The Divine voice of Iosyne echoes in your head, "One of Mine sings your praises and it has invoked My curiosity."

You tell Iosyne, the Malevolent, "It brings me joy to hear that. How might I satisfy Your curiosity?"

The Divine voice of Iosyne echoes in your head, "My Apostles have said you are a quick learner. That your allegiance was won swiftly. Your grasp of My rules, expressed."

You tell Iosyne, the Malevolent, "Your rules have resonated deeply with me. Awoken memories from long ago, memories I had repressed. I have learned to embrace these memories, embrace the pain of them. I feel... an enlightenment, a strength I have never held before. I am Yours, Malevolent."

The Divine voice of Iosyne echoes in your head, "But anyone, at their best, can do well for themselves. My curiosity centers on how those who claim to follow Me behave at their worst."

You tell Iosyne, the Malevolent, "Strength in pain. How might I seek my worst?"

You are transported by the will of the Divine.

LOOK IOSYNE
She is an Immortal of massive proportions, a half-woman, half-spider monstrosity of terrifying shape. The sharp, angular features of Her face are hardened into a cruel countenance, Her sightless gaze naught but narrowed white orbs lacking their pupil. A haze of creeping shadows partially swathes Her form, surrounding Her like a heavy fog, and partially melding with the wild mane of crimson-streaked black hair cascading from Her shoulders. Whipcord muscles beneath sleek ebony skin suit Her monstrous form well; where Her humanoid waist ends, an arachnid thorax begins and continues into a bulbous black abdomen splattered with red blots. Eight segmented, spindly legs carry this body aptly and swiftly, dexterous appendages capable of moving in any direction with frightening speed. She is wearing:
a black-inked tattoo of a pair of crossed fists
a molded plate chestpiece

LOOK HORROR
The nebulous body of this shadowy mass of tentacles is difficult to pin a concrete shape to, as it gives to a constant state of shapeshifting within its bloated mass. It is small and nonspecific in form, with a single, unblinking eye bisected by an razor-thin, elliptical pupil in the center of its body. Numerous tentacles emerge from its body to probe about its surroundings inquisitively, each one dripping with a thin black liquid and equipped with dozens of suckers.

Iosyne's arachnid body is carried low to the ground, hovering over the shifting, tentacled horror almost protectively.

You have emoted: Ezalor drops to one knee before Iosyne, sweeping his hat off his head to hold to his chest. He kneels, prone, head bowed for a few moments before slowly raising his gaze to drink in the surroundings, a slight widening of his eyes betraying his unease. His gaze fixes on the tentacled horror with a slight tightening of his mouth. "Your agent serves, Malevolent," he whispers softly.

Iosyne is silent for a long time, the glowing white orbs in place of Her eyes narrowed in terse appraisal of you. Her human hands move over the tentacled mass beneath Her, disturbing wispy trails of shadow from its amorphous body. Minutes pass without comment or any indication that She acknowledges your pledge. Then, She asks genially, "Are you familiar with the hound training practices of the Carnifex?"

You have emoted: Ezalor's eyes narrow slightly, his hat crumpling against his chest as his hand involuntarily closes to a fist. His gaze remains on the tentacled mass, unblinking. "Not intimately," he says, "But I understand the gist of it."

"Their hounds are broken through sheer brutality - methods of which I find work effectively where others fall short" Iosyne opines. She steps over the tentacled horror, each of Her eight spindly legs carrying Her monstrous form closer to you. "Stand," She says sharply.

You have emoted: Ezalor rises slowly to his feet, discarding his hat carelessly to the ground. His stance is tensed and strained, both hands closed tight as his knuckles press against his pale skin. His gaze finally breaks, moving from the creature to settle on Iosyne. "I welcome the worst," he breathes, a slight tremor in the words.

Iosyne cups an anonymous, featureless mask in Her hand, placing it over your face with exquisite care. "You will," She promises, in a voice none-too-reassuring.

You are now wearing an anonymous, featureless mask.

