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Power
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Mar 11, 2021 13:37
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vorebane posted:Neither power or conviction is worthy without an understanding of the Boundaries of what is. Interesting point. Boundaries.
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Mar 11, 2021 20:51
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Boundaries
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Mar 16, 2021 17:18
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You enter... (5) [Two of Swords] ...the Mouth of Boundaries (1) (3) Tally: Six Experiences, Three Beats  Your destination chosen, you collect yourself and set out for the entrance. The going is easier now. Though the landscape appears little tread, the terrain softens. You pause at the mouth, taking a moment to glance behind you before you descend into the mountainside. Back below, you catch a glimpse again of the strange five towers on the shores of Lake Avernus. From this distance they almost seem like beacons, easier to see now, easier to get to. Lightly curious, you move to step back - spying an outcropping that might give a better view of the whole scene. Instead you pull up short, your body stopped in its tracks by a solid force - an unseen wall. You reach out your hands, feeling at the invisible barrier. Cool like glass, it stretches out and up - and you cannot find a way around it. The barrier makes your path one way now, each step taking the towers below more and more out of sight. The wall unerringly advances with you. When you enter the cave fully, and the towers have all disappeared from your line of sight - a part of you understands you will never see any of them again. Undeterred or perhaps uncaring, you advance.  The rough rock cave slowly transitions into a manmade corridor. The corridor in kind becomes a series of twists, turns and dead ends. A labyrinth. Virgil's Aeneid posted:Daedalus, fleeing the realm of Minos, daring to trust himself to the sky on beating wings, floated up to the icy North, the first man to fly, and hovered lightly on Cumae’s heights at last. Here, on first returning to earth, he hallowed to you, Apollo, the oars of his rowing wings and here he built your grand, imposing temple. [On its] gate he carved Androgeos’ death and then the people of Athens, doomed — so cruel — to pay with the lives of seven sons. Year in, year out, the urn stands ready, the fateful lots are drawn. Following the song as if it were the thread of Ariadne itself, you continue to push through the underground maze. It is difficult to tell when you are making progress. Occasionally the tunnel rises or lowers, sometimes circling back on itself, allowing you a glimpse of the way forward or back through cracks in stone. Carvings of unfamiliar figures, and inscriptions in an unknown language dot the walls and alcoves you pass. Still, you soon understand a pattern to the two sides. On your right, the motif is blood. Stone surfaces appear to be slick. Statues appear to be bleeding from the neck, eyes or wrists. The left motif is the soul. Here the figures are depicted with their essences being pulled free, separated from the body. Those walls appear glittering and at times transparent. With some unease, you feel a hungry attraction to each. These dark thoughts are pushed to the side when you are alerted to someone, or something, following you. Your newfound intuition tells you nothing good will come should it catch up to you. You hurry ahead. Somehow, the follower inexorably gains on you. Your sense of time already lost, you could have been here minutes or hours before you see a change in the layout. You come to a wrought-bronze door, inscriptions of the Greek myth of the Minotaur intricately emblazoned on its surface. As you reach for the handle, you can hear the footsteps of the follower approaching you. You yank open the metal barricade, rushing inside and turning your efforts to shut it again. You do so with little time to spare, and in the small gap of light left between you, you finally see the form of your pursuer. You know with certainty as the door slams shut that you will see this figure again. Path of Fate posted:The antagonist who will dog your initial existence is...
  
Gothic Rite fucked around with this message at 23:46 on Mar 24, 2021 |
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Mar 24, 2021 23:23
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Salt-Witch
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Mar 25, 2021 00:05
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Preta, entirely because the design is dope.
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Mar 25, 2021 00:46
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Anti-Pope
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Mar 25, 2021 01:41
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Don't let your cups runneth over!
