Terminus: Entropic Core Ignition

[19:31] The soldier entered, a slight limp to his walk, to kneel by the foot of the pool. Once again, injury had struck- and once again, he bore the harvest. The last drops needed, to charge the core. The last pieces required.

It was time, soon. Soon, the clock would turn, and that final window would open. It would be ready.

"There has been a development.

The grand sorcerer, Illumitar, holds a tournament soon in the tower of Aetius. The fights are likely to the death. The risk is very high. But the rewards- are rumored to be beyond anything else.

The Kaorblades of the Perfect Demon Indras. A godslayer scroll. A recipe for a plague that causes extinction. These are but a few."
(Laurentius of Terminus)

[20:07] The mention of Kaorblades of the Perfect Demon Indras certainly earned some gasps across the room. There were still some amongst the numbers that recounted stories from their parents...

Of a gargantuan beast along the horizon -- One that was felled by the masses of Meranthe's forces.
One with several champions that sought to express Extinction upon the mainland and some of the more populated islands. They were safe... Their Patron looked onward from their shores... Now? More of their presence was discovered.
A tournament -- One of which, that Terminus was now privy to.

That, and a Godslayer scroll...
It was inevitable that he would be there too... Or perhaps, simply send his forces to retrieve it: Varrach.

Every last member of Meranthe hungry for power would strive, cleave... Tooth and claw, for every last morsel they could claim. What could truly ensure Laurentius' strife... His growth, would most likely come in the form of this recipe for a 'plague'.

But of course, there were more matters than what he mentioned.

The voice spoke true to them:
"A tournament sponsored by a Grand Sorcerer? How different. Though, such risk of Death surely would never apply to you...

Not while I exist. Your soul shall never be allowed to escape this plane."

A pulsation of mana sought to rattle through the cobblestone, to feel through the air and phase through metal, through cloth, flesh and finally bone...
The maladies of the vessels abroad, would soon be exposed to him.

Despite such, he spoke on it -- Curious as to the story behind it.
"Tell me... Of how Meranthe has landed its curses upon you..."
(Etheric Presence)

[20:46] "It will occur within the Hollow World, what was used to trap Vdali. Another realm. Off of this plane.

There is concern."

At this, the soldier shifts to a more... inaudible conversation. Of course, everyone knew who Indras was. The idea that three of his kaorblades were up for grabs... was possibly calamitous. Varrach's forces would be doubtless present.

"[It is a tournament to the death.]

[If I visit under Antefinem colors, and fall... then we will be discovered. And if I win, it will draw many eyes to our prize.]

[On the other hand, if I go without the mask, then we may never be seen with the reward.]

[Your orders, are your orders, My Lord.]"

Then, to this, the last question- nothing more than blunt force trauma, already mending. "Simply a magical beast. It was very close. My different approach is working well. One strike was the difference."

He seems... overall unbothered.
(Laurentius of Terminus)

[21:04] The Hollow World was something unique...
Something that Terminus had otherwise not heard of before today -- Laurentius had opened his eyes to it. Then, there was the other conundrum -- On one hand, he could send him as Laurentius, and they would be praised for their bravery... However, many questions would come from this...

What uses would a paragon of justice and democracy have for a Kaorblade other than its immediate destruction? What use for a recipe for a plague? Why else would they be there, other than to thwart such an endeavor? Nay -- It was not a task meant for Laurentius. It would sully the very image of Antefinem.

Thus...
"You will go as your true self... For even in victory, you will stand to fail before the eager eyes of Meranthe as a whole."
Those words, spoke directly into Laurentius' mind, so that the onlookers would not hear. They, made the most sense,for the Patron...
Laurentius had much to lose... From their identity, their claim to justice, their fostered relationships...

But Mordeaux?
All they had claim to, in the eyes of the world... Was their own ambitions, devoid of inhibitions.

The matter concerning the origin of one's injury seemed rather unintriguing -- It would seem the mystery in the cause was what drew the most interest. Then again, what matter did such paltry instances have in the grand scheme of things? The little spikes of enjoyment were just justifications to satiate his bitter spite for mortals abroad.

