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Aeon (updated 10/9/14)
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<blockquote data-quote="Sepulchrave II" data-source="post: 5779126" data-attributes="member: 4303"><p><strong>Day 2 – Down</strong></p><p></p><p></p><p>“You are very <em>small</em>, Shomei,” Eadric observed.</p><p></p><p>“Yes, <em>Ahma</em>.”</p><p></p><p>“Is this an hereditary trait?”</p><p></p><p>“My flesh is infernal, <em>Ahma</em>.”</p><p></p><p>“But your prior incarnation – upon which your present body is based – was…<em>slight</em>. At least, the <em>first</em> one was…or… What I mean to say is that I know nothing of your ancestry. Is your lineage magical?”</p><p></p><p>She gave a quizzical look. “It <em>was</em>; yes, <em>Ahma</em>. Sorcerous, actually – although several generations removed. And aristocratic. With a dash of fey – which is never a bad thing for an arcanist, and may account for my <em>small</em>-ness.”</p><p></p><p>“And your parents?”</p><p></p><p>“Were devout and faithful,” Shomei said drily.</p><p></p><p>“And what became of them?”</p><p></p><p>“Devils killed them, <em>Ahma</em>.”</p><p></p><p>“Oh. I’m sorry.”</p><p></p><p>“I <em>conjured</em> the devils, <em>Ahma</em>,” Shomei explained.</p><p></p><p>“Oh.” A look of horror crossed his face.</p><p></p><p>“I was young,” Shomei was nonplussed. “It was an act committed without principle.”</p><p></p><p>“How young?” Eadric asked.</p><p></p><p>“Five, <em>Ahma</em>.”</p><p></p><p>His eyes widened. “<em>Five?</em> Your parents had angered you in some way?”</p><p></p><p>“They took my books away, <em>Ahma</em>. I wanted them back.”</p><p></p><p>“Oh,” Eadric nodded uncertainly. “Perhaps they thought your books were dangerous?”</p><p></p><p>“They were, <em>Ahma</em>.”</p><p></p><p>“Apparently so,” Eadric raised an eyebrow. “And after you had…well…”</p><p></p><p>“Murdered my parents?” She asked.</p><p></p><p>“Yes…”</p><p></p><p>“I got my books back, <em>Ahma</em>.”</p><p></p><p>“But in terms of your <em>upbringing</em>, Shomei.”</p><p></p><p>“My servants looked after me.” </p><p></p><p>“No other relatives? No guardian?” Eadric asked, aghast.</p><p></p><p>“I did not need them. My servants were <em>devils</em>, <em>Ahma</em>.” </p><p></p><p>*</p><p></p><p>“Yesterday, you went <em>up</em>; will you go <em>down</em> today?” Shomei inquired.</p><p></p><p>“Exactly how closely have you been monitoring my movements, Shomei? And did I stumble upon the celestial repository, or was I directed to it?”</p><p></p><p>“I did not manipulate you toward it, if that is what you are asking,” she replied. Her answer seemed genuine. “I knew of it, but have not had the leisure to investigate it. But the library has a habit of <em>presenting</em> certain books or collections; if you were <em>directed</em>, then it was not by me. As to monitoring – not in the way you might think. I am aware of where you are and where you have been, if I call you to mind. I <em>can</em> encourage you to take certain paths – as I did in your inbound journey yesterday when I perceived that you wanted to return – but in your explorations, you were following your own impulses. I was busy with my conjurations.”</p><p></p><p>“Would you suggest going down?”</p><p></p><p>“I make no recommendation,” Shomei answered. “You could go straight, or left, or right, or backwards; or some combination of any of these – including up and down – but these are harder to track. <em>Only</em> going down is an easier route to focus upon; you are new to the geography.”</p><p></p><p>“I suspect that the willful act of descent would be harder for me,” Eadric remarked.</p><p></p><p>Shomei shrugged. She exited the cottage, and sealed it.</p><p></p><p>Eadric sighed.</p><p></p><p></p><p>**</p><p></p><p></p><p>“They seethe and swell like a great, purposeful ocean of malice,” Nehael explained. “They are without number. There is nothing left for them to consume except each other; hence they must <em>move</em>. The greatest – Idyam and Dhatri herself, together with the Embassy – remain near to the centre. Rishih, Naatha and Prahar are closer to the periphery of the mob. They are only forty miles away – would you like to see?”</p><p></p><p>Nwm nodded grimly. </p><p></p><p>Ortwine looked sceptical. “How?”</p><p></p><p>“I can show you; Nwm knows what I mean. The experience will not be pleasant.”