Illaron's Pact [6/26] Talky Dev

[08:55] Deep within the city of Dawn, the Archon was at work.

Not far from the watch tower that watched over the city center, the Archon of Creation was setting up shop, so to speak. A small building, big enough to house him, and a small stall attached to the side of it. Standing at it is some poor occultist, no doubt acting as a shopkeeper. Hung up at the shop were various scrolls, each one essentially humming with energies due to the powerful runes engraved upon them. The Archon himself was not far away, as anyone approaching could see him, sitting upon a large wooden chair, no doubt working on a project. What that protect was, exactly, was unknown.

This process continues for a time, but soon the Archon finishes up, and stands up from his wooden stump and takes a quick look around. His eyes narrow as his gaze shifts from building to building, as if expecting something to appear. Or perhaps, someone. With Sinael elsewhere in the city, it was suspiciously quiet. Far too quiet.
(Illaron)
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[08:56] Dawn was a vast city. The little peasant town she sprouted from simply couldn't compare. Over a few short years she's acclimated to the dizzying amount of buildings and mansions, but there are still nooks and crevices of the sprawling metropolis she hasn't explored. So long as she was not in the square, where the Lich King's grisly ritual took place, it was better. Even still she was plagued by those maddening whispers. They never quite left her, not since she'd trekked through the dreadful purple woods in the land of the savages.

Somehow, in this part of the city, those whispers seem louder and clearer. Half of her fears what they mean, what they bring, but the other half is curious. She follows a trail that wends its way to the little building with its stall and its servant.

Ardith is unassuming in appearance, apart from the constant, searching shift of her eyes. Only the staff at her back marks her as something beyond a peasant- a magi on a mission, in search of answers if they can at all be found.
(Ardith)
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[08:57] It doesn’t take long for the Demon to spot the youths approach. Blood red eyes shift to stare at her general direction, no doubt sending a chill through the air as the winds began to shift. It would be clear to the likes of Ardith that something terrible hung in the air, and it was something much different than the undead that roamed the streets.

A voice soon worms its way into Ardith’s mind, and each word spoken is painfully relayed. It is a painful experience, as demonic telepathy was never designed to be pleasant for humans.

“You’ve come a long way to get lost, child.” The voice states, echoing within her mind. It was like a voice whispering in her ear, yet as clear as day. And each word would send a shiver down any normal persons spine.

This would be her last chance to turn back, and run from whatever horrors awaited ahead.
(Illaron)
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[08:59] An ill wind blows, causing Ardith to huddle and shiver. There's a small attempt to fend it off with a little flurry of wind magic, but it does nothing for the chill; it passes right through her and makes her spine try to crawl out of her skin. The undead have a feel all their own that she's grown accustomed to after these short years. It's the difference in feeling that led her to this place. It's less like Dawn and more like the purple woods the tribes-people lived near. Far different from the Oscuri and the ilk of necromancers.

The voices plague her still, yet this one is different. It cuts through the hushed chatter that harries her and, clear as the peal of a bell, speaks with unmistakable clarity. There is no denying there's actual words in it and ones that hurt no less. Clapping her hands over her ears does nothing to make it any better. Even the ones that have been following her since the forest have been able to go right around her ears and into her head with their gibbering.

"I-I'm...I'm not lost," she stammers, hazarding a few more steps forward. Her curiosity outweighs the fear that makes her flesh crawl. The chance to turn back is discarded.

(Ardith)
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[08:59] An eerie chuckle could be heard in her head. It echoed all around the area, carried upon the wind itself.

“Is that so? Strange. Most Outlanders run by now, so stricken with fear that they cannot see the truth. You claim you’re not lost, yet you stand there, stammering in fear. And yet, you’ve made it further than most. They usually run in fear at the first sound they hear, but you stand there. Afraid, but curious.”

Suddenly the winds begin to churn, and in the distance, a dark silhouette can be seen. It is tall, unnaturally so, and the outline of two large horns can be seen protruding from its head. If the child had any magical talent, they would be able to sense the overwhelming aura of occult magic emanating from it. This would be the last chance the child had to run, as footsteps can be heard approaching.
(Illaron)
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[09:02] The man- no, surely he can't be a man with an outline in the darkness like that- has her pegged. Afraid, but curious. That desire to preserve herself urges her to flee, to run. The desire to know more outweighs it by enough of a margin to keep her squarely rooted in this distant part of Dawn. Even now as his laughter enters her mind and his presence draws closer she cannot bring herself to move. An aura of occult swathes the horned shadow, far greater than the gusts of wind and darkness she can conjure on her own, far deeper.

