Werew0lf 12072 Share Posted January 25, 2023 ‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒ THE OMNIPOTENT SHACKLES OF GODHOOD DRINK THE GODS ICHOR AND BECOME US ‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒ DUBH AINMHI. AWAKEN. The dread oracle would find herself awakening in a bath of sweat and tears, drooling across her body. She kept afloat on a singular pillar of brimstone, whereby a large creature loomed in the distance. It felt like death and doom. Plucked feathers rained down from above, drenched in foul and rotten blood; a trickling rainstorm bearing the curse of the omen-god. From the ash of this mysterious world, the Owl appeared in front of her. On his body, there were puncture wounds from numerous weapons, some that opened his ribcage like a spread platter, decorated by viscera. Unlike his appearance in the mortal world, the Wise Lord had dark eyes without irises. Surrounded by the horrendous demons of Ifrit, all encompassing blobs of dark mass, blinking eyes that replaced the stars of the night sky. HELP THE FOUR BROTHERS. AND DRINK THE BLOOD OF A GOD. Yale-blue mist conjured a chalice of silver, with a golden-liquid inside; the blood of the omen-god himself. It was readily out for the dread-oracle to drink, should she choose to do so. A task of ascension, to elevate the oracle to ‘godhood’, as those presumptuous Djinn called it. As the passing seconds flew by, the world began to crumble like sand in an hourglass. However, the omen-god continued his tame yet vague words. FORGE THE OMNIPOTENT SHACKLES. ASCEND. The injured Owl disappeared into the mist of the dark-realm, to await the success or failure of his chosen one. A silent toot echoed into the faint distance; the oracle would awaken for a second time, finding a cursed staff in her lap. OOC: Spoiler This is a roleplay post that should not be metagamed. It is directed to the specific player for their Demi-Djinn trials.@thequeennadine 18 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
thequeennadine 312 Share Posted January 25, 2023 ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ [!] The stagnant air of a sequestered library is once again shattered by its Oracle's stirrings. Collapsed on the floor beside one of its dusty stacks, she startles and feels a hand out through the dark. Soon enough that sight beyond sight returns itself to her, revealing the room to her with a crisp clarity. The staff at her lap shifts and warps, floating itself into the air. There it hovers, waiting. The purpose of this centennial's upward climb had revealed itself. She need only grasp it. [!] ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 12 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
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