Terminus: Priming Nightreaper Spawnlings + Gifting Occultism

[10:20] Orfeas ponders, "Now- One of your servants said somethign about a ritual...?"
[10:28] The presence could be felt...
However, within such close proximity -- observing the levitation of various papers and material would eventually present the image of them being toiled back into open chests.

Chests, that slammed shut in nigh unison.
The smog oozed through the seams of the Malevolence, through the floorboards, through the staircase -- departing the immediate area. It was clear that the Patron was busying themselves with something.

Regardless, to Orfeas' open thoughts? A psionic connection between them suggested one to pursue the sensation of his presence -- to follow into a broad open scene.

Within the throne room? The current cult head: Maledictus Solen, appeared to suffered... A... Massive occultic burn across the left-side of their body. Their every wheezing exhale, ushered forth lavender mists, with eye on their afflicted side rendered black within the sclera and gold-like within the pupil -- corrupt and wrought seemingly useless by stygian powers invoked upon it.

Such an affliction was new judging from the looks of it, irradiated of Terminus' power -- likely restrained or kept at a distance to keep from erasing the man outright. Whatever they could've done to earn the Patron's ire could've been put up for debate.

Perhaps, Orfeas was due to discover why soon enough.

(Etheric Presence)

[10:46] "It would appear the suggestion of Oscuri alignment to a mutual cause has been thrown to question."
The boom of the Patron's voice wrought out for Orfeas' mind.

"Their alignment to Varrach, has led in the extinguishment of his very own spawn... My project…"
The air was growing pungent with the Occult, nigh acidic upon the soils within a short proximity around the brightest pyre upon this islet. The light was dampened considerably, but not snuffed out.

"Gone... Slain, and Stolen from me... Varrach has meddled in my affairs yet again. Callous as to the consequences with cohorts presuming my irrelevance.

Such impudence will not go unpunished."
A wrench had been thrown into his plans, and his ire provoked yet again -- it was though his plots thus far from the sidelines were damned to failure.

Time, after time...
After time again... It didn't matter how the execution went... Or did it...

"Varrach's Bastard is dead... Such matter has been brought along by an anonymous tip amongst the Meranthean ilk. Thus, it would seem that the response is to be carried out immediately."


The air stirred, as darkness crept in from the immediate surroundings...
Terminus was about to take physical form once more.
"The ritual you refer to, aside from the completion of the Bastard's body, would be to the imminent emergence of my Nightreapers.

Agents of my flesh -- My brood, specialized in the prowess of the eternal night and shadow. Their control over the abyss shall enable them to refuse the gaze of the sun's light, and infiltrate even their settlements of the magus ilk -- much as Vana'rath once did with his powers to invoke upon the Dreamscape.

I lack such nethradinic tether he had, thus -- such shall be of my own accord. They will not venture into their dreams... They will lie in wait, within their homes, with intent to strike as I deem fit to punish the sinners abroad.

They will reach out to acquire the material necessary to propagate more rituals.

They will enhance the capabilities of my Centricons, and complete my rewriting of the Pantheon above when it all comes to the End of this age."
The light manifested by his presence was eclipsed, with typical theatrics played out within the blanketing night...

The shine of his crimson hues peering through the dark, with the thunderous quake of a footfall suggesting that his physical form had been manifested once more -- standing at the impressive two dozen feet he'd often hide of his mutated stature.

"You have been quite the scholar in the years I've observed and fostered you, Orfeas… Your expertise shall insure the functionality of their emergence and proper direction of their hastened evolutionary growth. They must be refined... And you shall be my sharpener."
(Terminus)

[11:06] A brief, sarcastic snort is given at the mention of the Oscuri aligning with Varrach.

"Ingenious." They'd remark on that. "Join up with the imbecile that blew up their settlement rather than regroup and continue where they left off..."

A fact that may dissuade them, should their lot be in any state of suggestion, rather than blindly tossing the net for the strongest-seeming ally. And indeed, Varrach was powerful. But ultimately only that. Any wise moves likely being from those around him, and simply attributed after.

Such were the man's own thoughts. No high reverence given to the first Imprefect.

Yet they seemed none too bothered by the loss of Bastard. Perhaps because they hadn't seen much of them prior to the single instance of meeting. A project, as Terminus said. But just one of many. They'd faced setbacks and losses before, much greater than this.

"All that was lost, is a spot of poetic retribution. Nothing more." They'd reply in a cold tone.

"Focus not on revenge. It is a waste of your energy, and resources. Inevitably, it will come full circle by staying the path."

Strangely. This time around? When the soil roiled with the presence of Terminus? It did not sprout again in the presence of the once, outwardly warm presence of the druidic mage.

Instead, stillness took to the air. Stagnation. As blackened, root-like structures began to burgeon from the earth instead. Crooked stems that attempted to bud in vain. Merely perverted nature- Incomplete in a transition to adapt to the Undeath that had long-twisted Orfeas from within.

They gave a slight hum in consideration of Terminus' plot by the end. Squinting, as they mentally noted some faults in it. But rather than pointing them out this time around? He simply shrugged.

"Sure." They'd remark. "I would recommend, however. Failsafes. As the Bastard Child went against Varrach, these ones could turn against you. As such? I will offer the use of my own Mark. To be engraved immutably upon their flesh in turn. Dormant, of course. But should they rebel? It will act as a swift kill switch, to prevent regeneration, and impose necrosis."
(Orfeas)

[11:36] The Ancient Kaor Lord's gaze digressed from Orfeas, taking their gander for the realm across the remnants of the isle and the seas thereafter... A sway of their gargantuan stature -- and perhaps the subtle dispersal of the umbral forces sought to reflect a glint of light across his physicality. It was enough with the trickling dawn light to offer his silhouette's form, three of his four arms hanging at his sides in typical fashion but...

What was this?
The fourth -- The lower-left arm was covered in artificial leylines grafted into the flesh. They gleamed sapphire in their seemingly jarring, calculated and even robotic-inspired design -- until it came to the transmutation circle carved into the palm, now being marveled upon by the Terminus. Their expression implied of their puzzled feelings on the matter, still trying to figure something about his creation.

The transmutation mark was encircled with runic inscriptions, with a symbol at the center -- a brand, likely carved straight into the mana nexuses within the hand to keep the spell active indefinitely.

It was something that came in twain with Orfeas mentioning his -own- mark. If Terminus had brows, this would be when he raised one -- his head ebbed up slightly in acknowledgement, in curiosity. Canted off to his side as though further mulling on a matter, more specifically tied to Orfeas now.

"Interesting."
It would seem the solution to his issue, was standing right in front of him this entire time. Their return was indeed fate smiling upon his efforts.

"All of this time, I was not under the presumption that runic branding was an aspect you'd invest in. Though, it would appear your efforts are a tad further along than mine.

Tell me... With the development of your brand, you have discovered the shortcomings of fastening it to the flesh of those abroad?

