Through a Glass, Darkly (Delphina VS The Mysterium)

[Bologna Prime]

Before Delphina's Throne of Seasons, the scant few trainees of the Royal Guard's five-year regimen deemed to meet the standards were offered their flowers by which to kneel and take their vows, to wear the accolades of being Delphina's exemplars, the crown's own hands and blades. An elite force, so it was instructed by the Lumin King himself: To be proud they should meet the mark of membership over, yet unenvied by those who had not. An elite force, for which he spared no hesitation in informing would be put upon tasks worthy of such a lofty status and imposing standard. Their first task foreshadowed, yet just what such a task might be kept shadowed so far as the public's concern lie. Briefings and dossiers passed around to those with a need to know.

Yet so too would it be foreshadowed in a dream more auspicious than most, so solicited from a sleepless entity few would dare to try upon. Placed to where its shadow would cast most ominously, and in doing so an old terror to Meranthe had given a key to himself, and his respite far from the common sight. Few indeed, would dare to trifle with the Lord of Time who had sooner witnessed the fall of numerous Meranthean civilizations and laid low many who'd sought to deliver his own fall, before knowing the first bit of it himself. Even fewer, now, would have the slightest clue by which to find him to try.

But a dream would be the key, or so it was forewarned. The door something more inconceivable than the passing currents of the spiral in a nook so dearly desperate to be forgotten by its motion. In every looking glass, every reflective pool, every gleam of polished blades and blades, every sheen in the black mirrors made by windows peering to naught but darkness. In everything that looked back with an image of one's self... there was a looming chance that self would be usurped by the image of something else breaching through. Ever since that dream, that inkling possibility that there was no bluff, that any moment if for want of knowing when the flurry of the leaf's finest blades come dashing through fierce and swift by the cycle's own rhythm in a ruthless pursuit through halls still and timeless.

If they did.

When they do.

Just what will they be looking for, of things lost to time?

Just what will they find, to wrest free from its clutch?

Objective:

Seizure of...

A relic which may no longer exist?

A fragment prized, yet supposedly irrelevant to the eye of His Luminescence?

A retribution yearned for by countless, yet why now of all times?

Cryptic machinations, the Faeborne oft conceive. Only time to tell, what is most truly sought at the edge of eternity.

Date: TBA

[NeatherRealmer]

Upon the Throne would he sit, awaiting those that dare to tread upon the lands of Eternity. The warnings had been clear, the sentiment for not. It appeared that leaving behind the world would only lead for it searching him out, thus the ticking began as the clocks of Mysterium were counting down toward the inevitable. The whispered dreams of a cataclysmic forsaken landscape were not enough to disrupt the ambitions of those who believed in clawing at the past, they couldn't leave well enough alone.

.

The vast halls filled with Skeletons standing in orderly fashion, not even a rattle of bones could be heard as everything seemed so still, so peaceful. And yet those who dare try to steal a fragment of a dream seemed to find... What would they find? The end of a great road. The pathway toward a destiny unfulfilled? Nay, they sought Mysterium. The home of the Lich who had been dormant for so many years, merely tethered to the world by a few strings that slowly snapped away... but humanity had been warned, they couldn't leave well enough alone.

"Those who dare tread upon these grounds will find only Death. It is time we awaken, my precious creations. Aphros, Vdalion, they never seem to learn. Divines have felled, Countless Champions splayed across the foundations of the Ascent. They wish to come taking things they do not deserve. So it is Time, the end of it all."

They would come.

Yet they would not find what they were searching for.

They would find... Death.
.

Objective:

Slay the Lumin King; Purge him from Space and Time.

.

Date: TBD

They would be waiting.

[GSM]

