[M] Í Tokuni III

[Vicissitude]

Summer 04 year 124 of the third age
Continued from here.
<tw: image of female nipples in thread>​

"Cinnabar? It's a mineral like any other, can be mined naturally in the earth somewhere. I don't know exactly where it's naturally found, though– got it from a merchant who claimed he'd traded for it in Arcanis," Aric began his explanation as they walked through the maze.

"It's mainly used in pigments, for painting and pottery and the like; my wife's a painter, likes to mix her own. Now, she's not a mage herself, so I've bound to quite a few colorful minerals– that way she'll never run out of her favorites," finishing his anecdote by the time they arrived at the door. Själ would be able to tell from the affection woven into his voice that he cared much for that wife of his.

Aric appeared perplexed when they arrived in the next room. Placing his hands on his hips and bearing a bewildered expression, "...what manner of trickery is this?"

He listened to Själ while she approached the table, though he didn't move at first. "You know, the room may well be harmless; they might think we'll be too paranoid to partake," the man paused, eyeing the food quizzically.

Still, after a moment, he would follow Själ's lead and allowed himself to partake in the prepared victuals. The warrior opted to go after what he recognized as venison, a favorite of his, and it tasted exactly as delicious as it looked.

"Even if there's something wrong with it, doubt there'll be another chance for us to eat and I'd rather die of poison than the agony of starvation– or forcing myself to stomach the rotting meat of the beasts that roam this place. Hell, that shite's likely to kill us anyways– I can't imagine eating those monsters and not falling ill," he rambled, as if he were just as desperate to justify this decision to himself as he was to his companion.

Even as moments passed, neither of them would feel ill.

Aric had a traveler's rucksack with him, since as he'd said earlier, he had been traveling to investigate the witch that had been harassing his sister's subjects– the very same witch that ended up dragging him here. He'd run out of his own provisions prior to meeting Själ. "I'll pack away a few things just in case, but I hope we'll be able to leave before needing to eat again," the man said with a sigh.

"You feeling alright, lass? I've not noticed any issues, but that doesn't mean we haven't cursed ourselves someway somehow, so we should be mindful of that," he asked, wondering if she was having a different experience– she wasn't.

The man collected some hard cheeses, bread and a few baked goods, as well as the small amount of dried meat that had been left behind. Wasn't too heavy, at least not for him, and would last them a while.

The door leading out was straight across the table from the door they'd entered, and gesturing to it, he'd ask: "shall we go or would you like to rest here a while longer?"

꧁══════════• ༺༉ { Evanthia / Aric von'Lundqvist / Vlassis } ༉༻•══════════꧂

꧁══════════• ༺༉ ❁ ❀ ❁ ༉༻•══════════꧂​

 

[Caelum]

"Ah, that makes sense. Now that I think about it, there's probably a market to be made traveling around and selling rocks for mages to bind to," she mused.

Sjal's heart sank when she heard that Aric was married. She would hate for someone's husband or father to never make it home because of this blasted place. It furthered her resolve – she would get him out at all costs!

"Good point," she said when he spoke about the food. "I haven't noticed anything… yet."

She didn't feel sick when eating, not immediately anyways, so she ate what she could. She was a tiny thing and couldn't eat a huge amount anyways. She didn't have a bag either, so she stuffed some bread in her pockets with the hopes that it would be enough. She didn't know if she agreed with the sentiment that poison was better than starving, but she'd never experienced what it was like to go hungry.

"I suppose we might as well get going. I'm tired, but I think I'll be even more sore if I take a nap. Might be better to power through until we get to another resting spot." She walked up to the door and tried opening it.

205

 

[Vicissitude]

Summer 04 year 124 of the third age​

"That there is! Many Terrari will trade with one another, too," his response given as he finished packing what food he could carry. "And on the subject of stone, lest you wonder, I have tried to bend the walls of this place. It won't listen– must be warded," he said with a huff. "If only it were so simple."

When it came to the decision about whether they should stay a while in the room to rest, Aric nodded in agreement. "Aye, fair point. Better to strike while the iron's hot 'n all that," saying the last part more to himself than to Själ.

