Osveril will likely take issue with something close to a void-zone being filled with colourful dreamscapes. It does try to be as open-minded about creation as necessary, but some things simply can't be justified... I wouldn't put it beyond the Absolute to try and "correct" the Piktaraika once it discovers it (likely without much success). A direct encounter with Ilunabar would indeed be interesting, especially after such a discovery. We shall see what opportunities present themselves once it comes into being, I suppose.
As of late, there has been devised a plan for Osveril to emerge as the result of Jvan's experiments. While this leaves the Void That Is outside the Orb storyline for the time being, it would now be easier for Niciel to become involved in the process or observe it, if you wish, as it is not necessary for her to discover clues to Teknall's schemes by some improbable means. A visit to the All-Beauty could align with her present goals directly enough.
Though often viewed as a trait in its own right, purity is, at its core, a negation. Indeed, one would struggle to even describe it in terms of assertion. Purity is freedom from taint and corruption, or, more broadly, anything extraneous to a being. It is the absence of alteration. One who achieves its ideal is, strictly speaking, not so much pure as devoid of impurity, a condition paradoxically (purity must, after all, normally be attributed to something, as it cannot exist independently) more difficult to define than the concept itself. It is often unclear where purity ends and mutilation begins. Transformations and modifications can affect something to such an extent that they cease to be external influences and become part of it, and a victim of extensive corruption or mutation may, at some point, become an altogether different being, for whom they are not as abnormal. Furthermore, the question presents itself whether change and new creation, perhaps the greatest aberration of all, are to be considered impure; and therefore of whether purity is something barren and sterile, born only of suppression and destruction.
These and other uncertainties plague something which appears at first glance unsoiled by ambiguity and confusion. The duty of the Hollow Absolute includes finding answers to them, just as it does enforcing purity upon the world. Within itself, Osveril carries an archetype of the concept, which constantly shifts and evolves as the demigod observes the universe and reaches new conclusions about how it should be. The Absolute has the power to measure all that it perceives against this internal value, determining how close it is to the ideal of purity, and transforming objects, living beings and even environments to reflect it. Changes affecting especially vast or enduring subjects may manifest as a gradual twisting and withering rather than an instantaneous transfiguration.
The greatest tool at the Hollow Absolute's disposal, as well as the most stable and basic constant it can rely upon, is complete emptiness. Nothing is as pure as the void, which is an absence not only of change and corruption, but of potential for them as well, and, indeed, nothing other than the void is absolutely pure. Interestingly, in its lack of everything, the void embodies that very barrenness that seems to shackle the concept of purity, binding the quest for the true ideal in place. However, Osveril sees in it not a forced stasis, but a path to be followed to achieve flawlessness in all its possible and impossible forms.
Alignment: Lawful Evil. Though not actively malicious or ill-intentioned, Osveril's incapability to compromise and disregard of anything beyond its goals place it at odds with all that does not conform to its ever-changing standards or, worse yet, disagrees with its vision.
Personality:
As incongruous as its domain, Osveril is mainly defined by its unwavering, dogmatic devotion to a fickle and inconstant principle. Thorough and systematic in all things, the Absolute balances correcting and guiding the transformations of its internal standards and mercilessly judging everything it encounters. It does not think of itself as an individual, but as a force existing with the sole aim of bringing about a cosmic restoration of sorts. Osveril is almost physically incapable of considering the universe and its inhabitants as anything else than a chaos of impurities and imperfections which must be purged and healed, and devotes itself with utmost zeal to what it is convinced is its sacred duty before its own existence. Purity is both its own authority and its own reward; and any obstacle in its way is, by definition, corrupt.
As it could be expected, such a mindset tends to bring about frequent conflicts with those who would rather not submit to Osveril's cleansing. The Absolute does not even regard their opposition as misguided or malicious, as it does not consider the thoughts and actions of other entities to be on a level comparable to its own. Rather, those are mere flaws of the mind, which can and must be removed as expeditely as those of the body. Nonetheless, when dealing with beings capable of rational thought, Osveril prefers not to resort to violence unless it is inevitable. It attempts instead to persuade them of the mistaken nature of their views, as it finds the notion of an intelligence, however inferior, accepting purity by its own choice supremely intriguing. In such interactions, the Absolute's ineptitude in reasoning in conventional terms becomes clear. It appears obtuse and arrogant, refusing to consider even for a moment that its position might not be the only acceptable one in spite of any argument against it. Should these attempts fail, as they are wont to do, it has no qualms about forcefully distorting unwilling subjects into its own image of perfection.
