'Children of The Shroud' - A Dark Fantasy RP (Interest/Recruitment - CLOSED AND STARTED)

[lacktheknack]

"Why was I chosen?"

Why indeed.

This was a much more pertinent question to Andra than the others. The others were gutter rats, travelers, whores, a lost sailor. People who could vanish off the streets for whatever reason and no one would realize. Andra, however, was a servicewoman. She had regular customers, acquaintances, people who promised they would pay her for her midwife services when they could. She was someone who would be noticed, even if only by her landlord.

The only thing that all of the group had in common is that they were in the Drowned District.

Still quivering from her ordeal, she sat at the table. She took a moment to seat herself in her most pleasing posture and steadied the top of her head, as if balancing a book on it. The food looked wonderful, better than anything she'd managed to get in the Drowned District by far. The young girl reached for a drumstick, then withdrew.

"What... What if this is another test?"

What if, indeed.

Andra reached for a slice of bread. It had been cut and spread with butter and delicious smelling herbs. Any one of those herbs could be a deadly poison, or a hallucinogenic, or worse. She could be holding something truly awful. Her arms twitched more than normal as she moved the bread to her face.

Andra, you're an idiot.

I don't care.

You followed them on the promise of CHEESE and hardly anything else.

That's not true.

You then followed them past the most terrifying thing that you never imagined lived below you, you've followed them through portals, and they repay you by SETTING YOU on FIRE.

I know. Shame on them.

And now you're going to stuff your face with their probably-poisoned spiced bread.

Absolutely. Source aside, it smells absolutely delicious.

The bread was under Andra's nose now. There weren't any smells of nightshade or other common poisons, just thyme, rosemary and wine vinegar.

Besides, the old man said there will be no more trials.

Do you BELIEVE him?!

No.

AGH. Why do you hate yourself so much?

Because I'm hungry. I'm never happy with anything when I'm hungry.

Eat that, and you'll never be hungry again.

Andra bit down.

Sounds good to me.

Some of the butter dripped down her chin. The bread was utterly dripping with it. The bread diffused tastes that Andra didn't know existed across her tongue.

In that exact moment, knew that, no matter how the old man answered their questions, no matter how painful the poison she might be eating was, no matter what happened to her next, it was totally worth it if this was her last meal.

 

[NinjaDeathSlap]

The Old Man couldn't help but look a little disappointed, though it was not directed towards those that sought an answer from him.

"Alas, what would appear to be the first and most pressing question for many of you, is one that I am unable to answer. For you see, it was not I who chose you, and I'm afraid I cannot speak for the motives of the one who did. Perhaps, before this evening is done, you will get to field that question to Him in person, though I cannot guarantee He will be forthcoming with you."

As he said this, The Old Man made his way around the table to where Sparrow was sitting, and tore off the opposite leg of the chicken she was eyeing reluctantly, eating a strip of flesh from it in front of her. He smiled, though from the way he chewed, almost robotic, it was clear that the taste of the meat held no pleasure for him.

"That is not, however, to say that I cannot see potential in all of you. To reach this Sanctum you have displayed cunning, insight, strength of character, and most importantly, an insatiable curiosity that has kept you moving forward where others would have fled. I trust the judgement of our Master completely, and thus I believe that you all possess greatness within you."

 

[Dogmatic99]

While taken aback at first Maggy couldn't help but find herself swept up in the energy of the cheers and welcomes as the robed strangers seemed to lose all their air of menace and swept over the group like old friends welcoming them into the warmth like old comrades.

Things only got better as they were brought to the banquet table full of the kind of food that Maggy had never thought of, even at her hungriest. The sight alone set her stomach to growling as she drank in the sight of it all. Screw the weird walls and the odd sensation that kept trying to creep into the forefront of her mind. No what mattered here was the masterpiece of culinary delight laied out in front of her. It took all the remaining strength of will Maggy had to hold herself back.

The leader gave his little speech and it seemed as if the nightmare was finally over. They'd struggled and strived and here was the promised reward. Food, drink and a warm, safe place to rest her head. It all sounded too good to be true!

Far too good in fact.

"Why was I chosen?"

"That's what I'd like to know," he said. "Of all the hundreds of down and out souls in the Drowned District... why us?"

That was a good point. The others seemed to know stuff but there was nothing Maggy could offer these witches. Why would they do this? What if they were just fattening them up for some dark ritual?

"What... What if this is another test?" Said the shorter girl.

"Or what if the foods drugged or something?" Maggy hissed shooting her a sidelong glance. Still it didn't make her let go of a succulent looking chicken leg. Her fears were at least put to rest a little bit as the old man sat down and helped himself to some of the food on offer. Maggy lowered her guard just an inch and cautiously nibbled at her own cut. It was surprisingly warm, almost as if it was fresh.

"That is not, however, to say that I cannot see potential in all of you. To reach this Sanctum you have displayed cunning, insight, strength of character, and most importantly, an insatiable curiosity that has kept you moving forward where others would have fled. I trust the judgement of our Master completely, and thus I believe that you all possess greatness within you."