As they passed through the door opposite to the one they entered, another winding corridor lay before them. "You think this is really the layout of this place? Or maybe they're movin' us around as we go through the rooms with their own corrupt Exodus– maybe that's why yours is actin' so strange?" Aric posited while they navigated the path ahead. "I have to wonder how the freaks that call this place home navigate it without wasting a ton of their own time– there's gotta be some trickery to it. Maybe every door's a portal, who's to say…"

Though the corridor took a few sharp turns, it wasn't a maze this time, and they soon came across another door. This time, Aric would open it, and inside was another room– dimly let aside from the center, which was illuminated by a rather bright shard of Luxiumite. It was rectangular, and on the east of the room were four doors; enclosed cells with high, stone doors which concealed their contents. Strangely, the doors had no locks, no handles, no apparent way to open them– the only things that gave away their presence were the small, rectangular windows with sliding covers adorning each and their subtle outlines in the wall. The west side appeared to possess an array of stone storage spaces– a large cabinet, a desk with a chest beneath it, shelf above it and elaborate chair before it, as well as a large standing shelf rack. The storage area was filled with myriad tools and supplies, ranging from surgical implements to a wide variety of alchemical ingredients, specimen containers, and Malediction's brionic vessels. In the middle was a forming bench– a large, adjustable, rotating bench commonly used by Maltricians, complete with straps, detachable panels for accessing the spine, limb clamps, suspension chains, and flesh hooks– and a few wheeled carts on either side of it. The entire room was spotless; a stark contrast to the foul, molded, and overgrown spaces they'd wandered through thus far.

Within the elegant chair before the desk sat a strange, withered looking man, and before Aric had collected his senses enough to say anything, the leafy, lizard-like woman from the dark forest flickered into view behind Själ and placed both of her hands upon her shoulders.

"...Hamartia~," she began, almost singing the name, her emerald gaze directed at the pale man on the other side of the room. "I brought you gifts!" Evanthia's words were as chipper and bubbly as a schoolgirl's.

"This one," she said, moving her head to either side of Själ in a theatrical sort of appraisal. "...this one's special– she's from that dragon village, one of the ones with the Grist organ."

"I know you were upset that Father ate all the others before you could get your hands on their Glamour organs, so I went and brought you another!" A cheshire grin drawn on her features now; the man she was speaking to appeared austere and stone faced, though there was a flicker of interest in his dark, dead eyes.

"Just don't…kill her. She's my plaything– but you can harvest whatever you'd like," Evanthia giggled.

"The man's got nothing special for you, I don't think~ but they're most fun as a pair…so when you're done I'd like them back…together." Her tone, this time, had shifted serious; a stark contrast to her previous whimsy.

"...and you two!" her words directed to the Fælnir now, "...I would advise you don't resist, if ever you wish to see your homes again."

But just as quickly as that harsh shift came, it went. "Ta~!" she said, her previous vim restored, before vanishing into a cloud of mist, then nothing at all once more.

Bizarrely, both Själ and Aric would feel mostly calm for the moment– a result of the pale man's Fathom; he'd linked to them both the second he'd detected their presence. The room, too, was steeped in his magic and responded to his will, with the door to the first cell on the eastern wall dragging open a moment later.

"You," he began, lifting an arm to point at Aric, voice a low, commanding whisper. "The cell."

His command was clear enough, and Aric acquiesced. He didn't understand what was happening, yet for some reason he didn't care; he felt safe, like he should trust the strange man. Once he'd entered the cell, the door closed once more.

On the other hand, Själ was still mostly herself, living within her own emotions– the main manipulation he'd imparted on her was the calming effect mean to prevent her from lashing out in anger. This was in large part for her own safety; she stood now within his Psychoplasm field, making aggression markedly unwise.

"And you, don't fret...Evanthia wants you alive, and I will respect that. Now, would you please lay down on the forming bench?" His request was given with a gesture to the piece of furniture in the middle of the room. And though his tone was for the most part cordial, it was woven with a commanding air, painting his request as a demand.

꧁══════════• ༺༉ { Evanthia / Aric / Vlassis / Hamartia} ༉༻•══════════꧂

꧁══════════• ༺༉ ❁ ❀ ❁ ༉༻•══════════꧂​

 

[Caelum]

"Hmm, corrupted exodus sounds like it might be right. They clearly have some kind of power that lets their magic work. I guess I never really thought of it before, but there probably are strange places where magic doesn't work properly." It was an unsettling thought and challenged Sjal's world view, but she didn't want to go down that rabbit hole.

"If we ever do find out the trick, I'll probably open up a portal to this accursed place and ask my dad incinerate everything," she thought, not wanting to say anything too threatening out loud under the assumption that she'd be overheard.

The next room looked quite odd. It was unlike any other she'd ever been in as she had never had surgery or been inside a hospital. A small clinic, sure, but those weren't equipped to do… whatever it was this place was. It gave off a very ominous vibe and made her want to leave. She took a step backwards but she was touched by the woman from before.

