The Well Of Souls (closed for Firmhanded_Daddy)

[DarkWarrioress]

~ Nex est tamen viaticus. animus est perpes. ~
Translation: Death is but a journey. The Soul is neverending.​

There are many things beyond the comprehension of mankind and some things even beyond the gods who created them. The Well of Souls is one such phenomena. It is where all the souls of mankind return to before they are reborn into the world of man. Arianna is the Well’s Guardian. No soul comes or goes without her knowing of it. Never before in the existence of the gods has there been an incident where the Well is concerned. One should never say never, however. For such a day arrived. The day Arianna learned that the Well of Souls was becoming empty.

The news had stirred the gods into a semi-frenzy. Who or what was keeping the souls from returning to their point of origin? And for what purpose? While those questions needed to be answered, more immediate, was the need for a solution. Mankind can not be born into the existence without a soul. The implications of such a thing were horrendous. There was more. The numbers of the faithless were growing. These faithless souls bore a mark. A mark that did not allow The One to lay claim to them. Therefore, these souls floated in some sort of purgatory forming a wall around the plane the gods lived on. Eventually, these souls were absorbed into the Well. It just became a rather lengthy matter.

Though it took time, (what was time to a god?) the gods found that the source of their troubles was mortal bound. And it is here that our tale begins.

~~ ~~​

“What do you mean I need to go there, Zepheriah? You know how much the mortals try my patience. Is there no other way?”

The older god put a consoling hand on Arianna’s shoulder and squeezed. His eyes were gentle and compassionate.

“Arianna, you were the best choice. The Well is your responsibility. Therefore, so too are the souls that dwell in it.You have an affinity with these souls, that was why you were given this charge to begin with. You, more than others, feel them. Understand them.”

“Ironic, isn’t it Zepheriah? Mortals try my patience to no end and yet, I understand their souls. The One has a curious sense of humor.”

Zepheriah chuckled, squeezed her shoulder before removing his hand. Turning back to a table laden with scrolls, he unrolled one and studied it.

“You will be given the blessings of The Huntress and of War. You will find in your room bow, arrow and sword waiting for you, “ he glanced over at her, “use your goddess gifts sparingly, Arianna. You know as well as I do such things leave a trail that an experienced magic user can pick up and follow. We are sending you down there to be a savior not become a victim.”

There was no use trying to fight the inevitable. Their minds were set in stone.

~~ ~~​

In her room she found, as Zepheriah had promised, lying on her bed, a silver bow and a quiver of arrows, made from the ash tree. Lying close by was a gleaming sword. While Arianna admired them, she was glad she knew how to use them. In fact, she knew quite well. Perhaps the gods had been wise in making her the Guardian of the Well. By the stars, Ari had sent enough souls into it when she had been earthbound before. She had little compunction about sending a mortal to his justice and releasing his soul. It was still, an even greater irony. Perhaps even karmic return for her zealousness.


Mind her temper. Exert her patience. Use her given talents sparingly. Bah. This journey to the earthly plane was going to be hell.

 

[Firmhanded_Daddy]

“Are you insane? Even if that could work you are talking about gambling with not only your life but your very soul. The gods are not ones to take meddling lightly, especially meddling like this. We have both seen the effects of their wrath. Think about this, Caron.”

The dark haired man’s voice did not seem to register. He reached up to drag his fingers through his hair in a gesture of frustration. Victus was a powerful man, yet he chose seclusion for a reason. People were always curious about magic, what it could do, what were the limits, what it could be used for. Yet he had seen first hand the horror magic could unleash upon the world. A light knock halted the conversation as a lovely young dark haired woman entered the room with a tray of tea and two cups in hand.

Victus smiled toward her and when he smiled the resemblance was remarkable. When he smiled the years that had been so hard on him seemed to melt away. She had his striking, bright green eyes.

“Thank you my dear. The table is fine”

The young woman set the tray on the table and smiled at the pair of men before drifting back to the wall out of the way.

“Please Cynthia this is conversation best held in private.”

“Yes father. I’ll leave you to-“

“No Victus, the girl should stay. I will have your cooperation with this, or you will get out of my way. I have known you for years and I know how persistent and defiant you are. That has been an asset until now. All things come to an end however. If you will not help me then I must take certain precautions. “

The cleric reached beneath his tabard and pulled free a necklace made of onyx stone. He gestured toward Cynthia and gave a wicked smile. The very air within the small room seemed to freeze. Light itself ceased to exist and a great darkness swarmed around the young woman. She did not even have time to scream. Within the shroud of darkness a pure white light condensed on her skin. It looked as if the woman had started sweating a film of silver. The light stretched like it were being pulled but tried to resist, then it turned into a thin white spear and was tugged from her body into the amulet surrounding the cleric’s throat. The body went pale and fell to the ground like a marionette with the strings snipped. No breath, eyes glazed and staring.

