Terminus: Centricon-Eternal 2

[16:34] A faceless force seemed to wade a chill in the air.

It was a subtle smog spread out across the area, taking upon aspects of Mortyl to those inquisitive enough to mull it over. However, it seemed that a subtle surge of its essence was taking place. Something within Orfeas' possession was actively ebbing and shifting, as though demanding his attention.
(Terminus)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[16:35] Terminus's voice (to Orfeas): Is it done?
[16:35] Orfeas thinks, "Well... Terminus. The invitation went better than anticipated."
[16:35] Terminus's voice (to Orfeas): Ah... Yes... Perfect...
[16:38] Orfeas thinks, "Now that we're back, however... I would like to finally invoke the teachings of the Litany."
[16:39] Terminus's voice (to Orfeas): Then, it should go without saying further... Peer into the texts. I will provide you guidance.
[16:41] Orfeas thinks, "Then, let's head to the tilled patch. I will plant a seed again. And wait for a small amount of time, before invoking."
[16:41] Kar'anann ponders, "Any... new occurences?"
[16:43] Kar'anann chittered.
(Kar'anann)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[17:16] The HORROR stills at the mental intrusion, ignoring the water that dripped from it's frame, surely it hadn't walked from the mainland perchance under the ocean?

In the process of standing still, a casual glance ov'r the form of L'Innominato would reveal a myriad of seams upon injured flesh, his form recently seeming knitted back together, as if it had been dispersed. Not to mention the hole upon it's lower abdomen, of which nascent cosmic light filtered from akin to rays of the sunlit sphere cast high in the sky. Cosmic energy the Yokai could do nothing with, nor harness..

The seams part, opening to reveal sulfuric pupils of a yellowish tint. A myriad of eye's overlay the Elemental's tall if thin frame - the eyes rove within socket's grotesquely peering to and fro.

The HORROR's head tilts, a cranium of ebonyskin beset with spear-tip horns that jut upwards as if seeking to pierce upon the heaven'sthemselves and rupture them asunder..

The eyes of the Yokai, they're mainly placed upon a few of it's shoulder's and across an arm comprised of writhing screeching faces, faces that resemble rictus's of ghastly terror -- the faces they take on the guise of various lesser and mega yokai. Perhaps the Elemental had fed on them, or was still doing so?

A lone scarred, and almost glassy looking eye is placed upon the Yokai's chest - straight center mass, it was momentarily staring at of Orfeas.

Though it flits sharply in the direction of the crow, as it's mental words reach L'Innominato's psyche. The HORROR let's it maw part, revealing daggered incisors that gleam'd within cavernous depths, a parody of a human smile.

A mockery of such in truth, a slight hissing noise escapes lips. A disquieting sound of laughter. L'Innominato speaks outwardly, mental voice carrying forth, towards the crow,yet ultimately broadcasted to those nearby as well. "I am not new flesh little one. I am, one of the lingering remnants of the Fel. The last in truth. I am L'Innominato, adopted spawn of Eranath. And I am seeking to find allies to bring about a return to mine kin's golden age."

The aging Yokai fell silent, attention flitting back to Orfeas.
"Consider myself surprised upon my meandering away from the mainland to find a lone mortal on this rather small piece of land."
(L'Innominato)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[17:26] "Lingering? Lingering..." It trills, clicking as it looks over the macabre horror of L'innominato's body. A disjointed and horrific being of clumsily slopped together body parts and features, all tacked on into a horrifically hideous mess.

"You last so long? How?" The demon squalls. "Not know of Eranath, not know of what was before. Only the scattered masses, of our kind..."
(Kar'anann)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[17:29] The child that had been referenced as a mortal gave a seemingly annoyed hum. Not taking too kindly, this time, to being addressed in the slightest.

If due to the fact that it had been one in a series across weeks that had interrupted something that, to him, was of far greater importance than returning to the mainland for one reason or another.

