Welcome to The Duality of Man, an original animanga role-play that features numerous supernatural creatures. Unfortunately, these various species have distanced themselves because of the war that occurred thousands of years ago, plaguing some with eyes that only see their dualism. While others meddle themself with their differences, two groups fight, each attempting to eliminate the other in for their definition of worldly peace. These two groups of the Terror Response Syndicate (TRS) and the Assembly of Phantoms (AP). With individuals fighting merely over their differences, it brings uncertainty to the outcome of this war.
We happily accept all role-players as long as they obey the rules and are capable of meeting our word count of 50. This does include those who are unfamiliar with this style of role-playing. The staff of The Duality of Man are willing to happily help those who are new to the role-playing world so they feel comfortable on site. Feel free to message the staff if you need help, they can be found here or in the site Discord and will gladly answer questions alongside calm concerns. If you have any suggestions we would love to hear them; guests may use the support board as a suggestion area as well. Should you decide to join, may I say welcome to the site and we all hope you enjoy your time here.
Yours Truely,
The Staff
season
Summer 2022
Heat has broken through into a glorious summer. The snow has entirely dried through the spring, leaving to the brilliance of the warmer months. Terror activity has risen as people are brought out of their homes, leaving the TRS in a position of consistent work. Each are attempting to maintain victory in the endless struggle for power.
With April, an activity check has arrived for members to do! Please post on the AC and tag all your accounts, including WIPs and OOC accounts. Failure to post on this AC will result in your accounts being marked inactive or deleted. Please note, due to a late start, the due date for this check has been adjusted for one time and one time only.
A drink to the dead as we drown ourselves in despair
TAG @zeethesixth
WORDS 2029
NOTES Feel free to take control of any npcs in this scenario. Do message me if you have any questions.
352 C.E.
The Day Before The Ides of Junius
Somewhere in Magna Germania...
Salvation cries for the wicked as emptiness haunts the realm of man. Woe to forlorn and wretched whom under the will of Augustus and his people, languished in the midst of famine, disease and Roman steel. Little did they know of the myriad souls that lingered amongst the living, condemned to an existence of torment and melancholy. Anomalies these creatures were to the eyes of the victors of a cataclysmic war centuries prior that disturbed the very balance of Earth. The afflicted souls were but one of the many scapegoats. The followers of Akari demanded retribution upon their vanquished foes, and yet they remained unsatisfied. The War between Gods may have ended and in its wake, followed the centuries long war of man, angels, demons and beasts alike. The people needed someone to blame, to unleash their resentment upon. Needless to say, the restless dead were one of the ideal targets for humanity's indiscriminate ire...
A few miles off the empire's Germanic frontier in its northern borders were vast swathes of marshes and woodlands. A thick layer of fog blanketed the scourged land of dead and dying flora. Brown and dark patches of grass marred the otherwise tranquil scene as far as the eye can see. A few dead, leafless trees defiantly stood the tests of time whilst surrounded by scores of decomposing logs and stumps, now infested with fungi and insects, clearly a remnant of what was once a lush and vibrant forest. The stench of death grows ever more potent with bones scattered about the decaying land, providing an ominous warning to those who dared traverse the land of Orcus, "The Lord of The Dead". He was according to legend, a horrendous looking individual with a body as hefty as a pine tree, with voluminous facial hair that reached his plump belly and a mouth spacious enough to devour a whole human.
The land Orcus called home had already changed in his mere half a decade of absence. There he was, en route to the sanctuary he had so unceremoniously claimed as his own. The sheer dread of his aura brought about the further decay of an otherwise recovering plant life, the crows abandon their feast of rotten carrion upon the sound of clattering of hooves and the presence of death further added to the already bleak atmosphere. He rode his lanky beast onwards, curiously resembling an equine creature it it were not for its head that was devoid of flesh. A monster's skull it was, with thick horns akin to that of a ram's, teeth that were as sharp as arrowheads and its eye sockets emitting a most peculiar cyan glow. The fascinating specimen named Aischylos drifted through these wastelands carrying with it he who had summoned the creature onto this realm. The fictitious legends regarding Orcus proved to be sordidly falsified by its Greek and Roman authors, that much is clear at first glance.
Ornate black armor conceals almost every corner of his body. His towering body build is discernible although within the realm of reason in contrast to the legends regarding his appearance. Outlandish, almost alien-like runic inscriptions were distributed symmetrically on almost every corner of the otherworldly material the armor was made of. His helmet shaped similarly to the Corinthian ones of old with several crests pointing upwards decorating the forehead. A narrow opening at the headgear's front was perhaps the only segment that lay exposed to the elements. Even then, the shadows shrouded the once elusive lich's deathly pale face. That is to say that he was no longer elusive, much to his indignation. His entourage of six other other peculiar looking individuals were palpably undead just like him, merely half were visible to the naked human eye with the other half being spirits, imperceptible to mere mortals. Having embarked on his excursion eastwards to the steppes of Sogdia and Transoxania with just two of his most trusted aides, it has becomes apparent that the four others had somehow managed to unofficially follow him on the journey back despite his clear misgivings.
His thickset hands were perhaps the most visible part of his body, revealing a blanched and dull complexion. Whilst he gripped the bridles of his massive beast on one hand, his other languidly held onto a rather large scepter made of unknown material. It is aptly dark in color and may as well be a mace due to its bulky and ominous looking head that seemed capable of shattering a giant's skull. As the melancholic band of undead meandered along the course of the blackened waters of a narrow river channel leading to their destination, Orcus suddenly gestured the group to a halt, tugging onto the bridles and raising his cursed rod in the process. Over the horizon, was an assortment of cottages... what was once a hideout for runaway slaves and exiles now grew into a small village in his short absence... A group of about 12 men, obviously well-to-do Romans or maybe Greeks as evidenced by their silk garments, approached. Among them, a feeble looking elderly man with a full white beard stepped before Orcus and bowed in greeting. "Ave, my name is Titus Cassius Varro, Magister Officiorum of the Roman Empire and quaestor of the Mages Guild. We have been expecting you, Dominus of The Undead."
How very irritating indeed, the pompous attitude of upper class Romans. Orcus merely nodded in response and gestured for Aischylos to proceed, inducing frowns upon the faces of these Imperial agents who dared enter his land. In addition to this, the further Orcus' band went, the more scattered dwellings they found, this time made of sturdier material and even marble which clearly indicates Roman involvement due to the superior engineering. The number of humans gathering around to see him had also doubled, much to Orcus' vexation. Even after repeated orders to his old friend, Sigibert to repel any more unwanted human guests, Romans especially, to settle near his sanctuary, it went ignored as he half-expected. All around were a handful of men and women, mostly of Germanic stock but he could well discern a number of Romans, Greeks, even Syrians and Persians as evidenced by the array of greetings thrown at him whilst he endeavored to ignore them. He knew not whether to commend or pity these humans who somehow managed to endure the abysmal conditions of his blighted realm. Most of these people, as Orcus could perceive, were clearly downtrodden peasants and vagrants due to their ragged garments and famished faces, nothing too unusual in this period really.
Soon a band on liches and spirits, who unofficially referred to themselves as Orcus' retainers despite his clear disinterest, shouted at the humans to disperse shortly before firing rays of darkness in the air as warning shots. All the while, Varro and his company of mages, scholars and a couple of Elite guards pushed through the crowd. "We bear word from our Emperor Constantinus, we beseech thee O Dominus! The Empire requires thy services." Varro uttered frantically in old-fashioned, classical Latin, this time more polite in his speech. Nevertheless, Orcus' retainers who were successful in intimidating the masses to disband halted the Romans upon his signal. The group headed further into the mist-covered mire of blackwater shortly before Orcus could no longer ignore the rigorous protests Varro and some of his subordinates were having with the liches. After which, his female reaper companion, Phaedra materialized her gray avian wings and hastily flew up to Orcus' shoulder level and whispered to him in Greek.