LOOK MASK
Secured by a simple leather band, this mask is a thin wooden oval, big enough to completely cover it's wearer's face. Relatively unadorned, the mask has been painted a pale, white colour, the grain of the wood visible through the thin layer of paint. Two small holes at the eyes allow for a relatively uncompromised field of vision when worn, and a bigger, mouth-shaped opening makes it possible to actually breathe.
It has 77 months of usefulness left.
It weighs 8 ounce(s).
It bears the distinctive mark of Jarva Ruek.

The mask immediately adheres to the skin of your face, an effect supernatural to it but - for now - permanent.

You have emoted: Ezalor's hand rises, fingers probing the mask, trembling slightly in anticipation - and fear - as it traces the shape of the mask. His lips tighten, what little colour in them fading closer the same white pallor as his skin. He shakes his head from side to side slowly, drinking in the perfect fit of the mask upon his face.

Iosyne's graceful legs carry Her off to one side, and She turns to beckon to a tentacled horror for it to approach Herself and you.

You have emoted: Ezalor eyes dart back to the creature, body completely motionless as he watches it with rising apprehension. A soft, needless exhale exits his pursed lips.

"Something from My lair," Iosyne explains. She coaxes the shifting, writhing thing within arm's reach of you. "Yours until I am sufficiently convinced you remain an asset, even at your worst."

From the corner of your eye, you spot your shadow pulling away from you, as if attempting to escape. As soon as you notice it, however, it slides back into its logical position.

You have emoted: Ezalor head spins abruptly to stare at his shadow, a disturbed frown unseen behind the featureless mask. He turns back to the creature, head darting back and forth between the two before he composes himself enough to speak. "I beg to prove such to You, Malevolent," he says, a sudden firmness in his voice.

"Then do so," Iosyne says, Her words clipped. She ushers the tentacled creature to you.

You have emoted: Ezalor's eyes follow the movements of the creature, every muscle in his body rigid with tension as it reaches him.

The nebulous thing quivers in its jelly-like mass, a single unblinking eye looking up at you.

Sounding faintly amused, Iosyne, the Malevolent says, "Do My creatures disturb you?"

From the corner of your eye, you spot your shadow pulling away from you, as if attempting to escape. As soon as you notice it, however, it slides back into its logical position.

You have emoted: Ezalor hesitates before answering through tight lips, "I would be lying if I said they did not. But what disturbs me more is this fear, this trepidation wracking my body and mind." His head turns towards Iosyne, "I have taken your rules to heart. I suppose this is the time to prove that to myself, and to You."

Iosyne nods in acceptance of this, taking several steps back and away from both you and horror. With adequate space now, She rises to Her full height, drawing Her shoulders back and adopting a fiercely austere expression. "Your things," She indicates.

You have emoted: As he finishes picking up the rest, Ezalor he moves over to the horror, reaching down to grab it. A slight shudder wracks his body as it latches to his neck, another needless exhale escaping him.

The abhorrent creature latches onto your neck as you pick it up.
You pick up a tentacled horror.

"Acceptable," Iosyne says to you vaguely. She lowers Her body closer to the ground, whispering something in arachnid clicks to the earth.

You are transported by the will of the Divine.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
This is where the fun truly starts! Ezalor calls a meeting with a few D'baen members.

You have emoted: Ezalor stands here, a shadowy tentacled creature firmly attached to his throat. Upon his face sits a featureless mask, utterly devoid of any recognizable identity.

Entering the room from the south, Haedyn's eyes grow large for a moment as he catches sight of you. His expression settling, he raises a hand to stroke the neatly trimmed hair upon his chin before saying to you "Well, now. What have you gone and got yourself into, Praetor."

You have emoted: "Your Grace," Ezalor says, an odd rasping tone to his voice as he doffs his hat cordially. "As you can see, I'm in a rather...unique situation right now. A lesson, I wager. To erase myself, to let go of what I have possessed in this world. Or this could all just merely be for the Malevolent's amusement," he ends wryly. His eyes dart furtively for a moment, a sharp intake of breath accompanying his bewildered eyes before he composes himself once more. "But though Ezalor may be subverted, D'baen cannot." His eyes burn slightly as he forces them to still, fixing upon Haedyn. "I will continue my duties to the House, but I would like Your Grace to accompany me as well. To...appease those who might find my present condition disturbing."

