• Event • 2. Down Beneath [AoQ Event Part One | Mature]

[Vito Rossau]

66 YMIDEN, 720
CITADEL IN GLEAM

Vito’s head slammed forward against the cold, stone wall, and in favor of catching himself from the fall, he held on tightly to the relic in his arms. With a quiet, pained huff, he fell back and landed on the floor. The hurt was manageable, as was whatever embarrassment might have come from his fall if only there had been more around to see it, but the time he could have wasted – the time he was still wasting now, it was unacceptable. He sat up with another call for his mentor’s attention, his low voice only slightly strained in the attempt.

Blessed was he, for it was not long after that the new captain strode through the double doors to find him. Red light was let in from the other room to illuminate the Tribunal’s bewildered features, and he watched in a return to silence as Woe approached. Clinging to the covered relic like a child to a doll, Vito’s red eyes were wild as they regarded the older mage. What was he doing, falling to his knees before the congregation? Had something happened in his absence?

Yet the captain pulled himself together soon enough… or at least, he seemed to. Woe found his feet and neared the fallen Tribunal, who took his hand with just a moment’s hesitation. Vito glanced him over in the light that remained, as he found his own composure once again, strands of dark hair falling over his normally-uncovered face.

“There is an exit,” he murmured, “a better way. Come.”

The Tribunal took a breath and looked back to the gathered congregation and soldiers. Vito raised his chin in a return to his proper, calm state, and nodded to his fellow priests. It looked as if the crowd had formed ranks under Woe’s guidance.

“Everyone, stay calm,” Vito’s low voice sounded as he turned to lead the way back through the darkness, to the Herald’s office. “Stay in your formations, walk quickly. There is no need to panic.”

With a glance back at Woe, Vito continued through the hall, careful this time not to trip over his own feet or to hit any walls in his path. As he rounded the corner, he looked towards the closed office door, and headed towards it.

“Once we’re inside, remember to stay as quiet as you can, and listen to myself and to Captain Morandi. Captain,” the biqaj opened the door, and motioned with his free hand for one of the mage's soldiers to hold it open for them all. He waited until his mentor was close, and then dropped his voice to a whisper, “I will lead them through, if you will ensure that this door, and the wall, are closed behind.”

[Woe]

The sorrow was overpowering at times, but with the diri's proximity, much of it was alleviated. Breen even took to weaving in and out of the formation of the civilians, absorbing even more sorrow that was on ambient flow through their ranks. It might give rise to other emotions, but when Woe perceived that somebody was going to start panicking, he hemmed in their sense of anxiety.

Woe quickly nodded to Vito, "Then go go! Lead them through and... do you have a torch or lantern of some kind? Anyway, I'll be right behind you, once they're all through."

So saying, Woe looked into the faces of each of the civilians that passed. Each of them, he strummed a sense of hope and comfort to the ones who hadn't been caught in his nexus of sorrow. That was around ninety of the citizens that he strummed hope in, foursome by foursome as they filed into the passage behind Vito. He didn't want to hem in their fear entirely, as that could backfire, and he didn't know if he had the energy for all of that.

Once they were all in, including the bloodhound and Breen, and the rest of the soldiers, Woe would enter behind them, and shut the way behind. He sighed, as he turned around into the darkened passage, activating his Omnivision as he faced the way ahead, and maintaining his frequency on his initiate.

Spell Usage

Woe used strum (novice technique) 90 times here, four at a time (expert meditation and discipline) inspiring hope and dimming their anxiety. He used Hem and omnivision once each, two competent techniques.

[Strange]

Vito ran like his life depended on it... though in truth, the lives of a hundred and more depended on it. As he left the Dragoon, two Tribunals, child, and bloodhound behind, he managed his way through the dark halls of the church basement. He called for his spark-mentor, unaware that his frequency had done much the same for the other more experienced mage.

As it was, though, Woe calmed the congregation through use of his magic, and the help of his unseen diri companion. It didn't go unnoticed by some of the Quacians, however, that the Captain leading them had turned away. But no one said anything of it.

Through the dark, Vito hit into one of the walls through accidental imbalance to such sudden running. He kept hold of the relic, and managed to keep it safe during the fall. He quickly relayed the information to the other man with such certainty that what he had found was a better way.

They turned and started back for the Herald's Office. As Vito walked in the lead, he felt a distinct soreness on his forehead and on his hip where large bruises would eventually rise. As they walked, there was a distinct lessening of the noise from above in the nave. By the time they reached the office, it was all but silent.

Sniffles, whispered prayers, and shuffled feet were the only noises from the congregation. In the hallway where they came from, even more smoke started to drift through the halls. A mist of smoke that settled through the dark, but got closed off by the hall door that led into the space where the Herald's Office was located. Some of the citizens coughed from the smoke though.

No more crying though, and no outbursts of any sort as Woe kept a close eye on the tangles of the congregation. As Woe had strummed their hope and comfort, it worked perfectly or seemingly, as it was just enough to keep the children obedient with trust for those few adults leading them.

