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

[lockedon]

[ Man, this guy really looks and sounds awful, doesn't he? It's enough to bring a faint grimace to Eustace's face as he pulls back his free hand and takes a step back to give the guy some space—and to answer the question at hand.

It's a pretty paltry assortment of goods all things considered as he lays out his wares on the ground: a small chunk of bread, a few strips of jerky, and a small waterskin only half-full, which he holds out first above everything else. ]

Bread and jerky, but you're probably better off having some water first.

[ Because, no offense, he really sounds like shit. ]

[baltimores]

[ He doesn't catch the grimace, still too out of it to read anyone else, especially if it's faint. Instead, Amos' eyes drift down to what's being offered, taking a second before he reaches out for the waterskin. He really can't argue with Eustace on that front. Plus, he'll probably have the best chance at keeping water down more than anything else.

He takes a small sip, feeling the water retrace the paths of whatever had been in those vials from not too long ago. The feel of it is different — not quite refreshing, but better — but drinking something again just feels like it's compounded something in him. Like he can feel whatever's in him shift, try to make itself better at home, and he doesn't really want to argue with it.

Amos waits a minute, then takes another drink before passing the waterskin back, maybe a third full now. Not that he wouldn't take everything this guy offered him, but he's really not sure how much he can manage.

But at least he does sound better, voice quiet but no longer rough, when he says, ] Thanks.

[ He debates it before reaching out for the bread, breaking it in half. He's keenly aware of his stomach growling now, and surely this much. this much. he should be fine with. (He still feels vaguely sick. Feels like he always will. It's something he remembers from so long ago, and immersed in it now, it's hard to remember he did eventually come out of it on the other side.) But at least he's more present in the moment now, which — even considering the abysmal conditions of this cavern — is a good thing. Better here than in his own head.

Amos blinks up at Eustace as he comes further back to himself. Tries to remember if he's seen him anywhere before, but he's drawing a blank. He probably has, the way they'd all been grouped together, it's just that he's still making his way out of the fog, for better or worse. ]

Who're you?

[ It's kinda ingrained in him — remember the ones who showed you kindness. ]

[lockedon]

[ While Amos takes his time ingesting food and drink, Eustace leans back on his heels, gaze slowly traversing across the cavern as he keeps an eye (and one upright ear) on their surroundings. It's unlikely they'll be attacked here while everyone's caught in the throes of abject misery, but he's stumbled across a few restless renegades. Better safe than sorry.

He can feel his own stomach growling as he watches Amos eat but resolutely shoves his own hunger to the wayside. If there's anything left by the time the man is done, he'll finish it off. If not...well, he's suffered a few days of ignoring his hunger. Surely another day or two won't break him entirely.

His attention swings back when the man speaks again, both eyes and ears pivoting back. The implicit request for identifying information (like his name) is ignored in favor of a more important (to him) question. ]

How are you feeling?

[ Sorry Amos....sometimes a dog(man) is poorly socialized for twenty years of his life and turns out like This. ]

[baltimores]

[ Watching out for others hasn't been on Amos' mind at any point while down here. Normally, he's got pretty good self-preservation skills, but these are far from normal times. He wouldn't really mind if someone did come by and tried to finish him off.

Instead, he's gotten Eustace.

Amos finishes off the small chunk of bread he's torn off and opts to leave it at just that, sitting back and away from the rest of the food as he does so. He is starving; he also definitely can't eat anymore. That much on its own was an accomplishment.

The question earns a blink, not because of the non-answer to his own, but more because, well, shouldn't it be obvious? ]

Like shit.

[ How else is he supposed to be feeling? Blunt honesty is all he's gonna answer with. His voice is deadpanned, exhausted, this close to giving up if he could just figure out how. ]

I really can't take this.

[lockedon]

[ The corners of his lips twitch at the reply, a ghost of a smile. Fair enough; he really ought to have expected that answer, when it's the same answer he would have given in this guy's place. But from what he can see and hear, the guy seems to be doing a little better than before, skin a shade less ashen and voice gravelly but understandable.

Of course, it's nothing more than a temporary reprieve from the hell they're all suffering through but surely a small break is better than nothing at all.

Whatever bubble of good cheer he might have felt disappears entirely now, subsumed again by the utter exhaustion that's dogged at his heels the past few days. Eustace sighs, dropping into a full sit from his crouch, spine curving forward as he bows his head and closes his eyes. Obviously, he's not having the time of his life either. ]

Could always ask them to kill you.

[ Haha, very funny. Mostly it's a terrible joke because if the soldiers had wanted them dead, they would have done so already. ]

Or you could just give in.

[ He's watched a few of them leave and come back bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. There'd been no obvious link that he could see, other than the apparent acceptance of whatever's currently haunting them. ]

[baltimores]

[ Misery loves company, huh? Amos is that much more alert, that much more back in the real world, and thanks to that, that much more aware of how Eustace almost seems to mirror him. He doesn't feel for him, or anything — too busy stewing in his own personal hell — but he can at least appreciate the fact they're in the same circumstance.

He inhales deeply, as though filling his lungs with air is gonna do anything. It doesn't. He also keeps his eyes open, watching Eustance slump forward, and meets him without any emotion. ]

Already tried killing myself on the way here. They weren't having it.

