Open Chronicles Foundations of Madness[Red Pact]

[Carmelea Nosfir]

Spoiler: Music

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E D A E N E A​

For weeks the supernatural societies of Arethil had been receiving mysterious letters, invitations to visit a gathering that would determine the future of their kind. Vampires, liches, necromancers and other such monsters, The Red Pact had invested a great deal of resources into establishing communication and directing them to these ruins which towered over the southern steppes.

Some were lured by promises of a nation for the undead and the outcast, others had already done business with the red cult or sought such partnerships now.

They came by horse, foot or sea, and were guided by priestesses swaddled in red muslin into the ruins, carrying magical trinkets lest their guests be attacked by the walking bones and wraiths who'd stalked these lands for as long as anyone could remember.

The inside was little better; cold stone split apart by overgrowth till holes filled walls and ceilings collapsed long before the wood had rotted away without a trace. The throne room though, even if that ancient seat had crumbled, had been made almost hospitable. Food had been prepared for their guests from all corners of Arethil, goblets of blood and wine both stood ready in the middle of a large, circular table arranged centrally to the chamber surrounded by brazers and torchlight.

Carmelea Nosfir stood patiently, watching the guests trickle in to the sound of murmured gossip.

"A demon from pandemonium" some claimed, "vampire royalty" others cried and even still "an upstart cult" a few claimed as to the pact's origins.

The striga heard it all.

"And what news of the steppe elves?" she drawled quietly to one of her red-armored guards who now infested the ruin.

"An odd scout or two, but nothing hostile of yet, my elder."

"Mm." she tapped her claws pensively.

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Spoiler: OOC notes:

Hello everyone! though this is an open chronicle we are focused on a vampires, necromancers and monsters. You are welcome to spy on us but please remember this is a social thread, not a pvp arena, and your character will need an invitation and escort to avoid the roaming undead.

If you were already interested in The Red Pact then feel free to sit among the existing members or join in character.

Guests are welcome to spectate or join in discussing the future of a monster kingdom in the making <3

 

[Zora]

The murmur of gathered monsters dimmed.

A thin ribbon of pale smoke slipped first through the broken archway, curling low against the stone like something cautious, alive. The scent followed: olibanum, sharp and sacred, out of place among blood and decay.

Then she stepped through.

Zora walked alone.

In her hands she carried a small iron brazier suspended by chains, its coals glowing faintly beneath crumbling resin. Smoke poured from it in slow, deliberate streams, coiling around her shoulders and hood, obscuring and revealing her by turns.

“Per nomina IAH et VAU, quae primus homo audivit et locutus est… per AGLA, quod servavit Lot… per IOTH, quod liberavit Jacob… per Alpha et Omega, quod destruxit draconem… et per Emmanuel, quod servavit fideles in medio ignis… protege me.”

Her voice was low, steady, as she talked, shapes stirred within the smoke

Not fully formed. Never fully present. Faces without features, limbs without flesh, silhouettes that lingered for less than a breath before dissolving back into nothing. They did not surround her. They emerged from her. Watching. Guarding. Then gone.

Her boots touched the ancient stone, her posture straight, her gaze forward. The assembly parted subtly—not out of respect, but instinct.

She stopped within the torchlight.

The brazier swayed once, chains whispering softly.

Her pale eyes found Carmelea across the chamber.

“I came” she said simply.

 

[Archanae]

Archanae's cinnamon eyes tracked the young girl's entrance. She gathered her sand-coloured shawls about her, as if the girl's incantation might snatch them away. The whole derelict castle held a veneer of hospitality, thinly veiling the inhuman menace currently gathered inside its broken ribcage of stone. She had studied many of her fellow guests and found them wanting. Mere beasts, soul-bound bones or thaumaturges who sought personal gain through dark magic.

But the aura about this deceptively young-looking girl was unmistakable. It read of untapped secrets and layered depths, a tantalising mystery that acted with veneration towards some obscure creed.

