The Black Dahlia Blooms
Posted: Mon Feb 07, 2022 6:43 pm
59th Frost, 4621
The Reverie
Sleep had been apparent when someone had entered the Reverie; a vast desert for some people. For others a gray crystalline version of the city they reside in. It was something that Salen didn’t feel control of. The dreams, the nightmares and everything around him was just a vast desert. An open path of emptiness with nothing to cross. His own mindscape, a complex void of nothingness. Or so he would think.
He had the power to change that; to locate the engrams that were delved deep within his mindscape. His memory palace. It was something he had control of, perhaps the only thing that he had a say over. Salen channeled his ether to locate his current engrams. The memories that he had once gained, from his experience at Aulen’s party, to the striving of becoming the thing he is today.
The Beauty and the Beast.
Red crystalline orbs would appear as Guidance was channeled; some of them varied in hue, color and size from the most recent and remembered memories pulsated a bright red, others were faint, dim and unlit; like they haven't been stimulated, memories that were subconsciously. They were his engrams, a complex synaptic map of memories that appeared to be linked together one by one. He guided himself further as he had control over his memories, his thoughts and his logical thinking. However, he didn’t have control of one thing. The beings he would meet along the way.
Nightmares.
The things which Salen feared most would come to life, only he had a much more abstract fear. A complex fear that had taken place. Perhaps this was why he came into his mindscape. To explore that fear, to see if he can subdue it from it’s conscious thought. Certain parts of his Reverie were clouded; misty. Black demonic claws would scratch and try to pull at Salen, knowing this was the unrevealed area of his Reverie. Uncharted territory within a mindscape that was revealed to be far too dangerous to venture into.
Hideous laughter.
Guttural growls.
Violent cackling.
The Reverie was both a place of peace, but also the place of the unpredictable. Right in front of him was the Memory Palace. The structure appeared to be building itself as crumbles of rocks would form into what looked like a grandiose mansion, similar to the underground caverns of the Brotherhood’s hideout. As soon as the structure was fully built; Salen opened the door and entered. He suddenly realised he was falling. Falling down a deep dark black hole that seemed bottomless, empty, with nothing to hold and nothing to cling onto. A sign that Salen had a void to fill. A void of emptiness that he was still clinging on. Suddenly a fragmentation of his reality began; the child of a Sil’Elainian refugee taken away from his mother. He watched for a moment as if they were bitter memories, sad ones. The day from childbirth that he’d be confined into the system as a laborer’s child. A slave.
As he explored deeper, he watched as his ambition grew. A sense of guilt could tingle down his spine as he got closer to his engram; the crystalline ball that contained a part of his memories. Perhaps he had the power to forget such a tragic past? Who knows. He could only try for these memories weren’t great ones. Did he truely have that kind of power? The risks of using remnomancy with inexperience were unknown to Salen.
He channeled his ether and began to dim the engram connected to his memory of his childhood as he noticed the crystalline sphere change from a bright red to a dim orange slowly as that memory was placed in the back. The memory palace around him changed as it merged into something different completely. The dream of Amurlain he had. The strange one with fairytale surroundings of a palace, followed by the dense lush green fields, the strange allusion to those beings that would stare at him.
This time, they were far more unpleasant; instead of the amiable nature they had before, the lustful Corvo that welcomed him before would look at him with malevolence, a deep hunger for something. They would reveal themselves as dark, shadow-like creatures. Salen’s eyes widened as he felt a source of fear surging through his mind, causing him to shake.
“Salen, Wake up…” A female voice echoed as it appeared to be an outside presence. Salen would keep running away from the creatures that are chasing him. Their growls and hunger can be heard as he could feel an abject terror rise within him. A paralyzing fear that no one else would feel, it wasn’t until he could feel himself wake up that it dissipated; leaving him in the empty desolate land he saw before.
The Coven of Scaeva
“Salen!” Dahlia stood over at him annoyed as she threw a cold bucket of water over him. Salen gasped as he could feel the shock rise through his system “Fuck, Dahlia!” He protested in annoyance, growling and groaning as he shivered with the cold water against his skin. Dahlia smirked as she crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow “I did say I wanted you for a briefing, lazy… Come on. You have an important assignment to attend to.
She threw him his set of clothes for him. A leather badlander’s jacket, a white shirt, leather boots that appeared to be practical and a belt. Funny? Why did he need this? What was Dahlia planning? It didn’t help that Salen was all wet all of a sudden; perhaps the woman was sadomasochistic in nature. Who knows? The woman was a mystery to Salen and every Corvo here within her sect. It was unpredictable what she was planning. Was this something Salen should be worried about?
For now, he was in safe hands with the woman. He provided him with work, a decent living wage and a place to stay. What more could a man ask for? He was still displeased by the woman’s rash attitude and rude demeanor; it started to get on his nerves. The way she felt entitled to walk into his personal space whenever he liked. He had no control over it, for she was the boss. Things would go her way.
