Terminus: Pathology I

[17:48] Laurentius of Terminus enters once more, assuming his standard parade rest at the top of the pool.
(Laurentius of Terminus)

[17:48] Laurentius of Terminus thinks, "My Lord. I have found someone willing to trade mana for power... as well as having done a bit more collection."
[17:49] Laurentius of Terminus thinks, "I am slightly injured, but will recover."
[17:49] Laurentius of Terminus ponders, "Should I send for him, before we continue work?"
[17:52] Etheric Presence's voice (to Laurentius of Terminus): Send for them... Their mana shall serve to be the proper catalyst towards my ascension.
[17:53] Etheric Presence's voice (to Laurentius of Terminus): Your malady, shall be properly undone -- In time.
[17:54] Laurentius of Terminus thinks, "As you command. I will wait in the inner sanctum while I recover."
[19:13] Time rolled on by...
Perhaps, the hours felt like minutes -- With considerations as to how he would manage to bridge the connection between himself and this new arrival. However, word came by guard passing through, that no evidence of seacraft were spotted for miles along the horizon.

Whomever was contacted, was not coming today... Or, at the very least, was not of magus descent -- Perhaps, that would explain why travel was taking so long.
A member of the clergy would be sent for Laurentius to retrieve him as they took toward their recovery. As swift as it would've proven on its own, the Patron simply could not allow such discrepancy to exist uncontested for any period of time -- while it still lied within their range of influence.

The voice of the Patron bounced off of the minds of the clergy present, finally echoing within that of Laurentius themselves.
"The malady you suffer...
I must not be permitted quarter.

Come forth..."
Faceless radiance sought to resonate through their armor, for the flesh -- or lackthereof beneath... To find the injury incurred upon his champion through remote etheric examination. As strange as it was, the ways of Meranthe stopped proving a matter that surprised him nowadays -- They simply found newer means of demonstrating their naturally chaotic nature. Overtime, the enigmatic and strange, became the new norm -- as demented as they often always were...

Nay... This was something else.
There was a pattern to the damage here, akin to... A bite?

"A beast..."
It surely was unlikely to be a man -- though, not entirely out of the question. Mortals had a tendency to attempt claiming a hopeless stature through unrealistic means -- but a magical beast? It was within their nature to feast on mana and flesh,whether living or rotten.

"Its defiant transgression upon my creation, against the progression of the Vision -- is not one that shall go unpunished... But its meddling does not come without opportunity invoked in its place."
The time allotted for the materials previously dumped into the pool, enabled Terminus to do exactly as he sought out to.

Human skin was something he was versed on within the medical domain, though given recent advancements in his efforts? It had grown obvious that a gap in his knowledgebase was discovered. Having samples descending further into his pool allowed for him to properly ascertain what those gaps were...

It was not quite laced with a vascular system, but it was capable of being mana-rich, capable of absorbing and projecting mana through its pores, even capable of being amplified and mildly transmogrified, yet the study of it seemed to prove...
Lacking.

Buds of his own flesh latched upon it, nibbling upon it, and breaking down the cellular material within the blackened abyss they all floated within.

"When I had originally sought to improve your stature, I used only a blueprint of my own makeup... Muscular memory and all -- it was inherently flawed, as I had forgotten the finer details...

But here... And now? Thanks to you... I have those details. All I need to do... Is homogenize it."
A patchwork of skin samples from various individuals would only prove to be quite the matter of concern from anyone whom passed a glance at the afflicted individual after all. Thus, as floating buds of flesh within the pool started to latch themselves upon the examined skin samples, slowly eating away at their material? Esoteric magics sought to break down the formulating flesh buds, with inherited memory of the makeup of the skin prior.

It was akin to remote regeneration: A mastered feat of the Occult, practiced over a century now. It was no different than knitting a blanket as one unwound balls of yarn with their needles: From Fleshcrafting, to Skinweaving... Within this vantablack domain, the exact visual properties of this unseen blanket of disembodied skin proved unknown. It lacked the stature of leather at the very least, courtesy of the mana-rich substance it was preserved within.