"Strategos, the old man's soul is tainted by years... centuries of sin... looking at him fills me with ire... shall I pass judgment upon him?". Consequently, Orcus tightened the grip on his scepter and shot Phaedra a glare, his eyes lighting up in a cyan glow shortly before a raspy and hollow voice escaped his dry lips. "No blood of a Roman statesman shall be spilled onto this land for it will surely incite their fury, you know well what these people are capable of Phaedra... Go on ahead, I shall deal with this myself." Aischylos then cried out as Orcus directed it to gallop at full speed towards the commotion. In seconds, the tall undead man stared down at Varro from above his tall steed. Orcus then swiftly jumped down from Aischylos and faced the old man "Magister, you may pass with two others, the armed guards are forbidden to enter. I'm sure you understand." Orcus said listlessly whilst gesturing his lich guards to let Varro pass. "Come Magister, we shall discuss your... proposition along the way."
And so, Orcus walked Aischylos, Varro and his two younger proteges towards his tomb, originally an abandoned burial grounds by an extinct Germanic tribe but evolved into an elaborate holding thanks to the unwanted efforts of his followers. By now, Orcus knew well that any attempts at refusing their services would be fruitless. He has also been informed that the Roman Empire had a falling out with a pro-angel faction and was now at civil war during his time in the East, the de jure Emperor seeked Orcus' assistance in driving out the Angels who had for centuries following the war, controlled Imperial politics from the shadows. Orcus was not at all surprised by this. What did surprise him however, was what these Romans had done to his sanctuary... Marbles and columns everywhere, from the previously dirt flooring there was now concrete, tracts of land that had been mounds for centuries having been transformed into sarcophagi in just five years. Orcus took a brief moment to take in his surroundings. The renovations that the Roman engineers did far eclipsed in just five years, what his Germanic followers did in a century...
Immediately afterwards Orcus, still in his armor briskly walked past the newly built 10 foot bronze statue of himself in the same armor. He burst through the door of a large mausoleum which now took the place of his formerly humble resting place, upon which he found his target. The spirit of a late Germanic Chieftain, Sigibert was in the process of instructing laborers fixing a large mirror onto a wall. Varro promptly followed Orcus into the fray "I hope thou art pleased with our gifts Dominus, why, that mirror right there came directly from my quarters!" Varro then boasted shortly before Sigibert swiftly advanced towards them. "Ah, hail to you Elderman, you have returned at last!" he exclaimed in the Germanic tongue before switching to vulgar Latin "Ave to you as well Magister, we are almost done with the interior and catacombs!" As if on cue, three women clad in robes inscribed a hex onto the ground. Orcus then positioned himself atop the hex after which a red flash of light engulfed him, in mere moments, his armor and the hex vanished. In its place was a blue linen tunic and a rough spun woolen cloak with earthen hues which Orcus now wore.
At this point, the jaded Orcus lacked the motivation to lash out at Sigibert. He merely frowned slightly and uttered in Germanic "Brother... what is the meaning of this?" To which Sigibert immediately replied "Ah yes, you see. A band of crusading Angels and their supporters ravaged the neighboring tribes. We have no choice Elderman, these Romans wish to help." Orcus pointed his scepter towards Sigibert shortly before releasing a listless smile "Sigibert you old fool... I suppose that is for the best..." Orcus said before slowly approaching the mirror in his attempt at clandestinely placating his exasperation. He beheld the man in the mirror, his face partly curtained by his long locks of white hair and his skin unnervingly pallid, akin to that of a decomposing corpse with his sullen eyes showing clear symptoms of discoloration. In the meanwhile, his followers had already drawn a hex underneath him, the red flash soon enveloping his form. His skin revitalized, now exhibiting a healthier, human-like complexion. His irises had also recuperated in its turquoise glory as he gazed deep into the mirror in contemplation.
Titus Cassio Varro. A somewhat big name, with a large following. Well, large enough. He had his dirt, and he had plenty of dirt to dig up.
Frankly, Maria did not cafe for him at all. But she also did not care about him. He just happened to be the one she would probably have to go through.
If Orcus were to look closely at the mirror, he would notice three males standing with Varro, where previously there had been two. One stood slightly in front of the two acolytes, between them, but still behind Varro himself. The third male was in garb identical to the others but his features were noticably more Abrahamic than the others.
Were Orcus to turn around, he would see no such third figure.
Soon, the third figure would begin walking forwards. Still, nothing of him would exist in the true world.
Once the figures presence was obviously noticed, it would begin to speak.
"The mighty Orcus, if I am not mistaken? Many apologies to be here without permission, though it is certainly arguable as to if I am truly in your domain." The voice was that of a male, but in the higher registers. All the same, there was a definite power behind it. Confidence. Smugness, perhaps. A certain degree of certainty.
"You may call me Marcius. I have some amount of business with you, but if you would, I would prefer to handle some business with Varro first."
When the figure spoke to and of Orcus, its tonnage and choice of words were those of respect. To Varro, however, there was a lack of such intonations. A proper Latin by all other regards, this would obviously offend Varro.
The man showed it, but did not act upon it.
"How do you communicate with us? Perhaps through illusions? Or a thrown voice and a cheap invisibility that does not work over reflections?"
"Ah Verro, ever the inquisitive one. Though wrong on both counts, you get credit for coming up with very likely possibilities, while getting in a jab at me! Well phrased, well phrased."
Verro glowered.
"If we could hold just a moment, I would prefer Orcus' judgement upon my presence."
The figure would make a grand sweeping gesture towards the reflection of Orcus, as if presenting the male.
Let us toast for the dead as we drown ourselves in despair
TAG @zeethesixth
WORDS 1005
NOTES PM me for any questions.
The once feared undead legend nonchalantly gazed at the smooth, almost transparent surface of this mirror. Never before had Orcus feasted his eyes a mirror of glass, nor had he been able to behold such an accurate reflection of himself. How distressing indeed that for even a moment, the perception of his own appearance was briefly consigned to oblivion. As diverting as Varro's gift may be, there was more to the lich's seemingly trivial act of inspecting his face, aside from attempting to disregard the clutter generated by the strokes of hammer against concrete and steel of course. Unbeknownst to Varro and his two proteges, the relatively scant number of physical entities pales in comparison to the somewhat overpowering presence of specters, intangible to the human eye. Even Orcus himself was initially startled by the surge of the undead population in his supposed sanctuary, primarily intended to be a humble abode of solitude for the oh so weary lich and perhaps a few of his most trusted comrades.
Amidst the abundance of ethereal spirits within the enclosed vicinity, the lustrous ambience of living souls were the anomalous few; Varro, his two subordinates and a small portion of outliers to name a few. How fascinating indeed, that a non-living object, a mirror possesses a soul, more specifically the spot in the mirror where the reflection of a mysterious third man well within the circles of Varro's entourage can be found. The abnormality is further amplified by the fact that its soul emits an aura akin to that of a living human. Orcus listlessly turned his attention back to Varro and company, still conversing with Sigibert about frivolous matters, although he was all too aware that they were devising a grand scheme in the long run. The third man was absent, compelling Orcus to face the mirror once again. Intently gazing through the glass reflection, he found that the peculiar figure who dwelt within the mirror's reflective surface donned the apparel of silk and linen akin to that of the Mage's Guild initiate, possessing strong Aramean or perhaps Numidian features upon closer inspection. Initially, Orcus surmised that it must be a gifted human somehow capable of traversing through reflective surfaces.