For all its blind adherence to its self-imposed calling, Osveril is remarkably creative as concerns purity itself. Fully conscious that any image it has of it as yet is incomplete and flawed, it delights in experimenting with physical and abstract objects and entities, warping or contaminating them with partial non-existence. While it rationalises this as progress towards discovering the true ideal, it secretly relishes in satisfying its creative urges - perhaps an unconscious reaction to the stigma of sterility, perhaps the only aspect of its being not subordinate to all-assimilating obligation.
Appearance:
Osveril's physical form is reminiscent of those of most humanoid beings, having two arms, an equal number of legs and a head protruding from a central body, but that is where similarities with many of them end. Standing taller than most humans and perfectly symmetrical in all of its parts, it appears as though formed out of angular, three-dimensional geometric forms. Its torso and abdomen are many-faceted polyhedrons, one larger than the other; its limbs rectangular cuboids joined by segmented articulations; its feet truncates pyramids; its hands prisms in the shape of long, sharp claws. The Absolute's head takes the form of a trapezoidal prism, on whose front, despite its featurelessness, there seems to be a triangular mask flanked by two rows of small, circular holes on its two sides.
The whole is fashioned out of a dull grey material, which, despite visually resembling metal, seems strangely organic and skin-like to the touch. All its surfaces are smooth and flawless, and even adhesive substances cannot cling to it. It is unclear whether this is Osveril's true body or a suit of armour, but the Absolute is never seen in any other guise, lending credence to the former.
Description:
Osveril is a strange being, seeking to bring purity to the world despite being fully aware of it own imperfect nature. For all its internal contradictions, however, it is a rather substantial danger to most things it sets its eyeless sight upon. Its cleansing quest is for most the brutal imposition of an alien will upon their reality; despite its sincere desire for improvement, or perhaps because of it, only desolation and sinister anomalies remain in its wake. While it is not entirely impossible to reason with it, inducing the Absolute to reconsider anything is incredibly difficult. All things considered, it is not vicious or cruel. It is not hostile towards beings mortal or divine, even when they interfere with its work - after all, any mind can be tainted, and its task is to heal, not to destroy. And yet, it remains oblivious to the pain and horror it may cause, reasoning that any who find issue with its doing must be imperfect. The Void That Is is a perilous presence, for, like its namesake, it has no regard or respect for anything, and threatens to consume all in is unthinking progress.
@Oraculum I will want you to have at least one story arc in mind for your characters after your CS is done - you might want to discuss it here once your CS is done (if you want anyone else to be involved in it) or you can just post the idea if it's largely self-RPing.
Perhaps @Slime or [@Bright-Ops] might be interested in doing something with you. Or even @Jarl Coolgruuf if/once his character is accepted. And of course, any of the other players (who I don't mention because they've all got pretty established plots from what I can tell, into which you can easily jump if you so wished).
For a beginning, I intend to have my character wander about for some time after its creation (as well as, naturally, remaining involved with the process the latter may have been part of), partly on a quest of self-discovery of sorts, partly to assess the state of the world and devise plans for its eventual attempts at purification. Of course, I am entirely open to it chancing upon the characters of whomever is willing to collaborate on an encounter, such as perhaps, as mentioned, other roving demigods, or even heroes or assorted mortals.
Welcome aboard, sir. I don't have many ideas for my next post yet, so if you feel like making a collab with me just hit me up. My characters can't take part on the creation of your character itself, but gods have a tendency of leaving their children wander off on their own after they're born so we could arrange something a meeting after he's created.
I am most eager to establish some interactions. Such a meeting would work quite well with what I have in mind for my initial arc, and we could arrange for it to occur once the latter starts.