Like the man in the caves? Was he supposed to be here with us? Maybe he hadn't been strong enough, but Maggy couldn't take any pride in getting here in his place. She had only gotten through by the skin of her teeth and that was only because she was lucky enough to run into the others. The burn on her arm tingled in the chill and she held her hand over it, pressing her arm tight across her chest.

"So what's the catch?" She asked, finally deciding to sit down at the table beside people who had been trying to bleed her dry so much earlier. Except they didn't... I don't think. "If this is just charity then it's a fuckin' weird kind." She composed herself and gathered what tattered shreds of courage she still had.

 

[Terratina.]

Skylar's hands reached for every bit of food there was but the words of the others dissuaded her, well, until the old man ate some of the food himself. She hastily shoved a slice of beef onto a piece of bread and crammed it into her mouth. Dignity be damned, it had been too long since Skylar had meat. The food was comforting, however the old man's words were not. Why would someone choose a failure like her? The old man's words fell flat. What cunning? What strength of character? The part about curiosity was probably true but from the get-go, she had just watched as others figured out how to tackle the various trials that they had been subjected to. Her appetite left her, and she just began to pick at the rest of her hoard on her plate. Soon enough, Skylar spoke up for once, "So, what happens after this, mister? What are you going to do with us?"

 

[NinjaDeathSlap]

"What are you going to do with us?"

The Old Man turned to the woman, hidden behind a child's mask, and smiled.

"That, miss, is entirely up to you. We have brought you here because we seek to recruit you into our... organisation sounds too formal, but perhaps brotherhood or family are both too familiar at this point. After all these years, I still struggle to describe it. Regardless, we want you to be one of us, but such a commitment should never be made lightly, and I will not force it on you. Tonight, you will dine with us, learn more about who we are, and what we do, and then go to sleep on soft beds. In the morning, you shall return to your lives above ground. You shall go about your business as always, for one whole day, so that you may consider whether or not you are ready to accept change. If you decide that you are not, then you may simply never contact us again. If however, you decide otherwise, then you may return to us at midnight, by a safer route than the one you travelled before, to be properly inducted."

 

[Fappy]

"... Perhaps, before this evening is done, you will get to field that question to Him in person, though I cannot guarantee He will be forthcoming with you."

Selena watched him as he moved to the banquet table. Who was this "Him" he spoke of?

"... Tonight, you will dine with us, learn more about who we are, and what we do, and then go to sleep on soft beds. In the morning, you shall return to your lives above ground."

We're going back!?!

"... You shall go about your business as always, for one whole day, so that you may consider whether or not you are ready to accept change. If you decide that you are not, then you may simply never contact us again. If however, you decide otherwise, then you may return to us at midnight, by a safer route than the one you travelled before, to be properly inducted."

So there is still a way out.

This was truly cruel. Scare them, make them fight for their lives, and for what? To tease them with an impossible choice at the end? Selena was content with following along past a certain point because she felt she'd already gone too far down the rabbit hole. Now it seemed she could return. No strings attached. Now her fate was truly resting on her own shoulders.

What would she do? Could she really go back to her old life? How much longer would she last on the surface? How long until she finally gave up and ended it all? Then again, could she really follow these lunatics? After baring witness to such profound miracles, could she really turn back now? Could she really continue a normal life on the streets with the knowledge she had now?

Then there was that illusion . What was that? Was that truly her? Was that ugliness really inside her heart? As frightened of herself as she had been, she couldn't help but feel an odd sense of... curiosity.

No, save this for when you return tomorrow. Savoir the reward.

With that, Selena turned towards the table and began digging in. It had been a very, very long time since she'd been able to dine like this. Perhaps if she stayed here long enough she'd revert back to the happy, plump little girl she once was. Looking at her "companions" she giggled as she stuffed a slice of ham into her mouth, "I'd make a career out of slaying giant lizards if this is what the pay was like."

 

[The Funslinger]

"That, miss, is entirely up to you. We have brought you here because we seek to recruit you into our... organisation sounds too formal, but perhaps brotherhood or family are both too familiar at this point. After all these years, I still struggle to describe it. Regardless, we want you to be one of us, but such a commitment should never be made lightly, and I will not force it on you. Tonight, you will dine with us, learn more about who we are, and what we do, and then go to sleep on soft beds. In the morning, you shall return to your lives above ground. You shall go about your business as always, for one whole day, so that you may consider whether or not you are ready to accept change. If you decide that you are not, then you may simply never contact us again. If however, you decide otherwise, then you may return to us at midnight, by a safer route than the one you travelled before, to be properly inducted."

With his initial fruit lust sated, Will started eating some turkey with a good deal more politeness. Swallowing, he asked his next question. "So, has anybody ever turned you down after passing those trials? For that matter, will those who come after us have to deal with a now one eyed giant lizard, or will you procure another?"

"I'd make a career out of slaying giant lizards if this is what the pay was like."

