Terminus: Machinations Of The Unholy II

[21:46] Laurentius had returned, as usual- though beneath his cologne, and his armor, his body crackled with energy. Occult and holy alike, seething through his flesh and ripping at him. He strides past the guardsmen and clergy with the authority vested in him, making way- yet not abusing or shoving them. They simply know to move.

Still, he takes a knee near the front of the pool, as he has often. Yet now, the patron could perhaps sense something besides agony from his servant...

... satiety.

"... My lord. I bring tidings. The war is set to begin soon. A foe, Denali Dominic, believes me to be in contact with the witch Surras, and seeks her for reasons I do not know."

There is a long pause from the soldier of Antefinem at this, before he speaks again. "I have fed upon four magi... a gorgon, two beastkin, an undead. I fed upon the wildlife as best I could, until the void was full, and allowed it to fester in entropy."

He goes silent, waiting to hear his Patron's will. He had been told he may be able to fill it- and the hunger instilled within compelled him to do so... to consume mana, or flesh, or whatever would fill it.

The flesh and blood of magi was a potent thing, after all... rotting away, compressed within the body of an undead, steeping in all that necrotic energy and neverending plague.
(Laurentius of Terminus)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[22:12] Laurentius' voice broke through the veil, to meet the attention of a faceless presence that'd protrude from the pool. It hung onto every word, cataloguing the name mentioned for future consideration. If a foe was not outright vanquished, perhaps this Denali Dominic was quite the adversary -- worth keeping a close eye on, much like the Za'agan Sun character that seemed determined to prove a thorn at his side.

Then, there was this Surras character, a witch that had drawn the ire of this other adversary. Surely, it meant attention was thoroughly distanced from Antefinem -- but it meant a certain potential for multiple hiccups in their endeavor lying just over the horizon.

"These entities will both be regarded as foes until their alignment is dubbed proper.

They may prove a thorn in our endeavors here, if you are incapable of trumping them outright. Both this 'Denali Dominic' and 'Surras' for the nature of their conduct."
It was naturally presumed that they took to conflict with Mordeaux -- though, the reasoning was likely fairly obvious. At the end, it was simply presumed that a servant of any Marqui was an enemy of himself... Anyone determined to hunt down a servant of a Marqui was a future issue.

A gorgon.
Two beastkin
--and another undead...
Four magus entities, with plenty of fauna as nonmagus collateral...
It was certainly enough...
Enough to act as a catalyst -- but not quite enough to establish a certain effect.

What was initial meant only to be a distraction for the common folk had inadvertently managed to become a stepping stone for so much more.
Thus, the mind toiled at the possibilities...
Flesh, could only accomplish so much on its own -- even with magical to manipulate at it... But something that was tailored to the very essence that irradiated such a vile amalgam within the contents of one's stomach? Such could theoretically enable an instrument to act as an amplifier.

It wasn't unlike having multiple minds around a psion to amplify their psionic powers... Rather than raise another from beyond the mortal coil? Perhaps, a substitute could be conjured from within Laurentius...
Within Mordeaux…

Though, it left one with some immediate issues... If such an instrument were to be created from this... Wouldn't it ruin the illusion of humanity? To replace one's ability to consume outright? Further thought on the matter revealed the error of one's train of thought.

There was no need to fear such potential reality, for such an instrument can be tailored to unmake what it came in contact with... To transmogrify it, not unlike his own active magics -- so that the material is discreetly disposed of, or properly transformed into material that is of better use:
Transmutation.
Surely, such a concept was beyond the Occult and the magics he dared to harness... But perhaps, the magnitude he sought to accomplish such, betrayed such a notion.

"Step into my depths. I shall amend the satiation within you... To provide you with yet another of my gifts."

(Etheric Presence)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[22:18] Laurentius rises, somewhat unsteadily given the immense trauma he's experienced. The crackling, opposing mana types within him wrack his body, as he walks with uneven steps into the pool once again- sinking far beneath the blackened 'waters,' to drift into the dark.

Here lay the wounds upon him- though some had already regenerated... severe burns from holy fire, and occultic markings saturating him with the desire to destroy. His hunger had been sated, for the singularity within his stomach had been filled in full.

... a wealth of corrupted flesh and mana, compacted so tightly, filled with that plagued essence that marked his existence. Saturated in entropy.

