the Labyrnth, but it is that part which extends into the most unholy of pits imaginable, and as she stares out across the gulf between the sides of this titanic maw, she sees many-fold tombs that hang impossibly over what should be the inevitable plunge into the Void of no return. Of these, only a handful are cracked, and one is cracked right before her. A simple plunge would not take her into unmaking, but into the most unholy of audiences, and it is from there that she hears the terrible voice that is more of an audible thought, a silent scream, and many things beyond her ability to even comprehend. There to her left, then behind her as she turns, cracks and peels form with every not-word that she thinks/hears in her mind. With each syllable, she feels the torturous agony of the thing speaking to her and cannot help but to at least partially yearn for the nothingness that they seek. Theirs is the lot of suffering that is endless death and equal awareness. It is an unending phantasmagoria of a mind once beyond even the Wyld itself, reduced into a nightmarish prison of self-realization, divine psychodrama, and an unquenchable thirst to end one's own agony. It is madness and hate steeped in a desire for revenge second only to the will to simply fade from all being. Each fragment of a syllable brings with it an understanding of this desire, not to simply cease suffering, but to simply not be.
"YOU WHO ARE OUR KILLER, COME FORTH. YOU ARE SAFE HERE, FOR IN THIS MOMENT, IF IN NO OTHER YET TO COME, THE OBJECT OF OUR WRATH IS MUTUAL. IT IS BY MY WILL THAT YOU ARE SURVIVED THAT WHICH IS THE END OF THORNS.":::
139 | 03/08/2011 1:21 am
Amaranth rested her hand guardedly on the grip of the Neverborn's Bane as she moved forward. "You'll forgive me if I have my doubts. Yet, you do have a fair argument in the fact I'm here at all." She advanced. "What is it you want? Why help me?"
The Red Star:
33 | 03/08/2011 1:28 am
:::The tomb to which she advances is monstrously big, dwarfed only by the miles-across gulf in which it floats impossibly. Through the crack, even before she goes through, she can see that within, the temple-tomb of whichever Neverborn that this may be is incredibly larger, by such that it might dwarf Creation. For all of its decaying grandeur, it is almost hard to believe that this is a withered, eternally-decaying thing that is far less vast than it had ever been in life. So much is the temple-tomb its corpse that it becomes nearly inconceivable that it is indeed the resting place of the shapeless mass that lies dead within. Given its size, there are only mere miles within that one could move around without having to climb the mound of dry-rotted, mummified divinity that had once been greater than gods, many of whom it had probably crafted in the earliest epochs of Creation, long before the Ages of Man, and long indeed, before man, himself. Even in its defeat, it is grand, despite itself.
"BECAUSE, YOU SERVE AS THE ULTIMATE INSTRUMENT OF MY PUNISHEMENT FOR THE MASK OF WINTERS, WHO HAS BOTH BETRAYED AND FAILED MY BRETHREN AND I.":::
139 | 03/08/2011 1:32 am
"And so you want me to destroy the Mask of Winters on your behalf?" She prompted. "No, not for you. But I fully intend to, regardless. However, you did make him, and the other Deathlords. If you rescued me to that task, I thank you. If you have aid or insight to offer into that task, I welcome it. But I do not serve you fallen Titans." She spoke fearlessly.
