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Origins: Magnilia

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Tentacle
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Origins: Magnilia

Post by Tentacle »

Origins: Magnilia

I suppose everyone has a beginning, all beginnings, though, from what I have learned, have one thing in common. They all start with tears.

I can still remember the story now, as my nursemaid tossed me down into the corner and near ripped the hair from my head. She began to plait it for yet another ceremony, "Magnilia," she said, "We don't want to hurt you; well, You deserve it, Can't you see?" she always asked me that, "Can't you see?" "Magnilia, You are not like us. Sure, You may look like us, speak our tongue, practice the rights and even have favor in the eye of the goddess, but you", she said almost as if glancing upon a half-digested carcass, "You are a freak, an abomination, Child we are not the only ones who live in these dark depths. There are those that flay the minds of all they encounter, Feeding of their mind and their very essence. This energy seems to flux, though, and it washes over our cities; there are many stillbirths in this cycle. But once in a great while, one survives".

I couldn't believe what I was hearing; It made no sense to me; what was mind flaying? What did it have to do with me? Why was I different? Of course, she would tell me. If only to be cruel. Such was our way.

"Have you never wondered why people look at you differently? Why are you sickened by so much of what we enjoy? You would have been killed long ago, but fate seems to be on your side." she laughed darkly then and snapped my head around to face hers; I remember her cold skin against mine and those cold eyes peering right into mine as her last words echoed through my being, "You will not survive."

The tears burned hot in their ducts, though I dare not let them show.

I, of course, did. There seemed to always be an accident in my favor. A servant sneaking up behind me once knocked over an urn; the creature inside quickly rose up to devour her. Another time I was being chased, I had nowhere to run, and my assailant tripped on a wet cobblestone and plunged the dagger deep into his heart. Strange things seemed to always keep me safe. Yet serve to make others blame and hate me even more.

When I came of age some very long, hard years later. I was sent as an emissary of sorts to the other houses. All those cold eyes, I can feel them even now as I pen this account. They were everywhere.

It was returning to my family's noble house after one of these duty sessions that my life changed forever. I sat quietly in the dim ambient light of the carriage, my cloak pulled tightly around me. As always, I was lost deep in thought. Trying to make sense of my existence. And all the things that made me different yet never quite grasped. It was almost as if people would run in fear and mock, but never were they willing to explain why.

I felt a tug and the edge of my cloak and thought nothing of it; I felt a hand upon my thigh, moving places I did not wish it to go. I looked up to meet the gaze of two dark, yet burning eyes, their surreal impression upon me overshadowed only by the pouting lips pulled back to reveal a sick and sinister smile.

The next thing I can recall was a thump and looking down to see the still hooded head roll onto the floor of the cabin. Feelings of dread that washed through me were only compounded by the slowness of time as I watched by blood-stained dagger clatter to the floor. The weapon landed next to the head, which had rolled over to stare at me. An innocent, almost angelic smile of one that could not have been much older than me now fixed its gaze on me. I had done this, and yet I did not think I had moved. I yelled for help, and it did not come; it hit me for a moment that screams such as mine must be all too common coming from the backs of carriages.

I stood and threw myself out the door without a moment's hesitation, barely skinning by my knee; for a moment, I cursed my resiliency, and once again, I was saved. I stood and began to run; I had never moved so fast in my life. I had no idea where I was running. But my head swam only with fear and self-loathing. I knew I just had to get out, or that head would follow me.

I made it out of my city; I know not how long or far I ran. But I know there came a time when I began to feel the burden lifted from me. It was during this period I came across a small camp of miners. As they slept, I would steal what meager food I could get my hand on. So many items I had never seen. I took to following them, listening to them. Soon I found myself understanding their words. During one such observation period, I learned some people followed gods who only did good! O, how my heart sang! I thought I had found my salvation at last!

For days I would follow these bands, watched silently as they struck down the vilest of foes with only their faith. I was in awe! There came I day when I dared to think myself worthy. I took into my possession one of their holy relics, and I swore myself to fight grand battles as they did. I vowed to strike down all minions of evil, especially those who flayed the minds of others, who had cursed me with their strange talents I had barely begun to grasp. And to take particular pleasure in sending to my god the spirits of the undead, those who sought to extend their life in ways most vile.

