Implementor Anume Posted March 18, 2010 Implementor Report Share Posted March 18, 2010 There are a few things you should know before you read this log. First, you should know of Joltax and Caidon. Joltax was a boy, possessed by creatures known as Torments. Caidon was the priest that fought to help Joltax find redemption. The Torments are known as: Rathus: The first torment, who possessed Joltax, manipulating his emotions to force him to kill his family, and his lover, Lythe. Iral: Drawn by Rathus, Iral manipulates his frustration and guilt into envy and hatred, and forces him to slay the rest of his village. Pridel: Drawn by Iral, Pridel becomes the dominant Torment, merging with Joltax shortly after Joltax first meets Caidon. Seloth: Drawn by Pridel, seeking an easy home, Seloth slumbers deep within Joltax, serving as both an anchor for the other Torments, and as a means of drowning Joltax in his own despair. Gular: Drawn by the scent of souls, Gular merges with Joltax as a way to guarantee his meals, coaxed by the other Torments. Avarial: Seeing the Torments already within Joltax, Avarial merges with him, planning to use the power of Joltax and the other Torments as a means to obtain everything. Lythe: Filled with grief for her own death, as well as hatred for Joltax, having killed her, Lythe refused to pass on. Instead, she haunted Joltax in solitude, until Caidon attempted to exorcise the Torments (read The Seventh Sin), when she becomes one of them in order to make Joltax suffer. After the failed exorcism, Joltax wandered the lands for many years, hiding from civilization. When he returned, he met the mage known as Vaerlin, who became an object of interest of Pridel's. After a long discussion, Pridel could no longer stifle Gular's urge to feed, and the two parted ways. Weeks later, Joltax once again sought out Caidon. This time, it was the Torments who called Caidon out, arrogantly agreeing to meet upon holy ground. During the course of the following exorcism, Lythe discovered the truth of her death, that it was Rathus that forced Joltax to kill her. Forgiving Joltax for her death, she helped him ward off the other Torments with Caidon. The Torments were defeated, driven back into the Rift, but not before issuing a threat to return. Lythe, purified by Caidon, passed peacefully into the next world, guided by the priest. Joltax left his belongings at the Altar of Purity, and disappeared from the lands forever. -------------------------------------------------------------- [ 70] SIGIL Caidon: Faith and life. Wed Mar 17 10:00:04 2010 To: Immortal Healer When I was still a young cleric, and not yet even a healer, I was attacked by a monk named Joltax. I could have slain him. I did not. He was a human. Deeply troubled but a human nonetheless. It became very clear very quickly that this man was possessed. Many would say that possession is not real but this fellow was certainly possessed. I tried to free him from the torment that I knew would come if he succumbed fully to the demons but I was not able to do so. Many years have past. Over eighty to be precise. When low and behold here comes Joltax. The voice that spoke was not his and I made my way back to the chapel where we first had our conversation. Seven shadows surrounded the monk. Seven demons. It seems that Joltax had slain his girlfriend and she, Lythe, still held him accountable. Something seemed off about it. Shortly after I realized that Joltax was driven to murder her by the demons. It came from Joltax's mouth. It took much time and a tremendous amount of effort but slowly Joltax and Lythe began to see that they had been played against each other. Then Joltax struck! Chanting and praying. Loaning my energy and the power of God into this brave monk's form, he obliterated the demons and sent them back into the darkness. They vowed revenge on me but they always do. Two souls were saved. Joltax is free of his torment and able to live his own life. Lythe has forgiven Joltax and now stands next to our Creator, free of the hate that bound her, and waiting on her love to arrive. It was an incredible day. One that I will not soon forget. You call me an outcast for my actions in defense of my castle. I have killed it is true, but I have also saved. No longer do I have regrets for what I have done in service of the Crown. God has forgiven me. I hope that one day you will see fit to restore my honor in my guild. Until then I will continue to walk the road with my faith as my guide and I will save all I can. Now, after so many years, I truly understand the value of life and the power of love. Father Caidon -------------------------------------------------------------- Melanor, a curious dark general of a long-since vanquished army, sought the power of the rift. Having witnessed it first hand, he has craved it ever since. Seeking a mage to help him understand the energies of the rift, they sought out a gateway. By a stroke of luck, this mage happened to be Vaerlin. This is where the log picks up. Melanor ignores the warning, or rather, does not hear it, his attention completely focused on the portal. Melanor mutters something lost to the wind as he takes step by dangerous step closer to the rift. 