The Scribe's Story

The world around them seemed to go dark, very very dark in fact as Iziti entered into the world of Primaris' memories. Things were scrambled at first, skipping from point to point as the boy himself was trying to process just what exactly was going on with the world, his own memories were jumbling across each other in a sporadic display of thoughts and sound that hardly seemed to connect in any simple fashion that could be understood by any sane mind.

A brief flash of sunlight glittered off of the summer snows as it settled on the mountaintops. A far younger and far thinner Primaris stood, bare chested against the cold, shivering violently against the iron manacles around his slender throat weighed down on the raw and cracked skin underneath where it had scraped away his bare skin. There was a hissing sound behind him as coals were shifted by an iron poker and a lump of nervousness caught in his throat just moments before a rough hand clasped down painfully tight on his shoulder. He only had a moment to try to draw a frightened breath before a terrible pain exploded across his back along with the stench of searing flesh as he was marked, branded now and forever as nothing more than property. A slave.

The thoughts and pained memories of that day shifted and melted away like a house of sand in the morning tide, colours swirling and melding until they reformed once more into something new. He was stood outside, the snow all around him once more and the cold, still present but far less biting now against the thick robes that clung around him. He was knelt, along with a half dozen of his fellow serfs, behind his master, holding clasped in his hand was a small lantern that shone with a pale blue weirlight. He knew from what little he had been permitted to read that this only happened in the presence of beings of magic, no doubt as a result of being so close to his Magos, who stood before a great statue, arms raised as though he were trying to embrace it. They were knelt in a temple built of onyx and marble, with twisting pillars which held crawling serpents of ivory fastened upon them holding up nothing for there was no roof in this most holy of places. Primaris' knew he was supposed to keep his face down, he was not worthy of looking upon that statue- the statue of the Alovai, God of Gods, He who Guides, but he couldn't resist the simple pull. It was nothing more than a quick glance up but it was enough to sear the image into his brain. The statue was carved out of granite and it seemed the black robes of the Alovai were swirling around his majesty even though they were fixed in place, one hand was outstretched as though he were leaning forward to pull a friend up from the dirt and the muck of the world. And in that featureless face were affixed a pair of large yellow sapphires that shone like demons of nightmares in the faint blue light clutched in his fearful hands.

And then once again the memory shifted and tore away again, everything turned darker still as the blue light was replaced with a faint orange glow and those yellow lights seemed affixed before him... And yet... Now, the images before them weren't through Primaris' eyes, but rather from next to him. For Primaris' stood there, next to Primaris' One looked at the other who stared forwards, frozen but for a moment.
"What? But I'm... There? How?" His head snapped away from the memory of himself to look over to Iziti, a confused look in his eyes only for his mouth to fall open and him to step backwards a short step as his attention was drawn to something behind the boy.

There stood, with the plain and ordinary spear only just being discarded from gloved hands to be planted tip first within the very stone of the tower itself was the Alovai, looking every bit as he remembered from moments ago. A breath caught in his throat as the memory resumed once more, a memory that had only just been lived for himself moments ago. Just as his past self had done and still did next to him, he remained fixed in place, being utterly unable to tear his eyes away from the baleful golden eyes set within that mask of black.

He heard the same words that the ancient being had said to him only moments ago, hearing them with fresh ears gave him no clearer understanding of just who exactly who it was he was supposed to find. As the Alovai passed by Iziti without even breaking his stride at their presence he wondered whether this was the person he was supposed to seek out, it was clearly a being with great magical power and that no doubt elevated him far beyond Primaris' status. Thankfully it seemed the past version of himself and the Alovai didn't even know they were there as the memory continued onwards, and it was no small sense of trepidation that clutched the boys heart as he saw the masked beings hand lazily raise up to the past version of himself's face. And just as it had before, a searing pain tore through his entire being as the gloved fingers were pressed against the bare skin of his past selves forehead. It lasted just as long as it had the first time and was no less unpleasant for having experienced it before.

Even as he watched the conversation come to where he expected it to close suddenly as it had before something strange happened. It continued past where he should be able to remember. Where before everything had gone black and he had suddenly come to his senses in some strange bed on another world things carried onwards. Where the conversation abruptly ended he saw his own past self crumple onto the floor, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he collapsed. The Alovai looked down at the white robed boy as he lay upon the ground for a moment before slowly turning on his heel and looking directly and purposefully at Iziti, cold contempt glowering within his golden eyes before everything once more went crashing into darkness with a feeling as though the memory was being forced close and would not open again.

