Downtime, Project: The Darkening

Adric closed over the book he was reading and rubbed at his shadowed, tired eyes in frustration, resting his head in his hands a moment. He parted his fingers to glance over at his journal, laid open with all the notes he'd gathered in his research. Questions leading to analyses of texts, leading to the formation of hypotheses, which only leave more questions and few concrete answers. Adric sighed and shoved the book he'd been reading aside, dragging his journal over in its place to add further commentary.

In conclusion, while I know more than I did before, it's not nearly enough to answer all my questions. I now know that the Maw of the Void is an ancient Forgotten God that was split apart and lost in the Cataclysm, but I don't know what this entity represents or what purpose it serves. I also understand that the purpose of the Ritual of the Unrending of the Void is to make the Maw whole again; however, without further context regarding the Maw, I cannot even speculate why Erdrad would wish to perform it. Neither do I understand the role Erdrad intended for myself or Maya. He needs us for something, but I don't know precisely what.

There are other questions that remain unanswered as well. What became of the two First Prophets of the Maw who, according to my research, survived the Cataclysm and took the remaining parts of the Maw into themselves? The intent was for them to join their spirits with those fragments, allowing them to grow inside both Prophets. But what happened to those Prophets and the fragments they carried? What were the two ritual implements that were lost by the Cult of the Maw and has Erdrad recovered them somehow? I have questions still, and I have exhausted all avenues of research that are readily available to me. There are only a few routes I can think of that might lead to the truth I seek, none of which are safe to investigate. I might not be able to do this alone, as I have tried thus far to do. It might be time to ask the others for help.

He winced and set the pen down as he finished. He had hoped that involving the others would not be necessary, but that had been foolish of him. But he hadn't known if he could really trust them in the beginning, and he still had doubts. The matter of the Wraiths still haunted him. Was he just being naive, thinking they could have honestly tried to mend bridges with the Wraiths and forge an alliance instead of pitting them against the Billhooks and watching them slaughter one another?

The explosions and cries of dying men and women came back to him. The smell of smoke. He squeezed his eyes shut and saw Quellyn's staring back at him. Shocked and surprised. Betrayed? Frightened? At least one of those had to be true, and he couldn't blame her for either. Even though they'd been rivals as long as he'd known her, he hated himself for going along with the plan as soon as the others promised him they’d keep her safe.

And he was scared of himself too; the ideas that popped into his head, the methods he was willing to consider to protect those he cared about. He flicked through his journal, scanning the notes he'd made on developing his own version of spirit finish and a method for extracting the 'materials' needed for the process. By the Void Sea, he'd even used that word - materials - as if he were talking about some herbs or elements instead of a human soul. Other ideas were scrawled inside there, written in terms just as clinical, and seeming just as vile to him as he looked upon them anew. He slammed the book shut in disgust, before picking it up and throwing it against the far wall of the workshop. It hit the wall and landed on the floor with a thud as Adric cradled his face in his hands and held back the tears that threatened to burst forth. No matter what he was feeling, he couldn’t allow himself to cry, he had to be stronger than that...

-

Far above, in the skies over the lair's underground location, clouds swirled and roiled as if to mirror the stormy emotions running through young Adric's mind, and a bolt of lightning struck a weathervane atop the structure that was once known as Tremont Station.

Quellyn's Gaze

Adric...
Adric started awake at the voice calling inside of his mind, coupled with the cry of the shadow bird, and as he awoke he saw those eyes again, as if their image were burned into his brain. Deep dark eyes, regarding him with... what? Contempt? Judgement? Amusement? He threw off his blanket in frustration and got up, stomping towards the workshop. He got to the door and lifted his fist to knock, working up the nerve to ask Tertius for something else to banish unwelcome dreams...

He can't help you...
Adric froze at the voice in his head. Mocking. Taunting. Suggesting? Was that even something a Whisper could do? Could Quellyn really have implanted some aspect of herself in his mind, or was he just imagining her voice? Why would he, though? Why would he want her voice, of all things, inside his head? He’d sooner be haunted by the Maw again.

He shook his head and sighed, letting his arm fall back to his side. It didn't matter. The voice was right. Even if he could persuade Tertius to give him another sleeping draught, it wouldn't fix the problem, it would only cover up the symptoms. Whatever Quellyn had done to him with that shadow bird, there were clearly after effects. This was a spiritual issue, and there was only one way to deal with it.

He needed to seek aid from another Whisper. He wasn't confident enough in his own skills yet to attempt to fix it himself. But he only really knew two people who might qualify. One was Mara, who was even less skilled than himself, since she had no real interest in the arcane. And the other was the one who did this to him in the first place, so it seemed unwise to seek help there. Even if Quellyn were willing to be a good sport and lift whatever effect she'd placed upon his psyche, he couldn't trust that she wouldn't take advantage of the opportunity to do something worse.