He could have stopped it, he could have countered the spell but he was simply so shocked that his long time friend would do this of all things. He only stared in horror as Caron ripped the soul straight out of his only daughter. There was no rebuke, no question, he simply gave a guttural scream of horror. Before he had a conscious thought his blade was in hand and he flung his hands out violently. The smell of sulfur was still on his fingers as he tossed the alchemical mixture and spat the words. The ball ignited like flint on stone and just as the explosion roared through the room and threatened to engulf his daughter’s body and himself his hands lifted into the air and the quickened spell came into effect. The explosion struck an invisible wall and instead and the explosion compressed back like a ricocheting bullet. The force was too much for the stone wall to handle. It burst under the roaring explosion and sent the body of the cleric with it. Propelled like a missile the smoldering body drifted through the air falling toward the ear at ear shattering speed.

In his rage he had forgotten about the amulet. He ran toward the hole in the wall and he screamed out the arcane words and made a scooping gesture. The body simply stopped falling as if it were caught and it drifted back up toward him. He began to change the spell that would destroy the amulet and send the soul of his daughter back into the well. From there he could use a more powerful spell to bring her back…at a cost. It was then he saw just how powerful his old friend had become.

Without a word or a gesture the spell containing him simply shattered. He felt the backlash of arcane energy like a slap to the face. One moment the body of Caron was falling, the next it was standing back where it started despite the charred ruin of a room. The wall of force also had been shattered by the powerful disjunction spell cast at a whim. Caron’s body was healed of the intense burns and he simply stood there, with a smug smile.

“That…was a mistake Victus”

Caron raised his hand and spoke the language of the gods. This was another spell Victus knew from his studies and his time spent with Caron. It was a favorite of his. Victus gathered himself and hissed out the words for a spell that would absorb the attack and turn the energy into a resource for himself. That was when he felt the white hot ray of light pierce his chest. A second seared a hole through his abdomen. A third and fourth pierced his thighs and his weight bore him to his knees.

Caron approached as Victus struggled to regain his breath. He gave the mage a look of disdain and began drawing a symbol in the air. Victus’ contingency spell kicked in just in time. His skin hardened like stone and the outline of his body became a blur making it almost impossible to see exactly where he was. Neither of these spells would save him from what was to come, especially of the other spell had simply…failed. He couldn’t understand why, or how. He did something in that moment that he had not done in a long time. He prayed for help.

With his flagging strength he drew the blade upward in what would have been a killing stroke from groin to chest. The magically enhanced blade struck Caron’s body and glanced off harmlessly from his armor. So he had come prepared for this, very prepared. He knew what was about to happen and it only fed his rage.

“Not only am I going to kill you Victus. I am going to add your corpse, and that of your daughter’s to my army. You see a very essential part of my plan is to reap as many souls as I can. You know how many unbelievers there are out there? Not even the gods will be able to stop me by the time I am done and they will never know what happened until I am at their doorstep…”

Rage fueled him, gave him the energy for one final attack. He held his hands up as if gripping Caron in his hands and pulled his hands apart, shouting arcane syllables. The flesh literally started to rip from Caron’s body, the cleric started to double over in pain but then spoke a word and the effect simply dissipated.

The cleric raised a hand to the sigil he had been drawing and simply stuck his hand through it. It had substance almost like clay and it crumbled at the clerics touch. Just like the sigil drawn from energy Victus’ body went limp. He felt what remained of his life drain away and as he died he muttered one final prayer. Not for mercy, not for justice, but for vengeance. For the strength to avenge his daughter.

 

[DarkWarrioress]

~Vengeance optimus servo postulo of Alius .~
Translation: Vengeance best serves the needs of Others.​

Arianna was looking around her in dismay having found herself in knee deep in water and wondered how in the name of the heavens she had managed that, even though she knew she was directionally challenged. By the gods, water was as cold as she remembered it to be. Sloshing out of the lake, she looked down at her soaked knee high leather boots with a rueful grin. The goosebumps that had formed on her thighs made her wish for a fire. Dare she risk using her abilities to build one? A tingle started at the base of her skull and slid down her spine. Ari’s head shot up sharply as she scanned sky above the tree tops. There it was. The shimmer. One she knew only too well. The leaves on the ground swirling about was the only indication she had been there at all.

She could see him. The essence of him, hovering over his mortal body as she approached silently, stopping mere feet from his fallen mortal body. Ari lifted a hand and the severance of the delicate cord that held his soul anchored, quivered and halted.

“Is that truly your wish, vengeance?”

