Herald of the Umbratide

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[ 80] Telthian: The Umbratide

Wed June  28 21:10:52 2023

To: Shadow Verminasia Bloodlust Black_Robes ( Imm Religion Storyline Scorn Cayenna )

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Dark Tide,

The passage of the past six years has been a gauntlet for our pantheon and for us. We have been bloodied by both our enemies and by one another. This time of trial has reached an end as a new era of power rises.

This missive and those that follow will be lengthy, but to those of you who wish for an understanding of what has occurred I urge you to take the careful time to read and understand it.

As I have advised my knights and my subjects before: it is an inescapable truth that our choices always matter to someone, somewhere. 

And sooner or later, in ways we cannot always fathom, the consequences come back to us. 

Always.

***

I came from Verminasia to Storm Keep once more as a king twice crowned. I made my mortal name as a priest in this age before anyone still alive knew I was the Carrionmaw, and I was counted among the few who have heard both the Master's voice and felt the Mistress' moon. My jaws tore the flesh of two Gods of light but were bested by one of balance. I killed a king of Verminasia who crippled us and I took his crown. 

I broke a highlord's skull like an egg and watched the light drain from her eyes as she bled out and begged me to spare her. I tore the Marauder's heart from their chest and left them a crippled shell, setting their realm ablaze because I would rather watch it burn than to rule over it. I gutted Mercerion's son, a boy-emperor and turned his rotting head into the last sight his Empress ever saw. I put the final Shard of Seanan into Necrucifer's hands to send us into battle upon the Black Moon. That choice brought about his destruction.

I have long studied the ancient texts and scrolls that define our religion of evil - not faith - but religion, and I knew that none of it was destroyed by the fall of Mencius or Necrucifer.

But he was my creator, and I came into this world ages ago well before the land was riven into continents as the First of my scale. I hunted and killed without mercy, and my wings shadowed the luminaries of the first Eclipse until my demise, poisoned by the Rose of Taliena and consigned to torpor for an age. I have witnessed the fall of the first dark alliance and the crumbling of Aversia, but I can tell you none of these things were as grievous a wound to us as the crushing defeat we suffered on the Black Moon.

There are things mortalkind is forbidden from knowing. The Sons and Mistress placed our victory and Necrucifer’s life in our hands, and we failed. There are no other answers nor interpretations of the events on the Black Moon. The Cardinal Symantha Kesepton offered a vocal warning that a defeat could signal the beginnings of our end, but the Shadowknights of the Sanctum accused her of heresy rather than heeding the priestess' warning.

At times, I questioned whether had more understood Necrucifer’s very existence hinged upon our success, then perhaps more of the dark would have joined us in battle. My mind picked at this scab until it bled, despite the absence of virtue in second-guessing the past. 

Like many, I prayed to the Dark Gods for answers and could discern none. Presented with no clear direction or answers, many sought revenge. Not on the Light who defeated us, but upon the Dark Gods. Others defected to the light or balance, or followed the bleeding of their hearts.

Instead, I sought to hold Necrucifer’s faithful together as one until the breaking of the circle could be understood and a clear path opened. I led us into the depths of Dae’tok to recover the last of Him to gain a sliver of a chance to bring about His return in furtherance of the Prophecy we were sworn to uphold. And we succeeded. One, single opportunity was forged from the sweat, blood, and lives sacrificed in the yaenni wastes. Only a handful of Necrucifer’s faithful and Warlord Boof Rog answered the call, yet much of the Darkness were nowhere to be found.

The Ebon Tower led by Bodrum Darkrock stood against us, and the Light triumphed. Drakkara destroyed Necrucifer for his hubris before our very eyes. 

The impossible had come to pass. Our defeat was crushing, and in the destruction of Necrucifer a civil war within the Darkness began as all fought for whatever power they might claim.

Embittered by this second defeat and perceived betrayal, a faction within Storm Keep began to embrace the heresy of the Warp. They believed, and still do, that as Necrucifer can never be restored that all Darkness must be destroyed. I left Verminasia as a King to return to Storm Keep to prevent such a disgrace and defilement of my religion. 

Together, as Abbott and Cardinal, Symantha and I fought to stem the tide of Erebaal’s corruption. We had reached a pivotal moment and Drakkara revealed herself to Storm. We were reminded of the founding of Storm Keep as servants of the religion of Darkness and offered an implicit choice - to submit or to die.

That day, I was given a vision of my own death, one that would return every time hence in Her presence: the Goddess’ eyes burning like the onyx flames of a collapsing star as she marked my flesh with umbral lightning and rendered me to ash.

 ***

After Drakkara's ultimatum, half of Storm Keep was prepared to tear away to the Warp and our foundations began to crack. Drakkara visited my lair and a pact was struck - as it’s Dark Lord and with Symantha as my Chancellor, we would build a bridge to preserve Storm Keep from the wrath of destruction by the Dark Gods or defection to the Warp. We would prove we were worthy by building upon its foundations with the opening of a doorway to the Infinite Night above Thalosia. We would raise a new generation of Knights loyal to the original vision of Shadow and usher in a new era for Storm as new leaders rose through our ranks. 