"I see..."

Iziti was a little shocked...or maybe impressed, at Primaris. So he is not a normal human afterall...just physically he seems normal...unless, that thing did that on purpose...perhaps, in case anyone did go and do this?

Iziti knew that it was impossible for the Scribe to know where they were, who they were, and so on. In addition to that being a private viewing, it was impossible for anyone to have seen where they were, as it was a random placement and they could move around in the area containing the memory. In other words, he must have gotten lucky. Iziti did not panic and paid it no further mind, turning back towards Primaris.

That space at the end seemed interesting though, and Iziti sensed something...familiar?...about it.

"I hope you have some sort of detection ability" Iziti said, as he shrugged. "I hate to tell you, but that description described quite a few people here".

The timing...I wonder...

"What is it, Iziti?"

Zakar's voice entered his head naturally, without any energy or link. This was a secure private telepathic channel.

This guy...might have been sent to monitor or get close to Atrix...

"Atrix...you mean Millen's son?!"

Or Millen himself, or the headmaster, or such. But Atrix only just was discovered and enrolled, so it feels likely.

Yes, Iziti and Zakar had a good idea of who Primaris was sent to monitor. Zakar was a prince of the Rosetta Kingdom. And he knew about Millen, and the true story about what happened. So did the rest of the Royal Family once they reached a certain age, and a few others they trusted to help. They only discovered what really happened between The Hero and the Demon King afterwards, and by that time many crimes had already been committed, including against the Demon King himself. So, they helped Millen fade into a life of whatever he wanted.

Of course, they did this all discreetly, so the help was not that big. But it was enough for Millen to eventually sneak away on his own and not be bothered by people, everyone thinking the Demon King is dead.

As for Iziti, he knew because he occasionally worked for the Royal Palace. That was why he and his siblings had been able to show up here and attend. They still avoided all coming at once to prevent being found out, so many where scattered all over. But it meant they had a place to kick up their feet and take a breath. Iziti was the only one who possessed a power to detect Demon King Blood, no one else did, so when they were contacted by the Headmaster, Iziti was chosen to use examination on Atrix. Of course, to use it at full power he had to directly see Atrix's whole body without obstruction, which the Headmaster helped with.

"So, it seems like you have not eaten in quite awhile. Should we all go to the cafeteria?"

"Errr, Zakar, I should probably check on my roommate first. Besides, I want to tell him what to say in case my brother stops by. Otherwise, things could get messy".

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Iviri looked at the man. First, it was with shock. Then, a bit of paying attention. Then there was a bit of understanding. But there was also rage.

"Violence? You call this violence?"

Iviri looked at the one in front of him with his teeth clenched.

"You think peace is that easy to acquire?! You...you don't understand a thing about people..."

"Then in exchange for causing a huge uproar, why not show him as punishment?"

Suddenly, the conversation was interrupted by a white and gold tiger with lightning around it, staring down at both of them.

"Astera?!"

"Its partially your fault this all started. Or do I need to make you by force?"

Iviri looked at the tiger, his brother's Spirit Guardian, a little more before turning off his combat form. He immediately held his towel so it was in front of him, but Iviri was closer then before. Close enough for Quintin to see surgical scars all over his body. Most of them if not all of them would seem unnecessary.

"You are lucky" Iviri said as he found his stuff and quickly put them on after creating a wall using his power to project energy shields. "You get to at least have a chance to try and be what you want. Not everyone gets that. And don't think you know how bad violence can get, or that peace is easy to acquire".

Iviri finally stepped out again, fully dressed.

"Because you never know what someone lower might have gone through".

Ruuka watched the world of Origin progress and flourish, as it entered a new age. And certainly, it appeared to be an interesting age as well. Not just because Ruuka pulled the Dark Continent out of the void, which in truth was a continent larger then most of the others, but also the appearance of a new Demon King, and the "reawakening" of that Demon King's father, Demon King Millen, happened. Additionally, others from outside were traveling to Origin, and things were shifting and changing.

Ruuka was not limited to Origin, he could access anywhere and everywhere through the void. But Origin had a stronger connection, and was special. And Ruuka decided that it would be best to keep at least one planet away from those other superpowers and Eldritch beings, a place where people could be safe from their influence...and where Ruuka could watch chaotic and interesting things happen unhindered.