Truth, it said. Truth and knowledge are what she's here for. If she runs now she may as well go back to the mainland, back to the life of a peasant, and live out the rest of her days in a mindless drudge. Avoiding that outcome is what she'd come to the continent for in the first place.

"Th-th..." Ardith starts stammering. She forces steel into her voice, speaking slowly. "This place. You. It feels like the purple forest. Where I heard the voices. Voices in my head. Not in my ears. They didn't make words like you did. I came here...I wanted to know more. No one else knows. I tried."

(Ardith)
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[09:03] The child surely guesses correctly. The being standing in the distance was certainly no human. While it may bear features of a human, it was anything but. It was at that point that the features of the creature could be clearly seen, as the darkness that covered the area began to fade. This was no normal person.

This was a demon. And an extremely powerful one at that.

Large black horns protrude from the creatures head, and bright red eyes seem to peer at her. It’s legs are covered in brown fur and cloven feet. It was clad in a black and silver robe, with a shimmering plate of Arcanium underneath.

“You ventured through the dark forests?” The voice questioned, its head tilting slightly. “Impressive. Many simply avoid that area entirely, or get torn apart by those whom inhabit it. Many run in fear, yet you made it through. How curious. Do you not fear me, child? Do you not fear the occult that permeates the air?”
(Illaron)
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[09:06] She'd been right. She wishes a little she hadn't been. The horns, the hooves, the scarlet eyes all give him away for what he is; a nightmare she's only heard tell of in fairy tales, which became all the more real when she set foot on this continent. It approaches with smooth strides, richly adorned- that's the part she hadn't expected of a demon. Ardith had expected more teeth, more savagery.

In answer to his first question she nods swiftly, careful not to look him in the eye for too long. Incidentally, her answer to the second question is the same. Ardith is unmistakably terrified.

"I want...I want to hear what they're saying. I can hear the voices. Not the words, not like..."

Not like the demon Lord, with his voice with painful, crystal clarity. Hushed and distant murmurs.

"They don't hurt me...but sometimes...sometimes they're loud."

(Ardith)
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[09:08] Ardith’s expectations were half right. Many of the demons of Agartha were nothing more than savage beasts. Intelligent, sure. But they cared little about appearances. But an Archon was something else entirely. However, despite Illarons rather regal clothing, there was no denying that the savage inhumanity one came to expect from a demon was hardly kept in check.

“You seek to hear the voices of the demons? You already do, child. What you hear are nothing more than the screams of those cursed. The desperate pleas of a consciousness that has yet to fully form. They speak no words, they only cry.” An unfortunate truth for many of Agarthas inhabitants, reduced to nothing more than mindless daemons.

“Or perhaps you mean something else entirely. The fact you seek to hear them is... Interesting. Very few ever care about them, let alone wanting to listen. You are an odd one.”
(Illaron)
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[09:09] 'Screaming' wasn't inaccurate. It fit the bill of what she'd heard in the Dreadwoods at least. That part makes sense at the very least.

"I don't know what they are. I heard them in the purple forest...then they followed me. I...I thought they followed me. No one else hears it. I asked all my friends. No one hears them," she says with a soft whimper, cupping her hands over her ears. "I thought I heard them trying to- to say something. If I listened close. But they're...they're not saying anything?"

So far her search has turned up little to no answers. The knight that oversaw her had only suggested 'ghosts' and 'occult' (or occult ghosts, which sounded doubly concerning). And indeed the presence of occult clings to her. For one that knows so little about magic at all it's fairly potent, and the budding novice is out of her depth with how to cope with it. 'Odd one' isn't far off the mark either.

(Ardith)
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[09:15] "What you heard was merely the cries of a lost race."

The archons voice continues to echo throughout the area. The voices she so desperately wanted to hear seemed to reverberate in her mind. A cacophony of voices that soon merged into one single voice, one deep in tone and laced with corrupting influences.

"My kin, reduced to nothing more than rambling pets." His voice contains traces of anger, like the sheer fact that his kin, even devolved and mindless, are being shoved into cubes is an annoyance.

"The curse of the spires turned them into this. We are a dying race, more and more of my spawn result in nothing more than mindless dredges. I put them out of their misery before long."