The Red Star:
33 | 03/08/2011 1:39 am
:::"NEITHER DO YOU SERVE THE WILL OF THE DEATHLORD THAT YOU WIELD, SUN-CHILD, BUT AT LEAST YOU SHOW THE GRATITUDE THAT YOUR FORMER INCARNATION SORELY LACKED. FOR YOUR GRATITUDE, KNOW THIS, RADIANT AMARANTH OF DAYS YET TO COME: YOU LED AN ARMY FOR NAUGHT, FOR THE MASK OF WINTERS HAD, SHORTLY AFTER YOU DEPARTED CHELA, LEFT THORNS BEHIND. HE BEAT YOUR CIRCLE TO THE SEAL OF EIGHT DIVINITIES, AND THROUGH IT TRAVELLED DEEP INTO THE HEART OF OUR BROTHER-BETRAYER, WHO IS THE AUTHOR OF THE SUN'S DAMNABLE WEAPONS. HE SOUGHT TO MURDER AUTOCHTHON. THIS WOULD HAVE PLEASED US, SAVE FOR HIS INTENTION OF BETRAYAL, FOR HE SOUGHT TO FEED UPON THE HEART THAT SICKLY, PATHETIC RUNT THAT HE MIGHT BECOME MORE THAN DEATHLORD, THAT HE MIGHT BE LIKE US, WHILE FREE TO COME AND GO OF HIS OWN WILL. HE SOUGHT TO BECOME ONCEBORN, FETTERED WITH THE POWER OF A SLAIN PRIMORDIAL, YET ALIVE ENOUGH TO RESIST BOTH OUR WILL AND THE ETERNAL PULL OF THAT WHICH IS OUR GOAL: OBLIVION. NOT ONLY DID HE BETRAY US SUCH, BUT HE WAS THWARTED AND FAILED, BY YOUR CIRCLE. HE FELL TO THEM AND CANNOT LEAVE THE LABRYNTH FOR ANOTHER YEAR. I HAVE VISITED UPON HIM MANY TORMENTS, AND NOW I DELIVER HIM UNTO YOU.":::
139 | 03/08/2011 1:45 am
"Deliver him, then." She answered. "You need my blade to end him for good, do you not?" She prompted. "Because he cannot be allowed to exist, I will destroy him for you. In return, I expect passage back to Creation." She paused. "However, I have a question, should you be inclined to answer it. When I destroyed the Maiden of the Mirthless Smile, one of you spoke through her that you had been delivered the Loom of Fate. What do you know of this?"
The Red Star:
33 | 03/08/2011 1:56 am
:::What can be heard, that which shakes the very ground beneath her feet and makes her glad that there is a ground beneath her feet, and not just the empty void or the narrow path upon which she strode, just might be what can be described as a laugh. "AH! THE BETRAYER-SIDEREAL, THE ONE WHO TAKES NOT THE PATH OF BRONZE OR OF GOLD, WHO HEEDS NOT THE WILL OF CHEJOP KAJEK, WHO ORDERED THE EXTERMINATION OF THE SOLAR EXALTED SO LONG AGO, OR THE DESIRES OF AYESHA URA, WHO WOULD BE THE POWER BEHIND THEIR RETURN. IT IS SHE WHO HAS PLAYED THE ROLE OF OUR AGENT, WHO STRODE BLINDLY INTO A CREATION THAT NEVER WAS, WHERE THE SOLARS WERE HUMBLED AND THE USURPATION STOPPED. THERE, SHE FOUND THE MEANS TO DELIVER THE CALENDAR OF SETESH TO THE FIVESCORE FELLOWSHIP, WHO WERE BLIND TO HER PURPOSE IN THIS. THEY TOUCH THE DESTINY OF THE UNDERWORLD, WHILE WE ***DESTROY*** THAT OF CREATION. FOR HER DEEDS, SHE SHALL BE GIVEN THE HONOUR OF JOINING THE RANKS OF THE DEATHLORDS UPON HER DEMISE." The very temple-tomb itself shifts, and Amaranth can't help but think that this is a rare moment in a Neverborn's existence, what in simpler things might be considered a smile. It is then that a black, shapeless mass opens in the air some 50 feet ahead of her, between herself and the main body of the Neverborn, that corpse which rots within its own corpse. The shapeless shadow-ooze breaks apart, and the Mask of Winters falls through. His armour is little more than soulsteel tatters hanging to ghostly tendons, exposed from holes in his flesh. His grand daiklave is nowhere to be seen, and as he looks up, his mask shatters, to reveal the face of the man that he had been in life. The ground bleeds a little at his feet, and for all of his attempt to muster some last ounce of self-respect and defiance, his is the face of a man long broken:::
(( This is a fitting face for Larquen Quen: http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uiarJGT9bk8/T ... 0/rage.jpg ))
139 | 03/08/2011 2:03 am
"Betrayer-Sidereal..." She breathed, and scowled silently. Raining Tears had been their companion for a time, but she had shared little. It seemed that even Sidereals had their corruptions. As the Mask of Winters was presented to her, Amaranth strode forward, drew Neverborn's Bane, and shifted the blade to lift the broken Deathlord's chin. Merela's voice howled, calling out to the man who was once the Mask of Winters, and Amaranth looked on that pallid, broken face without reaction. "You have ended countless lives, brought chaos and destruction to creation, and even betrayed your masters in an effort to become a power-hungry monster for your own ends. You are a threat to Creation, The Underworld, and all that exists." Amaranth paused, and hissed sharply, with furious determination. "I will give you the right of last words. Let your masters and I hear your final statements - for that shall be all that remains when I sear you from being."