He took one final look in the mirror and smiled back in the face of vanity; he tidied his hair before he took one final ogle at his form, knowing how much the Reveler’s blessing was upon him. It was apparent that one truly never worshiped Brazim unless they truly worshiped themselves. A form of narcissistic pleasure that had been adopted by his cultists ever since the corruption of the god, Brazim.
However, Salen knew something was getting in his way deep down; he did not know what, nor could he point the finger. All he could do was hope and pray in self worship that the Reveler had been answering his prayers. He approached Dahlia in her hazy, yet smoky room, filled with the scents of rose blossom, palm oil and the aphrodisiac, cocoa. It was strangely odd, but it enticed the senses, exposing him to more danger.
“Ahh, you took your time?”
“I simply thought you wanted a moment's peace, so I slept when I asked for you.”
“Into your Reverie? You know that’s dangerous at your level of arcane influence, you’re a fool Salen.”
“I’m a fool if I don’t try” He answered back.
“True, but also you don’t realize the dangers of magic, you haven't even experienced an ounce of it yet? Perhaps I should since you are my responsibility after all.” She said in a sheepish tone. It was strangely uncaring, like he was nothing but a hound for her to set loose on the many Veir she claimed victim to. A lap dog for her schemes.
Salen narrowed his eyes further as he watched her channel ether, producing what was a Shard Resonator. He didn’t know she was a Resoner; what was even more harrowing was what other magic she possessed… Salen didn’t know a single detail about her. They both had something in common.
Two dark horses.
Two scheming devils.
“Are you ready for a journey into the badlands? It’s a simple task really, I heard some Veiren had been very very naughty… Very naughty.” She emphasized.
Salen snorted “That seems to be your trend, don’t you think you should call yourself a slave hunter aswell?”
“Slaves…” She pondered for a moment.
There was a strange darkness to her voice as she finished producing her Shard Resonator. She threw it to Salen as she began to produce an object through her Resonance magic source. A transmisser. She passed it to Salen as she tilted her head.
“Perhaps you should get going now, it’s only a matter of time before the sandstorms sweep the land with corruption again. Contact me if you need any assistance. I will get you out of there in no time, don’t lose the Resonator or I won’t be able to get you.” She smirked.
“Perhaps you might play damsel in distress this time?” She laughed.
Salen snorted as he disapproved of the patronizing nature of the woman.
“Yeah, fuck you too.”
“Go!”
Salen left the room as he was going to be debriefed when he got there.
Apparently.
Dahlia was known to throw Salen in the deep end at times, perhaps for his own benefit. His own growth.
The Reverie
Sleep had been apparent when someone had entered the Reverie; a vast desert for some people. For others a gray crystalline version of the city they reside in. It was something that Salen didn’t feel control of. The dreams, the nightmares and everything around him was just a vast desert. An open path of emptiness with nothing to cross. His own mindscape, a complex void of nothingness. Or so he would think.
He had the power to change that; to locate the engrams that were delved deep within his mindscape. His memory palace. It was something he had control of, perhaps the only thing that he had a say over. Salen channeled his ether to locate his current engrams. The memories that he had once gained, from his experience at Aulen’s party, to the striving of becoming the thing he is today.
The Beauty and the Beast.
Red crystalline orbs would appear as Guidance was channeled; some of them varied in hue, color and size from the most recent and remembered memories pulsated a bright red, others were faint, dim and unlit; like they haven't been stimulated, memories that were subconsciously. They were his engrams, a complex synaptic map of memories that appeared to be linked together one by one. He guided himself further as he had control over his memories, his thoughts and his logical thinking. However, he didn’t have control of one thing. The beings he would meet along the way.
Nightmares.
The things which Salen feared most would come to life, only he had a much more abstract fear. A complex fear that had taken place. Perhaps this was why he came into his mindscape. To explore that fear, to see if he can subdue it from it’s conscious thought. Certain parts of his Reverie were clouded; misty. Black demonic claws would scratch and try to pull at Salen, knowing this was the unrevealed area of his Reverie. Uncharted territory within a mindscape that was revealed to be far too dangerous to venture into.
Hideous laughter.
Guttural growls.
Violent cackling.
The Reverie was both a place of peace, but also the place of the unpredictable. Right in front of him was the Memory Palace. The structure appeared to be building itself as crumbles of rocks would form into what looked like a grandiose mansion, similar to the underground caverns of the Brotherhood’s hideout. As soon as the structure was fully built; Salen opened the door and entered. He suddenly realised he was falling. Falling down a deep dark black hole that seemed bottomless, empty, with nothing to hold and nothing to cling onto. A sign that Salen had a void to fill. A void of emptiness that he was still clinging on. Suddenly a fragmentation of his reality began; the child of a Sil’Elainian refugee taken away from his mother. He watched for a moment as if they were bitter memories, sad ones. The day from childbirth that he’d be confined into the system as a laborer’s child. A slave.
