EVENT #1: THE EMPTY THRONE

[aionmods]

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.

Comments

[coerthantorment]

[Estinien doesn't need this right now, he doesn't need it on top of everything else he's dealing with, but in this moment the sickness is too much for him to just get up and leave. This is one of the men that had come from the same shrine as him, and that familiarity is enough to make it so he'd rather not be seen so weak. Not after how hard he's fought.

He hates the idea that it could all be for nothing. All he'd done here, and all he did before. His body shivers, his heart aching for the world he might have lost forever. His pain trickles out of him, filling the air between them with his emotions.

It can't be for nothing. It can't.]

There... is nothing natural about this. Nothing...

[Nothing natural about a world gone in an instant, or in prisoners forced to drink of something so foul.]

I will not forsake them. I-I will not forsake myself.

[affal]

( that's makoto in a nutshell! (: people need him around like they need a hole in the head!

makoto never thinks that anything is for nothing. it can't be, not when each and every living creature is a living testament to the events and outcomes of their lives — they are each and all stone tablets inscribed with their victories and their failures, their growth and their flaws, cracked and cobbled, broken and whole. he has no thoughts for the worlds that he's left behind — perhaps the vision that they had all received upon arriving here had been false and they yet spin on, but perhaps they are all dust at the end of the universe. what does that matter when they, the scions of what all they left behind, are still here? what does it matter if anything and everything could still lie ahead? )

Everything that is made is meant to one day be undone.

( that's the only undying natural law in their universe and beyond — entropy and how it expands in creation and contracts in annihilation, and they are all just motes of dust spinning on its errant air currents, unseen.

in a way, makoto can't speak the language that estinien does now. the only creature who had ever accepted him for everything that he was was the object of his undying vengeance, the fixation of his torrent of anger. he has to change his angle at it, remaining on a tack he has some comprehension for. ) Nothing you do now will change what has already come to pass. Clinging to the past as you do now will blind you to the future — who would want something like that for you?

[coerthantorment]

[Estinien scoffs at that sentiment... maybe at some point that would have been novel to him, but not now. Not after what he and the other Scions stared down in Ultima Thule. He knows that eventually, an end will come to all things, but that doesn't mean it has to be today. Or tomorrow. Or the day after that.

Whether or not it is, is ultimately up to them.

Something about that thought cause him to straighten his back in defiance, pushing past his weakness and pain to put on another display of resistance.]

Nay... till I see for myself... till I know for certain. I will not leave them behind.

[Still, his gut turns with sorrow, a feeling intense enough to swallow his breath.]

Just... Just as they would not leave me.

[affal]

( makoto feels assurance in that the worlds they left behind had been reduced to the cosmic ash that the first vision had promised them... but perhaps he only believes that because he didn't care either way if that was true. to reframe it for himself, to understand how doggedly this stranger clung to the concept of hope, he only has to think of his own convictions that J is still alive. if the demon was similarly gone, scattered into unknowing atoms along the outskirts of the universe, well... his own reason to keep living was scattered just as well.

for such a markedly different creature, wretched demon that he is, he is trying to understand, if not to find a better angle for his argument.

he lowers his hands from the elezen's face, steepling them with the pads of his fingers pressed together right beneath his chin. )

What a staunch ally your companions have in you.

( he says it with neither praise nor condemnation. instead, it's more like a puzzling curiosity. there is little to no camaraderie among demons in hell. )

You could languish here and wait for those who might never come, yes. And if that's your choice, I will not stop you. But you could accept what it is that's offered to you and stride forward, and you could try to find them. You could try to forge a world that would deliver them to you.

[coerthantorment]

[As unpleasant as Estinien finds this, he can't help but be drawn in by Makoto's last assertions. What offer is there here, exactly? Subservience to whatever malevolent force has been set upon them? Perhaps Makoto has a clearer idea of what is intended, now that he's surrendered to its will.]

Is that what it's offering? [He sounds a bit incredulous.] The forging of a new world?

[Striding forward into what, exactly?]

[affal]

Yes.

( he feels like it shouldn't be a secret. he also thinks that the Kenoma really should have led with that, as it gave much more powerful incentive than the overwhelming threat of submission did. but this wasn't necessarily the whispers of the Kenoma itself, but the promises of the Regent — a distinction that might be a little more tenuous for many, but makoto felt he needed to see the measure of this "Regent" for himself before he made a decision either way.

which won't happen immediately, but he is far more comfortable now than he had been cringing on the floor of this cave. )

Surely the world you come from has its fair share of problems. ( "heroes" didn't seem to crop up, if that wasn't the case. ) The opportunity for its reforming with the intelligent design necessary to remove or alleviate those problems — that's what's being offered.