The Red Star:
33 | 03/08/2011 2:09 am
:::For a moment he's silent, as he stares into his warped reflection on the gold and black patterns that are her unique grand daiklave. He nods, as if hearing something. "THAT is what you offer me?" He's speaking, but it's not to the Neverborn and not to Amaranth. "Let Oblivion claim me! I do not WANT the 'mercy' of Lethe! You disgust me, Merela!" He then looks up at Amaranth and sneers, as he turns to face the dessicated, hulking form that is the heart of the temple-tomb. "I have no final words for you, only sentiment." With that, he raises his right arm and turns it behind him, that his hand might face what had been his master for longer than any would care to remember. He makes a gesture that is universal, sign language that started when Old Realm was the only language known to man, and which carried through each of the tongues created by the Solar Deliberative. It is a single-fingered gesture of displeasure whose meaning is one of equal vulgarity and contempt. Quietly, he murmers, "Do it.":::
139 | 03/08/2011 2:14 am
Amaranth's hand tightened on the blade, and essence volted down the blade, sparking through the orichalcum, then through veins in the soulsteel, as the blade enveloped in light while she turned it, piercing it evenly through his chest. Merela's voice turned into a final pronouncement, as the blade's Solar Bolt cracked outward through the essence of the Deathlord-remnant, fracturing the work of the Neverborn, shrouding essence from the blade containing the overwhelming surge of holy essence in a cocoon as it magnified, accumulated, rose in pressure, consuming and dissolving the soul and all it's broken power. Amaranth jerked her blade slightly, and the shadowy seal cracked, painfully-bright spurts of light erupting from the cracks in all directions before the 'egg' shattered in explosive light and shadow.
The Red Star:
33 | 03/08/2011 2:16 am
:::Amidst that explosion of light, she sees Larquen Quen devoid of the vestments of the Neverborn, reduced to the soul of the man that he had been upon his death. He looks up with a contemplative expression. "It is finished," he says, with a look of relief in his eyes. That which had been the Mask of Winters is no more, as he passes into Lethe:::
139 | 03/08/2011 2:17 am
Amaranth shook her head, eying him. "Not yet. " She stated to him. "You're only the first of them." she stated. "Go, now."
The Red Star:
33 | 03/08/2011 2:20 am
:::That same shaking of the ground happens once more. It is twice in one night that a Neverborn has laughed, and probably the only two times in its tormented existence, since it ceased to be the Primordial that it once was.
"YOU STILL HOLD IN YOUR HEART THE WEAKNESS OF THE CONQUERED SUN: MERCY. MERCY SHALL BE YOUR UNMAKING, THAT WHICH PUTS AN END TO THE MISTAKE OF CREATION.":::
139 | 03/08/2011 2:32 am
Amaranth lowered her head to the shaking ground as she drew the blade back, sheathing it smoothly across her back. "Mercy... Misused, it is a weakness, yes." She paused. "But I don't feel that it is always so." She paused.
"Did you need anything further with me, before I return to Creation?" she asked, wary, still, but able to see that at the least this Neverborn seemed to keep his word thus far.
