Journal #49: The Dark Spire [Text Roleplay]

One of the first things that struck Celuriel - after they'd clambered out of the river and thoroughly examined the beach - was how cold the Boneyard was. She could see black sand - could feel it shifting under her feet like a living thing - and dark skies that stretched on endlessly above the shadowy waters of the Styx, but neither really struck her quite as much as the cold that seemed to claw at her veins in an altogether too familiar gesture. A shiver ran through her as she stepped closer to Aniks - who, here, felt like a beacon of warmth. "your lady lives in winter," she commented, peering around at the expanse of greyish-dark. Jutting tombstones teased the edge of the horizon, like great teeth poised to consume those who drew near. He would be safe among them - he was Her champion - but their sight sent a thrill of uncertainty down her spine. In the distance, Pharasma's Spire stood watch. They had to go there; she knew that much. Whether it would be as easy to exit as it had been to enter, she was unsure. This was no longer ground she knew well, and the symbol on her wrist tingled unpleasantly. "are we going to your appointment?"
 
Cold, it was the first thing he noticed climbing out of the river Styx. Aniks hated the cold, or atleast being cold. It brought up rough memories from his early life on the surfaces. While a part of his mind would have found the surroundings interesting, especially the black sand. The stream of thoughts were broken and crumbled into the back of his mind by the smaller elf brushing up against him. With his thought a bit more clear he realised just how cold he was. Which probably meant Celuriel was as cold. Aniks paused pulling her in close as a minute of silence. "I can fix wet clothes, the cold well..." His golden eyes fixed on the looming dark tower which stood out grey amd black landscape. Three times he'd been in that tower, and a fourth time would happen before the end of the night. "Do we have a choice?" Aniks said with a half smile, trying to put Celuriel at ease.

She stared at him blankly at the question, her brows furrowing into the makings of a frown. "not really." Without waiting for him to start trying to make them more comfortable with magic, she pulled away from him, taking the first steps towards the gravestones before spinning around and giving him an expectant look. She had been patient for centuries. This was not a time for more patience.
 
It seemed that the plane's denizens agreed. She barely flinched at the sound of wings behind her, but didn't dare look. She knew the precarious nature of her standing here well enough to avoid the confrontation, instead falling into a tense silence, her golden eyes fixed on Aniks's. If he didn't know her so well, she might have been able to hide the glint of nervousness lurking within her heart.
 
The new figure was skeletal - perhaps unsurprisingly - and as black as the sands beneath their feet. A skeletal bird's mask decorated where a face might have sat, had it been mortal, and ragged black wings of raven's feathers wrapped around it as a cloak. A scythe - glimmering the distinctive blue-green of adamantine in the faint light, and bearing a number of symbols unrecognisable by mortal eyes - rested loosely at its side, clutched in one bony hand. It didn't comment on the former vampire before it, instead focusing on the Champion. When it spoke, its voice was hollow - echoing across the river and cutting sharply into space. "Tʜᴇ Lᴀᴅʏ ʜᴀs ᴄᴀʟʟᴇᴅ Yᴏᴜ. Yᴏᴜ ᴡɪʟʟ Cᴏᴍᴇ."
 
At the appearance of this being clad in black feathers, Aniks face lost what gentle features he had. His golden eye narrowed almost erasing all trance of barkeep from his appearance. From his glare right down to his posture, it showed that he was a dark elf. With silent footsteps he walked next to Celuriel. Golden eyes only flicking back to her once notice the look she gave him. Aniks would have been a fool if he had forgotten his first experience in The Boneyard. Something he wasn't willing to relive again. Now being keenly aware of where Silver was strapped to his belt, the blade felt have against his side. Being that Celuriel knew Aniks as well, what he said was as much for her as it was for him. His lips barely moved as he whispered to Celu in elven "We'll be fine"
 
Then he spoke to what was he hoped was a psychopomp sent by the Pharasma. "Are you an escort for us? Or are you just a messenger to guide us on the correct path to Pharasma." Aniks made sure to stress the 'us' part while speaking to the Scythe wielder reaper. He had wanted to talk to Pharasma, as some of what the fallen gods said disturbed him. Some questions he knew he had would not get a clear answer from her, but still his question would be told to the Mother of souls herself. The most pressing being why bring Aniks here now, they were going after shards? So what was this all about?

