This was done in two parts, due to a problem with the ritual. Sorry for the onlookers who missed the second part.
You pull a bone lever and there is a rumble of gears behind the walls about you.
Within a ritual chamber.
The chamber is octagonal, with a vaulted roof above. Blood-like veins web the polished marble stone,
and gleaming, reflect the flames of braziers and torches. Sharpened, crooked tools designed
specifically for torture rest upon a table in the corner of the chamber, half covered by a bloody
cloth. In brass plaques upon the walls, shifting shadowy glyphs tell of ghastly rites and horrific
rituals to those with wit to read them. Brown smears stain the stone, standing testament to
sacrifices past, and rotting body parts lie carelessly strewn about. Protruding from the wall, a
gore encrusted femur acts as handle to an iron lever. A simple granite altar rests here, splattered
with dried blood. A huge archdemon looms here, surrounded by black mist. Trooper Mrak n'Kylbar
stands at the centre of a black stretch of dead, desiccated terrain, the scent of death hanging
heavily in the air. He wields a vicious skull battleaxe with both hands. Clothed in starry robes of
Void-spun brocade, a Merchant of Thelem waits here. He is surrounded by a deflection bubble.
Commandant Rolsand is here. He wields an icy steel hammer in each hand. Aois-Dana Vatul d'Noceur, of
the Danse Macabre is here, shrouded. She wields a charming violin hewn from aphotic willow in her
left hand. A dapper marionette hangs here limply, suspended from silken ropes.
You see a single exit leading up.
With a deafening squeal, a marble wall slides across a narrow set of steps, obscuring them from view.
You smile and say, "Thank you all for coming."
Aois-Dana Vatul d'Noceur, of the Danse Macabre says, "It is an honour, Monsieur."
Shaddus approaches the effluence-coated altar, turning to place his back to it as
he faces the group.
Gesturing to the walls around him, you say, "Welcome to the temple of the Red Masque. Here will you
find many statues, paintings, and depictions of His tenets: Hatred, Greed, and Conflict."
Folding his hands in front of him, you say, "Today, we will speak of Conflict. It comes in many
forms, from simple warfare to political workings behind the scenes."
You say, "Conflict defines us, moulds us. It gives us purpose, gives us ambition and hunger. What
need would we have to better ourselves if things were easy for us, and we had everything we wanted,
hm?"
You feel the very presence of Fain's hand in this place, His power within everything here.
Shaddus taps his staff on the ground, giving off a small cloud of tainted smoke as
it strikes the floor.
You say, "As such, conflict is a tool. We can use it to strengthen ourselves, or perhaps to distract
our foes, letting them fight amongst themselves and weaken each other until we can strike and take
what we want."
Unfolding his arms and turning to the altar behind him, you say, "Before you is one such person who
causes conflict in various forms. Avurekhos, once of Serenwilde and now of the Taint, is no stranger
to Conflict. Today, he is here to assist in a ritual and perhaps...should he be found worthy...a bit
of a promotion."
Avurekhos nods solemnly.
Simply, you say, "Or I'll just grease the gears of our entrance with his fat. Whatever works."
You wave your hand dismissively.
Shaddus draws a sharpened obsidian dagger from a leg sheathe. Drawing it across
both his palms, he presses his hands together, squeezing his cuts and making a gush of blood spill
onto the altar below.
Shaddus holds his hands in front of him. Daubing his left forefinger into the pool
of blood in his right palm, Shaddus draws a third eye upon his forehead. Once this is done, he daubs
more blood under his eyes in deep, striking slashes downwards.
Shaddus D'Cente nods to Avurekhos, pointing to a spot on the ground before him.
Avurekhos Myeras steps forward, standing before you. Knees bent to the ground as if the Crimson Lord
himself was present.
Daubing blood onto Avurekhos' forehead, you say, "Avurekhos Myeras. Nihilist. Maggot in His service."
You say, "I anoint you in His name, with my own blood. Both are His, as are You. Do you freely serve
Him, in body and soul?"
Brother Avurekhos Myeras, the Damned says, "My Soul is His, my Body made for His Will alone."
Turning around and facing the group, you say, "Those who stand here bear witness to his oath to the
Red Masque. Strike him down should he prove false."
A sinister cackling causes the hair on your nape to stand on end, as the malevolent eyes within the
Masque of Fain glow with preternatural light. Moments later the light is gone, but the whisper of
laughter remains.
