Terminus: Delving into Nyctore

[15:49] With that thought, the lad sets the book down. Chuckling at the telepathic communications relayed to his head regarding Terminus' displeasure for not rushing back into the thick of the mainland.

"They will... Have their hands full... For a while... Worry not..." They'd remark, before gesturing towards the ceiling.

"Something had been... Leaving destruction... In its wake... So they'll be chasing that... Lead... For a foe... For the time being..."

It was clear that such a threat existed across the mainland, thought without apparent source as of yet. Merely the lead of desecrated villages.

Either way, for this night? They moved to their bookshelf, and pulled free the Litany of Undeath once more. Humming gently as they turn to return to their desk, and open it.

"I was once... Fanatic... Believing the Deathstream... A tandem existence... And shadow to Life... But it is merely... The Ebb... By a different name... And the essence a... Necromancer takes... I have concluded... Turns it into an entropic force... Something that... Renders the laws... Desecrated, and malfunctioned..."

An understanding it seemed, that just required time to pass, and for the knowledge to connect more dots in their head. Entropy, used to violate the laws of life and death. Yet, it held so much more promise, if only the art could be grasped better- Beyond the foolishness of raising armies for the sake of petty ambitions, as low as greed and pride.

The pages began to flutter from one end to the other as they were brushed to the side one by one, until coming to the chapter on rituals designed by the Brotherhood of the Cauldron.

"Ah... Nyctorre creation... I avoided this one... But... It comes to... Necessity... To see how it... Warps... Non-organic substance..."

A sigh escaped the sickly youth, their gaunt, lanky frame rising from their seat, as they moved to their chest filled with what few goodies they still had left.

Pulling free their private collection of assorted ores, and setting the container that held the divided collection upon the desk.

"Let us see... How Iron works first..."
(Orfeas)

[16:17] Another calamity was reaping havok upon Meranthe once more? Surely, that only further dwarfed attention from the duo. Terminus had found his mind mulling on the many possibilities -- growing mildly irate with his idling. "So, you've discovered it not to be a presence, but an echo... Surely, it happens more often than you think." claimed the patron.

"Gravity is assumed to be simply a 'magical force that pulls things down and about'... It's so much more. Then, the absence of such? It siphons space to it? A vacuum! Thus, it is more apt to call it something of 'telekinesis' when it is outright mastered.

Though, others would argue on semantics..." The grimoire took to an idle hum, resonating its presence throughout the room. The 'Demon Patron' was 'stretching his legs', dampening the encampment with his presence.
"It is clear the concepts are taking hold."

Then, came the mention of something new: "Nyctorre… I may have heard of this vaguely. Necromantic mana can change the flesh, as it is harvested from it... From metal? Does that imply that other things can also be warped by it? This draws so much more into question as to the capabilities..."

'Let us see... How Iron works first...'
A private collection of assorted ores were revealed and invisible eyes laden upon them.

"Iron... Far from the sort I'd see enchantable by the average artificer. Even further from the notion of being manipulated with ease. Surely, we can practice with something more malleable to mana, yes?"
(Terminus)

[16:44] "Waste not... Want not..." They'd remark in initial reply. Iron was hardly malleable to mana, true.

In fact, it was the third least enchantable metal, topped only by adamantite and tyrium in terms of how stubborn the material was when trying to alter it.

"Blindly tossing... Arcanium... Into a ritual... Would be disastrously... Costly..."

And coin wasn't exactly something they had in spades, to get an influx of the rare mineral.

Therefore? They took out a single unit of iron first, and set it aside as they continued to read over the book's instruction.

After reviewing the ritual's instruction, they finally pulled out a piece of parchment of their own making, and began to carefully scribe the patterns. Of which they'd grown somewhat familiar with, given the overlap with the rituals of reanimation.

Though, that did not mean they were free of flaws. As it still took a dozen or so iterations, before they finally had the correct setup.

Though, the arcanery at play was far more evident with what the rite aimed to achieve, given it was to alter the fundamental nature of the ore itself when transmuting it.

Once all was set? The youth reached for one of the jars on the far end of their desk, each holding two things within- The first being the tumorous bulbs they'd been creating with their Plagueland rituals- Each surrounded, and preserved in a form of pseudo-stasis by Juniper Sap.

