Dark Jack

The Prophecy

Threw together a couple of entries that I've been meaning to add to the Compendium, one simply because I felt like it, the other... well, because it's rather relevant to one of the current IC-situations, especially with Ixion apparently being as exceedingly well-informed as he seems to be.

Deo'iel of the sixth circle

More than any other deo'iel - even the higher-ranking members of the seventh circle, who are the leaders of the organization - the members of the sixth circle enjoy a great deal of fame (and infamy) due to just how capable one has to be to earn a place in those ranks, and due to the feats they tend to accomplish in their line of duty. For this reason, however, deo'iel of the sixth circle rarely nourish relationships outside of their order, and just as rarely resort to using their real names out of fear that others may target their families or friends for various reasons. Instead, deo'iel of the sixth circle are almost exclusively known by various monikers; a fact that perhaps only works to grow their legend even further.

The Sisters of Torment
A rare occurrence right from the beginning, being the only known case of demonspawn twins in recorded history, the Sisters of Torment are known to never part from one another and work together exceptionally well. Specializing in the hunting of demons and demonspawn, the sisters are also unusual in that they only qualify for the sixth circle when they work together, whereas they individually would belong to the fourth and fifth circle, respectively. One with the ability to suppress infernal power, the other with the ability to manipulate minerals, they are the single most effective unit in the deo'iel when it comes to fighting demons.

Lord Nightmare
A huge man, supposedly much too large to be human, who always dons a massive suit of black plate armor that leaves no skin exposed, Lord Nightmare is said to be the most powerful out of all deo'iel. Having been witnessed using a great sword and a mighty hammer, and conjuring fireballs and undead minions, all while riding into battle atop reanimated beasts of war, he is supposedly capable of killing anything that gets in his way... and willing to remove any obstacle that gets between him and his quarry. Whenever the deo'iel encounters something no one else can handle - or when a member of the sixth circle deserts - Lord Nightmare is called in to clean up the mess.

Master Archangel
A specialist in situations where in the target poses a great and immediate threat to something that needs to be defended, Master Archangel is a Nightwalker with a great deal of experience in summoning magic, and with the allegiance of at least two separate archangels, which he has been observed as being able to summon consecutively without falling to magical exhaustion. While Master Archangel is rarely seen doing much work personally, his archangel allies possess great power to protect, heal and destroy.

The Thunderer
If there is a very dangerous target that is either extremely durable, such as an especially aggressive and powerful troll or an elder dragon, or that has occupied a hard-to-infiltrate habitat (that is not a priority to preserve), chances are that the Thunderer might show up. This penin engineer and alchemist is a woman with a fiery temper, and a inclination towards explosions. Has an outstanding record when it comes to dispatching targets swiftly, but tends to be rather careless when it comes to avoiding damage to her surroundings... in fact more often than not, the Thunderer is liable to cause as much or greater destruction than the monster she was meant to kill.

The White Warrior
A human man in silver plate armor, wielding a silver shield and an enchanted sword, the White Warrior is a formidable anti-magical champion who is known to show up whenever a particularly nasty rogue summoner, necromancer or witch starts causing havoc. Having demonstrated a great deal of knowledge and skill when it comes to facing magical adversaries and generally dealing with magical threats, he is known to be a reliable - if somewhat flashy - agent of the deo'iel... and one that enjoys being in the center of attention.