Which is why, when he detected that person meddling about, Ruuka was extremely peeved. He might not be as peeved if it was just some god, or other power, since it was something minor. But no, it was someone Ruuka disliked and distrusted immediately. Although Ruuka himself might not do anything if a monster army tried to overrun Origin, he would at least give the people the ability to have a chance of victory. Ruuka would not guarantee win or lose, but sometimes he interfered to make things more interesting. As such, while there were some who called him a benevolent god, and others who called him a malicious god, the people who might be most accurate would be those that called him neutral.

Of course, Ruuka was actually an existence higher then gods, so that was inaccurate too.

He immediately summoned this entity with the following message:

"What the fuck are you up to?"

A point within the Void seemed to warble in on itself, folding over in a strange way only for the effect, that seemed almost like that of a heat mirage on a blissful summers day to end. It seemed as though the spot of darkness was unchanged, still remaining perfectly black, untarnished by light or colour or sound or being, a moment of perfect nothingness. That was of course until one noticed the pair of amber eyes that seemed almost to be golden and then the thin strands of silver hair like that of starlight in midwinter that drifted down from underneath the hooded head.

There was a soft, pleasant chuckle that emanated from somewhere within the figure, as it seemed the entity known to some in some distant world by a mirade of names had indeed come to investigate who had called for him. The laugh that carried forth was one filled with warmth and kindness, one that would normally be accompanied with a sweet smile had there not been the factor of the mask covering his face such that only his almost golden eyes were the only part of his body that was exposed to be seen, not even the flesh around his eyes were there.

"Ah Ruuka, I had wondered how very long it would take for you to notice me, I must say you do take your time. I was expecting you days ago, I do hope nothing has been... Delaying you, hmmm? No matter, time waits for nobody. Now in answer to your question, I'm not entirely sure what you mean, last I was aware I was preparing to make good my invitation to go and meet some utterly delightful vampires. They do know how to throw a fine display of a gala do they no?"

The masked man stepped forwards, walking along a path of small rocks that seemed to fly up to meet his feet as he looked around at the expanse of the Void about him, it was the sort of slow walk of a man appraising fine art, hands behind back and a sort of calm and hooded look in his eyes as he all but drank in the beauty before him. That same look didn't seem to be in the masked mans eyes, rather one of boredom, one of strained attempts to keep away tiredness that one might have at something worryingly predictable.

"Tell me. I'm sure there is a very particular reason you have requested my presence no? I do not recall doing anything to in any way inconvenience you, so why is it you feel the need to inconvenience me? One would think this almost.... An ambush of sorts." He gave a soft chuckle as he finally brought his golden eyes to look upon Ruuka.

The Scribe was nowhere near Ruuka's favorite person. In fact, the words Ruuka had to describe Scribe were "Uninteresting", "Boring", and "Lame". However, he knew Scribe's track record, as well as the remains of a few planets.

"Oh, don't act coy. All it does is make you look like an idiot".

Ruuka stands up, shifting from the form he usually takes to one of a Dragon.

"I know you have something active over in Astrius. I am also aware of your more active movements lately".

His form just seemed to dissolve into the void, and then his new form appeared behind Scribe in the appearance of Scribe himself.

"Honestly, I normally wouldn't care all that much. Hell, I had way more important and interesting things and people then you to deal with. But the situation is sensitive at the moment".

Suddenly, the void itself seemed to shift and change. The platforms grew and shrank, dissolving and undissolving, and then a new island in the void appeared before Scribe, with a couch that Ruuka was sitting on, using his most popular form.

"After all, there is quite a number of far more interesting people then you active at the moment".

Notably, nothing Ruuka said was a lie. And he was a bit concerned about the situation, but also excited. He was aware of the movements of CR, Crimson Reaper, a being who could possibly cut down both Ruuka and Scribe. The Demon Kings were also beings who could do that though, as Degredation could actually degrade all of their immunities, resistances, and so on. Ruuka was truly excited right now because in this current age, just because someone was powerful like him and Scribe, didn't mean they could not be defeated. Pure power and ability could be overcome now.

That meant, each fight, each conflict, was now far more interesting then before. In this new age, there was now always someone who could defeat you, which meant no one stood at the peerless top.

Except maybe Crimson if he bothered too, but that lovable idiot probably would never care for or think of that.