Will chuckled when he overheard this. "You know, I once served with a man who claimed to have slain a great sea serpent. Although in the end, that dubious claim was, ah... thoroughly disproved."

 

[NinjaDeathSlap]

"will those who come after us have to deal with a now one eyed giant lizard, or will you procure another?"

The Old Man smiled quizzically at the sailor, his milky eyes glowing in the soft light.

"What leads you to assume that those who preceded you, and those who will follow after must face the same trials? After all else you have seen, why should we be bound by that convention?

Nevertheless, it is not unheard of for candidates to decide that our order does not provide the answers that they seek. It is no small thing to refuse a God, though out of all the Gods I would say ours is the least likely to hold a grudge. Besides, and I mean this in no way to disparage your character, there's always plenty more wretches in Kragenau, these days more than ever. You might never have heard of us, but I assure you we are known to many. Regardless, you need not spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder in fear of reprisal. Well, not from us at any rate. In truth, secrecy has never actually been a conscious pursuit of our order, rather than simply an environment we have adapted to. We are branded as heathens, disavowed in the strongest terms by the Chantry of Seldus. To so much as speak our name or acknowledge our deeds in public is grounds for... disappearance. As such, whatever you may learn tonight is no cause of concern to us, for you could never again tell another living soul even if you wanted to, the zealots of the Chantry have seen to that."

His mouth stuffed full of pork, Brutus added. "You'd think those cunts who hate us so much would stop doing us such a huge favour."

"Quite." The Old Man replied.

 

[Rufio's Ghost]

The dark tone that had dominated the day changed after the last trial was completed. The Shroud members, who had seemed either somber or completely insane became warm, welcoming even. Initiates were joyously ushered down the caverns and into the banquet hall. Robed men patted Langston's shoulders and congratulated him as they passed through the catacombs, the stress of the day's trails melted away as their victory was celebrated. Langston had seen parades before... he had always wondered what they were like. Maybe something like this? A chance to forget all worries and revel in the few rare successes.

He had witnessed preparations for banquets and he had seen the aftermath many times over- but he had only dreamed of attending one. He wouldn't have to settle for cold scraps and stale wine, he wouldn't need to press his ear against the floor straining to make out the murmurs of pointless but pleasant conversation. His curiosity could finally be sated, this was an invitation.

"Please, help yourselves; and you have my word that partaking in this feast places you in no debt to us. Tonight is simply a mission on our part to sate both your bellies and you minds. Any questions you may have, and I'm certain you have several between you, shall all be given their due tonight, with as much honesty as of which I am able, and in return, nothing shall be asked of you, until you are ready. No more tricks. No more tests. This is your reward."

Langston's mind began racing, "Any questions?", he had so many that he didn't know where to begin... Luckily, someone else did.

Selena spoke up, and a flood of questions followed. Langston remained standing, paying close attention to both the questions and answers.

"In the morning, you shall return to your lives above ground. You shall go about your business as always, for one whole day, so that you may consider whether or not you are ready to accept change."

'We're going back? Does he mean to return us to all to the Drowned District... or, or can I go home?'

Langston cleared his throat, nervously waiting to ask for clarification. He didn't want to interrupt and figured it would be easier to wait for a lull in the conversation. He had already waited months for an answer, what was another minute?

Many of the other initiates had seated themselves at the table and were now inhaling their meals, providing the perfect opportunity to get a word in without talking over someone else, "Urm, Sir?"
Will's brass voice boomed, drowning out Langston entirely.

"will those who come after us have to deal with a now one eyed giant lizard, or will you procure another?"

The old man spouted off, giving another long winded explanation. But Langston could wait, he could always wait.

"What leads you to assume that those who preceded you, and those who will follow after must face the same trials? After all else you have seen, why should we be bound by that convention?

Nevertheless, it is not unheard of for candidates to decide that our order does not provide the answers that they seek. It is no small thing to refuse a God, though out of all the Gods I would say ours is the least likely to hold a grudge..."

Langtson exhaled sharply, "God....Gods..?"

Langston averted his eyes, trying to hide the fear that was plain on his face. He had guessed that these people were zealots, but he didn't expect them to be so extreme. Did they actually think they could speak with the divines? His parents were Juiniss' chosen, and even they could not directly speak with their god... well, at least he didn't think they could.

The bigger question was why would zealots invite him anywhere unless there was some darker implication? Though his father never directly said it, he heavily implied that men and women of the cloth would not turn a blind to him; that if he were to be discovered it would be his end. Avoiding the priesthood was the whole reason he had spent his life behind closed doors, hidden away from the rest of Kragenau... It was to avoid people like this, wasn't it?

 

[Daystar Clarion]

While the cloudy eyed man spoke, Sparrow stuffed as much food into her mouth as was humanly possible.

As he made them aware of their offer, and the day to consider it, two thoughts in particular echoed through her mind. Her mouth, fingers, and chin glistening with grease.

