Baptized by the Abyss

[Olorae]

(The first installment of what I hope will be a longer story. The inspiration hit me at work today.)

Chapter One: The Prophecy

The Celebrant sat back and rubbed her eyes before stretching her arms out to the sides. Several days on end spent researching, and so far she had nothing to show for her troubles but an ache in her neck and circles beneath her eyes.

Dark whispers flitted through her mind, chastising her for a lack of progress and for the mortal failings of the body that drove her to set her research aside. Pointedly, she ignored them, standing and moving across the lavish study, ignoring the piles of books and scrolls that had claimed all the available flat space.

She stood at the window, looking out at the darkened harbor village. It was quiet outside: guards stood at their posts, lazily searching the edge of the lantern light for any sign of trouble. She was surprised at how quiet Gludin had become, even as a war raged nearby.

But then, it was not as nearby as she liked to imagine. A great distance separated Gracia from Aden, spanned only by magic. She knew the fight raged on, however, for the watch captains were constantly seeking soldiers to send to the fight. The Kamaloka, Shilen’s creations and servants, had seen to it that many would never return.

A smile crossed her face as she turned away from the window and back to the scroll unfurled on her desk. The reported find on the far coast gave her hope, inspiration that, while imprisoned, Shilen was still growing in power.

She walked back to the desk and sat down, looking over the passage once again, in hopes that it would make more sense this time.

Distant currents, deep water, drifting shadow.
A mother’s kiss, pallbearer’s tears.
Flowers fade, sun grows cold, empty meadow.
Fire comes, faces turn to hide their fears.
Twice damned, twice pardoned, baptized in loss,
The daughter awakens.

At first, she had paid no attention to the old human’s ramblings, content to pass by the beggar as she would any other. When he had flung himself upon her robes, clutching to her and babbling the same words over and over, she had thought only to slit his throat and be done with him. It was the look in his eyes, however, that stayed her hand. The man had the hollow, vacant stare of the dead, but in those dull eyes she saw the reflection of an endless sea of dark, churning water. In his eyes, she saw the Abyss.

[khanna]

(ooh, insteresting.)

[ValerieRose]

((I like it!!! Wanna read more ))

[Kruail]

((I like it ;D But how did it go from reading a passage on a scroll to looking at a beggar? O.o))

[Nasicae]

((nice and interesting. where is the next installment? =]))

[Sadori]

((Kruail- It's recall. The "passage" she was reading was given to her by the beggar and she was recalling how it came about))

((Looking forward to more!))

[Kruail]

((Ohhh... I knew that...))

[Olorae]

Chapter Two: The Prophecy (Part 2)

“Do you think she has any idea of the significance?”
“No, Lord Tetrarch, she appears to be as clueless as the rest of the Celebrants.”
“Let us hope she remains that way. We must ensure that she not fulfill the prophecy. Our positions could be jeopardized. She already deposes us openly.”
“Should we send Kreed to deal with her?”
“No. She’d expect that. Send… the new girl. This will be her test.”
“Yes, Lord Tetrarch.”

--

The Celebrant sat in shock, staring at the yellowed, dry parchment in front of her. It had been excavated from a ruin in Gracia, and she had paid well to be the one to receive it. It spoke of the Children of Shilen, of their exile to the far continent and the shadow of the Hammer, of their efforts to subvert the war brewing there to release the Mother. But there, in little more than a sentence, sat the words that called out to her:

Blessed by holy rage, the Inquisitors of old will lead us to victory.

‘Inquisitors?’ she wondered aloud. The last inquisitors she had encountered had not been keen on leading the Children. No, they had seemed bent on destroying the Cult once and for all. Clearly, the parchment referred to another force, a force loyal to Shilen. Who were the Inquisitors? Where had they been hiding? Could she harness their power?

She leaned down again to study the faded words, eyes scanning each letter as if one would reveal all the secrets she yearned to know. More writing about Kamaloka, of the demons that the Cult had awoken, and of their actions in Gracia: nothing about the Inquisitors, nothing of importance to her.

--

Days passed, and the Celebrant pored through the many ancient scrolls and texts she had acquired over the years, a woman possessed. Her fingers, smudged with ink, scribbled words as she came to them, though the result was something that would make sense to no one.

The Inquisitors were Celebrants of power, born of noble blood, chosen to defend the faith with the blessings of the Goddess, a fire born of Her perfect fury. They acted against Her enemies, granting purity and death.

Ancient times reborn, war breathes anew.
Light against dark, death against life.
Water begets fire, balance held true.
Armies march, heralding the piper’s fife.

Distant currents, deep water, drifting shadow.
A mother’s kiss, pallbearer’s tears.
Flowers fade, sun grows cold, empty meadow.
Fire comes, faces turn to hide their fears.
Twice damned, twice pardoned, baptized in loss,
The daughter awakens.

