Fantasy RPG Forum - Standing Trials

1st Ymiden 724

She stood before the haggard crone adorned in her black robe and the only thought that had come to pass was how something so weak and frail could talk about power. The notion was profane, but so to was Sephira and after that encounter with the element soldier so many cycles ago it had left an impression. Her encounter with the raggedy man, and various others had left her questioning her own physical prowess. Even divinity felt like it had fallen short to those that could bend and shape the world in there image. Something was missing from her repertoire and this woman sought to fill the void, perhaps as a last attempt to ride this childs coat tails to greatness.

The only thing that was relevant now was the task that was before her, the old ways and the old traditions are what the former cultist held onto. Blind to what lay forward into the future, she sought to live amongst filth and dirt like a peasant. For what she claimed to have in power she saw only fear in her masters doctrine, but what was it that cultivated such deafening and suffocating tones. Who or what, did the cultist fear to the point of basking in shit and proclaiming it glory?

As she sat in the dank crypt of the cemetery she was with another hopeful apprentice, the mortalborn saw it in the other pupils eye. The smells brought back fond memories of her excursion in the aquaducts, back when she reveled in the comradery and slaughter. Fragments of memories only lulled her forward from the hushed whispers of diri that incited madness, perhaps a figment of or an ailment of her imagination. The sweet softness of there tone was entrancing as they guided her path to the here and now.

Lavana wore a garment stained and foul the tapestry once illustrious now faded and sullied a robe of an elasin cultist as she stood before a nameless adversary. The old ways required blood sacrifice, only the strongest orphans had the right to ascend to immortality the lessers no more then meat puppets to be strung along by marionettes.

candlemarks beforehand that had been initiated into necromancy, and both students had taken to the spark. It was an alien thing, it felt all wrong like it was some kind of parasite tarnishing her tethers. The mortalborn still felt deathly ill as the throws of her mortal coil was still adjusting to this affliction that was feeding off her soul. The mark of cerelion seemed to hum in disapproval to which Lavana merely thought; it was you that chose me remember? The band still hummed in disapproval before subsiding to its normal rhythm.

As the master had left a skeletal corpse with a ceremonial athame in the center of this crypt between Lavana and the other acolyte hopeful, Tolly walked and extinguished the fickle candle flames she forced the creaky door closed leaving the two in darkness. Lavana seemed to have adjusted faster as she saw through the darkness in hues of black and white, as if she could see within the pitch black with a predators gaze. It seemed that what she saw was not the same for the other who was freaking out in the enveloping shadows of one of there graves.

Can you not see in the darkness the way that I can? Is your gift that Tolly spoke of different then mine?

There was no answer as her rival was on her knees frantically sweeping her hands around trying to locate this rusty dagger that lay clasped tightly in the hand of the dead in the dust obscured by blinding shadows. The mortal born had been given her answer, as she pondered it over in this abyssal pitch black void.

The mortalborn jolted forward as her hands cusped the back of the other initiates head as she drove her knee into her nose with a cartilage popping crunch as the swift blow was decisive and disorienting as the netting of her fingers broke free of her adversaries skull she was sent reeling down it was hardly the hardest trial that had been put before her. The cultist was weak physically, lacked a warriors intuition grasping at straws of power tomorrow if to survive the darkening. Shameful really to think that they were on equal footing, Lavana thought to distract herself from the sparks invasion of divinity as if to taint and sully it. It was unclear if her musings were an accurate depiction. It was almost as if it had gone against everything that she had been built for, all roads inevitably led to the path of death and yet necromancy was a desecration of the very principal of her foundation.

Show me your gift! Lavana snarled as she tried to see how the spark affected the other her curiosity a booming boast of her martial supremacy as she ignored the cadaver and instead a sharp thrust of her foot collided into the initiates exposed ribs as she lay hunched over to drive her away from that dagger for good measure as she circled her victim like a shark with blood in the water. Her new spark danced in excitement she could feel its filth burrowing into her soul further as she began tapping into something as adrenaline began kicking through her veins. Her awareness was heightened as a lust for blood began setting in before the miracle was set in motion.

As she began to draw ether it enveloped the corpse drowning it in the dark web of her tapestry it began to shiver and quake spasms at first as Lavana had dominated the space with her physicality never allowing the other an opportunity to take control from her as she set in motion her thrall.
The pale man loomed over its victim as if to taunt her with fear as Lavana now a black sorceress realizing the ether from within this corpse was tangible, she did not have words to describe this convoluted mass as it imitated life from within the undead her undead. It all had happened so fast almost out of necessity or instinct. As this grim force enveloped the corpse and forcing it to rise once more, creaky and shaky unrefined but mobile it was hers to do with as she pleased. There was a melody to the undeath her undeath that took the form of sweet whispers hushed tones in an indecipherable language a melencholy silhouette of tongues lost to time that tore through the silence of the chamber.

The initiate was bracing itself against the wall trying to get back up to there feat, Lavana stood motionless willing the undead in pursuit of her prey as it descended upon its victim with a sloppy knife hand plunging and carving into the meat and bone. The strength of her adversary was waning as flailing hands tried as they may and tested the undeads clutch as Lavana responded by willing her loyal servants grip tighter ever still.

The spark urged her forward and Lavana followed its lead, wanted to look this opponent in the eyes as she drained the life from them. Closer and closer still as more and more ether poured into the spell. There was a thirst as she opened her lips and from her sacrifices drowning gasps of blood a murky unsettling death rattle as the undeads hand never wavered in its constriction. Lavana felt this urge to drink in that which was escaping. Life force a soul? She was not sure but the newborn spark within wailed for nourishment and so she drank deep from this well, as this pale bluish white mist that could only be described as a face in anguish drawn out from her lips to hers as she devoured till there was nothing left except a husk of a vanquished foe as the struggle had ended and all had gone limp.

Surprise or shock of the deed caused her to let go of the corpse and they both fell by default.

She was unsure of what had happened but found the sickness fading and instead felt energized she was lost in a haze a high that she had never experienced before as she stumbled back to the other side of the wall to live with the consequences of what she had done, if anything the other initiate was undeserving of there gift and she assumed that is what she had ripped from the other initiate cannibalizing there spark.

Part of her felt stronger then ever, and there was a part of her that was reviled in disgust.

But she would always wonder what dark gift had manifested in her sacrifice perhaps nothing at all and that is why she lay defeated a failure.

All Lavana really knew is that when the doors deep within the crypt had been opened, she had made her sacrifice and she was worthy in Tollys eyes of being the necromancers apprentice.