Celu's expression didn't flicker as the creature behind her moved, its tattered wings disturbing the cool air. It stepped - or perhaps floated - forward, tilting the bony mask in a manner reminiscent of morbid curiosity.
"Mᴏʀᴛᴀʟ ǫᴜᴇsᴛɪᴏɴs ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛʟᴇss ᴀɴsᴡᴇʀs. Yᴏᴜ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ. Tʜᴇ Lᴀᴅʏ ʜᴏʟᴅs ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀʀᴅs." The scythe's metal shone silver in the Boneyard's odd light as the psychopomp raised it, and Celuriel couldn't entirely hide her flinch as the blade carved down through the heavy air. Its path left a spiralling trail of deep-blue magic in its path, the edges flaring white.
 
The colours hung in the sky for a long moment, iridescent and shifting. The psychopomp observed it with the detached calmness that belonged to his kin, and touched them. The change was instant: from its bony fingers erupted a stream of darkness, eroding the blue into a spectrum of colours and shapes. Eroding it into an image - still or otherwise, it wasn't clear - of an ebony hallway carved of dark marble and lit with faint flickering light. The psychopomp stared expectantly at Aniks.
 
"Yᴏᴜ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴀɴsᴡᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇʀ."
 
Aniks couldn't help but have a slight look of annoyance. "Sorry my mortality creates pointless questions" his voice was laced in sarcasms. The golden eyed drow gave Celuriel the same look she had given him early, and expectant look. Making it very clear, as Celu said before jumping into the murky water with him, not alone.
 
Celu nodded almost imperceptibly to him, slowly - and with no small amount of caution - stepping back to his side. She seemed reluctant to look at the psychopomp, her gaze instead fixed on Aniks.
 
The psychopomp waited.
 
The pair passed through the scythe made portal, stepping on the black marble floor. Needless to say his breath is held as they past by the psychopomp.
 
Thankfully, it did not follow. Small comforts. The new hallway was - to Celuriel - somehow icier than the exposed sandy banks of the Styx, evoking an involuntary gasp at the chill clawing at her skin. Strangely, Aniks did not feel the same level of coldness - to him, the new surroundings were a welcome break from the familiar chills of outside.
 
There were two directions to this hallway. To their left, a gridded portcullis of blackened steel stood its ground. The winch with which they could raise it sat unguarded on the wall beside it, the dim light of the moon outlining it in white. Untouched. Celu stared at it in contemplation. To the right, a set of smooth black doors decorated with a familiar blue-white spiral hung ever-so-slightly open.
 
Without so much as a word, Aniks casted Prestidigitation on Celu then on himself. The ebony elf then took a look at both paths, he felt like the portcullis was likely and exit. He half expected if that was true, he would be meet with more Psychopomps. That would give the same Go-See-Phrasama response. So he apporched the spiral door. Originally he hadn't noticed it being slightly open, but Aniks being Aniks after a second carefully openes the door.
 
Unlike the last time he'd been given the opportunity to wander the Spire, this doorway didn't lead Aniks (and his shivering partner) to the Eight Doorways. Thankfully. Instead, he found himself standing at the edge of a small courtyard garden filled with strange fruits, flowers, and animals that seemed to fit perfectly into the odd realm. A familiar smooth staircase wound its way around the edge of the courtyard, its lowest step resting next to a small pond. Celu found herself seizing Aniks's hand as her eyes landed on the only other humanoid inhabitant of this ethereal garden.
 
He was male, and he was human - in appearance, at least. His eyes were dark and sunken, and roses decorated his blackened hair. Whilst a rusted sword hung at his waist and a stain of bloody red dripped from his stomach, he paid no attention to either, instead focusing largely on his apparent task of picking fruits from the garden's trees. Once his basket was full, he turned to greet them with a gentle smile. "You'd be Her champion and... my apologies for the assumption, but would this soul be your consort? Welcome to a fragment of the Garden Anima, though I sense your stay is brief. Has She called you both?"
 
"She has" Aniks said before moving into the garden. " Excuse my ignorance thought I have plenty of questions, the most pressing I am unaware of how to reach her."
 
"This isn't your first visit?" asked the stranger with an amused smile. "No, no, I know it's not. Your group are noisy, and I know the Herald is looking forward to your return. Our Lady can be found up the stairs - though the chill surrounding your consort suggests that she might find it more comfortable to await your return here." He surveyed the two with an oddly penetrating look, his gaze lingering on the slight tint of blue that Celuriel had been trying to conceal with her dark hair. "I can't tell you if that's caused by her fey nature, the lingering claws of undeath, or simply the Lady wishing to speak with you alone first, but I can share that it'll only worsen if you reach the Spire's summit together."
 
