The void shimmered as it guided me through images of past, present and future. Showing a renewed purpose for my urge to destroy and pave the way for RagnaRok, allowing Lord Sephiroth to merge with the lifestream and rise to ultimate power.
At this time I realised I had been summoned by Jenova. Her tight grasp capturing my mind and memories and exchanging them with Her own. There was no void around me as I had suspected, the void grew from within me as She showed me the dawn of a new day and the dusk that would follow soon after.
As I embraced my new future I returned to my new body, transformed by the essence of Jenova herself, reborn as a soldier of Sephiroth, now waiting to do His bidding.
Followers of Sephiroth, I seek admission into your ranks. Together we shall fulfill our destiny and raise Sephiroth and the Black Church to the divine and almighty.
Nerlith Perditio.
Showing posts with label Sephiroth. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sephiroth. Show all posts
Nerlith's Open Application (Part 1)
Dawn is imminent. As birds begin their daily routine with their serenade to the rising sun, the first rays of sunlight slowly progress west and illuminate Market Square in Westbridge, reflecting and scattering in drops of morning dew. The entire square blinks brightly in this early light, except for a large object sitting in the middle of the large fountain, leaning against it's sculptures.
Upon second glance, the object seems to be a tablet made of black granite, the front side polished, bearing an inscription across its entire length. The entire text seems to be written in an ancient language known to few.
Hail, Followers of Sephiroth.
I am Nerlith Perditio. Former Stormlord of Talos, Bringer of the Rok. You have proven yourselves to be hard to reach, however I am sure this will bring me to your attention.
For years I have been trapped on another plane. As lord Talos betrayed and abandoned those faithful to him and the Jihad faction shattered, I spent my days in the void as I felt the world as I once knew it being taken over by the Black Church. It felt as if I was there the day that Strega infiltrated the Illuminati and changed the balance of the old clans forever.
It was through her eyes that Sephiroth made me see the truth. While I thought that I had been serving Lord Talos and saught for Destruction by the bringing of the Rok in the Jihad faction, it turned out I had always served Sephiroth instead.
Upon second glance, the object seems to be a tablet made of black granite, the front side polished, bearing an inscription across its entire length. The entire text seems to be written in an ancient language known to few.
Hail, Followers of Sephiroth.
I am Nerlith Perditio. Former Stormlord of Talos, Bringer of the Rok. You have proven yourselves to be hard to reach, however I am sure this will bring me to your attention.
For years I have been trapped on another plane. As lord Talos betrayed and abandoned those faithful to him and the Jihad faction shattered, I spent my days in the void as I felt the world as I once knew it being taken over by the Black Church. It felt as if I was there the day that Strega infiltrated the Illuminati and changed the balance of the old clans forever.
It was through her eyes that Sephiroth made me see the truth. While I thought that I had been serving Lord Talos and saught for Destruction by the bringing of the Rok in the Jihad faction, it turned out I had always served Sephiroth instead.
In The Fix
Sanria had been slammed down onto the stones with such a force the wind was knocked from her. She swore a rib was broken as she lay there, writhing in pain. "What we do with her?" a deep baritone voice growled out.
"Breakfast?" answered another.
"Breakfast, yes," the baritone laughed.
"What the hell?" A red-caped man strode into the room, his cape billowing behind him.
For Sanria, the only thing definitive was the highly polished red boots that stepped into her field of vision. "Who the hell is this?"
"Trespasser," answered one of the minotaur guards.
"Well how the hell did she get in here? Weren't you doing your job?"
A deep grumble went through the guards and amazingly enough, they remained silent. The red boot then suddenly found contact with Sanria's side in the form of a swift kick.
"What the hell are you doing in here?"
"Oh please... don't... kick me again..." Sanria said gulping for air.
The red caped man knelt down near her, eyeing her carefully. He pulled the communication crystal from beneath her shoulder and tucked it into the pouch at his waist. He was a young man, his chin covered in stubble, his eyebrows thick and set over his eyes making him look permanently irritated. Blonde hair was to his jaw line and he let go of a snort.
"You have no idea all the things we could do to you. State your business here."
"I... came..."
"Faster!" the man snarled.
"I have... no business... I... miscalculated my spell..."
"Well, your miscalculations will find you fetching a fair price on the slave market." The man reached down, taking a fist full of Sanria's hair to lift her head from the stones.
"Yes. Lord Sephiroth always appreciates funding." He let Sanria's head fall to the stones as he stood. "Get her to the dungeon."
"What about breakfast? Let us eat her," stated the guards.
"Typical, always the stomachs. Take her to the cells and she'll be going out with the rest of the trash tomorrow."
It felt as though streams of white hot electricity were bouncing around inside of her body as the guards lifted her without a hint of gentility and drug her, literally, to the cell. They tossed her onto the hard bed that folded from the wall on chains and locked the door behind them. It was going to be a hard night.
Sanria woke without a clue as to the time. It was still dark and lit only by the torches that flickered in from the hallway. The cell was cold, cramped, dank and left Sanria feeling quite worried about her fate. 'Wonderful move,' she thought to herself. 'Couldn't have at least *checked* for the crystal?' She let out a sigh and then turned her focus to healing herself. She was no priest, but she had at least managed to calm the constant pain when the door crashed in. Before her was the last face she thought she'd ever see again. Throm had come... and he looked wild.