However, as he speaks, the Archons gaze seems focused on Ardith. There is something lingering around her, a mana that the Demon knew all about. It was intriguing, for such a person to stand before him. Not filled with fear, butcuriosity. It nearly reminded him of-..

"Do you wield the occult, child?" He suddenly asks, diverting the topic altogether. "It clings to you, unlike others I have seen."
(Illaron)
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[09:27] The cries of a lost race.

A symphony of echoes hits her mind, coalescing into one finite voice, back into that of the Demon Lord. Her brain rattles in the face of it. As if it hadn't already been doing just that.

It only gets worse when more emotion enters the voice in her thoughts, even in the small trace of anger. She can feel a muted heat in her heart in response. Indignance.

The Spires she knows so little of. Knowledge has been hard to obtain among Dawn's soldiers, which only fits. They were meant to protect the city and its people, not scholarly pursuits. Not as far as she knows, anyway. She's only heard of spires in hushed whispers about opportunities on this strange continent.

Just as she can feel the Archon's voice, she can feel his focus unnervingly narrow on her. Ardith is still very much afraid, there's no denying that. It oozes off of her. Curiosity does overcome it still.

She answers with a nod, a quick and jerky one, where she avoids looking directly at the horned creature's face.
(Ardith)
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[09:31] There is an awkward silence for several moments as the Archon simply stares at her. It was as if he was staring into her, rather than just at her. He could see the occultic mana flow around her. A descendant of an occultist, perhaps? Or perhaps she tried to grasp true power, but had yet to fully understand it.

It was so similar to Somnus.

"Then that explains much. They speak to you because you wield the same magic as them. Your mana circuits are flooded with occultic mana. It flows through you like water through a channel. And yet... You lack control. You lack practice. But that-..."

An eerie smile stretches across the Archons face, revealing an array of sharp and jagged fangs.

"That can be remedied."

The Demon takes a few more steps towards Ardith, and his eyes continue to fixate upon her, even as she attempts to look away.

"What is your name, child. Speak, and perhaps I can find a use for you. Perhaps you can fully control the power you yet understand."
(Illaron)
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[09:39] In a relatively short and nerve-wracking conversation she's honestly learned much. The nature of the little creatures that roam the island, what caused their deformation, a few trace facts about these Spires. There are gaps between the facts, more questions that need answers, but it's more than she had before.

Ardith doesn't look at his face, but she sees enough of it to note a flash of teeth. After hearing all the tales of things, and people, on this island that are ready and willing to eat human flesh? It's understandable that she flinches.

He continues to speak and captivate her curiosity. The Archon walks a fine line between terrifying her out of her skull and maintaining intrigue. The Lord sees something others do not. It means he has answers. A remedy.

Back and forth her beady eyes dart, never meeting his eyes but never looking away for too long.

"A-Ardith...I'm...Ardith, sir..."

She's not even sure 'sir' is the right title here. What do you call something like this?
(Ardith)
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[09:46] "Ardith, huh.."

Unlike Ardith's intent to avoid eye contact, the Archon simply stares. Unmoving, uncaring. The creature was so far removed from humanity and such mannerisms that it was no doubt many avoided him. His mere presence was enough to deter many, after all.

"I am Illaron, the Archon of Creation. One of the last Archons on this continent." With Tragedy returning to the worldscape, and Eiphraem likely slumbering deep within the oceans of what was once Crafthold, his statement was very much accurate.

"Call me what you will, I care little." He retorts.

"What if I told you I could give you a remedy to your issues? That I could show you true power. That IS what you want, is it not? To control the whispers you constantly hear. To wield the magic that clings to you."

The smile doesn't fade. He had gone through this several times. A potential apprentice stood before him. Another to add to the growing list of those he 'elevated' above mere humanity.

All that was left was for her to prove herself.
(Illaron)
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[09:56] There's been a lot of words and terms she's not familiar with in a short span of time. Archon is added to the list. If the title hadn't been offered by someone that made her feel so utterly small and intimidated by nature, she might have written it off as more bluster of nobility.

The Lord is still an enigma, even after giving his name and title. A great and powerful creature that wears the skin of a man and a beast at the same time. A being who carries the regality and power of a title like a nobleman, but feels more like a destructive force of nature barely contained in the seams of finery.

She hangs on his words, particularly those about the remedy, of power, of controlling the whispers she's been so desperately trying to understand. Hadn't she talked to Jun of power? How it was, essentially, the key to everything of import?