[ Yeah, the joke went over his head. Fuck, he's tired. He blinks, albeit long and slow, like if he could just shut his eyes permanently that'd be the preferred outcome, but it's just... not happening. ]

Yeah. I don't know if... [ His voice trails off; he swallows thick, like something's lodged in his throat, and if he can just get it out. Or, no. That's what he's doing wrong. Amos exhales, long and slow, shutting his eyes as he does so, and it feels like a part of him just melts. Something feels marginally easier, at least.

He realizes he'd just stopped talking. ] I don't know if that'll make it stop. If I'm not just gonna wake up to the same thing again.

[ Because that's always what had happened before. Still, if you can't fight it...

Fuck, it feels like it's calling to him now. Amos opens his eyes a crack, taking in what he can of Eustace. ]

Are you gonna?

[lockedon]

[ That's a surprisingly straightforward answer, blunt enough that he can't help but lift his head to stare (still tiredly) at Amos, a flicker of surprise in his eyes as he blinks. Just because he's never considered death as an alternative doesn't mean other people haven't. He's got no room to judge what other people choose to do when he has no clue about the sorts of things they've gone through. Any crimes they've committed. What they have or haven't lost already in life.

Anger, resentment, despair envelop him once again like a shroud. By this point he's too tired to try and will them back and his ears droop down, another sign of his exhaustion.

Is he going to give in? He's thought about it a lot over the past day, weighing the pros and cons as best he can while barely managing to hold his sanity together. Right now, the pros are winning out. ]

Seems like everyone who did so far had it stop. [ Or maybe they'd all been insane to start with. ] Ended up with more supplies too.

[ Clothes, food, better treatment from their captors. Maybe even the possibility of weapons if they play their cards right. His fingers twitch in his lap, mourning the familiar weight of his gun. It's practicality speaking, first and foremost, that has him considering acceptance. Even if he doesn't necessarily agree with the thoughts running rampant inside his head, he's seen what the others had gotten after they'd been allowed to walk out of the cave.

Slowly, he lifts his head back up, gaze traveling to their companions still scattered in the cave. ]

It all depends what you're willing to lose.

[ There's little left for him to part him. Everything he'd once cherished is gone now, impossible to get back. ]

[baltimores]

[ Amos doesn't really share much of the physical indicators that Eustace has to indicate how tired he is. It's par for the course for him, really; a lack of external expression because there's so little going on internally. He kinda wonders if it'd be easier, to have some part of his body relay emotion like that. Or if it even would at all.

He takes another deep breath as Eustace speaks, but it's still far too shaky, like he's teetering on the edge of something. And when you put it that way — supplies — Amos hadn't even thought of that, the workings of his mind burying him too deep down that he hadn't even considered the practicalities of just giving up. Which is odd, because normally that would have been one of the first things he'd have considered. Physical comforts over emotional states win out every time — except when you're so overwhelmed by long-buried emotions that you forget all about it.

He glances downwards for a moment before looking back up at Eustace, eyes open that much more now. ]

I haven't had anything to lose in a long time.

[ Decades. Anything he had worth losing he'd lost decades ago. It's what's getting dredged back up to the surface now, and he feels like he'd give anything to get rid of all of it again.

Amos exhales, tucking his chin into his chest. Curling that much further in on himself. His eyes flutter closed, and when he speaks again, he isn't sure if it's to himself or to Eustace. Maybe both. ]

Kinda sounds stupid to try to fight it when you put it like that, huh.

[ There's an added relaxed degree to his words when he speaks, now that he's really entered the process of sliding into it. Accepting it. Holding out is stupid. He doesn't even know what he was holding out for.

Yeah, it's just about time, isn't it. ]

[lockedon]

[ Eustace doens't do sympathy easily, preferring to keep all others at arm's reach (or further), but something flickers to life in the depths of his heart at that tired response, a brief jolt of commiseration over a perceived shared situation. That makes two of them then, willing to give in simply because there's no better option at hand. Why fight when there's nothing to fight for?

He thinks about it again for a moment as he closes his own eyes, the possibility of simply giving in and letting the darkness consume him whole. It feels warmer and more promising the longer he stays, like gentle hands enveloping him in a familiar hug. It becomes harder and harder to pull back, a concerted effort forcefully made as he regretfully drags himself to the barren present, the full weight of exhaustion and hunger bearing down on him once again.

It truly would be better to just give in. He can't even disagree with the other man's assessment when all the facts are laid bare, even if he can spare a breath for a snippet of tired commentary. ]

People are stupid.

[ Including himself most days, he certainly isn't exempt.

He takes a deep breath and then another, falling silent for a moment as he mulls over his choices one more time. Then: ]

Have you decided?

[baltimores]

[ There's something that could almost be considered a laugh at the inherent stupidity all people share. Yeah.

He keeps his eyes closed, body loosely curled in on itself. It takes a long while before he's able to respond to Eustace, moments of consciousness growing fewer and further in between. He's aware, but at the same time, it feels like he's sinking without fully drowning. Whatever it is filling up his lungs, he can still breathe. Whatever it is taking over his insides, he wants it to consume him.

At first, he thought it had been like. Before. From decades ago. Now, it feels like he's broken through to the other side and found the inverse: welcoming, warm, home. ]

Yeah.

[ Yeah, he's decided. Amos cracks his eyes open slightly, looks at his companion through narrowed vision. He's tired, but this time it feels more like crawling into a warm bed than being battered and bruised.

His eyes shut again, and after a deep inhale, long exhale, ] See you when I see you.

[ And he goes fully under. ]