Once they were all in, including the bloodhound and Breen, and the rest of the soldiers, Woe entered behind the congregation. He shut the door to the Herald's Office, and then...

...tried to figure out how to close the stone wall. It took some help from one of the soldiers to actually jimmy the trick door so that it got unfixed from the locked position open. Once it did, it swung shut with a loud WHOOSH of air that brought up the dust that clung to the old large stones that made up the tunnel's floor.

The wall sealed shut, with no handle or lever to allow opening it from inside.

Off Topic

Woe Skill Check:
Detection - 26 (Competent)

In the last hints of scarlet light, Woe noticed smears of bloody handprints on the spot where the door sealed flush the stone wall.

Once the door shut, the tunnel turned pitch black without a single source of light anywhere as no one had lit any torches or the like.

What Woe got to see was sudden stumbling, and citizens bumping into each other, while they lost understanding of their surroundings. A few children bumped into the dirt and stone walls, and even a soldier did (who quickly looked around in the dark to make sure no one else had noticed that mishap). With his Omnivision, Woe even saw a pair of Tribunals move closer and hold hands tightly beneath the long sleeves of their robes.

Beyond all this shadowed display of humanity, was the frequency of Vito leading them.

Of course, Vito realized soon that he couldn't see anything - once the door had slammed shut. There had been quite a lot of dim light when the wall had been open, the dull crimson and a brighter hue than even the Office as there was something lined through the ceiling and walls that reflected to make the space illuminate with the faintest of light.

Off Topic

Vito Skill Check:
Detection - 5 (Novice)

Vito might have decided to stop or slow, or inform the congregation to pause for a moment, but once he did...

...the stone underneath his foot sunk down a couple inches.

...a loud clicking sound echoed within the tunnel. Like a ticking almost...

The floor rumbled, the walls shook. Dirt and cobwebs fell down from the corners. One of the children screamed in a sharp cry, not from fear, but because a rock came loose from the ceiling and hit her hard enough that she crumpled to the ground under it. Woe saw six more stones come loose, with his Omnivision, as they sped down toward citizens in each path. Two of them went down immediately, crushed under the stone slabs.

The other, non-sacrificed pregnant woman suddenly went up against one of the walls and started to sob in loud prayers to the Wounded God in slurred Vahanic while she chanted through her sobs. Woe felt the sudden spike of a thread of abrupt hysteria.

In response, a few tangles from the soldiers and Tribunals sharpened with increased doubt and anxiety. A particular note almost forced its way through into Woe's open channels of ether, someone unknown in the congregation was terribly claustrophobic and it was causing a great deal of anguish in both their tangle and their frequency.

The bloodhound next to Tribunal Noam started to whine and struggle out of his grip, with barks. He broke free from the Tribunal's grip, just as Chuchu also pulled away from Noam's hand. Tribunal Noam squeaked with the sudden realization of both his hands empty as his two wards broke away. He weakly said, "T-tribunal Vi-vito?"

Chuchu headed forward, in blind search for wherever Vito had gone.

Underneath Vito's foot, he felt a growing warmth where the clicking originated from in the sunken stone.

The bloodhound sprinted forward, making a ton of noise as he barked and howled while he galloped past Vito and led forward through the tunnel as if a leader riding first into battle.

The sound of silvery bells echoed from ahead in the tunnel, as if some string of bells like on a shopkeeper's door had gotten rung. Through the pitch darkness, Vito could see... silhouettes. Human? Human-shaped. Bipedal... except for the one on the right of the trio. Or was it five? Nine of them? Difficult to tell as the darker-than-darkness shadows flitted and blurred while they approached.

Through the tunnel, the temperature dropped all of a sudden to the level of frost, chilling all to the bone even if they wore layers of clothes.

Beneath the sounds of the congregation, low chanting could be heard and a deeper resonant bell tolled. The chants were in a language both unknown and yet reminiscent at the same time. The voices did not match the distance that the silhouettes were at, and the tunnel remained pitch dark with no sources of light... except whatever looked back at Vito.

!

Message from: Strange

1-2 Rock Hits; 3-4 Rock Doesn't Hit. @Strange: 1d4 = (1) = 1 1-2 Two Rocks Hit; 3-4 Three Rocks Hit; 5-6 Four Rocks Hit @Strange: 1d6 = (4) = 4 Updated NPC Count: 98 citizens alive / 2 dead. 1 Child known as Chuchu, with Tribunal Noam. 10 Tribunals under Vito's Command (all alive). 8 Soldiers on Woe's Faction (all alive). 1 Grizzled Veteran known as Dragoon Saws (halbred). Sergeant Bellistiero (crossbow/sword) 1 Bloodhound Dog, wrangled by Tribunal Noam. Attached is the same map of the basement. The "S" doors are definitely locked doors.

Basement Map

JUST KIDDING JUST KIDDING

That's a placeholder image. Ya'll can't see anything.

