The Awakening of Moloch

[MaiusImperium]

Check OOC thread here if you want to know more.

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The sun burned red in the sky as it sank into the horizon, casting the snowy spires and towers of Celeste in a fiery hue. Even at night the city was majestic, yet beneath the city, deeper even than it’s fetid sewers, dark plots were being hatched. Men in shadowy cloaks slipped through dark corridors and cramped antechambers, they walked as if on feather down, quiet as mice as they scurried towards their destination.

The men moved with a professional coldness, slitting throats and throttling sentries quickly and without malice, the carved a quiet path of destruction towards the central vault. Priests, shamans and mages accompanied them too, allies and hired help all loyal to the Princess. The Vault was designed to repel attacks from outside, not from within, and so the princess and her cohorts slipped through with deadly efficiency. Hundreds of feet above The Emperor slept soundly, as did the entire city, blissfully unaware that the foundations of Coridan were being swept from under their feet. In the morning nothing would be the same again.

The lead group; the young princess and her closest consorts reached the vault first. Surrounded by men wreathed in shadow she cut a dazzling figure, clothed regally she was certainly not dressed for a fight.

“Halt and speak, friends.” The one of the remaining two custodians spoke in a booming voice, his white and gold armour managing to shine brightly even in the darkness of the corridor. There was a moment of hesitation, the two custodians clutched at their massive halberds and began to approach the small group. The princess’s throat caught in her mouth, they had been caught, finally, the five of them could not contend with two Custodians; the most feared soldiers in the entire Coridan army. The armoured figures neared closer, the princess felt her consorts begin to back away from them, and desert her. Just as she thought the game was over the two Custodians’ halberds fell to the floor with loud clangs and they clutched at their throats. The Imperial Princess watched on with wide eyes as the two guards fell over, crumpled up and eking out their last breaths.

“Who-?”

“-It was I, majesty.” A white-robed figure emerged from the shadows beyond the Custodians, it was Marcellus, a priest of Deus that the princess had won around to her cause. His white staff clicked on the cold marble floor as he stepped over the two fresh corpses.

“Very good Marcellus.” The Princess smoothed her dress irritably; she was grateful for the help, certainly, but she disliked having her power usurped. With the Custodians dead there was only one thing left to do, the tall doors to the vault were before them. They were fashioned from dark obsidian, strong as steel and several feet thick each. On the doors were ancient runes, etched in silver in the tongue of the ancients that foretold of terrible doom should the vault be breached.

“We should turn back, this place was not meant for mortal men.” One of the shadowy figures quavered uncertainly, the Princess turned around angrily and fixed him with an icy glare.

“We have come much too far to turn back. We have breached the lower catacombs, even if we turned back now we would be arrested in the morning and it would be the gallows for all of us. No, I have come too far, sacrificed too much, the throne will be mine. And the means of my ascension lie beyond this door.” The princess took a small black seal from her dress and pressed it to the door, the runes suddenly took alight, shining with a dazzling silver light. There was a loud groan, as if of thunder, and the double doors opened ponderously. None of them expected what lay on the other side. There was darkness, nothing but darkness, no torches lit the inner sanctum, there was a black vacuum of nothingness. Even so, it seemed to beckon them in.

“Come.” Her tone was steely, full of resolve, though now that it came to the final plunge, she was afraid.

The princess swallowed her fear and stepped beyond, she had given so much up for this one chance, she was not going to go back now.

 

[AmbrosiaCaress]

(Thank YOU so much for allowing me to write this story with YOU... )​

The darkness seemed to envelope her, but... whereas the darkness swallowed the others... she was different. The tendrils of shadow slithered around her, as if unable to consume her as it wished to do to the others. She always hated, HATED, the dark, but this was a necessary evil, so to speak. Her words would illuminate soon enough. Yes, her words would surely illuminate the darkness, and draw forth what lived, breathed, seethed, crawled within.

Her fear threatened to spew forth again, but she closed her eyes, those dark, haunting eyes. Some said, when they looked within the eyes of the Princess, one could see the flicker of the pits of hell. Perhaps that were true. To do what she was about to do, she had delved into a wicked and vicious power, a chilling call of the very pits of hell. She had gone forth without fear, until now. This was the first twinge, and she fought it back quickly. If any with her sensed her fear, or any weakness at all, they would turn on her, and she would be left here, alone. That would mean sure death. She was not willing to risk that, so she beat her fear into submission.

