The Last Fae

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Arcadia, Jun 1, 2016.

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  1. The deep thrum of eternity ricocheted through the wavelength of reality. The darkness pulsated like a beating heart, and the being inside was a imprisoned homunculus, a husk of what was and what could be. Everything it once was flashed in it's mind like a repetitive Gehenna. It did not know where it was, but it could feel the borders of it's prison. It knew the walls of it's prison. It wanted to escape. It had been sealed away for it's misdeeds, for it's need for chaos and need for murder. It's soul lay dormant in it's mummified hell, waiting for it's acolytes to come rescue it. Or someone unlucky enough to stumble across it.

    That unlucky person was Brynn Cane. A mage-turned-tomb raider, he had stumbled across the tomb of The Last Fae. An entity of demonic infamy, the Last Fae was a being of madness and chaos, craving murder, genocide and insanity in twain. To bring the world back to natural balance was his plan, and in order to achieve that, he would have to sign a pact with the Fae. He would have to give his soul to the creature in order for his ideals to be realized. He stood outside the tomb, it's decrepit and vine covered state a testament to the passage of time and how magic was eternal.

    He entered the tomb. Slowly he walked, his footsteps booming louder and louder as the ceiling of the tomb became greater and greater in height, until he realized he has almost descended into the bowels of the realm itself. He lay in a great hall, centering around an altar in the round. His objective lay in the center, among a horde of acolytes praying for their savior to be awoken. A high priest, clad in black and red, gazed upon the crowd, unaware of Brynn, who had hidden himself behind a pillar. "Behold! The body of our saviour. They who cleanse this world in chaos and fire. They will bring to us the rightful destruction of our oppressors. The men and women who call themselves "monarchies" and "governments" will fall to our will."

    Brynn, curious as to what else the cult leader would say, stepped closer in earshot. However, in the process of doing so, he stepped on a brittle arm bone and cracked it.

    The silence was deafening.

    The cult, in all it's glory, turning around.

    "You."

    The one word sentence was appointed to him. They looked at him, anger in their eyes for destroying the sanctity of their ceremony.

    "You will be the scapegoat to the rising of our lord." The high priest stated, splitting the crowd like a roaring sea and grabbing him firmly by the arm in an inescapable vice like grip. He kicked Brynn's legs out from under him, and dragged him to the podium, where Brynn was spread across, ready to be sacrificed.

    "By the sap of the forest, and the light of the moon, the beam of the sun, we give this sacrifice so you may become mortal material, lord Fae." The high priest exclaimed as he thrust a ceremonial knife into Brynn's chest, the Fae's prison radiating with energy. The very air crackled with magic as a blue, ethereal being crossed the threshold between it's prison, and into the gaping cut within Brynn's chest.

    His mind became alight with images of death, images of chaos, images of madness. Then, the being spoke to him, mentally.