You say, "My Lord, I grovel before Thee."
A palpable tension enters the air, and the ambient temperature drops sharply.
You turn your head, startled by a whispering off in the shadows.
-secret code words-
Seeping from out the walls and ground and condensing from the very air, a thick sickly red mist
spreads out around you, churning and whirling to the beat of an invisible tune.
The mist thickens and foams in the air, congealing in streaks of bloody dew upon the walls and
staining your vestments. Shallow pools of blood form upon the ground, and in their hazy reflections,
nightmarish shapes prance and frolic with masks upon their faces of varying shapes and designs.
You nod your head at Avurekhos.
Avurekhos drops 22 corpses of a camouflaged elfen ranger.
As the corpse of a graceful elfen healer falls it disintegrates and vaporises, joining the
thickening mists.
Black shapes in the mist snatch the corpse of a dauntless elfen warrior from out of Avurekhos's
hands, rending and tearing it in their shadowy fangs and exhaling the corpse as smoke into the
thickening air.
Black shapes in the mist snatch the corpse of a graceful elfen healer from out of Avurekhos's hands,
rending and tearing it in their shadowy fangs and exhaling the corpse as smoke into the thickening
air.
As the corpse of a graceful elfen healer falls it disintegrates and vaporises, joining the
thickening mists.
As the corpse of a dauntless elfen warrior falls it disintegrates and vaporises, joining the
thickening mists.
As the corpse of a dauntless elfen warrior falls it disintegrates and vaporises, joining the
thickening mists.
Black shapes in the mist snatch the corpse of a camouflaged elfen ranger from out of Avurekhos's
hands, rending and tearing it in their shadowy fangs and exhaling the corpse as smoke into the
thickening air.
As the corpse of a camouflaged elfen ranger hits the ground, it liquefies, draining away as hissing
black ichor as the mist thickens about you.
Black shapes in the mist snatch the corpse of a camouflaged elfen ranger from out of Avurekhos's
hands, rending and tearing it in their shadowy fangs and exhaling the corpse as smoke into the
thickening air.
As the corpse of a dauntless elfen warrior falls it disintegrates and vaporises, joining the
thickening mists.
Black shapes in the mist snatch the corpse of a dauntless elfen warrior from out of Avurekhos's
hands, rending and tearing it in their shadowy fangs and exhaling the corpse as smoke into the
thickening air.
Black shapes in the mist snatch the corpse of a dauntless elfen warrior from out of Avurekhos's
hands, rending and tearing it in their shadowy fangs and exhaling the corpse as smoke into the
thickening air.
Black shapes in the mist snatch the corpse of a graceful elfen healer from out of Avurekhos's hands,
rending and tearing it in their shadowy fangs and exhaling the corpse as smoke into the thickening
air.
As the corpse of a graceful elfen healer hits the ground, it liquefies, draining away as hissing
black ichor as the mist thickens about you.
As the corpse of a graceful elfen healer hits the ground, it liquefies, draining away as hissing
black ichor as the mist thickens about you.
Black shapes in the mist snatch the corpse of a dauntless elfen warrior from out of Avurekhos's
hands, rending and tearing it in their shadowy fangs and exhaling the corpse as smoke into the
thickening air.
Black shapes in the mist snatch the corpse of a dauntless elfen warrior from out of Avurekhos's
hands, rending and tearing it in their shadowy fangs and exhaling the corpse as smoke into the
thickening air.
Black shapes in the mist snatch the corpse of a graceful elfen healer from out of Avurekhos's hands,
rending and tearing it in their shadowy fangs and exhaling the corpse as smoke into the thickening
air.
Black shapes in the mist snatch the corpse of a dauntless elfen warrior from out of Avurekhos's
hands, rending and tearing it in their shadowy fangs and exhaling the corpse as smoke into the
thickening air.
As the corpse of a dauntless elfen warrior falls it disintegrates and vaporises, joining the
thickening mists.
Black shapes in the mist snatch the corpse of a graceful elfen healer from out of Avurekhos's hands,
rending and tearing it in their shadowy fangs and exhaling the corpse as smoke into the thickening
air.
As the corpse of a camouflaged elfen ranger hits the ground, it liquefies, draining away as hissing
black ichor as the mist thickens about you.