Then it spoke, flaunting the clear modulation of an orator and carrying the typical grandiose undertones that one might expect from a patrician. "Ave... Marcius of The Mirror, welcome to my sanctuary" Orcus replied back as a courtesy. Centuries ago, before the cataclysmic war, living souls would have shuddered under the mere notion of coming close to him. Although initially relieved that his days as a much feared and elusive folk deity were long gone, perhaps that life would have been preferable over this less feared, down to earth Orcus. Now, random individuals have no qualms greeting him as one would an elderly man, let alone trespass his realm without fear of both plague and revenants. Orcus humbly stepped aside and turned his attention to Varro, his aged face an amalgamation of both bewilderment and annoyance. In spite of Marcius' casual remarks regarding his name, it became apparent that they were no acquaintances as evidenced by his reactions that implicated Varro's lack of association with Marcius' very existence.
"Magister, it would seem that the man in the mirror has business with you." Orcus briefly glanced at Marcius shortly before distancing himself from the mirror whilst casually saying "Take your time... both of you." Standing to next to a newly built column and observing the peculiarity in the mirror, Phaedra emerged from the mausoleum's opposite entrance along with the five others he journeyed with from the east. Orcus soon beckoned the loyal reaper to his side to which she immediately acquiesced. In seconds, she strode over to his side, letting the loose fabrics of her mantle draped over her shoulders and old-fashioned peplos to flow. Upon nearing Orcus, Phaedra lowered her head hastily before the raven-haired woman gently tapped the sleeves of the lofty lich compelling him to lower his head slightly as Phaedra greeted with her characteristically soft voice. As response, Orcus subtly pointed at the mirror upon which the reaper began her analysis. "Live human... a most peculiar one at that... neither pure nor impure..." Phaedra uttered, thereby confirming Orcus' prior conclusion.
What followed were two spirits in their extra-physical forms, one nobleman from the eastern steppes and another one from further east, the land of silk as the Romans referred to it. A catastrophic storm brews from the vast plains of Scythia as countless bands of nomadic horsemen gradually pour westwards is their desperate struggle to escape the demonic hordes ravaging anything in their path to revenge. Orcus was present as their leader so valiantly proclaimed a mandate to avenge their comrades to the west from persecution suffered under the followers of Akari. Darkness awaits over the horizon and yet in the most superfluous fashion, the once indomitable empire bicker among their own amidst their impending dilemma. Their souls hunger for despair, and in time, they shall be on the receiving end. The spirit who hails from the steppes soon broke his silence and asked in heavily accented Persian "Shall we present ourselves to the Roman now?" to which Orcus merely shook his head in response. The civilized world may be at peril and yet Orcus seemed to be more engrossed in uncovering the secrets of Marcius for if his theory proved accurate, then hope for absolution may well be within his grasp.
The cursed weapon that plagued him for ages, The Rod of Nergal, rests snugly within the tight clutches of his hefty fingers. Upon sensing the lich's intent, the scepter emitted a bizarre cyan glow, inducing an eerie sense of foreboding within him. Suppressing the natural urge to tremble, he handed the cursed to Phaedra with much trepidation. This ingenious strategy of his may be the last opportunity to rid himself of a terrible burden before he would be ultimately subjected to his bleak destiny as the bearer of a most harrowing scourge.
Marcius smiled wide as Orcus gave his... blessing is too strong of a word, but as Orcus granted Marcius' request. How bowed lightly, swinging is arms out as his chest fell.
"Thank you, Lord Orcus." Marcius' eyes shifted to Varro. "Now, Varro. I do believe that, within your ranks, is an individual studying the intricacies of summoning."
Varro seemed perturbed to be in this situation, but he was unwilling to show weakness in front of Orcus, while also worrying about insulting the being. "Yes, I have such a member."
"Good, good. We are not starting off this exchange with lies. In the spirit of maintaining that, I shall be up front. I paid a visit to your campus, or college, or whatever you prefer to call it."
Varro's face was unresponsive. "It is open to visitation, though I reserve the right to ban people from doing such."
Marcius smirked. "You do, though for some, that is hard to truly achieve. Regardless, I went there in search of said specific member. I wish to trade secrets with them, discuss things. I have a vast collection of books on related topics, and would much like to add his knowledge to it."
One of the acolytes behind Varro visually stiffened.
"And if I were to deny you this?" Varro's face seemed to light up, though he maintained a mild frown. It was as if he saw an out, a way to get back at this man's audacity without angering Orcus.
"Ah, I should have been more clear. I was not asking your permission. I was merely telling you."
Varro seemed pissed at that statement. "He is my student. As his superior, it is my right to deny you time with him."
"That may be the case, but let me offer a counterpoint." Marcius began walking towards the edge of the reflection. "Within this specific school, I have little doubt that your student is much more learned. I explored his room for some moments. While he likely keeps his greatest secrets locked down, beyond my reach at the time, perhaps even on his person, what I saw rivals some of the greatest work in my collection. And much of it appears self taught. He made no references to the Asher or Tiglath, pioneers of the field. Which leads me to believe he was not taught the matter, but rather explored it himself. As such, within this matter, I would name him the superior, and grant him the choice to overrule your worn."
Varro, now insulted by not only Marcius' general tone of voice and choice of works, but also directly called inferior to a student, was surprisingly calm looking. "Perhaps you are right, but in all other matters I remain his superior, and he knows the punishment for disobeying his superiors."
"Do you, Varro?"
"Beg pardon?"
"Do you understand the punishments for disobeying your superiors?"
"Certainly."
"Then you should know to stop now, and let me speak with the boy."
"Pardon me, Marcius," the name was practically spat. "But you are a nobody. You come from nowhere. There is no power behind your name. I could undo you in an instant, if I saw fit."
"Hmm, perhaps you misunderstand the situation. Do try to cause me harm, I fancy the attempt. I grant you permission to attempt any one spell to cause me great harm. Should this come to kill me, or otherwise debilitate me, I pardon you of all blame."
Varro smirked. He removed a book from somewhere slightly out of sight of the mirror, and slowly opened to a page.
Over his head there shall be A trap, a falling, table that he Cannot dodge, for it is too big So after his death, I may take a swig
[[Ok seriously, no idea how to really do spellcasting, so I'm winging it. Varro is convinced that the power of his tome can manage it, even with the whimsical "lyrics".]]
And then... a glorious nothing. "Ah, Varro. You overestimate yourself. Firstly, what good practitioner does not have protections? Secondly, I doubt you have the experience and raw power required to affect me here. Magic is... weak where I am. The good news for you is, I cannot use a similar spell on you. So, we could end it there. I will speak with your acolyte, and our busine-"
"No."
"You are making a bad de-"
"No."
"Alright." Marcius removed an outer layer of clothing, revealing a book. It was a tome, and a quite powerful one, though only special individuals could really recognize that. To all others, it was a simple book.
I call upon Syz'tklm, lesser denizen of the 7th realm. I offer my body so long as you obey my will. I grant entrance into the realm of mortals, the realm of Enki. Grant me your form such that you may taste freedom.
For the briefest moment, Marcius disappeared. In his place was a horror being. Long, spindly arms sprouted out of a black chest. Skin curved in around ribs, and at the stomach, the waistline became mere inches thick. At the end of the arms were long, hooked fingers, that looked sharp enough to rend flesh. The legs were muscular, but thin. The face was the worst part. Too thin, too tall, with almost no neck below it. The mouth was a circle with white, jagged teeth pointing out of it. "Agreed" was heard. The voice was deep and scratchy. It resonated with itself, bouncing off walls, amplifying itself.