It was subtle at first, but the strength of the siphon tensened, drawing past like a stiffening breeze that'd carry nowhere. The weight of one's entropy was vanquished, stowed to the fathoms below... Stirring... Festering.
For how much longer? One could only wonder...
All the while, one's core churned... Mumbled...
It was nearing its maturity, where it could ignite for a final time.

This time, to remain alit eternally within its host...
(Etheric Presence)

[21:10] "... then I will gather enough essence to be empowered. And I will go, then, as myself, and claim a victory. Whatever the prize may be."

If he died, he died. If he won... then victory was theirs, and the consequences to follow could be immeasurable.

It did not really matter if he fell there. He had gathered well, empowered his patron to the best of his abilities. Perhaps the patron could seize forth the same soul, but most could not. It did not matter.

He would try his best, and come what may, he would have fulfilled his duty.

Slowly, the core stirs- soon. Very soon. So incredibly soon...

For now, he would prepare and grow further.

"[I have corrupted the ring. I will finally empower it with a bloody rite upon the dwarven caravans, as thus was the source of the amber, and I will invite one of Viritas to join- to deflect, unto them.]

[To lull them.]"

Deception. Bait. Deflection. Backup, in a way. None would question his origins then, of course. Such were only advantages in his eyes. It is tacked on almost as an afterthought.
(Laurentius of Terminus)

[21:27] The utilization of Viritas was creative though... Providing Antefinem with yet another scapegoat for their endeavors. A much better demonstration of intellect than many previous followers. It did not seem as though Laurentius was one to be sent out, with concern of the consequences to his actions.

Yet, there was still risk...
There was always risk...

What if... Terminus -couldn't- manage to draw Mordeaux's soul back from the ether?

What if... Mordeaux -did- perish in this tournament?

What would Antefinem have to explain Laurentius' disappearance? Could they fashion someone else to take upon Laurentius' mantle? Their identity? Surely, it wasn't beyond one's capability. It was certainly an idea...
But who? How? The thoughts that rummaged through one's mind carried onward until...

"On the day you set forth for the tournament, you will carry upon you... One Invisibility Potion. You shall leave your helm, and colors here... For a special transport shall be provided to you. Should you succeed... The potion will enable you to return without knowledge of your travel...

Should you fail, and falter...
Your material shall be kept to ensure -you- shall continue to exist by my Hand..."

Whether that meant he could be summoned back into a new vessel, or an entirely new individual was risen from beyond the veil to take their mantle, was still in the air. None truly knew...

All except one fact...
'Laurentius of Terminus', would live on... No matter the cost.
(Etheric Presence)

[21:38] Scant few necromancers could pull back the same soul. And yet- the entropic core within him... could that be the key? Or perhaps, the heart, perhaps the mark.

Perhaps even if the same soul could not be returned, the spirit could be preserved.

Yet all of these paled to a singular, far more simple solution:

Just don't lose.

Laurentius was strong. Mordeaux would be stronger still without the need to hide what he was. That is the plan. "I still have one invisibility potion. So there will not be an issue there."

He would be ready. Hel or high water.
(Laurentius of Terminus)

[21:49] Laurentius of Terminus thinks, "Have you any other orders- or do we wait until the core charges? It is nearly there."
[21:55] Etheric Presence's voice (to Laurentius of Terminus): For now, we wait... The time is nigh.

[00:28] Perhaps, it was the subtle pulsation that beat through the walls...
The Godseed's rhythmic percussion beating with steady fervor, to signify the Patron's summoning of His followers...
Of his clergy...
Of Laurentius...

It was time...
Upon arrival, the abyssal pool was alit; glowing a vibrant lavender that'd stain the atmosphere. The air was strong with Occultic suggestion, brimming with its chilled touch. The ethereal resonance of the ancient filled the air, and permeated the spire's exterior for a soft halo of clouds amidst its skybound stretch.

"At long last... The wait is over."
The Entropic Core was close to completion, and with every channeling of essence to fuel it, to ignite it... It offered a soothe of the harsh exposure of existence upon a sheltered Mordeaux beneath. It offered...
Reprieve.
Solace.
Each attempt, each offering... Fleeting.