Archanae's bare feet shifted across ancient stone. Her minion, Scrael, crawled after her, a homunculus of stone, bone and braided hair, a grand citrin the size of a fist lodged in its chest, moving like a heavy ape with its knuckles against the floor. She tapped the sapphire in her central medallion, and it winked blue with ethereal light; a light that soon consumed her eyes, as she sought to pierce the veil and discover what hidden properties and invisible strains of magic might surround this pale girl. A limited detection spell, naturally, nothing major; but it might be a start.

Carmelea Nosfir
Zora

 

[Zora]

She tapped the sapphire in her central medallion, and it winked blue with ethereal light; a light that soon consumed her eyes, as she sought to pierce the veil and discover what hidden properties and invisible strains of magic might surround this pale girl. A limited detection spell, naturally, nothing major; but it might be a start

Spoiler: The results of your spell

As you cast the spell you see that the forms in the smoke are some kind of spirits or entities. And you can realize that their nature is not from this plane of existence (they are not spirits of deceased mortals)

If you are versed in dark magic and necromancy, you can realize that the names she invokes on her chant are used as cabalistic power words in forgotten rituals, but any scholarly text either says that it’s origins have been lost, cannot be traced or has been always assumed the practitioner knew it’s meaning

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Zora looks at you

Archanae

 

[Archanae]

A long nail tapped her own chin, pondering upon what she had seen, catching eye-contact with the girl. The spirit of curiosity itself seemed to briefly illuminate from Archanae's arcane eyes, before they faded back to their natural hue.

"Fascinating," she muttered to herself in Narra. She drew a few odd glances, but none here came from a Nazrani heritage, and so they weren't likely to understand her.

Carmelea Nosfir
Zora

 

[Carmelea Nosfir]

"Lady Zora," purred the vampire.

"Yes, as I knew you would. I've reserved a chair."

Red claws flicked in the direction of that round table, where it seemed a few seats were empty and under guard by pale soldiers. Ghūls, neither dead nor at peace with the living, but quite loyal.

"Captain Mirya will show you to your seat and I will join you shortly, unless you prefer to gossip awhile?"

When Zora turned she followed her gaze to Archanae's, assessing her with the clinical precision of a gryphon choosing which bison to snatch from the herd. No matter, she thought, she would have her fill tonight, incomparable to mage's blood though it were.

Instead she offered a wry little smile to the witch and leaned to murmur at Zora.

"Friend of yours?"

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Zora | Archanae | OPEN​

 

[Archanae]

Archanae noticed the shared looks from both Zora and Carmelea. For a moment, she looked back, human eye meeting a vampiric gaze. Then, she moved through the dark crowd, some parting to allow the fixated enchantress access to her own doom. Her stride was deliberately and painfully slow; slow in the manner of one approaching a tigress, never flicking the eye away, lest predator might deem one prey. But her eyes held no hostility, merely stoic inquiry and rapt attention, lips parted and relaxed, as she might be studying a rare vein of glittering ore. She had met with ancient creatures of vastly superior power before; this near reminded her of a certain encounter she had had in a crypt with the Herald of Halch. She was beginning to learn how to perform this dance.

Zora
Carmelea Nosfir

 

[Lazarus Jeager]

The list of those who had made their way to this ancient place was as varied as the grains of sand that comprise the shores of the secluded place they all seemed to gather in. While many an entity in this room held a regal and powerful air about themselves, there would be one who seemed to make themselves smaller by comparison.

Small dull tapping across the stonework, occasionally tapping dirt or roots from the overgrowth, would exist as though to dot the line of the path this unassuming individual took. A noise that was drowned out by the chattering and commotion of stronger beings around him, Lazarus chose to let more important people take the spotlight, still recovering from his last expedition. A slender cane made from the bone of some animal, carved perhaps from a tusk or long canine would held him hold his weight up as he crept past the groups of vampire's, mages, and various guards. Choosing a particularly strong column, one not destroyed by foliage or weathered as badly by time, the necromancer would rest his shoulder against it and exhale a shaky breathe, unsure if it was the fatigue of his still healing wounds or being in the presence of so many who could kill him at a moments notice.

