The air of the cavern suddenly grew stale, with an after-hint of some scent the prisoner could not place. He looked over in the gloom, towards the diminished space of the cavern door. The Nullman. The prisoner felt his heart quicken, and willed it still again-- stress would only speed his death. "Well, you got me. Now what?"
The Nullman said something about their time being limited.
The prisoner laughed. "You bet your time is limited. My brother and sisters will come looking for me. But what they'll do is nothing compared to what my /parents/ will do to you when they find you."
The Nullman indicated his confusion, then seemed to grasp the meaning. It assured the prisoner that precautions had been taken, and that the prisoner would not be found until it was too late.
The prisoner leaned back, looking away from the Nullman. "I heard about the rout in the Worm Scar. Two of your lieutenants were talking about it. Our forces will be here soon. There's no way you're going to keep my family from finding me."
The Nullman acknowledged the truth of the statement. It explained that the prisoner could return to his family on his own time, if he wished. It begged the prisoner to wait while it explained though. It explained at length about pain, the agony of existence. About how it wished that it could end everything. The Nullman wished the burden of existence could be lifted from its shoulders. It wished it could give the gift of non-existence to the prisoner. It begged the prisoner's forgiveness.
The prisoner laughed. "You're asking me to forgive you for letting me live?"
The disturbance passed close to the prisoner, reaching towards him. It explained that the Power eroded things outside in, until just the core remained. The Nullman explained that all that was left to it was the identity of advisor, so it would advise while it could. It explained that unlike the rest of them, the prisoner wanted to live, to exist. When the prisoner bore the burden, that was what would remain. The Nullman chided the prisoner for the folly, but said the prisoner's folly would help lead others to a better fate.
The prisoner went still.
The knife-- the prisoner had lost track of it-- the Nullman must have picked it up. The Nullman (he could see him clearly now) reached for his restraints, cutting him free.
The prisoner expressed confusion, testing his injuries.
The Nullman begged him to leave, to hide, before they found what the Nullman had done. The Nullman explained that it served the one it had just freed, he who was Nameless Manifest, he who made the Nullman. The Nullman gave the Nameless Manifest the knife, and further armed him with instructions on how to find friends and allies in the court of Void. The Nullman begged the Manifest to kill it with the knife, to bring the agony of its existence to an end. It begged the Nameless Manifest to make more Nullmen, to spread his seed of non-existence.
Confused, the injured Nameless Manifest ran.
The Nullman sighed, looking at the Manifest run. The Manifest would not unravel like the rest of them. It pitied the Manifest and his desire to exist. Wretched creature.
The Nullman looked down at itself. It could feel the cusp of non-existence rushing towards it. Soon it would be no more, freed from this prison of causality. As it passed its forces, it had no forces. As it passed the mouth of its cave stronghold, there was no cave stronghold. The Nullman walked slowly to the front lines, the radiation of its unraveling touching all those around it. Now, only a promise to the Void Courts remained. It would deliver the message.
Harkan never had a Nameless Vizier, only a Nullman ally. Soon, Harkan would not even have that.
Rindacsa stood outside the circle of 11 Valhonians, alone. Around them, the camp was an anthill kicked into activity as men, women, and beasts broke down tents. As she drew her athame and closed a circle around herself, the noise of the camp instantly died, leaving a ringing in her ears. She shook her head and steadied herself for the prayer.
She was the Counterpoint, and the Valhonians here had asked her to perform as a Brother Witch for her prayer. Normally she would be too busy, but after the close call with her children she had carved out this time each day for prayer. These prayers soothed her, helped her keep her mind together, helped her keep down the wellspring of sorcerers that kept threatening to overtake her every time she reached for their magic.