</p><p></p><p>“Very well.” The sidhe gave a resigned sigh.</p><p></p><p>Perception expanded to embrace reality within sixty miles. To the south, a festering tide of corruption of such magnitude that it seemed as though the World could not sustain its weight. Nwm reeled. Ortwine staggered and vomited. </p><p></p><p>“And you experience this <em>all of the time?</em>” Ortwine groaned. She vomited again.</p><p></p><p> Nehael smiled. </p><p></p><p>“How did you get close enough to <em>shoot</em>?” Ortwine asked her, regaining her breath. “Was she not alerted?”</p><p></p><p>“Yes,” Nehael nodded in a matter-of-fact way. “But she did not withdraw. She struck me with fire. Coming within a league was difficult. The press of corpses was thick; it was hard to aim…”</p><p></p><p>“Wait. You can shoot from <em>three miles</em>?”</p><p></p><p>“I can shoot from six, Ortwine; as long as I have a clear aim – I didn’t.”</p><p></p><p>The sidhe wiped her mouth and raised an eyebrow. “This, I have to see. I assume that your missile struck its target unerringly?”</p><p></p><p>“I shot eighteen arrows at her before she could react,” Nehael replied. “Only one found its mark.”</p><p></p><p>Ortwine looked at Nwm. “I think we’re <em>seriously</em> out of our depth.”</p><p></p><p>Nwm stared at Nehael. “And Teppu…how did he fare? I mean, I have never seen him so <em>weak</em>.”</p><p></p><p>“He died five times. It was difficult for him. And each time I brought him back as himself again – it is hard for a self-incarnate such as he.”</p><p></p><p>“Why was he even <em>there</em>? Could he meaningfully affect the outcome?”</p><p></p><p>“A little, perhaps. But each of us can only do <em>a little</em>. I do not enjoy what I do, Nwm; really, he was there for me. So I didn’t have to be alone. He is kind.” She smiled.</p><p></p><p>“And today?” Nwm asked. “You will both ride out again?”</p><p></p><p>Nehael shook her head. “I would spare him the experience.”</p><p></p><p>“If you require a consociate,” Nwm said, “I will gladly offer myself.”</p><p></p><p>“I think you should also remain,” Nehael suggested. “Teppu is here; Hlioth is nearby; Mesikammi is on her way. The Temple is all but spent of power, and the <em>Ahma</em> is missing. You should give thought to the defense here; a quarter of the Cheshnite host will be here within a few days.”</p><p></p><p>“Only a quarter?” Ortwine asked.</p><p></p><p>“It is more than enough to contain Galda,” Nehael explained. “The rest will bypass it altogether, and head north, straight for Wyre. And I have a companion in mind.”</p><p></p><p>The sidhe heard a soft hoof-fall, felt hot breath on her neck, and turned. <em>Narh</em> had approached, and was nuzzling her eagerly.</p><p></p><p>“Me?” Ortwine inquired. “Undead are not my specialty.”</p><p></p><p>“If you are willing, I could use the company.” Nehael smiled. “Besides, you said that you wanted to see me shoot.”</p><p></p><p>“Two against a million would seem to be a rather uneven match.” Ortwine observed drily.</p><p></p><p>“If it were only a million, our impact might be more significant,” Nehael replied.</p><p></p><p>“If I die, take note that <em>I</em> am perfectly content with this form; I do not wish to be a buckawn or a sylph.”</p><p></p><p>“Duly noted,” Nehael nodded. “Unless Hummaz snatches you first.”</p><p></p><p>Ortwine raised an eyebrow. “A joke?”</p><p></p><p>“No,” Nehael strapped her sword across her back. “It is unlikely, but it is as well to be prepared. Stay close to me; you will encounter every conceivable type of undead, and some you have never imagined. You are goddess: the deathshriekers cannot touch you, but beware the crawling heads and famine spirits; many can abide my aura, and they may bite your head off.”</p><p></p><p>“Eadric, you moron,” Ortwine muttered under her breath, and mounted the stallion.</p><p></p><p></p><p>**</p><p></p><p></p><p>Eadric descended rapidly; he leaped down staircases, over banisters and through shafts which gave to lower floors. His heart pounded, and he wondered if there was a <em>bottom</em> to be found; no <em>top</em> had been revealed to him on the previous day, but he was also certain, in his own mind, that the library was <em>finite</em>. It did not appear to <em>bend</em> – inasmuch as he did not come back to some place which he had previously visited – and it seemed sensible to him that the entrance from Shomei’s cottage should be closer to the bottom than the top, and that the bottom must, therefore, be more accessible.