With a snap of his fingers, you say, "Ah, another I need to speak to."
As you speak, the tentacled horror clasped around your neck tightens its constrictive grip, causing you to gag uncontrollably.
The tentacled horror's asphyxiating grip squeezes your throat painfully, damaging your esophagus.

You have emoted: Ezalor gags for a moment, eyes rolling behind his head before he steels himself back to composure.

BLOOD BECKON ALOLI

You have emoted: "Childe," Ezalor says in a raspy tone as he inclines his head to Aloli.

"Of course." Haedyn says as he lowers the hand previously stroking his chin to this side. "So this is the doing of the Malevolent then?" He asks you.

Aloli looks at you and gasps, "Oh no, what is that?" She instinctively moves to pull that tentacle out.

Aloli stops dead in her tracks, "It's what?"

You have emoted: Ezalor turns his head to the side, his Blood willing Aloli's hand away from him. "It is my gift," he murmurs through clenched teeth, eyes darting furtively around the room at nothing once more, "My breaking." He closes his eyes, resolve burning in them as they open once more. "As I was saying to His Grace Haedyn, it would be best to have one of the Ascendants accompany me on all external House matters for now."

Aloli refuses to accept that look on your face as normal, as her hand is forced away. Speechless, she looks at Haedyn.

Duchess Aloli D'baen says to you, "You don't look like yourself, what kind of a gift is this?"

"Mm." Haedyn says considering the situation.

Grave paranoia suddenly strikes you out of nowhere, the shadows in the area darkening and growing outward and upward to resemble humanoid forms. They reach outward for you, twitchy and renegade things threatening to siphon something from you.

Addressing Aloli, Haedyn says "Your Grace, it would seem that your Sire is being challenged."

You have emoted: "One of enlightenment," Ezalor says slowly. "But though I have put my face aside for now, D'baen cannot be afforded that same luxury." He abruptly spasms once, body stilling afterwards as he continues, "I will do my responsibility to the House. But for now, I would like one of you to accompany me when I must present myself on behalf of D'baen."

Aloli decides to not look at you right now and turns to look at Haedyn in distress, "Challenged or controlled? This almost feels like an insult to who he is."

Arch Duke Haedyn D'baen says to you, "Consider it done, Praetor."

Arch Duke Haedyn D'baen says, "We shall weather this storm with you."

Aloli nods her head emphatically.

Duchess Aloli D'baen says, "I'm not leaving your side in this state."

Aloli looks at the tentacle's eye and grunts. "I hope this doesn't end up consuming him."

"I should hope not." Haedyn replies, rolling his shoulders. "I rather prefer him with a head."

A warm flush of heat rises to your face.

You have emoted: Ezalor unbuttons the collar of his coat, tugging incessantly on it as if pressed by some unseen heat.

You have emoted: Smiling wryly, Ezalor whispers, "Who I am...I am not my face, Childe." He raises a slightly trembling hand to lay it, palm outwards upon Aloli's cheek. "I am not what I have risen to. I am not my possessions, my positions. Who I truly am, that is from within. When all the walls have been broken down, the shackles destroyed. The Malevolent will break me, and I will rise the stronger for it." He heaves a long sigh, hand slumping back to his side. "But as I said, D'baen cannot be forced on this journey with me."

The wood of the mask warps, as if melted into a malleable substance, and conforms to the shape of your face perfectly.

You have emoted: Ezalor grimaces slightly, hand shooting up to trace the material of the mask.

His eyes narrowing into a squint as he focuses upon the shifting mask, Haedyn says "Fascinating."

Incredible hot, burning pain is felt against your skin as the mask renews its grip on your face. Trails of black smoke waft out lazily from the eye-holes of your mask, carrying with it the distinct scent of burning.

Aloli watches the wooden mask cover your face and her heart sinks with a large measure of fear, "I know D'baen is not going to take this journey with you. You're ...doing this for yourself." She gasps when the smell of smoke reaches her nostrils, "Oh my Lord, Sire?" She asks as if expecting him to be lost to his body at any moment.