Waking Dreamer's Disorder

An extremely rare condition - found in less than one out of three million creatures born, and acquired only at birth - the so-called Waking Dreamer's Disorder is an incurable affliction that has no apparent trigger and, if a hereditary trait is affiliated with it, it appears to be so rare that relation between cases are almost never discovered.
The effect of the disorder, in all simplicity, is that the afflicted being is born with an unbreakable connection to the Spirit Realm that, contrary to what the name of the disorder suggests, does not cause the afflicted to dream while awake, but rather perpetually siphon magical energy from the Spirit Realm to Reniam. While many mages envy those born with the Waking Dreamer's Disorder for this ability, as it allows such individuals to - apparently - passively experience a rapid growth of the capacity of their souls over the course of their lives, as well as just as passively replenish their magical reserves whenever they tap into them, the afflicted who appreciate their condition are by far the minority.
While the above perks are related to the disorder, most who are more intimately familiar with it would conclude that they are far outweighed by the disadvantages. Very few afflicted survive for more than several days after birth, for a start, and practically no afflicted belonging to species that do not practice magic, such as animals or tarken. This is because of the continuous and relentless siphoning of magical energy into the soul of the afflicted, which - unlike that which occurs during regular dreaming - continues regardless of whether the soul of the afflicted is already at maximum capacity or not. Neglecting to address this constant flow of energy into the afflicted bears results similar to those of heavy piaan-usage; under-compensating will result in the growth of the body and the degradation of the mind of the afflicted, and severe negligence will inevitably cause the afflicted to perish from sheer oversaturation of magical energy, similar to how one would die from an overdose of piaan.
The compensation necessary for an afflicted to be able to live with the Waking Dreamer's Disorder is obviously to constantly drain their own magical energy, which is the true cause of their "passively" increasing capacity to store magical energy. It should further be noted that afflicted are not spared the health-degrading effects of such continuous drainage, either, and even afflicted who were allowed to vent their surplus magical energy from the day of their birth are unlikely to live long lives, as their health will degrade at a rate as fast as the growth of the capacity of their souls.

The Prophecy

The Duchy of Zerul, by a road in southwest

Jaelnec was not able to erase his concerned expression entirely, even as he turned to face the foreigners introducing themselves to them, but kept furrowing his brow even as he smiled at the strangers uncertainly. Domhnall and Iridiel? What, exactly, were these two? The fact that they were apparently cautious about the Crusader's Guild probably meant that they, as some aspects of their appearance suggested, were not human, but Jaelnec had no idea just what race they were supposed to belong to, nor where in the world they could possibly come from. Still, they seemed civil enough to introduce themselves, so he figured that he had better follow Aemoten's example and introduce himself as well.
Despite having made the decision to do so, the Nightwalker still hesitated, though, as he realized that there were several things that needed to be considered just then. The first thing that came to mind was one that struck him as stupid, yet somehow as a valid concern: should be bow to them? Iridiel in particular seemed to possess a certain regality on top of her being a woman and a healer, which seemed to demand at least a modicum of respect and good manners, but was there any way that they could misunderstand the gesture if he bowed to them? They were clearly from a foreign country, after all, and there was no telling what cultural differences might be between here and there. Not long ago he would never even have given the possibility a thought, but after having traveled with Aemoten for a while - a foreigner who had lived in Rodoria for years, and who was fluent in Rodorian - he had started realizing that many gestures and expressions that he had never given might thought were not as universal as he originally assumed they were. It was small things, like Aemoten subtly reacting to a comment about someone getting out of their hair, but it was enough to make the squire aware that there was a difference. This Domhnall apparently knew enough to know who the Crusader's Guild were, and to speak Rodorian quite well... it should be all right. Even if they misunderstood somehow, it could be explained.
The other thing that he realized needed consideration was how he was actually going to introduce himself. What was his decision from back then? Was he still a Squire of the Will and perhaps fated to remain one such forever, being unable to ever restore his knighthood, or would he take the title of Knight of the Will for himself, though undeserved, and enable himself to rebuild? In the end he decided to stick with being a squire, at least until they got to Zerul City and had a chance to figure out where Thaler's grandfather was. After all, there was no reason to violate the traditions of the knighthood if there really was a Knight of the Will left to Test himself against.
Throwing his left arm backwards and to the side and holding his right one to his chest, Jaelnec bowed elegantly for the first time in what felt like a lifetime. "I am Squire Jaelnec of the Will. We are grateful for your assistance, and for your hospitality." It was hardly their little piece of ground with a bit of trees on, but they were there first. It only seemed like the polite thing to do to extend some kind of thanks for letting them stay.

