• Closed • Polymathy

Sybil, please.

Stronghold of education and learning, this fortress is in one of the coldest areas of Idalos and home to many knowledge seekers in a variety of disciplines. However, unknown to most, below the city are those who suffer for the sake of science. While all are welcome, not everyone will be treated as they expect

Moderator: Pegasus

User avatar
Doran
Approved Character
Posts: 663
Joined: Sat Sep 03, 2016 3:43 am
Race: Mortal Born
Profession: Alchemist
Renown: +270
Character Sheet
Secrets
Plot Notes
Player Review
Templates
Letters
Point Bank Thread
Wealth Tier: Tier 9

Featured

Contribution

Milestones

RP Medals

Events

Re: Polymathy

Mon Sep 23, 2019 6:04 am

Image
“I see“, the Mortalborn remarked curtly as Sybil admitted to not being able to read him like the others. Their reply came as a relief to him – he had been slightly paranoid for a moment - but at the same time it raised a number of new questions. They were not a mage. Did they have abilities that were somewhat similar to his own then? Or were they simply skilled in the interpretation of emotions and body language, like some sort of psychiatrist? He thought about asking them, but then he decided against it as prying too much and asking too many questions too quickly might make them withdraw again – and he was so close to finding out what was wrong with them - and why he couldn’t read them the way he should be able to.

“I can give you something that helps with the seizures”, he offered, furrowing his brow as he considered their case again. It was more complicated than he had assumed at first. They didn’t only seem to be troubled by the Empty, but by several kinds of spirits at the same time. Besides that, there was the matter of the anchor that he had assumed to be a tooth of sorts at first.

Death was a subject that he had researched in depth, both to ensure his own continued existence and to prevent the passing of a man that he had loved, centuries before, in the very same city that he was living in again now.

While he been alive for close to four centuries, he hadn’t been able to prevent his death, and his father’s people had turned their back on him when he had begged them to intervene even though they would easily have been able to. The Immortals, he had realized then, were inherently selfish creatures. There would be no point in dwelling on past events and past heartache though – he considered doing such to be a weakness – and thus he thought about what Sybil had told him again. As they mentioned infanticide, he firmly shook his head.

“Crushing the anchor wouldn’t be infanticide”, he informed them in a matter-of-fact tone. “They are already dead, and returning them to life is as good as impossible without divine intervention or certain Immortal marks. Trust me, I tried to bring a soul back from the world beyond before. It didn’t work”, he told them with a hint of bitterness, surprisingly readily admitting to his failure, perhaps due to the alcohol that Sybil had insisted that he drink.

There had also been Beira, an Yludih who had taken the form of an Eidisi. Upon her death she had gone to Uleuda as all members of her race inevitably did eventually. He hadn’t been able to bring her back from there. He hadn’t even been able to contact her anymore. There was only her son now, fathered by another man, a bitter reminder of the woman he had lost and the life they could have had together if things had gone differently.

“Harming those souls might be worth it if it weakens the Empty”, he informed them and drank more, feeling the effects of the alcohol more strongly now. It left an unpleasant sensation in the pit of the stomach that was likely aggravated by the fact that he had not eaten a lot before he had come to the Devil’s Advocate. He knew exactly what Sybil was trying to do, but for the time being he considered the unpleasant side effects of the beverage to be more than worth it. Besides, he thought with a hint of amusement, he would finally have a good reason to invent a potion that rendered you immune to alcohol.

“Do you want to get rid of the Empty though?” he asked them. They had mentioned answering some of the harder questions he had, and that was the first – and most important one – that had come to his mind. At first, he had assumed that Sybil did of course want to get rid of the creature that possessed them. If he had been in their place, he would have wanted nothing more. He had a strong aversion to anything that tried to control his mind and his body – he would never become a mage because of it. Perhaps, he realized, he had been wrong as far as Sybil was concerned though. Perhaps they were just like Jonathan who would have balked at the idea of anybody exorcizing the parasite.

“How did you come in contact with it, by the way?” he wanted to know, eyeing the pitcher of rum with a look of mild distaste.
word count: 793
User avatar
Sybil Malach
Approved Character
Posts: 955
Joined: Sun Feb 03, 2019 9:36 pm
Race: Human
Profession: Ignoble Thanatologist
Renown: +240
Character Sheet
Character Wiki
Secrets
Personal Journal
Templates
Letters
Point Bank Thread
Wealth Tier: Tier 5

Contribution

Re: Polymathy

Mon Sep 23, 2019 2:07 pm

Image
VI
36th of Saun, Arc 719

"I'm well aware of what happens when an anchor is destroyed." Sybil responds easily enough. Letting out a slow breath, they pluck the tooth from the handkerchief, and examine it between their index and thumb, "The soul begins to lose itself. I've done it plenty of times. It's a genuine sort of death. Whatever they were, would be stripped of personality. What's left is an amalgam of persona that'll only become something else more powerful. ... Or spend the rest of its life as the lowest form of existence." They say, easily enough. Eyes returning to Doran, they consider him for a moment. A slow cant of the head is offered.