[Vito Rossau]

66 YMIDEN, 720
CITADEL IN GLEAM

The wall closed behind them, and darkness sealed them in.

Tribunal Vito slipped through the formed ranks of soldiers and citizens, holding still to the relic wrapped in velvet. He maintained what calm he could within himself, in spite of what anxiety resided and grew within his chest as he walked through the cold darkness of the hidden passage. No matter what happened above them, no matter what happened here and now – his congregation needed a guide through it all. For that reason alone, the biqaj refused to hesitate.

He continued without care for the dark. In it, his eyes could not be seen, though they had glinted in a cool-toned cyan when the light gave way behind them. His free hand was pushed back through his hair to calm the recent mess of dark strands. The stone beneath his feet began to shift... Vito’s gaze snapped up to the ceiling when he felt a rumbling in the space above them, too… and though he could not see, he could hear the panicked, pained shouts of those both hit and missed by the onslaught of heavy stone.

The scarlet priest turned, but there was nothing to observe. No candles to illuminate the scene of what had happened, no lanterns or bloodlights to show them the way. How many people had been injured? How many were caught beneath the rocks? There was nothing to be done for them, he decided; there was simply nothing to be done. So he said a quiet prayer, and he turned back around. With no light, there was nothing else that he could do…

...unless…

...the red that ran along the ceiling and the walls, that had seemed brighter from the light of the Office. Whether it was usable bloodlight or not, Vito did not know. But it was the only thing he had to try. The people he led were crying and scared, and he knew not how many of them had already succumbed to the fallen rocks – they needed a way to see through the dark.

Before the Tribunal could put much more thought into the idea, however, a few things happened.

The bloodhound broke free from Tribunal Noam’s grip. Again, the creature barreled past him, in a manner that nearly swept him off his feet. Following the insolent dog’s disruption, Chuchu pulled from Noam’s watch as well, and Vito felt the child run directly into the back of him at the same time that the ground began to warm beneath his foot. He held steady where he was, and reached back to grab onto the child without bothering to look… because his gaze was focused forward on the figures up ahead.

Who… were they? What three – or… five? No…

However many there were, Vito could not see them well enough to tell who (or what) they were. He kept Chuchu behind him, and though he was hesitant beyond words to do so, he slowly, carefully transferred the wrapped chalice back to the child. “Careful,” he whispered.

The low chanting served not to disturb the scarlet priest, in spite of the language unknown. In fact, it only bolstered his faith.

“Hold,” he addressed the congregation, before his voice was lowered once again to say to Chuchu, “stay right where you are. Do not move. Repeat after me...”

Again, he began to pray. Despite the difference in language, Vito catered the prayer to follow the rhythm of the chanting below. Slow enough to move without taking his eyes off of the impossibly dark silhouettes up ahead, the biqaj reached out to grab onto the nearest citizen – one with empty hands. Vito moved back to Chuchu to stand before them again, pulling the other along with him.

From his robes, he retrieved the sacrificial knife that he had taken from the altar, concealed in the cold darkness.

Vito slashed the blade across in sacrifice and kept his crimson eyes trained on the approaching silhouettes.

OOC

Vito is standing in front of Chuchu (who he gave the blood chalice to), and is currently holding the sacrifice in front of him almost like a shield.

[Woe]

The basement was dark and more cramped than he had expected. Where did it lead? Cities, particularly very ancient ones, were built upon the bones of prior eons. The fact that there was a level leading beneath the church was no surprise in itself. What was a surprise, however, was the sound of... what was it, bells?

Woe gave thought to bring light to this situation but wasn't certain. He'd never been more uncertain about what he should do, than now, and that was saying something. Even so, people were panicking, fearful of the dark and claustrophobic. He sighed, then tucked his fire-warded gauntlet into the side-sleeve that contained his faldrunium whip. There, he began wrapping it's coils around the gauntlet, until it formed a sort of chain knuckles. He finished the wrap by grasping the handle in his hand, and the end of the coil with the same. Then, he lifted it above the congregation, granting light.

His bastard sword was still held in his left hand, which was his sword hand. He was ready to defend if need be, but his first inclination was to negotiate. When he saw whatever figures haunted the passage ahead, he came forward through the crowd. He spoke to the congregation, "Let me through!"

Should the crowd calm down from the sudden light, and let him pass, he would make it to Vito, watching as the young priest drained the blood from the poor child. Ah well, nothing to be done, and perhaps these specters in the dark would be entranced by such a display.

Woe had no intention of remaining silent through this, however. He spoke to the specters, presuming them to be necromantic constructs or some such. "We are all Quacians, and the Creep is the enemy. Come to our side shades, will you fight among us against the common enemy?"

[Strange]

Vito led the best he could, as calmly as one might expect of a poor, poor Tribunal shunted into the role of Herald with little reason but the emergency of wartime.

As the bloodhound ran forward into the darkness towards the silhouettes that approached, Chuchu ran into Vito with a whimpered cry of fear. The child held close, when Vito placed a hand in assurance that he was there. The velvet-wrapped chalice was handed to Chuchu, who took it with some confusion obvious in the quiet sound made as a response.

