The First Land Herald/432-05-13

Article Number: Unknown article number

Dateline: 432-05-13

UNNAMED SCHOLAR SPEAKS OF DEMON PRIESTESS Yesterday in the Crossing, the Anduwen Watch held a memorial service in honor of the Necromancer Osven and all those who fought in the battle against Maelshyve. To be clear, the official stance of the Anduwen Watch is that Necromancy is heresy and the group neither supports nor condones the heinous practice. However, the Watch chose to acknowledge the unprecedented defeat of a demon and the crucial aid received from the Necromancer, while simultaneously condemning his methods. I cannot press that point enough: What we accomplished was not only unprecedented but of staggering significance. I might liken it to a colony of ants destroying a city. Our understanding of the planes and our ability to combat such mighty forces, long thought beyond our means, have increased a hundredfold, if not more. We are suddenly given teeth — and we might need them. Saragos began the ceremony by speaking passionately on the subject, saying in particular, "The struggle against annihilation is written into the bones of our world… [The victory against Maelshyve] is an action that will reverberate in history. We ended a demon. Any extraplanar beings watching will know that the inhabitants of the Plane of Abiding will not simply cower, waiting to be devoured. For once, we eliminated one of these ancient threats, one even the Imperial College could not." He went on to honor the memory of Osven and his sacrifice, hoping that the Immortals would extend him relief. Many attended, including some Necromancers given special leave for this event only. When it was time for the audience to speak in remembrance, the Philosopher Yvela spoke of how she believed Osven's soul was "resplendent" and that he was suited for Transcendence. Sir Rekon of the Order of the Dragon Shield made a pledge to fight all demonic evil. Inquisitor Rifkinn praised those who prayed and meditated, holding true to the Immortals. One man in particular had a striking tale to share. I will refer to him only as the Scholar for now, as he has no recollection of his given name. As he stepped forward, I was shocked at the state of his health. His face was covered in gouges, barely healed, one eye missing under a triple line of claw marks across his brow and cheek. His right hand was covered in blisters, and black rot marred the veins of his forearm. In a city with such a prominent Empath guild as ours, such grievous wounds are rare. He said he'd been released to speak of his experiences, and I quote him here verbatim: "My recollection is fuzzy. The battle was not merely physical. I've only imprints of what transpired, what we accomplished and lost and what was done to us. Osven tasked us with securing the lands around the Fortress. Another team was fighting elsewhere. We were given weapons and protections, and the assurance that they would not be enough. We knew what we had to do. Her creatures were waiting. They were enraged, emboldened, and numerous, but predictable. We'd dealt with them before, though we knew the risks. Then there was something else. Three limbed and five eyed, she was impossibly fast and she was in our minds. We struck at nothing, we were torn by her will, and she toyed with us, laughing. I will never forget the sensation as she peeled my mind apart. We are but playthings to them. I crumbled beneath her and she did this to me, she killed my friends. She showed me everything, all that they are, and all that they will be. I recovered in a dungeon, the Temple having found me in the wreckage. They didn't tell me what had occurred, but I knew. Osven was dead. My friends were gone. My life shattered against that monster." Later he would clarify that he survived by mere chance, "knocked beneath some kind of wreckage." He also explained that he was a Necromancer under Osven, which was why his wounds remained: Empaths cannot not touch him. He mentioned that he was using herbs to heal himself slowly. Yvela provided him with a name: Sivroch. He instantly recalled it and said that the creature who attacked him was this Sivroch. Yvela said, "She was among Osven's enemies. She is, for lack of a better description, high priestess of various demons. Osven described her as incredibly dangerous. She takes the demon's will upon herself and forms her body into twisted shapes. She serves under Jeihrem's command, as far as I know. She answers his call, at the very least. Perhaps only when it also serves her purposes." The Scholar added, "She moved through Maelshyve's creatures as though they were of her own. They flowed around her, familiar. But she was more than they were, much