She would do this..... Yes, she would do this...

Linathe Veldrin Lincesa had set upon this course as soon as she understood... understood what power was.. what ruling was... as soon as she understood the weakness of the current Emperor Maxentius IV... her own Father. Her Brothers, numbering 3, were... in her mind... were even weaker than her Father had become. She was not about to allow one of them, to take a throne that she rightfully saw as her own. She was not about to allow her Father to keep his throne. His age, and the death of his favored wife, her own mother, had softened the once cold, deliberate, calculating Ruler.

But Linathe was not foolish either. She knew that many were loyal to her Father, and would remain so, no matter what.

It was the legend, the story, the horror of Moloch, that had convinced her that she could do this. She could overthrow her own Father, and her own Brothers. She was strong enough, the words spoke to her, cunning, devious, whispering in her mind as she slept, slipping from her lips as she awoke. The history, and the power of what, even now, her own lands rested upon.

Her own lands.....

These were HER lands... already Linathe was convinced of that. Her lands, to do with as SHE pleased. Her Father, her Brothers, were merely pawns in her plans, in her life, in her rule, in her power.

She had set the events in motion. It had started almost innocently, with her luring the son of a rival into her bed. She cried rape, and the battle began. This was simple, it took out of the equation 2 of the younger brothers, who would lead the battle against the rival's kingdom. Her Father and the Oldest Son, would stay behind. They were responsible... for what lay deep in the bowels of the Perphiron mountain, beneath the city, in the warren of dark chambers and corridors spiralling out from a central vault. They were responsible for the ever-vigilant Custodians which watch over the seals that keep the evil shackled and imprisoned within it. But for Linathe, 2 gone made things so much easier.

Rape... the thought made her laugh. The kid had no clue what was happening. It was more like she raped him. She got no enjoyment out of it, she did it to get what she needed, a reason for war. That left her Father, and the City, so much more vunerable. Of course they believed her, her virginal blood on the sheets proved it. Her tears, evil, wicked, vicious tears, had done what was needed.

Now, even more blood lay on her hands. All had died at her word. She had not drawn the sword or dagger, she had not uttered the words that would slaughter. But all had been done at her.... instigation...

She stood in the darkness. The cloak that had hid her from the eyes of others, drawn tight about her form. If one could see beneath, they would know she indeed was the Princess, she was adorned in the finest silk, that glittered with flecks of silver. But if one looked even deeper, again, one would know she indeed were the Princess. Each of the chosen, her Father, and each of her Brothers, and of course herself, bore the mark of the black rose. It was the mark that had been placed upon the flesh of each Chosen, each Ruler, a mark that identified them with the Guardians of the Perphiron Mountains, where the legendary black roses grew...and what lay deep beneath. She bore that mark, along her spine....

She had used that very mark to convince the Priest that now traveled with her, as well as her other Consorts, that to follow her, was to follow the power. That when she ruled, they would be at her side, her favored.

Of course that were not true. She needed the muscle to get her past the guards, and moreso, the Custodians. The Priest, Marcellus, had come thru... It had taken her a long time to win him over, to convince him that serving her would garner him more power, more wealth, and more strength than he ever could imagine. He had just proven that all her hard work, including her seduction of that very Priest of Deus, had been fruitful.

Rape indeed, she had used another's blood, to stain her sheets that night. Her virginal blood had been spilled long ago, as she gathered her consorts around her... it had been the Priest that had spilled her virginal blood, the Priest Marcellus...

Tonight, all that she herself had sacrificed, would come back to her a thousand fold. Tonight, in the all consuming darkness of the vault buried so deep beneath the Mountain, she would summon forth the one Entity she needed.... she would bind Him to herself, He will be her Slave, her Warrior, her Strength, her Judgement....

She turned to the Priest. Little did he know her plans for him. Yes, he would gain more power, more strength, than he ever imagined, at the cost of his own soul. It was only fitting that a Priest of Deus serve as the vessel for the abomination she would summon.

