Velho
Approved Character
- Messages
- 225
- Race
- Æld'Norai
- Profession
- Ferrier
- Location
- AElheim
- Arcana
- Character Sheet
༺༉❁ Summer 67, year 124 of the third age ❁༉༻
<notes>
Since Nihilos’ Fall, the Haemora had embraced the God’s creations– Blights– at their first introduction. For them, this had been the gift of Null being bestowed upon their leader. By that point in time, the Arche of Caligony had fully embedded itself in the decaying Plane in a gambit to prevent its collapse while the remaining Cambion toiled away, attempting in vain to revitalize their beloved Mother of Monsters. Their efforts had maddened many of their number, and it was this sanity loss that allowed Nihilos an ingress into their ranks. The Stranger promised them a path to restore their realm, though It could not bring Pelezotz back. Desperate, they accepted the offer, and Malachai was blessed with Nihilos’ first Blight. For their efforts, they were rewarded with a Blight made in a loving ode to Pelezotz as their own Pact of Fleshwalking could no longer be spread in their current state.
Nihilos bid that Malachai be the one to choose upon whom this Blight– dubbed Nightwalker– would be first imposed upon, showing the man visions of the minds It was capable of tapping into. His prototype– the aforementioned Ulrik– ended up tying his people and the Æld’Norai together forevermore, though he was blissfully unaware of this until Blights had proliferated enough in Ælheim for Alíthea to obtain a proper foothold and establish contact with Caligony. From that point forward, the two Alíthean Demesnes became fast allies, with Ælheim’s branch providing Caligony with ample resources it was otherwise impossible for them to obtain on their own.
And deep into the night during dog days of Summer of 124, a gathering of Blighted had been orchestrated to discuss a proposal on the expansion of Alíthean influence, potentially the largest thus far: the Ascension of a Malachai Atrum and the conversion of Caligony into a Tumbledown. Each Plane already possessed a Tumbledown, with Antarok possessing multiple, but all of these were mere pockets of Planes; to overtake the whole of Caligony would be akin to creating several at once. As such, it would result in the birth of a Blighted safe haven that was both significantly larger and more defensible than any prior.
The present Blighted met within a grand temple sequestered away in the depths of Helheim, Ælheim’s Tumbledown. Cautious as they were, their meeting chamber was buried further below the temple’s maze-like passages, the exact path to it navigable only by the highest ranking Alítheans. The room was dimly lit by both candles and floating motes of fire, populated by a large table and just enough chairs for the occasion, all of which were ornate in design, grown from blackened wood and upholstered in deep, hues of wine befitting the status of those who now dwelt within.
Representing the Æld’Norai sat Obsidian Pentacle member Æsir, Duane fyn'Kjær Ulrik, their Podestà, the ancient Vænir, Reykr, and one of his favorite Scourge protégés, Vænir, Velho fyn'Seiðr Hespæros. The trio had gathered alongside the other four Pentacle Points and a representative of the Haemora, an entity who stated that they would like to be addressed simply as Nyredes.
With everyone settled and seated, the Daemon, Devorare Pentacle Point and scribe of Obsidian affairs, would be the one to open the meeting. “Nyredes comes to us with a call for aid,” he began, addressing everyone in the room.
Then, he’d look toward the Haemora and nod cheerfully, “...please, give voice to your desires.”
Addressing first the scribe, “...thank you,” then everyone, “...for agreeing to hear us out.” They’d pause for a moment, as if not sure how to phrase their message or perhaps made anxious from being in the presence of Alíthea’s rarely encountered leaders. “I am here on behalf of the Haemora as a collective and Caligony as a Plane,” they’d continue after another brief pause.
“Malachai is ready– or so indicate The Stranger’s whispers,” Nyredes spoke to the group. “We’ve been sourcing biomatter with which to feed him ourselves to the point where he is now considered to be largely immobile and barely coherent, hence why I am here in his stead– but our progress has been slow.” The half-faced Haemora spoke with a smooth, even cadence, effortlessly masking the desperation they held within.
“For this reason we request aid from the rest of Alíthea’s Demesnes, or, at least, those that are able to help. With his Ascension, we would give over Caligony to Nihilos, freeing our Arche and granting Alíthea a Tumbledown of heretofore unseen scale.” Setting their eyeless gaze on Reykr and Velho, “...Reykr, please state the reason for your presence.”
The strange, ancient Ælf smiled with a chuffed delight upon being given the spotlight. “Good now has't we corresponded; as Podestà of Ælheim, I h'reby solicit to pledge our aid toward their cause. I shall act as overseer.”
Gesturing towards Ulrik, “...beloved Pentacle Point Duane shalt puppeteer our military from the reflections, guaranteeing this endeav'r remaineth clandestine yet still make usth of Ælheim's brightest ignorants.”
Gesturing toward the other Ælven Scourge, “...and Velho, protégé of minth, shalt 'rganize our grades of Ferriers in 'rd'r to facilitate the transp'rt of forms f'r this purpose.”