He turned and started walking away from the workshop, and he was halfway back to his cot when another idea slowed his step. If he couldn't seek aid from a Whisper, perhaps the demon Setarra could help him? But that was just as risky, if not more so, than asking Quellyn to do it. He had only had a couple of encounters with Setarra, and both times had set his hair on end. She had a grudge to settle with Erdrad, that much he knew, and so he could count her an ally against him. But he had called on her for help with a matter unrelated to their mutual enemy before, and she was yet to call upon him for repayment. He was loathe to place himself even further in debt to the demon for another unrelated matter.

No. This wasn't worth the potential risk, not yet. It wasn't even worth mentioning to the others. In fact, he wasn't sure he would want to mention it even if it was. Arden worried him, and he feared what she might do with that information. No, if he left it alone, perhaps it would fade in time. And if it didn't... well, then he might have no choice but to turn to desperate measures to fix it.

He reached his alcove and pulled the curtain around his sleeping space again. Then laid down in his cot and closed his eyes, trying to ignore the lingering image of those dark eyes boring into him...

Downtime: Adric's First Spirit Finish

Adric drew his cloak tight around himself as the gondola drifted along the canal, not because of any chill wind, but a discomfort arising from how out of place he was in the area. The gondolier cast the occasional doubtful glance back at his young passenger, and Adric affected an unconcerned smile whenever he felt the man's eyes upon him. This wasn't his first visit to Silkshore, but he hadn't quite learned to be at ease with the place. Perhaps that was for the best, given its reputation. Certainly, he noted as he passed by on the gondola, both residents and other visitors cast wary glances about themselves every now and then.

Before too long, the gondola slowed as it approached the Ridgewater Jetty, and Adric sat a little straighter as he prepared to disembark. The gondolier gave him one more worried glance as he tethered the vessel. Adric just gave him his most charming smile again, paying the fare for the journey as he stood up, then stepped off. He scanned the rooftops with his eyes and picked out the distinctively patterned silk hanging that indicated his destination before making his way for that building.

Climbing the exterior steps to the rooftop, he found the marketplace and wove his way through the crowd, keeping his eyes peeled for Ojak's stand. The vendor wasn't hard to pick out; Tycherosi were a minority in Duskvol, and many had a distinctive feature which indicated their rumored demonic heritage. In Ojak’s case, his skin was red and he had purple eyes. Adric would have found him unsettling even without those unusual traits. The man was unshaven, with a pointy face and goatee beard, and he was always scratching himself and sniffing, eyes darting constantly as if he were always on edge.

“Ah, uh, Wren, my boy!” Ojak greeted Adric in his usual nervous manner.

Adric tried to hide the twitch of irritation he felt at being called ‘boy’ as he stepped up to the vendor’s stall. Instead, he sighed and forced himself to smile pleasantly, “Hello Ojak.”

“What, uh, do you seek today?”

“Well, I could use another vial of electro or two for starters.”

“Of course, of course.” Ojak nodded, pulling out a couple vials from his stocks and slipping them onto the stall counter just out of reach and keeping them hidden within his palm. Adric slid what he knew to be the expected amount of slugs onto the counter, and Ojak slid the vials within reach, before making the silver slugs vanish in one fluid motion. Adric grabbed and pocketed the vials, then turned his attention to what was on display at the stall.

“And what else do you desire? Perhaps knowledge? Yes, knowledge is good for one in your trade, no?”

Adric sighed again. This was the other thing that irritated him about Ojak. He always had in mind something particular he wanted to sell, always some musty old book or other in which Adric had no real interest. Even as he scanned the stall’s wares, he could spy the vendor out the corner of his eye, pulling a tome out and setting it on the counter with a pointed thud. Instead of rising to the bait, Adric traced a finger along the bottles on display, stopping and backtracking as he caught sight of a label that interested him. He smiled, this time in true satisfaction at finding something of interest.

“Yes. Knowledge is good.” Adric agreed, tapping the bottle. “How much for this?”

“Hmm?” Ojak glanced up, scratching himself distractedly as he peered round at what Adric was indicating. Then he immediately shook his head in disinterest, “Oh no. No no no. That is no way to learn, boy. Better to do the work yourself, yes?” He thumped the cover of the book for emphasis. Adric continued to ignore the tome.

“Not everything that can be learned can be learned by reading, Ojak. How much?”

The vendor let out an explosive sigh, sullenly rattling off the price for the bottle. Adric had to haggle a bit, and he was sure the vendor hiked the price to make it less attractive than the book, for which he offered what he promised was a ‘tiny’ sum for such a rare and valuable volume. Adric eventually humoured the vendor by bothering to look at the title on the front page: ‘Bindings, Releases, and Eldritch Bondage.’