It was a slow process, but a process that would see its work paid in dividends as more bio-material or entropic energy was brought into the shrine pool.
"Step into the depths of my pool... So that I may properly feed into the gap invoked upon you. No longer festering it, but building the base of a solid foundation."
In the past, small patches of skin were formed upon Laurentius' unsheathed body, but they were experimental in nature, far from uniform.
(Etheric Presence)

[19:27] The skin he had painstakingly collected... flensed from a face, stripped from a faeborn's back, a chunk taken from a young lady's arm- all of it dissolving away, as the patron studies and learns of it. By pure chance, it mostly came from women, save for the face- all the victims being somewhat young.

Skin... the flesh that made him up was modeled after the patron's own, and so, it was not entirely 'human' shaped- raw muscle and cancerous growth constantly shifting about, oozing and weeping sores forming, a lack of any skin at all-

It was a pain to constantly keep hidden away, especially when he was injured. Yet now, that would change- and perhaps, wrapped in such a casing, he would be strengthened... He rises, and steps forward- heedless of the pain of the already-regenerating bite wound on his back, as without hesitation, he once again sinks into the pool...

... slowly drifting down, down, into the depths once more, to eventually alight upon the bottom- unless held suspended.

Drifting... the lifestream's hate temporarily abated, as he is hidden from it, here. His senses go numb, as his Lord continues his grand work.

He had done well.

Gathered what was needed, ever on.

Grown.

Now it was time to see some of the fruits of that effort come to light.
(Laurentius of Terminus)

[19:42] This time? It was created prior, with the sole purpose of being magically grafted onto him. If not, to sheath one from the anguish of the world abroad with a thin layer of protection? Then, to allow the basis for a new mask to take hold -- An armor against the societal scrutiny that would be invoked, should his helm ever be prematurely removed.

Had Laurentius stepped into the pool as directed, they would have felt the brief singe of the occult, replaced by the ebbing and shifting of cancerous flesh. It was being hastened in its growth process, before being compressed upon and swaddled by faceless forces. It was as though each skin cell was plucked from the newly manifested product below the surface and planted upon one's exposed flesh where the previous bite wound had left purchase. Not only would their body be healed by the grace of the Patron, but it would be improved better than before.

This was not all that the Patron would apply their efforts upon. As obsessed as they had proven with perfection -- There was an ulterior motive. A product that lay within Laurentius... The Entropic Core -- Inactive in its current state, but very much humming deep within. It yearned for more entropic essence, enough to jumpstart it. The theoretics of what it could accomplish still left one to wonder... To imagine...
Though, to add to it, meant a need to build around it, to prevent the unintended resonance of its channeling. Otherwise, what efforts have been made until now? Were for naught...

"Let the Core that hums within your vessel channel my essence... Burn with the power of Null in defiance of all that perpetuate a cycle that begets their very suffering, all while contradictorily striving to preserve it."

As the very essence that sought an absolute stagnation to the lifestream poured into Laurentius -- they could feel it...
The pain of their wound, flittered away.
The anguish of existence waned, for these moments within the dark...
The hefty pump of an amplified heart, forcing blood through corroded arteries, no longer engorged the sensation of sludge through one's vascularity.

Perhaps, in these moments, they could forget the rusty nails still embedded within the flesh. Perhaps, those skewering wounds of plasma having permanently marred them, lacked their usual sting. Perhaps, the residual etheric mana that sought to eat away at their circuitry lacked the ache upon an unregenerated spot within their anatomy. Even the tyrium trapped within their flesh, their hunger, their spite... Relieved for even a moment.

Bliss.

Perhaps, this was the work of a psionic, offering a mercy...
Perhaps, this was the improvement of one's craft in esoteric magic casting...
Perhaps, this was a matter of Laurentius' doing, all on their own...

The moment would hang, for as long as this negative energy surged into the core, until it bucked back -- incapable of surging further without overswelling, invoking a pang of pain to kill the sensation abruptly.
The Patron's efforts ceased at last, with all of the feelings of the world returning to his champion. All that would remain vanquished, would be the pangs of pain likely invoked by the previously bitten-off chunk of flesh.