"Eeek!" Sjal shouted, nearly blinking away. She gritted her teeth and tried to calm herself as the woman talked to the man.

"Glamour organs… wait, the throat glands?" she said to herself. Her hands instinctively reached up to touch them. She knew they were there – it was how she'd verified that Caelum was her father. Supposedly it was a simple matter to activate her dormant powers, but she'd never bothered. She didn't really see the need to have them, but the implication of what she'd have to go through to have them removed was unsettling to say the least. She wanted to flee more than ever.

Strangely, her fight or flight instincts only lasted briefly. She didn't like it, but this was just something that she had to do to go home, no different than fighting a monster or being bored to death in a maze. Yes, everything would be alright if she just submitted.

She put her hand on her sword and moved to remove it. She knew she ought to attack the man, but she merely set it aside, along with the things in her pockets. Then, she made her way to the bench and sat down.

"I presume you're going to do some unspeakable things to me," she said curiously, "and I promise not to fight if you answer some questions for me. Who is this father? And are you lot his kids? Or did he make you?"

618

 

[Vicissitude]

Summer 04 year 124 of the third age​

Evanthia giggled, clearly delighted, at Själ's reaction to her appearance– she found joy in even the cheapest of scares.

But with her gone and Själ's acquiescence to Hamartia's command, the pale man paused for a moment, considering her questions. He had half a mind to simply ignore them and begin his work, as he did with most of his patients. In his mind, they weren't worth wasting breath on since, usually, they were scrapped for parts completely, or remade into something else entirely– so what was the point?

This was, at least, a bit different; Evanthia wanted this one to live for…some reason.

"That depends on where your line for 'unspeakable' is; I only mean to extract an organ from you," he said in a voice drained of emotion. "...but I suppose I can humor your curiosity, too."

"The 'Father' Evanthia has off-handedly mentioned refers to our leader– Father Atrum. The title is not literal. With the exception of Evanthia and her twin, we are all of disparate lineages. Granted, Father did reshape many of us from our previous mortal shells into what we are now." Hamartia appeared to hesitate, then sighed.

"It is…hard to explain; the title is an old custom, passed down by the Arche in an ode to our fallen Godhead– the Mother of Monsters, Pelezotz. Our leader is always 'Father' or 'Mother,'" his explanation delivered bluntly.

"Father Atrum has enacted a rite. To succeed in this rite he needs to feed; bodies, bodies, bodies…an endless supply. I would think that is to be your destiny– but I take it Evanthia has a plan of her own for you?" The slightest hint of his own curiosity crept into his words towards the end.

꧁══════════• ༺༉ { Evanthia / Aric / Vlassis / Hamartia} ༉༻•══════════꧂

꧁══════════• ༺༉ ❁ ❀ ❁ ༉༻•══════════꧂​

 

[Caelum]

Sjal was surprised to find that this man, or whatever he was, was not like Evanthia. He seemed more normal with an understandable motive. He simply wanted to take her organ out – no mention of torture or anything of the like. He could still have nefarious motives, but Sjal felt at ease. She of course didn't want to undergo surgery, but knowing that she would still live comforted her somewhat.

The information regarding Father, the twins, and the godhead was nice to know, even if it made little sense. Until recently she was just a normal girl being groomed to be a good soldier. Interplanar matters were so far above her level of comprehension, though she nodded thankfully at the man's honesty. It sounded like she and Aric had agreed to do something to help a truly terrible entity.

"She said that she'll play with us until she gets bored, and then we're to go fetch vokhai for Father." It felt odd for her to use the word like that, as if it were her father. She continued, "err… Pelezotz, I guess. We are mages. I'm an exodii and Aric over there can work some elemental magic. Maybe the intent is for us to work together to deliver them here but I'm not sure how that'll work. My portals don't seem to work right here. Things tend to break going through them."

She realized she was talking a lot more than necessary, but she felt like the moment she stopped the surgery would start. She managed to take a deep breath and steel herself for the inevitable. "Okay, whenever you're ready. Fuck I hope it doesn't hurt too much."

897

 

[Vicissitude]

Summer 04 year 124 of the third age​

Hamartia was aware that much of what he was saying would likely go over the girl's head. Many mortals, especially the young ones of the shorter lived races, knew precious little about the world around them, much less about planar matters– and further, even less about the realms of Godheads long dead.