Though, they did give momentary pause to stare at L'Innominato. Considering it was not a demon they yet encountered personally. Though, they did recognize it as the one a certain uppity child tried to fight in the months prior.

How odd it was, to witness it here. Though, they paid little mind to it beyond acknowledging it being present. Turning their head to the patch of ground with all the focus they did not afford the 'adopted spawn'.

"As... We were... Terminus... This isle... Feels like... A magnet for distraction..." They'd mutter, pulling out a duo of tomes.

One? The Litany in which Vana'rath had afforded them for study of. And the other? Terminus' own gift to the child, in the Centricon forged of the flesh the harbinger had abandoned.

Evidently, trying to cross-refence what the Litany afforded with the wisdom provided by Terminus himself.

"For starting... Will have to rely on the runic inscription... Until the casting becomes more... Muscle memory...

Imbibing the stream... Will likely require an incantation to pair... To force it into... Presence..."

Though, beyond these mutterings to the Centricon, they pause. Waiting for the master of the tome's input before acting hastily. Lest they lose a hand, or full limb, to recklessness.
(Orfeas)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[17:41] There was that of the arrival taking passage to the isle...
Then, there was the overhanging presence that finally revealed its source: The Centricon Of The Eternal, now being cross-referenced with The Litany offered by Vana'Rath himself.

Terminus' voice was not openly heard by those nearby, but the book's fleshy cover seemed to writhe in response to Orfeas. The utterance of voices of the damned spoke from the great beyond. The casting of an ancient spell underway, or so one could presume.

The atmosphere seemed to warp within close proximity to it, if only eversoslightly…
A mastery over Spatial Manipulation allowed for a faceless force to take hold at raw space, glitching at it with occultic flare-ups. Though, it seemed oddly directed, as though specifically contorting to the child's form.
(Terminus)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[17:41] Terminus's voice (to Orfeas): The runic language is one I have mastered throughout the years... Draw forth preparations to scribe... I will forge the letterings through your hand.

[17:53] The youth nodded along to... Well, nothing, as far as others might be able to tell for the moment. But, likely, communing through the centricon, and agreeing to something or other.

"Right..." They'd mutter, as they slowly knelt to the ground. Laying the Litany open, before themselves, so that the runic scripture was open to see for reference.

Now freed up a hand, they pull out the copper hoe that had once tilled this very land- In preparation to utterly ruin it next.

"Let us... Begin..."

The lad carefully lowers the hoe, so that the tip of the tool pressed into the soft dirt surrounding the seedbed. Making slow, cautious motions to begin the process of inscription.

This part? Was utterly unnecessary, beyond giving Terminus the initial motions to work with, and discern what the text had to say, based upon what was scrawled.

A powerless circle, given the needed method for imbibing the Deathstream should be through their very own circuitry. Not a crutch, such as a ritual circle. Lest they never become capable of conjuring it by will.

As thought intending it as a signal for the harbinger to assist next? They drop the instrument of cultivation, and hold out a hand.

A slow exhalation releasing smogs of deep green- The poisons that had steadily become natural to his circuitry. Spiraling outwards from their lungs, and gathering before their palm. To be the 'ink' from which the runes may be formed with the assistance of Terminus.
(Orfeas)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


[18:24] A powerless circle was drawn -- A starting place, for the ritual to be initiated. The entity taking to a spread out stature could recount on its interactions with the target brand of Black Magic quite well.

The particular radiance that Undeath wafted...
The malevolence that wrought it aloose…
The tie-in betwixt wrathful suffering, and the status of Death...
It was at the precipice of it all, lingering between it, and festering in abundance prior to Death's wake.

As Orfeas took to drawing with his copper hoe, the faceless force guided his hand to keep it true. It was in fact pointless, if not simply a steady realization that He was there.

A wick in the air, as though a soft breeze shifting direction brushed at the undergrowth. The atmosphere grew notably pungent with the residue of Occultism.