These people, they talk as if they could talk to a god. Actually talk to a god, like a person. Curiosity got the better of her, as she chimed in, her mouth full of food.

"Which god are you talkin' 'bout, I read 'bout them, and none of them sound like the kind t'hide in a sewer." Pausing for a moment, she coughed slightly, chunks of chicken spattering the table in front of her. "No offense."

 

[EnigmaticSevens]

Ezrah ate, ate with little in the way of hesitation or seeming concern. He'd made his decision and reached at least a tentative conclusion. If this old man, this gentle figure that screamed of immense power shrouded in weakness, a massive fist tucked away in a discrete glove, bid them eat, Ezrah would eat. What poison could be bound up within this food that the magics he'd seen on this day couldn't undo? Besides, poison in food or drink seemed a bit too mundane for this lot. There remained the possibility that this was a binding of sorts, a more subtle sort of oath

This entire day, this entire experience, seemed a relic of some long forgotten era. Magics abounding, trials of skill, deadly riddle games, all of it was decidedly story book, and the old tales contained their own set of rules, their own way of doing things. In times long past, to eat the bread and meat of man's table was to make common cause with him, to offer up an implied oath of kinship and solidarity. This old man implied that no such bindings existed, but would the magics he wrought abide by those pronouncements as well. The Marked new the sorcerer's trap well enough. Master a magic and the magic mastered you in turn. Even gods had their limits. But binding or no, Ezrah cared little, he was bound to these people by something he held dearer than any oath or arcane working, the curiosity that burned in his chest, the almost all consuming need to see and taste and touch this new reality these strange people offered.

The boy started with the meats, tucking into a platter of quickly assembled chicken legs, chunks of ham and rashers of bacon. The richness of it all was near enough to leave him dizzy and nauseated. He slowed his pace, content the food wouldn't flee at the slightest provocation. He sampled liberally amongst the softer fruits, exotic flavors he'd never tasted, but who's texture told him they'd not hold up for any great length of time. The breads, cheeses and harder fruits he rather brazenly folded up in parchment paper and tucked away into his sack. The old man claimed they'd be called to return to this place after a day, but nothing was certain save the Making and Unmaking. If this was to be some mad fever dream and nothing more, Ezrah would have some small measure of profit from it at least, another day's meal if nothing else. Yet even as Ezrah prepared for such a possibility, the thought of it sent a sort of terror quaking through him. To come so close... so close! And let it all slip through one's fingers. The failure of it would drive him to madness, sure enough.

Arch ways wrought of water, ceilings wrought of sorcery, minds tied to one another by blood, these people spent grand magic like common coin. Ezrah glanced around at his companions, children for the most part, and there, still Selena amongst them. He recalled the words he'd offered her in warning, and even now they sat bitterly in his stomach. These people dealt in monstrous sums of power, their prices would be monstrous as well, Ezrah could fathom nothing else. His fellow 'recruits' offered up questions to the old man, and Ezrah hung on the answers given. Still searching desperately for some point of leverage, some small advantage.

Some of the others seemed taken aback by the casual talk of Gods and the implication that the patron of these people might be counted among their number, but Ezrah merely shrugged. Of course the Gods were real, this was known. But Gods were to Men as Men were to Ants, unfathomable and indifferent. What grand subterranean cathedrals might ants raise, what grand wars might they fight, that men should take notice of them? The Gods were a force to be endured, not placated or patronized. And on the off chance that one caught the attention of such a being? Such was the prayer for dew at the desert's edge that brought forth the deluge. Gods dealt in arithmetic men could not understand. It made sense though, considering the craft on display in this place, within these people. No matter, if this was the way forward, so be it.

Resigned as he was to whatever was to come, Ezrah decided to hazard at least one question, even if he suspected the answer given would be vague or deceitful outright, "Heirophant, no power, no knowledge, comes without sufferin?, now or forestalled. What pains would you ask of us?"

 

[NinjaDeathSlap]

"Which god are you talkin' 'bout, I read 'bout them, and none of them sound like the kind t'hide in a sewer."

What pains would you ask of us?"

The Old Man 'looked' at each of the pair in turn, a strange, searching expression on his face. He waited a few moment before replying.

"Prudent questions both, deserving of full and honest answers. To do that, however, requires an understanding of the very core of our being. So, I hope you're sitting comfortably, for we are about to go back a very, very long way indeed...

You are aware, I'm sure, of the Chantry's doctrine on creation? The Dawn of Time and The Rending of Dus? Well, most of it is true enough. Dus, whatever form that entity may have taken before, bound all the energies of the universe into order, and in doing so destroyed itself, ripped itself to pieces just as it ripped the sea from the sky, the day from the night, the magic from the mundane. According to the Chantry, Dus was split into 6 fragments, who became the Gods. Juiniss, Northos, Maeverniss, Denissa, Zapatos, Gilliajlia. Each has dominion over a certain, familiar group of aspects crucial to the preservation of order, which they sit in government over from their respective realms of Seldus, the immortal and ethereal plane.