As he explored deeper, he watched as his ambition grew. A sense of guilt could tingle down his spine as he got closer to his engram; the crystalline ball that contained a part of his memories. Perhaps he had the power to forget such a tragic past? Who knows. He could only try for these memories weren’t great ones. Did he truely have that kind of power? The risks of using remnomancy with inexperience were unknown to Salen.
He channeled his ether and began to dim the engram connected to his memory of his childhood as he noticed the crystalline sphere change from a bright red to a dim orange slowly as that memory was placed in the back. The memory palace around him changed as it merged into something different completely. The dream of Amurlain he had. The strange one with fairytale surroundings of a palace, followed by the dense lush green fields, the strange allusion to those beings that would stare at him.
This time, they were far more unpleasant; instead of the amiable nature they had before, the lustful Corvo that welcomed him before would look at him with malevolence, a deep hunger for something. They would reveal themselves as dark, shadow-like creatures. Salen’s eyes widened as he felt a source of fear surging through his mind, causing him to shake.
“Salen, Wake up…” A female voice echoed as it appeared to be an outside presence. Salen would keep running away from the creatures that are chasing him. Their growls and hunger can be heard as he could feel an abject terror rise within him. A paralyzing fear that no one else would feel, it wasn’t until he could feel himself wake up that it dissipated; leaving him in the empty desolate land he saw before.
The Coven of Scaeva
“Salen!” Dahlia stood over at him annoyed as she threw a cold bucket of water over him. Salen gasped as he could feel the shock rise through his system “Fuck, Dahlia!” He protested in annoyance, growling and groaning as he shivered with the cold water against his skin. Dahlia smirked as she crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow “I did say I wanted you for a briefing, lazy… Come on. You have an important assignment to attend to.
She threw him his set of clothes for him. A leather badlander’s jacket, a white shirt, leather boots that appeared to be practical and a belt. Funny? Why did he need this? What was Dahlia planning? It didn’t help that Salen was all wet all of a sudden; perhaps the woman was sadomasochistic in nature. Who knows? The woman was a mystery to Salen and every Corvo here within her sect. It was unpredictable what she was planning. Was this something Salen should be worried about?
For now, he was in safe hands with the woman. He provided him with work, a decent living wage and a place to stay. What more could a man ask for? He was still displeased by the woman’s rash attitude and rude demeanor; it started to get on his nerves. The way she felt entitled to walk into his personal space whenever he liked. He had no control over it, for she was the boss. Things would go her way.
He took one final look in the mirror and smiled back in the face of vanity; he tidied his hair before he took one final ogle at his form, knowing how much the Reveler’s blessing was upon him. It was apparent that one truly never worshiped Brazim unless they truly worshiped themselves. A form of narcissistic pleasure that had been adopted by his cultists ever since the corruption of the god, Brazim.
However, Salen knew something was getting in his way deep down; he did not know what, nor could he point the finger. All he could do was hope and pray in self worship that the Reveler had been answering his prayers. He approached Dahlia in her hazy, yet smoky room, filled with the scents of rose blossom, palm oil and the aphrodisiac, cocoa. It was strangely odd, but it enticed the senses, exposing him to more danger.
“Ahh, you took your time?”
“I simply thought you wanted a moment's peace, so I slept when I asked for you.”
“Into your Reverie? You know that’s dangerous at your level of arcane influence, you’re a fool Salen.”
“I’m a fool if I don’t try” He answered back.
“True, but also you don’t realize the dangers of magic, you haven't even experienced an ounce of it yet? Perhaps I should since you are my responsibility after all.” She said in a sheepish tone. It was strangely uncaring, like he was nothing but a hound for her to set loose on the many Veir she claimed victim to. A lap dog for her schemes.
Salen narrowed his eyes further as he watched her channel ether, producing what was a Shard Resonator. He didn’t know she was a Resoner; what was even more harrowing was what other magic she possessed… Salen didn’t know a single detail about her. They both had something in common.
Two dark horses.
Two scheming devils.
“Are you ready for a journey into the badlands? It’s a simple task really, I heard some Veiren had been very very naughty… Very naughty.” She emphasized.
Salen snorted “That seems to be your trend, don’t you think you should call yourself a slave hunter aswell?”
“Slaves…” She pondered for a moment.
There was a strange darkness to her voice as she finished producing her Shard Resonator. She threw it to Salen as she began to produce an object through her Resonance magic source. A transmisser. She passed it to Salen as she tilted her head.
“Perhaps you should get going now, it’s only a matter of time before the sandstorms sweep the land with corruption again. Contact me if you need any assistance. I will get you out of there in no time, don’t lose the Resonator or I won’t be able to get you.” She smirked.
“Perhaps you might play damsel in distress this time?” She laughed.
Salen snorted as he disapproved of the patronizing nature of the woman.
“Yeah, fuck you too.”
“Go!”
Salen left the room as he was going to be debriefed when he got there.
Apparently.
Dahlia was known to throw Salen in the deep end at times, perhaps for his own benefit. His own growth.