"I pity... The fact that we... Have held back... So much... Ah... If only the world... Knew... The miracles... An inspired... Alchemist... Could bring..." They'd claim. Pausing in idle contemplation, before returning their attention to Terminus for a moment.

"I plan... To make a public appearance... Soon enough... To rally those... Who would listen... Under a Nihilistic Flag... To make them realize... Their gods... Are as Sinful... As the men... They claim to... Offer salvation unto...

The only... True path... Is one given value... By one's own mind... All else... Is delusion... And my path... Will be offered in turn... Not enforced... Nor encouraged... Merely... An option... For all... Who wish to tread it..."

With that said? They return to the experiment at hand, twisting, and tugging at the lid upon the container, inevitably popping it off, and extracting the bulb as they utter an incantation in a quieted, gentle tone.

"Heed mine call...
O' mote of cyclic Ebb...
Entreat this stone with thy chill thorn...
Of strength belonging only to that...
Which Bring An End..."

They'd incant, allowing the black, smoggy ichor of necromantic power to bleed forth from the cystic bulb, causing the plant-born thing to deflate as the power it held was depleted, and cast into the ritual.

Circling, and ensnaring the mere iron- Before showcasing Terminus' advice to be highly noteworthy. For no such potent alloy was born of its entry into the iron- Only causing it to rapidly oxidize, as though time was taking its toll a thousandfold per second. Until it collapsed entirely, into a pile of oxidized, useless scrap.

The likes of which, Orfeas merely brushed away with an inquisitive hum. Noting the results, despite it not being what was intended as an outcome.
(Orfeas)

[17:00] "Such antics feel of the nature that Empusa would accommodate..." The comment was followed by immediate laughter that echoed throughout the confines of the encampment. Odd... Acoustics weren't likely a natural mannerism in this setting -- likely a byproduct to his passive castings.

That was when the teen took to reviewing the instruction and scribing. For a fleeting moment, a subtle pressure carried itself with Orfeas' hand, almost as though to guide him. Though, it didn't last. It was clear from last time, the boy was determined to figure it out on their own.

Reluctantly, the presence waded away without the need for the boy to insist upon his efforts: Patience, was virtue that the proclaimed Demon Patron would have to claim this day. The flaws were permitted, as if to suggest that despite Terminus' lack of knowledge and study on the matter? He would offer much more accuracy.

Words spoken by the teen were to a seemingly emptyroom, but the hum of the Centricon ensured that something was listening. Terminus' presence had never left him, like a faceless aegis vying for an excuse to rear its head once more. The words he spoke... Only were warranted with a simple answer.
"Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeessss…"
The word cooed akin to a subtle breeze, clearly appeased by the notion. What more was there to be said? The path he was waiting for, was finally being tread.

It was time...
Incantations were spoken and ebonic ichor irradiated necromantic essence for the bio-matter before them. The alchemic ritual sought transmogrification of iron, warping it, before deteriorating it for something of...
Uselessness.

The results were examined by both, but alas? Clean-up was necessary.
No need for dramatic theatrics! The combination of magical trees at one's disposal allowed for a creative dismissal of such.

Raw shadows born of the Occult manifested in smog-like fashion to coalesce with the shape of the scrap: A conjuration of the Patron himself, enacting the magics imbued upon himself, unto the inorganic matter.
In moments, it was cloaked with his mana, contained in stasis... Before it was splintered apart -- transformed once more, but into something of an assimulated stature.

"I have been doing some theorizing while you've been studying as well... Turns out, it can be of great use when considering the magics of other magus in my existence."

The beast could've explained how the scrap vanished... But it didn't volunteer the information. That, was up to Orfeas to inquire, if they so cared to do so.

"On to the next..."
(Terminus)

[17:23] Though it might've once been cause for curiosity being stirred in the youth? Seeing the shadows overtake, and cause physical matter to vanish? Wasn't something entirely unknown in how it functioned.

Advanced Shadow Magics were often tools of assassins, and some tomes even told of those capable of concealing blades within the shadows they conjured.

Such was their assumption for Terminus' display as well. Even it was likely incorrect.