Adric suppressed a shudder of disquiet as he closed the cover and gave a tight smile, “I think I’ll just take the Spirit Finish, Ojak. Thanks.”

The vendor glared at him and drummed his fingers impatiently on the counter, scratching himself with the other hand before throwing up his arms melodramatically in defeat, “Fine, I will sell the Finish at a discount, if you promise to come back for this next time.”

Adric narrowed his eyes, suspicious of Ojak’s insistence. Eventually, he shrugged. Even if he bought the book, that didn’t mean he had to read it. “Okay, deal.”

Upon returning to the lair, Adric ducked into the alcove that contained his sleeping space, and pulled shut the curtain around himself before setting his satchel down on the floor. He opened it up and pulled out the bottle he had eventually managed to acquire from Ojak. The label read, ‘Spirit Finish: Essence of Combat Prowess’.

Spirit Finish was a product Adric had learned of recently, and when he saw it in Ojak’s stall he knew he had to try it. It was a form of spirit essence, the distilled memories and experiences of a captured spirit. This particular brand was specifically intended to allow the user to gain the skills of the deceased by imparting their life experiences. Although Adric had no desire to kill anyone again if he could help it, he knew he needed to learn how to defend himself, and perhaps if he were more skilled he would even be able to do so without killing. But he wasn’t learning fast enough through normal training. He needed a little something extra, and this seemed like just the thing.

Adric sat down and stared down at the bottle in his hand for a moment, hesitating. Whose experiences might these be? What might it cost him, to take another being’s experiences into himself? He scowled, shoving these thoughts aside. It didn’t matter. Dr Erdrad would find him and Mara eventually, and he needed whatever edge he could get to keep himself and his sister safe. He didn’t care what it cost him.

He popped the cork and a wisp of misty light curled from the top. He put his lips to the bottletop and inhaled before he could hesitate further. The essence rushed through him, finding its way to his nervous system and he fell backwards in his cot, spasming as if he were being electrocuted, which, in a strange way, he was…

He had infiltrated the manor on the upper floor, and made his way into the study. One guard was patrolling along the bannister overlooking the lower level of the study, and he heard another coughing below. He crept up behind the one near the bannister, kicked his feet out from under him and drove the point of his blade straight through the man’s eye and into his brain, killing him instantly.

As the other guard raced up the stairs, the assassin stood his ground and held his sword ready. The guard rounded the corner and, weapon already drawn, lashed out towards him…

Adric parried his sister’s swing clumsily, his body not yet able to match the experience his mind had absorbed from the essence of the dead assassin. In one of the many visions he’d had of that man’s exploits, the guard had been staggered long enough for a killing blow. But in this instance, Adric himself was the one staggered, and his sister capitalised with a swing that drew just shy of his own neck. She was slightly shorter than him, but as always she managed to make it seem like she were the one looking down. Despite this, she smirked and nodded approvingly, “Well, I s’pose you did okay this time.”

“Thanks.” Adric smiled back.

His sister gave him a stern look, “Don’t get cocky, you still got a way to go.”

Adric sighed, “I know.”

Her expression softened and she shook her head, “Whatever it is you and these ‘Night Feathers’ get up to, you can’t afford to hold back. Not out there.”

Adric winced as his mind drifted back into the recent past...

Alex had dropped the vial of trance powder down the stairs, but it proved a poor delivery method. One of the Lampblacks was stunned, but the other still charged towards them. Adric brought up his lightning hook in a moment of panic and slammed it into the man's chest. There was a pop, a flash of light, and a smell of burnt ozone and flesh as the man flew back down the stairs…

Adric recalled the empty staring eyes of the man's face and shook his head to banish the image. It wouldn't go away.

“I… uh… I need to go… work on something.” He said, turning away and leaving his sister, who watched his retreat with a look of concerned confusion.

Adric sat down in the workshop and got out his journal. He considered continuing his research into Erdrad’s ritual and the Eternal Maw, but his stomach revolted at the notion for some reason.

He had been such an idiot. The death on his own hands was quite enough to haunt his dreams, and now he had given himself the memories of a murderer as well. Not to mention the nightmares of that… thing he encountered in the ghost field.

Still, the Spirit Finish seemed to have worked. His body didn't have the training yet to match what he'd gained from the assassin’s spiritual essence, but the instincts were there now, somewhere deep within in his mind. And, as unsettling as the method was, he did find himself morbidly intrigued and wondering about how it worked.

Obviously a spirit with the proper background and skillset was necessary. It also seemed logical that the spirit should be freshly released from its body, since a spirit's sense of self erodes over time as it is slowly consumed by madness.

As these thoughts raced through his mind, Adric took up a pen and started to scribble down notes in his journal. As he became lost in his observations and theories about how the Spirit Finish might be developed, he was able to forget his fears, if only for a short while.