And then Marcius was back. Except he was quickly changing. His form shifted, limbs twisting in on themselves, while stretching out from his body. The clothes disappeared, and in their place was the featureless, sexless black skin of the horrifying figure that had just disappeared.
It was several seconds while the form changed. And then it dropped to all fours, head looking directly at Varro.
Varro, for his credit, was utterly unaffected. "Simple illusion magic stacked upon illusions. There is no 'Seventh Realm', nor any Syz'tklm."
The booming, self resonating voice returned. "You are mistaken, meat."
And with that, the being vanished off the side of the mirror.
"Varro," it spoke from directly behind the man. Varro quickly turned, seeing only a glimpse of the black figure before it disappeared again. He had been in the reflection of a golden shield.
"Varro." It continued. When Varro turned, the form would move.
Four times this repeated until Varro had had enough. He stood still, ignoring the voice, as it repeated, waiting for him to turn. The voice went silent, and Varro turned to where it had been. He faced the largest mirror in the room, but there was no figure to see.
Behind Varro, the form crawled up to the surface of the golden shield. It was fast, nimble. It pushed one hand upon the reflective surface, but from within. And then the hand emerged, and the body followed. The form was as silent as it was fast. The hard claws, that should have clacked upon the ground, were silent. The form clashed with Varro, and the man screamed. Instead of tearing, the form dragged Varro forwards, to the grand mirror.
Into the grand mirror.
As soon as they had entered, the form ran to the edge of the mirror, appearing again in the golden shield.
Varro took several moments to realize what happened.
"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?"
The booming voice slowly faded, as Marcius returned to his previous form. "I have made my point. You can no longer prevent my conversation with your pupil."
Marcius finished his shift. "Now, Orcus, thank you for obliging me. I shall rid him from your mirror once I have finished discussing with the student, if that is alright?"
Let us toast for the dead as we drown ourselves in despair
TAG @zeethesixth
WORDS 1644
NOTES PM ME FOR ANY QUESTIONS.
As anticipated, almost all eyes, both physical and spiritual concentrated their attention to the rather singular entity residing within the confines of the mirror's reflective surface. If Marcius intended to stage a noteworthy entrance in Orcus' already unorthodox court, they very much succeeded. Then again, that would assume the myth of the timeworn folk figure being a sovereign of an independent realm, which was of course untrue despite popular belief. The ill-fated territory now inhabited by Orcus and his followers belonged to no one kingdom, state, tribe or even clan and has remained as such prior to both Roman expansion and even the War of Traitors. Although the empire's age of conquest had long passed, the fact that several military forts that scattered across the Limes Germanicus (Germanic Frontier) were now around a 100 miles away from his residence proved to be quite the bother. Before he knew it, he and basically everyone else became cognizant to the inevitability of Roman influence. Perhaps a couple centuries in the past Orcus may have forcibly expelled the imperial meddlers, it is now palpable that they required aid from the civilized world if more people were to unavoidably flock under his wing.
As for the arrogant fool, Titus Cassius Varro, his display of self-imporance before the presence of an equally haughty individual spoke volumes about the current state of Roman politics. His heavy handed plea for his assistance at the prospect of returning to Emperor Constantinus empty handed was a testament to that despite his subtle disdain for Orcus' kind which he could discern from the tangibly prudent tone of the stateman's voice during their earlier negotiations. A couple more dumbfounded reapers approached nearby to further inspect the abnormal creature. Phaedra herself appeared equally puzzled underneath the veneer of her collected countenance, the rather showy performance would have quickly been disregarded as mere illusions by the more aged and venerable of the dead but that does not appear to be the case here. "That... thing lacks a physical body... he is no normal human...." Phaedra wheezed out. Sigibert and a handful of his band soon approached the spectacle of an arguably typical Roman debate at its rawest, most personal form.
Nevertheless, as much as the domineering Varro should be held accountable for any ill-fate that may befall him due to hubris, Orcus knew well that he and his band of undead would be held responsible in the end. "What is that rogue spirit planning?" Sigibert queried in Latin to which Phaedra promptly replied "That is no spirit..." Upon hearing the reaper’s remark, Sigibert's usually aloof expression changed as he turned to his people, raised his arm slightly and clenched it to a fist, signaling the spectral spirits to be on the guard. As for Orcus, he left his subordinates to their own devices for now. As much as Varro and Marcius remained embroiled in their powerplay, the lich placidly anticipated the argument to reach its boiling point, only then would he bear witness to the mirror dweller's true potential. The target of Marcius' business was apparently not with the esteemed statesman and quaestor, but with one of his two disciples. One of them, a young man with curly, marble brown hair and almond shaped hazel eyes donned a stern and rather irked expression. In contrast to the other younger looking male whose uneasiness was tangible, possessing noticeably lighter features with medium length ash blonde hair and wide, forest green eyes.
Before long, Marcius' provocations incited Varro to combat. As if on cue, the older student handed him a rather thick codex and upon flipping through the pages, recited a whimsical verse in his vociferous and imposing voice. What a shame indeed that his otherwise grand spell fell upon deaf ears. Following a few seconds of silence, a number of Germanic spirits let out a chuckle, Sigibert himself barely containing his amusement. The dueling customs of magic using humans could well be analogous to the Germanic trial of combat and yet its prim and overtly decorous undertones were always a curious spectacle. Despite the shameful display, Varro maintained his ostensibly composed countenance although his hasty replies to the anomalous being's warnings faintly exhibited the vexation the old man felt. Afterwards, Marcius procured a codex of his own, the very act compelled the old man's morose eyes to widen slightly, a rather underwhelming reaction considering what was to come. In an instant, Marcius' form morphed into a tableau resembling a high caliber hex summon. It then spoke, the voice loud enough to reverberate within the marble walls of the mausoleum.
The figure's form began contorting in the most grotesque way, this time altering its appearance akin to that of an even more superior hex summon. Orcus and the more seasoned of his adherents retained their levelheadedness, in addition to the unperturbed Varro who similarly to everyone else, initially perceived the performance to be mere illusions. Then the creature vanished, the sound of its voice drawing all eyes to the reflective surface of an ornamental shield of gold fashioned to a style resembling an ancient Hoplite's shield used in the War of Traitors. "The creature teleports... this is no common illusion, Strategos..." Phaedra whispered to Orcus in her preferred dialect of Greek. The lich could only nod amidst Marcius' performance. Already Varro's younger disciple began to sweat profusely whereas the older one tried in vain to maintain his stern visage only to gradually falter. Then, a most outlandish sight as the almost surreal specimen quickly materialized its monstrous physique from the surface of the ornamental shield onto the physical realm. Orcus and his longtime followers could discern at that very moment Marcius' intention to strike. Already, some of the three dozens of spirits in their incorporeal forms revealed their material bodies upon the sight of this now very real monster.
Immediately afterwards, Sigibert bellowed in the Germanic tongue "Brothers! Sisters! Defend the Roman-" Suddenly, just as a male reaper strode forth whilst preparing to charge the uncanny beast with spear in hand, a magical barrier of darkness prevented any body or spirits from coming near Marcius. There Orcus stood, his hand raised after conjuring up the said field of translucent darkness just as the creature's claws collided with Varro's body, watching as the Roman statesman and magus was warped into the ornate glass mirror in mere seconds. "Stand down, let them be!" Orcus dictated on a whim, which then compelled the now numerous and armed undead corps to acquiesce. The barrier was set up such that Varro's pupils and of course, the two inside the mirror were trapped. "Phaedra" Orcus uttered, upon which the reaper, still wielding the Rod of Nergal in both hands, followed Orcus into the conjured barrier. Almost immediately after proceeding into the field, Varro's dark haired protege who was now clearly agitated cried out "MONSTER!" after which the young man soon faced Orcus, not even bothering to hide his disdainful expression.
