Terminus: To Perfect Humanity V

[19:55] Laurentius returns again, for his regular visit to their Lord- yet... something is off. His gait is unsteady, as if one foot doesn't want to hold his weight. He kneels, once again, near the steps to the pit- and this time, there is a curious- and unpleasant sound, a hand dipping to hold his stomach.

He is silent, without a word spoken, this time.
(Laurentius of Terminus)
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[19:56] Laurentius of Terminus thinks, "I return, my lord, with thy harvest."
[21:24] Something was off...
Such a strange shifting in their stance, as the silent command ushered for them to venture into the shrine pool. They were being watched by the clergymen present, further suggested by the subtle pull of telekinesis that amplified in strength the further own descended into the Patron's murky depths.

The fluids that'd encompass Laurentius filled at the seams of their armor, for the body beneath -- to find blood with semblances of gore beading from the openings.
How their agent was massacred by the forces of Meranthe at-large...
A travesty.

" They sully my name, but marring your form...
But your tithes unto me... And loyalty to my benevolence shall render it all for naught.

I will do more than mend you once more...
I will improve you...
Perfect you."

The etheric pulsations of mana reverberated through Laurentius' form beneath their armor, sounding off the wet smacks of sinew stretched against snapping bones. Their blood was clouding around their image descending the abyssal substance -- subjected to advanced telekinetic influence that sought to correct what was misshaped.

Even if someone were subjected to such, were to cry out in pain, they'd only find the sound muffled -- drowned out by the fluid that would rapidly fill the lungs... Not that it'd matter in any context here.
To the forced endeavor to forge a blood eagle out of the Agent of Terminus? Bones were shattered outright, flooded with the Patron's essence that sought to fuse them back together again. It was precise, from the transmogrification of mana-infused fat within the bone marrow that would inevitably be exposed beneath their armor? To the rapid generation of new flesh...

Though it seemed different than before...
Oft, it was a display of the invented Esoteric Magic, unmaking one target, to include potentially themselves through the Occult in a pale imitation of White Magic, to rejuvenate another...
This time, raw mana transmuted through the metaphysical domain sought to transcend for the physical -- for the biological...
To become... Flesh, without the need of the biomancy one would oft require of themselves.

It was the creation of something, transmuting from something else...
A knock at the door of Divinity -- or at least, an affront against it.
The effort seemed clearly strained, slower, but far more precise in effectiveness. There were far fewer discrepancies as compared to before, but... It wasn't to say that one's prowess was done without the need to alternate.

While a mess certainly mixed in with the concoction of alchemical preservatives, the blood of the Patron, and even X-fluid? It was doubtless that it'd be overwhelmed, masked in time.

The intestines that would pushed out, held in by armor were pressured by the psionic powers at-work, all the while, the layer of skin was unraveled from one's very being... Peeled open, inversely vivisecting them to engulf what was forced to spill out. Miniature skewers of mana stabbed through where the skin would meet, imitating a medic's sewing tools, forcing what was to hold together, still rather fragile for the fleeting moments.

The previous gift of the Terminus' flesh would do the rest, feeding on the very mana presented from the skewers holding it all in place, to fuse what flesh was...
It was an attempt to not only limit the impact of such macabre inversion, but drastically aid Laurentius' vessel in recovery.

Though this was not all he'd take attention to...
For the most egregious discrepancy, would be loss...
A limb that simply wasn't amended properly...
If he had brows to furrow, this would be the time...

For such, it was far less extensive... Abruptly stretched, with a cancerous layer of growing flesh, fed by his mana to crawl over the exposed joints, intent on forcing them back into proper place with a series of audible pops.
"You have provided me much entropic essence to work with..."
The Patron's Mark pulsated with raw radiance -- properly charged up for the first time in the decade.
"Enough, that perhaps... I shall properly reward you..."
(Etheric Presence)
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[21:24] It didn't matter the form...
For Laurentius, in the eyes of the Patron -- was a bounty that had grown well. It had bore fruit...
Fruit, that none in modern history would consider to harvest.
At least, not without cutting the entire tree down...

Alas, the Patron here...
Terminus...
Would pluck fruit from this tree, and taste the flavor of his labors.

The husk shifted, stirred within the deepest depths of its shrine pool. The left arm slowly ascended, reaching up, controlled almost entirely by one's cognitive casting. Mana funneled through it, managing a passive vacuum sensation at one's body, at one's spirit -- against one's soul.

It was one thing to manipulate around its barrier, but to understand its anchor to the Heart Circuit? It meant that one could actively...
Pry...
The runework upon the left arm of Terminus' vessel shined a piercing sapphire, calling upon one's circuitry beyond the armor, beyond the flesh with etherical pulsations. Wisps of sapphire bloomed from Laurentius' image, forging a translucent miasma to feed into the titan palm presented before them. All the while, as the weight of armor sought to bring the knight further below? The arm extended its reach to embrace them whole, eventually catching them by their entire chestplate.