"Indeed..." They'd concur at least, in terms of moving on. This time, the advice was heeded, as they took out something more malleable in terms of mana conduction-

A shiny little chunk of Mythril.

"Closer... In outright sturdiness... But also won't simply melt, like... Orichalcum..." They'd mutter aloud. Even though the only one to hear it, could actively read their thoughts.

And again, they repeated the exact same steps. Writing the ritual's required ruenwork, given the last page was ruined by lingering particles of oxidized iron. Then, they placed the mythril at its central point of focus.

Uncapping another jar, they extracted another of the bulbs. Scraping a nail to wound the flesh of the fruit-like cyst.

Holding it aloft, to let its essence leak out, as they incanted the same:

"Heed mine call...
O' mote of cyclic Ebb...
Entreat this stone with thy chill thorn...
Of strength belonging only to that...
Which Bring An End..."

And so, it began again. The circling of the pitch-black miasma of decay, and entropic power. Siphoning into the metal.

Mythril was far less at risk of such rapid deterioration as iron. And it had excellent capability for mana flow, as proven by its favoritism in many-a-weapon.

Only proven further, as the luster of it reacted upon introduction of themaligned necrotic energy- Fading unto a dull, dark grey. At first at least. For it was a rapid overtaking.

And as more fed in? It started melt, and bubble at the side. Indicating leakage, with its inability to contain the rest of the input. Rendering it a useless, disheveled mess that clung to the parchment, and radiated a nausea-inducing presence, as though an impure clump of rock and viridium might.

Another failure in creating Nyctorre. And proving further, that there was only one tried and true recipe for its creation. A simple two ingredients, costly as they both were to expend.

And noting what they'd have to do in order to accomplish the creation of it? Brought a distinct scowl to the face of the youth.

"That... Settles it... Then..." They'd remark tih a sigh, moving to their nearby cabinet, and pulling out a drawer at its lowest point. Rustling through its contents as they continued the prior conversation with Terminus...

"The magics of... Other magus... Are what I hope... To utilize... By using the power... Of many... An artificial... Catalyst... Of great power... Can be born... Across several... Iterations...

To create something... Metamorphic... In nature... And inevitably... Entropic... That it might be used... To entirely... Unmake... The fragility and shortcomings... At hand... And reveal a... Purity... Beneath it all... Capable of... True ascent..."

Though, clarification on that would evidently have to wait as an "Ah-hah..." Rang out finally, as they pulled out a set of Arcanium-forged leggings.

The last gift they had ever received from Empusa. Though they'd yet to even make use of the protective garment for its intended purpose.

Nonetheless, it would find its first, and last usage here, tonight.
(Orfeas)

[17:40] The degradation of Mythril as the incantation was spoken was spectated in its glorious fashion. The small stockpile of resources required the utmost attention-to-detail to their every collective effort. From discoloration to deformation, producing an awful presence that... Brought upon an insidious idea within the confines of the daemonic patron's mind.

Surely, it was not useful to that of an artificer, nor to that of an aspiring necromancer. However, raw material left aside would provide evidence to their efforts... Moreso than what already was. What was to say it couldn't be re-purposed.

"I am curious as to how you plan to pull it off. How nature intends to reveal it to me... "
As attention was taken off of the ruined mess, it'd succumb to the drenching presence of Terminus. Transmogrifying it once more, not in true nature, but via the Metaphysical domain to match his likeness...
Away it'd go, to oblivion as far as visual constraints were concerned.

The 'Ah-hah' moment: The arcanium leggings from Empusa. Terminus hadn't the slightest clue where youth would procure them, thus no comment could be offered.

"So, you do have another trick up your sleeve... Here I thought Empusa had lost to last of our Arcanium."
(Terminus)

[18:04] "Raw Arcanium... Indeed she lost... The last of it..." They'd remark, before laying the lower armor piece across their chair, and then moving to the center of the room, shifting one of the stools aside themselves.

Oddly, not commanding Tibius to do so for them, this time. Perhaps because they didn't have the patience today, to just watch their Skeletal Butler bumble in the attempt for ten minutes.

Once it was done, they pulled out a piece of chalk, and then started to inscribe the sigils across the floor. Systematically working on the Quartet of patterns that surrounded the target-space.

The very same, in which they'd carefully lay the leggings in the minutes to follow. Positioning them, so that they remained wholly within the center of the sigils.