My theories thus far have brought me to discover the link between the heart, the mana nexus within it, and the invocation of magic that enhances one's potency output. Though, it would appear my brands have yet to cling to their flesh...

As though, I'm missing a final ingredient... One last applied concept."
Though, perhaps that was just it...

Much like the theories of Occultic Geometry he embroiled himself within, he simply was lacking a true comprehension of something unlike those he bestowed his hand upon...
Beyond their interests...
Beyond his capability to actually accomplish it...
Beyond the literal physical alterations to his body...
Initial Purpose.
Understanding of such purpose.
Ambition.

Perhaps, losing yet another project -- even if inconsequential to the greater aspect of everything? Was enough of an irritant. Not because of the masses... But of the very individual he felt so intimately tied to; that proved to be the very reason he writhed in Hate.
Varrach.
-He- had part in meddling in his affairs... That was what made this different...
Why it actually -hurt- him, as opposed to a random Meranthean.
It was a transgression on -top- of betrayal that had festered for over a century.

"Your mark... I intend to see it applied upon our future prospects... Perhaps, with assurance that it is compatible with mine."
The branding arm was risen enough for Orfeas to gaze upon the inscription encircling the center of the palm.

Proximity -too close- to it however? Would reveal the properties of the spell being constantly invoked. It pried at the mana lying within circuitry like a vacuum -- an alternative means of lapping up mana. All demons were predators after all, consuming mana-rich flesh.

It would appear that the Demon Patron sought to accomplish such in a manner that would prove more enticing for the masses -- easier and more frequent, albeit smaller meals.

"Long ago, you will recall we spoke on a matter similar to this... On the limitations of man and demon, with the cambion as my example.
You referred to such, in an example of a 'cup' with a limit to how full it can become...

I intend to disprove such... I only require a means of -preventing- the bleed of mana from my current project. This, shall proceed prior to any future ritual...

For it will be what draws in the greed of the many abroad."
(Terminus)

[11:58] The man brought his own hand up, staring at the intricate patterns of scar tissue that made up the runework for the spell mean to incur a plague upon the land itself. Something they practiced externally countless times. And to make it simply part of his own innate capabilities? They abused the way the body heals naturally. Forcing the circuitry to mimic the pattern of the spell in exact upon healing fully.

"There is a solution." They'd remark at first. Addressing the cup similarity first.

"Not one that you, nor I would be capable of, however. That was the purpose of the Undead Tree I was working on. A reservoir. One that grew in tandem with input. Stretching its nexus of storage across the earth beneath our feet- Deep enough to eventually traverse beneath the sea itself, to the mainland.

That in of itself is the problem. Circuitry is the limiter. Dense circuitry is one solution, but it inevitably would overwhelm the flesh, and cause it tobreak- Flesh bruising, bones breaking, veins snapping- Just from the sheer exertions within.

To resolve the issue of the cup, you need to find a way to increase the internal volume without it breaking, or making it impossible to draw from. The blessed races, such as the Drakanite, do something akin to this, by materializing a temporary 'dummy organ' in their wings, affording them excess circuitry to exercise greater feats of magic with."

They'd pause for a moment, staring at the metal arm with a hum. "But..." They'd remark for a moment in consideration. "Hm... A vessel of morphic circuitry... Could do that without need for permanent storage. Achievable, methinks, with enough work with magitech application... But it'd take a deal of time. And resources."

They shake their head afterwards, moving on to the other subject!

"As for the mark. You're thinking of it like a regular sigil. A literal brand.

Curses and Boons are the same concept. Two sides of the coin. As you're occult-inclined? Think of how a simple curse binds to an individual. How it lingers.

You don't endlessly project it. It repurposes runoff mana towards an affect. But without taking the time to ensure it bonds precisely with the circuitry? It will be rejected, and eventually fade."
(Orfeas)

[12:21] The Undead Tree was certainly a greater prospect that was in the works for a while. Such, postponed seemingly indefinitely and pushed aside for other pastures. Alas, with revisiting such? It presented quite the immediate external solution.

Then, there was the concept of 'dummy organs'. While grafting and absorbing humans did offer -slight- boons of material to work with? It was not nearly enough to support the sheer capacity he sought for. Demonic Evolutionary Forms would be an immediate answer to retort with, but...
The Kaor form was the pinnacle of Demonic Evolution -- this was widespread knowledge. While one could attempt to ascend to that of an Imperfect? Such was merely a mutation, that came in line with Perfection in tow.

The looming of the Perfect Demon Indras could be felt much closer now...
They were likely only days away, with their overarching shadow casting dread unto demonic and human ilk alike.

Then again, perhaps the answer lied in how Demons oft created extensions of themselves in Imperfection?

"Dummy Organs... Though, such feels to be somewhat of an explanation to the creation of Kaorblades… Of instruments forged by the occultic might of those mutating their Kaor form. Though, such ascension... Such mutation" He corrected, "It is elusive to me...

Perhaps a requirement to forge a Centricon of its ultimate form...
Perhaps the key to the divination I am rightfully entitled to, in the name of The End.

Magitech may not be necessary -in my case-. It may provide a new limiter I have no intention of incorporating within myself. Though, such is not a prospect to be disregarded for future applications..."

Their hand was lowered, examining the presented hand of the necromancer briefly before turning his head for... Who knew exactly.
Itwas clear he was thinking on all of this.
The pause felt extensive... As if to drag on for minutes before --

"Of course." He agreed to their explanation of the sigil.
"Perhaps, I simply haven't applied the care necessary to ensure it remains. I've proven too hasty... Too callous and free with my applicative efforts to consider the strength of its initial binding.

Perhaps in my eagerness, I find myself rushing."

Why was he rushing? Was he not immortal? Wouldn't he live forever? Why would he need to try to hard to ensure results -now-?

"--and with the bleeding of mana from my efforts..." His head lowered to his side in acknowledgement to his gleaming branding arm.
"It would suggest your theory to be correct..."

A pause, before his head turned to face Orfeas once more.
"--but the fact that demons evolve with the accumulation of mana contradicts such. It leavesme to question whether or not my theories simply haven't been practiced under optimal circumstances."

It was clear he was conflicted...
Conflicted on the matter of the validities of his theories...
His own internal mulling on the matter... And the looming concern of enthrallment and eradication to the Perfect Demonic threat on the literal horizon.

(Terminus)

[12:35] "Theories are hardly relevant. Alas, only the one whom literally designed your lot from the start, is the one with the blunt truth. Else, with the sheer intelligence your lot have? They would've been able to hone it to a science."

Humming thereafter, before snapping his fingers.

"But, you're correct. Evolution occurs with its accumulation. However, as you also mention, Imperfection is not an evolution. It's a mutation. Meaning your growth is at its current peak. And thus, it also cannot occur by mere accumulation. There is a missing piece you've either overlooked, or have not found."

They'd remark in an effort to dissect, and aid in their theory-craft. Even though it could hardly be directly known how Imperfection worked in precise detail.

"But until that is figured out. The here-and-now is most prudent. Soon, an army will beset the mainland in effort to cull humanity once again. Already a blow in our favor. And a distraction.

