Portal Breach: The Collision of Worlds :: v.4.0

    Time is Nigh(t)



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    Time is Nigh(t)

    Post by Nessa on Sun Jan 18, 2015 3:25 pm

    3:32AM ; January 17

    The sewers reek with the stench of pestilence.

    The vermin in the sewer, from small mice to rats, have come to the gathering. Even a few cats and raccoon have come, those who have found the influence of Mother and found her to their liking more than the loneliness of the streets. All manner of insects gather upon their hides, and glowing crimson eyes mark each of the Children. They know it is time, and time was indeed needed for this gathering. The sewer is filled to bursting with all manner of parasitic and scavenging creatures. The smell inside is beyond horrible; gore, viscera, and carcasses of the same animals piled atop each other. A dark shroud hangs over them all, small enchantments over sewer grates stop the smell from leaving the area and a single aura stopping them from being noticed in any sense.

    They all are fleeting creatures, yet they wait patiently and without much movement at all. A few of the newer ones are becoming anxious, due to some of their predators in the bunch, but they stay nonetheless.

    In the center of the maintenance room, a circle of 150 rats stand waiting with an albino rat in the middle. Stark white is she, a little flame amidst the oily black of the others. A rogue flea lands upon her naught but once before it jumps off. This one is not one to ride upon. Hers is the name Suzanne, first mate of this crew and not a single organism amongst them will contest that.

    From the darkness of a corner, the smell of blood seeps out. Unnatural and thick, the red aura of the Piper appears first before she does. Nessa of Hamelin, the Mother, steps forth from the shroud. Any semblance of movement stops and all eyes are on her. Those out in the tunnels turn their heads as the link to her is established, the aura sinks into the creatures' minds, they feel... safe. At home.

    Their Mother is home.

    Nessa's pale face shines as a sliver of moonlight shades her face from the grate above her. Her hair is wild and unkempt, in the knotted dreadlocks she adores. Her now completely blackened garb gathers no light, but the aura of her own liking glows red at her feet, smoking up like freshly doused flames. Mother stands forth into the ring of her First Children, who take notice of her, but stay looking outwards. Five of the children, including Suzanne, pull out a small piece of charcoal each from their cheek pouches and begin to draw along the ground. Great and ancient spells of many different cultures blending together, a few Archons' symbols as well, sealing the entirety of the spell into something even more ageless than the world of the Piper's origin.

    Oh the secrets the Elder Nergal had given her... oh how it should have not.

    In the end, his secrets and knowledge stayed with Nessa, so she plans to keep it that way and use it to the best of her creative ability.

    A small smile splays across the Piper's face as she sits in the middle of the great story written out before her, folding her legs together and slowly putting the Black Flute together. The instrument catches the air and whispered screams of souls long lost fill the area, Nessa has grown to find the voices soothing. At least she is not the one permanently bound to the ancient device. She sets it down on her lap, the congregation staring and hanging on her every motion. They wait. Their part will come soon.

    The five rats finish, stowing their charcoal and going back to their positions. Suzanne upon Nessa's shoulder in an instant. Nessa looks out to their work, taking in every detail. Wards and amplifications is all it is, but the important part is it's construction. It spirals out in eight directions, four for the cardinal directions and another four for the secondary. Each with a limit of range. It is all very precise and calculated, just as an assassin's tools should be.

    The Piper reaches into her peacoat to her side, unsheathing Carnwennan, the even more ancient tool. Carefully placing it in front of her. As the dagger leaves her grip, the voices cease. An almost impossible quiet fills the area.

    She's done her time thinking about this plan, but for whatever reason, she feels like it would benefit her greatly to finally unveil such a powerful spell in her arsenal. She is capable of many greater things, but by far this is one of her most creative, yet simple enough.

    Whatever being that she's trying to impress, she feels she ought to be on its good side. There are benefits to befriending psychopaths and geniuses alike. That and something ancient beyond reckoning; she definitely can understand that completely.

    Nessa clears her mind, leaning forward and picking up the blade, feeding it her aura. Her lifeforce, for this small moment. Her cheeks sink in and her aura flares black, the entire sewer of creatures now cloaked. She lifts the dagger slightly and slides it into the concrete beneath her, the blade piercing it like soft earth. The writing underneath her glows bright violet for a flash of a moment, and then naught a being around could be seen. The stench, the feeling, the sight, the sounds, and even the taste on the air disappears. All traces of her magicks fade away.