</p><p></p><p>But he found no root; no foundation to the library: only a dismal, perpetual declivity into measureless depths filled with books. Again, all sense of time eluded him, but he knew that his plunging into the library’s bowels had consumed him for many hours; he had descended for miles. </p><p></p><p>Eadric paused to consider his predicament: ascent might take him days; he would need Shomei’s help, this time. But to ask her for anything…the notion sat uncomfortably with him. Had she returned? Or would his whispered entreaty to her interrupt her work? And why should the notion of <em>distracting</em> Shomei from her purpose – to overrun Wyre with devils for the object of her own self-aggrandizement – cause him conflict, in any case?</p><p></p><p>He sat upon a stone bench within a niche in a damp wall, and cleared his mind. From his pocket, he withdrew the scarf of heavy black silk which Soneillon had bestowed on him and pondered. The magics which the demoness had placed on the garland of flowers had eluded Shomei’s perception; he wondered if the samite might hide some similar secret. He needed a dream, perhaps, and she might manifest through it; but there were no dreams here. The prior infinity in which he found himself was cut off; isolated.</p><p></p><p>Eadric replaced the scarf and stood. He would wait a little while longer. He removed a hellish candle from its pricket and willed light upon it, illuminating his surroundings with a more substantial brightness; the radiance was at odds with the general character of the place. He walked a little way, rounded a corner, and found himself looking over a balcony into a wide amphitheatre. Some kind of devilish lecture-hall or auditorium; Eadric wondered what kind of lessons might have been expounded within its circuit. After searching for some time, he found his way down and made his way to the lectern – a morbid pulpit, wrought of steel and bone – upon which a book lay open. Its language – being an archaic dialect of Infernal – was unfamiliar to him.</p><p></p><p>He thumbed its hide pages and looked at dense text interspersed with curious pictograms and symbols, wary that he might inadvertently hex himself or invoke some latent malevolence. Still, the book somehow seemed <em>less</em> wicked than its surroundings. Recalling Shomei’s words regarding the library’s tendency to <em>present</em> certain tomes, the <em>Ahma</em> closed the book, removed it from the lectern, and tucked it beneath his arm. He ascended several levels, found a quiet cloister and scanned its pages for some clue as to its meaning, but could determine none. Finally – and again, time seemed to have drifted by without measure or meaning – he sighed.</p><p></p><p>“<em>Shomei</em>,” he spoke in a clear voice.</p><p></p><p>She appeared presently, and raised an eyebrow. “You have been gone a long time, and come very deep indeed, <em>Ahma</em>. These collections are hardly known to me.”</p><p></p><p>Eadric held out the book.</p><p></p><p>Shomei took it, and scanned its cover. She flipped its pages; her eyes widened in incredulity.</p><p></p><p>“I felt this tome was significant,” the <em>Ahma</em> explained. “It was on a rostrum in a hall not too far from here.”</p><p></p><p>Shomei stared at him suspiciously. “It might be deemed an heretical codex, from a conventional diabolic perspective. Here.”</p><p></p><p>She ran a hand over the book, and returned it to him.</p><p></p><p><em>The Reattainment of Luminance,</em> it read.</p><p></p><p>“There is no author,” Eadric remarked.</p><p></p><p>“No. The author had no name, <em>Ahma</em>.”</p><p></p><p>Eadric handed it back to her, and smiled. “Then I believe it is for you. The <em>Sela</em> once said to me that for you to surrender yourself to bliss would be the ultimate antinomian act. Perhaps the prior <em>I</em> entertained similar notions?”</p><p></p><p>She gave him a dubious look. “I will read it. But entertaining a notion and acting on it are two very different things. I confess I am weary, <em>Ahma</em>; if you wish to return…”</p><p></p><p>He nodded, and the scene changed abruptly: they were back in her study. As always, the fire burned; the scent of cinnamon hung in the air. It seemed familiar, comfortable, safe. Shomei placed the book on a table, threw off her robe and uncorked a flask. Eadric knew that she was exhausted; that she had emptied herself that day. He wondered if he might overwhelm her.