The Red Star:
33 | 03/08/2011 2:46 am
:::The laughing subsides. "MERCY, LIKE MANY WEAPONS, IS A DOUBLE-EDGED SWORD. WE LOST CONTROL OF THE FALLEN MONARCH IN REPOSE, BUT WE WERE NOT UNAWARE OF HER AIMS. RARELY, DID SHE EVER CONSIDER WHY WE NEVER SENT THE FIRST AND FORSAKEN LION TO DISPATCH HER, WHY THE ARMIES OF THE DEATHLORDS NEVER BROUGHT HER TO US TO BE SENTENCED, AND HER ONLY MENTION WAS A LEGEND OF A FOURTEENTH DEATHLORD. HER DESIGNS WERE UNDERSTOOD BETTER BY US THAN BY HER, AND NOW, BOTH SHE AND THE INHERITOR OF HER FOUL ESSENCE HAVE BECOME OUR WEAPON!"
If a Neverborn could sneer, then the whole lot of them, at least those whose tombs are cracked and who are aware of things beyond their own misery, most certainly are.
"ONLY THROUGH US, CAN THE DEATHLORDS KNOW OBLIVION, AND WE GRANT IT NOT UNTO THEM UNTIL THEY ARE NO LONGER NECESSARY. STRIKE THEM DOWN A MILLION TIMES, AND A MILLION TIMES SHALL THEY RETURN TO DEVASTATE CREATION IN OUR NAME. ONLY THROUGH THE RELEASE OF LETHE, CAN CREATION BE SPARED THEIR INSATIABLE URGE TO KILL. ONLY THROUGH THE MERCY THAT YOU HOLD IN YOUR HAND, OUR WEAPON THAT YOUR PATHETIC MERELA UNWITTINGLY SACRIFICED HER FREEDOM TO BECOME, AND WHICH YOU WILLFULLY USED TO DO OUR BIDDING. BEHOLD!!!! ONLY THIS MERCY CAN RELEASE THEM AND FREE CREATION OF THE DEATHLORDS, BUT EVEN ONE DEATHLORD IS MORE THAN ANY SOUL EVER TO ENTER IN UNTO LETHE. WITH EACH PASSAGE OF THESE BLOATED SOULS IS NOT THE PASSING ONLY OF A GHOST WHOSE ESSENCE HAS THE MAGNITUDE OF THE SOLAR THAT ONCE THEY HAD BEEN, BUT WITH IT, THE FRAGMENTS OF OUR SLAIN DAEVA. EVEN WITH THE MASK OF WINTERS' PASSING, LETHE IS NOW CLOGGED. WHAT SHALL HAPPEN, FOOLISH SOLAR, TO THE SOULS CLOGGED IN LETHE, AND WHAT WILL THAT DO TO THE UNDERWORLD, LO TO THE WRETCHED CREATION THAT IT REFLECTS? MERCY SHALL MAKE THE END ALL THE SWEETER, AS WITH EACH ACT OF KINDNESS, WITH EACH SIGH OF RELIEF, THE AGONY THAT IT CAUSES MULTIPLES THOUSANDS-FOLD. IF THE DEATHLORDS, IF THE ABYSSAL EXALTED, IF EVERY NEPHWRACK AND SPECTRE THEREUNDER SHOULD FAIL US, ***YOU***, AMARANTH, AND THE REST OF THE SOLAR HOST, SHALL STILL BE THE INSTRUMENTS OF OUR RELEASE. WE HAVE HAD AEONS TO PREPARE FOR THIS, AND EVEN SHOULD IT TAKE AEONS MORE, CREATION ***WILL*** DIE."
It pauses for a moment, for what is the third smile in its existence, and the ground cracks and stretches to accommodate this impossibility.
"IT WAS *I* WHO ALLOWED MERELA THIS FOLLY, BUT I AM NOT WITHOUT MY OWN MERCY, SUN-CHILD. I MAKE YOU THIS OFFER. WALK TO FREEDOM AS YOU WISH, WITH THE PROMISE THAT YOU OFFERED TO YOURSELF IN MY NAME. KNOW THAT I WILL NOT ALLOW ANY SPECTRE, ANY ABYSSAL, ANY DEATHLORD, ANY HEKATONKHIRE, NARY ANY FORCE OF OBLIVION TO HINDER YOU OR TO LAY A HAND UPON YOU WITH ANY INTENT OF HARM. YOU WILL GO FORTH AS YOU INTEND, AND SURELY CREATION WILL SUFFER FOR IT.