He turned back to Aemoten, concern once more dominating his features. "Shall I go tell the others that we'll be staying here for a few hours?" He did not like leaving Aemoten alone with these strangers, helpful though they had been, especially in his current state, but they could not very well leave Thaler and Olan waiting by the road forever either. Besides, the Sekalyn still had Etakar protecting him... and, as he had to remind himself of now that he knew, he could not actually be killed. That idea would probably take some time getting used to.

The Prophecy

Don't worry, Ashgan, I didn't mean to hurry on you particularly, and it certainly wasn't my intention to make you feel bad about anything. I just interpreted your last OOC-post as meaning that it would perhaps be nice to have a reminder. Take your time and come back with zeal and vigor when you have it.

The Prophecy

@Ashgan...? Should I be concerned about the grim reaper being kept this busy?

I'll try to get to writing a post as Jaelnec soon.

The Prophecy

Zerul City, the Drunken Dove

"Quite a bit," the innkeeper replied, falling back into his line of duty much faster this time around as I'on brought up the most profitable aspect of his business. "I've got most of the local fare, of course, but we get lots of merchants coming through here, so I have some imports, too. I've got a few bottles of fancy deigan booze from the south, too, but I'm sure you'd be more interested in the barrel of penin Finest out back. Can I get you any?"

The deo'iel, meanwhile, paid no mind to the interaction between penin and innkeeper, but seemed more concerned with their conversation with Ixion and Morgan.
"Well, it's not like we'd know for sure whether he can disguise his magical energy," the blue haired one shrugged, smiling apologetically as she wrapped her finger even more tightly in the tuft of hair and replaced her periodic yanking with a sustained pull. "You need to be much closer to feel that, after all, and demonspawn don't feel it as strongly as full mortals do. It's not foreign to us, after all; we have the same energy inside ourselves."
She sighed, then continued: "But I can make an informed guess and say that he probably can disguise his soul, too. The demonspawn whose powers he stole to be able to hide like this wasn't discovered for forty years... and not only that, she was able to pass as a Paladin of Liya, and could even invoke Favored power as one. She even had children! She put herself in the center of attention, yet no one had the slightest suspicion of her true nature."
"When he stole her powers," the other deo'iel continued, "we hoped that he would need time to learn to use his new powers; that we could find him before he became undetectable. But apparently he learns fast. He may be as good at disguising himself as Himyth herself by now... he could be with us in this very room, and we would never realize until it was too late."

When the time came for Ixion to explain his injury, the effect of his words was quite evident on the two demonspawn. The blue-haired suddenly forgot about the self-mutilation she was engaged in, letting her tuft of hair escape her grasp but leaving her hand in front of her face, as she stared intently at Ixion. When he described the magic that had inflicted his wound, the masked and hooded sister cocked her head left, her eyes narrowing in thought.
"I... I don't even know what's stranger about what you just said," the blue-haired one chuckled nervously. "The fact that you know who the Fixer is and still feel comfortable mentioning him so casually, or that a guardsman was hunting him. Why would he think you were the Fixer? No, more importantly: how did you convince him you weren't?"
"Cutting with light..." the other sister muttered to herself, seemingly fascinated with the prospect. "How much did it hurt?"

The Prophecy

Eh, would you like me to wait for you before posting for the deo'iel, Rhaevnn?

Also, Ashgan?

The Prophecy

*cough*
Post? Maybe? Someone?

The Prophecy

The Duchy of Zerul, off a road in the southwest

It was a strangely nostalgic feeling, somehow, to just sit idly by while another took care of business, assuming the role of curious observer set to learn what he could simply by leeching off the experience of better men. Even after having been a leader himself, even for a short time and furthermore arguably not a very good one, it still surprised the squire how easy it was to fall back into the habit of being the apprentice following his master, only now his role doubled as that of a bodyguard. He had always followed in Freagon's shadow and watched him to learn, certainly, but he had never needed - or indeed been allowed to - step in to aid his late master. It was easy to dismiss his awe at the thought of Freagon as nothing but reverence for a dead idol, his memory of the knight exaggerated when viewed through the goggles of sentimentality, but his emotions could not erase the facts he knew to be true, which were the past deeds of his master; many of which he himself had witnessed.
Even now, as Jaelnec's thoughts wandered as he relaxed, growing more comfortable with these strangers' presence, he could not help but to be stricken with a sense of inferiority and futility at the thought of Freagon. The Knighthood of the Will had never had a more powerful champion, he was sure of it.