We would re-forge our place in the circle of evil, putting an end to our civil war, and Drakkara would have the makings of her legion loyal to the darker tide. The Dark Queen returned to Storm and joined my blood with the essence of Abbess Symantha and the faith of our new knights to restore the crumbling foundation.

We rooted out those loyal to the Warp and challenged them to fight to the death or flee the Keep.. We penned new teachings and delved the mists of the umbra to further unlock its secrets with Ithelim. We raised new knights in Kaizlark and Asyrlin and brought those who believed the Eclipse should return 

under our banner: Maccus would rise to a trusted officer of Storm Keep and Rasavadi d’Aerthe licked his wounds. I laid the robes of the priesthood to rest and entered the Ebon Tower of the Conclave. The tomes within their tower provided the knowledge sufficient to return and claim the Moon of the Abyss. 

The Sanctum of Storm Keep which had stilled upon Necrucifer’s destruction stirred again with the purity of darkness and I armored myself with that tenebrous shadow. Storm Keep was now tethered to the Rip, and using this link we would in time pierce the sky to open another doorway above Verminasia. We were tested and tried upon the Hourglass, and the Abbess Symantha presided as our, and my, inquisitor, and I spoke the truth not to defend my deeds, but of where I believed Storm Keep and the Darkness must go.

Devion stripped Warlord Boof Rog of a hand and he is yet to be whole. Countess Catroina Millar was slain by Fatale and Abaddon, ushered to stability by Z'Quarus, still requires our aid to recover from this and more recent wounds inflicted by Nadrik. The Ebon Tower is still in disrepair from damage suffered during Nikola la Tes' leadership, as Khelthrai consolidates power and leads them forward. Verminasia avoided one mutiny for a short-lived, ineffectual rule and now Rhylgar now aims to make his mark there as a new King. The Darkness weathered these challenges but must rally itself again.

After, we lit ourselves on fire with the dark zeal of purpose and new strength joined us, and old allies returned and saw their faith and strength bolstered. But the Light struck a blow against us with manifest pillars of Nadrik’s wrath. Even as Z’Quarus conceived of a plan to destroy them by weakening their power through the dark monoliths and Symantha focusing the power of the Umbrastone in a culling blow, this victory was short lived. 

The pillar within Storm Keep was destroyed, a seal bearing my name upon its surface shattered in an explosion destroying part of Storm Keep. Far from the explosion itself,  as I stood in the Rip I felt an eruption of agony within my chest. Named thusly by the craggy patches of alabaster that transfigured my body, the Lightscale affliction grew as it crippled my strength and hollowed my soul. The Lucent Pillar of the dungeon bearing Boof’s seal, and those in Abaddon and Verminasia were torn from their halls, perhaps preserving these weapons from destruction. The Clavist seal remained, and bore Nikola's name until recently.

They hover now guarding the Aurora, a lucent weapon pointed at Verminasia’s heart. By all measures, this was an effort by Nadrik, Taliena, and Kantilles to draw a new frontline in our war and destroy my physical form to bind my soul to the Light. The tale of the Aurora's making is written within the threads within, along with the names of those mortals responsible who owe a debt yet unpaid in blood and suffering.

***

Storm Keep, Verminasia, and Abaddon committed resources to finding a cure for the Lightscale, and though Piknim, Asyrlin, Nimiane, Zorreau and many others ran down possible leads, we made no progress. In the eyes of the Dark Gods, this was a test of our resilience and I was given no succor. But as the situation became dire and the lightscale spread, a Shadowmage broached a possible solution. His flesh was marked by the dark of umbra, and at each meeting the magister appeared to be missing one finger more, as if his own decay counting down the remaining months of my life. 

At the Magister’s behest, Maccus, Daizi, Kaizlark, Wyltte, Corson, Symantha, Rahke, and Melchaleve went to extraordinary ends. We bartered with the ancient Tiamat, stole knowledge we required from the Balanx archives, bested the Umbral Phantasm for the gemstone it guards, tracked down the remnants of a meteoric fragment of the Black Moon and destroyed the Colossus it spawned. Wyltte scoured Algoron to acquire purest silver in creation and with these reagents we prepared to craft the means to rouse Azi’Dahaka, an ancient evil put to eternal rest by Raije and Kantilles. 

We abducted the only smith on the face of Algoron with the skill to undertake the task required. When the deed was done, he was slain thereby ensuring the blueprints of the object required, and the knowledge of it and what we intended to do would remain solely in our purview.

We roused the ancient hydra from its slumber. Its last waking moments were in battle with two Gods and we correctly surmised it would be ‘well pissed’ in the vernacular of one of our knights. A word some hours earlier to the Verminasians proved sufficient time for their preparations, and from the shoreline the Requiem captained by Riordan and Piknim provided fire support. No beast, no matter how great it might be, appreciates cannon fire and Azi’Dahaka was no exception. The battle took us across the dense jungle battling head after head until at last we had our prize: a venom of purest darkness.