Hmm, you could have @Scarifar's Niciel dabble with the Orbs of Darkness Julk left behind. Maybe your demi manifests itself after the orb unexpectedly succs in some of Niciel's essence, and by the mysterious magics of RPing, poof, out comes a demigod.
An idea off the top of my head after glancing at the Domain/Port you wanted.
EDIT: This could actually make Niciel somewhat relevant to a current storyline that @Antarctic Termite, @Kho, and @Muttonhawk have going on.
EDIT2: I don't actually think Kho was part of that storyline now... Who was it that went with Toun inside Jvan's cavities again? When Toun and Jvan were going all emo and shit.
Something along those lines could happen at some point - if not as part of the immediate process (though it might as well be, depending on what this process is - something I shall see to clarifying via PM), it could be nonetheless connected with it, or, through the demigod's mediation (even if coming into being through different means, it would be drawn to investigate Niciel and the Orbs alike, given their connection to its own domain), to the storyline at large, though I unfortunately do not yet know enough about its more recent developments to conjecture how it might be affected.
Our god of Darkness(Shadows) died very early on, so it would be interesting if somebody actually took Darkness up and explored it. Darkness(Voids) could definitely work as a Domain(Portfolio). You mention Purity. That is also rather interesting - though I struggle to see how it can be translated into something workable. But from your words that seems to be the challenge you're setting yourself. So a god of Purity would certainly be interesting and challenging. I would enjoy seeing where you take it.
I believe I shall go with Purity (Void) for the demigod's domain and portfolio after all. I had some ideas for Darkness, but they can be adapted without too much trouble to fit this concept, for which I have a few other plans besides. It is, admittedly, not the most straightforward to work with, but I feel it has plenty of potential. As for parentage, there appears to be a possible origin in the form of Jvan's own experimenting with that portfolio (the specifics of it being, as I understand, at @Antarctic Termite's discretion).
Unless there is something else that must be seen to, I'll shortly get to working on the character proper.
Shifting most of his weight onto his staff as he intently listened to the General's replies and his companions' additions, Ulor plunged the hooked claws of his mind into the river of words flowing into and past him, clutching on to those which he perceived to be most distinctly related to his plight. Some were clearly visible to him, akin to smooth, oval black stones borne along by the stream; yet a few were more diaphanous, more difficult to spot and capture in the current. That speech of envenomers and infiltrating acolytes might not immediately have struck him as particularly interesting, but, as he reflected on it, it seemed to gain in importance moment by moment. While he may have been unable to reach for the concealed forces directly, he could still touch their intermediaries, and learn from them the lore necessary to uncover this occult mystery.
Then came the three names - the Serpent, the Sea and the Worm. Catching hold of them, Ulor began the descent he had been preparing since he had queried the General on the presence of cults and religions in the city. He climbed down into a hexagonal well, grasping the ledges and shelves built into its walls as with multiple limbs, as he sounded deeper and deeper layers of his memory in search of answers to the interrogatives those esoteric titles brought with themselves. The bestial invoker had spoken of a sect of Venomers, and those were with the Serpent, for indeed there was one such being who lurked in the shadows and spread his poison with dripping fang. The Serpent's adversary was the Worm, yet not just any worm. It was a Worm divine and potent, one of wind and fire; and likely it lacked the malice of the Serpent, for which the latter would fain have struck at it. If this was true, it could be none but the Worm-father.
Last was the Sea, ally of the Serpent; and this was more arduous, for the sea was vast, and was many things at once. For this, his mere memories would not suffice. Further down Ulor crept, until there began to appear from below wisps of a pale mist which brought knowledge and clarity from an unsoundable abyss within him. He swept up these nebulous strands, and saw that the Sea could take on the shape of a twisted Hag. He swept again, and saw the aquatic wilderness that knew no fetters, the presence which flew over the murky deeps on wings of wood, and two watery beasts, one of which had a hide encrusted with salt. He swept a third time, and now the mist was no longer pale, but of a dim grey; and he saw the sinister lord of the deep, the trident that shook the lands, the reptile with its toothy grin and the fulminating tempest cloud. Over them, there dimly appeared the coils of the Serpent; and the Deep One rose to meet him, and the beast with the salty mane, the trident and the storm-cloud followed suit, for it was their nature to partake in wickedness or destruction. Now he knew, or, at least, he could guess.