"Y-y-you... make the mirror spirit release the Magister at once!" The Magus blurted out to which Phaedra hissed and briskly walked towards him. "Make no mistake Roman... the mirror dweller is not one of us..." she then slowly unsheathed her Kopis (Heavy Knife) and began to point it at the young man whilst inducing fear in him. "It would be wise... to watch your tongue before our Dominus..." the woman wheezed out in warning which then proved effective at silencing the rather haughty magus, reducing him to an anxious mess similar to his blonde junior. "Ease it with the threats Phaedra, these are our guests, whether you like it or not." Orcus nonchalantly remarked while facing the mirror now containing both Marcius and Varro. Having reverted back to a human form, Marcius inquiry was met with a lighthearted reply from Orcus "Very well, although I request that he be returned to this realm unscathed. For now, feel free to finish your business with..." Now that he thinks about it, Varro's disciples have been strangely silent up until now. Before long, Orcus gave Marcius a sudden nod "Excuse me..."
Slowly, he approached the two students, still being kept at bay by Phaedra who upon Orcus' gesture, handed him back the specter which he then hung by his belt. The young men's apprehension were now ever so apparent despite Orcus and Phaedra having already nullified their ominous auras. "You need not fret children, I merely wish to ask for your names, I do believe that a proper introduction is in order, is it not?" Orcus queried as he arched his head downwards to face the two, donning a rather weary smile in an attempt to lighten the mood. As anticipated, the one with the curly hair replied first, "Lucius Cornelius Gracchus, I... apologize for my earlier transgressions Dominus, p-please find it in your heart to forgive me!" The young man heartily blurted out "Do not concern yourself, you were merely acting in the best interest of your Magister, although if it helps, you are forgiven I suppose..." Orcus responded in a rather laid-back and surprisingly thoughtful manner shortly before turning to the much more timid younger man. "Do not be shy my boy, no harm will come to you or your people I assure you." The lad then looked up upon Orcus' assurance "A-ave... I-I-I... I am Flavius Pelagius... at y-your service."
With Gracchus and Pelagius’ introductory rites completed, Orcus redirected his attention back to Marcius, approaching the mirror shortly afterwards. "Alright then, Marcius of the Mirror, do carry on with the matter although I must once again ask that no harm will come to them. After which we may further discuss this... business of yours." Before the ancient lich realized it, he had already become an arguably adept diplomat through years of forging contracts with spirits despite his clear inhibitions against further associating himself with others.
Marcius wished to stop as the spirits popped into reality, but it was too late. To pull back now risked losing his footing and impaling Varro. At best, that would perturb Orcus, and at worst it would anger him.
Marcius felt confident in taking on a spoiled magus.
A Lich lord, on the other hand, was a much scarier prospect. There may well be only one world where Marcius could defeat the Lich, and that one world might as well not exist.
It was a great relief Marcius was saved from a rather painful death. There was great risk to leaving the mirrors, and it had been avoided this time.
Not total relief, however. Orcus' walls were reflected into the mirror, and Marcius did not want to test if he could safely climb over them. This meant the man stood next to Varro. While it was true that magic was weak here, it was not nonexistent, and knives were just as effective here as without.
Well, not quite, but that was a special circumstance.
While Orcus and his fellows discussed with the two free Romans, Marcius spoke in hush tones to Varro.
"Attack me and regret it, Magus."
"What could you do, now that you have dragged me here? You yourself professed to magic being weak here." Varro was just as quiet in his response. The matter of his words aside, he remained still, watching not through the "edge" of the mirror, but instead looking to Marcius and observing the other's reflections.
"The question is not what I could do, but what I could not. I was rushed. The magic that has planted you in here is simple. Relatively speaking. You have no safeguards. You have no training. And I am not certain you would survive the mirror being broken." Marcius was calm, but there was venom in his voice. He had wanted to have this conversation from another part of the room. Not within a few paces of Varro.
"Safeguards from what?"
"The 'Seventh Realm' and associated things. Look around the edges of this world, where the mirrors do not reflect more. The blackness. Look outward, and in some directions you can see other pockets. In other directions, there is only the blackness. The walls prevent leaving the mirrors. But there are cracks. If you pay close attention, you can find a crack. Follow a good crack, and you can jump to another mirror."
"And if you follow a bad crack?"
Marcius looked directly into Varro's eyes. The movement was abrupt, and the serious look upon Marcius' face caught Varro off guard. "You meet those beings on less than good terms. Trust me when I say you do not want to meet them."
Varro frowned. This was a lot to take in, and he was still unconvinced of its truth. "The training, then, is to identify the good cracks from bad?"
"Among other, less important things. Like remembering to observe through the mirror instead of at their reflections."
Varro frowned, and turned to look towards where the mirror surface was, looking out into the world. The words spoken still came from behind him. The reflections spoke, rather than sound coming in through the glass.
"And what is this of mirror breaking?"
"When I stopped by your school, several of your students tried to... let us say 'end' me. They were unsuccessful, obviously. In self defense, I trapped them within mirrors. But I used a much better spell for them. Well crafted, intricate. They will be freed upon the breakage of glass, with only harm that they brought upon themselves. You, on the other hand, were a rush job. I could guide you out with ease, but if I were to abandon you? There may be no saving you, unless someone manages to replicate my work."
"Ah." Varro was silent. His body had been stiff for the conversation, but now it relaxed. Not that he relaxed. He just now had reason to not attack.
It was a little longer before Orcus finished his introductions with the Romans, of which Marcius had partially caught.
"I would never dream of harming them," Marcius said. "Syz'tklm is by far my best... trained is perhaps the wrong word, but it is a similar concept. I never intended harm to Varro or his subjects, only sought to handle them swiftly and temporarily." Marcius stressed the last word.
"Flavius!" Marcius called out. "I do believe it is you who has studied summoning?"
"A-aye, sir."
"Were my earlier thoughts correct, that you are self taught?"
"I would not s-say that, sir. Varro and the others taught me lots."
Marcius sighed, and dug around in his cloak for a piece of paper. "And who, might I ask, taught you this?"
Around the edges were numbers, letters, and symbols. Not easy stuff, certainly. At the center of the sheet was a diagram. Circular in overall nature, it was... odd in other ways. Most magical circles displayed a kind of symmetry. This displayed none. Not upon the paper, at least. Marcius knew of its hidden symmetry, however. "This is quite the odd circle. I doubt most people could perform any sort of hex upon this circle. Who showed you this? Did you trace it from some book?"
"N-no, sir. I did not trace it."
Marcius smirked. "So, you figured this out on your own, then?"
"Y-yes sir."
"Tell me then, why is this object that looks so haphazard and lopsided actually symmetric."
What followed was about a minute of geometric talk that can be boiled down to "It is a shadow of a two dimensional triangular lattice on a skewed plane within third dimensional space."
"Marvelous! I knew you were gifted. While I believe we could share much, I fear we would bore those around us! We should schedule a time to have a proper conversation. For now, I shall leave you with this."
Marcius drew out another sheet of paper. This was similar to the last, but unfinished. There were a number of crossed out sections of mathematical workings. Marcius pointed to one section that was circled three or four times over. "Use -1/12 as the solution to the infinite sum. You won't get the right answer, but it should give you an insight into how to properly complete it."
Flavius' eyes opened wide, and he started looking around him frantically. This lasted but two seconds before he stopped, and looked once again to Marcius.
