aionlogs | EVENT #1: THE EMPTY THRONE

The Empty Throne

DESCENT

Nearly two weeks after being dragged from shrine caverns, you hear along the grapevine that the "the throne room is complete." It doesn't take long to figure out what that means; the ritual grounds that you have been hearing mention of are finally prepared, and it's only a short while before you are once again being gathered together for travel. As a small mercy, at least this time the journey is short.

Through a passage that has been blocked by a gathering of soldiers for the entire length of your stay, a stairway is revealed to you. It leads deep into the ruins, through unfamiliar structures and into the bowels of the earth. Though your feel your are mostly going downward, the walk is still long on account of how many stairs their are, and the soldiers escorting you are restless. They are now being led by the stray, mask wearing Achamites that have been accompanying the group till now, silently observing. Whatever place this is, it seems that they now hold court.

Funneled into the chambers below, you are greeted by a massive, domed enclosure of stone. Positioned around its circular radius are twelve thrones in various states of disrepair, sized as if meant to seat giants. The backs of these thrones all differ slightly in design, though most have great cleaves of stone broken loose from their architecture, as if subjected to some great cataclysm. Each is engraved with a sigil, though some have been obscured by the destruction wrought. The throne closest to the entrance has been almost entirely demolished, making it impossible to glean much about.

The dome's ceiling appears to be hundreds of feet tall at its apex, its smooth surface disrupted by stalactites that puncture through its form like teeth. As a result, many chunks of the original structure seem to have cracked and collapsed in to the floor below. When examined closely, these fragments of the domed ceiling seem to be made of a material strangely reflective in quality, though caked in many years of dirt and grime. If large enough sections are cleaned, patterns may emerge, revealing designs that look almost like star maps. The floor beneath your feet as a similar, but subtly different quality, covered in wreckage and ruin but can be cleaned to reveal complex patterns of intersecting lines.

A careful eye will indicate that these lines all lead towards the center of the room - the one space that has been cleared and scrubbed prior to your arrival. Here, the lines converge, with carefully preserved marking in the stone that bely increasing levels of runic complexity the closer you look. This is where the ritual will be held, you are told.

THE RITUAL

There is not much time to regain your bearings before you are being shuffled forth towards the ritual space; no, all the waiting has already been done. Under the command of the smaller group of Achamites, the Hylicians will make heavy use of the whips in leading everyone to their places along the rune-inscribed circle. Before that, however, small cuts will be made to each prisoner with an athame, either on their hand or arm. With a sharp, burning sensation in the afflicted skin, these cuts will spread into wounds reflecting the image of one of the eleven sigils displayed on the thrones encircling the group, and matching the shrine they were originally pulled from.

With this accomplished, they can finally be taken into the circle. With a design comprised of four triangles overlapping, the design of an open eye carved at its center, all prisoners will be led to separates points on its design where the lines cross. Seemingly arranged by their shrine sigil to be closest to whatever throne represents them, they will be brought to their designated positions one by one. Any attempts to flee or disrupt the process will be dealt with swiftly and harshly, exacerbated by the increasing levels of paranoia and fear in the soldiers themselves. Whatever is being done here, they don't seem happy to involved with it either.

When everyone is in place, the seeming master of ceremonies will finally emerge. A dark haired woman will appear from the shadows, motes of golden light fluttering about her otherwise darkness-clad visage. Moving towards the center of the circle, she will stand over the marking of the eye and begin working her magicks. As if on cue, the soldiers will withdraw any remaining whips and scurry to the outside of the circle, only for new bonds of ethereal energy to lash out of the ritual circle itself, binding each and every prisoner and dragging them down to their knees. Among the soldiers, you can hear mutterings identifying this woman as "the Aion."

"Come," she says to the coterie of robed Achamites, who will approach the circle with an assortment of vials collected into cases. There is enough for each prisoner to be given a drink, and so they will; a vial of abyssal liquid will be forced into each one of your throats, no matter how uncomfortably it must be done. While no less ruthless, the Achamites have a different way about them as they work, forcing themselves upon you with a strange familiarity that feels more akin to a mother forcing their child to take medicine than the suspicious hostility of the soldiers. As the foul liquid touches your tongue, it takes on a consistency almost like a living thing, crawling down your throat even if you refuse to swallow, all while the Achamites stroke your hair and make saccharine assurances.