She had found the full prophecy hidden in an ancient text describing the War of the Gods, the events following Shilen’s fall from Glory. Overshadowed by the armies of dragons, demons, and angels, it had long been overlooked by the historians as the ravings of a madman.

[Sadori]

((::shivers:

[ValerieRose]

((Noble blood, you say? Mmm... Kiltain is supposed to be a prince...

I wonder, I wonder...

Won't spoil.

Very very very good job, Kama, I'm loving it. Gotta talk to you about this asap ))

[Xynui]

((Mmmmmmmmm. Can't wait until I can dust off Xynnie, I craave RP x.X

Looking good though, fascinating.))

[Kruail]

((Awesome!

[sumatraa]

{{Wow, when is the next installment. This is gonna be real good. I've missed rp soooo much. )) ^_^

[Olorae]

Chapter Three (The Price)

The brightest flame burns quickest,
So too those that wake.
Power beyond dream imagined,
The price: a thirst to slake.
Fury born and Fury bred,
Theirs is duty divine.
Tasked with never-ending vengeance,
Fire burning; body dead.

The verse had been written not in a parchment or a tome, but in a painting. She had nearly missed it, walking through the temple’s halls after the Rite of Purity and Reunification. It was a painting of an ancient Celebrant, from the days before the war with the orcs of Elmore, one of the first to wear the title of Saint.

She had stopped to admire the portrait when she saw the scroll painted on a table behind him. The writing was at an odd angle, too small to be read clearly, but when she returned with a seeing glass, the verse leapt out at her and quickly joined other scribbled writings in her journal.

More and more, the evidence of the Inquisitors was coming to light. With each additional piece of knowledge, the Prophecy was beginning to make more sense: These were the times that would see the return of the Inquisitors, blessed in Holy Fire and ready to fight for Her in the growing chaos.

--

As the Celebrant slipped into the reading room, she knew immediately that something was wrong. There was a tension in the air all too familiar, and it set the shadows about her into a near-frenzy, their ghastly whispers rising in a chorus of discord, their chains rattling in a chaotic fury.

She rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the dart that thudded into the door frame. Coming to her feet, she caught just a glimpse of the figure diving through the window, followed by the crackle of energy that she could only assume was an escape scroll, likely blessed by some priest or another. Taking the dart, she secreted it away in a pouch and handed it to the nearest shadow.

“Find out what you can,” she ordered, and it hissed its assent and vanished, leaving the room just slightly brighter.

Composing herself, she continued through the reading room and out to the garden, where the two bladedancers awaited, putting on a smile

“Shall we?” she asked, gesturing to the road back toward the village.

[Olorae]

Chapter Four (The Dream)

“So she knows?”
“I think so, Lord Tetrarch.”
“Damn. What of the assassin?”
“Failed, but it does not appear she associates the attempt with her research.”
“At least we have some blessing in that small fact. Keep her out there, hopefully she’ll succeed this time.”
“Yes, Lord Tetrarch.”
“And bring me Kreed.”

--

The Celebrant was dreaming, which was in itself a surprise. She had not remembered having any dreams for decades, long before the attempted usurping of her position, before she had been abandoned, before she had truly come into power.

Tonight, however, she dreamed of white-hot fire, pouring out the windows of churches across Elmoreden. She heard the screams of the dying, of Her enemies, but it was not enough to know cloister and cloth burned. She desired more, she craved the death of not just priests, but of the goddess herself.

The Celebrant saw the clouds part as the magnificent temple in Aden fell inward upon itself, white marble stained with blood, burned black with flame, and the Celebrant looked upon the face of the Hypocrite. Einhasad’s anger at the death of her worshippers was a palpable force in the air, but the Celebrant did not cower, for the fury of the Mother, born of betrayal, roiled from her skin, purging her of fear.

Raising her hands toward the face of the goddess, the Celebrant began to intone ancient words, in a long-forgotten dialect, willing the flame from her body into the clouds.

Betrayal repaid,
Ancient secrets undone,
Hatred’s vile seed has been laid,
Love grown to fury, death comes to One.

With a sharp gasp, the Celebrant sat up in her bed, reaching to her brow where the symbol burned, white-hot to the touch. She let out a scream, waking both the blade dancers in her company, but she was oblivious to their presence; all she felt was the pain, the loss, the betrayal.

Just as suddenly, the symbol faded to just ink, and she fell back to the pillows, unconscious and bathed in a sheen of perspiration. She slept again, as sound as a newborn babe, untouched by further dreams.

[ValerieRose]

((Very very nice! She's greedy though, TWO BD's while there are people out there with NONEE!! -pouts - )

[Olorae]

Chapter Five (The Best Laid Plans)

The assassin relaxed onto the wooden beam, easing herself into position. It had taken weeks to figure out where the Celebrant would be most vulnerable, and it had taken more than a substantial amount of adena to bribe her way into the building, but now she was ready; the Celebrant would not escape this time.