It buys us a good deal of time while war wages. So what do you want to focus on now? It's clear we do not yet have resources to point towards your ascension to an imperfect mutation. So it comes down to what would benefit us most in the immediate focus."
(Orfeas)

[13:04] They did not know of the proper means to ascend towards Imperfection.
Nor, did they know of a means to properly apply The Mark Of The End to its full execution.
With one demon gone, and undead still in-the-works, there was only one last matter to tend one's focus towards.

Preparations for what would remain after the arrival of the Perfect Demon Indras. Should the Perfect Demon prove successful? Perhaps, this endeavor will prove fruitful enough to sustain them in the age that followed....

Should the Perfect Demon fall? Such, would manage to become his instrument to interact with the world at-large.
"Numbers... Agents... Active participants to the cause..."

The titanic demon Patron turned, lumbering past the encampments and tent city. The nonmagus ilk roaming around the growing openings to setup shop once more, in hopes of finally claiming to land in their collective efforts -- maneuvered out of Terminus' way. He was leaving the immediate scene, with some implication of Orfeas' presence being requested in tow.

Their sights were being set upon something...
A development that had commenced since before the man's return.
"My brood is prone to hatching... A ritual to ensure their proper ascension is to be taken upon.

The Nightreapers shall rise... Until your army of the undead are risen? These shall be my extension over Meranthe. Nowhere shall be beyond their touch... Any and all prospects shall be within our realm of influence." They assured.

Though, how would newly born demons be capable of anything given their vulnerability? Some consideration on Terminus' words prior would likely insinuate on such thoughts.

"There are only two of us... But it should prove enough, I'm certain. A subtle feeding of mana, given all that has beenapplied as tribute thus far throughout their conception? Shall be enough to ensure their conjuring in full."

While the words were spoken in confidence, there was an unspoken risk.
The attempt to conjure them properly, with so few ritual participants led to the real possibility that the conjuration would falter. An egg could be lost... One of the spawn perishing to meld with the remaining, if not all but one.
(Terminus)

[13:14] The man gave a simple nod at the request of assistance with a ritual to ensure the brood they were working to ensure were ready, loyal, and prepared for the world at large.

"I assume the eggs are separated... To prevent any hatchling demons from immediately assaulting the other eggs in vying for sustenance? From what I know, lest you have some grander plan to ensure they don't slaughter one another, they will likely attack anything that moves the moment they come out."

Not that it truly mattered on the whole. So long as one survived? More could eventually be synthesized with more successful iterations of the rituals.

Orfeas turned on a heel with that, to follow along, assumedly towards one of the pits that held their yet-to-be spawn.

"I will say. It is wise that they grow accustomed to my own mana early- The traces of necrotic mana mixed in should grant them reprieve in the undercroft you mentioned building, given they'dbe in close proximity to where the tree would likely be growing. Miasma would be far too thick for a non-magus to survive in without a boon or protective measure anyways."

An extra layer of security as well, most likely. To keep any intruders from escaping easily. Toxic miasma dealing the first blow, to permit the demons amidst it to deal the last.
(Orfeas)

[13:31] In the initial presumption, Terminus couldn't help but cackle.
Perhaps, the concern was genuine -- Demons were known to be cannibalistic as well. Not much intelligence went about their spawnlings.
"It is a common misconception of spawned Imps, that they bear no intellect. They are alive as most other things, not unlike human spawnlings.

They hunger, they cry... In their own unique way." He explained, "They inherently understand the very essence of the abyss that stains their flesh, and channels through their leylines. Though, they -are- capable of limited thought. It is superior to that of something truly mindless... Otherwise, demonology would simply cease to be.

All aspects of it, would've been prone to charging into doomed encounters, exterminating them before they ever bore a foothold in the physical realm here." That would explain why they probably wouldn't dare to charge -him- or maybe Orfeas, if they demonstrated a magus likeness and the illusion of applied attention.

Though, it didn't explain why they wouldn't try to consume their unborn brethren or the nonmagi upon the island. "They should all be born simultaneously... And if they shouldn't? They are defected, a proper initial sacrifice.

Quite frankly, I expect failure... There is a reason that Kaors aren't common. Though, for as long as they're alive? We grow ever-the-slightest closer to the Vision being achieved."

Terminus stopped short to gaze upon his nest.
Three large amber orbs, challenging the size of a grown man's torso - fitting given his massive size.

"Yes... An added aspect couldn't hurt... Not at all."
There was some thought however...
Still mulling over how exactly he planned to carry things out -- what properties to the ritual did he wantto commit to. What ideas had he not considered yet??

So many possibilities...
In a way, he was silently inviting Orfeas to speak up on the matter, before he made his decision and started his efforts.
(Terminus)

[13:45] An eye-roll came from that hyping of expecting failure. Of the trial by fire their spawn were meant to perform upon birth. They found zero inspiration in it. Let alone any decent planning.

"In other words, you're gambling with this ploy." They'd point out. There was no certainty they'd all survive. That they'd not maim eachother. That they'd even live long enough to witness being anything more than a Mega Class Demon.

"How have your plots fallen to the point of desperation of that degree- You have followers now... You mention rituals, but from the sounds of it you don't even know what they might accomplish... Either because this is the first round, or because you're just aiming for any kind of win at this point after confronting Varrach assumedly did not work as intended..."

They shook their head. Hinging their designs on demons that don't even exist yet- Not even knowing what personal ploys they might come to have!

"How, even, did you intend on maintaining their obeisance? Prior to my return, you would not even have had access to something like the mark I could employ-

One cannot just slap a concept together, draw a pentacle, and call it a ritual- Empty leylines convey the bare minimum of the intent- Rendering influx of mana from other mages nigh useless, if not problematic to the equation.

Did you write out the formula? Experiment with it? Test it on anything- Even a mere animal- To make sure it would act towards the intended end? There are steps to ensure minimal risk of failure beyond throwing proverbial eggs at a wall, hoping for a breakthrough, and I would like to ensure that is not all this is at the moment."
(Orfeas)

[14:32] Gambling?

Terminus's sights were locked steadily upon his brood of eggs, listening in silence and idling as the words were carried out. He let Orfeas say their piece in dejection -- in avid, justified concern.
Perhaps, in some aspects? They were even right.

Though, nothing was said as they spoke. In fact? Even after they finished -- he allowed for a brief period of time, as though expecting more to follow.

Clearly, his words were being chosen -- and with his gander remaining unmoved from his future brood, he spoke at last.

"The matter of their survival, as is every living thing on this forsaken continent, is a gamble... Acknowledgement of their potential demise at the hands of the magi abroad, courtesy of some unforeseen power, race, weapon or mechanism conjured is far from delusion.

I have witnessed titans fall before. This is no different." He claimed, likely intent on clarifying his claim.

"I have forged pacts with dozens of humans: Magi... Covens... Demons even, across the last few years in your absence.
Proto-settlements have acknowledged my presence... Relinquishing aspects of themselves to see their very anatomy warped at my touch."