Once all the prisoners have been fed their vial, the Achamamites too will retreat from the circle - all except for one. Joining 'the Aion' at the center, the two of them will begin enacting a planned ceremony of sorts, that culminates in the following scene:

The Achamite kneels before the Aion, lifting their masked face to meet their dark gaze. They speak, in practiced tones.

"To the Kenoma my body, to the Kenoma my soul."

In response, the Aion holds the Achamite's face between their hands in almost a loving gesture. She speaks softly:

"By the blood of the Martyr, I accept your sacrifice."

From the Aion's hands a darkness spreads across the Achamite's body, as if they are melting and dissolving on a cellular level. She kneels along with them, cradling them as their body breaks down, pooling in a void-black liquid around their knees. It drains into the lines of the ritual circle, surging out towards the prisoners.

Within moments, the ritual is complete.

KENOMA SICKNESS

As this dark power surges throughout the ritual circle, you will find yourself almost consumed by the tide. Whatever foul creation you were forced to swallow wakes within your chest, and you can feel it move within your veins, inside you lungs, behind your eyes. As quickly as it begins, the flood of darkness washes over you, but not without leaving you stained.

Something has changed in its wake. As you return to your senses, you will notice the magical bonds of the circle have fallen away, leaving you free to move; for once, the soldiers will not move to lead or restrain you. Instead, the Hylicians warily back away from the ritual space, retreating towards the only path upwards, where they form a defensive line. The Achamites that linger make a series of ritual gestures, praying in voices too soft to hear. The Aion woman stands in the center, her hands blackened with residue from the person you just watched fall to pieces in her arms.

"You will be given time to find your truth," she says. "Use it well."

As you recover from the experience enough to stand, she and her Achamite entourage are already retreating to join the Hylician guard. Gradually, your situation will become clear: they intend to keep your trapped down here. However, it will not be the same as when you waited before. Instead, the soldiers simply intend to block your only exit out, and otherwise leave you free to roam the full diameter of the throne room, seemingly free to do whatever you want as long as it isn't trying to break free of the cavern's confines. Each day, they will offer to their prisoners a limit supply of food, water, and firewood, but nothing more. Beyond that, you only have your increasingly dirty white robes and the same bedrolls as before.

❖ COMMUNION
The first change you will experience is an itching darkness in your mind, like a psychic wound that is becoming infected. The sort of thoughts you would normally try to force down become increasingly hard to resist; despair, hatred, and fear will plague you, and requiring great feats of will to silence even temporarily. Phantoms of the things you'd rather forget will become a constant companion, all while a presence seems to whisper: when you accept your fate, the pain will stop.

Worse than this, the darkness of your mind may not remain private. As if awakened by the ritual, your empathetic sense has become impossibly strong, to the point that you feel the broadcasted emotions and thoughts of others, and in turn, your darkest thoughts will be psychically projected to others with a volume proportional to the intensity with which you feel them. This effect is most potent between those sharing Legacy, with the capacity for their identities to become momentarily confused. In all cases, this connection may bleed into your dreams, or manifest as hallucinations.

❖ TRANSFORMATION
Yet, your mind is not the only thing that ails. In proportion to the strength of your emotions, your body may begin changing to match your state of mind. Physical transformations akin to those mentioned here will begin to manifest, themed to your inner suffering and the most negative aspects of your self conception. These alterations may shift from moment to moment, depending on the turbulence of your emotional state. They may or may not be painful.

❖ AFFLICTION
Along with the above effects, characters may also experience various more mundane ailments; essentially anything traditionally associated with illness could fit. Weakness, nausea, body aches, and chills are all common options. Along with this, void-black ooze may start to trickle from virtually any orifice. While it may stain clothing and skin, the material itself will dissipate after a few minutes in a manner reminiscent of ectoplasm. This effect may also appear around your Shard, as if the stone itself has begun to bleed.