She sat and waited as others came and went, remaining silent and observing them as they bathed, unwilling to reveal herself until the perfect moment. All her training and a little luck went into staying hidden, but it would pay off, and she would become a legend. She would be the one successful in slaying the thorn that had been lodged in the Tetrarch Council’s side for so long.

--

The Celebrant closed the door behind herself, making her way to the bath. She’d had it prepared to her liking – a hint of jasmine and lilac in the water – and warmed just enough. She looked around, confirming the safety she knew she had in this room. Shadows stationed outside the door would prevent all but two from entering, and a cursory sweep of the bath chamber revealed it empty. She could finally relax, finally let her guard down.

--

The assassin tensed, watching the dark elf below. She froze as the other woman’s eyes settled on her – had she been caught? Had all her planning been undone? It would appear not, however, as the Celebrant looked away after what seemed an agonizingly long moment.

Waiting for the woman to begin moving, the assassin slipped the poison-coated knife from its sheath, silent as silk over steel. Confirming she remained unseen, she shifted into a crouch, ready to drop as death from above, but was thwarted as the door opened.

--

Immediately, the Celebrant pulled her robe up to cover herself, reaching for the sword hidden within its folds, a precaution she could ill afford to forget. Seeing the blade dancer, however, she relaxed and laid the robe aside, slipping into the water.

The two began to speak, conversing in private, hushed tones, though the armored woman seemed agitated, continually glancing around the room despite the placations of the Celebrant.

Something was wrong, but she just could not put her finger on it.

[Nasicae]

((very nice kama!))

[Sithlyn]

Sept 4, 2008 6:19:59 GMT -8 ValerieRose said:

((Very very nice! She's greedy though, TWO BD's while there are people out there with NONEE!! -pouts - )

((Nope, no greed involved Kallymonster. She just randomly got lucky. ;D

[Olorae]

((And there is so much innuendo there...))

[Kruail]

((I got lucky too!!!





I found a nickel! ;D))

[Olorae]

Chapter Six (Birth of an Inquisitor)

The assassin knew she had one chance, and this was the best it was going to get. The dancer was not showing any signs of leaving, and if she lingered the Celebrant would escape. She had to act, and she had to act now. Readying the knife, she lunged, dropping from the rafters and the shadows.

She had protection from the shadows and shades, those had been expected. She saw the dancer turn, knowing she had the element of surprise, but she would have to be quick on her feet to avoid the kiss of the dual swords. Dropping into a crouch behind the Celebrant, she drew the knife up swiftly to the woman’s throat.

“Back down, or she dies,” the assassin hissed, having no intention to honor the offer either way. It didn’t appear to work, as the dancer’s blades flew into her hands, even as she hesitated, looking to the Celebrant for the briefest moment. The assassin let the blade slip just across the Celebrant’s skin, enough to draw blood; enough to let the poison in.

The dancer gasped, lunging for the assassin, who had anticipated the action and leapt up and to the side, landing once more in a crouch, a grin on her face. That poison was lethal, and she had done it. The Celebrant would die in a matter of moments, all she had to do was get out alive. Fingering the scroll pouch on her belt, she pulled the blessed scroll free and, ducking a sword that would have taken her head, rolled to the side, backing away from the enraged dancer.

Unable to recite the scroll while the dancer pressed the attack, the assassin ducked and weaved, brought her dagger up to parry, and countered as she could. It was not a part of the contract to kill the dancer, but she might have to, if only to escape alive. Blow for blow, the flash of blades and blood signaled as each scored a hit on the other, the pair matched in skill and dedication to their success.

The Celebrant lay in the bath, holding her neck, the poison coursing through her veins, bringing fire where it passed. Writhing in pain, she prayed in a hoarse whisper, seeking purity and forgiveness, seeking power and strength. What happened next surprised them all.

The water in the bath evaporated into a cloud of steam, flash boiled as the Celebrant’s body burst into a white-hot pillar of flame, the stone and metal twisting and melting around her. The dancer and the assassin were blinded by the scalding cloud, each swinging in vain at one another, neither able to breathe.

The roar of the flames bent and arced from the Celebrant’s outstretched hands, searing the wall where the assassin had just been standing, the woman escaping through the scroll’s magic, her body singed but intact.

The Celebrant collapsed back into the bath, amidst soot and melted silver, unconscious. Quickly, the dancer moved to her side, scooping her up in strong arms and spiriting her away to their haven, through her own magical scroll, where she discovered the knife wound gone, the poison burned up within the divine fire. She did not realize it at the time, but she had witnessed the birth of an Inquisitor.

[Jhaelle]

((Liquid awesome, Olo! ;D But you just know there's going to be an upset little dwarf who has to repair that tub...