The congregation came to a stop, for those who had not already stopped, when Vito addressed them.

Following the instructions, Chuchu prayed like Vito said to. Little sniffles broke through, and the threads wavered among the crowd while the Empathy held for a little longer but started to wear away on some of the people more affected by the darkness and the frigid cold and the claustrophobic tunnel and the rumbling that kept happening above them.

The citizen grabbed by Vito was of a taller height, perhaps older, but difficult to see in the dark. Regardless, they followed the Tribunal's guidance quietly. Whoever they were, they stumbled slightly, and when the blade slashed across their throat, they fell weak from the sudden blood loss. Limp against Vito's arms, they went unconscious. The blood landed in sprays over the tunnel floor and walls. Even some on the ceiling with the arch of the dagger.

The low chanting droned under everything.

Some of the citizens started to shiver, their teeth chattered, from the cold.

A light glowed through the tunnel, reflected off the walls, but it was not from the newly spilt blood... but from the coiled faldrunium whip that Woe held up in his approach. The congregation easily parted for him, and stared at him with what he could feel was immense hope. The same hope he'd strummed in them. Such hadn't gone away, only that everything else had become so heightened by the frightening and unknown environment of the tunnel that the differences weren't as pronounced anymore.

The silhouettes drew closer while Woe reached Vito's side. The only light between the two of them cast a warm glow over the dying sacrifice. Chuchu gasped at the sight, then stepped backward with stammered prayer and held tight to the wrapped chalice. Ahead, the bloodhound had started to run in circles and snapped at the shadows with its slobbering jaws.

"We are all Quacians, and the Creep is the enemy. Come to our side shades, will you fight among us against the common enemy?"

The chanting continued and it sounded as if it passed the two Empaths right by, continuing behind to drift over the congregation.

It seemed Woe was talking to nothing but thin air... and that Vito had drained the life from a young citizen for no reason...

Off Topic

Skill Check:
Vito:
Discipline - 30 Competent
Meditation - 0 Unranked

Woe:
Discipline - 79 Expert
Meditation - 80 Expert

...until laughter bubbled up from the shadows. Shrieking, shrill, and echoed so loud that the tunnel rumbled.

"How many to feed on, how many, more than enough. You taunt, Herald, you taunt..." said a voice, warped by an existence other than a mortal one.

From the wall, a robed figure stepped out of the shadows and into the warm glow of the Faldrunium's light. A woman, it seemed, but only by the barest notion of such a thing. Long pale red hair hung around a gaunt face with hollowed eyes, and her lips bled. Not painted red, not rosy with blush, but blood seeped to the shapely flesh and trickled over her chin and onto the ground in front of her.

A shuffled sound like breaths overlapped echoed from the opposite side of the tunnel. A pair of figures stepped out together, shrouded by the dark Theocratum robes they wore. Only they were not the robes like the ones that Vito or his fellows wore, but of an older and far more ancient style of dress. From behind their opaque hoods, their voices hissed past the whistle of abused vocal chords.

"What is happening up there? The Creep you said? What is the Creep?" asked one of the pair.

"Mayhaps they mean Quod Disserpum, brother. You mustn’t let them in. You must not." returned the other.

"You’re next," said a third unseen from behind them... the voice originated as if from the congregation itself.

The silhouettes stopped, now, and came into view. Garbed in red and black, they clearly had some sort of ties to the Theocratum. Yet their fashions varied, decades of small details that changed over time to keep with the fashions of Quacia as it recovered from the Cataclysm. Vito would recognize most as Heralds, however.

"Here’s a sinner," said a deep voice while one of the taller shadows approached to look down at Woe with beady, but bright red eyes that burned in the shadows that stuck around his hood. "Oh yes, a right heretic. A liar calling himself Quacian. What are you doing with his kind, young Herald?"

"Burn him," hissed a short, plump figure who hid behind a cowl and held a staff of burnished metal. It poked the staff toward Woe. "Burn him! And him! And her! And them. Burn them! Burn them all!"

While the plump Herald broke into maniacal laughter, and others joined in...

...a thin lady approached and asked Vito with eyes so wide that she almost seemed innocent, "Is that pipsqueak meant to be the sacrifice?"

Her head drifted to the side, then fell limp in a swift snap while she peered at Vito curiously. She didn't bother lifting it again.

"My, I can hardly remember the last time we had so many visitors," returned the first voice as the red-head woman had started to stalk among the congregation. Most of the citizens had gone motionless, other than their shivering and chattering from the cold, while they stared at what was happening. "Look at how many young he brought too. Like little snacks, they are."

"Where do you think you are going?" inquired the tall shadow with the burning red eyes. "Do you think it is somewhere safe? You'll die there, too."

"Sacrifice. Bleed for passage. Lest they feed on you all," warned a quiet voice directly behind Vito and Woe. "Let us in. We can show you how... It'll only take a moment..."