"How- how did you get those sheets? They were behind a magical barrier!"
"Tell me, what all did you keep behind the barrier?"
"My more difficult works, um, letters from my mother, and a mirror..." his voice trailed off towards the end.
"Worry not, I did not take your originals, and know that I have no reason to steal the knowledge upon these sheets. What I have with me are merely their reflections. If I just left them go, eventually they will disappear from this mirror and return to the one in your room. Though with the number of beings here, that may be a significant amount of time."
Flavius nodded, not fully understanding, but understanding enough.
"Now, Orcus, I have some business with you, but would prefer the Romans not be in the room at the same time. Would you rather I release Varro now, or leave him for the time being and we shall go to another room? Any besides the Romans are free to stay."
Let us toast for the dead as we drown ourselves in despair
TAG @zeethesixth
WORDS 1191
NOTES PM ME FOR ANY QUESTIONS.
Having analyzed the two young magi's expressions, Orcus could well hypothesize to whom Marcius will direct his attention to. One who cowered beneath a veneer of audacity in a heedless attempt at disguising his apprehension and preserving his ego, while another remained perceptively vigilant in spite of their diffident display. Flavius Pelagius was unceremoniously summoned afterwards, by his praenomen (Roman first name) nonetheless, if that was even his real name. The lad who upon closer inspection, appeared to be barely in his 17th year, was not at all disconcerted by Marcius' otherwise ungracious transgression of customary Roman etiquette. Perhaps Marcius was just that condescending towards the young man of apparently inferior social status as evidenced by their lack of a proper nomen (Roman surname) implying his non-citizen or even enslaved status, another explanation would of course be that Marcius was not even Roman himself explaining his disinclination for prissy formalities. In fact, Pelagius' appearance and to a lesser extent, his speech patterns indicate his Northern, possibly Germanic roots.
The barrier of darkness enclosed in on the six individuals, the ones in the mirror included, may have distorted both sound and light externally yet the slightly obscured figures of various undead both afloat and on foot prompted Orcus to sigh. They may no longer have the objective of vanquishing the outlandish entity of the mirror realm although their incessant fawning over Orcus and his affairs has become so commonplace it ceased to be even the slightest bit irritating ages ago. Before the jaded lich knew it, a smirk appeared on his face, it would not be long before his pointless, lackadaisical life become but a fragment of countless memories should his foresight proved accurate. His deep, listless eyes merely gazed at the anomalous entity before him, curiosities such as a Human soul residing within a mirror proved to be a refreshing sight to a dead man who was on the verge of thinking he had seen everything. The fact that both Marcius and Pelagius spoke in a lexicon of Greek terms which Orcus could only roughly perceive to be Theoretical Arithmetic only hammered the notion of him knowing so little despite millennia of having lingered this perpetually afflicted Earth.
It cannot be denied that Humanity had advanced considerably since the cataclysmic war, with the amount of breakthroughs regarding magic accessible to humans ever expanding. How unfortunate indeed, that the living are innately doomed to repeat the same mistakes over and over. Orcus knew, literally everyone else could feel it too, the tangible omens of a looming dark age. It was an idyllic few centuries of tranquility if Orcus could say so himself, albeit a sadly strenuous one.... Before long, harrowing visions of unspeakable horrors once again plagued the cursed man's mind, a mind that has truly began to decay at long last... Was this truly the fate bestowed onto him... by the God of Death who so pitifully embraced him?...
A gentle tug on his rough cloak immediately banished such ominous spells, not even realizing the cyan glow emanating from his eyes throughout the brief episode. With the faint glow soon fading away, the lich lord turned his imposing figure towards his loyal companion, eliciting a puzzled expression from Orcus' angular features as he beheld Phaedra's upturned gaze a full feet below his eye level. With her face carrying undertones of unease, she soon uttered solemnly "My apologies... it would appear that my soul sensors are malfunctioning... for there is surely no logical way such a specimen... could be human..." In response, Orcus merely shut his eyes shortly before briefly snickering under his breath. Directing his attention towards the now smiling blonde, young magi approaching a rather sulky Gracchus, his long fingers hastily patted the woman's dark, intricately braided hair shortly before leaving her to her own devices. Knowing her, she would most likely strain herself in internal discourse for a few minutes before dismissing the matter entirely. Orcus on the other hand, was already strolling over towards Marcius and Varro.
Orcus' engrossment in their conversation may have faltered towards the end, a shame that he was unable to eavesdrop of Marcius and Varro's otherwise informative exchange with regards to the mirror dweller's abilities. Slightly raising his left hand whilst lethargically drifting forth, he beckoned the still fretful Phaedra to his side shortly before the barrier of darkness disintegrated almost instantaneously. Bands of men and women clad in both Roman and Native Germanic attires now encircled them, a majority of them displaying the wounds, burns, mutilations and other attributes pertaining to their untimely demise, a few of whom floated and all of them now displaying their corporeal forms. "Huldin and... the... Easterner, come one over." Orcus half-heatedly called out in Persian, not even bothering to pronounce the oriental fellow's outlandish name. Before long, two foreign-looking men emerged from the crowd, one who had a shaved head, clan in silk embroidered with Persian motifs and the other Asiatic looking man with his long hair tied to a bun clad in a long, flowing robe fastened by a simple sash through the waist.
Orcus then shot Sigibert a tired glance, nodding which then prompted the late Germanic chieftain to bellow out "Brothers, Sisters, AT EASE!" after which the crowd dispersed, most of whom seemingly vanished as they reverted back to their ethereal forms. Their centuries-long relationship rendered speech unnecessary for Sigibert to discern the lich's demands. Immediately afterwards, he directed his attention to Marcius and promptly replied "I see, very well then... please do release Varro for he has... urgent matters to attend to." Whilst uttering his response, Orcus could be seen glancing towards a stoic Huldin. Before Marcius could release Varro as promised, he then turned to Gracchus and Pelagius. "I don't suppose that the Magister or any of you two could converse in the Persian tongue, yes?" Orcus queried to which both nodded. "Magister Varro is well-versed in the tongue..." Gracchus queried shortly before he examined the strange looking fellow in oriental garments. "Is he Seres (Chinese)?" an intrigued Pelagius suddenly interjected prior to Orcus' nod.
Meanwhile, the evidently frantic Seres began a brief in a strange, almost alien-like tongue which soon induced Huldin and the Oriental man to excuse themselves before Orcus, not even bothering to wait for the old Magister. The Seres, in a peculiar display of deference knelt before the two Romans and prostrated himself much to both of their dismay. The man then began frenetically spouting out in his native tongue to which Huldin translated accordingly "Greetings Romans, I, Wu Yi of the Celetial Empire of the Great Jin bear terrible news..." As such, Orcus left the foreign delegation and the Romans to their own affairs, as far as he was concerned, their contract was completed. "Phaedra, do escort the tributes to the... monument outside..." A pity indeed, his previously humble shrine of wooden carvings and runes had been so ostentatiously transformed into a bronze statue. Rubbing his forehead all the while, he soon closed the distance between him and the mirror dweller. With all distractions aside, he grinned and casually continued. "Sorry about that, now, onto business."
"As you wish," Marcius would say after Orcus requested the roman freed.
"Play along, Varro. I do not want harm to come your way. Not here, at the least."
With that, Marcius walked up to Varro and grabbed the Magus' hand. Marcius began to walk forwards, towards the edge of the mirror. He placed Varro's palm atop the glass and pushed. The hand breached through into the material world. "Walk". And Varro did such. He walked forwards, and was soon entirely without the mirror, while his reflection walked back in. Varro visibly shivered for a moment. Likely from his heart jumping back into action. Anatomy was weird in the mirror realm, and the transition was weirder still.