He felt comfortable enough to indulge in a little self-reflection exactly because he felt more comfortable around these strangers, seeing that they not only opted to avoid demonstrating any significant hostility, but were also downright helpful, freely offering to heal the giant, fearsome beast of a companion that was Etakar, despite of this clearly putting the healer in a very compromised situation; something she, by the way she approached the dekkun, was evidently aware of. It was admirably selfless, and they immediately gained the Nightwalker's respect for it, as well as some measure of trust.
But the trust he was able to put in these strangers was ultimately limited, at best; it was not that he did not have faith that they were fundamentally good people - as far as he was concerned their actions had already proven this beyond reasonable doubt - but that his recent experiences told him that even good people could do bad things. Like the lieutenant back at the border post; he had been so generous and accommodating to them when they first arrived there that he could not possibly accept the thought of him having had sinister motives from the start, yet he had still been an accomplice to the crimes committed by the treacherous Death Clan-member who served as his second-in-command. And even now, he still had no idea what or who the great black-furred beast was, or if it was even intelligent... or how they had managed to bring down the lohk.
That was probably the most deeply disturbing and most horrendous crime of the agents of evil, he figured: to use those who only wanted to do good to further their own dark agendas... to corrupt the pure and innocent.
To turn paladins of life into demons.

It was not until the newly encountered foreign man commented on Aemoten's state that Jaelnec became aware of it himself, and inadvisable as he found it for the only one of them capable of fighting to be distracted from a potential threat, the squire nevertheless turned in his saddle to face the Sekalyn, only now realizing how far his condition seemed to have deteriorated.
He frowned, concerned and worried, but for more than one reason. Sure, a large part of him was deeply bothered by the fact that his leader and friend was suffering like this, but another part of him detachedly reminded him that Aemoten had told him that he could not actually die, and that every day they were delayed in completing their quest to end the Withering meant the loss of more innocent lives and souls. The squire in him weighed one life against hundreds, if not thousands, and found that staying to rest was a bad idea, but the person he was at his core wanted Aemoten to get better, and for that the primary condition was sleep. Magical energy was almost exclusively restored when sleeping, he knew, and the body could not even begin its recovery until the soul was recharged.

He somewhat clumsily managed to get off his horse and hurried to the other's side. "You're barely able to stay in the saddle," he said, reaching up to steady Aemoten. He paused for a second, unsure where he was going with this. "Is there anything I can do?"

The Prophecy

Zerul City, the Drunken Dove

The blue-haired demonspawn stared intently at Ixion as he spoke, seeming extremely interested up until the point where he stated that his most recent clue was a month old, and placed Gaath in the opposite end of Rodoria. Once she realized that he had no information more recent than that, she was evidently disappointed.
"When we say that Gaath gained the ability to conceal his aura from us recently," she clarified demurely as he hand seemed to rise to her hair on its own accord, seize a tuft of it and start pulling it anew, "we mean that we were able to track him by his presence until just a couple of days ago. We are not in Zerul by chance; we know that he's either been here, or is still here." She sighed. "He's going to be impossible to find at this rate. He's killing more and more rarely, and with the power to shapeshift and disguise his presence..."
"He could be anywhere," the other deo'iel commented grimly.
Her sister nodded her head. "We have no choice but to leave and report our failure, then, so other deo'iel can be sent to track him. Ones that aren't demonspawn." She shook her head in resignation. "He can sense us, but we can't sense him, and we can't risk him stealing our powers. Especially my sister's."

"I have one more question," the shrouded demonspawn said, stopping her blue-haired sister who was about to walk away. She nodded at Ixion, then cocked her head right. "I have to know how you got that wound on your shoulder. It almost looks like a fire-cut..."

The Prophecy

Yeah, I suspected as much. One more time, though, just to be sure that he notices: @Ashgan, let us know you're still around, okay?