Whereas demons of youth would find their ego challenged and pride slammed upon? The ancient looked on with an expression that insinuated indifference. Their upper-right arm rose high above, cast off for the encampments nearby -- but nothing visible manifested upon his projected hand.

Was he casting some sort of spell? A means of influence invisible to the eye? To the senses?

"Champions have been risen... Forced to face off against renown titans of Delphina - transformed by my touch and runic practices, empowered and ascended alike...

And despite such, newer iterations still fall. Slightly shy of the mark, with the gap closing with every effort. The most successful damned to imminent demise by Fate's cruel antics, leaving observation of considered true success in this latest endeavor - relinquished of his sights.

You speak in ignorance of the events that have played out away from your gaze... You have not met the champions wrought of my flesh.
The tests...
The theories...
The rituals...
None of it."
The Demon Patron's head turned in fluid fashion, now reflecting its solid crimson hues upon Orfeas. This entire time, he spoke without spite nor anger... At least, not openly -- it was tempered. Controlled.
He had a goal after-all.

"But you shall... In time, you shall."

He held his posture for the while, likely offering Orfeas the opportunity to speak up, whether in retort, disagreement or general acknowledge before a nonmagus cultists would start on their way with... something in their possession.

A few nonmagus cultists in fact...
Books - Concepts. Studies. History...

Soon to be presented to quell Orfeas' concerns, and potentially sate their curiosity as to a matter carried out in Terminus' antics here.
Amongst the menagerie of literature? One could behold titles such as:

- The Advanced Applications Of Occult Geometry
- The History Of The Heralds Of The End
- The Study of Magus Anatomy

Terminus' hand fell -- the psionic summon complete, leaving them to their devices.

There was some further consideration in one's words...
Perhaps, a disdain towards sacrifice? After all, it was the occult tainted mana that kept them nourished. With a margin of error provided, surely he was far from wrong in his assertations, right?

"The matter of subservience comes natural in their youth...
--but as they grow, they will fall into their own, likely to pursue means of power. I have beenperfecting my mark, and the ascension rituals I've wrought have grown more effective with every iteration.

Assurance of such boons will keep them in line... Though, there is the constant matter of risk...

...There is always that matter of risk...

Surely, you understand such as well. The potential for an unseen X factor...
Vana'rath is a prime example of such... However, I would've never presumed he would've retired to the Dreamscape and relinquished his physical possessions.

The avian demonspawn of Sak'noth having posed suspicious antics amongst the isle so long ago, was yet another one of these unseen X factors.

--and now? I have come to realize the necessity of such risk in a controlled manner - for the rewards we intend to reap.

If your desire is to know whether or not such endeavors were doomed without your presence? You will find it is expedited by it instead."
If ever there was spoken confidence in anything spoken by the Ancient, it was this.

Years of practice.
Years of effort.
And only recently? An irritant to rise him to immediate pre-emptive action. While rushed? The result would prove close enough to what he desi
(Terminus)

[14:41] [RP Broke -- continuing post]

The result would prove close enough to what he desired.
Something, while not totally enthralled, that pursued the boons he offered. Until he was able to properly complete his efforts.
(Terminus)

[14:53] "Indeed. I've not been present. And I do not know what you've been up to during my years of reclusive study to gleam what I could from further experimentation in my own art." They'd nod with a brief hum to pair with it.

"Merely concerned. Even the mutations brought by Imperfection? They never assure loyalty. As proven by the Bastard Child.

But if you're content with the risks known. I will aid as I can. Keeping in mind, I still recommend the aforementioned failsafe of a dormant Maker's Mark. To be triggered in the event of confirmed betrayal."

Beyond that, their attentions turned to the amassed followers, slowly shaking his head. Mentally noting the lot of them would be at risk as well. Which furthermore, could throw their faith in the Patron askew, should they act out in their years as Lessers.

"That bein said. I will bluntly refer to you. In what time that is left in this day- What shall we do that is productive towards that end? It is your project. Your decision."

Strangely enough, for once... The man wasn't throwing second thoughts towards the Demon Patron continuously. Offering immediate support, instead of just delaying it. Consequences would be faced later, depending.
(Orfeas)
[15:55] Was that... An interloper? A few nonmagus cultists' scoured about to the sounds of disturbance amongst the foliage within the treeline. The gargantuan Demon Patron's eyes turned towards the source of the disturbance, making few steps in the direction of...

A ship, setting sail from an anchored position by the island. It would appear that someone had scouted the area out, and was promptly fleeing the scene. There was consideration to pursue -- though, to what end...
Surely, if they were bold enough to charge into the magus forces here, or even impart damage on the vulnerable nonmagus ilk? They would've insinuated a clear alignment against their forces...

Such was not the case -- likely someone that stumbled upon them, wanting no relations with their kin.

"A matter to be addressed at a later date."
After all, they couldn't shroud themselves from the world forever.


Attention shifted, falling back upon his eggs.
"Send for the others..." He spoke aloud, referring to the nonmagus masses at-bay.

Amongst them, few lesser magi at the ready. Not nearly capable of taking on a realized magi amongst the Meranthean wilds, but likely more than enough for an awakening ritual to forcibly induce the conjuring of Terminus' demonspawn from their eggs.

"Procure the necessary tribute... The time to initiate their rise is at-hand."

Alas, eyes focused on the greater aspects of the nest could reveal the transmutation circles, purposefully grafted through the soil with runic instructions scribed amongst them -- texts that sought to act upon the principles of Occult Geometry -- however, within them? A Pentacle with five points, soon bestowed upon by elemental crystallizations of mana courtesy of busied nonmagus cultists making their preparations.It was a tad bit underwhelming in potency -- but such an endeavor was merely to conjure them, as opposed to ascend.

He hadn't the consideration, nor the resources to spare anything more on an uninsured prospect. This was all the risk he was willing to offer, given what he had faced thus far.

"The runes encircling my brood follow the principles briefly touched within the Litany." He explained, "I have further investigated the very properties of this in-depth, after you have introduced it to me prior to my own studies.

Given only the two of us present? Such shall invoke beyond the unexplained status of the 'Magus Standard of Initiation', into Purpose - The Rule Of Two."

One of them would initiate the spell...
The other? Would enforce the purpose of the spell.
Without a third? The potential for success was thrown into question -- perhaps, Orfeas knew this much.

Given the lack of other suitable magi capable of providing the necessary mana throughout the invocation? Such would be the full extent of what they could accomplish at the moment. The nonmagus cultists took to kneels along the perimeter of the transmutation circle, hands on knees and heads lowered beneath overcasts hoods.

The collective hums of their persons followed the manners of vocal incantation. What little mana -one- of them could manage to cast from themselves, the overwhelming populace could manage in tandem.
Perhaps, it was an attempt to compensate for the lack of a -third- prominent magi?