This is a... limited interpretation. Not a lie, as such, we'll get to those later. However, what you must understand is that Dus was divided into far more than just six pieces. The Gods may be the most powerful remnants of Dus, but Dus exists within all of us. Every being, beast or man, mortal or immortal, carries within them a fragment of Dus' power, for Dus is life itself. This fragment requires no physical location, but is present nonetheless, and without it there would be no rhyme or reason to your being. It is the marker that denotes your ethereal status, and it will endure long after your flesh has decayed. Though it is not an exact parallel to common tales, as shorthand we can henceforth refer to this fragment as your 'soul'.

That knowledge is crucial for later. Now, however, we come to the great lie of the Chantry, which has driven our God and those who serve him out of common knowledge with its campaign of terror. The Gods you know have one more sibling, the Black Sheep of the family if you will. His name is Mylaviss, and he is who we serve.

I have dedicated the greater part of my life to understanding the nature of Mylaviss, and still I feel that I have barely scratched the surface, something that is of constant amusement to Him, I assure you. So, take my retelling of this tale for the layman's interpretation that it is. If you wish to know more, you need to ask Him yourself, and cross your fingers that he sees fit to be honest. Anyway, the key to making sense of Mylaviss' theological exile lies in Him being created without a purpose. He has no official sphere of influence over the mortal world, nor any realm of Seldus pre-prepared for him. As many of you are vagrants, He is the Vagrant God. A being of extraordinary power, unbound. Now, this might seem a small matter to us. Mortals spend our entire lives trying to figure out where exactly we belong within our space. In this, however, the Gods are fundamentally different. They are defined entirely by their purpose. It is the only reason for their existence, and they are eternally aware of it.

Imagine you ran into another human being, who's very existence ran contrary to everything you understood about your world. Perhaps they are immortal, can see into the future, defy gravity at will or else exists simultaneously in a thousand places at once. Every rule that determines what a human being should be capable of, they defy. How you would see a person like that, is much the same as how Mylaviss is viewed by His brothers and sisters. They revile Him, reject Him, and most of all, are profoundly afraid of him. You see, in many ways, you might think Mylaviss' unbound nature makes Him weak. He cannot summon a great swell of the seas, to purge the land of his enemies, as Denissa is wont to do; nor does He command vast legions of eternal warriors, as is the privilege of Northos. However, His power is entirely his own. Where other Gods are unable to leave or alter their realms of Seldus, Mylaviss, recognising that there was no room on Seldus for him, went and fashioned a new realm, all of His own making, in the space between the mundane and ethereal planes, a feat not done since the Dawn of Time. He calls this realm The Shroud, and we are its adoptive Children. The very fabric of The Shroud can change entirely on His whim, and it serves no purpose to bind Him upon a set path. It exists where nothing should, where nothing could according to all laws of reason. Through The Shroud, and through us, Mylaviss is able to influence the mortal realm in ways that make His siblings seem tragically handicapped.

Every initiated Child of The Shroud has been drawn from a pool of outcasts; people who, like Mylaviss Himself, have no place within the hierarchy of the other God's influence. For most of us, this means we have grown up surrounded by persecution and neglect. I would not call Mylaviss charitable, yet He sees worth where the other God's see only vermin. He does not require any of the ceremonial tributes and prostrations that form the culture of traditional 'worship'. However, those who would agree to serve Him must place his will above all other things. This does not mean that you must relinquish all hold upon your old life. The Children of The Shroud have no long list of strict tenets. Outside of this Sanctum, your life and choices are your own. However, we have two, and only two, rules for those who would join us. When The Shroud calls, you come at once, and when Mylaviss speaks, you obey without question. To disobey is death, and service is forever. In exchange for your service, Mylaviss does not promise you contentment, nor wealth, nor vengeance against those who have wronged you. What He promises, is power. Through his blessing, those who follow him may channel the energies of The Shroud in a more direct form than any other mortals could possibly hope to do. You will get the chance to re-write the rulebook, as it were, and what you do with that chance, outside of Mylaviss' express commands, is entirely up to you."

From there, The Old Man turned more specifically towards the Marked one, peeling off the white glove on his left hand as he did so, to reveal his own tattoo. Like all the others, a skull on the palm of his hand.

"This mark is made with more than ink and needles." he said, the tone of his voice now somewhat darker. "Therefore, do not expect a simple sting and soreness if you agree to where it. You remember what I said before about the soul within you? Well, here is where I hope you remembered...

There are many wise and talented scholars in the Chantry, as well as the respective Temples of each God. The elder and most learned of them spend decades studying the mysteries of Seldus, and yet even they, the favourite of their Gods, can achieve nothing more than the slow, drip-feed of knowledge, allowing them to create technologies, vastly diluted from the true magic of their origin, that allow those few to rise a step above other mortals. Mylaviss has no qualms about imparting power more, directly. We each possess within us a fragment of something immortal and ethereal, which can act as a 'bridge' between Faldus and The Shroud, turning your mortal body into a conduit for true magic, which you will, with practice, be able to control at will. I use the term 'bridge' specifically, for a bridge must be anchored on both sides of the crossing.