And then? They started to tread back towards their desk. "Loathe as I am... To admit it... I am a tad... Saddened... To have to relinquish them... I am sentimental of it... It was the last gift... Before she was slain..." A sigh eventually escaped them. For all their mentions of not wishing to be held back by such emotions, they certainly were allowing themselves to be chained to them here.

But nonetheless, they would procure the final bulb from this year's harvest. Scraping their nail across it, just as the previous two.

And a final time for the night, would come the utterance of that incantation to focus their mana towards infusing the metal with that necrotic essence that leaked forth from the Plague-Bulb.

"Heed mine call...
O' mote of cyclic Ebb...
Entreat this stone with thy chill thorn...
Of strength belonging only to that...
Which Bring An End..."

The last spectacle of the night, in turn, played out, as the smog spiraled, and cascaded across the armor piece, entering through the waistline of the leggings, to stretch across the entire surface area.

And so, would the luster of Arcanium be rendered profaned. Light ceasing to shine back in diamond-like sheen. And instead, what took its place, as an abysmal, inky black identical to the very miasma that was born of the Plaguelands ritual.

Though, given the lack of thickness to match the surface area? The arcanium would deform from the shape of humanoid proportions in the alloying process. The left, melding into a pointed edge, similar to that of a jousting spear. And the other? Entirely flattened in a collapsing motion.

Though, with the properties of Arcanium as a conductor and effective battery for mana? It took well to absorbing the Necromantic iteration, spreading rather evenly, and finding purchase as it claimed the metal, turning it into Nyctorre, though the leggings were entirely unusable now. And even then, who WOULD use Nyctorre leggings? They'd likely sap too much energy for their worth from the living anyhow.

But, at last, the ritual proved its effectiveness. It simply needed the right input.

"Ah... You may... Have the result... For your purposes... Terminus..." They'd offer in the aftermath, sighing as they got up, and started brushing away the chalk markings with a foot, before heading back to their desk, to tidy up.

"As for... The ascension catalyst... I mentioned... Occult Geometry... Is key... Massive amounts of input... is a way to get... Lucky... Eventually...

But the rule of Five... Dictates the resultant... Will be a Gestalt... Of much greater potential... Than the parts...

Five Elements... Five Parts... To create... A whole..."
(Orfeas)

[18:16] Eyes would've widened had the Patron desired to take a physical form. Never in all of its years had it bore testimony nor eyewitness to such an effort. Up until now, it was merely theoretic... Practice with little to no result! But now? Through Sacrifice, Orfeas had managed to manifest something truly profane: Nyctorre - even if in sparse quantity and questionable quality.

"Hmm... Interesting... I'll see to it that it is properly examined, studied... Understood"

More insidious ideas populated its mind. Surely, it wasn't nearly at the capacity necessary to prove of use to the masses... But what if... It were built around anyway? There were many potential options as to its application. The mana coated over it seemed nigh excessive compared to the other attempts prior. Perhaps, it was the nature of the metal? Though, akin to all of the rest of the messings, it too, was consumed by Terminus' magics.

"Your sacrifice, Orfeas, is a necessary step up the staircase of your ascension... Consider it symbolic."
Sentimental value did not exist for a demon -- Terminus seemed to struggle to feign it in the moment. Though, perhaps if the time came for it, he could put up the act...

Perhaps...

"The Rule of Five? You need the natural elements... While I can surely puppeteer lesser magi? I don't imagine they'd willfully play along. Lesser demons perhaps? It would surely draw a crowd of less than savory sorts... But the job would be accomplished nonetheless." Indoctrination was the sought-after claim to power for such an effort.

Though, how finnicky such abilities proved upon the land of Meranthe.
(Terminus)

[18:16] * You have been awarded 1 Levels! *
[18:38] Purity of the Nyctorre could definitely be brought into question. Especially when it targeted something already-forged. It was unusable towards enhancement. And its only purpose could truly be in study of it.

Nonetheless, the conversation would shift, and so too would their focus do the same.

"Yes... There are Five Rules in... Occult Geometry... Each number pertaining... Correlates with its definition...

The Rule of 1, is simply to never do it... Using a single input... Will output equally... Pitiful results.. And offer nothing of worth...