"Such peace... Is something all could know. One, where War and Death simply cease to be... You will be my instrument in ensuring such.

Eternal...
Gatekept by the very people that would see you destroyed.
By the very Pantheons that force your nature to invoke constant suffering...
Enforced by the lifestream, that limits you... Permits your every folly...

Let them all pay for it... Until the debt is covered in full...
Until The End of the Cycle is invoked, at last."

Beneath the armor, the flesh was now rejuvenated with a sheath of skin... Perhaps, extra concentration upon it would reveal traces of lingering pain, but it would only be newly created nerves within the site -- A strange, albeit intentional applied design. If only to ensure the skin was properly preserved until the effort could be completed.

"Rise."
The Entropic Core was charged, but it could not be pushed further... It would seem they had to go about the effort carefully... Slowly...
Otherwise, they would risk overloading it, destroying not only it, but Laurentius as well.
(Etheric Presence)

[19:43] Etheric Presence applies first aid treatment to Laurentius of Terminus.
[19:43] Etheric Presence applies first aid treatment to Laurentius of Terminus.
[19:43] Etheric Presence applies first aid treatment to Laurentius of Terminus.
[19:43] Etheric Presence applies first aid treatment to Laurentius of Terminus.
[20:17] The idea of a pre-mature removal of his helm, or discovery- a constant threat.

Even if he spent more time with it removed, hunting, than he did with it on, speaking... it was still a disguise that had to be upheld. He knew some were suspicious of him... eating in front of them only did so much. A surge of that sympathetic energy, slowly pressing within him as the flesh- shifts. Changes.

A slow, steady accumulation of new flesh, of skin atop his form, a barrier between it and the world that would no longer be subject to constant chafing and scraping, no longer need bandages changed daily to avoid the constant weeping...

Though he'd need to manually soil the bandages he wore whilst unmasked and hunting, it would not be too much effort to do so... skin... Would it be flawless, or pristine? Or would it be visibly sickly, rotting as the rest of him always was? Perhaps he would merely appear to be ill at all times.

Enough tofool people- and enough to reinforce his form, once again. A casing. A barrier.

Yet now, the core- that which burned within his stomach, that ball of metallic-carbon infused with a tormented soul... that which filled a large portion of his gut, still inactive, still- charging. It absorbs the energy, the power of his Lord slowly filling it within- yet not enough to jumpstart it in full. Not yet... it would take time, still. A delicate process.

But- that infusion, that power, that defiance of the stream- a foreign emotion sets in, as the soldier closes his eyes, feels the last bit of tension within his form bleed out.

Bliss.

The sensation of constant agony in all it's forms lifted, when it was all that you knew. The relief could move a man to tears, at least- those of a normal mentality. The last bit of air leaves lungs that do not need it, a slump, to float idle in the depths. Nothing could harm him, as the energy hung-

Before it burns back, the world striking down upon him once more in a fury, the agony of it all returned, as things go back to normal.

For but a moment- he was- free of the agony... and then, it returned...

To know better, then to go back-

That was the world to which he was pushing forwards? An existence as such? That is what his patron desired him to have...

He was already a fanatic, fatalistic in his pursuit- but... now... he perhaps understood. An end. It must come, by any means.

Now, he rises again, the skin slowly growing and generating, the steady process of growth... a sheath of flesh beneath it all... a precursor, to the work to be done. As he claws his way from the pit, back onto the shore- he turns, regarding it once more.

He looks at his hands, then up at the pool- flexing and testing newfound digits cloaked in fragile casing... foreign, but- improved, all the same...

"Thank you, my Lord...

May we begin work upon the enhancement? The armor, the heart, and... I have gathered something more, as well." He was always busy. Always.
(Laurentius of Terminus)

[20:29] Etheric Presence has taken Arcanium (x1) from the chest at 410,516,8
[20:45] Some skin was applied, but much more was to be created with time...
The Core was partially charged, but much time needed to pass before it could be worked again...