(to be continued.... )

 

[AmbrosiaCaress]

She had moved to the wall, letting her slender fingers feel along the surface as she slowly stepped, her entourage stumbling along behind her. They really were quite useless at this point, other than the Priest, but she was unsure what else may have been left in these dark tunnels, and shadowed rooms, to guard the Entity she needed, to guard Moloch...

Their fear was palatible. She could almost taste it, and she let her tongue slide languidly along her lips as she thought about it. She liked hearing the whimperings of the men, liked hearing them struggle along behind her. She knew they were frightened, she had felt that same fear. But now, as she tasted and savoured theirs, her own faded even more.

Deeper into the catacombs, the Priest the only one who was not beginning to snivel. She turned to the men behind her. "You will cease this instant. I can not believe you are so afraid of the dark. Another sound and I will sever whoever's tongue it comes from. Do you understand." she shot a look at the Priest. She would not allow them to see that she too had been afraid, and they had every right to be. All knew where they were, and where they were going.

They just did not know the ...... extent.... of the plan.... of her plan.

Most did not understand what she planned to do, Whom she planned to awaken. They just did not understand. Only the Priest understood, but again, even he did not know his role in this.

Linathe herself really did not fully understand what she was about to do, that was part of the problem. Young, chilling, and extremely smart, she was convinced that she could, and would, control what she would summon. Bind Him to her, enslave Him... and He, He would make her more powerful than any could ever fathom. Her word would be law, would be judgement, the city would tremble just hearing her name.

A low thrum began to permeate the darkness. Low, deep, rumbling. The sound rolled thru the thick air, winding around her, and the Priest, as well as the rest of the men with her.

"You, will remain here, only Marcellus, you" she pointed to one consort who stood closest to her "and I shall continue forth" She did not want the Priest to suspect that it would be HE that would be the actual sacrifice. She had to have another in there. Blood would mark him as the sacrifice, the blood of the innocent that she would kill, would mark the Priest as the one....

They did not argue, as the Princess and the Priest, and the other, stepped thru the thrumming archway...

This was it, she knew it. This was it. Linathe could hear the whisperings... those cunning, hypnotic words that seemed to slither around her, touching her, feeling her, enticing her. She felt as if she should brush them off her skin, the tendrils of darkness almost crawling along every curve of her body.

She looked to Marcellus. He was tall, strong, wise, well-versed in the knowledge of Deus and Moloch, yet he still had no clue that she were about to sacrifice his soul... that he would be the vessel, for her summoning.

She stopped in the mid of the room... her breathing deepening, the ones with her standing on either side. Laying her hand to the curved dagger she carried, she began a slow chanting... the words were foreign, spoken in a language only she knew, a language she had learned from reading the teachings of the Custodians, of the Guardians.

"Usstan lar ulu l' oloth, l' yorn nindel wayc'en wun l' veldrin... Usstan lac ulu xl'fye folt z'ress... ulu valbyl nindel z'ress ulu uns'aa... Ussta ssivah zhal tlu nym'uerus, ussta quarth zhal tlu dosst orn... Usstan or'shanse natha dro whol dos ulu mylthar.."

(I call to the darkness, the power that dwells in the shadows... I seek to harness such strength... to bind that strength to me... My voice shall be heard, my command shall be your will... I sacrifice a life for you to devour.. )

She turned to the helpless man at her side, fingers entangling in his hair, she pulling back, the dagger easily slicing into his throat as he screams, blood flowing, spurting, spilling from him....

" ji nindel dos xal tlu duul'sso orn'la, lu' Usstan gultah dos natha quortek... "

(so that you may be free'd, and I offer you a soul... )

She then turned toward the Priest, using the dagger, which was now soaked in fresh, living blood, she splattered the Priest of Deus, marking him as the sacrifice, as the soul, as the.... vessel....

"ji nindel dos xal doer ulu uns'aa, lu' b'luthyrr a ussta talwien... Chath, Niar, Su'aco, Thac'zil, doer ul'naus, ulu duul'sso nindol yorn, ulu duul'sso nindol yah, nindol errdegahr, lu' valbyl ukta ulu USSTA orn..."

(so that you may come to me, and bow at my feet... Fire, Water, Wind, Land, come together, to free this power, to free this god, this demon, and bind him to MY will... )

The words faded as the dying man's screams faded, Linathe feeling, hearing, something..... something evil.... stirring in the darkness.