"Breakfast?" answered another.
"Breakfast, yes," the baritone laughed.
"What the hell?" A red-caped man strode into the room, his cape billowing behind him.
For Sanria, the only thing definitive was the highly polished red boots that stepped into her field of vision. "Who the hell is this?"
"Trespasser," answered one of the minotaur guards.
"Well how the hell did she get in here? Weren't you doing your job?"
A deep grumble went through the guards and amazingly enough, they remained silent. The red boot then suddenly found contact with Sanria's side in the form of a swift kick.
"What the hell are you doing in here?"
"Oh please... don't... kick me again..." Sanria said gulping for air.
The red caped man knelt down near her, eyeing her carefully. He pulled the communication crystal from beneath her shoulder and tucked it into the pouch at his waist. He was a young man, his chin covered in stubble, his eyebrows thick and set over his eyes making him look permanently irritated. Blonde hair was to his jaw line and he let go of a snort.
"You have no idea all the things we could do to you. State your business here."
"I... came..."
"Faster!" the man snarled.
"I have... no business... I... miscalculated my spell..."
"Well, your miscalculations will find you fetching a fair price on the slave market." The man reached down, taking a fist full of Sanria's hair to lift her head from the stones.
"Yes. Lord Sephiroth always appreciates funding." He let Sanria's head fall to the stones as he stood. "Get her to the dungeon."
"What about breakfast? Let us eat her," stated the guards.
"Typical, always the stomachs. Take her to the cells and she'll be going out with the rest of the trash tomorrow."
It felt as though streams of white hot electricity were bouncing around inside of her body as the guards lifted her without a hint of gentility and drug her, literally, to the cell. They tossed her onto the hard bed that folded from the wall on chains and locked the door behind them. It was going to be a hard night.
Sanria woke without a clue as to the time. It was still dark and lit only by the torches that flickered in from the hallway. The cell was cold, cramped, dank and left Sanria feeling quite worried about her fate. 'Wonderful move,' she thought to herself. 'Couldn't have at least *checked* for the crystal?' She let out a sigh and then turned her focus to healing herself. She was no priest, but she had at least managed to calm the constant pain when the door crashed in. Before her was the last face she thought she'd ever see again. Throm had come... and he looked wild.
Time Spent
Sanria sat in her kitchen, both her hands upon a single piece of parchment. She stared at the rolling script, touching it every now and again as though the very act would bring forth the author. It wasn't a goodbye note she held in her hand, it held more of a promising outlook. Throm would join her for tea.
Sanria carefully laid the missive on the table and slid her hands around the cup of slowly cooling tea before her. A small ball of doubt sat in the center of her stomach, preventing her from even taking a sip. Thasmudyan told her to move ahead, to go on with life. She was trying, but it was hard to let go of one aspect of that life, and deal with the others. What would Tarran think? What would Emalia think?
What, at any rate, was happening with Emalia? Sanria had no clue where her daughter was, how she was, or even if she still lived. In a way, she was afraid to find out. She still recalled a time when Nanashi talked to her of bringing down the Rok, as well as Thasmudyan, rushing to find her and inform her of Sephiroth speaking to the masses. How Emalia could fall in line with thoughts like those that Nanashi had spoken to her years past, puzzled her. But to try to speak to her daughter about it could only end in the same type of disaster as the last time she tried.
Sanria shook her head and again and let go of the cup, taking hold of Throm's note in both her hands. Her eyes were drawn to a single passage and like a girl, she read it again and again to drown out all her other thoughts save one: "Truth be told I have enjoyed our meetings, no I have looked forward to them in a sense that I have failed to express before in our conversations. I must say that I admire your candor, for it is one that I did not possess when I felt the same way towards you."
Sanria carefully laid the missive on the table and slid her hands around the cup of slowly cooling tea before her. A small ball of doubt sat in the center of her stomach, preventing her from even taking a sip. Thasmudyan told her to move ahead, to go on with life. She was trying, but it was hard to let go of one aspect of that life, and deal with the others. What would Tarran think? What would Emalia think?
What, at any rate, was happening with Emalia? Sanria had no clue where her daughter was, how she was, or even if she still lived. In a way, she was afraid to find out. She still recalled a time when Nanashi talked to her of bringing down the Rok, as well as Thasmudyan, rushing to find her and inform her of Sephiroth speaking to the masses. How Emalia could fall in line with thoughts like those that Nanashi had spoken to her years past, puzzled her. But to try to speak to her daughter about it could only end in the same type of disaster as the last time she tried.
Sanria shook her head and again and let go of the cup, taking hold of Throm's note in both her hands. Her eyes were drawn to a single passage and like a girl, she read it again and again to drown out all her other thoughts save one: "Truth be told I have enjoyed our meetings, no I have looked forward to them in a sense that I have failed to express before in our conversations. I must say that I admire your candor, for it is one that I did not possess when I felt the same way towards you."
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