Rindacsa turned her attention to those praying. As a brother witch of Silence, she couldn't hear their prayers directly. She had to guess at what they were praying for by studying the absence of their desires, feeling the absence of their attention to facts in their own minds. It was a strange thing, describing the shape of someone's desire by looking at the negative space in their minds. Rindacsa concentrated, unlocking forgotten facts for some, hiding crippling fear for others. She helped each individual in turn, then prayed for herself. "Father of Silence, show me how to listen to the Silence, to better understand the Mysteries, and to find strength in myself.." A simple prayer for a basic intention. She felt the wellspring of faith, and unleashed the work.
....
.....Something was not right. She had been called to the front lines, supposedly to parlay with a major lieutenant in Harkan's army that wanted to surrender. Still, no one could tell her who the lieutenant was, or give her any background information. She scanned over the troops that were waiting, looking for the platoon leader, when suddenly all the sound died around her...
... Something was not right. She had been called to the front lines, supposedly to parlay with a major lieutenant in Harkan's army that wanted to surrender. The front was supposed to be right here, but the Alliance army wasn't where command said it would be. Puzzled, Rindacsa prepared a life spell to find the platoon, only to feel the spell die inside as the sound died all around her....
... Something was not right. Rindacsa was sweating, knuckles white against her staff. She had her protections up, but she couldn't remember activating them. She had been called to the front lines, she was sure of it. Why had she been called here? Why was it so empty? There was no wind, only the ringing of her ears in the silence.
Rindacsa stopped acting, and listened. In the silence, she could hear. She closed her eyes, and she could see. "Bless the Father for this boon," she thought.
It was in the middle of the field where she had been told to go. She could not see it, but like the prayers she could see the space around it, feel the mysteries it's tendrils created as they lashed out touching everything near by. She was sure now the platoon had been here. She was sure now that this area of land had once been 5 times the size. With the blessing of Mysteries, she saw reality draining into a vortex of nothing at the epicenter, always accelerating. At this rate, it would consume her and the adjacent armies. She prepared a travel spell, speeding around the vortex, trying to cut it off.
There was something in the epicenter, she could feel it looking at her.
She lept away as her protections failed. She had failed to raise them... no, with her grip on her staff, her protections that had stood up to demigods had been simply stripped away. What was this?
The thing at the center shouted at her, asking her to please stand still.
She cast with infinity, circling around the vortex, trying to warp space back to where it had been, to make more space, so that all of reality would not be consumed by this monster.
The thing shouted after her in the center of the maelstrom, asking for her name.
"I am the Counterpoint!" She shouted back. She circled, casting with boundaries, trying to contain the effects of the monster. Why was it so hard to cast?!
The thing mocked her, rambling about how it was the true counterpoint to all that was, is, will be, etc etc. She couldn't follow, the words falling out of her consciousness as she concentrated on casting. She cast with mana, sending a blast into the center, trying to disrupt it.
She watched in horror as the mana she sent into the maelstrom simply became pure Void, then blasted back to her direction. She only barely lept away in time.
The thing, roughly humanoid in shape cried out in sounds of pure ecstasy. The maelstrom pulsed and grew, as the thing in the center shouted for more, promising to release them both from existence if she fed it more.
Rindacsa backed up, sweating. What was this? She racked through her generations of memories, coming up only with a dim memory of a forgotten God who had no name.
Rindacsa circled around the maelstrom a third time, casting with spheres that were familiar to her, spheres she knew well. She worked with silence, with connections, with magic and with reflections. She could not bind this monster directly, but she could bind it's effects on the world. She would collect the mysteries, binding them into the reflections in her armor, and give them a name. She circled outside the creature's area of effect, as it screamed in rage. As she completed her 11th secret, she whispered into her armor.
"You are No More."
The creature screamed a wild scream as it imploded, it's definition it's undoing.
The maelstrom stopped. She felt the secrets of the Nullman flow into her armor, sensed the damage he had wrecked to both the Alliance, Harkan's armies, and to Shem itself. These secrets would take some time to parse, but one secret stood right at the surface. Before it exploded into non-existence, the Nullman had a message for her from the Court of Void:
"We promised to leave you alone for a time. We made no such promises about your children."