    "Y̭̠̒͊̂͋̊̿o̳̤̱̺̖̘͐͆̒ͤͮ̓͗ͅu͇̥͚̙̮̪̓̀̈͌̚ ̍ͯͮ̒̄̎h̲͓̳̗ͧ̔̎̆̑ͅa̙̯͙͖ve̟̤͎̬̓ͅ ̣͉̱ͤ͌ͯ̏̌͒̏a̟̤͎͑w̖̣̙͎͐͑ͅo̭͖ͬk̤ě̐̊̉ͦͣ̀ñ̲̝͇͚̓͑̒ͯ ̟͍͖͖͎̗̯͒ͬ̏̎̐ṁ̩̈́̓e̼̗̱̼̠̻̮͊ ̭̗͚̫̼̯f̘͉̮͔̱͎̂̐ͣṟ͑̇͛̓o̫̱̻̭͌ͮm̉̽̃ͯ ̹̜̮̼̪͇̤̈̾̊m̖̗͓̈́y͍̮̠ͭͦ̇͒̓̅ͦ ̓ͤ̌ͭ̂e͕̫͓̙͓̭̅ͥͦ́̍̆t͈̺̭ͧ̄͒̋͋̽ͩë͙̞̹̤͈́̉́ͬ̂̋ͤr̭̥̩͔͛͑ͤ̋ͯͩn̖̦̯̫͛ͥ̚̚ͅa̺̖̤͈͎̦ͬl̮̩̙̹̓͊ ͙̗̱̫̗͎̻̊ͨ͋ͩh̜̱͖͕͎̦̦͐̐̍ͥ̐̋̿e͐̏̂ͫͩl̅ͯ̾̄l̞̥̺̰̞̣̅ͅ.̣̝͎ͧͨ̉ͭͅ ̬̫̤̭͍̖̏̂̑
    ̳̪͓͚ͮ͋
    ͙͖̦͓̲ͭ̏̍͂ͣͤ̾I̖ ̱̹̝̞̆i sͫ̔͑ḫ̼ȁ̺͈͎̥̦̘l̐̎̃̓l̦̻͇̻̈ͧ ̈͆̂̔̐̎g͔̣̱̥̟r͕̫̩͔a̹͙͇̤̞n̗͎̾̋ͦͨt̜̣̭̤̳ͫͨͅ ̮̯͙̓ͅy̎o̘ṳ͒ ̙p͉ͫ͒̚ȯ̳ͦͩw̳͙̹̺͍̫é̳̀ͦ̆̋͊ͯr̹̞͙̩̼̾ͥͥ̒ͅ.,̳͔̳͔̹̽ ̽ͫ̅ͪ͂ͣ̋My̼̳̱̟̝̙ ̘ͥ̍̄ͤ̆p̳̻̮͑͐o̠̼ͩw̺͈̿͒ē̱ͧ̃ͩ̔r̝̱͖̅̐ͧ.̜̝ͅ
    ̤͈͔̤̲͌ͥ̆
    ̅ͩ̿B̞̫͓̦ͨuͮt͇̠ͫͤ̊͌ ̫̙̘͔ͮ̈͂ͭͦͫ͐i͕̤̅t͚̬͛̊̃͆̎̂ ͖̹̗̗̮̝̱w̠͚͓͚̦ͧͦ͐͐͌̊͒i̟̩̲ͥ̈́̇ͮ̑ľ̫̱̗͙͈̌͛ͪͦl̼̭̭͚̦̼͐̓̏̃ͯ ͇̖̻̻̉ͪ̔̾̽b̫ͤẽ͚̼͋̾ͥ ͓̳͉̞ͯ͒̈́̂m͖͔͎̰̯ͥ͗͂̚ͅy̭̩̩̙͔̝ͦͩ͑͂͑ͬ̚ ̔̿̑ͪ̃̍mì̒ͣ̀n͖̲̣̭̻̲̯͒̽̇̌ͬ̍d ̽́͂̆t͍ͨ̒ͧ͆̋ḧ͙̪̲͉́ͣa̠ͬͨ̅ͪͮt̯̼̣̥̠̤̎̈ ̜̹̭̯ͫ͒w̮̌ͥͪ̿i͉ͪ̊̀e̜͖̲̭̍ͅͅl̬̫̻̗̥̙̉̃̈́ͯd̹̬̲̔͋̚s͇̍͆̐͐̚ ͖̙̮̌̒̎i̟͉̮̪̻͖ͧͩ͑ͥt̺̼̙͉͑̉͂ͥ̂ͣ͋.̹̂̏͆ͩ
    ̹̩̋
    ͊̉ͤ̋F̘͙͋͊̃ͯͪ͌ͣo͙̬̹̺̰̙ͪͪ̉̉́̒ò̫̃̈́͛̆̎̃l̝̗̹̬i̺̗̱̙̭͉s̮̯͓̬͕̣̯ͤ͛́ͯẖ͈͙̅.̺̹͍̖̟̲ͮ