'you,' Vaerlin states once again. However, the young mage realizes his warnings are lost on the adventurer. 'Abraxas,' Vaerlin says, turning his burning eyes to the dragon. 'Find a perch, and wait there.' Eyes glazed over in wonder, Melanor brushes his hands against the alarmingly cold portal. You say 'M..Mage...' With that, the lightning dragon quits it's perch atop Vaerlin's shoulders and alights upon a nearby boulder. He purrs an affectionate warning. You say 'We are about to thrust ourselves into the very source of all power.. all knowledge.' Vaerlin, in turn, approaches the portal himself, standing a few scant feet behind you. 'And, by all accounts, all pain,' Vaerlin mutters to himself. Perhaps he's rethinking his decision. Pressing his palms against the portal, Melanor staggers out a deep exhale. As Melanor presses his palms to the portal, A cold, haughty voice calls from the unknown. 'Mortal... Retracting his hands instinctively, Melanor shudders. Vaerlin retreats a step from the portal, assuming it was from the hellish depths the voice emerged. He brandishes his blackwood staff in preperation. Melanor speaks in a low whisper, unsure if the mage can even hear him. 'Unbelievable... Melanor turns to the mage, taking a step forward. 'Touch it. Melanor holds his head, as if he had a slight headache. Despite his palpable fear, Vaerlin approaches the gate, and places a hand upon its make. You say 'Do you feel it?' 'Cold,' Vaerlin responds, narrowing his eyes. 'The power is certainly beyond me to tap in to, but there is something there.' Vaerlin says 'Something.. alltogether primal.' The air around the portal begins to become thick, heavy, even carrying light tinges of a blood red. Melanor turns quickly, feeling the presence of something unseen. The peridot nestled in the crown of Vaerlin's staff hums, it's interior flaring to life. It appears their close proximity to the gateway is having some reaction. The night sky intensifies, blotting out even the moon and stars, shrouding the area in complete and total darkness. Melanor instinctively takes a step closer to the mage, his experience on the battlefield calling for him to regroup. A voice calls from everywhere, and yet nowhere all at once. 'Vaerlin. Melanor. Vaerlin quits his station beside the portal, his staff afire with mystic energies. Burning occulars are cast hither and thither in search of the creature whose attention they've garnered. A voice calls from everywhere, and yet nowhere all at once. 'You willingly come to the Rift? This is why I so enjoy humans... Vaerlin. Melanor. Tell me.. what is it you hope to gain, venturing into the very maw of demise? Melanor slowly steps forward, each step just as unsure as the last. You say 'Power. Knowledge. Everything there is to offer. I want it all!' The voice cackles in insane glee, forcing Melanor to take a step back. 'Do you hear that, Avarice? Vaerlin remains silent, almost passive. At least, that is the attempt, what lies behind those curious eyes betrays uncertainty. The voice seems to pass it's 'Gaze' from Melanor, towards Vaerlin. 'And what of you mage? What is it that you desire? Mustering some hidden reserve of poise and confidence, Vaerlin replies only with, 'To watch.' The voice chuckles, cold and raspy. 'Whats the matter? Melanor was willing to profess his intent. What do you fear? The voice chuckles, cold and raspy. 'Surely, you did not venture with Melanor simply to watch? 'That is precisely kny intention,' Vaerlin responds to the disembodied voice. 'Knowledge comes through observation. To be given something for free, without effort. I am wary of the cost.' The voice cackles, 'As I expected from you. Very well.' Melanor began to feel a tug at his soul, the dakness around him intensifying. 'You want it all, do you? Lost in his own lust, Melanor ignores the tug, stepping towards the portal. Melanor places his hands against the cold wall of the portal. As he does, energy erupts around the portal, shooting upwards into the sky. Vaerlin remains still, bolstered in his own show of willpower against the unseen creature's tempting offers. Melanor, however, seems not so steadfast - and so Vaerlin waits. Melanor runs his fingertips down the portal. As the energy intensifies, rings, much like the rings of cosmic bodies, begin to elipse the beam. Melanor seems not to notice the violent tinge to the energy, as it begins to expand, enveloping him down to his elbows. Abraxas, at a safe distance from the portal, yelps at the unseen creature, perhaps a warning to Vaerlin, or a display of its own discomfort. The voice speaks to Melanor once more, amused, 'That's it. Bask in the knowledge, in the power. The ground begins to shake violently, the rocks cracking and giving way to bursts of energy. The portal, as well as Melanor, become isolated by jagged rocks and violent energies. Vaerlin watches the events unfold with those eyes, as bright as the flaming perdit atop his staff. Vaerlin is thrown back by the archaic force, tumbling away from the portal. Abraxas takes flight as its chosen perch is lifted yards in to the air. Quite suddenly, the energy from both the ground, and the air around and above the portal begins to spin clockwise. Melanor slowly risies upwards, becoming centered in all of it. Vaerlin ducks to avoid the falling boulder, only to peer up a moment later. He despies it and Moleran both spinning above him. The energy surrounding Melanor slowly compacts inwards, as if being pulled towards the center point: Melanor. Not only this, but it seems to be drawn into his very skin. Vaerlin is momentarily taken aback by the display of power and unholy magics. However, the sense of duty pulls at the back of his brain, and Vaerlin frantically begins to search the spinning skies for his dragon companion. Abraxas purrs at Vaerlin, hidden betwix his legs, eveloped in the folds on his robes. Vaerlin struggled to rise, returning attentions to Moleran. