Terminus: To Defy Mortyl I

[21:07] The waters stirred... The Patron at the depths irked ever-so-slightly...
He was in stasis to a limited degree, but he was not dead...
His presence... His influence... Irradiated the scene all the same. Before the shrine, prayers conducted as they oft did... But today, there were those in mourning...

Those whom mourned the ravaged forms of men, upon the fringe of demise. The nonmagus life, meant sickness was reasonably possible. With that, came unfortunate death... Magus medicine and prowess could fend it off, but Antefinem had a very limited number, and those beyond its borders had 'greater' focuses than the common man.

The rumors had it, that those whom had no where else to turn, could descend into the pit for a second chance at life... And thus, many did...
The mortally wounded would sink into the depths... Just as the morbidly sick...
But most, never rose back to the surface... It was a ritual that played off blind faith, and motivation from the Acentitus Mundus clergymen -- desperately clinging to the hope that their Patron was not dead... That their Patron could still heal...
That even the claim of Mortyl could be denied...

And alas... Amongst so many before? One... Changed...

Within the depths, their clothes unraveled, burned away with acidic prowess... Their skin peeling off, disintegrated with the layers of muscle beyond it. This, by all means was Death...

But for one in particular? Their very skeletal system was enchanted -- transmogrified by runic inscriptions that lined them all, surging essence from their very bone marrow and draft upon an ethereal circuitry that encompass it all. It developed a subtle sapphire glow... And proved animated despite the lack of bones -- a constant sequence of castings...

"A R I S E"
The waters parted, if only to enable a subtle telekinetic aegis to thrust the individual that defied the odds back to the surface... Where they could pull themselves upright as they stepped upon the surface...

As they stepped amongst the living...
As they earned the gasps of clergymen and praying loved ones all the same...
They were not the same individual they once were...
The majority of their memories were lost, with only flecks of their former self -- given no gray matter to truly process things as the mortal kin oft did. This, was the raw essence of one's spirit rended asunder, latched to skeletal remains...

This, was...
"G R I M W A L D"
A fresh start...
(Etheric Presence)
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[21:47] Life had oft been brutal to them.

Their mind was easily overstimulated -- the sensation of the waking world too much for Solomon to bear. Lights, smells, sounds -- all of it drove him to the brink of insanity if left unable to get away for long periods of time. Despite their natural intelligence, they could never convey such competency beyond mere thought. It often left Solomon the butt of other's jokes.

''Dimwitted.''

''Slow.''

''Incompetent.''

''A burden.''

These were but a handful of the things he'd heard over the years. In the wake of his meager existence, he'd caught leprosy -- a typical experience amongst the poor rabble. Just another poor soul born too unfortunate to have been given a better life, and unable to earn one themselves. Solomon was no ''unique'' tragedy...

He was a statistic.

A burden on society, and this reality is what coddled him to sleep every night. In between the tears, pain, and the feeling of creeping death looming over his shoulder, Solomon had only his misery to keep him company. The only words he was able to eek out when alone was a simple nursery rhyme from his childhood:

"Solomon Grundy.

Born on a Monday.

Christened on a Tuesday.

Married on a Wednesday.

Took ill on a Thursday.

Grew worse on a Friday.

Died on a Saturday.

Buried on a Sunday."

[ Time of death: 21:29 Sunday 27th, 2159AC ]

By the time he'd died, Solomon had lived a meager life. A failure. A mute. A reject. His only consolation was a family that did not have much, but lovedhim dearly. His father -- the only surviving man of his family had taken Solomon to Antefinem. The myths and hearsay surrounding the isle lured him there in hopes of rescuing his boy from such a fate, though he'd failed.

Unfaithful and uninitiated to the isle's Patron, he had guards bring Solomon to the pool. On a bleak and unassuming Monday, Erebius Grundy -- father to the deceased Solomon Grundy, professional wandering vagrant, head of a dead family name, and desperately grieving father took his boy to Terminus' shrine in tears. He figured that if he could be given a second chance, it'd be here. If all was for naught, however? Then at least he could find some meager solace in knowing he had tried.

...

"Born again on a Monday."

The vantablack waters of the pool boiled before erupting upwards. The black ichordrizzled back into the pool with not a single droplet wasted -- as if guided back in by an enigmatic force. From the waters came the ivory foundation of Solo-- no...

Grimwald.

Gone was the leprosy that had ravaged him and taken his previous life.

Vanished was the mental inhibitors that locked away his psyche and stunted his self-expression. Born-again and christened in the black waters of a foreign ''god'', Grimwald looked upon his father's teary-eyed smiling face...

With absolutely no recognition.

It took a moment, but the realization that Solomon had no recollection of them slowly registered as they turned their back to them and kneeled.

"I have awoken, Lord Patron.", their voice was cold and warped. This was not Erebius' boy. He was ''alive'', but not ''fixed''. This was a half-life, and a world he did not wish to be in knowing his only son had truly died. In his grief, the fragile old man tossed himself into the pool and was eaten away by the vantablack water's acidity.

"...", emotions hid themselves from others, but the Patron probably knew. There was just the briefest form of recognition upon Erebius' suicide. A tinge of sadness that welled within them. There would forever be fragments of who he once was locked away within his psyche, but never would he be able to fathom the amount of pain and anguish he should have felt right now. Even in death, Grimwald's life was just a divine comedy -- a tragedy that continued to go over his head.
(Grimwald)
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[21:50] Grimwald thinks, "Solo... mon... Grundy. "
[21:50] Grimwald ponders, "Why does that name... why does it hold so much weight to me after seeing that man kill themselves?"
[22:06] Yet another to the depths...
Would he rise? The occasional bubble suggested not... A shame.
So many humans perished throughout the ages... This was the first one that had returned from the brink. Even beyond his capability to move amongst the living, his influence sought to transcend divinity to deny even Death herself.

"You are the first... The first of many, to stand amongst the living, after the Pantheon and their Primordials dictated your unjust demise.

You mourn what preceded you. As they merge with my being - I find their fleeting thoughts reminiscent of... Yes… Of you.

With the making your new vessel, you will find new aspects to this life... Your past one is gone, but perhaps... Enough flecks shall surface to earn you solace."
It was unlikely... Perhaps, even a lie.
Most necromancers would never care to entertain their undead beyond servitude -- but an immortal Patron dabbling in powers that challenged divinity? Such, was likely not of the same cloth.

"You are incomplete.
Something I intend to correct... But the world... It is not welcoming to one of your stature...

You will don my colors...
You will sheath your vessel...
You will 'Become Human' by the accords of the common Meranthean.
A sword. An aegis. An eternal banner of Antefinem… Of Me..."
Clergymen of Acentitus Mundus looked on in bewilderment...
Someone had -actually- rose from the dead? From the substance that embodied their Patron? Surely, it was only the claim of man! There was no way that it could've been... But before their eyes, here Grimwald was...

Thus, they immediately darted outside to follow suit with the telepathically imposed message.

Clothes and armor... To ensure the forces of Antefinem were not outed by the masses before they could grow strong.

(Etheric Presence)
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[22:09] Grimwald says, "Yes, Lord."