Returning his attention to his surroundings, Ulor briefly glanced around the room, then, raising his gaze, which had in his meditations slid downwards, to meet that of the General, he spoke:
"Do not be hasty to dismiss the words of the touched, for in them there might lie the key to the riddle. While I cannot know for certain, from what you have said alone I divine that venom calls upon the water to extinguish the flame. This is well, but it is not enough. It would be good if we could speak with the convict himself at some later point, so that his altered thoughts may be sounded. But it is true that this is not as urgent as other matters."
Raising himself from his partially hunched position, Ulor began to turn, without undue haste, towards the door. Though he had not said anything aloud, or even gestured, at the same time the octopus detached itself from its corner and swam down, in its peculiar way, to rest upon his shoulder once again.
I recommend that you read the opening post if you haven't already, and the Summary in the second OOC post. The summary goes up to page 13, so when you finish it you can continue by reading each post's summary from page 14 onward. We also have a wiki that has some cool stuff that you can check out (link under FAQs). With that out of the way, you can discuss your character ideas here - you can create a demigod (that's what most people tend to go for), but you are also welcome to create a hero or even a normal mortal - if that's your thing. (Though if you go for a mortal, be aware that a mortal's lifetime is very short and could be over quickly if there's a time skip.) If you want a demigod, it would be a good idea - during this OOC ideas phase - to see which god/s you would like to be his/her/its parents. Once done, you may begin working on a Character Sheet and submit it here. You will generally get some feedback on the initial sheet here from both GMs and other players. Once all that is done, the GMs will retire to consider your character sheet and either accept or reject it.
I have indeed acquainted myself with the introductory posts, and am now making my way through the story so far. Someday (someday...) I will probably get to the wiki, as well.
As for character creation, I was envisioning a demigod. My fundamental idea would be for it(?) to have power over a domain commonly seen as sterile or negative, in the sense of involving absence or privation of some sort - possibilities I am considering include such things as the void, darkness, some interpretations of purity - and attempting to overcome its inherent limitations in order to create something from it. Concerning its parents, I suppose I should first decide on the most basic details. Thus far, Toun strikes me as a fairly appropriate candidate theme-wise, but ultimately I believe it would be better to determine this later on so as for it to make the most sense. Or the least, depending on what would work better for the story.
Ey Leute! This seems as good a time as any other for introductions, and thus I appear. Having glimpsed this thread now and then, and eventually grown interested enough to crawl my way through most of the IC (I will admit, heavily relying on the summaries, at least for the moment), I found it to be something I in which would greatly enjoy participating, and now come to ask if there may still be some place for my humble self in here.
That said, I have just now become most inopportunely busy. While I am still very much active (and thus not just pointlessly cluttering the thread with this), my first contributions here, if they are to come anytime soon, may be somewhat slow. I realise this note makes this a rather ungainly first post, but hopefully it is not so bad as to call for too terrible a punishment (or is it?).
As he passed by the guardsmen and into the building, Ulor threw a sinister glance at the captain, briefly reshaping his lingering illusion into three pairs of hovering, eye-like spheres of darkness and green flame which gazed malignantly at him before fading. This tiresome man had proved a nuisance for long enough, and it was much to his good fortune that the primal invoker had stepped forth with a credible document. His unsubtle attempt at soliciting bribery, irritatingly pointless as it was, would have yielded him something very different from gold. But, at last, his power to provide an obstacle had ceased, and he could be consigned to the inchoate abyss of oblivion. The path was clear, and the transterrene quest beckoned.