"As you can see... The instructions scribed here shall direct what small aspects of me are sacrificed to provide template for their manifestation. The eggs are merely their transitionary medium prior to taking physical form. Any margin of error will simply result in what fails to take form, manifesting as residual mana in an incomplete vessel.

Reason enough for an initial sacrifice upon their spawning." Explained the Ancient Kaor -- though, given the principles of this runework, such would imply that -he- would have to take the role of purpose. Which left Orfeas to be the initiator.

The elemental crystals had yet to have their purpose explained however...
"The five physical elements shall stabilize the efforts. You should know... To prevent from unforeseen influences upon the effort beyond the target source: Hel. It is limited due to the feeble potency of these tributes, but sufficient for spawnling of this variety.

They will lack much potency in and of themselves, much akin to the nonmagus ilk here... Which is why conjuring them shouldn't require too much."
Standing at the fringe of the leylines grafted in the ground, he sought to physically connect himself to this unpowered, artificial circuit -- just as he expected Orfeas to do in kind on the opposite side of the product.

"Are there any questions, before we begin?"
(Terminus)

[16:05] The man gave a slow nod per the instruction. Everything seemed in order as far as they could tell. Even though they did get one teensy thing incorrect- Though it wasn't problematic given the resources at hand.

"Five crystals would not be stability- But the rule of Ambition. Not that it matters. Elements grounded in the material plane should do well enough to prohibit much interference." They'd remark, taking steps towards the position gestured to by the Demonic Patron. Leaving twisted flora in their own wake with every step they took-

Something that made them pause, before taking a deep breath, as they focused on suppression of the mingling of their clashing magics. Rendering normalcy as their aura for the time being.

If just not to let any of the necrotic essence they were suffused with leak into the ritual itself!

"I'd ask only if you want me to do anything more than supply mana. Any extra steps, or other? I can reinforce the ritual easily, howev-" Er?

They cut themselves off, turning their head with a cold glare at a new presence showing up. Not as if they'd give warm receptions to anyone they didn't recognize at this point.

Strangers had a tendency to complicate things in one way or another.

"As well... Is this an... Acquaintance of yourse...?"
(Orfeas)

[16:14] From the treeline, a third magi appears.

Face ever shrouded by hood save gimlet gaze of sienna that espies the ritual circle. The runic script oft an occult nature scrawled over grass beyond thine understanding of magic in truth.

Yet familiarity, was this akin to the ritual underwoven prior..? A grimace rises upon face momentarily. His knowledge, it was lacking - a disappointment to be certain..

He could not parse the words herein writ across the vested pages of the Book of Kraus. Should there be an opportunity at a later date once he had furthered his understanding on magic - once more could an attempt be made.

He required a more diverse spectrum theoretical knowledge, instead of the knowledge he currently had.

Which was just unleashing mana, and drawing forth the attention of that nameless star upon high. Or even summoning the flighty tempests of air he so wielded at times. His voice entreats, speaking lightly.

Laying out a few tidbits of interest after he speaks at Orfeas, even as he lowered his hood. Revealing face, the island was rather remote and his hair and tail were dyed a dark shade of brown.

"An acquaintance? I am but a humble Famulus, of Balar. My name is Erenthius, though when I wear my hood my alias is Ceiswyr Tywyllwch." There's a brief lull, a brief pause.

"Unreality, in gloomlight is interesting. Did you know it is home to the kaor blade of Na'Ria, a former imperfect that they're trying to resurrect. And even a book that proved mightily complex to understand. I tried reading the gospel of Wisdom within. It's apparently the Book Of Kraus." Eyes flit to the ritual, afore he speaks once more. "Do you need an extra magi to assist?"
(Ceiswyr Tywyllwch)

[16:24] "Ah, yes - I must've misspoke. Such is the Rule of Four for Stability. The Rule of Five... Ambition, yes."

Eyes shifted to acknowledge the wolfin Beastkin without concern -- it was clear based on their lack of reaction that he had either seen them before or considered them a non-threat despite the vulnerable eggs in proximity.

"I did not take consideration as to the full extent of your prowess and newfound capabilities." He continued to speak to Orfeas, despite his attention lying upon Erenthius. "I have yet to examine them all... Though, I am curious... Willing to 'take a gamble'" He prodded at their previously expressed concerns with yet another X-factor: One that he seemed fairly comfortable with.

If that was supposed to be the demon's attempt of a joke -- there was no batted grin, smile, nor chortle to insinuate such, morbidly solemn in facial expression throughout.

As Erenthius spoke, Terminus came to a realization...
Had Orfeas come to know of the titles and names he had established during their study? Nay... As far as they were concerned -- 'Balar' was that of a stranger.

He had finally returned with intel from Gloomlight -- where Tal'guth supposedly taken refuge.

"Ah, Famulus Erenthius. You've returned..." They were greeted upon introducing themselves to Orfeas.
"You have not familiarized yourself with Orfeas here. The first pacted amongst you -- his path, however follows a slightly different accord.

Perhaps, your collaboration with them shall bear fruit in your efforts in time... Between your expeditions for information from the mainland, of course."
Unreality? Na'Ria? The Book Of Kraus? The latter of the mix was something he was eerily familiar with.

"Your attendence should aid in assuring successof this ritual. The nonmagus accompaniments prove a risky factor -- but you, bear enough to provide insurance."
(Terminus)

[16:34] Erenthius nods. Listening as he strode towards the circle, walking the border, until nearing the top portion.

Standing astride runic script.

Not speaking momentarily.

The beastkin of the wolf heritage hummed lightly.

"Well met Orfeas."

The ookami smiled, a quick grin that settled o'er visage. A flash of incisors that quietly faded as lips covered teeth once more.

"Shall we get started with the ritual then?" He queried posing his question towards Terminus. Standing at the ready to offer his assistance, however he could. He had heard bits and pieces as he neared, this ritual. He glanced at the nearby eggs. It was to birth more demons? Spawn of Terminus perhaps?

Look at that, he learned something new. Demon's could create more of their kind..
(Erenthius C. Meeksworth)
[16:49] "I see. Very well. They shall answer to this cause, and no other." They'd remark at the mention from them. Sighing as they let loose again. Necrotic essence suffusing itself into the soil beneath them, to roil it- Rotting the flora beneath their feet, before it started to blacken, and then grow in unnatural, brittle iterations.

Before he began, the man nodded towards the Patron's follower. "Well met to you as well."

"Now then." They'd remark, preparing their own part, as they spoke...

"As witness to these unborn-
Upon thee, a curse inlaid.
Thy purpose known, to serve the End.
Upon thee, be mine gift- Key to Life in Death.
Incur not thine progenitor's wrath-
Lest it be made to despoil, rot, decay.
Should from thee, betrayal arise?
Thy flesh shall fall, and essence of life repurposed.
For thou are to serve the End. No matter the form."

The man spoke in a cold, indifferent tone throughout- Hardly considering the fact that they were damning the children of the Patron in the process. After all, it was Terminus' will they would follow, or perish in betrayal.

Their usefulness to the cause would inevitably determine their lifespan. But no matter the case? They would serve in bringing about the End.