The contact with the mark earned a flare of sapphire to spark before one's gander, before enveloping them whole -- No longer a humanoid silhouette in the darkness, but a shining star of raw essence.
The Patron could feed, but it would not come without some means of incentive...
Some means of reward...
Extensive knowledge of human anatomy provided them proper capability to accomplish such...
Every attempt was another to properly bridge the gap between the living, and the dead... To undo the duality -- To create a Perfect Humanity that lacked the flaws of either. The pulsation of essence sought to focus its attention...
For the dead heart within, to imitate a heart beat...
To work with the pre-established wiring, for it was to be the anchor of their soul. It had to beat...
It had to work...
If only for a dead body...
If only for the mana that coursed its anatomy...
If only, to overclock them to a magnitude beyond their peer.

A tithe of one's total reserves was taken...
But from what was removed? Some was repurposed, to amplify the function of circuitry to one's extremities... Based on their intent on the world at-large.

Magus static arc'd around the arm, shifting for something more reminiscent of Hellstorm-borne arcs down the appendage, and across one's body, feeding into the Godseed.

Today would mark one step closer... Towards Greater Ascension.
How much longer until the time was nigh...
(Etheric Presence)
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[21:44] Certainly, he was a mess beneath the armor. Sinking into the depths of the tenebrous fluid was a strange experience- paradoxically, so close to the patron's hold, immersed in that sea-

It was the only place in which his existence was not wracked with the endless pain of undeath. A foreign concept, to be rid of such agony as his, the feeling of being the dirt under the world's nails, of filth as the sun slicks your forehead with boiling sweat, as the air cuts at your lungs and the blood that flows in your veins turns to sludge.

Or at least, such would be the case if any of those were his. Instead, he suffers a false life- it is all he has ever known, normal to him. In this place, the lifestream could not reach him fully, and for moments he was at rest with his dead nerves.

Even as his bones shatter and reform, Laurentius voices not a complaint- pain was just a fact of his existence, something he was well accustomed to. Esoteric Magic wreaking devastation in reformation, re-writing what had been utterly demolished. He had managed to devour a portion of another mage, trap it inside that singularity provided- only for most of it to be torn out of him before it could finish being absorbed. It was the first time he had felt true hatred, when another had warped his flesh, pretending at the role only his master could attest to. Daring to violate that sanctity, to shape His flesh as if they had the right.

A sneer had found his skinless face at the thought. Mana skewers through his being, reassembling him, the tumorous flesh reknitting and reforming in writhing fashion. He had tried to reattach his own foot, but it wasn't quite right- awkward to walk upon, before it was abruptly corrected by the Patron in those pops and cracks.

Many had spoken to Laurentius in the field, as if he were a person, one who took actions for his own causes and reasons. That is not how the champion of Terminus saw it.

He was a tool, builtto accomplish a task:
To further the aims and ambitions of his dark master.

That is all that there was to his existence.
Whatever form he took, mattered not, nor how shattered grew his unnatural existence. Terminus makes one more alteration to his being? If the Lord wished to claim a piece of his strength in return for greater power, there was no protest from the soldier. He could claim it all if it is what was needed.

And so, once again, it ripples, it aches, as the heart is pushed to beat and shove gelid, congealed blood through scarred veins. As the mana begins to push faster, harsher, circuits scalded under the heat and weight of it all- the power of the Patron's Mark, made upon his heart.

Investment, for he had much still to do. For a time, he floats, the seal's alterations crackling through his form as his flesh finally re-knits together.
(Laurentius of Terminus)
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[22:08] The shrine's pool shined a solid mauve, cackling with magus static. It was much more severe than many times before, as mana pooled at its depths in far greater capacity. Would come emerge from this coalescing of great casting prowess? Would be a slowly levitating Laurentius...

Their silhouette alit with mauve, occasionaly gattled with crimson lightning... It was briefly, as they were telekinetically harbored, laden to their feet at the pool's edge. As though to insinuate themselves capable of casual flight...

They had emerged from the Patron's shrine...
Different, than before...
(Etheric Presence)
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[22:14] Laurentius lands upon the edge of the pool, sinking to one knee with a crackle of mana. He was... different, now. A little changed. Perhaps enough to strike harder and faster- or perhaps he would simply burn out. Hard to say... he needed to carry on his work for the nation.

Find more ways for his Lord to grow. No sacrifice was too small, nor price too high, for his duty. As he rises back to his feet, his helm settles upon the president, come to visit.

He says nothing, only taking a moment to reapply his cologne after a dip in the pool.
(Laurentius of Terminus)
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[22:15] Laurentius of Terminus thinks, "Thank you, my Lord."
[22:15] Laurentius of Terminus thinks, "I will continue my service as usual. I grow daily."
[22:17] Harbringer asks, "Mmm?"
[22:18] Harbringer says, "You seem... different, Laurentius."