The casting of poisonous smog by Orfeas' doing, was not to be left unfettered. There was a tainting from beyond, cloaking the manifestations with miniature pyres of the transmundane.
All the while, a disembodied voice of the Demon Patron seemingly boomed its voice aloud.

"Per manus eius semper vivam…" It was in an ancient tongue... One native to Helheim and its denizens. It was as though a pen without physical stature were marring the soil, drawing forth markings of alchemic design. All the while, more ceaseless whispers ushered out, yet no discernable source. The estranged alphabet lined the inner-circumference of the shape before drafting artistry of inward curves and leylines... The chant continued throughout..."Non diutius iram mortalitatis patiar."

A general bleed of the profane soaked the soil, to act as an amplifier to the unveiling the child had in tow.

Everything was ready...
(Terminus)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


[18:49] With the additional effort to ease the capabilities of conjuring the Deathstream's influence upon the mortal plane- And by extension, breaking free from the veil that hid it so well?

They would raise their head upwards, flinging their arms into skyward reverence as well, as the attempted to invoke the Lifestream's very shadow.

For once, speaking in utter clarity, with every word billowing out fumes of roiling toxins into the air upon forcing mana through their vocals to cast- Building upon the groundwork that had so generously been provided to them.

"O' Sealed Shadow That Leaves All Bereft Of Life.

Tender Pox That Embraces All In Putrescent Embrace.

Grant Upon This Land Thy Velvety Repose In Decay.

Bring Upon It An End. Marked With Thy Dew Of Eternity."

A call to lay waste. To leave the land barren. Rife with nothing but rot, the necrotic force therein.

So did, in turn, the literal venomous call spiral about the immediate sky above. Before descending with fervor, to lend its decay upon the portion of the isle before the necromancer-to-be.

Though, it lacked any manner of true control over the rite. As the moment the infused toxins returned to earth? The soil ruptured in a roil of blackening greenery.

The seedlings themselves were immediately inflicted with deformity, before each inflating, to the point where they more resembled pustules in preparation to burst. As the grass turned to withered patches of stalks that could no longer be recognized.

Even a tree adjacent to the black encampment did not make it out unscathed. The leaves practically evaporating into mists of decay, as the bark cracked, and began collapsing upon itself.

And were it not for Terminus being present to assist? It was highly likely, that the youth's attempts would have seen theirown body eaten away by the swathe of decay, instead of their surroundings.
(Orfeas)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[19:04] The casting of corruption upon virgin soil was a given from the perspective of an ancient Kaor-Patron, however, the successful control over the ritual after its initiation? To add on to such, even the consideration of harvesting necromantic mana successfully? This, was something that the Helborne presence had no determination over.

The grimoire channels the powers that'd be through it, as though to intensify the ritual... Marring at soil, and the area abroad. The desolation crept awry, callous as to its targets -- just shy of consuming the perpetrator of the malefic spell.

Perhaps, there was little control...
Perhaps, little was harvested when the opportunity presented itself...
But the Kaor-Patron's practice within this seemingly ethereal state was honing its sharpness. Little by little, its claim to divination was hardening its grasp on the elaborate application of its powers via an instrument of its flesh.

As though feeding off of the raw profanity against the lands, the Centricon Of The Eternal summoned a mauve glimmer, humming with licks of the mana it siphoned away from the ritual for itself.
(Terminus)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[19:06] Terminus's voice (to Orfeas): Close... The design is present, the spell exact, ritual correct... But the control... Is not there... Not yet.
[19:07] Terminus's voice (to Orfeas): You may allow the demon to touch the Centricon... I will speak to them accordingly.
[19:09] Orfeas thinks, "Indeed... And very well... I shall attempt the ritual again... It will be weaker... But I need to focus on control..."
[19:10] Orfeas thinks, "That will be for tomorrow, though... THat was... Exhausting..."
[19:11] Terminus's voice (to Orfeas): Then, let it be...
[19:11] Orfeas thinks, "Very well... I'll be... Retiring for the night."
[19:12] Terminus's voice (to Orfeas): Rest, mortal...