The Wind Stills
The first of the mnemonic editors clicks into place, and the process begins.
You don't see anything, but you're not in darkness. There is a three-dimensional aspect to the blackness, as if you were standing in a cube made of the color. You flex your fingers, but feel no air push between them... Yet you can breathe.
Tommen: "First trip to the Void?"
You turn, and find the scraggly form of Tommen standing in the black. You open your mouth to speak, but no sound comes out.
Tommen: "Don't bother. It takes years to learn to talk here, and we don't have that kind of time."
The boy raises a hand, and matter spreads from inside his body, encompassing the black and becoming something else. Seven stone plinths burst up from the ground, and holograms occupy each one.
On the first, Alexander Marcus looks cooly ahead, the shadow of Nassistra over one shoulder, and Jestyr over the next.
Second, an image of Jun Zhao, with Old Man Langdon chained at his feet, and the standard of the Devourer at his back.
Third, an image of Abelina Tremont, her clothes stripped away, with Wither pumping through her veins. The Horseman of War rides behind her, Szuriel's black tears present in his eyes.
Fourth, an image of the Gorgon, the Swarm all about him, with the Horseman of Pestilence in tow.
Fifth, an image of Dominic Altraeza, his eyes hungry with revenge, the Horseman of Famine at his side.
Sixth, an image of young Catherine, staring into the sky. Although no Horseman rides behind her, she radiates with Charon's aura, and there is an old cruelty buried in her eyes.
Seventh, a harsh swirling mass of chaos and darkness, from where the Skinny Men are born. Although you have never laid eyes on it, you know this to be a shard of Rovagug, separate from all the rest, which hunts creatures like you with fervor.
Tommen: "These are your enemies, Mist. But the scheme is-"
Everything fades away, your conscious mind climbing to the forefront, when the second mnemonic editor stabs into your skull, and the second session starts.
Tommen: "-than you might think."
Above Alexander and his patrons, you see a thin form in black, with a mane of glowing, yellow hair behind him -- Carsai, the King of Aucturn, aspect of Nyarlathotep. The seven plinths slide closer, and Nyarlathotep hovers over them all, an aura not unlike the Void emanating off them.
Tommen: "These are the enemies of all of existence, and the unmakers of my world. But the Dark Walkers have another enemy..."
The entire vision shakes, as your body convulses back on the Material Plane. For a moment, you think the whole thing will come crashing down, and then something is ripped from you, and it all settles.
Tommen: "Your generation... Risking death to rid yourself of mere trauma?"
The boy waves away dismissively -- an expression straight from an elderly man's playbook.
Tommen: "Fear Kesil, for he is not as he seems. He wishes for prosperity and peace, but believes it can only be achieved under his control. A dictator in all but name."
Separate from the first group, the Wizard King rises from his plinth, standing tall over his subordinates -- Chandra, Gaezel Penumbra, and dozens of others. A line cuts forth from the blackness of Rovagug, and settles in Kesil's hand.
Tommen: "Kesil possesses what the Jestyr seeks, so two sides go to war."
Another group rises, headed by a devil in luxurious robes, holding aloft his ruby scepter -- Asmodeus.
Tommen: "This one believes that Kesil's prize can be used for greater things -- to bring Hell to Golarion, and then the greater realm. But he fears the Jestyr's ambition, and thus he and Kesil are locked in silent alliance..."
A green line springs between Kesil and Asmodeus as the two groups move closer together, standing across an angry, red line with Nyarlathotep.
Tommen: "But the saviors of Tyrnog don't realize the truth, that our other, mutual enemy is close to home."
A third group arises behind Kesil and Asmodeus, with the bandaged form of Rufus atop it. The Centurion, Chess, and thousands of others explode below them, each attached to Rufus' hand by a puppeteer's string.
Tommen: "The gods of this iteration wish to preserve what they have. The One God seeks paradise -- no matter how many iterations it takes to achieve. Nyarlathotep wants to destroy it all, as he has done to so many existences before this one, and will do so to countless more in the future."
Tommen walks up beside you, the sound of his rotten teeth grating in your ear.
Tommen: "The Walkers and their ilk, such as your friend Ferro, believe they can stop this war. As if Nyarlathotep's hunger could be satisfied. As if he could be rebuked. As if the One God were not mad, and desperate to suceed where he has failed millions -- perhaps even billions -- of times before you."
Despite logic, the pitch-black grows darker, and a form appears above all. Your eyes can't capture it, it's too vast. The Infinity Worm circles in on itself into the sky, stretching further and further, its grotesque body writhing in the Void. Tommen cooes as he sees it, like a parent gesturing to their child.
Tommen: "So I found another way. One too vile for the Walkers' gentle stomachs, but with so much promise..."
Tommen's empty eye looks at you, and this time you see not a gaping socket, but the Void howling within.
Tommen: "Feed the Worm."
With a rush, you pull up from the operating bed, your muscles sore from 48 hours on the mat. Looking about, everything appears to be as it should, but you feel fundamentally changed, the forces of your brother's influence having left your body. For the first time in years, you feel wholly yourself, devoid of mixed emotion.