Perhaps it could be something... more..?
(Laurentius of Terminus)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[22:40] How determined Meranthe was to maintain the very order of the lifestream that subjected them to the very torments of existence...
It was an injustice that Terminus would be determined to undo.

When it came to the growing list of sins of humanity? Almost no misdeed was too low, if it meant achieving the Vision. Sinking into the depths meant that the powers of the exorcist would find immediate challenge -- drowning in occultic blood. However, the Mark of Destruction was only strengthened in the presence of the Patron.

In the past, he was confronted with endless waves of Exorcists, growing intimately knowledgeable on their methodologies. Aenites originally took the place of Mortylites -- for Mortyl lacked a strong followership while Terminus walked amongst Meranthe.

It was for this reason, that anything remotely associated to them was lost upon Terminus -- more familiar with displays of Death Magic in homage to their alignment. Gradually, the holy magics withered away, with esoteric magics slowly mending seared flesh back together again.
"Surely, the exorcists deserved nothing less than damnation. A shame you were shy of punishing them proper...

The time will come that such changes... Inevitably."
The deep lacerations imbued with mana were recognized discrepancies beneath the armor, fed with the Patron's essence with the intent to overload the wards. They were meant to function in a particular way, and without the proper instruments, they were designed for failure. Applying much more than they were ever meant to handle left them to intensify Laurentius' more destructive mannerism, however - such considerations would fade with the very flesh the characters were bound to, charring to dust -- wading away in the ebonic substance encompassing them.

Mortyl's Punishment proved much more determined -- A counter to the Patron's magics, daring to repel bones as they were forced back into their proper positions, to incinerate flesh meant to be mended together...
To incur pain upon something deemed unholy...

"Their power will never overwhelm you for long... Because it will always falter before my touch."
Overconfidence and underestimation of one's threats brought one to the dismay of a defunct body, but alas... Perspective shifted when the realization of a greater aegis came to one's attention. No longer of a single fleshy vessel, but one forged of hundreds of men, spears and magi -- surrounding an encasement of stone, surrounded by sea.

"Reach before you, and embrace what I have created..."
At the bottom of the shrine pool's depths, one could witness the image of Terminus' husk. It lied still, with crimson hues piercing through the darkness. Upon their open right arm, lacking the extravagant display of the circuitry-based branding upon their left, lied the previously bled lump of Arcanium.

It was the holy conjuration of Perfection - no longer, defiled from the nature claimed to be borne of Kraus.
Now, it was Nyctorre… A creation deemed to challenge even the evils of Hel itself.

"Consume it."
A simple command, without a clear goal explained...

(Etheric Presence)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[22:52] Euxenos Krima says, "...Patron- I'm not sure if you're... Well enough to respond... But- I've done it! I've acquired the original Sorcerous Grimoire."
[22:58] The room seemed oddly still, with any magus presences save for perhaps Euxenos -- being submerged deep within the shrine pool's vantablack substance. Those that would meet Euxenos would be the clergy, in particular? The current Maledictus.
''Impressive! A child, managing to go above and beyond to procure such... A coveted artifact.''
Had Euxenos realized just how big of an accomplishment they managed to achieve? Something that Terminus had been hunting down for quite the while... Now, within the bounds of the isle...

A mere few feet away... Was the last step in one's effort to achieve the precipice of Divinity.
The air shifted, for the people present acted as a psionic amplifier for communication to ensue.
(Etheric Presence)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[23:03] Etheric Presence's voice (to Euxenos Krima):
*The buzz of static is brief, but the psionic connection is establish soon enough...*
The original Sorcerous Grimoire? Quite the accomplishment, Euxenos Krima... The contents of such, will liberate me from the very Contract Magics that the 'High Sorceress of Arcanum would have been bound to. Enjoy its contents for the time being... For I desire to have its contents revealed to me momentarily.
You've done well... I shall see your boon brought to you, when the time comes.
[23:04] Etheric Presence says, "Established*"
[23:17] Laurentius of Terminus ponders, "... should I remain silent until he leaves?"
[23:19] Etheric Presence's voice (to Laurentius of Terminus): Yes.
[23:19] Within the pool, Laurentius simply allowed himself to float in silence. Waiting.
(Laurentius of Terminus)


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[23:21] Etheric Presence's voice (to Euxenos Krima): Until then... I shall dismiss you to your devices.
[23:22] Euxenos Krima says, "As you wish-"
[23:30] Euxenos departs, and now, Laurentius stirs. Their secret must be maintained.