A simple black robe adorned his frame, open in the front to reveal a myriad of bandages across his chest, from collarbone down to his navel, a pair of black leather pants masking the edges of the wrappings. Ebony locks that would normally be left down to flow over his shoulders would be tied back in a simple bun, held in place with a simple bit of sinew and leather that had been worked into a band.

Amber orbs would sweep across the room slowly, scanning for familiar faces, every so often he would stop to examine a person here and there to see if they were an acquaintance or not. Eventually those eyes would find their way up to the person who had arranged this gathering, though they would not linger long, looking to Carmelea for but a moment before turning his attention to the one she was speaking with. Lazarus would be more than content to stand by the pillar all evening if allowed, though given the atmosphere he got the impression that before long he might become a member of one or more conversations.

 

[Zora]

Zora did not immediately follow the gesture.

Her eyes lingered a moment longer on the assembled figures—the dead that walked, the living that had abandoned the sun, and those who existed uneasily between both states. Then she looked back to Carmelea, catching the murmur meant for her.

“Friend?” Zora repeated quietly.

“I do not have many friends,” she said. “Brockern did not encourage such indulgences.”

Her gaze drifted briefly toward the dark-skinned sorceress, studying her with equal precision, and the other strange newcomer.

“But the night is long,” she added. “That may yet change.”

She turned then. The ghūls parted without needing instruction, their pale, obedient forms standing sentinel beside an empty chair clearly reserved for her. Zora set the brazier down on the table. Its smoke continued to rise.

She sat.

A servant lingered nearby—one of the living, judging by the warmth in his breath and the tension in his shoulders. She did not look directly at him when she spoke.

“Water.” Nothing more. No please. No gesture.

He hurried to obey.

Only then did she turn her head toward the sorceress who had watched her so intently. Up close, Zora could see the hunger there—not for flesh, but for knowledge.

“You observed the smoke,” Zora said calmly. “I use it to cross places others cannot. There are paths in this world that do not tolerate the living.”

Her fingers rested lightly against the rim of the brazier, feeling its warmth.

“For He will command His angels concerning you,” she recited softly, her pale eyes never leaving the sorceress, “to guard you in all your ways.”

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Carmelea Nosfir
Archanae Lazarus Jeager

 

[Archanae]

Archanae glanced down at the brazier when she had come close enough, finally breaking eye-contact.

"Useful indeed. A gift, then? From whom, a *deity*?"

Zora
Carmelea Nosfir

 

[Zora]

"A gift implies that they can choose when to serve me. I command them." Archanae’s question lingered unspoken beneath the surface: by whose authority?

“If what you wish to know is whose authority allow me to do such things…” she said, her tone lowering slightly, taking on the cadence of something older than conversation, “This is He, Who having made Voice by His Commandment, is Lord of All Things; King, Ruler and Helper. This is the Lord of the Gods... This is the Lord of the Universe Whom no man has seen at any time.”

A Pause

"The Terrible and Invisible God who dwellest in the Void Place of the Spirit"

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Archanae

 

[Archanae]

Archanae's gaze dimmed, the embers of her intensity dousing. Perhaps it was disappointment or cold realisation taking its place. She took in the presence of Carmelea, offering a slow bob of her head, placing a hand on her own collarbone in greeting. There was familiarity between the two, and even if their apparent ages and exterior differed, there was a certain inhuman sharpness to them both. The hostess was a tall tower of pale flesh and coiled muscle, features at once severe and graceful, black hair running seamlessly away from her brow, eyes like twin sapphires dipped in quicksilver. One could lose themselves in their prism, and Archanae had already tested the safe limits of her willpower.

So she returned her focus to the god-bound girl, instead. There truly was no escape from divinity; new gods multiplied like cockroaches and were about as ancient a species and difficult to stamp out. Scrael staggered up next to her, a mangled testament to mortal ingenuity.

"Ah, a god so mighty he is beyond names?" A gentle scoff left her and she folded her arms, one elbow resting on the other, a hand caressing her own cheek in thought. "Your power belongs wholly to his whim, then?"

Carmelea Nosfir
Zora