"It's not..."Aniks mood slightly soured. The Herald looking forward to his arrival was concerning, mainly because of there first talk went terrible. Aniks still didn't regret what he had said to the Herald of Pharasma he felt like it was justifiable. With a clearly false smile "That's wonderful, I can only imagen what Pharasma's Herald wants" Then Aniks turned Celu he squeezed her hand slightly tighter "As much as I want you to be there with me..."
 
The man grinned light-heartedly at his response, very obviously recognising the disdain, but fell silent to allow the young couple their moment. After all, there were many flowers blooming in the garden and he was the one who could tend to them.
 
Celu glared up at Aniks. "you're not leaving me here for long." It wasn't a question - she didn't care if he had to defy a goddess, she wasn't letting him out of her sight for that long. Not after what he'd done last time.
 
"I won't..." Aniks said pulling her into a hug, this was clearly for him. It was probably a bit longer than it should have been. He was worried, Pharasma as of late was starting to unnerve him. At first she was just another god, but now he wasn't so sure. Aniks pulled away leaving her with a white leather jacket around her shoulders he had bought for the snowy countries. However he didn't feel cold. "Please stay warm" then went to the stairs, to find the Mother of Souls. He calmed himself trying to clear his thoughts and mostly his worries about what was going to happen when he saw Pharasma again.
 
"if you stay safe," Celu whispered in return, reluctantly letting Aniks leave and slipping on his jacket. A comforting hand landed on her shoulder as she watched him ascend the staircase.
 
"He'll be safe with my Lady. Now, yours is a life ended and renewed. Whilst they have their chat, why don't we talk for a while?" suggested the stranger, gently guiding Celuriel to a park bench as Aniks disappeared from ear- and eye-shot.
 
Meanwhile, the Champion in question found himself climbing a near-endless staircase. Occasionally, other figures - strange psychopomps with forms ranging from stunningly beautiful to aberrant and grotesque - would pass him, never saying a word. Unlike his first visit, nobody stopped his ascent. Eventually, after what felt like hours of climbing, he reached a set of white marble gates that seemed to glimmer in the starlight pouring in from pale arches around the tower he now found himself in. A familiar angel-like figure stood waiting, shooting him a wordless look of annoyance before pushing the gates open and striding in, clearly expecting him to follow.
 
Even to Aniks, the architecture was gorgeous, and this was the same Dark Elf who has only really consider the two women in his life to be gorgeous. It was more that the barkeep was trying to pay attention to things like that. It was an attempt to chill his nerves. He thought slightly on the psychopomps, if being Pharasma's Champion turn him into one. He would very much was to keep his body looking normal-ish. Especially after seeing some of the odder looking... he stop that line of thoughts, it wasn't going to help him now. His mind was silent till he was the Steward of Skien. Aniks returned the look of annoyances with his own. He thought he would have added a sarcastic bow, one that meant for nobles I am displeased that we have to speak again "A better welcoming than last time I suppose, I swear she would not be happy with me, unless I took out all the Undead in existence." he whispered to no-one impractical. Following in the same determined pace as when he departed from Celu.
 
"Even then," came the sharply hissed reply from the woman ahead of him, carrying back to his ears as he stepped onto the familiar dark marble floor of Pharasma's throne room. The foreboding presence of his Lady was immediately apparent, pressing at the corners of his vision with all the strength of true divine power. Ahead of him, the Steward stepped forward and sunk to her knees, her steely wings folding in deference. "Your Champion, my Lady."
 
She didn't need to say a word. Aniks felt the compulsion to step forward, to kneel before the woman he could now find the ability to look at. If the psychopomps he'd seen before had been beautiful, they paled in comparison to Pharasma. White hair and expressionless pale eyes paired themselves with silver skin and sleek robes trimmed in red, and as her gaze fell upon him, he could feel the full weight of the burden she'd laid upon them three years prior. Could feel the full weight of all that he held around his soul, for good and bad. She seemed to be waiting for him to speak; to kneel.
 