Själ's answer had him exhale a breath that was halfway between a scoff and a laugh. "That is so…like her," he started. "...petulant as is her wont, but smart." Limited as Caligony's resources were, it was wise to start using whatever tactics they could to convince mortals to sacrifice one another to their cause.

However, there was a flicker of surprise over Hamartia's features when she mentioned that her Exodus didn't work properly– though it quickly faded. In truth, the only Exodii among their number was the abomination known as Zarakses, and that ancient entity had achieved apotheosis and become a Warpweaver even before Hamartia himself had been made Haemora. His magic always functioned flawlessly, as did all of the creations made from it (these creations being how the other Haemora traveled). Perhaps this was the difference? Only the consummate magic of the apotheosi could allow anyone in or out?

"Hm…I might ask you to show me what you mean about your portals after I extract your throat gland. Our resident Exodii has little issue," he said, speaking with the level-headed interest of a seasoned researcher.

The pale chirurgeon would then begin the process of meticulously strapping Själ's limbs to the forming bench, ensuring that she would not move– this, ultimately, benefited both parties, as it lowered her risk of self-inflicted injury and made it easier for Hamartia to work. "Don't worry too much, I don't care to deal with conscious patients." was all he'd say during this process, though he made zero attempt to sound at all reassuring.

He would then take a syringe and inject her in the shoulder. In the ensuing seconds, she would rapidly begin to feel drowsy before losing consciousness entirely. Hamartia was somewhat unique when compared to his colleagues; he did not revel in torture as many of them did. There was beauty, to him, in vivisection, in flayed flesh and in the creatures he created for his Necromantic experiments, but he didn't really care for the disruption of screaming, flailing, and other visceral reactions his work evoked when his patients were awake. This wasn't because he had any empathy for suffering, no– rather, from his perspective, those things were simply obnoxious and only served to slow him down.

From his vast wealth of experience, the pale man was as quick as he was fastidious. Though it'd been quite some time since he'd been in close proximity to anything possessing a Grist gland, he'd performed enough similar extractions of various bits and pieces that removing it was a simple task for him. Only a short incision– about an inch in length– would remain, sutured cleanly with a bone-white thread.

Själ would wake up unrestrained, though for her, it would be impossible to tell how long she had been asleep. If she looked around the room, she'd notice one of the previously empty, glyph painted, glass canisters was now filled with the same strange, semi-translucent crimson substance as others around it. She'd also spot a mass of flesh floating within, and if she didn't recognize it outright, it'd be easy enough for her to deduce that it was her throat gland.

Aware of all happenings within his Psychoplasm Field, Hamartia noticed immediately when she woke up. He was back at his desk in the upper west corner. "Before you go, make a small portal on the ground in front of me and another away from us both– preferably directed at an empty part of the room, near the cell doors. I want to see the errors of your Exodus for myself," he'd say, almost sounding impatient. He was aware that she'd be a bit out of sorts having just woken up, but he didn't particularly appear to care.

꧁══════════• ༺༉ { Evanthia / Aric / Vlassis / Hamartia} ༉༻•══════════꧂

꧁══════════• ༺༉ ❁ ❀ ❁ ༉༻•══════════꧂​

 

[Caelum]

Sjal was comforted by the fact that she wouldn't be awake, even if the man had come off as a little odd. It wasn't like she had a choice – he could do whatever the fuck he wanted and she wouldn't be able to stop him. Everything went black before she knew it.

When she woke her first instinct was to feel her throat. She felt the suture and wondered if she'd have a scar leftover. A silly thing to worry about, especially for someone who rarely found time to care about her appearance. She allowed her eyes to wander to her restraints and found that they were all undone. Then, she saw what was probably her excised organ. She looked away from it, just the thought of looking at something like that grossed her out.

She got to her feet and nodded. "Alright, I'll make the portal." She waved her hands in a circular motion and created holes in the fabric of space. They were as requested, one on the ground and the other near the cell doors.

"So, the last time I saw a living creature travel through one of these portals, they weren't in one piece when they came out the other side. I'm not sure how you would test this, outside of the obvious, painful way. I've no idea if something inanimate would be damaged – we haven't tested that yet."

1128

 

[Vicissitude]

Summer 04 year 124 of the third age​

The threads used in Själ's surgery would meld into her skin over the next few days. Treated as they were with brionics, she would be left scarless as a result– one would never tell her throat gland had been removed unless they went in there themselves to look.