The Rule of 2, is purpose... For simplistic rituals, that are means... To an end... They get the job done... Nothing more...

The Rule of 3, Success... Three of a key ingredient will bring about almost assured success... But... It's potential is... Debatable at best... The weakness of Three, is that it is... Constantly open to... Unwanted influences...

The Rule of 4, Stability... The usage of four key ingredients, borderline outlaws undesirable influences in the ritual... Hence, it stabilizes the rite...

Finally, the Rule of 5, Ambition... That which is used to create high-functioning Undead... A showcase of what the rule refers to... By abiding it... Something of profound potential is born in the fruits of... The labor... Capable of so much more... For that investment..."

Though, they waved a hand to signal a transition to another topic.

"And by... Individually... Creating embodiments of the Five Elements... We would be left with the Five Key Ingredients...

To be consumed... And merged... Through an Entropic Touch..."
(Orfeas)

[19:04] Occult Geometry.
Such a term was never uttered aloud within its earshot in all of its years. Perhaps Terminus had unconsciously invoked the rule in its existence for other means, though it was bound to get an explanation in-time.

"A ritual..." Its voice rung out, "Yes… I think I actually have practiced this before." The name may've been foreign, but it would appear that for once, the scholar and the ancient had reunited in understanding for once.

"Five Elements... Five Parts..."
It was ticking at him...
Ebbing at him...
The memories of so many years prior proved foggy... But the rituals he cast? He hosted? He enacted... Those took a special place in his mind. To be immortalized, likely as a result to his incessant pride.


"If, what you're saying is true... Then, what you are describing was one simply scribed as an Ascension Ritual" explained the Patron. "In mytime, I've conducted three...

The ascended have never left my memory...
A harbinger of my flesh named 'Syrta' was most recent, though her ritual only was conducted by a total of three.
Before them? Two lesser demons... Gluxul and Talguth… I did not see them after the destruction of Abendrot, so it is safe to assume that all three of them have perished.

A shame I never got to see the fruition of my labor. The latter two would've succeeded in your claim... Assuming it requires a total of five collaborators." There was pause, "... No...

You meant literal magus elements, didn't you?" He adjusted his tone, "... Perhaps, you did not mean an ascension ritual as the Centricon has described... Perhaps you theorized this again, on your own... Or the Litany bears similar texts.

I never considered an 'Entropic Touch' in the nature you describe. Perhaps, you may be describing an ancient magic I have learned that transcends the Occult?" There was another pause before - "No... That is different, but it does not have to be..."
(Terminus)

[19:13] The teen paused for a moment, their eyes widening at the mention of one of those that Terminus supposedly assisted!

"T-Talguth...?" They'd question momentarily, squinting at the blackboard, before sighing, and shaking their head.

"Then... You may have... Had a hand in... Creating your own... Biggest threat... Allying itself... To Aphros..." They'd comment in response to that.

"That... Creature... Is rumored to have... Gathered an absurd... Amount of power... Having its own domain... And by what you claim they once were... They no longer are... Even a Demon..."

Though, that was the extent of their own knowledge on the subject.

"Entropy... In its truest form... Chaos... Disorder... The type of which... That is transformative... Warping the laws of what is... Real...

Regardless... I must rest... That took a lot out of me..."
(Orfeas)

[19:23] "Talguth is alive?"
Perhaps there was hope for Gluxul as well?
Nay, not all of his projects could be proven the test of time.

"How interesting... He managed to do it. Had I not fallen on that fateful day in Abendrot to Aen, Varrach and Sak'noth? Perhaps, I would've accomplished such too."

Of all the 'What-If's... This was the variant of reality he'd experience.
"A shame... But evidence that my absolute transcendence is destiny...

Infuriating that they would ally themselves with his own former hunters. Though, it has been almost a century since then. Times have changed..." The exhaustion of the human child only meant that the pulsating book would idle to itself: A silent sentry that could feel out the disturbances amongst the encampment.

Even rodents drawn to the smell of rotting corpses behind one of the erected walls would find themselves disintegrated via the malevolent castings of animated shadows -- not even leaving dust in their wake.

"Rest well, Orfeas… Big things are in store for your future."
(Terminus)