The masked man simply stood there, unmoving as Ruuka shifted from one form to another, one moment a fearsome dragon that would be enough to strike fear into the hearts of any mortal man then again to appear almost a perfect mirror of the hooded figure himself. Almost. There was a particular lack of the spark within this mimicry, a paltry forgery in comparison. He remained silent, still and calm as Ruuka spoke, almost as though he was speaking to nobody. All that changed was the look in his ever present eyes, where moments ago there was the look of a being who was busying himself enjoying fine art, now there was only the bored light of a teacher trying to teach children who would not pay any heed.

"Your reputation does not do you justice." He spoke after a moment, the strange accent that sounded both familiar and alien in his voice doing a perfect job of hiding away the tones of tired indignation at the sight before him. "I had been lead to believe there was being of something close to being impressive and mighty, instead I find.... A petulant child trying to something greater than his own imagination. You can probably imagine my sorrow at such a poor display." He sighed, shaking his head with a clear sense of disappointment.

"Now if you are perfectly finished with this paltry attempt to be... Impressive? Intimidating? Honestly I cannot say for certainty which one it is and I simply do not care enough to try to decipher it either. Your concerns for this academy, admirable though it is are for the better part misplaced. I can tell you now that I have never personally set foot within the academy and of course you know that in this place I am unable to tell anything but.... The most wholesome of truths." He spoke with a pleasant tone in his voice, as though there was a charming grin of a clever salesman under the expressionless black mask of his.

"And as for your notable dismissal of my being interesting, I hardly see wherein that has ever been my intention. It is the realm of the vain and the self assured that they deem themselves to be so concerned that being 'interesting' to be any way of importance. Concern yourself with that if you so wish, I will endeavour to exact results rather than stroking the egos of the world." He chuckled to himself as though there was some joke which Ruuka was not aware of. "But tell me, if so partaken by a great many concerns which would sooner draw your eye, why would you spend so much time and effort in simply talking to me? You know as well as I that you remain impotent to affect me, so is this some attempt at a power play? Or is it you seek to glean from me a certain knowledge of the events to come?"

"Think what you want" Ruuka told him, as he suddenly appeared at his side. "But perhaps first, some insight. This is the void, which flows everywhere and nowhere. Connected to and isolated from everyone. Its a place of contradiction, yet is always cohearant and the same. It is a place and not a place, a time and not a time, the place where all dreamers dream, and where those awake find themselves pulled towards. And I am its owner, inhabitant, and it itself in a way. All of that is true, but none of it is quite correct. You should understand what I mean".

Appearing in front of Scribe now, Ruuka stared into the eyes of the Scribe.

"^&%#$%#...sorry, there are a few new spirits of the void, so instead of using your first name, I should probably just use Scribe".

He then took out a book from nowhere, and began to read something on it...but it was written in something completely unintelligible except for Ruuka.

"And this is not me being impressive, scary, or daunting. Such tactics would be rather pointless. But I am the void, and also I am its manager, king, and whatever you call the existence higher then a god...it has no word in this reality it seems, but I suppose....%%&$$%%...would be right, if that language could be used in this reality...anyways, as people dream, sometimes the void gets effected, and I feel it. But I also don't. It effects me yet it doesn't. The concept would take too long to explain, so lets just cut to the chase..."

Almost in an odd fashion, Scribe might sense a shift in the void...in how things flowed...it was hard to tell because the place he was in was different from any and every previous reality, and even the rest of reality from the MV. It was older, darker, colder...and this shift was as if it had changed feelings.

"I normally wouldn't be bothered to contact people as powerful as you since I find those people boring, but in addition to what I noticed, there have been a number of other anomalies lately...Azethoth suddenly starting to wake up out of nowhere and devour things, new Demon King's getting born when the chances are impossible or at least, astronomically unlikely, and then other...subtler pulses...throughout reality. So, I want to know. What are you planning?"

Ruuka did not outright say it, but the way he spoke would have a bit of a heavy implication that he wanted to know what Scribe was up to because either A: Ruuka believed Scribe was responsible for something that might lead to Multiversal Destruction, or at least Origin Destruction, or B: That Scribe was only involved with some of it. If it was B, if Ruuka learned what Scribe was up to, he could at least focus on the more immediate danger, though he did not trust Scribe enough to stop keeping an eye on him.

"The fact you sent him at the same time as that too...an interest in the Demon King Blood?"