Vito felt a hand on the back of his neck, corpse-cold fingers that drifted up to run through his dark hair, and then... then he felt he was not alone. Something odd to say when he was already followed by a hundred or more of his fellow Quacians. Something Someone was inside of Vito. He could feel it in every possible way, as the ghost entered him and started to spread through his mind and thus his body.

Woe felt a brush of a hand at the back of his neck, but it retreated soon after. A low hiss resulted, like a cat noticing another in its territory, and the other ghost snapped, "You bring another... another..."

The red-head woman started to lead a couple of the children away from the congregation, her hands tight around their wrists while they stared in shocked horror at her gaunt and hollowed face.

But the bloodhound bayed and ran forward to try and get in the way, prancing about with its ears flopping, while it broke the hold on the children.

Chuchu shut their eyes, and hugged the wrapped chalice tight, and tried to continue the prayer that Vito had instructed to repeat. The shrouded brothers from before, however, approached on either side of the child and started to guide the youth backward toward the wall.

!

Message from: Strange

Hello, Vito, you are now possessed by a ghost. You can either RESIST this possession, or you can ACCEPT this possession. Please note which you choose in your next post and you can assume that Vito still maintains his senses and his functions for now. Woe, you were almost possessed by a ghost but the presence of Emma Heen and his discipline/meditation levels averted it. Have fun, there are no wrong answers! only possible death. Updated NPC Count: 95 citizens alive / 5 dead. 1 Child known as Chuchu. 10 Tribunals under Vito's Command (all alive). 8 Soldiers on Woe's Faction (all alive). 1 Grizzled Veteran known as Dragoon Saws (halbred). Sergeant Bellistiero (crossbow/sword) 1 Bloodhound Dog.

[Vito Rossau]

66 YMIDEN, 720
CITADEL IN GLEAM

Laughter, loud and shrill, pierced through the cold air. Vito held to the knife and to the lifeless body of the citizen he had grabbed, unwavering in his focus. He was certain, from the way it spattered on his face, that he had gotten blood all across the tunnel… and yet the only light came from his mentor’s faldrunium whip. Had he been wrong? Had the scarlet veins through the walls been nothing more than decoration?

The Tribunal hardly had the time to wallow in his disappointment. A woman – or some otherworldly approximation of one – emerged from the wall, and the biqaj let go of his most recent sacrifice in surprise. The body crumpled to the ground in front of him, forgotten.

How many to feed on… voices carried through the dimly-lit passageway, from directions impossible and registries unknown, while more robed figures continued to emerge all around them. It occurred to him then that he should have been scared; he should have been terrified in the dark. The blood-stained, sickly-thin appearances of those who approached should have been more than enough to make the scarlet priest turn around. But as he stood there, frozen still, and watched… he continued his prayers beneath his breath.

Even as the silhouettes neared, Vito prayed. His low voice prayed not for guidance, nor assistance, not even for protection. Instead, while his scarlet gaze swept over the varying robes the inhuman beings wore, he whispered words of praise… of the utmost of his devotion. His faith had been tested before, in arcs passed. He was tested again now, he was sure, as no other possibilities made sense to him. Fear was not an obstacle to overcome, but a welcome reminder of all the things their Wounded God had not allowed to happen yet.

So Vito was afraid. More than he had ever been before, as he felt his heart race within his chest and his stomach start to churn with the waves of his anxiety. He might have even trembled, if only so much of his form had not been covered in yet another variation of a scarlet priest’s garb. His breath caught in his throat as the tall, looming vision of a Herald threatened Woe; as the tiny specter of a woman spoke to him and snapped her thin, pale neck.

They spoke of him as if he had brought the congregation for a purpose; as if he had guided them down for… for the slaughter that would surely ensue.

Herald Vatia had to have known. The tunnel, the chalice, the office – everything he had said, everything he had done with placing the young biqaj in charge… he had done it with the knowledge that Vito would listen. That he would follow the Herald’s guidance as he had always done, that he would go for the prized, sacred relic, that he would lead his people into the depths. He had known. And he had still left them there, in Gleam, rather than falling back to the Fortress where they should have been all along.

Vito’s eyes flashed a bright green-blue when he felt the coldest of touches to his neck. It was his immediate reaction to jerk away from it, but the bewildered Tribunal relaxed just as quickly as he had tensed. His irises returned to a darker hue in a slow swirl of red. In spite of the rapid pace of his heart, and the difficulties of his lungs, he did not further lean away from the fingers on his skin. Sacrifice, bleed, he would do anything he needed, but – he did not understand, and why was –

– as the touch continued to run through his hair, Tribunal Vito tightened his grip on the sacrificial blade. There was little he could do to help himself as he began to hyperventilate beside his mentor, wide-eyed and postured almost defensively… and still, he continued his prayers, underneath all else.

Let us in.

We can show you how…

And now they resided within him.