Such would be assured as the curse manifested itself, and permitted such to be known well to the magi and demon present- As well as the non-magus who may be observing- The earth beneath their feed shuddering, as blackened vines lined with emeraldine, necrotic essence rolled, and encircled the eggs.

The curse prepared for the moment that the Patron began the rite they had intended even without the Necromancer's assistance.

"All is ready. It will be fed into the eggs along with the flow of mana- Ensuring it binds with their flesh in totality- That their very regeneration will ensure it exists dormant within them."
(Orfeas)

Terminus did not wait for Orfeas to finish their efforts -- opting to initiate the ritual while they conducted their incantations.

Two arms were raised... To welcome the breadth of the world high above... Whilst the remaining two cast forth to one's sides -- open palms facing the nest at the center of the nest.

"Of course." He answered unto Erenthius, eyes closing to shut out the light of day.

The presence of Indras could be felt well -- He was here, and armageddon was being wagered across the mainland. Here however? They were far enough away to avoid the immediate eradication faced by those faced with conflict. It did not mean they would be totally spared of the aftermath -- but the guaranteed retaliatory forces of Meranthe would likely mitigate whatever would've found itself scouring out here.

At least, those that weren't actively fleeing refugees of the unfortunate devastation.

The lavender gleam of the incantation circles shined around the gaggle, showering upward in an etheric miasma of mana. The refraction of the atmosphere implied heat bestowed from the Fire elemental crystal, soon igniting full with flame.

Then, its elemental opposite -Water- wrought forth from an aquatic aegis sheathing it, rolling about in aerial suspension. The constant breaches within its own tumultuous splashed forth a mist that rolled in for itself, emulating a spherical shape in the end to mirror its counterpart.

The world underfoot quaked as Orfeas spoke an incantation, chunks of Earth unperturbed by the ignited shapes and inscriptions marring the earth underfoot tore from the ground -- hovering briefly before gravitating towards their respective elemental mana crystal.

The atmosphere was wrought to turmoil -- Air, was manipulated through the emerald elemental crystal -- battering and testing at the purchase of their collective feet upon a quaking ground.

All of such playing out with the incessant humming buzz of magus static. It was complemented with the occasional jab of Lightning magic arcing at the nearby leylines, crawling it its sprawl with threatening proximity to the likes of the magus participants.

By now, the introduction of a necrotic spell in the mix was applied -- with Terminus powering the runework underfoot.
"Initiation.
Purpose."
The accomplishment of two... Leaving --

"Erenthius… Channel your mana through the leylines, and refine one's mind... Hone one's Hatred and draw forth the power of the Abyss. Focus it upon the center of the circle, upon the brood.

There may be escaping essence, for there are only -three- of us. The principles of Occult Geometry apply to all aspects. Thus, the stability is bound to be thrown into question... You will commit to what you can, to preventing the elemental crystals from spilling from their anchoring points. Otherwise, such prone to unraveling the stability of their conjuring."

The Patron instructed, before...
A subtle wince of their image, with the air shortly above the ritual taking place wavering -- similar to the same refraction taking place around the Fire mana crystal... Except, something was... Taking form?

It was no question that Terminus could transmogrify his physical form, in favor for an etheric presence. However, material he took to his 'inventory' typically required a place to put them. Without apparel akin to humans? Such was exhibited by the constant exercise of telekinesis. One such display of telekinesis imparted upon material subjected to the same transmogrification spell he induced upon himself.

Thus, a mound of cancerous flesh manifestedfrom ebony ichor above, slowly levitating downward.

"A shedding from my flesh." Terminus narrated, "It would seem that in being cursed by Varrach's magic over Death, my body has been inefficient in regenerating properly. Such sheddings find use in moments like this..."
It was slowly lowered down, degenerating as it was subjected to one's use of Reverse Occultic Casting. The fleshy material was seemingly alive, trying desperately to exist despite its doomed stature -- prone to perish without the remainder of Terminus' body.

However, in being disintegrated amidst this spell? It could find a new existence... As his future spawn. The eggs wobbled, warped upon -- irking to and fro within the slimy membrane encasing them. Such a sheathing substance boiled away before the eyes of the collective.

"Maledictus morte.

Filioli mei, ego do vobis carnem meam.

Per terram ego mando tibi:

Formam accipe. Obrue te visionis novitate."

Amongst them, only -one- of the three swelled up, showcasing a physical blip amidst the amber. Though, the effort was still in tow - with a slowly distintegrating blob of disembodied flesh from Terminus suspended in the air above the ritualistic circle.

It was up to Erenthius to keep things in check now, to invoke The Rule of Three: Success.
(Terminus)
[17:55] The man gave a low sigh at the single remark given to them from the other. Maintaining the prepared curse was difficult enough- But so be it.

The man brought their hands in effort to guide their current conjured spell- The vines lurching, and burrowing through the earth, entwining abouts the runic inscriptions, as though to interlock and entwine.

Finally, the ends of the tendril-like manifestation spiraled towards that singular egg that actually had life within it! The vines turning etheric, as they feed into the amber-colored object. Seeking to entwine itself with whatever life it hosted amidst the rite of awakening the Patron's spawn.

All the while, the vines seemed to limit motions of the mana- restricting it towards the purpose of the rite alone, and adding more pathways directly to the entity that was still encased.

Such was their apparent, assigned task anyways- Ensuring that what was done here served its intended Purpose, whilst the others played their roles.

Doing what they could with the groundwork laid to ensure the others could have an easier time with their own parts. After all, based on the response- They only had a single egg for the moment to work with- One that survived up until this point. And mature enough to react.
(Orfeas)

[18:15] The Ookami lightly smiled, as sienna hues cast a gander at the nearby eggs. Magic spun forth, as various crystals were brought to bear.

Casting lingering traces of elemental magic to percolate.

The fire crystal steadily burned.

A-lit with a furious flame that sizzled and spat heat. Brought to bear under the intent of Terminus's etheric mana being directed alike the sharpened edge of a honed scalpel.

From the water crystal flowed a faint mist. Hanging about aquatic aegis, in a spherical guise. It churned alike a fog that sharpened it's opaque-ness into a dense mass.

The ground rumbled. ass earth split. Upturning soil rippling forth, crude dark if rich soil seemed to be adjacent the earthen crystal which hung precariously o'er rupturing ground.

The sensation of air, of a free element bound. Gusts of wind whispered forth, causing a disjoint-ness of noise of on-rushing cadence even as clothing billowed under its sway. Erenthius's knee bent if only to hasten his balance under the veritable gusts of wind that sought to see him flung over.

Yet all of this paled in comparison to the swift arc's of superimposed plasma that raced upon runic ley-lines around the humming lightning crystal which rang forth with the sound of hissing static..

Words flowed unto ears, the hung ever suspended, 'ere they came from mouth. Lips moved, though voice intermitted within psyche instead. Burrowing, and passing forthwith instruction.