</p><p></p><p>“Would you like <em>kschiff</em>?” She asked.</p><p></p><p>“No. But thank-you.” Eadric removed his shoes, sat, and entered <em>saizhan</em>.</p><p></p><p>When he arose, he saw that she was curled, asleep in a chair; the flask of liquor was empty and barely a dram remained in her glass. <em>The Reattainment of Luminance</em> was open on its last page; she had already finished it. He took it from her hand. The pages were still wet from her tears.</p><p></p><p>Eadric sighed, covered her with the <em>robe of meteors</em>, and returned to his meditations.</p><p></p><p></p><p>*</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Sepulchrave II, post: 5779126, member: 4303"] [B]Day 2 – Down[/B] “You are very [I]small[/I], Shomei,” Eadric observed. “Yes, [I]Ahma[/I].” “Is this an hereditary trait?” “My flesh is infernal, [I]Ahma[/I].” “But your prior incarnation – upon which your present body is based – was…[I]slight[/I]. At least, the [I]first[/I] one was…or… What I mean to say is that I know nothing of your ancestry. Is your lineage magical?” She gave a quizzical look. “It [I]was[/I]; yes, [I]Ahma[/I]. Sorcerous, actually – although several generations removed. And aristocratic. With a dash of fey – which is never a bad thing for an arcanist, and may account for my [I]small[/I]-ness.” “And your parents?” “Were devout and faithful,” Shomei said drily. “And what became of them?” “Devils killed them, [I]Ahma[/I].” “Oh. I’m sorry.” “I [I]conjured[/I] the devils, [I]Ahma[/I],” Shomei explained. “Oh.” A look of horror crossed his face. “I was young,” Shomei was nonplussed. “It was an act committed without principle.” “How young?” Eadric asked. “Five, [I]Ahma[/I].” His eyes widened. “[I]Five?[/I] Your parents had angered you in some way?” “They took my books away, [I]Ahma[/I]. I wanted them back.” “Oh,” Eadric nodded uncertainly. “Perhaps they thought your books were dangerous?” “They were, [I]Ahma[/I].” “Apparently so,” Eadric raised an eyebrow. “And after you had…well…” “Murdered my parents?” She asked. “Yes…” “I got my books back, [I]Ahma[/I].” “But in terms of your [I]upbringing[/I], Shomei.” “My servants looked after me.” “No other relatives? No guardian?” Eadric asked, aghast. “I did not need them. My servants were [I]devils[/I], [I]Ahma[/I].” * “Yesterday, you went [I]up[/I]; will you go [I]down[/I] today?” Shomei inquired. “Exactly how closely have you been monitoring my movements, Shomei? And did I stumble upon the celestial repository, or was I directed to it?” “I did not manipulate you toward it, if that is what you are asking,” she replied. Her answer seemed genuine. “I knew of it, but have not had the leisure to investigate it. But the library has a habit of [I]presenting[/I] certain books or collections; if you were [I]directed[/I], then it was not by me. As to monitoring – not in the way you might think. I am aware of where you are and where you have been, if I call you to mind. I [I]can[/I] encourage you to take certain paths – as I did in your inbound journey yesterday when I perceived that you wanted to return – but in your explorations, you were following your own impulses. I was busy with my conjurations.” “Would you suggest going down?” “I make no recommendation,” Shomei answered. “You could go straight, or left, or right, or backwards; or some combination of any of these – including up and down – but these are harder to track. [I]Only[/I] going down is an easier route to focus upon; you are new to the geography.” “I suspect that the willful act of descent would be harder for me,” Eadric remarked. Shomei shrugged. She exited the cottage, and sealed it. Eadric sighed. ** “They seethe and swell like a great, purposeful ocean of malice,” Nehael explained. “They are without number. There is nothing left for them to consume except each other; hence they must [I]move[/I]. The greatest – Idyam and Dhatri herself, together with the Embassy – remain near to the centre. Rishih, Naatha and Prahar are closer to the periphery of the mob. They are only forty miles away – would you like to see?” Nwm nodded grimly. Ortwine looked sceptical. “How?” “I can show you; Nwm knows what I mean. The experience will not be pleasant.” “Very well.” The sidhe gave a resigned sigh. Perception expanded to embrace reality within sixty miles. To the south, a festering tide of corruption of such magnitude that it seemed as though the World could not sustain its weight. Nwm reeled. Ortwine staggered and vomited. “And you experience this [I]all of the time?