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing emerges. Perhaps he thought better, or perhaps the strange environment has sucked the words in to the chaos that erupts around them. The energies swirl endlessly inwards, the unnatural darkness fading as it does. Melanor's bodies begins to convulse wildly, as if resisting some unseen torment. As the last of the energy is sucked into Melanor, he falls from the sky, landing at the foot of the gate, his armor breaking the rocks. As Melanor lands, blood spurts from beneath his armor, a tell-tale sign that the fall was too far. Despite the injury of his companion, Vaerlin remains still a moment longer. His eyes search over the offended flesh for signs of wounds. After a long pause, Melanor weakly raises his sword arm, sword still clutched in his hands. Melanor turns his blade downward, sticking it into the ground. Vaerlin breathes a heavy sigh, finding he had been holding his breath. He takes a step foreward as Moleran attempts to rise. Leaning on his sword, Melanor slowly rises to his feet, panting heavily. 'Your alive, then?' Vaerlin ventures. Melanor grimaces, slowly standing straight up. Taking slow, measured steps towards Vaerlin, Melanor places a hand on his shoulder, stopping to speak but for a moment before passing. The voice that comes is all too familiar, and yet, is far different than Melanor's. 'You never cease to amaze me You say 'This body.. It's even better than our last!' Vaerlin is shaken, literally and figuratively, by the contact from what once was Melanor. 'Interesting,' Vaerlin says in drawn-out tones. Melanor speaks in a cold, condescending voice. 'It seems he was willing to pay the price you refused to... back in Rheydin. Melanor speaks in a cold, condescending voice. 'I wonder if you remember? Melanor speaks in a cold, condescending voice. 'What's the matter? You look like you've seen a ghost. 'Pridel... truly fascinating.' Vaerlin shakes his head, eyes wide. You grin evilly. Vaerlin says 'So you've chosen a new host?' Melanor speaks in a cold, condescending voice. 'I am not so easily vanquished. That priest is in for a rude awakening. Melanor speaks in a maniacal, hungry voice. 'Can I eat him? Melanor speaks in a cold, condescending voice. 'Absolutely not. Vaerlin narrows his eyes, curiosity in their depths. But he remains silent, chosing instead to file away the information for a later date. 'And I assume the other six are with you.' Melanor speaks in a cold, condescending voice. 'The other Five. Melanor speaks in a cold, condescending voice. 'The sixth is the reason we lost our last host. The wench betrayed us to the priest. You grin evilly. Vaerlin says 'I see... Avarial, was it? Or that other one...' Melanor speaks in a cold, condescending voice. 'But this host... He already holds the temptation. We do not need her for this one.' Melanor speaks in a cold, condescending voice. 'We may have lost our hold on Lythe and Joltax. But this one.. He has willingly submitted. A perfect host. Melanor peers at Vaerlin. Melanor speaks in a cold, condescending voice. 'For bringing this host to me, you will be rewarded. Vaerlin seems to realize something, lost in the back of his mind. His lips tighten. 'Somehow, that frightens me more than Gular.' Melanor speaks in a cold, condescending voice. 'Your thirst for knowledge will be sated, for now. Melanor speaks in a cold, condescending voice. 'Ask. Vaerlin says 'You are a creatures of the rift. You are born form it, but I do not know if you have the answer to the questions that confound me. And yet...' Vaerlin says 'Do you know anything of these yochlols?' Melanor speaks in a cold, condescending voice. 'The servants of Lloth? 'The same,' Vaerlin confirms with a nod. Melanor speaks in a cold, condescending voice. 'We know of them, yes. Vaerlin says 'And the Spider Queen?' Melanor speaks in a cold, condescending voice. 'Lloth, though not as powerful as our Lord, spends a great deal of time in our realm. The Spider Queen uses her servants but very rarely Vaerlin says 'Then, as reward for delivering your vessel, I want to recieve whatever you have... in regards to knowledge of the Queen, her minions, and her plans.' Melanor speaks in a cold, condescending voice. 'The Spider Queen's origins remain a mystery. Some proclaim that she has always existed. Others proclaim she was once a Drow Queen, transformed by the very Chaos she wished to control. Melanor speaks in a cold, condescending voice. 