Motes of ether persisted about form. Mana grasped, and tugged from within circuitry, and guided to feet. Channeled via skin contact unto runic array. Blue mana shrouded being, as an aura, yet the aura gave way to cosmic ordinance. Faintly birthed upon being as just a little of the mana was utilized to empower circuitry further, so that more mana could be channeled unto the ritual's confined proximity.

An ethereal shroud that hummed against figure.

The ookami hissed lightly, as he thought inwardly. Drawing forth upon being, upon his sense of self. Hatred, what did he hate? The Ookami huffed, as he thought further. His own weakness.

It was galling, it spurred him forth to strive at gathering strength. Strength that he presently lacked. Teeth gnashed, and they clenched. He hated how, none would offer to Exallarch-Saekanis. They offered no blood, nor sacrifices - nor mana to the heavens.

His tribe, he hated the prophet of it. Reviled them, for how they were stronger than he. Was it any wonder he vested for thine position. His envy turned to spite, then hatred. He sought to surpass them, by too gaining Exallarch-Saekanis's notice, yet said notice would be harnessed for more than just rituals...

Mana cast upon the ritual, as the Ookami opened his sienna hues. Narrowing his gaze upon the brood, and pushed out his lingering hate. A small inferno - pitiful and weak, it had to grow further. Stokedinto a hatred of other things - nurtured, and brought to forbearance. Honed alike a knife sharpened.

Across form, and brought to bear, the backdrop of power felt beyond island shores. A corruptive influence. A baleful power presented to his limited senses. Similar to the occultic embrace presently felt via this ritual. Yet it was more. Far more.. The Ookami shivered feeling the darkness as if it was almost present within himself. That abyssal power, something he lacked. It was as if he could reach for it. A corrupting seed akin sprouting and flourish flowers under skin. Blossoming like malign tumour. Something so close to being grasped, alike his last breath.

What was that hovering in the air? Shed flesh - mass from Terminus?
Watching as the shed mass entreated unto the ritual circle. Detaching from Terminus's being. The mass akin to a splotch of fetid darkness hung suspended momentarily.

Akin to hungering ink, that subsumed the light around itself. Transmogrified flesh that suffused forth, upon the eggs. Upon the spawn to be that wriggled with membraned shells.
(Erenthius C. Meeksworth)

[18:40] The amber eggs shifted to...
Shifted for...

One of which swelling just a bit more -- the spongy-like material along the outside of the shell allowed for it to flex. Though, stretchy as it was? It hardened the further apart it expanded. They pulsated sapphire, only to warp for the same vermillion as the occultic energies flowing abroad. They were feeding off of the Ancient's flesh...
Off of the Ancient's reserves...
--and it was bathing the entire scene within depths of abyssal magic that'd consume at the psyche of those unrealized to its deeper depths.

To magus circuitry susceptible to its tampering -- it encircles them, corrupting them as it entangled with the mind. One refined -- honed in on themselves, steeled against outside agency could resist it. The enthrallment of the weaker-willed was a common occurrence, and to succumb to the Dark Arts was to surrender one's claim to Willpower. It was to embrace one's inner emotion and negative essence with reckless abandon. It invited enthrallment to one's passions... To one's spite and hate...
It opened the door to all of one's darkest inhibitions -- which also enabled its masters to venture past such corridor as well -- commanding control from the deepest of its unfathomable depths.

Erenthius was directed to project their essence -- their mana and embroil themselves in Hate. However, the powers of the abyss were not theirs to control. It was as though the power itself proved sentient -- finding prey in those that found themselves festering such emotion. Casting mana upon the ritual connected them to -everything- that flowed freely through it; the feedback would therefore take unto him.

As the suspended mound of flesh broke apart, perhaps it would be noticed. The amount presented was intended for three eggs... With two of them dead, but enriched with mana, only so much could calcify at the exterior of the egg's membrane. The remainder simply transmogrified into raw occultic mana. Though, how much mana could an unborn demon consume...

Perhaps, the limitation was seemingly limitless until it evolved -- however? There was bound to be run-off; a baby could only consume so much at once. This energy digression engulfed the participants of the ritual. It was as though the world abroad was rendered to naught, omitted for an opaque blackness.
All that was? Was the transmutation circle amidst a blank canvas of existence... The mana crystals broke the monotony of this pseudo-scape wrought across the collective consciousness of those nigh.

Terminus.
Orfeas.
Erenthius.
And the unborn demon-spawn...

However, amongst these numbers, one of which seemed to be subjected to a deeper encumbrance than the rest - Erenthius would find themselves pried down into a freefall -- one forged within the mind. Their hate would be their downfall, and through their descent, they could find power in what others regarded as weak.
It was that metaphorical seed being planted upon the fertile soils of his emotions... His nature...
His humanity, attempting to dabble in powers that were never meant for it.

Would he reach out? Would he take it...
These small inklings of Terminus that invited one into the depths he was born from... Reached back, willing to take their hand and show them how far the depths could go. Blind for now, eventually he too - would see:
A Seer Of Darkness, to be realized.

Of the three eggs, one of them found the vines of Orfeas' spell wrought to it -- through it, feeding at it to foster its emergence. Slowly, the mote of flesh within twisted at itself, expanding even, flexing into something that'd resemble something humanoid -- the common lesser demon phenotype, albeit in fetal status. It was absorbing the biomaterial being broken down from above the ritualistic circle, whilst siphoning up the mana-rich material within the translucent amber egg. It wouldn't be long before it filled up the space within, clutching tightly to itself to thrust from within the egg. The external integrity cracked!
However, it seemed to immediately harden, resealing itself in a stronger sheath akin to its inherent regenerative properties.

The other two 'dead eggs' slowly faded from a bright amber, through a spectrum of lavender unto black. Mana-rich biomatter was all that would remain of the presumed siblings, a disappointment but an expectation of the process. There was always the potential for another future ritual.
(Terminus)

[18:40] Could they feel it?
Reverberations providing feedback through the ritualistic circle -- a pulsation that palpitated back against them all?
It was... a heartbeat.
One of the eggs appeared to be responsive -- better than total failure.

"Nunc factus es.

Aperies oculos tuos mundo maledicto.

Iram peccatorum foris invocabis.

Tu pars mei."
By now, the decision by Erenthius would've been made -- whether overtly obvious? Or silently implicated.
As the world came to once again? The mound of flesh suspended in the air would've been rendered to naught but a memory.
The transmutation circles lost of their lavender gleam -- dried of their fueled mana.

Two of the three eggs remained blackened, calcified to some degree, with mana-rich biomass within them, with the remaining hardening its translucent shell, revealing the shadow of a humanoid creature in fetal position. To place one's hand upon it, would enable one to feel its heartbeat, softly pounding against the shell
"Mea Nightreaper"

The Felspeak of the ancient had come to a close, its arms lowered at last.
A frown was visible upon its features, for more had faltered than it had anticipated -- its gamble had proven less than optimal, but not a total loss.
The First Nightreaper to be unveiled upon Meranthe, was at-hand.