Marcius watched as the Romans made their way out of the room. He knew that Flavius would become a great force in forwarding the field of summons, if the boy was not denied his curiosity. Perhaps the lack of a formal learning is what empowered him to advance so far so quickly.
Regardless, there was now business to handle.
"Before I get to the matter of the business, I think some things should be made clear. I originally came here following Varro, and planned little business with you yourself. I have since come to realize that the Romans have asked for your assistance in an endeavor. That endeavor does involve myself, in a minor manner. With the suddenness of me realize this, however, comes a lack of preparation. I will make my request regardless, but expect little as I come with nothing to make heeding it worthwhile."
Marcius sighed. "Furthermore, illusion magic is not entirely wrong. This is not my actual form. I hope you do not mind that I prefer to keep my true self hidden. Though I shall swear on my life that I am, or at least was, a human (and have not been affected by vampiry or lycanthropism)."
Marcius backed up from the mirror a few steps. "I believe you have been asked by the Romans to assist in a purge of Angels from within the Roman government."
Marcius paused. "I have no intention to prevent you achieving this goal, nor do I think I could stop you if I did have the intention. But I ask that you spare two angels in specific. I care not if their retain their positions within the Roman government, only that they remain alive. If you were to agree, I would give you the information required to identify them."
Let us toast for the dead as we drown ourselves in despair
TAG @zeethesixth
WORDS 1207
NOTES PM ME FOR ANY QUESTIONS.
As soon Varro emerged from the glass' reflective surface, the gingerly articulated tones of Huldin's exotic foreign tongue eventually resonated with the Magister's learned mind prompting him to hurriedly dart towards the rather unorthodox delegation. Orcus merely gave the statesman an ostensible glance to detect undertones of panic. Then, Varro suddenly and frantically turned to face Orcus before blurting out "Right Orcu- erm, Dominus, I shall return posthaste after this minor issue... err, ah right, do note that I had already sent word to some Barbarian-...apologies, Germanic hosts of your return, expect them to arrive soon-" Suddenly, Gracchus hastily intervened, whispering urgently to the old man only to have his hand casually swatted off seconds afterwards. Nodding, Varro’s then left to address the situation regarding the Empire and a certain scourge from the East. Little does almost anyone here know of the sheer magnitude of the predicament they shall eventually undergo. Hopefully, the apparently knowledgeable mirror dweller would at least be aware.
Before too long, Phaedra was already in the middle of escorting the impromptu diplomatic exchange which should have customarily been rejected if it were not for the grave message the late Seres minister bore with him. Already, the furious tones of a vice-filled old man echoed throughout the newly built dome shaped structure, eliciting some instinctive reactions from both his students, Pelagius in particular. Orcus merely needed to witness specific acts pertaining to one's behavior to infer his own hypothesis with regards to their condition. The supposedly talented youth, Pelagius carries with him a visage akin to that of his several forlorn undead followers. A docile young lad possessing striking physical features exotic to Romans and is evidently of lower status, Orcus could only foresee either a victim or a monster out of the young magi in the future if his theory regarding Varro's true nature proved accurate. The Empire and its subjects have grown decadent these past few centuries indeed, even at the expense of other less fortunate peoples.
Truth be told, during his exchange with Varro prior to bearing witness to the utter desecration of what was once his sanctuary, Orcus had to suppress the urge to groan in displeasure. By rebelling at the most inopportune of times against the very beings that enabled their civilization to significantly thrive, they have effectively lost all hopes of withstanding the demon hordes of the east. Should the news of the horde spread amongst the masses, Rome may as well cease to exist even before the horde's arrival. If humanity still retained even the slightest bit of rational thought, then it would be optimal for these mere humans to cast aside their pride and seek compromise with their Angel overlords to combat the Demon menace. Alternatively, Orcus would not be surprised if Rome decides to instead ally with the Demons in order to free themselves from the hegemony of self-righteous Angels. That is if man had not degenerated to the point of no return, and in their hubris find it feasible to drive out the Angels before standing their ground against vengeful Demons.
Nevertheless, Orcus maintained his apathy having anticipated the decline of the Empire ages ago, and as much as it dismays him, his followers too shall suffer all the same. Nothing Orcus does matters in that respect, although the presence of the mirror dweller somehow alleviated the already dimming embers of hope he had regarding the breaking of the curse. He would want nothing more than to be liberated from his harrowing affliction prior to the forthcoming turmoil and utter horror as cautioned by his ominous visions, if they were to be trusted that is. As such, the lich's imposing figure now stood mere inches away from the mirror, maintaining his veneer of hospitality whilst his sunken eyes gazed onto that of Marcius' all throughout the dialoge. Upon discerning the mirror dweller's considerable courtesy as compared to when conversing with Varro, Orcus promptly responded. "Please Marcius, a plebeian such as myself is unworthy of such decorum, I was merely entertaining our uptight guest with the earlier display."
The Lich lord's tone and mannerisms have noticeably shifted to that of a more relaxed and easygoing one. "And please, such humility betrays your earlier persona." Orcus then remarked nonchalantly to which he soon added. "The eyes of a reaper do not lie my friend, for I know that what do you did earlier was no less than the alteration of reality itself. Calling it a mere illusion is an understatement. You need not be so humble. And whatever form you present yourself as matters not." Phaedra may doubt her inherent abilities though Orcus finds no reason for further misgivings, not that the mirror dweller's race even mattered. In addition to that, Marcius' wariness and reverence to Orcus was palpable. Though understandably skeptical of the peculiar individual's objective's at first, Orcus be assured of the mirror dweller's inclination to not earn the ire of him and his followers. Orcus maintained his inadvertently intimidating gaze whilst awaiting his guest's response and Marcius took a few steps back.
Having dealt with all distractions from his new objective provided Orcus time to unwind, things were rarely so hectic in his sanctuary prior to the inevitable Roman intervention. Regardless, Orcus had half-expected five years’ worth of unfinished and pending business to immediately catch up to him as soon as returning so at least he was not fully overwhelmed. Marcius soon replied, indicating his eavesdropping regarding the earlier exchange with Varro. His plan to make the unofficial diplomatic exchange a private matter by conducting negotiations amidst a walk in a decaying bog proved fruitless in the end, though Orcus finds no reason to hold it against Marcius. It would appear as though the mirror dweller is acquainted with a couple of angels who was apparently worthy enough in his eyes to warrant an exchange with the undead leader for their protection. "I see... so you wish to form a contract then?" Orcus queried in a rather blase manner.
It then became apparent that the mirror dweller was sadly unaware of the great Demon army and their human allies amassing in the Eastern Steppes. Although it may take years or even decades for such a large-scale army to plow through the Near Eastern kingdoms and tribes on their way westwards, it would be in Rome's best interest to brace themselves for reckoning. "I believe that Rome- no, we all have more pressing matters to fret about than this petty squabble between Humans and Angels, though I cannot deny my inclination to ally with Humans for... the sake of my "followers", especially considering the Angel's undying and rather gratuitous disdain for me and my kind...". Honestly speaking, it killed Orcus a bit on the inside, merely acknowledging the countless undead who decided to flock around as followers. "Regardless, your contract shall be made valid once the diplomatic exchange outside concludes... In the meantime..." Orcus then shifts his glance towards the Rod of Nergal hanging by his belt.
"I believe you possess the ability to transport bodies to the mirror realm yes?... If so, then might I ask that we conduct the following exchange there... for I myself have some business with you my friend."