'There are many legends, and you would be a fool to place much into any of them. Melanor speaks in a cold, condescending voice. 'Her minions are, obviously, the Drow. Also, she commands the spiders of this world. Spiders of all sizes. Also, she commands beings known as Driders. The peridot in his staff's craddle still hums and whistles, nigh bursting his arcane energies as Vaerlin listens to the now Six Rift-Walkers. Abraxas remains at a distance, though it keeps its eyes trained on the newly reformed creature. Melanor speaks in a cold, condescending voice. 'Driders are Drow, cursed by the Queen as punishment for misdeeds, or often, just because she wishes too. She does not rule with kindness. Melanor speaks in a cold, condescending voice. 'Some Driders serve the Spider Queen in an attempt to regain her favor, and regain their old bodies. Vaerlin says 'I have met such a creature. Aleena. She has told me much the same.' Melanor speaks in a cold, condescending voice. 'Some see her curse as a blessing, and blindly devote themselves to hers. Melanor speaks in a cold, condescending voice. 'Others have lost their will to Lloth, and serve her because she wills it. Melanor speaks in a cold, condescending voice. 'As for her plans... In the past it has been the extermination of the Elves. This time however, while I am uncertain of exactly what she is planning.. I feel it is much grander. Vaerlin nods his head in understanding, deigning to meet Moleran's eyes wit his own. Whatever was there before, has quite decidedly been lost. Melanor speaks in a cold, condescending voice. 'In the past, I did not pay her any mind. her schemes were her own. Now, curiousity has me wishing I did. Unfortunately, like the Drow, her schemes are made centuries before they ever take place, and I have little choice but to watch them unfold. 'Then I have another request,' Vaerlin says, finding some measure of steel with which to face the creatures. Melanor speaks in a cold, condescending voice. 'Ask. Vaerlin clears his throat, saying, 'Your curiosity, and your nature... I can't help but assume your path lies in tandem with whatever the Queen plans for the overworld.' Vaerlin says 'As I have helped to deliver this vessel you will use to travel the lands....' Vaerlin says 'I ask you provide me with whatever knowledge you may come across.' Melanor speaks in a cold, condescending voice. 'At my discretion. I will not reveal everything to a mortal. Vaerlin says 'Then I wish to be the first mortal to know.' Melanor speaks in a cold, condescending voice. 'Whatever she has planned, I venture to say that all mortals will find out soon enough. Melanor speaks in a cold, condescending voice. 'I have no desire but to watch it unfold. A little chaos does the world a lot of good. You cackle gleefully. 'This may be so,' Vaerlin replies, 'But the bits and pieces are strawn about the lands like starstone. You may wish to give up knowledge you accrue, or not - but the knowledge you come across, that which you decide to share... Vaerlin says 'It should be mine.' Melanor places an icy hand on Vaerlin's shoulder. Vaerlin fights back the urge to flinch, succeeding in so far as his body doesn't move. His mind, however, reeles with the reality of the situation. Melanor speaks in a cold, condescending voice. 'Chaos is coming, mage. This world will be consumed by it, ravaged, razed to the ground. Vaerlin nods his head, 'The signs are abound, but there are forces at work to repel it. But neither is any concern of mine.' Melanor speaks in a cold, condescending voice. 'I wonder how long you will survive, when the very walls of reason, the sanctity of order, perish from this world. Vaerlin says 'Order I can live without - years I've spent in the nothingness of my own mind. Reason, though...' Melanor speaks in a cold, condescending voice. 'Any effort to repel the chaos will fail. We will be satisfied. Vaerlin says 'All the more reason I should arm myelf with the information required to weather the coming storm.' Melanor speaks in a cold, condescending voice. 'You may not be entirely human, spirit. However, you share that same resiliant nature that We so enjoy. 'Hopefully,' Vaerlin says, with a tone of dark humor, 'you will keep you well enough entertained to stave off taking over this body of mine.' You chuckle politely. Melanor speaks in a cold, condescending voice. 'You are an interesting one, indeed. I'll be watching you... Vaerlin only nods, 'Pridel, Gular, Rathus... and the other three I'm not sure off... I shall be watching as well. It's what I do.' Vaerlin says 'Two, rather.' Vaerlin says 'Three? Right, math was not my area of expertise.' Melanor speaks in a cold, condescending voice. 'There are three others. Avarial, Ira and Seloth. Melanor speaks in a cold, condescending voice. 'Mortals have given us other names over time, however. Vaerlin says 'Then to Avarial, Iral and Seloth as well, know that my eyes are keen.' Melanor speaks in a cold, condescending voice. 'Farewell for now, Mage. Vaerlin steps back, delivering a bow toward the shell that once was Melanor. Melanor abruptly turns, heading off into the mountains. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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