[Kruail]

((If you wrote a book Olo, I'd buy it in a heartbeat

[The Thorn]

The Assassin steadied herself with a hand against the wall, her lungs burning and aching as she coughed. Sucking in great draughts of cool air, she finally stood and made her way to the well where she was able to draw a bucket of cold water to sooth her throat and flesh. As her skin cooled, her temper flared. Drawing her dagger she cursed liberally and threw the dagger just over the head of a female dwarf who promptly yelped and took off.

"What in the bloody Abyss was that!" Talking to no one in particular, as the area was now devoid of what few stragglers were there a moment before. She stalked to the wall and freed her blade, sticking back in it's sheath. Storming through the dirt roads of Dion, she cursed and muttered to herself, glowering and promising death to any who crossed her path. "Never EVER engage the mark when you are uncertain you can do so without being seen. How MANY times have you had that pounded into your head?" her menacing ramblings clearing the path before her as she approached the Inn.

Her ravings all but ceased as she crossed the threshold into the dimly lit establishment. Passing the Innkeep she growled, "Dreviant wine. Your best. In my room. Now.". Continuing up the stairs to her room, she stripped her gloves and checked the simple trap mechanism on the door before entering. Tossing her gloves and dagger upon the bed, she began to disrobe, thinking furiously about what possessed her to take such a chance, who the hells was that dancer, and WHAT had she just seen? She never took risks like that. She was a professional. NO one ever saw her unless she intended them to. No one.

Finally wrapping a short silk robe around her, she flopped down in the overstuffed chair just as the Innkeep knocked on the door.

[spudnik]

((well THAT was unexpected. Welcome The Thorn ?

[Kruail]

((I was gonna post the same thing, but I figured it'd seem rude

[The Thorn]

Cloaked and veiled from head to toe, The Thorn thrust open the door to the antechamber where the Tetrarch Council was in session and strode to the center of the room, startling the council to a hush. Behind her in the hall, a temple attendant sobbed uncontrollably. With a graceful leap, almost a single stride really, she was on the overly long table that dominated the council chamber. Thiffiel, was of course, the first to recover. His surprise replaced by fury at the interruption. As he rose to speak, The Thorn raised a hand for silence and then indicated the the chief councilman should take his seat. As expected, Thiffiel balked and drew a breath for a speech, which is what she had been hoping for. In two steps, she was before him, dagger at his throat. "I suggest, Thiffiel, that you keep your tongue and have a seat. I have business with the Tetrarchs this eve, and you especially. I am not in a mood to deal with your bluster. And quite frankly, I'm fighting the urge to have done with you right now for the inconvenience you have caused me.". The Tetrarch sat, slowly, and the assassin crouched to keep the deadly blade in place. Once he was seated, she backed away a step, and still exuding menace, she spoke to the council.

Starting to her left, she named each of the five Tetrarchs, recited his place of residence, and his family members- making eye contact with each one. And to a one, they turned sickly and began to sweat, not uttering a word. Finally, she turned back to Thiffiel.

"The Tetrarch Council has violated the contract. When you contacted me, you clearly indicated that you wanted the best. One that would complete the job quickly and efficiently without dragging the Council into it. In return, the Council was to provide me with extensive and accurate detail regarding the mark. The Council intentionally provided me with bad information." Thiffiel spluttered and rose to argue, again The Thorn held up a hand to silence him. All eyes were on the head Tetrarch as he sunk into his seat. The Assassin continued, "Not only was it bad information, it was crucial information that lead to a botched attempt. It seems you neglected to tell me that the Celebrant's companion dancer, was also her Blade Dancer and her devoted body guard. This omission has caused me no small inconvenience. And while I am fairly certain the kill was made, I must now seek out this Blade Dancer - who has now gone into hiding - and confirm the kill or complete it. In the past, I have killed my employers for lesser things.". She turned, and walked to the end of the table and turned back. Each face upon her, eyes wide as the threat set in. Beneath her veil, she smiled. "As I have already made clear, I have all the knowledge I need to extract my payment from this council. However, I will offer you the opportunity to make restitution. I expect a complete portfolio of information on the Celebrant Olorae and her Blade Dancer. And I expect payment as indicated in this." Stooping, she slid a thick envelope to the end of the table before Thiffiel. The Tetrarch picked up the envelope and opened it, reading the pages within. Then he nodded. With a nod of her own she turned and stepped gracefully from the table and moved to the door. Turning again to face the Council she added, "And if you fail this time, the temple will be appointing a new Tetrarch Council to replace it lost members. All of them.". Bowing in mockery, she closed the doors and left the Tetrarchs to their Council. As a one, they turned their eyes to Thiffiel, and the room erupted in raised voices.

[Olorae]

((Holy...

Um... Sadori? I think we're sleeping in our armor for a while))

[Sadori]

((Errrr. Yeah. Okay... But..damn!))