The biqaj kept blinking, as if there was something caught in his eye that he could not quite get out, but his breaths began to calm. Vito turned, or more accurately – he jerked to the side, in a wild, almost shocked glance at Chuchu near the wall. He saw so much of himself within the child, even cowering there, as they were. How quickly, it seemed, that he had grown, and for a trill Vito wondered how he had wound up there at all. He wondered, for the first time, if his parents had felt anything similar when they had looked upon him. He wondered what they had looked like; if he would have seen himself in them too. He wondered what they would have done in his position.

“Chuchu,” the name finally broke through the fountain of prayers that spewed from his mouth.

Vito stepped away from Woe’s side. Towards the wall, where two hooded Heralds encroached on the child’s space, the priest walked forward until he stopped in front of Chuchu. He reached out to pull the child closer, in an embrace that forgot the rest of his congregation, and he held their head to his chest.

“Blessed is he who bleeds,” he whispered, “remember, child, and repeat.”

OOC

Vito has fully accepted the possession. He is still holding the sacrificial blade.

[Woe]

No way out, and no way through. Woe as at an impasse, and as the creatures, what he thought were mages began speaking, he had no words for them. He could tell readily enough their words were meant to toy with them. And while that could buy him time here, TIme was short. Immortals above knew whatever was going on with Balthazar, and the creep. They didn't have his portals at hand to effect an escape here. Perhaps setting up a defensive bulwark had been a mistkae?

Nevermind that, Woe had what he had right now, and that was what appeared to be a handful of highly mutated and powerful necromancers. Woe was an abrogator, but nowhere near powerful enough to resist their magics.

Then the voice came... you brought another, another...

He recognized the ethereal tone of voice. Or he thought he did. Was it a ghost that had tried to possess him. He looked to Vito, to try and detect signs that he'd been hijacked. They whispered promises, that the way would be cleared by sacrifice. Well, Woe thought he knew from experience that a ghost possessing a body couldn't hurt itself... but it could hurt another. If Vito and he were possessed at the same time, they could very well end each other on their blades.

Woe had to think fast, and he couldn't afford delays. In the end, he opted for fatalism. Flipping a coin, simple as that. He thought to Emma Heen, Go back to the Beneath now. I will be alright." Emma thought to protest, but in the end did as she was told.

"Perhaps we'll meet again soon, after you refuse judgment, Woesy... Catch you later..."

So Emma returned to the Beneath, leaving Woe alone, for the moment. Woe whispered under his breath, "Whatever you mean to do, now is the time..." Thus he let the ghost in, consigning his destiny to fate.

[Strange]

No need to be afraid. You are not alone. I am here, now.

The voice echoed in Vito's mind as the ghost entered him. It held a soft quality to it, or simply quiet and demure, slightly higher pitch but not quite feminine. Through the Tribunal's body, the possession took perfectly without struggle. Vito turned toward the child who was brought toward the wall by the hooded Heralds of a time long since past.

As Vito approached Chuchu, the brothers stepped back with quiet murmured prayers from the shadows that obscured their faces from view. They vanished, as if nothing more than shadows all along.

There is much for you to learn, Vito Rossau.

Chuchu trembled, prayers jumbled though the child tried to continue them like Vito had instructed to. While Vito pulled the child closer, tears fell over Chuchu's round face in heavy droplets.

"B-blessed is h-he who b-bleeds," stuttered the child in Vahanic, then repeated like told. Chuchu held tight to the wrapped chalice. "B-b-bles-s-sed is h-he w-hwho ble- e- e-eds."



Ever quick to adapt to the situation at hand, Woe made a calculated choice. He dismissed Emma Heen to the Beneath... and accepted possession of one of the many, many ghosts that surrounded them.

Thus, Woe felt something he likely never felt before... something few people ever felt...

...multiple ghosts attempted to possess him at once. Inside of him, a flurry of sudden conflict broke out. He heard the unique and unusual sound of ghosts warring with one another - an ethereal shrieking, and syphoned ectoplasm as some were completely devoured by others. While Vito settled into his singular possession, Woe experienced this battle for his body in a way that he could only wait for it to stop.

Until finally, only one ghost remained.

Empowered by the recent syphons and the destruction of the other ghosts, Woe felt the spectral presence adjust to his body. Familiar enough with a creature like Emma Heen, the attuner could feel as much that the ghost who possessed him was of female alignment. She moaned quietly, using his mouth to do so. The ghost sheathed the sword, then ran her (their) hand over the shape of Woe's body to figure it out.



Meanwhile, as Woe's ghost proceeded to use the victory to feel and touch and explore the mage's body and armor and weapons...

...Vito gradually felt his hands move; like someone had slipped themselves inside his limbs, as if his flesh and bones were mere gloves. Behind him, a few of the other creatures had approached to stand near. The tall Herald loomed over Vito, eyes bright in observance. The snapped-neck lady gingerly reached out, as if she wanted to touch Vito's hair, but she didn't quite do so. Her touch hovered, just a little bit away from the dark strands.