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Mar 25, 2021 03:02
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I'm anti the pope
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Mar 25, 2021 03:25
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I'm hot for a Salt Witch
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Mar 25, 2021 06:12
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The way I'm looking at it, if the first choice overcomes us, we get devoured. If the last choice beats us, we get burned at the stake. But if the middle choice prevails against us, we end up in a zoo with a chance to get loose! (Not a vote, I already voted)
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Mar 25, 2021 06:15
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Dr Subterfuge posted:Preta, entirely because the design is dope. Seconded, though I'd normally be riding the blasphemy train
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Mar 26, 2021 07:12
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The Antipope
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Mar 28, 2021 15:03
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Although outnumbered, I will still vote for the Salt-Witch
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Mar 31, 2021 05:03
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Your initial antagonist is... (4) [Seven of Cups] ...The Antipope (3) (2) Tally: Seven Experiences, Three Beats The Antipope posted:
The final words of the entity as you shut the gate echo in your ears, as does the image of the multitude of eyes, each independently moving and focusing on various parts of the labyrinth and you specifically. Scratches and thuds reach you next, as it attempts to force its way in. It fails. Satisfied it will follow no further, you take stock of this new area. A break in the stone-hewn ceiling hints at light and fresh air, the words of the song are coming from above, louder than ever before. But how to ascend? Just as the thought crosses the surface of your mind, the Great Comet edges into sight overhead. Its ruddy light illuminating an object in your path.  Large peacock feathers, embedded in wax and affixed to a bone and light wooden frame. Thick leather straps with bronze buckles. It takes you little time to divine exactly what these are. And only a little more to work out how exactly it works. Soon the artifact is secured against your back, and with a flex of your shoulders, you gain a slight lift, then settle back to the floor. Within a tick of the dial, you are ascending through the air itself. Through the ceiling you find the natural chimney and a continued scent of fresh, cool air. There are some close calls as you swerve to avoid outcroppings and twists in the chute, but soon you burst from the stoneway and into open sky. Your eyes are greeted by a great structure perched here on the lonely mountaintop, the sky illuminated and warmed by the falling star overhead. There's an energy to your flight, a pleasure to it you manage to lose yourself in. It fades only when you notice one, then a second feather break free of the contraption, fluttering downward and out of sight. Your time in the sky was limited.  Your blood calms, unlike the the music here, which pulses loud and intense - almost felt, in fact. And with no doubt it emanates from this place. The end of this journey is almost upon you. Path of Fate posted:
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Apr 1, 2021 03:46
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Oubliette
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Apr 1, 2021 05:36
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Oubliette
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Apr 1, 2021 05:48
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Throne Room
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Apr 1, 2021 06:44
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Throne Room
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Apr 1, 2021 12:47
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Oubliette
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Apr 1, 2021 14:15
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Throne Room
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Apr 1, 2021 15:52
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Oubliette
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Apr 3, 2021 19:11
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Pick up those wands! All is chaos!