And Ruuka was also guessing his motives, but this couldn't exactly be called fair. Ruuka was also observing Atrix after all, because Atrix interested him. Atrix was an irregularity, having been born to Demon King Millen and a random girl from a nomadic tribe. Someone seemingly generic and kept away from some higher advancements, someone who had old knowledge...and protected from being learned of so easily.

So Ruuka's guess had some bias in it also.

The masked being once more remained silent as Ruuka spoke, only sighing inwardly as the other enigmatic entity tried to explain the idea of this place. Judging by the sheer lack of surprise he showed in the explanation it seemed he was perfectly aware of the inner workings of the Void. No doubt, though the fascinated look at once been captured within his golden eyes it was not something he was so unused to seeing.

A chuckle did escape from him at the mention of Azethoth however, one that cause him to shake his head in amusement at the idea of the Outer God awakening.
"Ah Azethoth, and here I was under the impression the legends said that a being such as that were to view this paltry universe as but a flash of light of colour. It would seem that the blind can indeed see if but for a fools moment." He mused almost silently to himself as he once more lost interest in what Ruuka was saying.

"So I want to know. What are you planning. The fact you sent him at the same time as that too...an interest in the Demon King Blood?"

There was a pause that seemed to stretch out into the Void as the note hung silently between them. And after a brief moment the hooded figure actually openly laughed at the question as though it were a charming tale told at some sweet dinner table.
"Ah, what a chance that would be. It must be astronomically small that I would send anything at the same time you deem something interesting to be happen would you not agree?"

He began to walk away through the Void, the stones once more shifting and raising to meet his questing feet as he stepped through the emptiness. "Ah to know what others are planning, it is an ability many have sought after and on that many indeed have come to regret forthwith for the short nearsightedness of their folly. Do you truly wish to know all the paths that stretch before as I do? It is no simple thing I assure you, many things that once were set in stone are made so uncertain by one thing or another. Left or right can change a day or a lifetime, a word can swirl the heart into great joy, music of a most alien source can raise a plague from within ones soul. It is all very fascinating to me, this ever shifting ebb and flow that is time."

The masked entity paused for a moment to stand watch as a tumbling rock spun by, shedding tiny shards with its passing as it slowly slipped past his face. A sigh once more escaped from somewhere within him. "This place is entirely insufficient for my interests it seems. Hmmm, but I sense in you a great deal of concern for... The underdog as you insist upon it. I will not say I do not intend them harm and I will not say I intend them kindness. My intentions are simply to further the natural way of this... Plane you beings have come to cling upon. Of course, there is a greater concern than my attempts to bolster this place from the threats that so seek to undo it. Hmmm, she will come here, eventually. And I assure you that once she does you would sorely regret not permitting me to act unprohibited. Though you know as well as I you cannot prevent me from acting you could perhaps interfere with a conflict that stretches back so far beyond your understanding it would take as long to explain as it would to remedy your interference. If you wish to know my plans... Simply sit back and enjoy watching them unfold, if you will be able to endure anything that could.... Befall your precious Origin."

Ruuka just silently listened and absorbed what the Scribe said. It was not of compliance or obedience, but a simple sharp look of listening. Ruuka was not a fan of the Scribe, but he was not some fool either. He just acted according to his own will, and to the will of the void. Although, he was the void. The concept did not have a true explanation.

But after letting the Scribe speak for what seemed like forever, Ruuka just smiled as a weird lighthouse on a floating island moved past them.

"Well, of course I would want to know. Because knowing what someone wants is infinitely more important then knowing what will happen".

Ruuka existed, lorded over, and was The Void. He knew about the paths one could take, the odds of those paths. However...

"Those paths change all the time".

Ruuka was old enough, wise enough, and smart enough to know many things, such as the fact no matter how much one tried, the future was not set in stone, and any precognition ability was unable to adapt to the flow of Fate. After all, not just Ruuka, but other beings had the power to change how the flow worked. All of the futures the Scribe had seen, there was always a chance they would all crumble and a new one, unseen by any prophet, and psychic, any god, or even beings on their own levels had forseen. The future and Fate were unpredictable, and it was truly impossible to know for certain what would happen.

"But, oh silly one, you seemed to forget. I never act unless its necessary. No, my main purpose I made for myself is seeing how others acted".