Alas, a request concerning an enchantment.
Silence was afforded to take into consideration for the intent --
The Armor.
The Heart.
Then, something more?

The mental image of what was-to-be was still fresh in the Patron's mind... What else could they have missed?

"Speak what you wish, and offer forth what you have gathered. I shall invoke whatever enchantment you find need of."

The enhancement of one's heart seemed rather straight forward... To sheath it in scales, infuse it with mana and interlace it with magus circuitry to provide it a slight amplification against the petrifying curse of gorgons. Then, the matter of the armor -- though, it seemed rather fuzzy on some of the details.

The furred pelt would prove an invaluable natural armor, though what of the other organic material? It seemed as though it'd prove rather inefficient in both protecting and spreading the previously mentioned plague. Thus, clarification was required...

"You spoke of the desire to avoid using the gorgon scales upon your armorworks. Thus, I wish to understand the vision you have in store...

Of your biological agent...
Of your armor..."
It was presumed the Patron already knew of what the enhancement of one's heart would partake of -- though, Laurentius was free to speak on whatever he deemed appropriate.
(Etheric Presence)

[21:13] Time. All time... metastasis was a process that had to occur, even if the need for more resources was a constant thing. Growth must continue, ever on- not waiting for one project at a time, but several. The core would be efficient, but he needed to progress, constantly- for everyone else was doing so as well.

For that promised end, he must be strong.

The soldier reaches into a pouch- and draws forth a greasy lump of something hard and shiny- a dark, crimson hue to it's surface. Rigid... like... Amber, if it were made of some thick form of blood. It seems to drink in mana from all around... and... that plague, lingers in it's presence.

"Taken from a dwarf who wielded absorption, I condensed his blood to this stone, of sorts- then, another wielder, already ill, fought me, and I added the mana of his own to this. Reinforcement."

At that, he gestures to the pool. "I don't think it is ready yet. Fusion with my hand, may be preferable to a ring, in time. Still. For now, the hide, the sinew, the bone, the cursed blood, each has soaked within the pool.

I would take them, along with a piece of entropic alloy- and begin my work into the armor."

As clarity is requested, the soldier nods firmly, detailing.

"For the armor:

I will condense the cursed blood with Auguria, creating a crimson metal that will form most of the plating. The entropic alloy will be worked into accents on the chestplate, distributed. The hide will be tanned with blue mercury for strength, and placed about the neck, shoulders, the back. The tendons will be processed into thread, and the bone, to a needle- used to sew it all together.

For the agent:

A refinement. Enhance it's strength, allow it to overcome and change a host- to strengthen them, against their fellow man, but feeding us in the process... potentially even making it fully contagious."

The heart was, indeed, the realm of his Lord. Yet Artifice, that was his own domain- and the plague had evolved, steadily. The patron would see it, in the difference between the old infected flesh, and the new. It had grown stronger, more potent, more infectious and enduring.
(Laurentius of Terminus)

[22:10] A clergyman seemingly arose from their meditation without a spoken word, before taking to their departure. There was a quiet amongst the other clergy members, as though expecting it solely to be guidance from their Patron unto their fellow kin. In fact, it had been... For they would return, with a precious lump of stone within their clutches.

It was reflective upon its surface...
Pure...
In some aspects, some would even claim holy -- The first and perfected metal: Arcanium, presented before the abyssal pool... Before being unceremoniously dropped into it, with an aquatic plop. Without so much as a word to explain themselves, they fell back to meditation, heeding the silent command of their Patron before turning back to prayer.

The surface of the pool bubbled, but it was not the tributed Arcanium -- rather, it was the material presented prior. All of which, preserved...

The hide floated up to the surface, easily capable of being plucked to one's possession. The ebonic substance spilled from it, lacking the adhesive quality necessary to bead upon it and apply any semblance of permanence. The loose sinew and bone would revealed shortly afterward. The exception, was the cursed blood -- which had been contained in finger-like containers forged of flesh- and sealed with a bony-cap: A flesh-vial.

