Topic: BCU - A Lengthy Trip

Sivanna Cyredghymn

Date: 2009-05-21 00:26 EST
((Note: This SL takes place between 8:30 and 10:30 PM Rhy'Din time on the night of May 20th.))

The mark was red.

A lagoon south of Twilight Isle. A rock with a hastily-scrawled note attached.

The rock would sink to the bottom of the lake for a Keeper to find.

"Tonight, Neo. I go tonight. Do not look for me."

The oracle knew Sivanna's instructions. He was not to breathe a word of where she was headed. If she didn't return in a day, it wouldn't matter anyway, for it would mean her soul had been claimed by Chemosh, and she would wander the Abyss, a wraith, for eternity.

An elven cleric stood before the Gate of Souls with a small bone dagger in her hand. The mark for entry was a pitch-black pentagram indentation in the sand.

She trembled fiercely; it took all she had not to flee in terror.

"Breathe, Sivanna," the cleric reassured herself. Was that her voice" It was so small.

Paladine was dead. She wasn't sure who to pray to. In a futile effort, the cleric looked skyward and closed her eyes.

"Please let me see them again,? she toned out flatly. Behind her lids flashed a series of faces: A doctor, a pirate, an oracle.

A journeyman.

A sharp intake of breath was the only sound for miles in this arid wasteland as the cleric brought the blade to her wrist and sliced, severing the artery and spilling blood—spilling life— before the Gate of Souls. The price of entry.

Soon, there was no cleric and no gate. Only a mark.

The mark was red.

Sivanna Cyredghymn

Date: 2009-05-21 00:33 EST
Dante Alighieri's words did no justice.

The fear was overwhelming, petrifying. And yet, some unspeakable force drove Sivanna forward— made her experience the Abyss step-by-step, breath-by-breath. The air was calm. Silent.

Dead.

And she was drowning in it.

There was no horizon in the distance, for there was no ground or sky to divide. The cleric was hovering, floating, falling, and yet standing still on solid ground. The emptiness consumed her, stifled her, drawing the air out of her lungs and replacing it with vitriolic ichor. It burrowed into her bones and into her very being, finding the transient seams of the cleric's soul and torturously prying them apart. Months. Years. Alone. Empty. Afraid.

Make it stop. Make it stop.

How long had she hovered there" It might have been seconds, but it may as well have been centuries. However, in the next instant, Sivanna wished the terrifying emptiness again with everything she had.

She was in Silvanost, and the countless dead hung in trees.

No. The dead were trees— Tens of thousands, and everywhere. In place of the fruitful life that once thrived in and around the Tower of the Stars, there now grew stumps of rancid flesh, contorted limbs with broken fingers, corpses with the faces of her fallen kin. The world parted in a black and white symmetry, for while the earth beneath her soles was colorless and dense as wet sand, the welkin above was a pitch-black void. The void looked tangible— some atramentous, gelatinous ooze she could grasp or be swallowed into. But her eyes were not on the viscous atmosphere.

The elfess's feet found purchase on the ground. She wanted nothing to do with these victims surrounding her, but she seemed gravitationally pushed to them. Steel gaze zeroed in on a singular, deformed pulp within arm's reach. A bony limb beckoned her in still silence. Sivanna knew the face.

Her lips quivered to form a word in Elvish.

"Tharaes?" Father"

An iron set of eyes snapped open, and all at once, the elfess was drawn into a murderous embrace, the limbs of the pulp mutating into talons to sink through the flesh of Sivanna's arms and waist. They held her closely, almost lovingly, as she bled into the sand beneath them. A sharp jerk, and the cleric was no longer facing the corpse, but the wilderness of death around her.

"Do you see?" A metallic voice reminiscent of steel-on-glass hissed the toxic words into her ear.

The sky was falling.

No. It was" raining" Viscous droplets of consuming shadow cascaded in a torrential downpour upon the copse of flesh in Silvanost. Screaming. There was so much screaming. The droplets formed pitch tendrils of dark energy, snaking around the limbs of her kin and rending each tree to bloody pieces.

"Stop it!" the cleric shrieked, but her words were lost in the screams.

She couldn't save them. The power was too great.

As shadow continued to devour the space about her, Sivanna writhed against her captivity. The blades shot completely through her arms, cracking each humerus in two.

"MAKE IT STOP!" she shrieked, eyes squeezed shut.

"You make it stop," the metallic voice responded icily. The elfess opened her eyes to observe quivering limbs floating in the vast pool of pitch at her feet. Why was she not with them' She looked down to find that her fingertips were aglow.

She had cast the void" Impossible. She didn't have that kind of power. Not anymore. Her eyes squeezed shut again.

Make it stop. Make it stop.

"Do you see?"

Her lids didn't open, but she knew the trees were gone. Somehow, she knew she was also still in Silvanost. It was warm. Very warm.

Too warm. Her eyes opened.

Silvanost was on fire.

Flaming wraiths of her Alchemy Company screeched in agony around her, caught up in the flames. They died— fell in heaps at the cleric's feet only to be resurrected and die again and again.

"You did this," the voice grated.

"I did this," she repeated silently.