You have emoted: Ezalor falls to his knees, mouth opening though no sound escapes. His eyes widen as far as they can go, agony painted in them. Slowly he forces himself back to his feet, willing his body still, the pain intermingled with pleasure in his eyes. A few deep breaths escape him before he starts to laugh, a soft rumble before erupting into full mirth. "This pain," he hisses as his laughter subsides, "I have never felt more...alive," he ends with a small smirk at the choice of words.

You have emoted: "Fear not Childe," Ezalor intones as he turns to Aloli once more. "It is my own face I have lost, not that of our House."

"Mmmm." Haedyn utters as his eyes follow your movement. "Fascinating, indeed."

Arch Duke Haedyn D'baen asks you, "I assume this is something you've asked for by seeking membership into the Malevolent's Divine Order, Your Grace?"

Like the ever-worried Childe she is, Aloli couldn't contain her worry and rushes to your side when you falls and puts a hand on your back and another to try to help you up. She steps back when she hears laughter. "You're willing to lose your face and even change who you are to be broken my Her and for what?" She asks as if almost angry, "For What?"

Incredible hot, burning pain is felt against your skin as the mask renews its grip on your face. Trails of black smoke waft out lazily from the eye-holes of your mask, carrying with it the distinct scent of burning.

You have emoted: Ezalor grins at Haedyn. "Touch it, if you wish," he says simply, holding his head high towards Haedyn. Though smoke erupts once again from the mask, Ezalor gives no indication beyond a slight tightening of his eyes. He pets Aloli reassuringly on the arm, "I am not changing who I am, Childe. I will always be me, the one you have seen and held. This...this is to realize myself even more. To destroy my inhibitions. To make me stronger...to forge myself."

You say to Haedyn, "Perhaps you will have leave to study it in the future, Malevolent willing."
As you speak, the tentacled horror clasped around your neck tightens its constrictive grip, causing you to gag uncontrollably.
The tentacled horror's asphyxiating grip squeezes your throat painfully, damaging your esophagus.

Tilting his head to the side, curiosity overcomes Haedyn's expression as he reaches out, placing his hand upon the mask. His thumb tracing the lower half of the eye-opening, Haedyn's tongue clicks against his teeth. "How very ... Fascinating."

Hesitantly withdrawing his hand from the mask, Haedyn takes a step back, his eyes still focused on you.

Arch Duke Haedyn D'baen says, "Though for now, I am afraid I need to take my leave."

You have emoted: Ezalor nods his head at Haedyn. "Go well, Your Grace," he says, gagging as the creature constricts him once more.

Arch Duke Haedyn D'baen says to you, "You have my support in this venture, in whatever form that you should need it."

You say, "For now, merely assist me in keeping D'baen together."
As you speak, the tentacled horror clasped around your neck tightens its constrictive grip, causing you to gag uncontrollably.
The tentacled horror's asphyxiating grip squeezes your throat painfully, damaging your esophagus.

Aloli instinctively tries to reach for the tentacle that's choking you and shakes her head, collecting her thoughts, "Rest in peace, Your Grace." She says respectfully to Haedyn, in as much decorum she can muster before turning back to you.

Incredible hot, burning pain is felt against your skin as the mask renews its grip on your face. Trails of black smoke waft out lazily from the eye-holes of your mask, carrying with it the distinct scent of burning.

As Haedyn makes his way toward the exit of the sitting room, he stops at Aloli's side and whispers to her "He is strong, Your Grace. Do not fret. He will survive this."

You feel your eyes itch and your vision cloud with a red tint, which gradually intensifies on the peripherals of your perception. Eventually, it is as if your eyeballs are being squeezed in someone's merciless grip, so constricted is the feeling. The red fog is now a bright crimson haze, obscuring everything else and leaving you with an infuriating, eager thirst for bloodshed.

Haedyn inclines his head politely to those around him.

Haedyn strides away to the south, his colossal form sending tremors through the ground.