You feel like Thunder in the Mist, and no one else.
You don't see anything, but you're not in darkness. There is a three-dimensional aspect to the blackness, as if you were standing in a cube made of the color. You flex your fingers, but feel no air push between them... Yet you can breathe.
Tommen: "First trip to the Void?"
You turn, and find the scraggly form of Tommen standing in the black. You open your mouth to speak, but no sound comes out.
Tommen: "Don't bother. It takes years to learn to talk here, and we don't have that kind of time."
The boy raises a hand, and matter spreads from inside his body, encompassing the black and becoming something else. Seven stone plinths burst up from the ground, and holograms occupy each one.
On the first, Alexander Marcus looks cooly ahead, the shadow of Nassistra over one shoulder, and Jestyr over the next.
Second, an image of Jun Zhao, with Old Man Langdon chained at his feet, and the standard of the Devourer at his back.
Third, an image of Abelina Tremont, her clothes stripped away, with Wither pumping through her veins. The Horseman of War rides behind her, Szuriel's black tears present in his eyes.
Fourth, an image of the Gorgon, the Swarm all about him, with the Horseman of Pestilence in tow.
Fifth, an image of Dominic Altraeza, his eyes hungry with revenge, the Horseman of Famine at his side.
Sixth, an image of young Catherine, staring into the sky. Although no Horseman rides behind her, she radiates with Charon's aura, and there is an old cruelty buried in her eyes.
Seventh, a harsh swirling mass of chaos and darkness, from where the Skinny Men are born. Although you have never laid eyes on it, you know this to be a shard of Rovagug, separate from all the rest, which hunts creatures like you with fervor.
Tommen: "These are your enemies, Mist. But the scheme is-"
Everything fades away, your conscious mind climbing to the forefront, when the second mnemonic editor stabs into your skull, and the second session starts.
Tommen: "-than you might think."
Above Alexander and his patrons, you see a thin form in black, with a mane of glowing, yellow hair behind him -- Carsai, the King of Aucturn, aspect of Nyarlathotep. The seven plinths slide closer, and Nyarlathotep hovers over them all, an aura not unlike the Void emanating off them.
Tommen: "These are the enemies of all of existence, and the unmakers of my world. But the Dark Walkers have another enemy..."
The entire vision shakes, as your body convulses back on the Material Plane. For a moment, you think the whole thing will come crashing down, and then something is ripped from you, and it all settles.
Tommen: "Your generation... Risking death to rid yourself of mere trauma?"
The boy waves away dismissively -- an expression straight from an elderly man's playbook.
Tommen: "Fear Kesil, for he is not as he seems. He wishes for prosperity and peace, but believes it can only be achieved under his control. A dictator in all but name."
Separate from the first group, the Wizard King rises from his plinth, standing tall over his subordinates -- Chandra, Gaezel Penumbra, and dozens of others. A line cuts forth from the blackness of Rovagug, and settles in Kesil's hand.
Tommen: "Kesil possesses what the Jestyr seeks, so two sides go to war."
Another group rises, headed by a devil in luxurious robes, holding aloft his ruby scepter -- Asmodeus.
Tommen: "This one believes that Kesil's prize can be used for greater things -- to bring Hell to Golarion, and then the greater realm. But he fears the Jestyr's ambition, and thus he and Kesil are locked in silent alliance..."
A green line springs between Kesil and Asmodeus as the two groups move closer together, standing across an angry, red line with Nyarlathotep.
Tommen: "But the saviors of Tyrnog don't realize the truth, that our other, mutual enemy is close to home."
A third group arises behind Kesil and Asmodeus, with the bandaged form of Rufus atop it. The Centurion, Chess, and thousands of others explode below them, each attached to Rufus' hand by a puppeteer's string.
Tommen: "The gods of this iteration wish to preserve what they have. The One God seeks paradise -- no matter how many iterations it takes to achieve. Nyarlathotep wants to destroy it all, as he has done to so many existences before this one, and will do so to countless more in the future."
Tommen walks up beside you, the sound of his rotten teeth grating in your ear.
Tommen: "The Walkers and their ilk, such as your friend Ferro, believe they can stop this war. As if Nyarlathotep's hunger could be satisfied. As if he could be rebuked. As if the One God were not mad, and desperate to suceed where he has failed millions -- perhaps even billions -- of times before you."
Despite logic, the pitch-black grows darker, and a form appears above all. Your eyes can't capture it, it's too vast. The Infinity Worm circles in on itself into the sky, stretching further and further, its grotesque body writhing in the Void. Tommen cooes as he sees it, like a parent gesturing to their child.
Tommen: "So I found another way. One too vile for the Walkers' gentle stomachs, but with so much promise..."
Tommen's empty eye looks at you, and this time you see not a gaping socket, but the Void howling within.
Tommen: "Feed the Worm."
With a rush, you pull up from the operating bed, your muscles sore from 48 hours on the mat. Looking about, everything appears to be as it should, but you feel fundamentally changed, the forces of your brother's influence having left your body. For the first time in years, you feel wholly yourself, devoid of mixed emotion.
You feel like Thunder in the Mist, and no one else.
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