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Apr 3, 2021 21:53
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Throne Room
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Apr 4, 2021 17:36
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You choose to encounter the castle's master in... (4) [Eight of Swords] ...the Oubliette (4) (1) Tally: Eight Experiences, Three Beats The wings get you over the walls, and to the base of a tower before seizing up, forcing you to catch your balance with the momentum you hadn't yet compensated for. You shrug out of the straps, drop the frame, and enter the tower. Stairs lead both up and down, but the echo of the song lured you below. In the basement of this tower, a large wooden door is inset into the floor. It takes you both hands to pull it open. Wooden steps so narrow they were closer to a ladder lead downward. You shove the door past its tipping point, letting it crash open before braving the way down. You hesitated with your foot on the first rung. Not because you were second guessing yourself, but because you were processing a sudden understanding of information. The Lord of this Castle seeped into every aspect of this place. It could be better said, perhaps, that the castle and his mind shared a relationship. You were entering a place under his mastery, no entity here had greater power. At the bottom of the ladder-stairs, another tunnel greets you - though this one was crafted with stonework more modern than the labyrinth you left. It furrows into a narrow path forward, the darkness cut by red, glowing mist that infused the air. As you begin to walk down it, you soon find the way patterned with regular alcoves. In each alcove was displayed a single page of parchment, somehow floating in the air unsupported. Each page is stained with a glowing red ink. The letters on these pages are the true source of the red glow which lights your path. Each page displayed a single name, the name of one of his victims. Mara had mentioned a ledger of blood. These were its contents. You continue. Soon you pass a chapter - a collection of one-hundred pages. Later you pass a full book - a collection of one-hundred chapters. Later still, you come to count a volume - a collection of ten books. In the end you push yourself past nine volumes of names. And as you finally push past the last alcove, a vision lifts you outside of your body, ascending into the sky until it joined with the great comet itself. You look down upon a globed earth, your presence casting a new sheen of red over its horizons. And here, you could see that your sun was not the center of the world, but a single page among uncountable volumes - as if there was no difference between the sun and stars but distance. Though even here, with the stars still unreachable, the earth was reflected by so many different dream realms and dimensions, it almost seemed to lose importance. And yet in another way these reflections fit together, as if they had once been whole, but now exist only shattered and disconnected. With that thought you are grounded back into the stonework under Dracula's castle. The path forward opens into a rounded room - its floor precisely sloped toward a center point - a drainage grate made of polished brass.  It is Vlad the Impaler - not the Voivode, nor the Dragon Knight, nor the Groom, nor Prince - who waits for you in the Oubliette. The Impaler: Bloodthirsty, vengeful, righteous. A man with God on his side, enemies all around, and not a drop of mercy in his heart. You absorb these sensations of him - almost taking a step back from the weight of the experience - but then in perhaps resolve or defiance, you meet his eyes. In them you see not a fire, but a cool and ashen grey. With that realization, his image warps before you.  In truth, the Impaler had not existed for a century. His death one-hundred years ago ended that phase along with his first mortality. He had become the Revenant, the Unmade Dragon, entering the hidden vampiric world with no maker to guide him. Another pause. Why did you know these things? With each of your thoughts, more answers come directly into your mind. Many lead to more questions, until the cacophony of knowledge becomes an insect buzz. He smiles sadly as if understanding your confusion, then motions slowly and simply with his left hand. First, your mind goes silent. The noise and music stills, allowing your own thoughts to breathe. Next, the brass grate shuddered and bent, its form warping and reshaping into a pointed lance. At its thickest, it is perhaps the girth of a sword's grip. However it tapers to the thin, perfect point of a needle. The whole thing extended toward you... then stopped. His hand beckoned your forward, then returned to the rest of his chair. He was asking you to impale yourself. A sacrifice of pain to restart that kindling behind his eyes. Part of you bristled, but the part that had expected pain and hardship - that had sought it out, it is what pushes you forward. You would make your offering, and then demand your new life. You consider how - what would be appropriate? What did he want? In the end, you make the choice for your own sake. This was going to be a step toward your new existence. And as Mara had encouraged you, you chose to define it in your own way. You pledged to yourself that giving your pain, that suffering on behalf of others, was something to be valued and respected. No more would you suffer needlessly. It would be by choice. Path of Fate posted:You impale yourself through...
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Apr 4, 2021 23:14
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Heart seems metal as gently caress.
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Apr 4, 2021 23:29
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Dr Subterfuge posted:
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Apr 4, 2021 23:37
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The eye
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Apr 4, 2021 23:44
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Eye
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Apr 5, 2021 00:56
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Eye
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Apr 5, 2021 01:06
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Mix Fire With Water!