If one was to debate who was right and better in this situation, that person would be an idiot. There was no real right and wrong here, but simply belief and possibilities. It was possible they were both wrong, or both right. Maybe they both had half of it right, the half the other got wrong. No being was perfect, not even them.

Ruuka had many many abilities he trained up, developed, or acquired in some way, and many things were just there when he first started existing. But time and time again, Ruuka had seen the odds change. He had seen things that were outside all prediction, the impossible become possible. So while he did not doubt Scribe, he did know that the final outcome could be beyond anything they could see or predict.

In fact, Ruuka's own ability that he used the most could do exactly that. By gifting those born weak, or suffering, people who had no power, abilities and techniques, they could make an impact and change the very flow of Destiny and Fate. Every time he did this, futures changed and sometimes even on a grand scale.

"But you must realize some of this already. The reason I speak of it is not just for you...that was just to get us closer on the same page. No, the reason I brought this up was to learn something. And now I do...that there is someone else moving in the dark, and it seems we are both unaware of who that is so far. I usually am disinterested in powerful beings...but this is a rather unique situation. And it seems..."

Suddenly, Ruuka held out his hand and crushed it into a fist. But not at Scribe, but the lighthouse. As it was obliterated, a strange feeling could be sensed from it.

"...they are intent with watching us as well. How interesting indeed, given the amount of beings capable of doing that...is nearly non-existant. But they were fools if they thought I would not notice. Accessing the void is one thing, but no one can enter the void stealthily. I will always notice. Anyways, it seems that this might be the most interesting thing to happen in a long time. Seems like fun".

The masked figures golden eyes stared outwards, glowing from within with some strange hungry light as he gazed upon the lighthouse that drifted through the emptiness of the void. It was always lighthouses in these places it seemed, there was almost always a lighthouse. He would have chuckled at not the inevitability of such a thing appearing before the pair. When the lighthouse suddenly crumbled in on itself from but a simple gesture from Ruuka he didn't so much as even blink, this was far from the first time he had seen a display of power just being thrown around and it was similarly not even the greatest he had seen. The masked figure simply looked at the crumbling ruin for a moment more before his eyes drifted away through the emptiness of the Void once more.

"it would seem then, that there are a great deal many more threats than to be accounting for within this realm of yours. There are more beings that elude both of our sights than you realise, or indeed I know of just yet. It would seem such a fate ties all beings within such a fine web of action to be so impossible to untie as damnable to occur. It does not surprise me that such a threat does make itself known as the trail grows thinner, such is the way of nature. The strong attract the strong after all."

The hooded entity stepped forwards once more, heading in the direction of the ruined lighthouse as it finally finished falling apart. A loose stone suddenly soared out of the debris, no doubt projected by the crumbling of the large building. The chunk of rock flew forwards weightlessly with the idle fury of some great beast directly in the path of the entity as he walked forwards, seeming almost to notice the danger as it came closer with every second. And then the rock, almost half the size of the man, collided with him. But instead of being sent flying by the force of the flying stone it instead suddenly averted its course and went soaring off into the distant sky, the only sign of the cause of it's passing was the trailing gloved hand of the entity as it lazily back handed it away from his face.

"There is a storm coming, a oft prescribed term indeed, and not too uncommon to be attributed to an event so under it's deserving." The figure spoke in his strange accent as though he hadn't just thrown a boulder halfway across the Void without noticing it. "Indeed it is one that is to be upon this realm, and a storm for which I cannot contain, nor any halt nor hinder its coming. Perhaps we are able to in time prepare should we be so blessed. But it would seem even the wise cannot see all ends, things are moving apiece faster than should be, beings that ought not wake are stirring outside of the natural order. This perturbs me greatly but alas it would seem such a thing is bound unto fate beyond our control. Be wary and be prepared, for the darkness that is to come will no doubt seek out this place first to sate her hunger. Should I be disturbed from my intentions I fear the preparations to slow that which comes will be unattainable. You cannot stand that which is coming alone, none of us can. Pray then, Ruuka, pray to whatever you hold faith in, for everything in this Plane shall know the dark before the end."

As he finished talking, the masked figure seemed simply to vanish from existence, it was as though he was stood there for one frame of time and then simply gone. There wasn't even a sign that he had even been stood in the Void, no echo of his voice nor shudder of his power remained. It was as though he had simply stopped existing in an instance.

"The slipping of the shadow from over the Cursed Wood, it does not bode well for those of us who reside inside..."