[/I]” Ortwine groaned. She vomited again. Nehael smiled. “How did you get close enough to [I]shoot[/I]?” Ortwine asked her, regaining her breath. “Was she not alerted?” “Yes,” Nehael nodded in a matter-of-fact way. “But she did not withdraw. She struck me with fire. Coming within a league was difficult. The press of corpses was thick; it was hard to aim…” “Wait. You can shoot from [I]three miles[/I]?” “I can shoot from six, Ortwine; as long as I have a clear aim – I didn’t.” The sidhe wiped her mouth and raised an eyebrow. “This, I have to see. I assume that your missile struck its target unerringly?” “I shot eighteen arrows at her before she could react,” Nehael replied. “Only one found its mark.” Ortwine looked at Nwm. “I think we’re [I]seriously[/I] out of our depth.” Nwm stared at Nehael. “And Teppu…how did he fare? I mean, I have never seen him so [I]weak[/I].” “He died five times. It was difficult for him. And each time I brought him back as himself again – it is hard for a self-incarnate such as he.” “Why was he even [I]there[/I]? Could he meaningfully affect the outcome?” “A little, perhaps. But each of us can only do [I]a little[/I]. I do not enjoy what I do, Nwm; really, he was there for me. So I didn’t have to be alone. He is kind.” She smiled. “And today?” Nwm asked. “You will both ride out again?” Nehael shook her head. “I would spare him the experience.” “If you require a consociate,” Nwm said, “I will gladly offer myself.” “I think you should also remain,” Nehael suggested. “Teppu is here; Hlioth is nearby; Mesikammi is on her way. The Temple is all but spent of power, and the [I]Ahma[/I] is missing. You should give thought to the defense here; a quarter of the Cheshnite host will be here within a few days.” “Only a quarter?” Ortwine asked. “It is more than enough to contain Galda,” Nehael explained. “The rest will bypass it altogether, and head north, straight for Wyre. And I have a companion in mind.” The sidhe heard a soft hoof-fall, felt hot breath on her neck, and turned. [I]Narh[/I] had approached, and was nuzzling her eagerly. “Me?” Ortwine inquired. “Undead are not my specialty.” “If you are willing, I could use the company.” Nehael smiled. “Besides, you said that you wanted to see me shoot.” “Two against a million would seem to be a rather uneven match.” Ortwine observed drily. “If it were only a million, our impact might be more significant,” Nehael replied. “If I die, take note that [I]I[/I] am perfectly content with this form; I do not wish to be a buckawn or a sylph.” “Duly noted,” Nehael nodded. “Unless Hummaz snatches you first.” Ortwine raised an eyebrow. “A joke?” “No,” Nehael strapped her sword across her back. “It is unlikely, but it is as well to be prepared. Stay close to me; you will encounter every conceivable type of undead, and some you have never imagined. You are goddess: the deathshriekers cannot touch you, but beware the crawling heads and famine spirits; many can abide my aura, and they may bite your head off.” “Eadric, you moron,” Ortwine muttered under her breath, and mounted the stallion. ** Eadric descended rapidly; he leaped down staircases, over banisters and through shafts which gave to lower floors. His heart pounded, and he wondered if there was a [I]bottom[/I] to be found; no [I]top[/I] had been revealed to him on the previous day, but he was also certain, in his own mind, that the library was [I]finite[/I]. It did not appear to [I]bend[/I] – inasmuch as he did not come back to some place which he had previously visited – and it seemed sensible to him that the entrance from Shomei’s cottage should be closer to the bottom than the top, and that the bottom must, therefore, be more accessible. But he found no root; no foundation to the library: only a dismal, perpetual declivity into measureless depths filled with books. Again, all sense of time eluded him, but he knew that his plunging into the library’s bowels had consumed him for many hours; he had descended for miles. Eadric paused to consider his predicament: ascent might take him days; he would need Shomei’s