The voice that spoke was cool, seemingly detached. The red-headed goddess stood there, dressed in leather, from her tunic to her mid-thigh cut skirt to her still soaking boots. Her features made her look more like a Fae One than a goddess. Not that, that was a bad thing. It was just that sometimes, she wished she looked more refined and classically like the other goddesses. There was no mistaking them for anything other than the magnificent goddesses they were.

She folded her arms over her chest. Her bow slung over her shoulder. The hilt of her sword peeking over the other one. Her red hair was tucked behind her ears. One thin, delicate brow was arched upward slightly. Her hazel eyes were veiled with barely concealed sarcasm and something else. Expectancy. She was going to need help here on the mortal plane. Time enough later to understand his need for vengeance.

“You have but little time left, Mortal. Your soul is close to being clipped. Once that happens, there is nothing I can do for you. Your soul goes to the Well…. or not,” the last she had muttered in a whisper, “I have the ability to restore you, but it will cost you. I require help here on your plane. Perhaps we can help each other. So quickly, what will it be? Shall I restore you to life upon your agreement to accompany me on my quest or do I simply allow your soul to travel beyond your need for vengeance?"

There was more here than what she could see. Perhaps it had something to do with her quest and perhaps not. The Fates were fickle bitches. Neither gods and goddesses nor humans could circumvent them. However, The One had given her limited powers in some areas and in this, she could prevent his soul from leaving his body, restoring him to life, but he had to be quick to choose.

Impatience filled her eyes as she waited for the mortal's answer. Never one to have patience to begin with was probably why she had been given guardianship over the Well. if Ari couldn't learn it, it would be instilled into her, by one method or another. Her booted foot began to tap on the ground impatiently.

What was there to think over? Either he wanted to live or he did not. It was a simple choice, was it not?

 

[Firmhanded_Daddy]

The searing pain in his body vanished. Dying was an odd thing really. There were no lights, no voices, no heralds to the other side. One moment he was in agony, his battered body unable to drag ragged breath; then he was free. He was still tethered to his mortal form but he could not feel. It was the distinct lack of sensation that was bizarre. It was so strange to be able to think and reason but not be distracted by all of the excess information of the mortal coil. Perhaps this was one of many reasons why magi took the step to become a lich? Think of the greatness possible when you no longer had to focus on eating, heating your skin, drawing breath. The human body was like a furnace that burned hot and constant. Without the needs of mortality the mind could be freed.

He was musing upon these thoughts, his mind sifting through memories, thoughts. Perhaps he could accomplish his goal and purchase time? The trick would be to find a way to unleash magic without a corporeal form. Magic had very specific rules and requirements. It often required gestures, words, and material components. Lacking a body made this… problematic.

He did not have much time to muse upon his current circumstances.

Suddenly she was there. It was like being dragged beneath the crushing black waves of the ocean, being dragged fathoms down in a heartbeat. Her presence was potent, nearly overpowering and slightly uncomfortable. Just being near her, he could feel her power radiating through the substance of his soul. Even if he did not recognize what she was, somehow in the essence of his being, he knew. So when he turned toward her his tone was a bit more reverent than he would use to address a normal being.

“I accept the terms. I will pay whatever price required to rend his body and soul. He will pay for what he has done.”

He fell silent and took the time to observe the manifestation. She was a striking creature for certain. Crimson waves of hair, leather clinging to supple curves, he could not help but feel stirred by her beauty. If she could restore him he would pay her price, serve her needs. If he was going to have to take direction from someone else at least it would be pleasant to look upon her.

 

[DarkWarrioress]

~ Illic est a pretium ut panton ~
Translation: There is a price to everything.
​

Her eyebrow twitched. She had a feeling he didn’t know what he was letting himself in for, but that wasn’t her concern.

“Very well then, Mortal. You will indenture yourself to me for the duration of my need for your assistance and in return you will get your life returned to you. However, let me be clear. My mission comes first. Your vengeance is secondary. Now, if you’re ready, place your hand in mine. You might not be corporeal at the moment, but then,” she chuckled, “I’m not a mortal either.”

She started to hold out her hand to him then pulled it back swiftly, “I better warn you, this isn’t going to be pretty and it might just hurt. A lot. At least initially. Prepare yourself.”

Ari then extended her hand, palm upward, toward him. As soon and if he had chosen to do so, he would feel as if he were snatched back by a giant hand toward his body. The jolt of it would be tremendous. Her hand that had been held up to still the final clip of the cord that held him anchored to his mortal body, moved. A single fingertip delicately touched the thread as light surged through her, into her arm, extending upward to her finger and into that thread. It spread into the thread, moving both upward toward his soul and downward into his body until his mortal body was flooded with it. The light drew his soul down into the thread and into his prone body once more. There was not part of him that was left untouched by the light. Not one toenail or one strand of hair. The light made his body glow brightly for a few heartbeats then slowly faded and as it did so, the cord slowly faded back into his body. Arianna stepped back to give him some space. She crouched down on her heels, intently watching his body, waiting for that first deep inhale of breath to surge through him. Waited for the pain that caused his death to being with, flood him before it subsided. She was always fascinated with the process.