RESISTANCE

Even as the Kenoma threatens to overwhelm you, you still have the power to fight. Though it may be a grueling war of attrition, you can force back its advances with sufficient will to survive and resist the darkness. Of course, your captors are not going to make this easy for you. Those that fight hard enough to expel the Kenoma from their bodies and spirits will take at least a week to do so, and for that duration they will be trapped within this chilly cavern, haunted by their worst thoughts and emotions.

The bedrolls barely strand up against the cold, your clothing doesn't at all, and to be comfortable you'll require fire. Yet, there is a limited amount provided to you, along with food and water, and the soldiers do not seem to be making any effort to distribute it evenly. Achieving basic warmth and sustenance may become a battle against your fellow inmates, all while you struggle against the enemy infecting your body. Cracks in the dome of the cavern lead into some smaller caverns and crevasses in the stone that can offer some privacy or protection, but the more splintered the group becomes the less the supplies will hold up. Fortunately for you, neither the cold nor starvation will kill you, but it will make you suffer.

Yet, you may still persevere. As you fight back the Kenoma, something else will be cultivated in its place. Bit by bit, a comforting and warm presence will grow within you, gradually disrupting the maladies afflicting your body and mind. Your faith and perseverance has been rewarded with an attunement to the Pleroma, the Kenoma's cosmological opposite; given enough time, the Kenoma will be forced from your being entirely, in the form of void-black sludge. Only then will your power begin to shine through, the abilities of your past life slowly returning.

You must keep your guard. With or without otherworldly power, escape will be a struggle.

ACCEPTANCE

Or, you may choose the easy option. Maybe the Kenoma resonates with your history and emotions in a way that makes it seem like it isn't the enemy. Maybe the depths of your despair are too deep to escape. Maybe your simply lack the strength to fight. Whatever the reason, sooner or later, the Kenoma claims you. The more you let it in, the less it feels like a poison and the more it feels like strength. The darkness settles comfortably into the cracks and holes of your spirit, and you awaken to its power. You feel the change viscerally.

This world is not good enough, a voice seems to speak through the Kenoma. This suffering you feel, the cruelty that has birthed this darkness in you... it is simply the rot that is consuming this existence. A better universe awaits, one forged by your own hand, and all you need do is first bring about this broken reality's end.

Whatever effects you were suffering from the Kenoma's presence will fade away, and in its place, you will feel your endurance bolstered. The clarity is stark in comparison to the mire you were trapped in before. As the other prisoners suffer around you, the Aion woman from before and an accompaniment of a couple Hylician soldiers will approach you among the ruins, as if summoned straight to your location. She looks you over, her dark eyes impassive, and then asks:

"Did you feel it?"

She doesn't actually wait for an answer, your expression alone enough to assure her. She'll tell the soldiers that you are free to go, and that you are to be given a share of their food and a change of clothes. She'll escort you out of cavern and towards the upper ruins, where the soldiers and Achamites have set up camp. This feels natural to you, somehow, like you and her are on the same wavelength in a way that is hard to comprehend. She is like you, you sense. That dark power is within her as well.

She doesn't linger with you for long, but she will see that you are on your way before heading back to the caverns. She'll say that the voice you heard, that promise, was the Regent, the ruler of this land. They spoke of a power that could birth a new, better universe, and they weren't misleading you. It's within their reach, closer than ever, and if you help them achieve it you will be rewarded lavishly. For now, you are free to regain your strength while the others make their choices. She only asks that you stay in the area and be ready to join the Regent in Achamoth when all is prepared.

If you're prone to boredom, though, she will mention that you'd really be doing the prisoners a favor by convincing them to accept the Kenoma like you did. You could convince them with words, or by making their situations so unbearable they won't have a choice but to break. However you'd like. It won't be worse than what's coming for them if they carry on this way.

When she parts ways with you, you are left to your own devices. Somehow, you feel inclined to cooperate. After all, the Regent did have a point.

QUESTIONS

Are the involuntary transformations during the Kenoma sickness period temporary afflictions or permanent ones?
By default they are temporary, but characters can also keep a couple keepsake changes if you'd like! An Aion's physical appearance is something that is generally in flux, and so even if you keep something from this event, you can always alter it later.

