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Post by Orcus on his Throne on May 19, 2018 4:37:11 GMT
Night had fallen upon the fair city of Mival. The sun was slowly creeping below the horizon, and the lights of the streets began to flip to life. Buildings slowly began to dim down, particularly in the residential areas, as many people prepared for the long hours of slumber. The hoots of owls and chirps of the occasional bird were the only company those wandering late at night received, of which there were few to be had.
Shuffling through the primeval darkness was a tall, slim figure, clad in a long coat that obscured their features. Ignoring the shapes of passerby, mostly drunkards who couldn't hold their liquor even this early into the night, the figure marched down the cobblestone streets of the Draxonian region of Mival, before stumbling into the slightly more modern region of Mival. The figure approached a lonesome cottage towards the end of the quiet street, where another figure, this one looking like some sort of guard, stood watch. The slim figure handed the guard a bag of coinage, before they were allowed passage into the building.
Inside the small cottage were several other figures, clad in similarly long robes. In the center of the room sat a lonely altar, crafted out of some kind of obsidian stone. Tied to this altar is the form of a young boy, maybe 6 or 7 years old, bound and gagged. He is visibly crying in terror.
"How long until the boy is used?" one of the robed figures inquired.
"Soon," the tall one stated. "We must wait for the command of Nebuchadnezzar. Then, we will begin the ritual."
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Post by Orcus on his Throne on May 31, 2018 3:16:09 GMT
Several minutes had passed while the robed figures waited. Silence had fallen over the group as they stared, eyes barely visible in the dying light, upon the helpless frame of the young boy. It seemed the child had tired himself out, for his struggles and sobbing had long stopped. The boy simply lay there limp and resigned, eyes bloodshot and nose red and raw.
Suddenly, a nimbus of infernal light filled the cottage, forcing the robed figures to block it out with their hands. The young boy's eyes flutter from the light, struggling to keep the orange glow from blinding him. His eyes stung with a sharp pain due to their dryness. As the light died down, the shape of a humanoid figure faded slowly into view. The figure, clad in a magnificent red and black robe, as smoldering symbols in a dark language quickly emblazon themselves along the length of the robe. An ebon hood obscures the figure's visage, as a pair of red-tinged eyes gleam through the darkness. The child, cowed by the presence of this menacing figure, resumes crying and panting, scooting away from the figure along the floor. The other robed figures kneel before the figure in a sign of respect.
"My lord Nebuchadnezzar," the tall figure from before whispered in reverence, "it is good of you to finally arrive."
"It is good to see you as well, Ipes," Nebuchadnezzar replied as he removed his hood. It was soon revealed why he wore a hood - his skin was a pale red color, while a pair of short but thick horns curled upwards from his brow, giving him a terrifying appearance. His crimson eyes glistened with an ethereal might, which further frightened the bound young boy. "Is this whom you have designated as chosen?"
"Yes," Ipes replied hastily. "He has shown to have... potential."
"Good. Then let us begin the ritual," The ebon-robed figure snarled malevolently.
The robed men all suddenly stood up from their crouched positions. One of the figures ripped off the mouth cover of the young boy, who continued to weep uncontrollably. Garbled words in a dark language filled the ears of the boy, who stared around at the robed figures with a mix of fear and anxiety. What were they doing? Their words slowly began to become clear, however; what was once garbled nonsense became... a chant? Something about fire and brimstone. Nothing good for sure.
Suddenly, Nebuchadnezzar spoke. "O Molagh, King of Flame, He Who Sees All, First of Firsts, lend us your ear, for today is a day of reckoning! The weak shall be cowed, and only the strong shall survive! Let those blind to the immutable truths of this world, O Molagh, Bringer of Order, be smote by your divine wrath! Molagh, Justiciar of All, grant us but a fragment of your strength to awaken the fire to cleanse this land of all weakness!"
The boy could feel an intense warmth build within him, like a raging fire. It quickly became a searing, burning pain. Yet, he did not die. He was in pain, but he had not died. But just as he thought his agony would never end, it suddenly became dull. Numb, so to speak. He felt nothing now. As he opened his eyes, he could see that, from where he was, his body was below him. He could see the entire room from where he was! And yet, something still felt very wrong. As he observed in silence, his mind was then assailed by visions of terrible things. Visions of a place of fire.... and ash.... ____________________________________________________________________ "How long until the ritual is completed?" Ipes asked, standing over the form of the boy, whose body was slowly disappearing as a swirl of fire began to appear in the room.
".... Soon," Nebuchadnezzar replied passively, a smirk upon his face. "I expect you to stay here and ensure that the boy's soul is not expended too early. He must serve long enough for the legion to emerge."
"Yes my lord," the robed figures replied in unison as the ebon-robed man vanished from sight as quickly as he arrived...
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Post by Orcus on his Throne on Jun 4, 2018 3:14:29 GMT
It was rapidly becoming evident to all those involved that the rift was becoming larger than they had anticipated. The swirl of dark fire had effectively consumed the entire center of the room, leaving the robed figures little room to maneuver around it. The portal began to whirr and hiss, letting out sounds like that of choking and moaning. Suddenly, it was as if the portal had begun to come alive; tendrils of flame lurched out from its opening and began to grab anything within reach. Primarily, this was the robed figures who were so foolishly huddled close to it. The robed figures seemed to stand in eerie peace as the tendrils grabbed them, reducing their forms to little more than cinder before the dark flames.
Panicked by this sudden turn of events, Ipes made his way towards the door with shocking speed. One of his compatriots was in the way, attempting to block his exit. In his desperation, Ipes struck the figure across the face with his fist before pushing aside, sprinting outside once his "ally" was dealt with. Outside, Ipes noted the bouncer they had hired had already jumped ship. A shame really, Ipes thought it would have been satisfying to see that coward get tossed into the portal in his place.
Moving hastily, Ipes sprinted into the shadows of a nearby alley, hoping to avoid being spotted by any others. He looked back towards the cottage, looking for any sign of the others escaping. No such evidence had presented itself. Ipes sighed, though he was unsure as to what exactly he should think about this turn of events. Was he supposed to stay behind and really wait as Nebuchadnezzar had commanded? Was that to be his destiny? Was he to follow his orders to his death like the others had done so passively?
It did not take long for evidence of the portal's existence to become known. Smoke was rising from the many holes within the apartment, and flame began to lick the thatched roof of the building. From inside, Ipes could make out the shadows of a vaguely humanoid figure, a little under 7 feet tall and clad in what appeared to be armor fused to its flesh. The figure glanced directly towards Ipes, eyes gleaming ominously in the fiery light, which filled the robed figure with an existential dread he could not even imagine. As more figures, smaller than the last, began to emerge from the portal, Ipes sprinted off into the night, discarding his robes in his panic to avoid suspicion and to lighten his load as he fled.
Reckoning had brought itself upon Mival. And it had only just begun...
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