more." Lagu joined with information from his Moon Mage gifts: "Those of us who study the stars have seen visions of [Sivroch] in recent months. She was screaming… A three-armed woman with five eyes and broken wings, shuddering in agony, vomiting blue ichor. She said, 'More than we anticipated. We did not know.' Then the screaming began." The Scholar replied that he was told that her supplication would lead her to suffer when the devices were activated. So, this Sivroch is a creature of great power, with the ability to sear the mind and destroy memory, and she serves the Lich. But she can be wounded. Finally, it may interest you to know that the Scholar also said that, though formerly a Necromancer, he has awakened to the light of the Immortals, and the Temple cares for him. He said, "I hope to seek Them once more. Only in Their light do I find moments of respite." For the sake of his soul, I hope They receive him. If They do, it would provide an example to all Necromancers: turn to the gods, and you may yet find forgiveness and grace. For the future, we must learn more of this Sivroch and the "Others," as they are called, other demons who may yet threaten us. We must research whatever we can of the planes, and of demon hunting, to protect our own. And, too, the Anduwen Watch calls for the restoration of the Zaulfung. Although it may take centuries, we must begin to heal what was corrupted, and seal whatever hole may remain there. It's time to begin moving again. In solemnity and solidarity, Navesi Daerthon True Bard, Zoluren's Herald Editor in Chief of the First Land Herald Postscript. I present here the lyrics of the song I performed at the ceremony. Ode to Osven, by Navesi Daerthon Our noble holy leaders are immutable: Necromancy is heresy, the greatest sin. Even if our gods are not entirely scrutable, it is clear that Their will is herein. I am the first to declare my hate for them and their kind, those men of blood and bone, yet I have for you a tale to relate which I use to enlighten, not condone. I met a Necromancer who came from obscurity, who, invisible, dipped into our affairs, who would have claimed our own immaturity was the reason for his veiled cares. Certainly he was in some ways like all the rest, I did not get the chance to know him well, but in one way his difference was manifest: his battle against the darkest forces of hell. He delved into the most foul of arts, he snipped and scissored, knifed his way ahead, gathered up countless rigored body parts, and upon the flesh of innocents he fed. But from his unholy education came the vials — those potent brews of vital unmaking. Only through him, despite all our denials, could we succeed in our most crucial undertaking. With his help, Ciriasa the vessel was felled. His alchemy annihilated the demon's connection. From her Human body Maelshyve was expelled and we were spared total, absolute subjection. But this was not the last of what he would do. Unseen, he stole Ciriasa's cadaver away, and by his sickening practice, used her tissue to understand the demon's passageway. He undertook a total planar evaluation, learned how she bled into our Abiding plane. He devised a method for her complete purgation, to reassert that this was our domain. He called his device the Philosopher's Knot, an Arcane creation which by its design would transform us into planonauts, blasting through her in a blazing line. We entered her soul with a dizzying landfall, surrounded by foreign rules, ahead a vast, uncanny, repulsive sprawl, everything changed, down to molecules. With his device our line punched through her, the Abiding forcing to her core, and slowly, slowly we began to undo her, in an excruciating war. Though he asked for blood and blackest power, and the bile rose in our throats, we were winning, hour by hour, his knowledge the antidote. And finally the moment came, the climax, the device activated at last. But her ichor surged, and with great cracks, it broke, useless, our hopes outcast. Yet, in that moment, Osven soared. With his knife, his vial, his blood and soul, somehow, impossibly, the device was restored. And he was consumed whole. I can still hear his screams, when I lie at night, And, too, they are trapped within the device. I can't quite believe he made things right, can't deny he paid the ultimate price. Yes, he was vile and his soul lost, yet he chose his path, he told me, out of need, the only way to fight was to pay this cost to find the weakness of the Centipede. I can't say that I believe his explanation, and I urge you not to follow his ways, yet we've found our fell salvation, and I'll be grateful for all of my days.

Real Date: Unknown Date

Subject(s):

Author(s): Navesi