Atop a spire, five monks stood in a circle. In the center, the carcass of a creature unrecognizable due to it's condition of heavy rot. Their shadows stretched inward towards the rotting creature. The Monks synchronized on a single note as the shadows made contact with the rotted creature, and suddenly it burst into black flame. The Monks were transfixed, chanting without relent, until there was nothing but a charred mark on the stone floor in a peculiar shape, with three circles, and perhaps some arrows. Smoke rose up towards the hole in the ceiling, black wisps escaping towards the waning moon.

"I find it interesting, you know.." The disembodied voice shattered the intervening silence in the wake of such an offering. A horrible, haunting mix of ephemeral, and hate incarnate it echoed from wall to wall inside the Monk's spire, reverberating off stone, and bone alike. "For a great while now have I watched, every chant, every sacrifice, every illustrious foul deed!" It pitched with a fever not unlike that of a preacher, growing ever louder until each syllable pounded the very soul. "Like maggots in puterence you've writhed, and clamored. I've seen your struggles each, and every time you've attempted to claw your ways out of the muck.."

The heavy, but wistful column began to churn, and consolidate. Instead of rising up, and out the foul-smelling smoke was descending into a pool around the monks.

"So hard you've tried; worked to cast aside the yoke of lies, and yet.." The shroud of pitch black smoke started to swirl, at first so slowly it was barely visable. But the voice seemed to stir it into malicious life. "You grew so, so sickeningly complacent. So depressingly content to cease your quest for The Truth once you attained a scrap!" The speaker made no effort to hide his contempt, the supernatural smoke responding in kind, ripping and tearing at the very fabric of the monk's souls whenever it came into contact. "And now! When an opportunity to set your errors aright presents itself you bury your heads back in the filth of ignorance!"



The entire spire shook, the force of the wrathful scream hitting the room like a detonation, and sending the smoke out in all directions like a tsunami. All lights were violently snuffed, all the breathable air was tainted with the foulest of stink, and all but the strongest would likely struggle to maintain their footing. Even the feeble, pale rays of the moon were swallowed on black. All was quiet for a moment afterwards, but again the voice intruded, although now it rang with the strength of flesh, and nearby flesh at that. Whoever, or whatever possessed it had been made manifest in the darkness. "My disappointment is quite sincere.."

The monks, one by one, dropped to their hands and knees in the dark stench of the spire. Fester raised his head at the change in the voice. Something, someone, was here. It's power was tangible in the air, and there was a chaos about the energy in the room that would strike fear into the hearts of most. Fester reveled in it.

Fester spoke up, "We seek your guidance in our times of ignorance."

The sudden supplication of the monks' surprised Erebus a great a deal, although it was indeed a most welcome one. He could feel both of his twisted, gnarled hearts swell with pride as his void-black eyes took in the sight. Still shrouded by what was left if the smoke, The Hand of Destiny allowed himself a wicked grin. There might be some hope for them after all, and his grand scheme hinged on what it always seemed to - a need for fanatical devotion.

"Well now.." snickered the Dark Apostle, the volume, and wrath of his tone dropping a little. "Perhaps you are not so foolish as I thought, to see your ignorance for what it is, is no small feat."

He paused, debating his next step carefully, and mulling over the question presented to him. Time was most assuredly of the essence, but the power of theatrics, symbolism, and ritual were absolute. A most careful balance would need to be struck here. Finally, after a solid minute of silence, he addressed the monks once more, again working himself towards a fever-pitch. "You seek guidance, do you? Simplistic instruction? Do you not already have a bevy of false, weak 'Gods' for such a paultry end? DO NOT WASTE MY TIME!"



Erebus slammed his Power Maul against the nearest wall with more than enough force to dent a Rhino tank. The shock wave it generated tore through the room, seemingly growing with force as it whisked away the smoke, and reverberated along the entire spire. In seconds the monks would finally be able to witness that which they summoned. Towering over mortals at a full ten feet, and easily half that shoulder-to-shoulder, The Dark Apostle stood motionless. His ancient, bright red Artificer Armour added greatly to his bulk, and constrasted quite nicely against the deeper, crimson skin of his horned visage. The various skulls, and still-fleshed heads integrated into its various support systems, or idly hanging from chains told a clear story, as did the blood writ scripture on either shoulder.