What kind of supplies are going to be distributed to those who accept Kenoma and leave the caverns?
They'll be given food, water, and clothing. They'll be given more/better rations than they were as prisoners, but it's still the sort of food that is limited by the fact that they are out here on a mission. The soldiers will have some fresh meat from prey they've been hunting in the forest, and will generally be having a lot of stew-based food going. There are actual spices in it, though, so that's cool. This is all set up where the Hylicians are camping.

As for clothes, they will get a fresh set (including boots or shoes) and some soap to clean themselves up in the nearby creeks and ponds. Hylici has an aesthetic that leans towards ancient Greek/Roman, so while they won't have anything fancy with them, you are free to assume they are able to acquire anything in that general ballpark. They do also have pants, though. While it is now spring and Horos has a generally temperate climate, it can be chilly at night.

Will Pleroma attuned be able to escape once they've regained their powers?
Yes, they will be allowed to escape at that point, and a second log will be going up to cover that part of the event. This log should generally cover up until shortly after Pleroma start ejecting the Kenoma's influence. Characters are permitted to escape by their own power if they somehow devise a plan to do so, but as we know the Pleromas are at a significant disadvantage in this situation, some characters who have fought against the Kenoma particularly valiantly will be given some magical assistance to help the survivors escape.

Will the Kenomas be able to try to stop them?
Yes! The second log will be set up to contain some PVP, though given the Pleromas do need to escape, we ask that you play nice. There will be a battle, but it will be structured in the context of the Pleromas having to hold off the Kenomas long enough to escape, so it will be relatively brief.

Can we speak to "the Aion"?
Yes, she will be around for the full length of the event. All characters will have the chance to find her watching over the group whether they are Kenomas or soon to be Pleromas. She will not be that talkative, though, so anyone tagging her will have to lead the conversation. She will not make small talk. Martyrs will recognize her as one of them.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ It's not like he's unused to people fighting back -- as much as Gen's accustomed to using his family's name for clout, he's taken his fair share of punches over years of fistfights and scraps. But even so, the sheer efficiency to Eustace's retaliation catches him completely off-guard.

The blow to the chest is enough to knock the air from him; Gen stumbles back one, two steps before hitting the ground with a graceless noise. It's only his good reflexes, bolstered by the adrenaline rush of anger, that let him react quickly -- even breathless and startled, he promptly tries to twist around to scrabble back to his feet, and actually gets halfway there before Eustace stops him.

Caught awkwardly on his side, one arm pinned under Eustace's grip and the other unable to do much more than claw at the dirt, Gen spends exactly one moment seething in silence. Then, almost before Eustace has even finished giving him that warning, snarls and tries to yank himself free. ]

I'm not scared of you!

[ It's not that he doubts Eustace will fulfill that threat. It's just that, in this moment, he really can't bring himself to care. ]

[ They're fire and ice, the fury that radiates off Gen's frantic movements at complete odds with Eustace's own practiced stillness.

He can tell two weeks of little exercise - in tandem with whatever sickness is pulsing through his body - has made him less limber than usual, breath already growing heavier in his chest as he fights to keep the boy pinned down. But his voice remains even, unchanging from its usual cold tone. ]

I don't care.

[ Whether this kid lives or dies or gets his nose split in two by one of the guards is none of his business (though he wouldn't wish death upon anyone here if push came to shove, no matter how annoying they might be). And, truthfully, he doesn't consider himself all that terrifying. There are worse things in the world than a man with animal ears on top of his head and a growing headache at the back of his skull. ]

But stop wasting your energy on pointless fights. Unless you plan on dying here.

[ Seems like a waste personally, but who is he to dictate how other people choose to live their lives? ]

[ Fire and ice truly is an apt comparison. Or maybe even fire and oil -- because Gen certainly reacts poorly to Eustace's chilly response, his temper flaring hotter in the face of that quiet deadpan. His answer is prompt and vicious, each word spat out sharp and acerbic, accompanied by the sickly wet edge of that black sludge rising at the back of his throat. ]

You think I'd be cowed by that?!

[ Typical teenage bluster, it sounds like. Except with those strange effects of the ritual still going strong, maybe Eustace can sense the discomforting conviction in those furious words. They're kneejerk and brash, certainly, but those qualities aren't mutually exclusive with being truthful. Gen really means it when he snarls, ]

-- I'd rather die than just take this shit any longer!