help, this time. But to ask her for anything…the notion sat uncomfortably with him. Had she returned? Or would his whispered entreaty to her interrupt her work? And why should the notion of [I]distracting[/I] Shomei from her purpose – to overrun Wyre with devils for the object of her own self-aggrandizement – cause him conflict, in any case? He sat upon a stone bench within a niche in a damp wall, and cleared his mind. From his pocket, he withdrew the scarf of heavy black silk which Soneillon had bestowed on him and pondered. The magics which the demoness had placed on the garland of flowers had eluded Shomei’s perception; he wondered if the samite might hide some similar secret. He needed a dream, perhaps, and she might manifest through it; but there were no dreams here. The prior infinity in which he found himself was cut off; isolated. Eadric replaced the scarf and stood. He would wait a little while longer. He removed a hellish candle from its pricket and willed light upon it, illuminating his surroundings with a more substantial brightness; the radiance was at odds with the general character of the place. He walked a little way, rounded a corner, and found himself looking over a balcony into a wide amphitheatre. Some kind of devilish lecture-hall or auditorium; Eadric wondered what kind of lessons might have been expounded within its circuit. After searching for some time, he found his way down and made his way to the lectern – a morbid pulpit, wrought of steel and bone – upon which a book lay open. Its language – being an archaic dialect of Infernal – was unfamiliar to him. He thumbed its hide pages and looked at dense text interspersed with curious pictograms and symbols, wary that he might inadvertently hex himself or invoke some latent malevolence. Still, the book somehow seemed [I]less[/I] wicked than its surroundings. Recalling Shomei’s words regarding the library’s tendency to [I]present[/I] certain tomes, the [I]Ahma[/I] closed the book, removed it from the lectern, and tucked it beneath his arm. He ascended several levels, found a quiet cloister and scanned its pages for some clue as to its meaning, but could determine none. Finally – and again, time seemed to have drifted by without measure or meaning – he sighed. “[I]Shomei[/I],” he spoke in a clear voice. She appeared presently, and raised an eyebrow. “You have been gone a long time, and come very deep indeed, [I]Ahma[/I]. These collections are hardly known to me.” Eadric held out the book. Shomei took it, and scanned its cover. She flipped its pages; her eyes widened in incredulity. “I felt this tome was significant,” the [I]Ahma[/I] explained. “It was on a rostrum in a hall not too far from here.” Shomei stared at him suspiciously. “It might be deemed an heretical codex, from a conventional diabolic perspective. Here.” She ran a hand over the book, and returned it to him. [I]The Reattainment of Luminance,[/I] it read. “There is no author,” Eadric remarked. “No. The author had no name, [I]Ahma[/I].” Eadric handed it back to her, and smiled. “Then I believe it is for you. The [I]Sela[/I] once said to me that for you to surrender yourself to bliss would be the ultimate antinomian act. Perhaps the prior [I]I[/I] entertained similar notions?” She gave him a dubious look. “I will read it. But entertaining a notion and acting on it are two very different things. I confess I am weary, [I]Ahma[/I]; if you wish to return…” He nodded, and the scene changed abruptly: they were back in her study. As always, the fire burned; the scent of cinnamon hung in the air. It seemed familiar, comfortable, safe. Shomei placed the book on a table, threw off her robe and uncorked a flask. Eadric knew that she was exhausted; that she had emptied herself that day. He wondered if he might overwhelm her. “Would you like [I]kschiff[/I]?” She asked. “No. But thank-you.” Eadric removed his shoes, sat, and entered [I]saizhan[/I]. When he arose, he saw that she was curled, asleep in a chair; the flask of liquor was empty and barely a dram remained in her glass. [I]The Reattainment of Luminance[/I] was open on its last page; she had already finished it. He took it from her hand. The pages were still wet from her tears. Eadric sighed, covered her with the [I]robe of meteors[/I], and returned to his meditations. * [/QUOTE]
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