Though, this was to be different...
This time, not only would it be fed... It would be ignited... It would roar to life. It would exude its aegis unto its beholder, so that they may bear its fruit.

"Step into my depths... So that you may emerge anew. No longer shall the core implanted within you act as a burden, but alas... Become your greatest source of strength."
The shining pool beckoned for Laurentius to step forth, acting akin to a beacon for a ravenous core within.
(Etheric Presence)

[00:52] {Item} You throw Mana Reliquary.
[00:52] {Item} You picked up Mana Reliquary. Dropped by Etheric Presence..
[01:02] Something had called, and he had answered. The core within had resonated, the angry hum subsided as it adapted to the energies stored within. It was... a background noise, to him, after so long. Something that became noticeable only in it's absence.

The pool glowed, strong with power... as the wait had ended.

He wasn't quite sure when he had come here. He was dozing, dormant, resting- a mind wandering, until now, he was within the room. He doesn't question thus- The quiet had drawn him into a slumber, a mind unconsciously seeking an end to agony, with nothing to distract it, fled to the one place it could- even if he did not recognize the reason why... yet he was still his Lord's soldier to answer.

Even if it was a fleeting reprieve, the barest ghost of the truth... no longer would it be so. The final step, tonight- as without thinking, without even a moment of wait, he stepped forwards- and sank...

Down, down once again, into that glowing pit. The lavender hues paint over armor kept mirror-shined, sodden once again in the fluids of that pool suffused with flesh- like against like, breathless lungs and a limp form bringing him to align on the cobbled floor once again, to kneel.

Somewhere down here, lay The Lord. The proximity alone was enrapturing for what it represented. Naught had changed- for while many undead were resentful, others loyal, he firmly resided in the role of the devoted instrument.

His lord's hand, upon the world.

He waits, now, for the last moment- hard fought and won- that will mark his step into something greater.
(Laurentius of Terminus)

[01:37] So many hard fought battles...
Some victories, others defeats... All of which, towards a glorious endgame -- A true purpose beyond the wanton destruction and dismay.
With each step, one could descend deeper into the depths... Until, it took them whole. Alas, they could be swaddled in the gleaming shine...
The chill of the occult seeking to numb the senses... All of which, to compliment the sensation once deemed so fleeting.

It filled from all angles, all to permeate metal and flesh for a beckoning core. One that would see the weight of the world and its maladies lifted once more...
No longer did gravity seemingly ache at the bones...
No longer did the air hiss at the skin...
No longer did the ambient light ache the eyes... Did the putrid blood still being cleansed within one's anatomy dredge on like a sickly sludge.

Bliss would return, as it always did... But this time? The hum of the core seemingly fell silent. Did it die out? Withered to naught but a whimper? Perhaps Laurentius had grown so used to it, that not only was it tuned out, but its sensation that'd rumble to, would falter as well?

If such were the case... Then, how was it that the aching... Ceased?
As though a promise was fulfilled at last...

No more suffering...
Though, there was certainly something else...
Within the aquatic domain that Laurentius found themselves within -- now being appended to by... Rogue buds of flesh. They clumped to one's armor, slipping around in snail-like fashion to slip into the seams of one's armor. Small... Pea-sized, but abundant in quantity, finding exposed flesh beneath. They acted less like independent aspects of Terminus and more like nourishment to the layer of growing skin beneath the armor.

Perhaps, such a development would be shrouded in plagued bandages, or simply hidden in an alternative set of armor, but it'd spider along the elbows of one's arms, spanning through the armpits and shoulder regions of the body. However, there was only so much that the excess entropic essence could supply. After all, the ultimate goal of this endeavor was fulfilled at last...

The hum of the core was replaced with the quiet rippling it made within one's vessel, willing to groan at the behest of its wielder in the presence of entropic energies to feed upon.
In the meantime, the damages of one's vessel was to be examined, especially with such proximity offered...
Damages that insinuated blunt trauma... Surprisingly rare.
With the exception of the standard magic-induced concussion.

While the wrapping of skin did not breach the skin, the resonating energies of Terminus certainly did, re-analyzing the full extent of the results of conflict upon Laurentius' sheathed vessel.