Having followed the vexingly enthusiastic gnome and stepped into the chamber within, he rapidly appraised his surroundings with an indifferent sweeping look, briefly fixating on the General's figure and the surface of the desk before reverting to his usual vacuous stare as he stood leaning upon his staff. He appeared oblivious to the greetings, as though having sunken into a new chasm of darkling meditation. However, he abruptly returned to animation as soon as he noticed the teacups being filled, deftly lifting one of them and withdrawing with it. As though divining his thoughts, the octopus contracted its tentacles, then stretched them out to its full length, propelling itself up from Ulor's shoulder. Strikingly, however, it did not arce downwards and collapse to the floor in a viscid mound, but remained preternaturally suspended in the air, slightly waving its limbs, akin to one of its mollusc kin afloat in the oceanic waters. It careened over forwards, bringing itself into a horizontal position, and writhed forth a few steps, seemingly swimming through the air as though it were liquid.
Transferring the hold on the cup to two of the fingers otherwise clutched around the staff, Ulor reached out with his now free hand and, seizing a hold of his familiar's globular body, gently turned it over at a sharp angle, in such a manner as to place it with its head downwards, its tentacles still oscillating with their tips towards the ceiling. Then, holding the cup over the creature, he carefully poured its contents into the latter's beak. The octopus seemed to swell as it drew in the tea, though that could just as well have been an illusion caused by its vibrating motions; then, once the transferral was complete, it redressed itself and floated upwards, to the higher end of one of the walls, where it attached itself to the stone surface and remained watching the room from its newfound vantage position.
After having thus employed the time other members of the party had spent questioning the General, Ulor turned to the official himself, speaking out in a harsh half-whisper.
"Pillars that whisper appear from the night unending. Strange forces are at work, and they must be sounded. But first... What divine orders do there reside in this city?" As he awaited the General's reply, he prepared to delve into his memory, evoking the remembrance of his days as an acolyte of the god and the knowledge on religious sects he had learned in the gloomy halls and libraries of his youth. It might have been they could prove useful to him presently, after all.
The vision Ulor had conjured had performed well in putting most of those present to flight. Their haste stood testament to how little they knew of the world they knew beyond the minute luminous circles if their lives. They were insignificant islands - no, they all were on a single island, surrounded by the dark ocean of unguessed revelations, where dwelt those things of which the illusion was but the palest shadow. Evidently, even that was too much for them to bear. All the better they should be gone; that parade of their had already gruellingly wasted enough time already. Yet, he noted with some irritation, those whom the image was intended to frighten did not appreciate the urgency of his omen well enough. Their leader had somehow been able to see through the enchantment, and, for some reason, assumed that this invalidated what Ulor had said before. The obtuseness of this man seemed proportionate to the sharpness of his eyes. Sweeping his hand as though to wave aside the guardsman's sword, tugging at the threads of the image with his mental grip to cause it to fade, he began in an impatient tone:
"I do not threaten, I foretell. I said that if we do not speak with your-"
At that point, however, the feline acrobat thought well to interpose herself between him and the obstinate armiger, seemingly attempting some sort of trickery to dismiss his impression of hostility and make him vacate the doorway at last. While he appreciated any attempt to hasten the tedious procedure, he was slightly taken aback when she motioned for him to produce a document to persuade their obstacle. This improvisation seemed to him mighty improbable; however, far be it from him to decline any stratagem to finally enter that building.
Thrusting his hand into the folds of his cloak as though to reach for something he had stored in there, Ulor deftly snatched up the weave of the illusion, which, though no longer visible, had not yet completely dissipated. Swiftly drawing it into his grip, he hastily wove it, his mind scurrying and snapping like a spider, into the likeness of a parchment, somewhat weathered and frayed at the edges, covered in cramped handwriting (all the better, since greater clarity would likely have immediately revealed it to be complete gibberish) and bearing a bright, but oddly indistinct seal. Drawing forth his hand, he deftly held forth the insubstantial document, skilfully following the motions he invisibly directed. Or, at least, he attempted to do so. The result was likely not something any conjurer would have been proud of.
Irrespective of the renewed illusion's efficacy, Ulor would not declare himself defeated just yet. "Here is that safe-conduct. Now, do not tarry further. Your superior will be growing impatient to see us, and the looming calamities that menace us are not about to make themselves disappear."
Ulor reshapes the Silent Image into the form of a supposed document.