"You did this!" the flaming wraiths screamed. Her kin began to claw at her legs, but Sivanna could not move. Repulsive and yet lissome hands tore flesh from her limbs like wet tissue paper. Her blood was kerosene— drew the fire upon her to devour her person hungrily. When she was properly lit, the wraiths began to feast on her, rending chunks of muscle and sinew from her body with blunt rows of teeth.

Sivanna could not scream, for she could not breathe. Could not breathe, for she could not scream.

She burned. Months, years she burned, watching her flesh be devoured by flame and foe and friend. For while her body was consumed, she was left with her eyes. Her eyes were black, lifeless.

A decade" A century"

"Do you see?" The voice jarred something within the elfess, and soon, she felt white— white-hot, energetic, euphoric.

"Make it stop!" she sung musically; she'd a spell in mind— something to rend them to pieces.

The sky was falling, and she ordered the shadows excitedly to tear every one of the corpses apart. She would douse the flames with their blood. She would feed her people to the darkness.

"Pai!? she cursed in Elvish, wishing death upon them. The tendrils tore them apart, spilled a sea of blood around the former general. It was so warm, so inviting. She pried herself forcibly off the talons to smell the blood, touch it, drink it.

She bathed in it. Years she bathed in it, the most maniacal, euphoric laughter escaping her airless lungs.

A chitter of a snicker penetrated her nirvana. Sivanna opened her eyes, grinning madly.

A gruesome, spectral visage hovered above her. Translucent skin stretched taut over sharp cheekbones, pits consumed eyes, and a serrated, Cheshire grin mirrored the cleric's own.

The God of Death. The Prince of Bone. Chemosh.

Sivanna Cyredghymn

Date: 2009-05-21 00:38 EST
It was empty again, but this time Sivanna was not alone.

"Do you see?" the death god repeated humorously. His voice was strangely soothing— like velvet.

"I don't care the cost," Sivanna replied breathlessly, "I need it." Her voice shook with some kind of emotion. Greed" Panic" Exultation'

The god's lips pressed into a thin smirk. "What do you need it for?"

"For me," she began unsteadily, ?" and for them."

The spectre-like visage did not flinch, but a voice behind Sivanna sounded, a few octaves higher than his.

"For them?" It was feminine, but harsh, grating— like nails on a chalkboard. The cleric looked up to see the many-headed, obsidian dragon form of the dark goddess Tahkisis, mother to Nuitari. Sivanna thought back to the night with Kita, of the helplessness and ineptitude she endured.

"I will not let it happen again," she replied confidently.

"Is it your own ambition, or a desire to save your friends?" the goddess replied sharply. Sivanna hesitated.

"I" don't know?"

"She doesn't know," Chemosh chuckled metallically.

"She doesn't know?" Tahkisis responded sardonically.

"I do," chimed a third voice. The rustling of robes gave away Nuitari's presence before his words did. The cleric's breath caught, and she was unsure if she felt relief or pure terror. Tahkisis let out a feral growl behind the slender, anthropomorphic god. Had she called him there"

"What is worth more to you, General" Your magic or your life?" Nuitari pressed evenly.

"They are one and the same," Sivanna replied without hesitation. The god of the Dark Moon seemed more than pleased by this response. "Please," she begged earnestly. "I am nothing without power!"

"You're not on Krynn any longer, General. What use could you possibly be to me?"

"Name your price."

"Name your price," Chemosh mused delightedly.

"Name your price," Tahkisis repeated in a metallic hiss. Nuitari's lips curved upward into a sadistic grin.

"You."

Sivanna frowned desperately. "You have me! You have had me, and you still took it from me!" she shrieked. Was that the whole point of all of this" Drive her to the edge of desperation and madness so that she might throw herself at Nuitari's mercy' With a nod, Chemosh and Tahkisis disappeared, leaving only the cleric and the one she served.

"I tested you," Nuitari clarified sardonically. "And you did not disappoint."

The cleric grit her teeth, angry tears filling her eyes. "That's what this was to you? A GAME!?" The god grinned in response. His head twitched upward, as though suddenly more alert.

"You will never again attempt to use wild magic," the god continued, outlining the terms of her servitude. "You will rely first and foremost on the dark artes, and following your death, your soul will reach The Gray."

Rely on the dark artes. The magic that Nuitari demanded was toxic to the body at high levels, and over long-term use, it would drive the user mad, or kill her beforehand. A wry grin indicated Sivanna's assumption; Nuitari's sadistic nature fit all to well with the terms of torture.

A short breath, and the cleric looked at him. "Done," she agreed dryly. A sardonic smirk crossed his lips, and the flat beneath Sivanna's feet fell away, consuming her in darkness. She could not help it— screamed as the emptiness threatened again. Before she could gather another ragged breath, however, she found herself sitting in the Back Alley behind the Red Dragon Inn, shivering violently and drenched in cold sweat.

"I look forward to seeing you again soon, Sivanna," Nuitari's voice chimed, so intense and penetrating the cleric looked about the alley, expecting him to be there.

It took minutes" maybe hours before the elfess lifted her hands to inspect her fingertips shakily.

"Aindrori," she ordered, and at once, a black flame ignited above those fingers; danced between her palms in a macabre ballet of greedy power.

She waited for the pain to come, but there was nothing. So minor a spell only leeched an infinitesimal amount from her reserves. Sivanna dismissed the flame and laughed once hoarsely.

With a dark smile, she rose and headed down the alley toward her home.