Part of the wall crumbled upon impact, a large piece of stone falling one one of the monks. Erebus's words drowned out the cries of the monk as he slowly perished, his life being taken by the weight of the debris.

Fester dared to let his eyes feast upon the glory before him.

"Give us our task," Fester all but choked out, trying to keep his body from quivering apart.
"What shall we do to prove to you, our dedication, our devotion, to The Truth?"

"Much is what you shall do to prove your worth," spat the Apostle. His glowing daemonic eyes gravitating towards the monk being crushed. His pitiable mewling was such a pleasing sound, but to let the simmpering mortal die now, before even knowing of the glory of the Dark Gods was not a sin Erebus sought to commit. "But first, allow me to impart a vital lesson to all of you. The Dark Gods are harsh master indeed.."

He raised his power maul, the slab of fallen stone rising in time. With a great ease it levitated up for the man, despite not being a psyker himself. His powers were much more grand, miracles straight from his wicked patrons.

"Failure, disobedience, disloyalty, and disrespect shall be met with ends most foul, but loyalty!" Without warning a massive bolt of Warp energy crashed down from the ceiling like lightning, vaporizing the derbies on contact. And striking the monk's corpse. "Loyalty, and praise are rewarded - behold!"

An ominous purple maelstrom consumed the immediate area of the slain man, flooding the shrine with the ebb, and flow of the Immaterium. Reality within its sphere was a mere child's notion, and with a simple snap of Erebus' fingers the man was forcibly ressurected. As so much more.

"Now, much work is to be done, and quickly. But first, you! Fester!" Knowledge of the man's name was little more than a parlour trick, but one Erebus found useful. The more omniscient he, and by extension his Gods seemed, the better. "Approach, and claim your due! If your vile heart is half as genuine as your groveling you need not fear."

Fester, holding himself with a newness that felt like the boiling of every aspect of his being, slowly stepped forth. The other monks had descended to their knees, some sputtering out coughs, some silently weeping, some quaking with fear, and the minority holding themselves still to listen.

"Fear," Fester hissed, "I discard such a thing! One has no fear in their heart when the truth is to be delivered!"

Erebus' vile grin contorted into a horrifying mix of contempt, and bemusement. Such bluster, and bravado was exactly the sort of folly he needed. The Dark Gods were to be feared, and rightly so, but they had no place for weakness, no room for doubts. Fester would be a serviceable pawn, and as the man approached the Dark Apostle raised his staff above his head, it's Undivided sigil bursting into Warp-flames.

"Nurgle, Slaneesh, Tzneetch, and Khorne! Dread fathers of the Empyrean, of man, of life, and truth! Hear your serva-"

The adlibbed ritual was interrupted by a blinding flash of Warp Energy. A veritable flood of chaotic, purple miasma swept the room, quickly followed by an unholy stench. A pillar of green smoke coalesced in the center, slowly revealing the bloated form of Bulbic.

Erebus was not amused, and though his exterior remained collected the rage beneath the surface was palpable.

"What is the meaning of this, Maggotmancer!? I gave you strict instructions!" He strode forward, malicious energy crackling at his finger tips.

"I'm aware, Dark Apostle! Things have changed, and quickly, ya know? See for yourself! This is an emergency!"

The green silhouette shot forward before Erebus had time to protest, crashing directly into the much larger man's chest. The psychic force sent him staggering back, but he remained upright. His eyes burning green as he was granted control of the sorcerer's physical form. His head swept from side to side, surveying the distant field of battle with a scowl. Whatever he was seeing was clearly vexing in the extreme.

"By Lorgar," he scowled, seemingly to himself. "You've really driven this situation into ruin, haven't you? Your failings will be rectified. Swiftly. But for now, yes. Yes. That will do adequately, and you may yet save your filth-bloated hide, Bulbic."

He raised his sacred staff once more, this time it errupting in blood-red fire.



A wave of sheer power pulsed through the room, emminanting directly from Erebus. Unlike the previous it would hit any, and all like the stroke of a mighty axe. Any monks weak enough to lose their footing would be instantly eviscerated in a shower of gore, and viscera. The sign of Khorne's acquiescence.

The Son's of Cain would soon arrive.

Mourning shifted into the shadow behind a half-crumbled pillar- formerly destroyed by a manifestation. As Mourning departed from the Shrine of Shrines, the echo of a sob ricocheted off the stones. The dusts of the space hadn't been disturbed. There were no footprints left behind.