( you just have to accept that this chapter of reality must first end before the second one could be started. )

[coerthantorment]

[Estinien has been so dead set on refusing that he hasn't even remotely humored any of the intentions he may feel from the thing inside of him. Reforming the world, though... that part surprises him. Though it's not a concept he's entirely unfamiliar with.]

...It's impossible. [He shakes his head, averting his eyes.] There is no world free from suffering. Whatever... alterations you make will not change that.

[People are people, this much he understands. It is without condemnation that he believes that thinking beings will find trouble no matter what path they take.]

[affal]

Ah, to give up before even truly trying.

( the incentive of a new world remade in a more perfect image of their imagining isn't really all that ingratiating to makoto either, but in his case it's more that he simply doesn't care. he would have hoped that someone more virtuous who actually had any lasting affection for the world they originated from might be more tempted, but... it does ring a bit false, doesn't it? were people truly so idealistic to fall for such a thing? he himself had taken markedly different convincing. )

You could be right... or you could be wrong. And if you are, you would forswear your chance to have your hand in it. ( they might end up finding out themselves. but that probably wouldn't be for some time, if his gut instinct is anything to go by. completely uprooting the flow of an entire universe seems like a tall order. but based on what he's seen so far... who's to say? )

What other change could you hope to make in this place, as you are now?

[coerthantorment]

[Estinien still refuses to look Makoto in the eye, concealing the flinch of frustration and pain he gives at that question. As he is now, he can accomplish little. He understands that. To turn down this choice is to turn down making any difference at all. In fact, it may be choosing death.

And yet...]

I have seen the suffering caused by men who thought the world was something better remade in their image. I would sooner perish than join the ranks of madmen. 'Tis no individual's right to end so many lives.

[affal]

( well, it's an experience that makoto hasn't shared — this is his first time running into such a thing, as demons were content to fulfill their purpose and luxuriate in comfortable lifestyles. such lofty convictions and ideals weren't really inherent in their type, or at least the types of demons he was familiar with.

so he'll give that to estinien. it's not as though makoto doesn't appreciate someone drawing lines in the sand as to what their principles will and won't allow; it's just that he's a little more willing to bend the rules, if he can find enough reason to believe it could benefit him. )

Some could argue that they're already ended. ( his tone is flippant, and he makes a sweeping gesture with one hand to accent it. but then he reins it in, becoming a little more diplomatic. ) But all that's given to us are promises and impressions. I'd agree that there's no way to know for certain. Only that different paths lead to different opportunities.

( a brief pause. )

Could I trouble you for your name? ( even among those so diametrically opposed, a demon would prefer to collect them. )

[coerthantorment]

[Estinien grits his teeth... already ended. Maybe so. He doesn't like having that aspect rubbed in his face, but he can't easily deny it, either. He is running on faith alone, which is not how he usually likes to operate. Yet, it's come through for him before...]

Estinien Wyrmblood.

[He says it almost in challenge, straightening his back as if to enforce upon Makoto that his pride still remains.]

[affal]

( that's what it all comes down to here, doesn't it? how one responds to perhaps the worst news that they could possibly fathom and is tempted to accept it, either in defeat or in a roundabout hope to somehow restore it. to deny that the destruction hadn't happened had never occurred to makoto personally — he doesn't trust anyone or anything but his own senses, and he had felt it. but who knows? the senses can be fooled, especially by forces beyond their ken. in the end it will hinge on what the truth is, and it will only take time for them to reach it.

in the meantime, though, he would prefer be comfortable and not wracked with emotional torment.

for the tiniest amount of credit that one can give a demon like makoto, he regards the warrior appraisingly and with a somber sort of weight. he can see that he makes his stand with who he is and how he shoulders that selfsame burden. he won't besmirch such honesty, especially since he knows more than most how it important it feels to stake upon that sense of self when it's all you have left. )

Estinien Wyrmblood. ( where makoto is from, demons understand the inherent power in a name. he handles it accordingly, though he can't help but the slightest upturn of a smile, one hand raised to run the tip of a forefinger along one of the curving horns. ) You might be taking that a little too literally.

( sorry. he just had to get one minor snipe in. he continues with more gravity. )

Maybe you will be right in the end. We will just have to see. ( makoto is not a demon to fight losing battles (or at least those he can't delude himself into thinking are winnable). he stands in a single smooth motion, his faint smile persisting. ) I just hope that by the time that comes about, you will still be able to stand so tall. ( he's found that hope can be a buoying force in its initialization, but it tends to get heavier as time passes. )