ALTERNATIVELY, RADIANT AMARANTH OF MORNINGS YET TO COME, EMBRACE YOUR DESTINY: BECOME THE DIM REALIZATION OF DAYS LONG-PASSED, BECOME MY NEWEST DEATHLORD, AND KNOW THAT YOU WILL KILL CREATION, BUT WITH A MERCY THAT WOULD MAKE THE CONQUERED SUN PROUD. WE WROTE LONG AGO, INTO THE STARS OF OUR DEATHS' MAKING, THE LIVING WILL NEVER TRIUMPH OVER US, BUT IN YOU THERE IS AT LEAST THE PROMISE OF THE KINDNESS WE MIGHT ONCE HAVE OFFERED WHEN WE WORE OUR TRUE FORMS. GIVE THEM A KINDLY RELEASE, OR IGNORE OUR WILL, DEFY US, AND KNOW THAT YOURS IS THE HAND THAT BRINGS CREATION TO ITS END, SCREAMING, BURNING, AND IN PAIN, INSTEAD OF THE QUIET, PEACEFUL, AND BLISSFUL RELEASE THAT I OFFER UNTO YOU TO DELIVER. THE CHOICE IS YOURS; THE END RESULT IS FOR US THE SAME.":::
The Red Star:
33 | 03/08/2011 2:51 am
((By the way, roll your Compassion to refuse his offer, IF you refuse to become his Deathlord. Stupid, useless Compassion! I am aware, as well, of your high Conviction, so you can forgo that roll for another, if you feel that it makes sense. That is, you can instead roll Conviction to resist, and NOT have to fail, IF you feel that your character would believe that defiance is still the better option. In this case, however, failure means that you would relent, as per your Conviction. The choice is yours.))
((note to readers, she went with Compassion and was fortunate enough to botch with a roll of 1,1,6))
The Red Star:
33 | 03/08/2011 2:53 am
((Lucky botch! RP it. ))
139 | 03/08/2011 2:58 am
As Amaranth heard his gloating, his self-assured, endless confidence, she felt a sickening twist in her gut. Merela, Herself, and Raining Tears - all had been used by these vile monsters. This vile monster. Amaranth shook her head coolly as he made his offer. "I must refuse." she stated. "Your dark power, however great, holds no appeal to me." She stated. "My own is more vast and great, and it is a light unto this world. I cannot allow it to be extinguished." She started forward, but paused after several steps. Slowly, her hand reached back, grasping Neverborn's Bane. She called out to Merela silently, seeking to hear her words through the Blade. Did she feel used? No, she acted of her own convictions, even if they had been orchestrated. And even still, Merela agreed. Moreso - even the Deathlords needed to be destroyed. Destroyed, not cast back to Lethe. With their deaths, their fragmentary daevas would dissolve, and release Lethe, so calculated her thoughts. Yet, here Amaranth had a perfect chance... One of the entombed monsters right here beneath her. The light of her blade could rend it apart here and now - yet she lacked the magic to shred the spirit on her own.
The Red Star:
33 | 03/08/2011 3:03 am
:::"YOU STILL BELIEVE THAT IT IS POWER THAT I OFFER UNTO YOU, WHEN IT IS POWER THAT I HOLD, NO MATTER YOUR DECISION? WHAT I OFFER YOU IS THE LAST VESTIGE OF KINDNESS AND RESPECT WITHIN ME. NONE THE LESS, YOUR DECISION IS MADE. SO MODE IT BE," replies the Neverborn. "KNOW THAT THE WAY BACK TO CREAITON SHALL BE GRANTED TO YOU THROUGH THE LABRYNTH. MERELY SPEAK THE NAME OF THE LOCATION, AND THE PATH WILL MAKE ITS WAY BEFORE YOU, TO THE NEAREST SHADOWLAND TO YOUR DESTINATION. KNOW THIS, SOLAR, OUR LIVING BRETHREN ARE CLOSE TO TAKING CREATION. IF THE PAIN THAT YOUR MERCY SHALL BRING UPON ALL OF THE SOULS OF CREATION, IN BOTH THIS MERCY KILLING AND IN ANY FUTURE ONES, IS NOT ENOUGH, THEN DOUBTLESS THE YOZIS WILL DO OUR BIDDING BY THEIR VERY NATURE. IF YOU KEEP TO YOUR PATH, OUR VICTORY WILL BE ONE BORN IN UNTOLD AGONY, YET IT IS LIKELY THAT YOU MAY RETURN TO US OF YOUR OWN VOLITION.