Avurekhos drops 24 corpses of a merian bravo.
As the corpse of a merian beachcomber hits the ground, it liquefies, draining away as hissing black
ichor as the mist thickens about you.
As the corpse of a merian beachcomber falls it disintegrates and vaporises, joining the thickening
mists.
As the corpse of a gallant merian bravo falls it disintegrates and vaporises, joining the thickening
mists.
As the corpse of a gallant merian bravo hits the ground, it liquefies, draining away as hissing
black ichor as the mist thickens about you.
As the corpse of a merian beachcomber falls it disintegrates and vaporises, joining the thickening
mists.
As the corpse of a merian beachcomber falls it disintegrates and vaporises, joining the thickening
mists.
Black shapes in the mist snatch the corpse of a merian beachcomber from out of Avurekhos's hands,
rending and tearing it in their shadowy fangs and exhaling the corpse as smoke into the thickening
air.
Black shapes in the mist snatch the corpse of a merian beachcomber from out of Avurekhos's hands,
rending and tearing it in their shadowy fangs and exhaling the corpse as smoke into the thickening
air.
As the corpse of Aloldyne Blontine falls it disintegrates and vaporises, joining the thickening
mists.
As the corpse of a merian bravo falls it disintegrates and vaporises, joining the thickening mists.
As the corpse of a merian maiden falls it disintegrates and vaporises, joining the thickening mists.
Black shapes in the mist snatch the corpse of a merian maiden from out of Avurekhos's hands, rending
and tearing it in their shadowy fangs and exhaling the corpse as smoke into the thickening air.
As the corpse of a gallant merian bravo hits the ground, it liquefies, draining away as hissing
black ichor as the mist thickens about you.
As the corpse of a merian child hits the ground, it liquefies, draining away as hissing black ichor
as the mist thickens about you.
As the corpse of a merian child hits the ground, it liquefies, draining away as hissing black ichor
as the mist thickens about you.
As the corpse of a merian child hits the ground, it liquefies, draining away as hissing black ichor
as the mist thickens about you.
Black shapes in the mist snatch the corpse of a merian bravo from out of Avurekhos's hands, rending
and tearing it in their shadowy fangs and exhaling the corpse as smoke into the thickening air.
As the corpse of a merian maiden falls it disintegrates and vaporises, joining the thickening mists.
As the corpse of a merian bravo falls it disintegrates and vaporises, joining the thickening mists.
Black shapes in the mist snatch the corpse of a merian bravo from out of Avurekhos's hands, rending
and tearing it in their shadowy fangs and exhaling the corpse as smoke into the thickening air.
Black shapes in the mist snatch the corpse of a merian child from out of Avurekhos's hands, rending
and tearing it in their shadowy fangs and exhaling the corpse as smoke into the thickening air.
As the corpse of a merian bravo falls it disintegrates and vaporises, joining the thickening mists.
As the corpse of a merian maiden falls it disintegrates and vaporises, joining the thickening mists.
Black shapes in the mist snatch the corpse of a merian bravo from out of Avurekhos's hands, rending
and tearing it in their shadowy fangs and exhaling the corpse as smoke into the thickening air.
Avurekhos drops 11 corpses of a kephera warder.
As the corpse of a kephera worker hits the ground, it liquefies, draining away as hissing black
ichor as the mist thickens about you.
Black shapes in the mist snatch the corpse of a kephera worker from out of Avurekhos's hands,
rending and tearing it in their shadowy fangs and exhaling the corpse as smoke into the thickening
air.
Black shapes in the mist snatch the corpse of a kephera worker from out of Avurekhos's hands,
rending and tearing it in their shadowy fangs and exhaling the corpse as smoke into the thickening
air.
Black shapes in the mist snatch the corpse of a kephera worker from out of Avurekhos's hands,
rending and tearing it in their shadowy fangs and exhaling the corpse as smoke into the thickening
air.
Black shapes in the mist snatch the corpse of a kephera warrior from out of Avurekhos's hands,
rending and tearing it in their shadowy fangs and exhaling the corpse as smoke into the thickening
air.
Black shapes in the mist snatch the corpse of a kephera worker from out of Avurekhos's hands,
rending and tearing it in their shadowy fangs and exhaling the corpse as smoke into the thickening
air.