A small smile came from the drow, he had gotten her. It was surprisingly easier than he thought. The smile was short lived as he enter the final room. He took a second he they entered the throne, something was off. Everything looked normal so what was it. He stood next to the Armored Psychopomp and kneeled. As much as he hated that, Pharasma of all the beings in the world, desevered respect. Plus agrueing over whether he should kneel or not was not something he wanted to deal with. Then Aniks released what was off, he has seen Pharasma. He could look at her, the compusion to not look at her was gone. He still remained looking down at the black marble floor. Last time he stood not to far from this spot when he was in this throne room."Was there something you wished to bring to my attention?"
 
The temperature in the room palpably dropped. The Lady of Graves needed to say nothing to indicate her disapproval at his demeanour. "Steward, leave us." The words had barely left her mouth before the steel-clad angel had vanished - teleporting to some other part of Pharasma's domain, most likely. The room hung silent in anticipation of the Lady's speech and instead echoed with the click of heels against marble; a sound that stopped much closer to where Aniks knelt.
 
"Not many would dare bring a guest to the realm of death. Yet my champion thought it his right. Not many would actively seek return here, either, in the face of their procrastination." They both knew she didn't refer to anything recent. "Three years have passed whilst you dwelt in a shard's embrace. Three years of increasing danger. Though you grow stronger, you yet fail to impress." She let the words stand in the air, her disappointment illustrated in the pressure exerted through her sheer power.
 
"I would not have selected you had I not seen more worth in you. You shall learn, and when your learning is complete - and only then - you shall return to the Material Plane."
 
With that Aniks was back to normal. Well as normal as one could be infront of the Goddess of Death. In truth Aniks had thought this might be a reason for her calling, infact he was slightly hoping for something like that. It just happened a lot sooner than he had thought it would. However this learning was not what removed his nerves for this meeting. It was the comment about bringing guest, that had snapped him back to into a more familiar version of himself.
 
"-as long these people in the other room are Champion's I will do my hardest to keep them out of harms way." He repeated from their first conversation privately, where Pharasma spoke through Celuriel (He never did get a proper explaination as to how she did that.) Then for the first time Aniks choose to look at Pharasma. His golden eye beamed with determination. "My stance has not change champion or not. I brought her because I do not want Celuriel to be in the Material Plane to have her kidnapped by her sister while I am here studing here in The Boneyard. While she is here, she more safe from her sister. As safe as she can be that is, I would not have to worry about her as much. I never thought it was right or wrong, I just wish for her to be safe."

Aniks dropped his head back to the black marble floor. It was cool to the touch, however that might be just Pharasma's presence dropping the temperature. Aniks paused before speaking again. "This training, will it be similar to that a Psychopomps as well as more than general knowledge on how to be your champion?"
 
"It was not unexpected that you would bring your consort. You would be wise to assume other beings will not tolerate unexpected appearances so well." Pharasma's eyes shone white in the pale light of her throne room, emotionless and cold as Aniks made his plea. She was not one so easily impressed, nor one who would bother wasting time on pointless words. "Mrtyu, or another of the ushers, shall ensure her safety when you are otherwise occupied."
 
As Aniks knelt, he felt the whisper of wind against his skin as the Lady of Graves returned to her throne. "To train you as a psychopomp would be to relieve you of your status. Your soul is not yet ready for judgement. You will be trained as a Champion. My herald will assist in martial matters. The psychopomps will guide you through understanding the River. When you are ready, you shall learn judgement." She didn't need to explain how he'd learn that. It wasn't something you could write down. "I grant you this opportunity to ask questions of your goddess. When they are done, and whether answered or not, you will find guidance past the doors."
 
" Thank you" Aniks said he meant it as well. Then the idea of Her Herald teaching anything martial made Aniks loose the slight smile he had. Of Course thats why Steward of Skein was looking forward his return. He could almost feel the pain in his near future. He tossed that painful thought aways. Question Pharasma? He had already gotten the information about being trained. His soul, how to fix it was something he would like to know. If she knew about the fall? So many things." As much as I would wish to ask you plenty of questions , I will limit myself to three. Is there a way to fix my soul here in Boneyard?"
 
It was a long moment before Pharasma spoke, and her words were chosen with deliberate care when she finally did. "You will better understand the answer to that when you have come to know the River, and the way a soul is formed. Souls are capable of much change in their existence. To damage a soul, in mortal terms, would most often refer to the influence of negative energy - such as that used in undeath. This can be undone." Aniks felt a sudden chill as her gaze turned piercing - even without meeting the gaze, it felt like somebody was staring through him at all he hid, at all he held dear. The cold was icy, and yet unfamiliar.
 