Should you wish to accept the pact with Mylaviss, and become a Child of The Shroud, your soul must be split in half. One half will remain within you, in Faldus, while Mylaviss takes the other half back to The Shroud with him. According to the Chantry, such corruption of the purest part of your being is the single greatest heresy that it is possible for a mortal to commit. I, personally, would not be here explaining this to you now if I much cared what the Chantry made of it. However, it is what you care about that matters here. Regardless, there is no denying that this ritual fundamentally changes the very foundation of your being, and comes with two practical side effects. The first, is that after you die, the remainder of your soul must travel to where its other half is already being kept. You will spend your afterlife in The Shroud, serving Mylaviss in some other way than you did in life. In this, you have no choice. The second is more abstract. What you may feel at the moment of initiation, and any effects that linger after, will be as unique to you as your soul itself. Thus, I cannot tell you exactly what to prepare for. In my time, I have been present for hundreds, perhaps even thousands of initiations, and in that time I have seen people experience agony and ecstasy alike. You may be dulled to sensation, you may even enjoy it... or, you may experience pain beyond endurance. I cannot say."

 

[Dogmatic99]

All the evidence was pointing towards the food not being poisoned (which was nice), either that or the robe witches had some kind of antidote that they'd be drinking later. Seeing what they'd done earlier nothing was impossible. Although Maggy had just finished cleaning off a chicken leg until the bone almost sparkled in the flowing half light of the black room. So she was probably dead anyway, gut had won over brain. Guess I may as well embrace death. She gave a little smile to herself. That wasn't funny, why was she snickering about the prospect of being poisoned. That was beyond a mistake!

Well nothing I can do about it now if I am. And so she set about laying into the feast with gusto. Still she had enough presence of mind left to pay attention to what was being said around her. Maggy's oft neglected faculties of sensible thought and reasoning were busy piecing together all the snippets of information that were slowing being fed to her as Maggy's even more neglected stomach reveled in the huge bites of food that were suddenly being piled into it.

This honestly made a nice change of pace for her, normally Maggy was too afraid to approach such large groups to actually see what the individuals that made them up were actually like. Though, really, of all the new experiences she'd had today this one hardly registered.

But the day wasn't done throwing shocks at her as the blind old codger got onto the biggest part of his pitch. Maggy didn't know much of the gods, just the basic stuff her parents had taught her back when they were still breathing. She'd never really considered herself a believer. Maggy had offered up prayers until her throat was hoarse and nothing. If the gods were there they weren't paying any attention to her. The priests and the people that followed the chantry always seemed to be ranting and raving about some rule or another that you had to follow and then maybe if you lived up to what they wanted then you got a reward when you were dead... and even then the rewards sounded more like something that was better for the gods.

Still they lived well, very well and in Maggy's experience they'd never backed down from rubbing it in her face or anyone else unlucky enough to get in their way. Hell, she'd been among those the fucking zealots had chased through the streets! Why would she want to join the likes of them?!

Because this is the best you've eaten in your entire life. Because you don't have anywhere else to go.

And then there was everything else they could offer. Power, like the kind she'd seen them use in the chamber to wrap their minds around their little fingers. "...turning your mortal body into a conduit for true magic, which you will, with practice, be able to control at will."

Could she do things like that? Maybe she could do even more. They weren't asking her to be locked away in the church grounds. The old man said so himself.

"...Mylaviss does not promise you contentment, nor wealth, nor vengeance against those who have wronged you. What He promises, is power." But through that power she could get all of those things. Maggy could get riches and get out of the drowned district and live the nice cushy life she'd never been allowed before. She'd never have to feel afraid of anyone ever again.

But there was the catch. To serve them and do whatever they asked of her, even after death they'd have her. Her very soul. Well it's not like you're using it now. Maggy pondered away, staring down at her plate. All the other religious types talked about the afterlives that were waiting for them like they couldn't wait to go. Maybe this shoud would be the same, if served this Mylavaly-whatsit well then maybe she'd be greeted with open arms. This brood here were turning out to seem alright after all those strange trials.

Don't be stupid! What if they're just trying to lure you in?! Maggy's inner walls sprang back up and everything went back to that uncomfortable state of being totally on edge. All this talk of magic and souls was beyond her but even Maggy could understand the other side of this offer.

"So when you lot call, an' we 'ave to answer or we die, what are we supposed to do? I'm guessin' you don' want us to work as bakers for the homeless."

 

[Daystar Clarion]

Sparrow listened to the old man intently, her eyes, gleaming with curiosity, never leaving him as she inhaled more food than she ever thought possible.

It was like a fairy tale, all of it. Power, in exchange for her service, power she could use to pull herself and her mother from out of that dank shithole. The very idea that something could see worth in any of them was one of note. There had to be more to it than that though, things were never that simple.