As the corpse of a kephera worker hits the ground, it liquefies, draining away as hissing black
ichor as the mist thickens about you.
As the corpse of a kephera worker hits the ground, it liquefies, draining away as hissing black
ichor as the mist thickens about you.
As the corpse of a kephera worker hits the ground, it liquefies, draining away as hissing black
ichor as the mist thickens about you.
As the corpse of a kephera warrior falls it disintegrates and vaporises, joining the thickening
mists.
Black shapes in the mist snatch the corpse of a kephera warder from out of Avurekhos's hands,
rending and tearing it in their shadowy fangs and exhaling the corpse as smoke into the thickening
air.
You say, "We gather to ordain Avurekhos."
The mist thickens further, and your every inhalation becomes laboured as the blood laden air
coagulates within your throat and lungs.
Your head jerks upwards and your vision explodes with crimson motes as an icy hand lays hold of your
soul and you relinquish control of body to Fain.
The mists begin to swirl and churn in maddening rhythm, clockwise and anti-clockwise to the pulse of
an irregular compound time. Dancers form and fade as bloody vapour congeals and parts again, and
distant chilling howls set your heart thumping and fill you with an insatiable thirst for flesh.
Ruled by the Power within you, you step forward and gesture. A squirming tendril of bloody essence
bursts from your fingertips and moves according to your will. It binds Avurekhos's legs, circling up
his torso in tight constricting motions before it plunges into his mouth and down his throat. He
shrieks and writhes, soiling himself into his vestments, but secure within your coils he cannot
escape.
Avurekhos shudders uncontrollably in the crimson bonds, dribbling bloody froth out of his mouth.
Avurekhos vomits wildly, spraying himself with chunks of partially digested food and filling the
chamber with a nauseating stench.
Eyes wide in panting horror, Avurekhos strains at his bonds, shrieking in maddened agony.
You gesture sharply, ending the ritual, and with a surge of warmth, control returns to your body and
Fain's presence diminishes.
A wind of cold air passes over your skin making it shiver with dread.
The crimson mists dissipate as the altar's power fades.
Smirking down at you, you say, "Well done, Priest of Fain. It seems He has found you worthy, from
your conflict and hatred."
Everiine said: The reason population is low isn't because there are too many orgs. It's because so many facets of the game are outright broken and protected by those who benefit from it being that way. An overabundance of gimmicks (including game-breaking ones), artifacts that destroy any concept of balance, blatant pay-to-win features, and an obsession with convenience that makes few things actually worthwhile all contribute to the game's sad decline.
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Comments
Here are the visions from my point of view by the way:
Eyes burning with crimson flame, Shaddus gestures imperiously and a shape congeals from out his fingertips: a squirming tendril of bloody essence which snakes toward you with sudden meanderings, binding your legs and circling up your torso in tight constricting motions before it plunges into your mouth and down your throat, probing, searching, forking and forking again: tearing into veins and capillaries and through your unwilling flesh. Icy agony spreads throughout your body and you convulse wildly, releasing your bowels into your vestments and spraying yourself with your own urine.
--
Impressions flicker through your mind disjointedly: your childhood and adolescence, recollections of lust and hate, pride and avarice, and those of friendship, love, and altruism, whirling and swirling in a chaotic jumble before your mind is black and all you know is Fain, within you and without you, permeating your being with an overpowering malevolence and hate that flays all individuality and self-possession from you, so that your will is His.
--
You stand upon a chequered board of infinite size and space, and all around you reality bulges and constricts in nauseating fashion. Cosmic fingers pinch about your head, to pick you up, writhing, and set you down on different squares of colourless profundity. As indefinable quiddities shift intangibly to your arrival, you realise you are but a Pawn within a Divine plan of overwhelming complexity, a single point within incomprehensible webs of entangled conceits and subtleties which overlie each other in hazy blurring mantlets of twilight inextricability.
--
The chequered webs dissolve about you, and you find yourself in blackness, floating formlessly in a place without place, the absence hungrily tearing at your battered consciousness. Your lonely screams die upon your lips, for there is no sound in the void.
--
The bonds of essence about you dissolves, and, unsupported, you fall to your knees.
11/10 would soil my vestments for Fain all over again.
I think I'm glad I wasn't there for the second part What do you mean by this? Was it preparation in addition to the corpses, or did it happen as a result of the ritual?