The properties of the material were attuned to the Patron at the very least, for on a minute level, the alchemical brew that preserved it had offered enough time for miniature buds of flesh to interact, nibble upon, and even meld with the material. Sinew was built upon with slightly exaggerated mass, as was the bone to a more limited degree.

What didn't come as swiftly, was the arcanium, still lying within the depths... Caught within one's telekinetic clutches. This was never as easy as it was made out to be... For the bleeding of arcanium required one to try inducing entropy upon what was perfected. A stillness was to be enforced upon what Kraus deemed unsullied -- though, perhaps that was what made it most valuable.

Through the ether, his radiance exuded...
For the lifestream beyond -- In a way? It was akin to meditation, for such was all he had time for, as a husk at the bottom of a lightless pit. Was it anything like attempting to peer into the Astral Sea, as he did that one time? The endless supply of essence just outside of reach? Nay -- it was beyond even that. It was an energy that acted akin to a extramagus vascular system. One such system that sustained something greater...

Not merely a physical body, but the domains unseen...
He could feel it...
An entity... A soul
Wriggling... Writhing to be free within the passage of the lifestream. Though, Terminus would not let it be so.

As far as he was concerned, it had drew his extended perception... His exaggerated sights upon the extraplanar scape beyond the realm at-large.
"Sinner."

"For the suffering you have induced solely at the behest of one's own vices and directionless cause... You deserve no liberty. Away from the very Marqui you would serve in Death. To me, until the end..."
An otherworldly scream filled the room, howling as gales of the supernatural blasted abroad. A subtle sheen of green captured the image of a man clutching at their face, toiling their arms about as they were subjected to spaghettification. A winding motion of the winds abroad the room drew a cylindrical stream of their make-up for the surface of the spit.

Upon contact, the opaque black turned for a ghastly emerald, with a brief visual that permitted a glance beyond the typical solid surface. Though, in the very instant it came? It left... Coming with the abrupt silence of a haunted spirit and vanishing of its image.

Arcanium had been bled, and a soul was snatched away from the lifestream's natural passage to the afterlife.

To the surface -- Once pure and reflective -- diamond-like, appeared as opaque as the substance it emerged from, crackled with bloodline leylines that occasionally revealed the muffled scream of the captured soul. To be imprisoned for all of eternity...

"You are my agent, tasked with harnessing entropic essence: A noble cause...

Those abroad, are riddled with many that would conduct such unsavory endeavors for the satisfaction of their own Sin.

They are what earn your Hatred... What justifies the suffering of all that permit them. Every soul that would enable their perpetuation, whether by alignment or exception, shall be subjected to your hunts.

Their suffering is temporary...
But the peace that shall ensue after all is done?
Eternal.

See to it, that the sinners punished by my hand, in their afterlife... Serve you in your mission."
(Etheric Presence)

[22:13] {Item} You drop Arcanium x1.
[22:29] With the Nyctorre conjured, it was now a matter of focusing one's energy and creativity towards this bio-agent.

To invade a body was hardly difficult, but to ensure it was contagious? That requires autonomy beyond one's self... A brain?
Nay -- A central hub for such a matter would leave a medically inclined individual, or rather astute magi, the capacity to simply blast at the site of infection. It had to be something less traditional... Decentralized.
Every individual aspect of the bio-agent had to be completely independent from the other...

Thus, it was not a matter of creating a thing that could spread across the body as a single instrument? No... They were thinking far too big. Instead, one had to think...
Small

An agent had to be a series of living things...
They had to be... Terminus' spawn. Though they would not be large enough to speak, or otherwise interact with on any remotely sentient level. Rather than feed on the flesh of those they had vanquished? They would feed on the flesh of the living without them truly growing aware to their presence! They would feed on the mana directly from their circuitry while their body actively sought to destroy them quietly behind the scenes.