On the verge of death from the hydra’s vicious attacks, the Lightscale erupted again to consume more of my life's essence. We spirited away to the reliquary beneath Storm Keep and Symantha prepared the ancient hydra’s venom. Surrounded by those men and women I commanded to this end, I drank the venom in a dark communion. It spread like wildfire through my body and within moments I fell to my knees, choking as I expired. My last vision before crossing death’s threshold was of the Magister revealing himself as none other than Devion, the Lord of Lies.

***

My own recollection of the following period of time is splintered and fractious. I understand now that the reflections of my soul were put on trial, a spectacle hosted by the Dark Queen and Her Sons with Devion as the proprietor, an array of mortals in judgment, and Symantha as my executioner. The tale of my Judgment is better told by another.

Erstwhile, I was adrift in an abyss, pulled onward toward a golden prison of light. My feet told me I was on the ground, but I was unmoving. My lungs said that I was breathing but my heart had long since stopped beating. I had no conception of who I was or who I used to be. I was alone until at once I was not, and with one decision I was torn free from that abyss. After, I remember Dragoth’s craft upon my soul, Fatale’s blades as they cleft me into 

mirrored facets of my soul. I remember the faces of those that stood in judgment and the black knife that was plunged into my chest. And that it was not the strength of arms that had failed me in life, but the diminishing of my soul, a weakness inherited by the death of Necrucifer I would never be free from.

My only freedom from the shackles of that weakness came at the edge of a black knife wielded by my most trusted confidant and ally in Symantha Kesepton. As Bishops, we rose through the ranks of the church of Necrucifer and put disorder to order and fought to ensure the supremacy of all evil. 

Her betrayal was not one of my flesh or my soul, but a betrayal of the false promise that Necrucifer will return, the lie of purism, and the subjugation of the facets of the dark into one where all are the same as Necrucifer wished - rather than the embrace of all our gifts from the lawful code of Storm to the chaotic bloodlust of the Dungeon. The sacrifice of my soul by her hand was her test, and her tale to tell - not mine.

I was torn apart and molded together again by the umbra Drakkara channeled through the High Priestess and the bond between we three. I was thrust into a place of shadow and fire, familiar but different and I was not alone. Within the umbral egg my body was weak and little more than muscle and blood, but my mind remained strong, my soul tethered to its dyad in Symantha. 

Inside, the Dark Queen taught me to weave and feed upon the umbra, and denied me nothing that made my strength grow. My awareness began to stretch beyond the confines of my nascent body, and my reach exceeded my physical grasp. Bit by bit, those who passed through the Chamber became a known presence - both those who named themselves allies and those who are my enemies that dared intrude that liminal domain. They whispered in hushed tones, but dared not act.

As the days passed, many of you began to shape my understanding of all that transpired, providing knowledge, history, tales, offerings, sacrifice and power to me. This world takes more than it gives to us, and in my developing state I fed upon and took the essence I required from the weaver, the umbra, from each of you, and from those who sat in constant vigil and my caretaker and beloved  most of all.

When my strength was sufficient, I tore free from the umbral egg to find myself within the Dark Queen’s courtyard on the Black Moon. The imps, fiends, diablerie, and demons of the infinite night sought to my newfound form, viewing me as a usurper of their position. I in turn sharpened my claws upon their hides and my teeth upon their flesh. With each I slew, I fed upon the divinity they possessed and made it my own, my appetite for it and my desire for greater prey growing with each remorseless slaughter.

***

The passage of time is an illusion and nowhere more so than upon the black moon's surface where the laws of creation are seized and bent to a single will. Vast gardens grow, bloom, and wither into nothing as the stars above expire and are reborn, casting all in pale shadow as the cycle flows both forward and in reverse. 

As my scales hardened as I grew greater than a mere whelp, the fullness of my re-creation began to manifest, and with it came new strength and mastery over the umbra. The Dark Queen bid me travel further across Her realm and I soared in the blackness of night, hunting and killing or driving the demons who once served Necrucifer into chains. Death was my errand and the fate they had earned.

With each I killed, my power swelled until at once stars rained from the sky and the Black Wind howled to demand my return to return to the Black Throne and our Queen. The same eyes that burnt like collapsing stars bore down upon me from high atop the throne. The chamber was empty save one figure cowled in living darkness between where my talons met the floor and Drakkara, high upon her throne of midnight. 

The Black Wind and the migraine split my skull were old friends I had neither heard nor felt in years, evoked by the presence of Necrucifer before me.

In the impossible black of the Eventide Court, I brought prophecy to it's fulfillment. I made my choice; I destroyed the lingering vestiges of Necrucifer by consuming all he was to bring about my own return to Algoron.

How, some may ask, could I do such a thing, to destroy my own God who commanded me through the long years and steal what power remained of Him for myself?

I have no answer, except perhaps this: 

Why should I not?

--=--_--=--_--=--_--=--

These were my choices. We dream the dream of a new world where the shadows grow darker, old boundaries broken and laws re-written, and all of us are free to pursue their desires. 

A new era beneath the Darkmoon reigns in full and the Umbratide has risen, offering power to all those who are bold enough to take it.

Carrionmaw                                                Telthian Schwartz

      Draco Dei                                                    Dark Lord of Shadow

   The Crimson King                                       Abbott of Drakkara

       Godhand of Drakkara             Archduke of Pharthati