Ari slipped her bow from her shoulder and set it slowly on the ground next to her feet. Her eyes were still fastened on the prone form before her. Sometimes, they came back and came up fighting, unaware of what had happened to them. It was as if they never realized how close to dying they had come. They remembered their last moment and then simply transitioned into the next. A rare few knew what had happened. Which was he, she wondered idly. Her eyes roamed over his body, watching as the mortal wounds he had sustained in some sort of attack, disappear, healing itself. A small gift she had imparted into the light that had drawn his soul back into his body. Afterall, she didn’t have time to wait for his natural bodily process to heal him. She had things to do. People to hunt down and she needed him healthy. More than likely she was going to need his arcane talents. Oh yes, she knew he was a magick user. She could see it and feel it. Whomever he was that would wreak this man’s vengeance, she almost felt sorry for. Almost.

 

[Firmhanded_Daddy]

He listened intently as she gave her directions. Put his hand in hers huh? Simple as that? It took effort just to figure out where his hand was in this strange new form, yet just as he managed to reach for her hand she pulled it back as if burned in a fire. He looked around expecting some sort of attack. Being between the well, and life was an unnerving feeling, but no attack came. Instead she gave a warning that this was going to hurt. Well he had just died so he imagined that this would likely feel about like that.

The wounds he had suffered were not immediately fatal. It was the draining of his energy that had done him in. That first breath drawn was ragged and wet. From the sound of it, the chances were good there was fluid in his lungs and he had a sucking chest wound. He was in tremendous pain but he had spent his entire life learning to impose his will on raw arcane power, trying to think while in pain was an acquired skill.

That did not stop the coughing, the gasping for air as he started to suffocate on his own fluids. A frantic thought pierced the logical side of his brain, perhaps this creature restored him only to watch him die again? No, he knew better. That strange light had a touch of the divine in it and he could already feel his body mending itself. It was the strangest sensation to be healed with magic. Most people described it as warm and comforting. He described it as itchy. He sat up slowly, testing his previously shattered body gingerly. The pain was already fading and soon was gone all together. He took a deep breath and managed not to cough. Good! All good signs; so now where was his ‘rescuer’ He looked around and then saw her kneeling with her back toward the ruined wall.

Slowly he got to his feet and nodded to her.

“Have no fear, I am a man of my word, I will temper my vengeance until we have completed your task. Now if I may ask, what is your name? I can only assume you are some sort of deific creature. An infernal would not have been so gentle about slamming me back into my body. Nor would they have been able to do so with such ease. I am Victus”

 

[DarkWarrioress]

~ Infinit ~
Translation: It begins.​

She watched emotions flint across his facial features. Her own look was thoughtful.

Interesting. Either it was Divine guidance as in, little help from her plane or just plain stupid luck that she had discovered this Victus. As he got to his feet finally, he spoke.

“Have no fear, I am a man of my word, I will temper my vengeance until we have completed your task. Now if I may ask, what is your name? I can only assume you are some sort of deific creature. An infernal would not have been so gentle about slamming me back into my body. Nor would they have been able to do so with such ease. I am Victus”

She didn’t answer him right away. Instead she stood up slowly with bow in hand, putting it back in its rightful place over her shoulder. She took her time meeting his eyes, choosing first to dust off her outer garments. Ari rolled her shoulders. Wearing a mortal shell again took some getting use to.

“You may call me Arianna. What I am and what our mission is, I shall explain later. We should get moving away from here.”

She glanced around at the ruined wall, obviously made so by magic. Ari turned back to look at Victus, her brow arching.

“Apparently you have a powerful enemy. One that will be very enraged once they learn you still live. Your home, I gather?”

She nodded to the building behind her.

“Is there anything you wish to take from there? If so, please hurry. We need to be on our way and as we travel, I will be more than willing to explain who I am and what we are going to do.”

If there was anything he wished to take from his home, she waited for him to retrieve it. She tried not to let her impatience show. Ari wanted to be on her way. She wanted to begin her search for whomever was syphoning off the souls or rather, who was keeping them from returning to their rightful place, The Well. She shifted restlessly on her feet, nibbling on her bottom lip as she waited for Victus. Where to even start her search. Was she dealing with another mortal here or something more? And what had he or quite possibly she, done with these souls? There was always a chance of losing them. Surely not all, but some and even losing one was unacceptable. A soul was an endless being. Victus lived in this world of mortals. Maybe he could shed some light on this mission.