The nonmagus ilk started on their clean-up duties, discarding debris cast abroad the scene throughout the effort. Terminus, started on his wander -- away from the immediate scene to brood on the situation at-large beyond the sea. Surely, a battle for Meranthe's continued existence was playing out. Surely, he expected the success of Meranthean forces...
Though, it left the question...
What was to be their first target?
How long would it take, before the first Nightreaper was ready?
(Terminus)

[18:56] As the ritual went on, and Terminus did most of the heavy lifting with the runework and intent on the matter? Orfeas maintained a split focus up until the last moment, where they had to finish up their own spell.

Forcing the vine-like conjurations to abscond from the earthen crust beneath their feat, leaving blackened soil in their wake, as it fed into the single egg in their entirety- Granting it the so-called 'gift' from Orfeas.

To be born with a dormant mark of the Necromancer's making upon its emergence.

Hopefully something they'd never actually have to use against the Nightreaper. And instead could eventually be a strength to it.

Beyond this? Orfeas' maintenance of the ritual could hardly be all that scholarly brain was up to. Staring. Taking notes. There was almost a sort of absence in the eggs prior to the introduction of the materials used.

And yet this rite permitted the creation of a Demonspawn with utterly minimal input of flesh. Even if it needed time to develop still? It was all worth note.

Wordlessly, the man stared at the husks by the end of the ritual. Taking a step forward to the lifeless eggs, and pressed a hand against one such unsuccessful attempt. And starting to pulse mana through it. Just as they would a corpse to make a skeletal puppet.

Probing. Scanning. Trying to discern the mystery of how it functioned- Fragment by fragment of its circuitry.

After all, he had mentioned in the past, of creating something all too similar. Yet Terminus may have been the cornerstone of this research all along!

"Hmm... Regenerative outer shell... The fluid within... I cannot discern... It consumes mana... Coalesces it... Into a sample of flesh... The parent is a template... Which I suppose isn't problematic for demons- Given how their growth functions- They mutate in unique ways upon every 'evolution'..."

They'd ramble a bit, thinking aloud.

"Terminus... Methinks we should keep these failures- The husked eggs... We can graft them to the other project... And make it a renewable source of homunculi and demons."
(Orfeas)

[19:23] Magi were oft susceptible to malign influence.

Directed to pour mana unto ritual, to sup of the hate within being. Guiding it. Directing it unto the eggs meant to be hatched, the spawn of Terminus. Born to follow thine will, and fester growth under Terminus's guidance. The mana, the abyssal outsourcing of hate Erenthius guided forthwith, was not something he'd ever channeled prior. The attempt, it felt as if the destructive power were eked only to slip from grasp. Akin a drawn breath, held tightly before it's release-ment.

Sentience albeit a twisted sort. The ritual created a feedback loop. Dark arts of malefic design were manifested, and channeled forth, an attempt at channeling such.

The actions of the uninformed - lacking theoretical knowledge, his action dared to have a consequence after all. He would not be spared the pitfall of such an actionable intent. An embracement of negativity, of flick'ring willpower sundered to baser intent,inner emotions grasped tautly and negative emotions left to fester..until they began to boil over.

A sensation of weightlessness, freefall stole over being. A gag escaping mouth, noise carrying as he slumped over. Within psyche, an oblivion of darkness greeted entirety. The chasm of blackness stole breath from rattling lungs, as if night covered everything in a film of ink. There was no light. No warmth, only blistering chill. Arising coldness. The coldness pressed upon metaphysical mass alike an encumbrance, he could not move. He could not rise from his prone position upon resting knees.

Even as non-magi began to clean up the ritual site. Even as Orfeas wandered towards an egg, and spoke to Terminus. Words echoed, heard. They played like sound, yet hung suspended with quiet. Sentence unheard, as sienna hues gazed at nothingness. The chasm of bleakness was all around, an oblivion that pressed forth upon being.

Invading, taking root..alike a stain that would not wash out. Alike a dark rose reaching for the tepid light of a black moon underneath a starless sky..

The Ookami stirred. Phantasms of darkness greeted his emptied gaze, eyes deadened. The darkness, within. A figure. A ghastly sight of darkness made manifest. Emotions churned within being, a steady thrum, akin to beating heart. The Ookami stood rising upon unsteady feet swaying slightly. A clack of tongue against fanged teeth. Shoulder's rolling, as the dark figure seemed to entreat, sinking unto him. Descending unto him, as a sensation of power flooded being. Dark seed taking root.

HATE..

ANGER..

SELF-LOATHING..

MALICE..

PURPOSE..

DESIRE..

QUEST..

POWER..

AMBITION..

A voice expels from the back of throat, as nurtured, corruptive emotions fester upon psyche. The darkness, the fetid embraced oblivion abates. Dark baritone, intermingled with foreign words, as around form comes the blistering sensation of cosmic light. Though the light was dimming. Churning into a blackness. An aura of hungering darkness sequesters alike a darkened fire that suspended about form..

"Tywyllwch. Rwy'n teimlo ei fod yn gyffyrddiad, o fewn goleuo fy uchelgais. I gasglu hysbysiad Exallarch-Saekanis. Chwiliwr. Gweledydd. Proffwyd. Gwag. Y tynged hwn, yw fy nhynged fy hun."
(Erenthius C. Meeksworth)

[19:42] An insinuated use for failed eggs?
It slowed Terminus down in his departure, canting his head to consider the idea.

"Renewable source of homunculi and demons... Interesting."
Though, his back was still turned to them, he idled mulling on the words spoken by Orfeas. There was an obvious problem that would occur if both were confiscated.

"There must be -something- mana-rich for the demon-spawn to immediately consume. Once it hatches, they will be mana-starved. It is a critical moment in their existence, where their insured survival is unchallenged. Given the humans here prove too useful to casually sacrifice -- such must either be of an egg husk...
Or a sacrifice from the mainland. Anything rich in mana shall do... Otherwise, the concern you had of their ravenous charge for perceived easy prey will be realized."

Terminus' head straightened out, turning to acknowledge Orfeas outright. "I am confident between you both, it can be figured out."

That, was when the alien tongue spoken by Erenthius took to the air once more. Terminus paused, attempting to make out the individual meanings to each enunciation. Though, even now -- it was a language entirely foreign to him. Surely, he could take the time to mull about, to decode it even! However, such simply did not seem to be worth the time he should've spent possessing the nonmagus abroad to scribe more texts.

"Also, Orfeas… A side project for you. Famulus Erenthius here speaks in a foreign tongue that may cloak potentially useful information. Especially concerning their desired Patron -- Exallarch… Such, may ultimately reveal secrets that probe beyond the Pantheon present.

Decode such language, and I'm confident your studies can prove ever-the-more... fruitful..."
Without further intervention, he'd continue on hispace offwards -- gazing across the seas in silence.

Waiting... Attempting to sense out whatever could still be out there.
What would be of Meranthe after this cataclysm? Surely, its completion was instrumental to the prophecy he sought to accomplish.
(Terminus)