(art credit: Star of Wonder - Brian Jekel)
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(music for ambiance)
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A world of secrets. An abyssal keep for a Lord of Time, a legion of the unfair and mortally damned. Whispers that emanate from the forbidden necropolis, a land divorced of time, of rife corruption, death and undeath, of fel influence and nightmares aplenty.
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Yet, it would be a mistake to name it as a completely forsaken place. A land that some, not none, have emerged from and understood in full. A land that was breached in silence by a once-ally, one whose rallied cries moved the potent war machine of Skarnfel's greatest.
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Meranthe had certainly changed.
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Between what looked like a greased and readied political split between the West and East of Meranthe, and the invasion apparent of an entirely different creed of demons than the purified and broken few that remained, it almost seemed as if logic and reason had failed Meranthe, no less with another fel war rapidly approaching.
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But other things had certainly changed, too.
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An unexpected missive emerges from the eventide, writ upon the continent's many doorsteps. Those considered once-enemies, those that are now allies, and those that are indifferent; one and all, the same letters are found for each of them, in their higher states.
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Yet the message is not meant for them. Nor is it meant for Xarxes, either.
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What hadn't changed, then?
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This letter is written in regard to certain circumstances.
If it is not meant for your eyes, ears, or mind, then do not worry.
This is intentional.
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In my now-many years of being given this second life, I have, for the most part, found solace in a peaceful, fully mortal experience and life.
There are only three things that would motivate me to pick up my blade and act as I am now, and as such, I have let the fervor of the living fully enrapture me.
Oh, how I have been waiting for this very moment.
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People of Meranthe, I urge upon those undecided and unknowing of their allegiances, yet still wish to fight for a greater cause.
To those of the Grand Design, to those willing to stand alongside me in my personal fight...
I would be for-ever graced by your decision.
Yet, it is a decision of your own; fight your own battles if you must.
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I will fight my own.
And though it would only be fitting that Xarxes would indeed be the target of mine ire...
... no, that is not what I am here to do.
There is a time and place for all things, but that will come later, should Camino fail here, as hard as it is to imagine.
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Instead, I would like for Meranthe to cast their gazes to Sak'noth.
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My Progenitor, the Father I never had.
When we were in such a transient dream as our irregular deaths, t'was the first time I ever heard your voice.
In the Imperfect self, I rallied and called for your very name, for your Aspect, yet I never felt moved by you.
When you were but a weapon, a Kaorblade disembodied, I remember you first as a sword, but now what lays is a scythe.
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Yet you did not truly change, did you?
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All that was left for you to change was that the body you now inhabit is ultimately a mechanical marvel.
All that imprinted for you was the change to your soul's form, mimicking another in spite of what it is you heralded and represented.
It is... almost painfully, woefully ironic, that I know this much, and have changed so drastically in consequence.
... it is almost spiteful of me to announce my intentions for the world to gorge upon.
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Hear me, each corner of the continent;
upon this eve, no matter what happens,
a ghost of the past, one borne of darkness,
shall no longer hang over the shoulders of Meranthe.

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Objective:
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Na'Ria rallies the forces of the Lumin King,
and challenges Sak'noth, to excise the Lord of Change.

[Didos]

[ Music for Ambience ]

Between the lines of the cosmos, now rested. Far away even from what was further away across the stars and realms. Yes, it was a state that one sought to remain, far from the turmoil and insignificance of the material world. To at long last, rest and forget about the failures of the past, of what was lost and not achieved.
 
Of what his kind had once conquered, and lost.
  
However, even so far away, when he finally found something more to his existence... The mortals followed, in their endless pursuit of meaning for their pathetic and finite lives. Forcing actions to be taken, in this case: demons emerged again, spawns of the Lord of Change, sent to defend that castle, while their Creator responded to the one who called upon his name.
 

"Once I had a spawn that resembled me and my brother, in power, in deeds, and ideals. Once, I was briefly proud that my spawns were useful for something, different from other demons that never managed to do much. However, just like the Empire I forged in the midst of death, destruction and change.
 

This one ceased to exist.

  
In its place, a pathetic thing appeared. A worm. A vermin. A mascot of the mortals of Meranthe. A despicable being who is not even pure any longer, not like other demons. Something that degrades our name and makes me feel ashamed for having brought it into existence.
 

Na'ria.

You don't deserve my attention, the time I would spend dealing with you.

You don’t deserve anything.

Why would such a thing as yourself be trying to guide mortals, when they were the ones you once hunted. And eliminated so many.. As if they were dust that you needed to remove from your path.

  
Perhaps. You have changed, just as expected. But not towards perfection, but towards your own perdition. You exchanged what makes us demons superior, for a semblance of humanity, to resemble these disgusting things.. While trying to avoid the proper retribution to your actions.
 

Annoying. 

 

Disgusting..

  
Pitiful.

 
You disrespect me greatly, only because you still exist. Yet it also serves to demonstrates to me how far these mortals are willing to stride, to save their own lives, turning what once hunted them, consumed so many of them... Into a weapon for their own goals. Forgetting about all that they claim they fight for.
 
Indeed.. you became..

A toy.

A thing to be used.

Before discarded.

 

It's simply regrettable that you fell so low.

 
For this reason. Don't make me waste my time with you. This one is more precious focused on my studies, to achieve the true form of our people. If you really want my attention, destroy your own blade and regain some of the dignity you once had when you were a real demon.
 
Perhaps then, I will come to watch as you soul return to helheim.
  
Or, just await your undeniable end at the hand of those from Atrellaya, or any other of my kin around who desire to eat something such as yourself. Perhaps then, you shall be useful once more. Become something other than a glorified trophy for the remnants of Aphros."

  
 

Challenge Status:

  

Refused.

The Lord of Change will not waste his time with what is not even a demon any longer.