"You, however, were led to a place where causality and reality fell thin. Your soul remains confused by the journey, recognising that it should both be present in this realm and that of mortals. It leaves whispering imprints upon the fabric of fate where you might walk. It is a complex form of damage. The Boneyard has methods of repairing it. They will not be used until your mortal path ends."
 
" Something to deal with at a later date then..." Aniks said more to himself then to the Goddess of Death.There was a slight pause before the second question"Cayden and Iomedae said something after their fall, you might have already know that this was going to happen? Is this true?"
 
This answer came noticeably quicker. There was no doubt that she hadn't guessed this question would come. "The pathways of fate are not unknown to my sight. Mortal decisions shape them, ever-changing. I knew of the chance. There were far worse outcomes avoided." After a brief pause to allow him to think on the ramifications of that, she continued. "Some pathways now lead you to question my decision of not sending out a warning. Fate wanders where it will. Interference is unnecessary and unwanted."
 
Remaining silent he thought on that. It was about the answer he thought he would receive. " I would be lying if that was not my first thought. However I choose not to think to long on that, you have reasons for what you do. Though you might have seen this question coming, why choose me? You have been interested in me for a while, from what I know of you your very... distant when it come to mortal affairs"
 
"That is not an answer you will be able to understand. You are mortal. Though you possess strong intellect, you know little. To explain the myriad of reasons to a mortal would take longer than they have - and they would, in the end, still fail to comprehend." She didn't say it unkindly. Nor did the question surprise her, from the continued evenness of her tone of voice. "But let it not be said that there was no attempt made. You walk through dangerous times. War lingers on all horizons. Entities beyond your ken seek to intervene, seeking perversion of what should be amongst countless other goals. I selected what would best serve my interests, regardless of your own comprehension. Do not waste too much time thinking of 'why'. You are Death's champion. Time is not yours to waste."
 
The dark elf was unsure how to feel about this. It was, again, the answer he knew he would get. The grand game of gods was often played with that. However it was not useless questions. Aniks thought it would be possible he could ask other questions before this training was over. Just not now. "Then I will keep this in mind on the trails ahead. Thank you for answering my questions, though I might have others they can wait for another time. If you have nothing else you wish to tell me, I have used my three question so I will now leave you to your work." Aniks stood and gave the Goddess of Death a bow, a respectful one. He stood there to see if he would be dismissed behind those doors. Where Pharasma said there would be guidance.
 
"...You shall not delay. May your training be well, Champion." A slight gesture towards the doors had them flung open to reveal the waiting form of her Steward, one hand already resting on the blade at her hip.
 
The door was shut and no click was heard. Yet Aniks knew that trying open the door was a useless effort. The steward was near. His hip felt a bit heavy as Silver sat in silence as he caught sight of the sword. Had she had it before? No he would have noticed. Though it was just as likely she went to pick the blade up. Aniks that might have been the case, this kind of training wasn't the pratice you'd get in the inner planes. "We are not even going to be close to acquaintances, by the end of this. However we could be civil about this..." he made a gesture with one hand to the room around them. "Well as civil as one could be when you know your lose terribly."
 
Any emotion behind the steward's gaze was impossible to discern, made that way likely intentionally by her shadowed helmet. "Your shortcomings are already well-known." It wasn't a kind response; more one that held an edge - and it was swiftly followed by a sharp blow via her wing, intended to knock Aniks to the floor (DC25 reflex save). "Your constitution is frail. Your strength is lacking. You hold emotions that swell to irrationality. I am led to believe that your power lies in magic and skill. You will prove so before we talk."
 
Behind her, a stairway swung into motion, its guardrails connecting to the dark floor on which they stood with a hollow ringing sound. Not waiting to see whether Aniks had taken her blow well, the Steward strode down them, fully expecting him to follow.
 
Aniks might have thought how the Steward wing's were way harder than he thought it would be. However as he was now staring at a marble floor. His thoughts leaned more on 'no I was right, we're going to hate each other.' He brought himself up from the cool black marble floor. He remained silent as talking was clearly the wrong thing to do. So he followed, keeping the personal thoughts to himself. As if he said anything , it would be labeled as an excuse and so far this was nothing.