[ But as much as Gen means what he says, that isn't such an easy thing to put into action. And for all his furious thrashing and struggling, he's just a teenager without any training -- he's long since neared the limits of his endurance, and when he stupidly yanks against Eustace's grip in a way that sends a vicious bolt of pain ratcheting up his arm, it's enough to give him pause.

His struggles come to a screeching halt as Gen doubles over against the ground, still seething and huffing furiously, but clearly trying to stifle a pained grunt between ragged breaths. ]

[ If nothing else, Eustace can respect the tenacity that drives this boy. But it's not enough, either to convince Eustace to carry through on his (begrudging) threat or that this kid actually wants to (or deserves to) die. ]

Pick something better to waste your life on, if you really want to die.

[ He's not in any mood to dish out a bout of violence today, not over something as minor as a few blustery words, and especially not to some kid with a personality too big for his skin.

So he lets go and gets up, unfolding himself with a grimace as his body reminds him of all the aches and pains its been storing for the past several days. The kid he leaves lying on the ground still nursing his wounded pride (and throbbing wrist) as he walks slowly back to his spot on the ground. Which should be the end of it, except that instead of sitting back down and tuning out the world, he picks up something instead and tosses it over.

It's a small waterskin, still partially full. Along with it comes some (unwanted) advice. ]

Keep your wrist still for awhile.

[ Don't think he hasn't noticed that little grimace of pain there, bud. ]

[ To be honest, he barely even hears Eustace's retort past the sound of his own blood rushing through his veins, the pounding of his pulse in his ears as he struggles to swallow back the pain in his wrist. Of course, he seethes and glares when Eustace gets off him, but it's more reflex than anything else.

More than the fact that he'd been physically bested, what really pisses him off is the fact that Eustace doesn't take him seriously at all.

To his meager credit, in the few moments that it takes Eustace to walk back to his original spot, Gen's already forced himself back into sitting position. Bristling and feigning strong the moment Eustace looks back at him, even as he automatically cradles his sprained wrist closer to himself, breathing in ragged huffs.

And when that waterskin's tossed his way ... ]

-- I don't need your pity!

[ Is it surprising at all that he immediately snatches it up from the ground to hurl right back Eustace's way? He'd meant to aim it for that insufferable, smug, impassive face, but it turns out aiming accurately is hard when your arm's still half-numb with tingling pain, and it ends up careening towards his torso, instead. ]

[ They're both lagging these days, reflexes slowed by a lack of food and rest. The waterskin lands a direct hit onto Eustace's torso before dropping back to the ground with a soft thud. It's a small act of rebellion that barely provokes a response; Eustace stills for a brief moment, one ear twitching in annoyance at the disruption, before continuing on his way, choosing instead to take a seat right where he was before, back leaning against stone despite its chill.

Even if he feels for the kid - though that brief burst of sympathy is fading with alacrity - it's not his job to babysit anyone here. Better to disengage now and conserve his energy for the battles that really matter. ]

Suit yourself then.

[ Go find someone else to harass, Gen. ]

[ The waterskin does hit its target, but it's somehow less satisfying than he'd hoped. Probably because Eustace reacts about as much as a boulder would.

It's probably for the best that whatever sympathy Eustace felt is quick to fade, both because Gen doesn't really deserve it, and because he'd be getting mad all over again if he caught even the slightest whiff of it.

As is, he settles for quietly fuming in Eustace's general direction for only a moment longer before arduously dragging himself to his feet; he doesn't look back as he slinks off to lick his wounds and recover for now.

It won't be that long before he returns to have another go at the guards. Hopefully by the Eustace has found someplace quieter to be, as well as someone more deserving of that water. ]

EVENT #1: THE EMPTY THRONE

fulfilling his one heroic duty of giving eustace an excuse to be sexy and cool 😳

FOR PUNCHING HIM IN THE FACE!!!

NO he deserves zero praise for committing that heinous crime!!!

i will praise him with my dying breath u_u

how dare he blemish eustace's pretty face, his only redeeming factor!!! (jk ilu eustace)

no you're right and you should say it

how dare you, he also has his erotic exposed back