He allows himself to drift within the pool, simmering resentment and ire building steadily within. The occultic influence that had set over his form overlay something else, something that had festered.

Anger.

Overwhelmed, beaten down so many times, always they yap and whine, he had grown resentful of it... not of fighting, not of his own existence:

Of theirs.

The runes overload, sputtering out, as the lingering holy mana is snuffed likewise- but the man remains ired deeply all the same. More calm, perhaps, but angered. The body regenerates, things being set back together again, faltering before the grace of their Lord.

Within the mire, he cannot see- only sense, only feel. Was it overconfidence that drove him to such extremes of battle, or something else? Perhaps he simply did not care. He knew his duty and would carry it out regardless. To Harvest, that was all- regardless of what happened to his vessel, that was his purpose, his order.

Yet here, came something before him to consume.
The Nyctorre. He can't see it, but he can feel it's presence- the anguished, tormented soul within crying out...

He settles down upon the base of the pool, finally. A step forwards, the weight of his armor keeping him down. Another, and another, until he is before his Lord, reaching out blindly to close his gloved fingers around the accursed metal.

Consume it...

His hand raises up towards himself, helmet removed to expose the horror beneath it- the rotting, ever-growing and reforming, boil-and-pustule ridden surface of his skinless face. The bled Arcanium, taken from Kraus's light, is molded into a sphere by his control over metal- placed into his mouth, and swallowed without hesitation.

It burns, all the waydown- too large to be comfortable, bruising him as the soul lashes out in it's ceaseless torment... until it reaches that core, fed upon flesh and blood and undeath, saturated in suffering and the meals claimed from those too weak to oppose him.

Upon those who had felt the touch of his plague, who's mana dense blood had nourished him, the singularity had fed... and the abominable metal finds it's way inside next.
(Laurentius of Terminus)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[23:54] The flesh of Laurentius, was His...
The magic spell that forged the singularity within one's stomach? His...
The very attunement of one's mana? Bore to his own...

It enabled a sense of control that transcended the typical magi unto another...
Endeavor after endeavor, Terminus sought to claim the path to divinity -- and every power over the masses would be exercised. However, the power one had over Laurentius... Over Mordeaux…
Was only that...
Limited, for they were still Imperfect…

Perhaps, this new effort would remedy such, better than the efforts prior...
An incursion of magic casting from the Patron sought to warp at the physical constraints of the sphere of Nyctorre. The singularity was flexed upon, daring to cover more space and press at the boundaries of one's abdomen.

This was hardly much different than the imbuement of the Patron's Mark -- except this time, he was not scribing inscriptions upon a heart. Rather, he was remotely merging materials into one another. An accomplished artificer would find hammer meeting anvil with such material forced between it... But this?

This was raw flesh...
This was raw mana...
This was harnessed entropy...
This was defilement against Kraus himself...

Now, subjected to extreme pressures within the alchemic substance of the Patron's blood. Extraordinary pressure generated heat...
Heat that sought to boil the very substance that'd likely enter their gullet...

Perhaps, it'd give the illusion of miasma rolling from their lips -- even if light would never beget an image for any to gaze upon it, at least the sensation could be felt.

What would come of such, was physically smaller than before...
Infused with the occultic mana of the catalyst it was forged within via magus-induced fusion.

The flesh had created something of a carbon-based shell, jet-black and smooth to the touch, had any had the privilege to gaze upon it. Within it, the entropy was spent entirely -- charging the bled arcanium, akin to a core within this obsidian spheroid. It kept the vacuum-like quality of the spatial anomaly from before, but something about its exterior was different... Solid...
It was provided a destructive quality that sought to unravel the very matter that it came in contact with, lacking any belonging to Terminus and His flesh within Laurentius.

To hunger, meant to feed this new construct, now suspending itself from the walls of one's stomach, pulsating a constant spatial aegis, as to defy the potential of 'unmaking' the body it was forged for.