    F̫̲ͭ͑̋o̲̜̒͊ͧ̽̇o͚̩̯̫͚̯͑͆l̗ͤ̇̌ͯ͆i̻̹͔̠̹͊͗̃s̩͕̫̭͓͇̺̅̇̊͋ͦh̘͖͈͕̉̑ͧ ̪͔̲͍̭̟͒̉̃͗̍̑M̜̝͛ͯ͌̊ͅo̙̦͇̙̞̯̪̊͌̔̉̃͑r̜̔̅̇͌̉t̿̊͛ͥ̆̂̋a͕̝̝̗͉̠̮̔̎l̖̰̘̠̑̃̀͛̏ͨ͊.͎͎̘̖͎͙ ͉"


    As soon as the fae spoke, it rose Brynn's arms and elicited a maddening smile as a third eye opened on his forehead. With a flick of his wrists, the fae in Brynn's mind used it's disgusting magic to cause boils to appear on every person's body, every cultist swelling, larger, larger and larger, until every single one of them, including the high priest, burst in a shower of blood, their souls swirling into a conglomerated sphere, which the Fae absorbed into Brynn.


    "Greetings human. You have allowed me to feed. And now, I have a task for you. There is a being we must kill, in order to bring peace to the world. They have an artifact that must be destroyed, in order for this world to become peaceful."

    Brynn regained his senses, and seeing the vast bloody portrait before him, he gagged before he could respond, the horrid, putrid smell of turgid and rotten flesh causing him to feel revolted. "You did this!" He yelled into the darkness, the soul inside of him laughing at him, almost feeding off of his anger. "Yes I did. I did it because I hungered. But I hunger no longer. At least, not now." The being stated as Brynn fled from the place, his mind whirling and his soul now doubly inhabited.

    @The Returner
     
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  2. The unfamilar taste in her mouth, the ringing in her ears, the headache that promised to split her skull... But most importantly, the body of hers drained of energy was the worst of all. It was a fascinating yet foreboding sensation at the same time. She tried to lift herself off the ground, but her arms were too weak, causing her to fall back into the pool of glazing obsidian liquid that was her blood. Lasat... Her name spoken as the hiss of a loving mother, calling to her with venom in its syllables. Where is it, Lasat? Suddenly, tears filled her eyes. Fear gripped her guts. Fear of failure. Fear of punishment. How could you let this happen, Lasat? Her creator spoke and the pool by the far wall of the underground cave glowed just a little brighter. It was the pool that she was meant to protect from those who desired to posses the object that was lodged in its depth. Well, no more. No matter how many intruders she slayed, no matter their blood now coloring that ungodly blue into devilish purple, the artefact was gone.

    "I'm sorry." Her voice trembled, blowing onto the drying life giving liquid on the floor. "I couldn't do anything." Her tears fell. She felt angered with herself. She was not meant to be overpowered so easily, but they....they knew. Somehow, they knew where she was, how to bind her, how to beat her. She wanted to beg forgiveness for her failure, but she felt sickened by herself just as much as the creator most likely did too. The simple task she was given upon her creation was beyond her abilities clearly. Yet as she drew in a breath, a hand fell on her hair, caring but its nails dragged across Lasat's fair skin, leaving new wounds, fresh blood behind. Yes, my dear, you failed. The woman on the floor sobbed as the ethereal being bent over her with a toothed grin on its face, a sight from hell. But we are not strong enough to make ourselves a new, better guardian. It spoke in an androgynous voice, the words bouncing of the walls of the underground cave like the voice of many and none. Lasat's feeble body was thrown across the space and pressed against the cold stone, eliciting a pained grunt from her. Her eyes settled on her creator for the second time of her endless lifetime. A sight confusing, even revolting to those who saw it. Yet it was so clear to Lasat as the child of darkness and she gazed upon it with adoration, with plea for mercy in her hues. You will find it, Lasat. You will find it, retrieve it and bring it back. The pressure around her neck increased as she gasped rapidly for air that began to be scarce. You will do so for I curse you to eternally roam the land if you don't. Her spine cracked and her body fell limp on the floor. Yet, she was still conscious, the curse settling into her body like invisible chains. For as long as her creator was alive so would she be eternal too.​
     
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