Upon hearing this proposal, the five Points appeared at first with mixed expressions. Ulrik bore the same stone-faced austerity he always did, though he would nod to Reykr when his name was mentioned, indicating his support of and agreement with the proposed plan. Rhurok, ever the hesitant one despite his personal power and deep well of care for his fellow Blight bearers, feared the end, and so something of this grand scale to push Nihilos’ influence made him wary– for as much power as it may bring the cult as a collective, he knew that the end was always the Night Father’s goal. In stark contrast to his concern, Hyacinth Blooms-In-Twilight smiled all the way through, fangs bared. Zenawe’Nagast, Joyous Historian, appeared attentive, curious– his interest was piqued, clearly in favor, though evidently more willing to subdue his expressions than Hyacinth. The always pragmatic Polypora Salazar Herrera brought a hand to his chin in consideration, yet the answer was ultimately an easy one for him as well.
“You are well aware many of our Demesnes are stretched thin for resources, I am sure,” began Polyporra. “...but accounting for that, I see no reason to deny any given Demesne the option to spare that which they are willing.” The Gnome always spoke in a cool, analytical tone, though this was perpetually undermined by the high pitch of his voice.
Hyacinth giggled. “With Ælheim and Ælphyne, I'm not even sure they’ll need anyone else– we’ve plenty! …and I’m certain our Podestà will be more than amenable to the proposal as well; I will be so glad to bring it to her attention!” The Dryad spoke quickly and with manic enthusiasm, a strange, almost rabid nature to her voice.
“It would be a fool’s decision to balk at the potential of subsuming an entire Plane into a Tumbledown,” began Zenawe with his usual business-like cordiality, the tenor of his voice warm. “I will be happy to spread word to our remaining Podestà and tally what may be spared, if any, per Demesne.”
And lastly, there was Rhurok. The gnarled old Sidhe at first simply nodded. “...it would be what’s best for Alíthea…” his weak, melancholic voice made this sound almost like a concession.
Nyredes looked relieved, much as only a jaw could express the emotion. Full glad they were that their anxiety had been misplaced. The others were right; their proposal was certain to have been met with such positivity given the potential organization-wide benefits thereof are more than worth the requisite effort.
Gray lips smiled, “...glad as I am to have been approved, I must both thank and apologize to this august body for pulling you all away from your affairs given the length of this meeting.”
“W'rry not! I doth so adore the opp'rtunity to seeth sides of such comeliness all togeth'r in one cubiculo, and I am certes ev'ryone parts a similar sentiment.” Reykr responded first.
Zenawe nodded with his odd, ever present yet distinctly polite smile. Rhurok and Ulrik softened their features for a moment as if in agreement with the scribe.
“Much as we all may be busy, meetings of this nature are important, never doubt that–” Polypora began.
“...to claim that face-to-face news of such fantastic scale might be a waste of time is preposterous,” Hyacinth interjected, eyes wide with enthusiasm. “We are glad you called upon us.”
“Indeed,” Zenawe continued, taking this opportunity to segue into the meeting’s conclusion. “...but with that, the record has been made and the proposal may proceed. All of you may leave at your leisure.”
Nihilos bid that Malachai be the one to choose upon whom this Blight– dubbed Nightwalker– would be first imposed upon, showing the man visions of the minds It was capable of tapping into. His prototype– the aforementioned Ulrik– ended up tying his people and the Æld’Norai together forevermore, though he was blissfully unaware of this until Blights had proliferated enough in Ælheim for Alíthea to obtain a proper foothold and establish contact with Caligony. From that point forward, the two Alíthean Demesnes became fast allies, with Ælheim’s branch providing Caligony with ample resources it was otherwise impossible for them to obtain on their own.
And deep into the night during dog days of Summer of 124, a gathering of Blighted had been orchestrated to discuss a proposal on the expansion of Alíthean influence, potentially the largest thus far: the Ascension of a Malachai Atrum and the conversion of Caligony into a Tumbledown. Each Plane already possessed a Tumbledown, with Antarok possessing multiple, but all of these were mere pockets of Planes; to overtake the whole of Caligony would be akin to creating several at once. As such, it would result in the birth of a Blighted safe haven that was both significantly larger and more defensible than any prior.
The present Blighted met within a grand temple sequestered away in the depths of Helheim, Ælheim’s Tumbledown. Cautious as they were, their meeting chamber was buried further below the temple’s maze-like passages, the exact path to it navigable only by the highest ranking Alítheans. The room was dimly lit by both candles and floating motes of fire, populated by a large table and just enough chairs for the occasion, all of which were ornate in design, grown from blackened wood and upholstered in deep, hues of wine befitting the status of those who now dwelt within.
Representing the Æld’Norai sat Obsidian Pentacle member Æsir, Duane fyn'Kjær Ulrik, their Podestà, the ancient Vænir, Reykr, and one of his favorite Scourge protégés, Vænir, Velho fyn'Seiðr Hespæros. The trio had gathered alongside the other four Pentacle Points and a representative of the Haemora, an entity who stated that they would like to be addressed simply as Nyredes.