They would need to adapt to the body, though, of those they invaded -- and then, learn that body from the last one they inhabited. However, how would they accomplish this individually? The truth of the matter was, they simply could not...
Every human body had differences, which was why such an effort would inevitably fail. So, these spawn needed to not only be able to act independently... They needed to be able to live... Even reproduce independently. It provided the risk of it turning on them, but with Terminus as their originator, and the Occult being their bind? Perhaps, it would require a weak degree of Occultic influence to ensure that it remained in check -- when applying the mastery of control over one's anatomy.

A race of magical beasts, so small that the mortal eye simply could not pick them apart from one another. A spawn of Terminus that would be small enough to squirm through the pores of one's skin over time, if not washed off. One such series of creatures that could feed on flesh and mana over time, reproduce, and force the magus anatomy's immune system to work into overdrive to fend it off, ultimately weakening the magi afflicted with it. However, this would prove devastating to the non-magus populations afflicted by it. Presuming it was used to target them...

Unless, it could be further tailored...
After all, a nonmagi's mana circuitry lacked the proper amounts of mana to prove nutritious enough for such a series of entities. Could it have been theorized that such an underwhelming supply would naturally lead to reduced quantities of the microscopic magic beasts? Could a nonmagus' anatomy, then, theoretically outbeat a magus-borne disease? Or was it simply a death sentence for them?

So many variables... At least, such could be examined by Laurentius with his every deployment into the field.
"I understand how I shall have it... For the common diseases that exist within humanity do not exist within magus biology. They are immune.

The maladies you induce are akin to the very maladies other magi induce. They are restricted to magical spells and their impact upon those afflicted. As unique and powerful as they may prove, with enough potent magic, or strategic application, they can be undone.

However, if my theory proves correct -- A proper plague would prove otherwise. Not merely a byproduct of malignant mana within one's anatomy, otherwise, it lacked the contagious impact you desire. It also lacks the additional effect of generating the entropic essence required to push towards the Vision.

Thus, I shall create Life...
Not one as grandiose as the giants that roam the land, nor the titanic magus forces that storm battlefields... Rather, the insignificant creatures from beyond one's eye. One that compares to even the individual partitions of skin, its pores that would excrete sweat -- and accept topical substance, so that it may invade it unlike the more destructive fashion of a blade.

Silent but effective.

Then, from there, they may feed... Evolve... Grow...
Gremlins that eyes can not -see-...
Akin to the very worms that Tal'guth would produce, per the claims of those before you.

Their actions shall produce miniature resonations of entropy alone, but together, it will prove abundant. Slowly, they will escape the body upon maturity, the dismay it shall impart upon the vessel they escape will boast as symptoms as far as the afflicted is concerned. Over time, whether by air, earth, or sea -- They will return to you...

For you shall be their harbinger, until they are merged with me once more."
(Etheric Presence)

[22:29] With the theory fully fleshed out, it hardly seemed as vague anymore. Not to mention, he now knew that he needed a remote host -- That host would be Laurentius. However, there needed to be a way to ensure that it was not accidentally spread... Or worse -- that it would somehow backfire upon Laurentius upon being conjured. They would be of Terminus' flesh upon spawning... But what would keep them from turning on anything or anyone else affiliated to them?

A separate 'Command and Control', for lack of better words had to be created... Something that they came from, but could be actively controlled.
The Heart.
The armor, as effective as it would've been -- could theoretically be destroyed or lost... But the heart? It would be concealed within one's body at all times. Besides, it would act as a final line of deterrence from any of those who would wish to extract from Laurentius should they prove to be dispatched in the future.

"Your heart shall be augmented... And prove to be the initial breeding ground for my spawn. They shall feed on mana, whether ambient or actively bestowed unto them, and lie in dormancy upon your body and flesh. Your magic shall awaken them, induce their natural behavior so that they may infect those as you intend to."
There lied other risks, such as accidental infections... However, lacking blood magic left one to consider the risks well within Laurentius' control.

After all, what could go wrong? They were too far along to be stopped now -- at least, that was what Terminus had brought themselves to believe. So long as they didn't misstep too soon.
(Etheric Presence)

[22:45] A soul, torn from the cycle, wailing and flailing in agony as it is drawn into it's prison- that ghastly sheen reflecting in the polished metal of his helmet. A man known to many for his sympathy and good nature, watches on with complete impassiveness. Uncaring.