Captain Valabalar sat huddled close with his 20 men, back to back, weapons drawn. Pit monsters approached from the left, hulking forward with all the time in the world. Undead shambled and crab walked from the right. Ahead of them lie the Pit, and behind them lay /that/ demonic mound of flesh.
"I have to ask, captain, what do you think your odds are right now?" Noraqqalmud's voice grated his nerves raw. Still, the demon had been a boon so far. "I think we have good odds of taking out that Pit beast on the right before we're cut down, if you can take care of those undead on the left."
Noraqqalmud chuckled, the sound like rocks scraping against each other. "Not our odds, captain, your odds. Your plan is to trade your life to take down one Pit beast, when they advance at us without number?"
Valabalar glanced back annoyed at the demonologist. How dare he do this to him, in front of his men. If they hesitated now, they would all die for nothing. "Unless you have a better idea."
"I do, in fact, but it needs your.. cooperation. Since you're trading your life anyhow, I can ennoble that sacrifice, make it more worthwhile."
The captain turned, pointing his weapon to Noraqqalmud. Gods damnit, the monstrosity looked smug. It pushed it's spectacles up it's face, and touched an amulet around it's chest. "Kuyyangilla, it's time for plan B. Come."
From the amulet lept a beautiful woman, naked from the top down, but warped with the legs of a mule. She smiled at the captain, licking her lips. Valabalar felt his face flush despite himself.
Noraqqalmud spoke to the demon in his gravel voice. "I'd like to sweeten our deal. Increase my boon in exchange for their worship."
The demon spoke with a fire behind her eyes. "Deal."
Noraqqalmud turned to the captain and his men. "Here's my solution." He raised his hand in a gesture, and the platoon began to bleed out from their eyes. Captain Valabalar fell to the sand, blinded, clawing at his face.
"All of you are going to die in the next five minutes. If you do nothing, your soul with either be obliterated entirely, or you'll come back as an undead and be obliterated by the Fuligin in short order. Or, you can pledge your life to this beauty before you, and spend the beginning of your afterlife safe and in ecstasy."
The captain writhed on the ground, coughing up blood. He heard his men screaming behind him in agony.
Noraqqalmud continued. "You'll likely be much better off if you take the option before you. I know you've no reason to trust me, seeing as I've just murdered you all, but I'm not /all/ bad. Please, have a bit of faith."
The demoness spoke with a lilting voice that made the captain's heart flutter, pumping even more blood from every orifice. "I promise to be gentle."
What choice did he have? Captain Valabalar pledged all 4 minutes of his meaningless life to the demoness.
Noraqqualmud smiled at the 20 corpses before him. The demoness had vanished with the souls she had stolen. With a gesture, he animated the lifeless body of the captain and his men, so they stood guard around him. "Come, join me, be legion." To the right, an enemy commander, a vampire, was advancing towards him. He glowered at the vampire and shouted out to him: "What in the Nine Hells took you so long?"
The Court of Void was after her children.
Rindacsa sat cross legged on the floor, barriers staff up. The other esotericists in the FIXME FIXME army had given up on trying to get her attention from outside the barrier. She'd seen them progress from giving her some space to pleading outside her shell, trying to use hand signals to get her attention. She ignored them, and the camp moved forward without her. No matter, she could catch up. She had more important things to tend to.
The Court of Void was after her children.
Somewhere in this mess of Mysteries was the key, she knew. She dare not approach anyone until she knew what they were planning. She new Nas was watching her and the children. She loved him, but she wasn't sure she understood him anymore. She could barely keep up with him while she was given the insight of the Gods. Now, she had no idea what he'd do if something were to happen to her, or to them.
Focus. The Court of Void was after her children.
Unraveling the mysteries of the Nullman was hard, tedious work. The energies were primed to erase all traces of themselves. Already she had been too brash. Even his mysteries reacted to mana, converting energies to Void and nullifying themselves. She was sure she'd already lost details. She had to go slowly, examine every energy with indirection, opposite energies, binding the unstable forces into a persistent form.