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Apr 5, 2021 06:53
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The eye is definitely metal as gently caress
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Apr 5, 2021 16:35
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The eye
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Apr 6, 2021 12:56
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I agree, it must be the eye
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Apr 9, 2021 19:05
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You impale yourself through the... (7) [Knight of Swords] ...Eye (2) (0) Tally: Nine Experiences You make your decision - the eye. The Impaler senses the choice in you, leaning forward in anticipation. As you approach the metal tip , you see a single drop of red suspended from it. You calm your breathing as you get as close as possible, fighting the almost overwhelming urge to blink and pull away.  First savoring a moment of serenity which you accept could very well be your last, you act to join the impaled. The point of the metal pierces the cornea of your eye. Time seems to slow as as the thin, clear lens warps, pressing inwards, before the metal breaks through. You push. The tip enters the void of your iris, then moves deeper. Somehow, you can still see, though your pierced eye views everything through a filter of viscous red. As the metal pushes deeper, past your eye into the nerves and cavities behind it, the pain begins in truth. White-hot sparks flash like gunpowder, spasming some of your muscles each time the hurt crescendos. You push, though it gets harder and harder. The first time you falter, the metal spike has expanded in its gauge such that it fills your entire socket. You adjust your stance, one hand wrapping around the spike to help pull yourself further along. You push. More lightning, though this time you can feel the bones around your eyes cracking through the pain. But these fractures allow you the give to keep going. You pull and take a step. You stall again. You push. You stall. Both hands now on the lance - you push and pull at the same time. The needletip bursts from the back of your skull, blood and humors running down the flesh of your spine Some of your vision is collapsing now, darkness pressing in its edges. The angle of the spear forces your stance lower and lower as you progress. Soon you drop fully to one knee. You pull. You pull until the pain is as bright as the sun, blackness consumes your sight completely, and your life spills away. (Path of Fate Completed)    Ordo Dracul book, p84 posted:The [Order of Dracula]'s inner explorations aren’t only mystical or intellectual. They have a spiritual (or, some say, quasipsychological) dimension as well. For more than a century [disputed], a Tarot-based inquiry has been used to unveil the inner selves of potential Order members. Those who believe in the system claim that by understanding one’s Fate Card, a vampire can gain self-knowledge that ultimately yields an inner strength that surpasses that of most mortals and vampires alike. The Fate Card which represents you is... Preference Gauge: Vote for as many selections as you find interesting. Highest tally wins. This choice will set the average starting reputation of the Eidolon within the Order of Dracula, as well as an additional reversed theme for the chosen Fate Card. This is more important for newly made or recently joined vampires (like you), who have yet to build relationships within the Mystery Cult and thus earn their individual reputations. Before then, however, other kindred will often default to using the Fate Card as a gauge, and while one's Fate Card is rarely used as directly admissible evidence of character, it was known to sway Twilight Juror's considerations. How a student reacts to their Fate Card is a personal choice. But whether one rejected it, embraced it, or ignored it - how they navigate the label will be judged, codified, and appraised by mentors and fellow students alike.
History of the Gothic Rite posted:Prior to the implementation of the Gregorian Calendar, the Paths of Fate, like the independent Twilight Council itself, was still a fresh and untested system. As no universal standards of operation were yet codified between the Rites, interpretations were based solely on the preference of the local Twilight Judge. Like most conclaves in 1577, The Ordo Dracul within the Dead Domains of Napoli had yet to be assigned a Judge. At that time, Confessor Malachi of the Ascended Spark held highest rank, one of the original followers of the Gothic Rite, the origin of the Paths of Fate themselves [disputed]. Gothic Rite fucked around with this message at 00:48 on Apr 12, 2021 |
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Apr 11, 2021 20:12
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Death King of Wands Page of Swords Page of Cups The Moon Two of Swords Knight of Swords
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Apr 11, 2021 21:21
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King of Wands Ace of Cups Knight of swords
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Apr 11, 2021 22:10
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Eight of swords King of Wands The Moon Page of Swords Ace of Pentacles
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Apr 12, 2021 00:09
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Ace of Cups The Moon Seven of Cups
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Apr 12, 2021 03:36
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Death Eight of Cups Ace of Cups Page of Cups The Moon Two of Swords
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Apr 12, 2021 03:56
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