"The Phantoms that my body is being forced to surrogate are souls of victims. The Empty had husked several score humans and wore their bodies like a flesh coat. She had melded them into an infantile form, to keep up its facade of being a caregiver." They softly sighed, sliding the tooth within the napkin, wrapping it up, and sliding their hands beneath their cloak. Their hand would feel around for a moment, before settling on the internal pocket of the cloak itself, as they simply allow the anchor to fall within, "If something's psyche is broken to think it's a child, Doran, it may as well be one. These are the souls of victims, undeserving of having their existence molested."

Their eyes grow heavy at this subject. Though strangely, they don't appear to be anywhere near sad or sorrowful. It's merely a case of Sybil feeling mildly melancholic about it. Letting out a slow breath, they shake their head, "If I'm going to do this, then I'm going to do this right. Frankly speaking, I'm not about to add more Empties to this world. And yes. I'm trying to be rid of her."

Rolling their shoulders, he finally asks about how they even managed to get possessed. "In most cases, possession happens when one wanders too close to an anchor. Or when they themselves become the anchor. But in this case, a specific, isolated event seemed to be the major cause of this. A man from the Northern Wastes, and another from Quacia, were brought into the southern border of Viden in a flash. ... It's not unlike rupturing, but on a massive scale, I presume." They fold their hands over their lap, preparing to explain more, before their lips shut.

"We encountered something that dragged us through time and space. Though we were only gone for a few breaks, days had passed, yet we had traveled far further than what should be naturally possible." Finally comes the explanation. Canting their head to the side, their eyes study Doran, slowly. Hands resting against the tabletop, they lean back against their chair, "We saw things that were not for many eyes to see."

Image
word count: 500
"The machinations of apathy benefit only those that have power upon you. Yet, are not all gods and men made equal beneath the weight of steel? What then to the flames that tempered that iron into steel? To make what was impure, pure again, it must be sent through a crucible of flame. Cooked until all that is left is the purity of a blameless soul. Iron that weeps is not steel. Iron that has been tortured, burned, scorched, becomes steel through redemption alone."
-Sybil Malach, justifying the burning of a necromancer.

NPCs: Karlsson, Margaret
User avatar
Doran
Approved Character
Posts: 663
Joined: Sat Sep 03, 2016 3:43 am
Race: Mortal Born
Profession: Alchemist
Renown: +270
Character Sheet
Secrets
Plot Notes
Player Review
Templates
Letters
Point Bank Thread
Wealth Tier: Tier 9

Featured

Contribution

Milestones

RP Medals

Events

Re: Polymathy

Wed Sep 25, 2019 3:23 am

Image
“Why do you care about those souls so much?” the Mortalborn wanted to know. “As I have told you before, they are beyond help. Restoring them is next to impossible. You on the other hand are still alive. You still have a chance. Is that not more important?” he asked and raised an eyebrow questioningly. He didn’t know why Sybil was telling him that the Phantoms were the souls of victims. Did they expect him to pity them? Did they expect him to pity beings that he had never known while they had still been alive and thus didn’t have any connection to? It seemed like an utter waste of time to him.

“Besides, do you not think that the Phantoms are suffering now?” he asked, the tone of his voice tinged with emotion due to the alcohol he had drunk and met their gaze. “Do you not think that they are desperate, stuck between the world of the dead and the living as they are and unable to let go? A soul without a body cannot exist for a prolonged period of time without gradually losing certain aspects of itself. Perhaps laying them to rest would be more … humane”, he spoke, putting a strange emphasis on the last word.

He didn’t share Sybil’s melancholy. As far as he was concerned, it didn’t matter if they added more Empties to the world or if souls were being harmed as long as he didn’t suffer any consequences. Instead of being melancholic, he was strangely curious as this was a topic that he hadn’t been able to debate in quite some time. Most mortal beings, he had realized, knew little about the world beyond, about death and what came after it, but existed in a state of permanent semi-ignorance. In some ways they were like children, clumsily stumbling through a world that they could barely even begin to understand.

“I experienced something similar myself once”, he said as they talked about how they had gotten possessed, the alcohol loosening his tongue slightly. “A number of people, myself included, were brought from Ne’haer to a frozen wasteland in the far north within the blink of an eye in order to conduct a supposedly important mission. Somebody created a portal right through Emea. There were things there, things that few mortals ever saw before us”, he told them before he broke off again, a thoughtful look on his face. They had been brought to Treid’s Tomb to fight a battle that had been nothing but a farce. He’d decided to end things there – and exact revenge on those that he considered to be responsible for what had happened.

“But that’s beside the point now. There’s something I've been wondering about since you mentioned the Empty”, he admitted, choosing his next words carefully lest Sybil withdrew again. “Did your being possessed have any positive side effects or did it only make you sick?” Mutations such as the ones that mages received due to their alliance with the Spark sometimes brought about strange abilities. He wondered if it was the same in the case of an Empty or if Sybil resisting him was due to an innate ability.

He was just about to finally ask them how exactly they intended to go about exorcizing the Empty – he’d already come to the conclusion that their method would likely leave something to be desired – when they mentioned that they had seen things that were not for many eyes to see. He leaned forward in his chair then, momentarily distracted by what they had said, looked directly at them and wanted to know, “What exactly did you see?”

There was something in his eyes now apart from cold and indifference. There was a strange kind of shimmer. The Mortalborn was not afraid as a lesser man might be when being confronted with matters of a supernatural nature. Instead, he was … fascinated.
word count: 675
Post Reply

Return to “Viden”