Hard boring work, but the Court of Void was after her children.
She traced back through the Nullman's steps. She saw her battle with him. She saw him erasing a platoon of Allied soldiers. She saw him walking through Harkan's troops erasing people indiscriminately as he grew more unstable. She saw him talking to the Nullman Manifest. She saw him talking to a prisoner that never existed.
Something tugged in her stomach. Her mouth went dry.
That prisoner looked like her.
He looked like Nas.
He looked like Nedhui.
No. No no no no nonononono.
The Court of Void had gotten one of her children. She was too late.
Rindacsa reached deep down into her heart, and felt a Void there she hadn't noticed before.
She shattered, and 11 sorcerers poured through the cracks.
----
To: Ghefhardim
From: Haniqua
We have lost Rindacsa. She emerged from her solitude and began attacking friend and foe alike at the front lines. An area of three acres around her has been rendered unrecognizable via strong and powerful magic, and nearby sorcerers are warning that she is adjusting the flow of the leys. The only forces we have that are capable of reaching her within are busy fighting elsewhere. I advise staying out of her way, and treating her like yet another environmental hazard of the Fields.
Noraqqalmud pushed his spectacles back up the bridge of his nose. Yes, everything was going according to plan.
They'd fallen for the act. He'd convinced the Grey commander he'd been waiting for a chance to turn, that since he was going to become a wraith when he died, he could serve the Grey in both life and death. He still had no idea how Kuyyangilla had done that. He'd have to wring that answer from her the next time he saw her.
Now he was marching back towards the front, second in command of an undead contingent, ready to do battle with the Allied forces.
Noraqqalmud smiled as he held the knife behind his back. One of the great burdens of genius was to be lonely, to be constantly misunderstood. He doubted anyone on Shem truly understood his mind. Certainly not the demons he promised passage to the Mortal realm, only to see themselves smashed against fuligin rocks. Certainly not the Allied forces, who were just looking for an excuse to burn him with holy flame while he toiled for their immortal salvation. Certainly not Kuyyangilla, who thought that she had Noraqqalmud under her thumb.
Certainly not the vampire commander he walked alongside, who was convinced that Noraqqalmud had animated those thousands of corpses with undeath magic.
It was easy enough to slip behind the vampire, to reach behind him and stab him in the back. The imp in the blade stirred up the sand underneath the vampire as Noraqqalmud stepped back in mock horror. "The Harkanian forces are turning on us-- attack!" He gave the order.
He'd thought the Alliance would at least stop to wonder why the undead forces before them suddenly turned on the Harkanian forces beside them. But no, no one ever stopped to think. As the bolt of divine light crashed down on Noraqqalmud, he sighed and accepted his fate. There were worse things than death, and those things feared or respected him. He'd be ok in the end.
(Back at camp)
Private Helmand stepped out of the medical tent for the first time since he'd caught an arrow to the chest while helping that abomination Noraqqalmud. He found the tent of faiths, looking for someone who could help him. He stopped a young girl with white blonde and radiant hair.
"Excuse me, do you know where I can find a death priest?"
"Certainly," replied the girl. "He should just be back from the medical tents. Father Bruhail, over here!"
A stocky man in robes and black gloves approached. "What's this now?"
Private Helmand cleared his throat. "I was told to find you, by that demon thing that used to be an elf?" He reached into his pack and pulled out the knife. "He said it had run out of charges and was trash now. He said that while it might be useless to him, it was the most valuable thing I'd ever touch. Asshole. He told me to bring it to you for disposal."
Father Bruhail frowned, taking the demonic knife. "What is--- Mother's mercy! It's filled with souls in agony!" He grabbed private Helmand's shirt. "Where is this demon, I'll kill it myself!"
Private Helmand sputtered incoherently. "I didn't-- I was-- I don't--"
The little girl lifted a hand to the death priest's arm. "We must tend to the souls, Father Bruhail. With our faith together, we can show them mercy and save them from damnation. /Then/ you can speak to the one who did this."
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