Ardith's excitement and intrigue surge, tipping the scales away from the potent fear in herbelly and urging her curiosity. Finally she looks up, into the Archon's eyes, and nods desperately.

In a few words he offers all she desires.

"Y-yes. Yes, that's what I want."
(Ardith)
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[10:25] Illaron raises his hand, and places his fingers on a single ring that rested on his finger. He gently turns the ring, almost absentmindedly. Even Ardith could feel the potent magic that seemed to flow from the ring. It was engraved with various runes, carved in an ancient language few on the continent could ever hope to understand.

It was like pure power condensed into a single ring.

"I could offer you so much, child. True power at your fingertips. That IS what you want, no?" He was stating the obvious, a truth he could see in Ardith's eager eyes. He had seen this before. It was all so similar.

The ring was removed from his finger, and soon it floats up into the air, suspended by powerful telekinetic energies wielded by the Archon. It floats, almost taunting Ardith with it's presence. It was so alluring, it almost called out to her, similar to how the voice of Demon's whispered to her.

It promised so much, but at what cost?

"Do you pledge yourself to me? Your eternal loyalty? Such a trivial thing for a taste of true power." An offer given to a child who knew little. Someone who could be molded into something more. Something that knew true power.

But would she accept...?
(Illaron)
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[10:35] She can't look away now. Try as she might, it's impossible. Ardith is enraptured by the Archon, his movements, the hoop of power that she can feel as much as see, as if a living, breathing band of metal affixed around the Lord's finger.

Her wide eyes follow the ring. Curiosity is joined by a sudden keen sense of desire and avarice. It bobs just out of reach. All she has to do is reach out to take it. Well, take it and offer a pledge.

Pledges. It's what everyone wants, but she can see what can be gained already, clear as day, from this one. It's unwise to consider lying to something that can speak to her mind though. Her gut tells her it is a terrible idea...

"If...If I work for Dawn? Is...is that okay?"

The Lord lives here in Dawn, but his allegiances, his desires. Are they the same?

Ardith's fingers twitch. She wants to reach out, to take it, the will of a novice crumbling and cracking under tectonic pressure. Another gut instinct tells her it's an awful idea.

Finally she reaches out, just far enough to try and brush her fingertips against the runed metal. She can't resist.
(Ardith)
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[10:42] "Work for Dawn?"

Ardiths mind is suddenly filled with laughter. It echoes in her mind, unable to be ignored. "No, my foolish little Outlander. I do not want you to work for Dawn. I want you to work for me. If you decide to join Dawn's little military, then I will not stop you, but ultimately your loyalty is to be with me."

It seems that even if the Archon resided within Dawn, he had no particular love for the city, but there seemed to be a lack of hate. It was if he didn't truly care about Dawn, not like the others in the city might.

"Contrary to belief, I am no slave driver. Your will is your own, but your loyalty is mine. The terms are extremely simple, don't you agree?"

As Ardith reaches out for the ring, Illaron's grin only grows wider. The pure occultism that radiated from the ring was temptation incarnate. It called to her, and the shining gem on the center of the ring seemed to shimmer with life.

And yet, despite being so close, the ring moves away just before her fingers manage to brush up against it.

"Do you accept? Or will you run? This is your chance to become something so much more..."
(Illaron)
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[10:52] The ringing laughter makes her stagger as she advances for the ring. It bounces around inside her skull, echoing painfully.

"I-I'm a squire. To house Vishkar," she explains. While she might serve them, the opportunity the Lord offers is so much greater.

The terms he gives are simple. And the power, the power that could be at her fingertips floats just out of reach. It's like she can still hear the echo of the Archon's laughter. Or maybe it's something else that time.

Her loyalty to the Lord, but her will her own? Surely she can still keep a promise in that regard. They'd given her a roof, but what's presented is more. In a deeper sense, it's the key to getting what she might ever desire.

The mansion she once wanted seems so small in this instant as she hearkens to the siren song of the occult ring. Pithy in the face of what she could have. This is all it takes.

Ardith came here with one initial purpose. She'd wanted to be more than a farm girl for the rest of her life, living day in and day out toiling in the fields. Now here it is, right in front of her, cast in the reflection of the gemstone.

"Y-yes. Yes. I-I accept."

The words are hers, they come from her mouth, but the force of temptation pulls them from her. There's no means to resist.
(Ardith)
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[11:01] "You've made the right decision, Ardith."

The Archons hand moves, and the ring begins to float towards her. It was so close, just within reach. How easy it would be for her to simply reach out and grab hold of it. To take hold of the power she so desperately sought.