"Rise from my depths, and realize your boundless ascension beyond your predecessors..."
An antigravity well inverted the weight of the world, so that Laurentius may rise up through the depths.

"Rise from my depths, so that the world may bear witness to your ascension..."
The sickening pop of bones spilled with the squelch of sinew -- Joints were being forcibly rearranged, sockets sunken back into their rightful place. Any micro-fractures of bone resulted in the entire limb ignited in occultic pyre, before fusing back together outright. Tears in the flesh were met with similar treatment, building into new muscle to reinforce what still remained.

"Rise... Knowing soon, you shall no longer bear the face of the fallen, but One of Many.

Many, that shall follow suit with you...
So that we may all become Many of One."
The glow of the pool was gone, contained solely by the vessel of Laurentius now...
It'd die down at their volition, revealing that the surge was all for him.

An Agent of The End, For The End, By The End...
Until The End
Whether during undeath, or re-death.

There would be no rest, until it was done...
(Etheric Presence)

[01:38] Etheric Presence applies first aid treatment to Laurentius of Terminus.
[01:38] Etheric Presence applies first aid treatment to Laurentius of Terminus.
[01:38] Etheric Presence applies first aid treatment to Laurentius of Terminus.
[01:38] Etheric Presence applies first aid treatment to Laurentius of Terminus.
[02:04] So many... how many was it now? Seventy eight. That was the number. Seventy eight battles, some winning, some losing. As he had grown, as he had strived, he accrued more of the former and less of the latter. It was not enough yet, of course- he needed to grow, further, faster. To win every time.

At least, in the tournament...

That energy, piercing within... no more did the world's pull drag, no more was the air like knives, no more was light an ache, no more were voices like nails on chalkboards, the breath of others a rasping file on his skull. No more was the blood in his veins sludge, bile in his throat, the sensation of being the excrement beneath the world's fingernails ebbs.

Bliss.

The absence- is bliss. To experience existence without the ever-present backdrop of agony, the contrast was incredible... the core finally falls silent within him, and yet the aching remains- absent. No more pain. No more... misery.

Little buds of flesh find their way past clean linens, the bandages no longer so filthy now that the rot had stopped- he had changed them recently, for there was still a small amount of weeping, but nothing so severe. He did not reek of decay any longer.

And now... slowly does the skin grow further, at least a little. Not enough, a little more on the arms, a touch more about the shoulders. More power was needed- and yet... now...

... now the core rippled, gently. Now it was finished. To gather that power would be trivial in this new state, and though it may take time to recover the cost of the core itself, his growth would be explosive forward for it's presence.

And so, he rises. His bones, his joints, rearrange at once- fusion, tears mended, as the body finishes it's reformation in full. Mended. Ready Prepared.

Soon, he will be whole. Already, he was... more. Abomination, to some. Hallowed, to others. The next step, to Him. So too, as Terminus had poured his attentions over Laurentius- did Laurentius's existence only serve his Lord's.

And so, up he rises, with the promise of more to follow him. Up, to climb from the pit, to stand upon the precipice as all that energy rests solely within his setting form...

The Agent of the End.
Of His Flesh.
Of His Will.
To serve, in whatever shape was needed.

Until the End.

Yet now, as he stands upon the edge of that pit, as his mind intones the ever-present words- "[Thy will be done, My Lord,]" the mind already lulls back into torpor...

For with the agony gone, as he walks in hazy state from the chambers, finally free of the base agony of existence- a body slowly, finally mending, the ever-shifting mass of cancerous fleshslowing as it no longer fights decay without cessation- he has been granted a gift most profound, at last.

An end to his suffering.
The first real rest he would have, tonight, before the harvests continued ever-on... to fuel his master's flames ever higher...

Though he does not often give himself the luxury of wants, for tools did not need them- it would be... nice, he supposes, to truly rest for a little while, and awaken not into agony- but refreshed and ready.

Step by step, does he move towards the exit.

"[There will be no relent, nor hesitation or doubt...]
[I will march on, until it is done.]
[Until the End.]"
(Laurentius of Terminus)