This was it's place.

Whether the soul truly was a sinner- or merely the first unlucky enough to be seen... it does not matter. He serves a greater purpose now, a grander ambition than whatever the stream would have sent it towards.

The soldier- the Champion, beckons, and the blood within each answers. The hide, the vials, the sinew, the bone- the ore itself, now seeping with red and fluxing with pain... each is lifted, drawn to him. Each taken, sodden and altered, latched on to by those buds of flesh, soaked and prepared for further working.

The many vials and the bone fragment are tucked away, one by one. The hide, rolled up around the Nyctorre, bound in that sinew, and kept floating away from him to not stain his cloak as it drips slowly. Set off to the side.

Then came the modification to the pestilence- the plague that had been so evolved, from so, so many victims and battles, so much strike. Seventy, that was the number of battles- how many invoked the infection remained difficult to determine, unclear.

A dozen? Twenty? More?

He lost count. When every injury you inflict spreads some form of illness... it's hard to say. The infection, bolstered by the power of undeath, could set in permanently if the wound was severe enough- Garret Lightgloom had found that out firsthand, when his face was sheared away...

Yet it was not merely an intent to kill. It was transformative, now, with this work made. Insignificant, tiny, small- and something that would spread, beyond the view of many until it was too late. To resonate, bit by bit, in every host- a gathering from abroad, of strength, to travel in however myriad of unseen ways they might.

He would spread his plague across the world, and in doing so, gather more and more the power that was needed to realize His dream. The End. His heart would be the epicenter for this disease, a place as armored as the rest, concealed within his form, and buried deep within. Protected, and yet a site from which circulation occurs throughout the body. Perfect. After all, he was a masterful blood mage...

And he needed a heart, a vessel to feed his newfound skin. A vital organ, a step closer to perfection. The perfect mass of flesh had been cultivated for it, in dozens of battles across Meranthe. Stolen from other magi, the infection that had been nutured came along with it a great sum of entropy- and that was sufficient for his Lord's steady recovery.

It was seen in every dot of flesh that marked the top of that pool, every one that clung to the spoils he had taken, and now- Perhaps, enough energy, to form his heart of something... more. Something resilient. For though he was of Terminus's flesh, the new, entropically infused creations... these would endure, and grow, in spite of the world itself bending against them.

He awaits, for the next instruction from his maker, in absolute trust and certainty.

"As ever, until the end- and for eternity beyond.

Thy will be done, my Lord."
(Laurentius of Terminus)

[23:10] The constant dips into the pool fashioned Terminus with enough introductory encounters with the plague that they had grown quite familiar with its application. The samples that could be gathered from the residue upon the materials provided, to the very sickly embrace he knew he had the capacity to wager upon the fruitful lands of Antefinem and the world at-large. Even the necromancers of olde such as Mininya and Orfeas demonstrated the capacity to conduct such.

Thus, the natural evolution of the Rust Plague seemed apt. One that could be examined by the presence of rot applied to iron and steel, not unlike one's application of Null upon Arcanium. However, if one wanted to ensure that further evolution was seamless? Enough so, that one could carry out all they wished to -- It would take further study and practice, likely over time and solitude.

"I will need time to fester over your... Agent. You are dismissed for the timebeing... I will send a member of my clergy for you, once I have something ready."
(Etheric Presence)

[23:24] Laurentius bows his head, hefting up the rolled hide as he prepares to exit and perform his own brand of work... artifice. The creation of armor. It was very much needed, his nightreaper kit unusable outside of the bounds of his mask of seeming...

... of course, that armor would also be unusable WITHIN that boundary, unless things were truly so dire that he had no choice but to fully shed the veil. In his eyes, inevitable, but hopefully not for a very, very long time... not until they were well and truly ready.

Time would be required, for the patron to work. And time, of course, would be granted. He has stated that his will be done, and so, without further word- Laurentius departs, until sent for once again.

Progress being made, strength ever growing.
(Laurentius of Terminus)