Hamartia eyed the portals Själ had created with curiosity. From where he sat, they appeared similar enough to Zarakses' creations; the difference must occur as the object travels briefly through the Aetherium, then. The pale man stood, opened a drawer, and pulled out a clean, small sheet of what appeared to be gauze or some kind of bandage. Standing over the little portal, he dropped the cloth, watching intently as it floated through the air– then swiftly shifting his gaze to the other end. Strangely, the cloth made it through unscathed.

"Hm," was all he said before kneeling down beside the portal.

In the moments that followed, Hamartia would proceed to insert his hand into the portal. For most creatures, this would've been a major mistake– rather than poking out of the corresponding portal as it should, the man winced and a broken mass of flesh and bone fell to the ground with a wet splatter. Withdrawing his arm, he was left with a bloody stump, though his features appeared more curious than upset. In the ensuing seconds, the flesh at the end of the stump would appear to liquify and then rapidly regrow the missing appendage– once the process completed, he'd flex his fingers as if to test function before getting up and walking over to where his mangled hand had fallen.

"Fascinating," he began, demeanor calm, acting as if the injury he'd just endured was nothing more than a minor inconvenience. "Can't say I can offer much insight– our Exodii has no issues, but his mastery is unparalleled."

"Alas, I can't keep you– Evanthia would be vexed were I to commandeer her playthings and I've already collected what she's offered. You may go." The pale man spoke as he walked back to his desk, briefly waving his hand to open Aric's cell.

Hamartia wasn't sure what he'd even do if he had more time with the girl, other than, perhaps, forcing her to draw upon Alkahest along with her own power until she could make a portal with enough stability not to mangle whatever living flesh passed through it. Would that even work? And what if it didn't? He'd have to think about it, and perhaps if Evanthia didn't end up killing this one, he'd get the chance to do it. That, or, well, one of them could accept the mark of Exodus from Zarakses; if in that case their novice portals didn't work right, then it would at the very least prove that the problem is mastery, and not that Själ simply isn't Haemora.

The warrior appeared confused, though relieved to be free. When he locked eyes with Själ, that relief deepened– he'd worried she'd be dead, and that he would be next. He didn't speak, as if wary of saying anything in front of the stranger, though if Själ moved to leave the room, he'd be happy to follow.

If she did, she'd find that the next space they would walk into was a darkened hallway, not dissimilar to many they'd come across before. Immediately upon hearing the door close, though, Aric would speak, his gaze on the incision upon her neck. "What did he do?" He'd ask, voice showing some concern.

꧁══════════• ༺༉ { Evanthia / Aric / Vlassis / Hamartia} ༉༻•══════════꧂

꧁══════════• ༺༉ ❁ ❀ ❁ ༉༻•══════════꧂​

 

[Caelum]

Sjal watched the doctor, or who she assumed was some sort of doctor, do his little experiment. She gathered that solids could pass through just fine, which was a good thing to know. She hadn't risked her sword thusfar out of fear that it might come out broken into pieces, rendering her weaponless. She knew what would happen when Hamartia put flesh into the portal, but she didn't feel the need to warn him. He moved with purpose, sacrificing part of his own body.

Sjal let the portals close after that, and let out a sigh. She tried to hold in her displeasure for not being given any more useful information from what she assumed was the smartest person she'd encountered in this accursed place. She believed that he wasn't withholding information, plus she didn't exactly think that she could object. The man seemed to have supernatural control in this room of his, evidenced by how he opened the cell door from afar.

"Alright, we will get going then. Until we next meet," she said with a curt nod as she paired back up with Aric. If she had to pick someone to meet again it would be him, even though he had arguably done the most lasting damage to her. He was someone she could talk to without wanting to tear his eyes out.

"He took out my glands," Sjal explained to Aric as they went into the dark space. "I'm a half dragon. Well, I guess now I'm fully human until I find some more. Not that it matters, I was always hesitant to incite grist. Though, if I had known how to use that magic well, our time here might have been a lot easier."

She looked down the hallway as she walked. "That experiment was something, wasn't it? At least now we know we have an easy way out if we get tired of this madness. Just a hop and a skip through a portal and we're dead." She smiled grimly, wondering what the next room would hold for them.

1472

 

[Vicissitude]

꧁══════════• ༺༉ { Reviewed/Canon } ༉༻•══════════꧂​

Cælum [Själ]

+15 XP (1472 words)
-Loss of Grist Gland

Vicissitude

+30 XP (3k+ words)

As a reminder, Själ is free to restore her stolen Grist Gland through Master-level Draoidh or Devorare healing (or, I suppose, if she waits long enough, Nimhea would work).

꧁══════════• ༺༉ ❁ ❀ ❁ ༉༻•══════════꧂​

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