Vito felt his grip on the sacrificial blade tighten. He (they) pressed Chuchu out of the hug, and to the wall. In the congregation, some of the citizens broke and started to sob and lament. They got on their knees, to pray together. A few even drew their own knives and started to cut so as to bleed in a last offering to their Wounded God. Fresh blood dappled and covered the old, stained stones of the tunnel floor.

The high-pitched shrill laughter echoed again, then turned to mad screams as if to drown out the prayers.

Do not listen, Vito Rossau. Speak these words as I guide...

Vito heard a litany recited, one he'd never heard or read before, and he could not stop himself from saying each verse, in each language between the ancient one he did not know, the native Vahanic he knew perfectly, and the common he was still learning:

Per transitus mortuorum,
Et aperti sunt Dominationis tuae ad cor meum,
Pone me nudus tota
Et venas latens nutriat quae Copia uocatur,
Vt Expergiscere:
O vulnerati de Domino,
O salutaris honoratus:
Quaeso, miserere dona nobis omnibus.

Através da passagem dos mortos,
Venho a Vossa Senhoria com o coração aberto,
Desnude-me e tome-me inteiro,
Deixe minhas veias nutrirem Plenty,
Para que você possa Despertar,
Oh, Senhor Ferido,
Oh, Honrado Salvador,
Por favor, conceda misericórdia a todos nós.

Through the passage of the dead,
I come to Your Lordship with open heart,
Lay me bare and take me whole,
Let my veins nourish Plenty,
So that you might Awaken,
Oh, Wounded Lord,
Oh, Honored Savior,
Please, grant mercy to us all.

As Vito recited these words, the ghost guided through his motions. The Tribunal took the wrapped chalice from the crying child. Undoing the velvet, he took it out of its protective cover. The gems glinted in the low Faldrunium-glow light.

Vito stayed on his knees, while the ghoulish figures surrounded him to watch. He rolled up his long sleeve, to reveal the rippled and scarred skin.

Then Vito cut a deep slash through his inner forearm. Silver biqaj blood bubbled outward, filling the chalice... and still, he continued to speak the words. The chalice filled to the brim, then overflowed. The gems along the silver metal glowed red... red... and then the gems turned silver in color.

"You'll be one of us, Herald... soon," said the tall Herald before he vanished to the shadows. Along with him, the other figures all vanished as well.

Vito stood, wound still bleeding, overfilled chalice in hand... and he started to walk. One step in front of the other, the ghost controlled him to make the walk as strong as possible - if not a bit awkward in balance due to the inherent disconnect of the ghost within a new body.

Forward, through the tunnel, the lined lights reacted to the chalice's gems. The entire tunnel lit up, first red and then faded to a silver that matched the hues of Vito's blood.



Woe felt the ghost within him move to follow. Far more fluid, far more attached to the mage's body already, while they walked, she shared memories with Woe. Memories from a time long before the arc they resided in. From a Quacia of an early Theocratum...

...And as Vito walked, the same memories played in the forefront of his mind's eye while the ghosts took control not only of the two men, but of the entire congregation as they led the citizens further down the path....



Two sisters, both of long raven-black hair, stood in the Herald's office while the wall turned to open. They had been here before. Many times. But never had they seen this before.

"Where do you think it goes?" asked the blue-eyed sister, adorned in gold and ruby beads twisted through her hair. Eve - that was her name, and she was neither older nor younger by any meaningful time than her twin who stood beside her.

"I don't think we should be here..." replied the dark-eyed sister, plain by comparison with a single necklace with a Theocratic amulet that hung from the chain. Zoe - that was her name - held onto it while she peered through the glint of light on the stones.

"It looks new, or clean. Someone takes care of it," said Eve while she ventured further inside the tunnel. She tapped her foot against the stones, wary of any traps. Her dark cloak billowed behind her. "There's a draft coming from up ahead, it must be open."

"Eve... I really don't think we should be here. What if Father catches us? He said to only get the scroll for tonight's prayer..." Despite her reluctance, Zoe followed her sister into the tunnel. She stayed a few steps behind. For though she spoke with reason, Zoe could not deny her own interest in finding out where the tunnel led.

"Why would he just leave this open, if he didn't want us to see it?" returned Eve. "Maybe he wants us to know where it goes?"

"Perhaps..." Zoe couldn't deny that sometimes the Herald had unusual ways of teaching them the ways of the Theocratum. She fidgeted with her amulet. A whisper brushed past her, from behind. She turned around and asked, "Did you hear that?"

"It's only Stone-Echoes. Like down in Shanty," returned Eve. "No need to be afraid, sister."

Zoe moved to walk closer with Eve. She murmured a simple prayer to the Wounded God. The sound of stone scraping against stone, then the way they came fell shut. Both sisters turned to look, and in its place, a tall Herald stood. A familiar one, for both Woe and Vito had seen him with his eyes of red. And his eyes glinted red in the memory as well, but not so much. For he was only biqaj, and the color in his eyes shifted while he approached the sisters.