Marcius' tone notably shifted after Orcus made his statement. "You are no plebeian, though I prefer the more relaxed speaking, so sure." Several more things were said between the two parties. Marcius' eyes rose as Orcus described the existence of some more pressing matters. Not much, but enough to easily confirm Orcus' thought that Marcius was in the dark about that development.
"Ah, well, yes, I do possess the power bring others within the mirrors. It is... a process. Varro's induction was hastened due to circumstance. If you were to request entry, I would ask to first make preparations."
Marcius removed a piece of chalk from his pocket and held it aloft. If Orcus seemed to approve, he would begin to sketch a circle. The circle itself was pointless, Marcius had no inclination to magic, but it would seem like a circle of protection, but altered to project outward rather than in. If asked what it was, Marcius would reply "A simple stabilization ritual. It should allow you to leave via breaking the mirror, in the worst case scenario, and also plug up the holes at the edges of the mirror." Of course, this was also a lie. Marcius' power worked that way all the time, he had no ability to prevent those two facts. While some extremely experienced individuals had managed to leave the realm themselves, both through the mirror and through the holes at the edge, this was only after years of concentrated study.
As Marcius drew, he spoke. "A general rule I follow is to only drag in mages and mundanes. A general rule, not a hard rule. You may have overheard that magic is weak in here. I cannot say the same about other sources of power. Gifted, for example, rarely show a decrease of power within the mirror realm. Some even show an increase." This referred to Marcius himself. "Of the non-human races I have brought in, those who change shape seem entirely unaffected. I am uncertain how it will affect the undead."
It was a few minutes for Marcius to complete the drawing. "Now, if you would approach the mirror and place one hand upon, or at least near, it?" Marcius waited for that action, approaching the mirror's surface himself. Marcius would grab for Orcus' hand, and drag it into the mirror world. If everything went as expected, Orcus would then be able to walk in himself, no longer requiring Marcius' hand around him. As such, Marcius would back up and observe the newcomer to his world.
[[Feel free to flavor the affects on Orcus however you want. Most of the affects make the living into an almost-undead. No need to eat/drink/breath, no heart beat, limited to no aging... etc. And how it affects Orcus power wise is up in the air.]]
Let us toast for the dead as we drown ourselves in despair
TAG @zeethesixth
WORDS 1065
NOTES PM me for any questions.
The peculiar entity before him appeared all too human so far, from the modulation of his voice to the shifting of his facial muscles. Such subtle gestures were enough to disclose to Orcus the mirror dweller's obliviousness to the imminent disturbance thousands of miles due east. Given the sheer distance of the catastrophe at hand, perhaps such a response should have been anticipated. This did enable Orcus to briefly gauge the magnitude of Marcius' capabilities in accordance to his comprehension of it thus far. Orcus initially remained uncertain as to whether or not this somewhat enigmatic specimen was either a God in disguise, or merely another unfortunate soul consigned to his presence. As such, the latter instance eventually emerged to be more plausible. "Go ahead Marcius, prepare what must be prepared." Orcus declared whilst his fingers were in the process of detaching the brooch of his woolen cloak.
In the meanwhile, a handful of the Lich's now expanded congregation of miscellaneous undead species retained their bewildered and inquisitive gazes from a distance. An elderly looking woman clad in grayish robes soon approached Orcus as he removed the fabric that once blanketed his hefty figure. Almost instinctively, the woman extended her gaunt arms towards the Lich with her head lowered, after which Orcus nonchalantly handed her the cloak. All the while, phlegmatic eyes locked on to piece of chalk procured by Marcius, prompting him to nod his head in approval. A circle was drawn before Marcius conveyed the rationale behind this. "I see..." Orcus coolly expressed. He must confess himself confounded by said explanation as he was quite conscious to the fact that human abilities either intrinsically materialize in the form of gifts, or have to be acquired through utilization of magical arts such as tomes, charms, hexes and even curses. Cases of supposedly gifted humans being genuinely capable of magic were virtually unheard of, at least so far. Then again, whether or not Marcius is even human remained ambiguous.
Marcius proceeded to add in more details to the circle, enough to imply the notion of it being a hex circle. Whilst still in the process of engraving some exotic-looking symbols onto the hex circle, Marcius reasserted the repercussions should a magic user enter mirror realm. The risk of one's magical output diminishing upon entry to the mirror has been established, something that the ill-fated Lich actually found congenial. "That is most intriguing..." Orcus commented prior to redirecting his attention to his undead cohorts over the distance. Being well acquainted with the small minority of vocal yet rather obsessive individuals within this assembly, an announcement is almost always necessary lest the fervent ones turn unreasonably suspicious, especially considering the outlandish nature of the magic about to occur. "Attention brothers and sisters!" Orcus declared aloud, after which the cluster of undead beings drifting about took heed and halted to listen.
Upon garnering the full attention of those within the near vicinity, he flatly stated "I will now partake in our guest's ritual in which I shall be transported to a different realm for a period of time. For the love of Thanatos, desist from trying to follow me nor should any of you even attempt to break the mirror in my absence...". A brief pause soon followed to which the surfeited Lich promptly peered towards a couple or so individuals who were notorious for their wayward dispositions. "I shall... entrust to the reapers any of whom manage to fail in adhering to such straightforward demands." Orcus warned, the weariness in his tones all too apparent, insinuating his rather lax authority if that should even be the correct term. "At ease!" he exclaimed, signaling the group to resume their own affairs.
Orcus soon diverted his attention back to the nearly completed hex circle, although the otherwise perceptive Lich must confess himself puzzled by the hex circle's motifs. Its presentation conveys the illusion of the said hex circle being of the teleportation variety whilst similarly exhibiting patterns which Orcus is incognizant of. Marcius artfully managed to render the hex in such a way that it appeared authentic for the most part. Nonetheless, the method in which Orcus was to gain entry to the anomalous realm mattered not. Such is the case for a dead man with a death wish, the stark apathy resulting from his curse having reached the point of absurdity. In accordance to Marcius' instructions, Orcus strolled towards the mirror without delay while he witnessed Marcius casually slipping into the mirror's surface. Upon nearing the mirror dweller's reflection, Orcus calmly extended his hand towards the ostensibly virtual image of Marcius' outstretched hand
Shortly afterwards, Marcius’ hand emerged from the mirror's reflective surface, taking hold of the Lich's hand prior to hauling the length of his sluggish arm inwards. Just as Orcus anticipated, his arm remained intact amidst this trans-dimensional undertaking. It did not take long for the entirety of his physical form to be fleetingly warped and distorted whilst in the process of being drawn into another world. In mere milliseconds, Orcus had been completely and seemingly engulfed by the large ornamental mirror. The transportation itself was too ephemeral for any noteworthy analysis. There he was, standing as he now lingered inside a separate dimensional plane which is supposedly and visibly congruous to that of his own. True enough, a wide-eyed Orcus examined the nearby surroundings only to feast his eyes upon encompassing planes of blackness due left, right and upwards in correspondence to the mirror's edge. Orcus turned back only to be greeted by the enlarged face of Sigibert, his prying eyes clearly gawking at him.
Beyond the oculus of the mirror which was encircled by an expanse of darkness, was the realm of reality where Sigibert now stood. Almost immediately afterwards, Orcus turned away and disregarded any of Sigibert's attempt at communication. He merely averted his gaze towards Marcius’ general direction. Orcus was visibly confounded by his current situation, though not as much as one would expect for a having traversed through another dimension. If his bodily functions were not already numbed before, it certainly was now, nothing he was too unaccustomed to really. He then placed a hand at the head of his Specter hanging by the side of his belt and much to his disappointment, still sensed the scourge from within. "This is... certainly an interesting world you live in..." Orcus uttered blankly.
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