I fought with honor and vigor for so many years; the beauty of that evil never tore me. Swayed by their temples and their claims of holiness. Even after all this, there came through my final battle, after which my cudgel would no longer gleam. Or my cloaks sway softly in the dying wind from a mound and rapidly decaying foes as I stood upon their weak bones.

I entered a dark hall; it was nothing new. This time though, I could sense only vile being in the room with me. I dropped and rolled to the side of the room—still, no movement. I rushed at the chair and swung it around; I ran back and lost my footing, and the horrific sight before me, that head from my nightmares, so long forgotten, stared up at me with its cold yet angelic features. A burst of dark laughter, all I felt was a cold, such a cold it reached into my very body and seemed to lift me from the ground. I knew I had made a mistake, and I was going to pay.

Cold icy digits seemed to wind their way around all my limbs, ripping my armor and garments from me as some teasing wounds started to appear on my flesh. I could feel myself moving, but it was as if I was trapped inside a black womb; my mind told me the sound was so futile, why cry out? My body hung there limp. And soon, I could not think at all. I simply let myself sink. It just seemed better that way.

I awoke with a swollen face and body. My bones felt as if they were on the verge of losing all strength. It seemed like even my marrow hurt. I felt around on my hands and knees for some form of covering. And hastily wrapped me in a heavy burlap sheet I had found, then recoiled from the stench of a half-rotted corpse that grotesquely hung half out of a dunny pit. I tried to take it before finally giving up and tossing the fabric back into place and found the corner; At least nothing would come at me from behind.

I neither saw nor hear from anyone for days; I am sure one can imagine what things I was reduced too. I thought I would merely be left to die. It would come soon enough without water.

But no, night after night, my mind was tortured by strange manifestations; I would awake to find new bruises and lash marks upon me.

Oh, but how now I do know strange fates work both ways. It seemed, at last, all that luck, which had protected me, had run out.

I was sent for, carried almost tenderly after being wrapped in a soft velvet cover to a large, darkly decorated sitting room. I thought for a moment perhaps the manor had been vacated, and I was to be released. This proved to be a flawed assumption. A dark entity washed over me, and I fell to my knees. It spoke such words of praise and beauty and filled me with such knowledge, all of which I was forbade to know by my oaths.

At last, I thought it was all over; I was brought to my feet and forced to drink from a small vial; I thought how precious, after all this time, being denied my people's acceptance, I was to die by poison. Instead, I was healed. As I stood there perplexed and utterly confused, a pair of deadly sharp fangs punctured my neck. I screamed out and beat at my assailant, but this seemed to only motivate his passions.

Then he stopped.

I felt a cup being pressed to my lips, its contents cold and seemingly spiced as it was poured down my throat. This time I thought, indeed, it was poison. For o god how it burnt! My insides were fire! I felt like my skin was melting from my body; I waited for the darkness to take me.

Instead, light reached out for me, so warm and inviting, At last! I had been found worthy! My god was here to save me! Instead, I found myself under only a cold, unfeeling glare. Words sounded deep within me, and in an instant, I knew peace was not to be mine. For that was no poison, not indeed, that I had taken into me. It was a foul concoction - tasting strongly of pungent herbs and a marked coppery metallic base, the very sort I had spent the majority of my life fighting against. In that instance of revelation, I knew, a new form of crisp hard reality, my god had forsaken me.

I left that moment of despair only to find myself at the gate of the manor, naked, cold, covered in filth I did not want to imagine. Tossed into a carriage and driven deep into the caverns, and cast out once more. I remember not where I wandered; I only remember trying to force all this from my head. Finally, coming to rest under the small trickle of water from a stalactite. I slept then, and for days it seemed. When I awoke, I was in a strange new city.

God, the differences, I came to know the purpose. And through that purpose, slowly, but ever there, the darkness began to surface. Even my dreams were not to be free of nightmares.

Though as the darkened nights grow near, So many memories are recalled. When so many came to Asmodan, I always wondered why he took me aside and taught me. I was volatile, a no one.

And so many were more than willing to bow down.

The chants and jeers.

The woman throwing themselves at his feet when their lovers left their sides.

I remember all the secret meetings and plots; I remember everyone like some sadistic casting list. I see so much now, so much of what he taught me, showed me, how our stories were so close though I never understood. Perhaps it is because I have only now come to be able to recall my past, all that time spent as the pale-skinned little girl, without a care in the dream.

And well, now I understand what I am. And what is to come.
"She spins her golden web between us and the dream." - The Matron ☼, Soulkeeper
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