"Father Mikhah, we were only... the door was open," offered Zoe in a weak voice.

"What is said of inquiring ladies?" asked Herald Mikhah.

"Better to cut out their tongues than to encourage that which leads to heresy," recited Zoe.

Eve rolled her eyes, while she glanced the opposite way to where the fresh air seemed to be coming from.

"You disagree, Eve?" he asked.

...If everyone who had questions had their tongue cut out, then no one would ever be able to talk at all, thought Eve. She did not say it aloud though. Instead, she turned and started toward the other end of the tunnel. The lights flickered on the newly polished stone.

"Eve. My daughter, don't you walk away from me," a warning tone to the Herald's voice.

Zoe looked between the two. Her twin sister, a proud sort, and the man she saw as father in all meanings of the word. He not only guided their spirits, but had also raised them in his household. Conflicted, she kissed her amulet and whispered prayers.

"Be good like Zoe," said Mikhah, though his voice rose while Eve continued to walk away. "Eve! EVE! Stop. How dare you ignore me."

Eve bristled, turned on heel, and marched back to her sister's side. She grabbed Zoe's hand and frowned at the tall biqaj, "Maybe if you didn't keep so many secrets, Father..."

"What does that- Eve!" Mikhah fumed while he watched Eve pull Zoe along to walk away from him. He marched forward, stride long and quick for how tall he was, and he caught up to the sisters.

The Herald grabbed onto the back of Eve's head, fist full of her black hair. He yanked hard enough to hurt, while he continued their walk through the tunnel. He said, "You want to know so badly? Is that it? Then you will learn..."

!

Message from: Strange

Since both Vito and Woe are in symbiosis with accepted ghost possession, their movements are forfeit for the time being. While they walk, they are currently experiencing the same memory as if they are the sisters. Vito is possessed by Zoe. Woe is possessed by Eve. They are both aware of this AND can communicate telepathically with one another due to the bonded link between the twin sister ghosts without disrupting the memory. However, these next posts will be the LAST ones for this thread; actions are limited, but you can have them try to resist the possession again if you like (Vito, you will definitely fail but you can try if you'd like). Even attempting resistance of the possession will cut the memory short, so make an OOC note whether or not that is the choice. Updated NPC Count: 95 citizens alive / 5 dead. 1 Child known as Chuchu. 10 Tribunals under Vito's Command (all alive). 8 Soldiers on Woe's Faction (all alive). 1 Grizzled Veteran known as Dragoon Saws (halbred). Sergeant Bellistiero (crossbow/sword) 1 Bloodhound Dog.

[Woe]

Woe listened and watched as Vito allowed the ghost to so easily guide him, to sing its prayer and hold Chuchu close as he bled. The Mortalborn committed the passages that Vito spoke to memory, as best he could. Perhaps there would be time to write it out later if he remembered.

If he survived.

The biqaj's silver blood filled the chalice that emerged from the folds of the velvet held by the child. Even as the spectral war broke out within Woe, he was able to maintain some awareness of what was going on around him. As he allowed the ghosts to fight over control of his body, he found he couldn't command its movement anymore. The ghosts would lead the way, whether to doom or salvation. But he did note the strange lights on the chalice as it was filling up with the Herald's blood.

Woe allowed them to fight each other, savoring the vicarious sensation of ghosts feasting upon each other. As each ghost grew stronger with each tier of the battle surmounted, each of them gaining more control over the others, he felt the victor's elation in his mind. It was intoxicating. Woe could have fought the possession then, but then memories were shared, much like a mummer's show, although this was far more detailed. As if the memories belonged to Woe himself.

He was the stronger willed sister, the least obedient among them. Daughter to an Herald?

Lights filled the corridor, as the chalice was filled to its brim. They were being led someplace, and being shown where that place was in tandem with the memory. Woe wished to learn before they reached it, unsure of the specter's intentions, and the sudden deference of the ghouls.

The ghost now wore his body like an old, comfortable jacket, easily moving him in step with Vito, as the Herald moved down the corridor of lights. To where were they going? Did that rhyme have anything to it? Was this the end, the time for the Wounded God to return? Woe hadn't imagined that there might be anything to the belief in an invisible god. Strong and their convinction and faith was, he presumed it was some artifice that was bred into the people of Quacia. Over generations of programming and indoctrination that had seen them so enthralled to the idea of salvation, that it was given form in their empty traditions.

Was such dismissal a function of his arrogance, the arrogance of divine heritage that informed such a hasty judgment? Was it ignorance? Did Woe have even a choice in what opinions he formed on this strange Faith, or were even his thoughts baked into his purpose as Mortalborn?

Woe watched as the memories continued, as his/her father grabbed them by the hair and dragged them bodily down the same corridor, to find what lay at the end of it. What would they find?

He did not resist the possession but allowed her to move him in tandem with Vito's steps. Eve and Zoe made their way down the lighted hall as their modern counterparts did. They would see what there was to find at the end of this. Whether it led to their death and enlightenment.