With everyone settled and seated, the Daemon, Devorare Pentacle Point and scribe of Obsidian affairs, would be the one to open the meeting. “Nyredes comes to us with a call for aid,” he began, addressing everyone in the room.
Then, he’d look toward the Haemora and nod cheerfully, “...please, give voice to your desires.”
Addressing first the scribe, “...thank you,” then everyone, “...for agreeing to hear us out.” They’d pause for a moment, as if not sure how to phrase their message or perhaps made anxious from being in the presence of Alíthea’s rarely encountered leaders. “I am here on behalf of the Haemora as a collective and Caligony as a Plane,” they’d continue after another brief pause.
“Malachai is ready– or so indicate The Stranger’s whispers,” Nyredes spoke to the group. “We’ve been sourcing biomatter with which to feed him ourselves to the point where he is now considered to be largely immobile and barely coherent, hence why I am here in his stead– but our progress has been slow.” The half-faced Haemora spoke with a smooth, even cadence, effortlessly masking the desperation they held within.
“For this reason we request aid from the rest of Alíthea’s Demesnes, or, at least, those that are able to help. With his Ascension, we would give over Caligony to Nihilos, freeing our Arche and granting Alíthea a Tumbledown of heretofore unseen scale.” Setting their eyeless gaze on Reykr and Velho, “...Reykr, please state the reason for your presence.”
The strange, ancient Ælf smiled with a chuffed delight upon being given the spotlight. “Good now has't we corresponded; as Podestà of Ælheim, I h'reby solicit to pledge our aid toward their cause. I shall act as overseer.”
Gesturing towards Ulrik, “...beloved Pentacle Point Duane shalt puppeteer our military from the reflections, guaranteeing this endeav'r remaineth clandestine yet still make usth of Ælheim's brightest ignorants.”
Gesturing toward the other Ælven Scourge, “...and Velho, protégé of minth, shalt 'rganize our grades of Ferriers in 'rd'r to facilitate the transp'rt of forms f'r this purpose.”
Upon hearing this proposal, the five Points appeared at first with mixed expressions. Ulrik bore the same stone-faced austerity he always did, though he would nod to Reykr when his name was mentioned, indicating his support of and agreement with the proposed plan. Rhurok, ever the hesitant one despite his personal power and deep well of care for his fellow Blight bearers, feared the end, and so something of this grand scale to push Nihilos’ influence made him wary– for as much power as it may bring the cult as a collective, he knew that the end was always the Night Father’s goal. In stark contrast to his concern, Hyacinth Blooms-In-Twilight smiled all the way through, fangs bared. Zenawe’Nagast, Joyous Historian, appeared attentive, curious– his interest was piqued, clearly in favor, though evidently more willing to subdue his expressions than Hyacinth. The always pragmatic Polypora Salazar Herrera brought a hand to his chin in consideration, yet the answer was ultimately an easy one for him as well.
“You are well aware many of our Demesnes are stretched thin for resources, I am sure,” began Polyporra. “...but accounting for that, I see no reason to deny any given Demesne the option to spare that which they are willing.” The Gnome always spoke in a cool, analytical tone, though this was perpetually undermined by the high pitch of his voice.
Hyacinth giggled. “With Ælheim and Ælphyne, I'm not even sure they’ll need anyone else– we’ve plenty! …and I’m certain our Podestà will be more than amenable to the proposal as well; I will be so glad to bring it to her attention!” The Dryad spoke quickly and with manic enthusiasm, a strange, almost rabid nature to her voice.
“It would be a fool’s decision to balk at the potential of subsuming an entire Plane into a Tumbledown,” began Zenawe with his usual business-like cordiality, the tenor of his voice warm. “I will be happy to spread word to our remaining Podestà and tally what may be spared, if any, per Demesne.”
And lastly, there was Rhurok. The gnarled old Sidhe at first simply nodded. “...it would be what’s best for Alíthea…” his weak, melancholic voice made this sound almost like a concession.
Nyredes looked relieved, much as only a jaw could express the emotion. Full glad they were that their anxiety had been misplaced. The others were right; their proposal was certain to have been met with such positivity given the potential organization-wide benefits thereof are more than worth the requisite effort.
Gray lips smiled, “...glad as I am to have been approved, I must both thank and apologize to this august body for pulling you all away from your affairs given the length of this meeting.”
“W'rry not! I doth so adore the opp'rtunity to seeth sides of such comeliness all togeth'r in one cubiculo, and I am certes ev'ryone parts a similar sentiment.” Reykr responded first.
Zenawe nodded with his odd, ever present yet distinctly polite smile. Rhurok and Ulrik softened their features for a moment as if in agreement with the scribe.
“Much as we all may be busy, meetings of this nature are important, never doubt that–” Polypora began.
“...to claim that face-to-face news of such fantastic scale might be a waste of time is preposterous,” Hyacinth interjected, eyes wide with enthusiasm. “We are glad you called upon us.”
“Indeed,” Zenawe continued, taking this opportunity to segue into the meeting’s conclusion. “...but with that, the record has been made and the proposal may proceed. All of you may leave at your leisure.”