To consume, would mean matter would be subjected to the occultic powers that would rip it apart, transmogrifying what could be of use into mana directly, or subjecting what proved useless to it to the shadows, to be belched out as a meager wisp of occultic smog. At the very least, it was likely that one would feel the pressures of such reactions underway.

This would mean flesh would no longer fill Mordeaux… But entropic absorption? The instrument was prepared... But whether or not it'd prove effective was... Unknown. At least, not for a while...

(Etheric Presence)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[00:13] To a living man, the process would be utterly agonizing- fatal, more than likely. To swallow Nyctorre was already madness. To have the Patron expand that sphere of Nyctorre within? The stomach would have ruptured, lungs would have been crushed-

Yet he was of the Patron's flesh.
He was of his Will, of his Mana.
His very soul held within the Lord's clutches.

All of his form was but a weapon, a tool to be reforged as Terminus saw fit.
The Nyctorre expands, the flesh parting and reforming to allow. The pressure generated heat fit to cook him alive- were he not already dead, even as steam forces it's way from his gullet.

A shell, formed within his belly of what had been claimed... an endless void, imbued with destruction. All that would have been devoured would be decimated in it's reach, suspended within his ruined abdominal cavity, a constant pulsing of power to prevent him from eating himself.

Anything consumed would be destroyed, rendered down to mana- or desolated to nothing. The flesh he had consumed, all of it had been used up as material for this dense ball of entropic power. Necrotic circuitry binds itself to the profanity laying beneath, nurturing the oblivion that lay within.

... still he hungered. The satiety departs, as that which lay within had become the antithesis of it. Yet... even as it rests, his rotting mana, so tuned with metal and blood, courses about it. Perhaps in time it would change further, as the rest of him had...

For now? Now, he bears another mark of his patron, another alteration- another step on progress towards some unknown end. Another means to harvest. All that remained was time for it to integrate properly... and set.
(Laurentius of Terminus)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[00:31] Perhaps the damage incurred by transmogrifying this abnormality within Laurentius' body could've been healed up rather quickly... It certainly wasn't repaired by the likes of the Patron -- likely due to the excessive exhaustion brought upon by the efforts thus far.

What remained of one's skirmishes amongst the mainland Merantheans were ultimately ebbed away with a final overcast wave to roll from one's head, down to their toes. The encompassing veil of telekinesis sought to claim Laurentius, slowly gravitating them upward at first, before steadily picking up in speed, coalescing bubbles in their wave, as the faint glimmer of light upon the surface rapidly approach.

They were being launched for the surface, allowed to breach and land at their own discretion. Their instruction was slightly different than before...

"Exercise caution... The boon procured by the boy is a prized possession. One that could see fire brought upon the isle, should it be discovered haphazardly. Ensure no harm comes to the boy here. The one known as 'Euxenos Krima'. They hold the grimoire necessary to complete my ascension...

One such construct that I shall use upon you, to free you from your suffering...
To make your Perfection an inevitability.
An Eternal...
Stripped of Pain...
Truly liberated beyond all means."

Nothing could be allowed to prevent this final step into the next echelon of power. Nothing else mattered more...
No longer could Terminus allow mishaps to let this opportunity slip past his fingers.

"Do this, and anything you could ever come to desire... Can be yours."
(Etheric Presence)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
His body was in a constant state of turmoil already, the price of his existence as a 'living' being... the lifestream's hate ever tore away at him, necrotic energies worrying at the tissue surrounding him. An agonized existence. Alterations came easy...

A landing upon solid ground finds more instruction.

Ensure no harm comes to him... that is something Laurentius could try to do, at least, even if he had to climb so very much further to do it. The book was the key... and he would be complete. A life without suffering is incomprehensible to Laurentius, his entire life so full of it that he didn't know what it was to be without. Didn't know that he should want it, until his Lord said he should.

All he desired would be his. Yet what did he desire?

He desired to do as he was told. The means were the ends.
No, something had begun to bloom...

... he'd quite like to kill Denali Dominic.
Shut him up, the incessant yapper that he was.

And that Yaeka woman, for daring to alter his form.
Perhaps all of them could be torn apart, and it would bring him some satisfaction.

Though overall, his primary desire remains the same. All for the glory of his Lord, that none may stand against him, that he may reign supreme forever.

Unto the end.

Perfection was what the Lord offered? Then it is what he would seek.
(Laurentius of Terminus)