Terminus: Centricon-Reborn 3

[13:41] Syrta asks, "Patron, are you awake?"
[13:41] Terminus says, "I await what draws you..."
[13:49] With confirmation that the Patron was in fact present, Syrta began to set up the Ritual of the Marked, this time, it went a lot faster, having already done it once before. The materials placed, Syrta placed the lighting crystal over the runic inscription of the Centricon, smiling softly to herself. The first step to her goals was now within reach. And the pain she would suffer just a mere moment in the grand scheme.

Opening her mouth to speak, Syrta began to chant, no hesitation in her voice, as she did so, clearly intent on walking this path.

"Id quod unum me facit renuntiavi, nam nunc sum plures."

With the words spoken, she directed her mana into the lighting crystal, activating the spell, and preparing herself for the pain that was to come when the spell came to life.
(Syrta)
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[14:04] A deep exhale filled the air with a dampness that sought to weigh upon Syrta. The ebonic miasma that cloaked around her person siphoned subtly at the encompassing flesh that pulsated away. Eyes looked over in a lulled state, for though Terminus was awakened... It was clear that he was far from at their peak.

The eyes looked upon the teenager as they hastily put together the preparations for the ritual, establishing a circle with the material with... One... Minute detail out of place.
The southbound portion of the symbol was... Off.
The amber chunk's placement was just slightly too far from perfect as they had done prior.

Scrutiny was paid to this discrepancy in silence by the proclaimed Demon Patron, with the dominant eye gazing upon her in expectation.

'Id quod unum me facit renuntiavi, nam nunc sum plures.'
The words of the ceremony had been spoken, and alabaster static sparked into being, dancing alongthe reagents as they had prior. However... Something was... Different this time. The static had started to turn for a sanguineous hue, tinting the air with its malefic tint.

"In your haste, you neglect my expectation of perfection..." The Terminal's voice boomed throughout their self-made altar.
"I accept naught less without recompense."

Tendrils emerged from the encompassing scene to surround the leylines of the forged runic symbols taking shape around the tribute and Syrta alike, consuming them whole. Unlike the simple immolation that her predecessor faced, teeth were unveiled from the length of the tendrils, wrought down upon her flesh and rending through the skin.

It was not deep enough to shred her apart, but sufficient enough to peel the skin away. In its wake, it left the entity's mana -- A fuel to be ignited by its faceless malice. The result: Occult flames that burned, not merely at her skin... For it was rended away, for her minor mistake.

Flayed first, to be incinerated by the very flames of eternal shadow promised by the ritual. Once it was done, the tendrils receded into the fleshborne ground, leaving only a skinned, burning woman in its wake.
For magus ilk, such an injury could heal despite the severity... But it would take an exceeding amount of time.

"Your endeavors have been rewarded... But your imperfections reprimanded. Let it be a lesson, not to falter again."
(Terminus)
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[14:09]
{LOAD GAME}

[14:10] {Won Restrained RPB against Syrta}
[14:15] ** Terminus has inflicted an injury upon Syrta. ("Desanctified Flesh", "An imperfected ritual casting has resulted in the very skin being rended from the flesh. Once it was exposed to the elements, it was swiftly coated in foreign mana and ignited with the occult flame. The burns have managed to poison your circuitry. Focusing on the pain, seems to strengthen your connection to this parasitic essence. Though, the loss of skin will take a long time to heal back from. The very air of the encompassing world ails you for the time being. Covering it, seems to help somewhat...", "Temporary", "Duration: Long (12 days)") **

[14:22] Perfection, lost in the rush for glory. A mistake that she would only make once, lest the next time she be cast down. She had been to greedy for power at a critical moment.

The agony of being flayed alive was unlike any the young ursidae had ever experienced, the skin on her body being peeled away as punishment for her lack of attention, but the mana provided all the same. A small forgiveness, one she would not take for granted. Then came the flames, and that's when a audible howl of pain erupted from her mouth, the flesh underneath scorched by the occultic fires that now bathed her.

Syrta sought solace in the only place she could, her mind, as she chanted the Heralds oath silently.

I renounce that which seeks further bloodshed, for soon we shall never bleed again.

I renounce that which drives me to bloodlust, for we will not stay blinded by the flesh.

I renounce that which makes me mortal, for soon we shall join the undying.



I call upon the end’s herald, for the strength to carry his vision so that I may achieve mine.

I call upon the end’s herald, to offer up my flesh and soul so that I am rewarded his.

Through the cost of his hand, I shall live forever more- No longer to suffer mortality’s wrath.

But of a dreamscape crafted for me, and to all who also see…



Usque Terminus


Focusing her pain into a force of will, she stood, smoking, and hurt, but reforged in the Patron's making. She would have to make certain no more missteps were made, for they demanded perfection, and nothing less would suffice.

"By your will Patron."
(Syrta)
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[14:27] "Now go forth..."
It spoke, tendril pointing for the exit.

"Into the world once more... When you return, with Calypso likely in tow? Perhaps, I shall bestow upon you a gift... That, of your next pages of ritual for your devotion thus far.

The desanctification of your flesh, screams for such a remedy..." It allowed for silence to settle, before slowly lulling its eyes for yet another slumber.

It was time to rest, until another would venture into its depths once more.
(Terminus)
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[14:30] The patron had spoken, and it was time to go. She still had both the ritual of greater ascension to prepare for, and now, a new ritual to potentially learn.

With a nod, and a slight bow, she turned and left the altar. Much to be done, and she would do it right the first time.
(Syrta)
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