"S'all well an' good." Sparrow spoke, chewing loudly. "I still don' understand what ya mean by power, was that what was 'appening back in the sewers? Was that it? Don' reckon that'd be too useful to me..." She trailed off. They'd obviously see through her casual attempt at gathering information, but better not to sound overeager. "An' what kind of stuff would He even need us for?"

She smiled slyly as she bit into another chicken leg. "Why would a god need a lil' girl like me to 'elp 'im out?"

"So when you lot call, an' we 'ave to answer or we die, what are we supposed to do? I'm guessin' you don' want us to work as bakers for the homeless."


Sparrow nodded in agreement as she picked up a bread roll, slathering it in butter before stuffing it in her face. "I dunno, real nice bread they got 'ere." She muttered, spitting breadcrumbs everywhere.

 

[Rufio's Ghost]

It was a lot to take in. Langston hadn't ever given much thought to gods, souls, magic, or power... and found information pertaining to these topics difficult to process. His reality was based on what he could see and touch, on what was tangible. Even so, he hung on every last word the elder spoke, wrestling to comprehend the abstract concepts the flowed effortlessly from the man's lips. He furrowed his brow, understanding the gist of what was said, but not the finer details.

" I dunno, real nice bread they got 'ere."

The mention of bread made his stomach rumble. He may not have had a solid grasp on everything the man in gray said, but one thing was clear- these people did not intend to hurt him, and that was what really mattered. He took a seat at the end of the table; his questions would have to wait a little longer, the day's events left him absolutely famished. Perhaps after eating and resting the pieces would begin to fall into place. He would need time to think, only then could he make sense of what exactly was happening and what was truly at stake.

He picked up a napkin bashfully and tucked it under his collar; just because everyone else was eating like a barbarian didn't mean he had to. He reached his hand out gingerly, trying to avoid the chucks of food that flew past him, and began collecting small portions of each dish. He looked down at the overflowing plate, a small smile creasing his lips as he stabbed into a ripe tomato.

'Ha, Thank the gods. A real meal...'

He paused and blinked deliberately, taken aback by the queer thought that had taken root,

'Or... er... Thank Mylaviss... I suppose.'

 

[NinjaDeathSlap]

"I'm guessin' you don' want us to work as bakers for the homeless."

The Old Man chuckled.

"That isn't exactly our forte, no. However, if Mylaviss ever asked it of us, we would be duty bound to to go out, loaves in hand. We have no official vocation other than serving His whim. Although, more often than not, he directs us to use our powers in the realms of assassination, and other such pursuits. For Mylaviss, other than being his home, perhaps more so even that that, as he is not bound to it, the purpose of The Shroud is as a space to keep the souls of the slain. What use He has for these souls even I cannot say. Perhaps He is made stronger the more he collects, or perhaps He just does it out of petty malice, depriving his siblings of souls that were meant for them. Regardless, an integral power that we all share, is that the soul of any creature slain by one of the Children, becomes trapped in The Shroud. As far as I can tell, Mylaviss does not value one soul over another. The souls of rich men and beggars, pacifists and tyrants are all worth the same once the bodies have perished. As such, He will rarely give us a specific target Himself. He doesn't much care who we kill. So, we freelance. People in need of the highest class of assassin will seek us out, through praying to Mylaviss. He, in turn, directs us to them. Once the target is dead, we receive rewards of coin from one hand, and advances in our magic from the other."

He then turned back to the little Sparrow, his smile creasing the corners of his mouth, and his milky eyes shining.

"Do not think of it as a question of need. As I said, if you refuse us we can simply find others. That is not to say, however, that you would not be a valuable investment, You have proven you resilience in getting this far, just think of what you could be capable of with the energies of The Shroud at your disposal. Exactly how they will manifest through you I cannot say. Each experience is unique, and while most of us share certain powers, the degree in which we differ in aptitude can be vast. For example, many of us have some skill in manipulation of the mind. Distorting perception, implanting suggestion, that sort of thing. Then, there are the likes of Minerva here." he motioned to where Minerva was sitting, who was apparently in the middle of a hushed and excited conversation with the suckling pig on the table."

"In all my years I have never seen an aptitude in this field like hers. I remember when she was no different from how you are now." At this point, he sounded a little sad. "She has not been given anything that she did not expressly ask for, but all the same, I would ask you to forgive her the somewhat... unhinged nature. She finds it harder and harder these days to distinguish her mind from the minds of others, the boundries for her being so thin as to be next to irrelevant. Even now, as we speak, she is hearing ten thousand different voices in her head, of thoughts not uttered all over Kragenau. To hear so many, speaking so vividly all at once... It has taken an enormous amount of strength on her part not to go completely mad.

I do not wish to frighten you. To say that Minerva is an outlier would be an understatement, and Mylaviss has no interest in giving you abilities that you are not able to handle. All that would achieve would be to make you useless to him."