KNOW THEN THAT WE ARE ALIKE IN BUT ONE WAY. I AM NOT WITHOUT MERCY. MY OFFER REMAINS ETERNAL. GO IN PEACE, FOR ONE WAY OR ANOTHER, WE ***WILL*** MEET AGAIN.":::
139 | 03/08/2011 3:10 am
"Yes. Of that we can be sure." She paused, then started ahead. She was silent, but her resolution was palpable, as she left the tomb, toward the Labyrinth itself. She would return - and when she did, she would shatter each of these mad, dead gods, and seal the pit of oblivion forever. As she entered the labyrinth, she was left to face a lack of direction. Thorns was destroyed -- but there could be survivors. However, Chela would not be getting back it's army. Yevis's troops.. Suvi... Amaranth hadn't been able to entertain thoughts of their demise before, but now, it was all she could think of. Her allies, comrades... The Scarlet Empress... Her mount, too...
All that had been built was not lost. Even so.. Raining Tears, too, had betrayed Creation's very Fate to the Neverborn... It was overwhelming, the sheer endlessness of the threats - and the powerlessness she'd faced in the face of dealing with them. Yet, she'd done what she must... How, though, to continue her quest with absent allies, a thousand destinations, and no clear image of some good she could do...
The Red Star:
33 | 03/08/2011 3:12 am
:::So it is that the crack in the Neverborn's tomb offers safe passage over the Mouth of the Void, that she might stride into the Labrynth. All that she then has to do to navigate the maddening skein is to but speak the name of where she would go:::
139 | 03/08/2011 3:15 am
After a lengthy debate, Amaranth whispered into the dark. "Chela. Unfurl the path, back to Chela."
The Red Star:
33 | 03/08/2011 3:20 am
:::So it is, along the way, that every spectre that she might encounter, and this numbers thousands, bows regally before her. The walls themselves turn around before her, that her path is as direct as the Labyrnth might make it. For the entire hour of her trip, she hears a chorus of billions of souls, and of these she's eerily certain the Deathlords are included, singing her praises. The name of Radiant Amaranth of Mornings Yet to Come is used equally with the Title that she has, for now, turned down, a promise of what she must be, if she has a shred of mercy left in her soul: the Dim Realization of Days Long Passed. The praise is ceaseless in her journey, and amidst that praise, she hears something else: the screams of terror from souls already passing into the river of Lethe, only not to pass, and the thunderous, angry roar of that river, which has been damned with kindness. When at last the path takes her up into a tiny shadowland, the very last thing that she hears, before the Labrynth snaps shut behind her and she pops into a Shadowland no bigger than a broom closet, is mocking, uproarious laughter:::
139 | 03/08/2011 3:31 am
No. Those voices sicken her as she advances, and as she continues, the gravity of the situation settles. Is Lethe fully blocked? There's no way she can know, but there is nothing more she can do, not now.
It was Insidious... but it had all been arranged. Should she have cast the mask into Oblivion, he would yet return... It was an impossible situation, it always was. As she emerged from the tiny Shadowland near Chela, Amaranth tried to block out all that had happened. For now, she had to bear the ill news back to the city she had helped to build. Ill news in the passing of Yevis's troops... of Suvi's demise... and her own failing - that... there was none who could help her to shoulder that. None who might be able to help her fix what had been done.
Hope was a foul thing. Not long ago... She'd been leading a force to test the power of her blade. Now, though... it had been proven a curse. a self-defeating blade which couldn't achieve its purpose safely...
The Red Star:
33 | 03/08/2011 3:39 am
((So it is that one chapter-story in the final tale of the Second Age of Man, before we play in the Third, is at a close. You receive the following experience point spread:
4 - Full session award.
2 - Bonus role-play award for a fucking outstanding portrayal of your character
5 - End of story award.