As it could have been foreseen, the green tiefling had not accomplished anything useful in conversing with the dragonborn, in spite of his advice, and it was only when the paladin - Talionis, was it not? - arrived to unsubtly threaten the orator that something was finally achieved. As he glanced over the parchment that the doom-crier had proffered, Ulor slowly nodded in satisfaction. The indication that some sort of ritual, presumably connected with the goals he was pursuing, was to be held in a cathedral promised much - after all, who knew better than himself what secrets a religious order might conceal, knowingly or not? Once already he had been set upon the path of wisdom by partaking in what was to be a holy rite; it could very well be this might occur again. Noticing that the octopus was vacuously peering at the manuscript, likely incapable of deciphering it, he let the awareness of what he had learned flow through the aether-suspended river of thoughts and into the creature's consciousness, the information nebulously coalescing into indistinct visions within its awareness, until he felt that it knew. For now, they could let the matter rest - the ceremony, whatever it was, would not be held anytime soon in the day, and presently they could devote themselves to finding this general they had been directed to converse with.
It so happened that this errand was more easily accomplished than Ulor might have thought, if only in a literal sense. Anon, the group had reached the path of the parade, and a military commander, matching the description of their contact they had been given, came riding at the head of his resplendent troops and the exultant populace. He was, however, unattainable, being separated from the group by the thick of the festivities. And what festivities these were. Blades flashing, arrows flying, mages squandering their art - or the favour of their divine masters, no less - on conjuring tricks, townsfolk cheering, and all manner of other nuisances. Wincing and grinding his teeth together, Ulor brought a half-clenched hand to his forehead, as though afflicted by a headache. And he might as well have been. The dusty winds of insubstantial revelry, celebrating fleeting constructions of temporal insubstantiality, were howling and screeching around him, at him. The wrath! What were they celebrating, after all? Their independence - no, the independence of their forebears - from wizards? How could they believe this had any consequence? They were the blind spark of infinitesimal conflagrations.
He felt the octopus tighten its grip upon his shoulder and lightly sway upon it, as though to warn him of something. Recovering his bearings, Ulor saw that the feline creature was holding out towards him one of the parchment-bound arrows. He nodded absently at her as he took it, and, briefly running his eyes through its contents - "Splendid Sundries"? What was that even supposed to be? - slid it into his backpack, arrow and all. Perhaps it, as well, might have been a sign of some sort, and these sundries might have been worth searching. But that would come later. The clouds were dispersing; more and more of the townsfolk disappeared. However, so did the general, who withdrew into some building and inconveniently left part of his retinue to prevent the curious from following him.
As he stood, at some distance, considering how to bypass the sentinels, Ulor noticed the singing imp oddly walking - swaying? - before the rest of the party. Frowning, he exchanged a perplexed gaze with the octopus (who seemed unconcerned by the display). Who was that directed at, now? Yet such idle questions vanished from his mind when he saw that the guards' attention had been drawn to the tiefling as a result of her performance. Inane though they might have been, her motions gave him a perfect opportunity for action. Now the time was right.
Crossing the gap between himself an the guards in a few strides, Ulor reached into a fold of his cloak, fingering some scraps of loose fleece. Words of a language lost to the cold oblivion of infinity came to his mouth as his fingers twisted in ritual gestures of secret potency. N'uraith vuul iyhh... The air behind him seemed to warp and twist in unearthly spasms, then darkened as a horrid sight took shape from emptiness. Over his shoulders there rose to a height of a good ten feet what seemed to be a nimbus of swirling motes of viscous darkness, undulating oozingly as dripping tendrils lashed and grasped blindly all across its surface. Crimson stains that might have been eyes flowed from one shape to another as animated quicksilver, successively engulfed by the shadows yet emerging again and again. All the while, not a sound came from the towering horror.
Now standing before the guards, the hideous vision looming behind his back, Ulor spoke in low accents, laden with crawling menace:
"Step aside, and let us to your master. We come bearing tidings he will wish to hear, and if you delay us..."
He gestured abruptly and uttered a single, almost inhuman sound, and the reverberations of distant thunder could be heard from somewhere behind the dark shape.
"...then dire things may come to pass."
Ulor casts Silent Image to conjure a frightening illusion, and Prestidigitation to evoke the sound of thunder.
Lord Zee
Cyclone