To be something more than a simple farm girl was within her grasp.

The ring floats before her, calling out to her. It was almost as if it was whispering to her, tempting her with the great power it held. It was so close... So real.

All she had to do was put it on her finger.

"I accept your pledge, Ardith. And in return, I give you the power you so desperately seek. But know this is just the beginning. The true trial begins now. Can you handle the power? Or will you succumb to it, and become nothing but a mindless wretch?"

Only time would tell.

"If you are ready, all is left is to place the ring on your finger. And then, our deal will be sealed."
(Illaron)
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[11:02] {ITEM} Traded item with Illaron: Ring Of The Old Ones
[11:23] It's all so simple. Time slows in her mind's-eye. She has the power to change her fate, offered up in return for a pledge to the Lord Archon. Her fingertips finally brush against the cool metal. The thrum of energy is palpable.

Her fingers wrap around the floating ring, and once it's in her grasp the siren call is all the louder and sweeter. What reason is there not to wear it? She'd be a fool not to, might as well take the first boat back home and resign herself to a life in the fields as a nameless peasant.

No...No. Not anymore. Today it all changes. Ardith is never going to return to that yoke on the mainland and toil for nothing. The young squire looks up to the Lord Archon, looks him for the first time in his eyes (albeit briefly), then back down.

It all changes when the ring slides onto her finger.

At first glance it appears far too big for her, a piece meant for a creature twice her size and a thousand times more refined and elegant. When she dons it fits snugly, as if it were always made for Ardith. Like it had been waiting for her all this time.

She screams in pain before she gets a chance to admire its alluring beauty up close. The rainbow hues blur and tears fill her eyes. Ardith had been warned, but not directly. All the power the band pulses with floods her circuits, and the circuits are found wanting for the course of the mana's flow.

Their course is altered by brute force as the occult cascades up her arm, to her torso, gripping her heart like a vice and momentarily causing it to stop. Ardith howls and wails, the sensations overbearing. Pleasure and pain intertwine in an unimaginable and indescribable dance. She cries all until her lungs seize up too.

It's too much. More than she can bear all at once. Ardith began the process standing, took a knee before the Lord as she was blinded by agony and ecstasy, and now she lies on the ground in a heap.
(Ardith)
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[11:34] And just as quickly as it had begun, the ritual had finished.

Illaron watched in silence as the occultism begun to overwhelm her circuits. He was very well aware what was happening; the occultic mana was being drawn from his own reserves, after all.

As the screams subdue, Illaron remains standing before Ardith, the smile upon his face unfaltering. The process was complete. The pact was made. Ardith would have everything she desired, all the power her body could handle. And the Archon succeeded in corrupting yet another individual to his will.

Another mortal elevated to something much more, or so he so vehemently believed.

Despite her falling to her knees, Illaron takes a step closer, and gestures towards her.

"Rise, my child. Rise and embrace the power you've sought. Your body will change to match such power. You will become something so much more than just a human. You wield true power now. And soon, all will come to fear it."

Just like Somnus. Just like Ishmael. Just like Sinael.

"Once you collect yourself, I suggest you go and rest. The process will drain much from you, but soon you will feel your strength return, and so much more."
(Illaron)
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[11:44] Voices. So many swirling in her head. They'd drowned out her own screams and remain long after she stops. The tension unwinds from her lungs, from her heart, and though her muscles are weak she finds herself unable to stand.

While she can't see the gesture, she can hear the Lord- her Lord's- voice parting through the others, an even hand separating the ceaseless tide of their muttering. It still grates against her but now it's pleasing to hear. Ardith's body is exhausted, wracked and sore, but she feels a similar compulsion to rise as he commands and stand to her own two feet.

Her vision still swims, not quite straight, and she has to make sense of up and down all over again through the occultic haze. It surrounds her in a mist, oozes from her pores.

But the power. Oh, the power she can feel. Her heart, unrestrained, quickens and she gets dizzy quickly. It's not outwardly obvious yet she can tell. She is something more now, something so much better than she was literal minutes ago.

They will come to fear her power, he says. Once that would have frightened her too. Why would she want that? Now it's enticing, alluring.

"Y...yes, Lord," she replies slowly, her stammering evening out. Her eyes are opening. There is so much less to fear now.

"I'll...go rest. Yes. Thank you...thank you."

Ardith's voice trembles. This time with gratitude.
(Ardith)
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