    But they have not left, yet.

    The Mischief of vermin that have gathered, look upon Mother in the swirl of blackness that they now see, and in that moment, she nods. They all scurry away, stretching Nessa's now undetectable presence to all corners of the city in mere moments. All of which keep their shroud to stop any from finding them.

    Nessa sits in constant meditation, her original children in a circle around her, binding the swirl of ancient writing around her with their forever young lifeforces.

    Suzanne sits atop Nessa's head in the hurricane of whispered agonizing cries in this slight dimension gap. Nessa's glowing red eyes burn bright to them. They know the strain she is under, but also know that... she is indeed strong enough for such a feat.

    After the extended 'family' arrives at their predetermined locations, Nessa feels the confirmation in unanimity. She lets her hands fall to her lap, and wraps her slender fingers with a slight tremble of grasp around the ancient instrument. As she brings it to her lips, more anguished cries whisper in her ears. The Piper takes a long breath in, and lets a single note play.

    No sound is heard.

    Not to the world, not to her children.

    Not to her.

    The Black Flute's phantom song rings out to the far reaches of the city, fueled and amplified by her stretched thin aura. Each one of the creatures of the night stop where they were and open their respective hungry mouths to the sky. The song falls upon the sleeping and rare awakened beings of weak will. A beggar sleeping on the ground, a frazzled young man with not but worldly knowledge, a simple child, new to the world, but without any grasp on reality. Not a feeling would know this song, it blends into their being like an distracted vaccination for a child. A pang of feeling in their mind might be felt, for those of even weaker will, but in the end, they forget everything about, or simply fall back asleep.

    In that instance, when the song finishes, and the last note is held, Nessa feels them. All of them. They are now connected. Quite a few people in the Ghetto are the connected, but she knows who else is as well. A few in the business district, a couple from the park, many homeless, many families. She feels them all.

    And then... she picks out the choice cuts.

    Holding her hands before her temples, she cuts the connection of consciousness from those she does not need. She only needs naught but one hundred. The ones that can walk at least.

    Ninety-nine souls plus one.

    The process is long, and her energy runs low, but in the end... her eyes open, and the shroud dissipates, and she gives out her compulsion. The great suggestion to all one hundred of these poor nobodies.

    "Come, Come my Children. Follow your mother."

    One by one, the affected souls loosen their grip on consciousness without a fight. They stand, and walk away in the blinking night's darkness. Toward their new Mother.

    Nessa stands, her arm shaking for a moment, but then her eyes open in a blazing sense of thrill. Oh how this will be quite the beautiful gathering. Her expansive army of dark-dwellers continue about their business in the city, as if nothing ever happened.

    The Piper and her First Children, however...

    They are gone from sense again, leaving the sewer empty, and taking their leave of the City. Nessa walking with great patience toward her next location.

    This rite shall be noticed by one, and then later... by all of those that lost their loved ones in the night.

    A sense of deja vu nags at the back of the Piper's mind as she leaves City Limits.


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    Re: Time is Nigh(t)

    Post by Diablo on Thu Jan 22, 2015 2:12 pm

    And just what have we here...?

    Atop its perch at the Stock Pot Inn lounged a content black cat, its fur a lustrous ebony and its eyes a twinkling gold. It, as with most cats, felt hardly a trouble in all the world. But it, unlike most cats, took delight in the troubles of others. Whiskers twitched, a tail languidly curling.

    One hundred souls... children of the undesirables and urged into the night, taken. A purr escaped the cat's throat as it yawned. It would seem, the feline supposed, that someone had decided to make due on their previous commitments. Very, very good; though, it reckoned, there was yet to be the final act. Should it mosey on about and discover this masterpiece for itself? Or shall it assume the path of a distant observer, presence felt but not seen? Ah, decisions, decisions... For a moment the cat pondered this quandary, a shiver traveling down its spine as it stretched. Hooked claws unfurled and relaxed. It would be exciting to witness yet another act of terror - a fellow artist's labour of love. And would it not be considerate for a veteran patron to pay close attention to budding talent? Yes, yes... The decision had been made.

    The cat hopped off its resting spot and gracefully leaped down to the concrete below, paws silently traveling down the nearby sidewalk.

    It was time to appreciate a monument to terror in all its wonderful shapes and forms.

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