 

[Fappy]

After hearing the old man's words, suddenly Selena wasn't so hungry anymore. After seeing everything she had this day, Selena wasn't about to deny his claims of gods, magic and souls. No, if anything, she'd become a believer without even realizing it. It was so easy to believe the priestesses that tied her down and mutilated her were claiming to serve a nonexistent god, for what kind of god would wish that upon anyone?

She knew better than that, however. The gods were very real and their vanity and hatred made a lot of sense after hearing the old man's explanation. They were little more than large breadcrumbs compared to the mortals that served them. It was no surprised that they would share similar flaws. Or that they'd be capable of even greater evils.

But what of Mylaviss?! Claiming mortal souls does not sound like a very just cause. And assassinations?! What made this "god" believe she would make a good killer? She hadn't hurt another living creature in all her life! It was clear she was being offered a better life, free from the chains society had fastened her with, but did she really have to kill to earn that privileged? Did she really have to claim souls for a monstrous deity in order to live some semblance of a comfortable life?

This was all too much. Though, one thing made a lot of sense in hindsight: Being allowed to return to their normal lives for one day. It wasn't likely that many other recruits were born killers. Perhaps this protocol was put in place for those who didn't have the stomach to feed a hungry god.

What would she do?

Looking at the old man, she absentmindedly muttered, "I don't want to be a murderer."

 

[Daystar Clarion]

"I do not wish to frighten you. To say that Minerva is an outlier would be an understatement, and Mylaviss has no interest in giving you abilities that you are not able to handle. All that would achieve would be to make you useless to him."


Sparrow furrowed her brow slightly, wiping her sleeve across her mouth. Her eyes found their way to this Minerva, the one who forced the hallucinations upon the group earlier. Such a power was a force to be reckoned with, and that was only a test, to think of what she could do if she really wanted to hurt someone...

Assassins? Killing people? Was this what the Shroud were all about? What kind of power would she be privvy to?

"I don't want to be a murderer."

Sparrow looked over at Selena, a ponderous expression on her face as she wiped her hands down her jerkin. "S'not murder if they deserve it." The girl locked her gaze with the old man's, his milky eyes masking his thoughts. "These people we'd be killin'." She paused, her expression hardening. "T'place would be better off withou' 'em?" She asked, her eyes narrowing as she tried to gauge the man's reaction.

The girl was being offered an opportunity to break away from her lot in life. She'd be stupid not to consider it.

 

[The Funslinger]

Will listened to the man's speech with interest. That kind of power was a strangely tempting proposition, to say the least, and he listened in rapt attention, with a piece of crusty bread inches from his mouth.

"I don't want to be a murderer."

"S'not murder if they deserve it."

That was debatable. Still, Will had killed a few people in his time. Always in the heat of battle, though; someone who would see the inside of his guts if he didn't act. The idea of targeting someone and taking them silently in the night before they could defend themselves was a different matter. He stroked his beard as he contemplated the offer.

"I admit I've never been one to think much of the afterlife," he said after a silence. "But you take it very seriously, and... well, we've seen the legitimacy of the things you take seriously, sir." He gestured at Brutus and Minerva to highlight his point. "Surely if there is something on the other side, an eternal afterlife makes whatever we get here in mortality seem like... well, like just a passing moment. And the fact that the nature of where Mylaviss would keep half, and then the entirety of our souls, and the fact he'd use us to take the souls of others by force makes me think whatever use he'd put them to could well be malevolent."

 

[Rufio's Ghost]

"He doesn't much care who we kill. So, we freelance. People in need of the highest class of assassin will seek us out, through praying to Mylaviss. He, in turn, directs us to them. Once the target is dead, we receive rewards of coin from one hand, and advances in our magic from the other."

Chewing slowly, Langston struggled to finish his plate. The cutlet that was previously tender, was now tough and gamy. Swallowing it was becoming troublesome. He reached for the wine and drank deeply, finding that even the sweetest wine could be soured. Removing the napkin from his collar he folded it neatly, placing it next to his dish. Assassination and murder? Not exactly what one would call proper dinner conversation.

No longer finding his meal appetizing, Langston put his hands on his lap and kept his eyes downcast. When the man in gray paused between answers, Langston took a moment to reassure himself.

'It's alright. So what if they are murders? They already said you're safe and you don't have to join.'

That made him feel a little better, he continued.

'I just need to get through this meal, verify that they will take me home, and sleep. And- and then everything will be back to normal'

What were these Shroud people expecting, Langston... a killer? Morality aside, Langston was fairly certain that he would be unable to kill another person, even if he really wanted to.

But they weren't asking him to be just a killer. They wanted more than run of the mill murderers, they wanted assassins. A profession based on being cold, methodical, measured, and merciless. Sure he could be methodical, but if his nerves starting acting up in the slightest he would fall prey to fear and failure... and as far as the other traits go, well, he just didn't meet the proper criteria.

Seriously, an assassin? He really couldn't conjure a more ridiculous notion.

He already knew his answer, but he remained silent, stealing glances at his fellow initiates as he listened intently to their responses.