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DANZEN’S INFERNO An Account of Otherworldly Expedition 3 Mensis Tobialis, 2A 131 I am a religious man. Like my brother Lectors before me, I have always strived to maintain my virtue and to spread the word of KAMISAMA to the most desolate of lands. For decades I thrived with the purpose given to me - to lead my brothers and to collect knowledge. The Lectors and I spread what we had learned, and the world was changed for the better, or for worse. Regardless, many of my comrades perished or faded into obscurity. When the Lectors officially dissolved, my purpose became but a leaf drifting in the wind. In the years following the dissolution, I became isolated. I had witnessed a lifetime’s worth of acquaintances turn to vice, and I had lost faith in my fellow man. I reached the conclusion that the maintenance of one’s own virtue was more valuable than extending a helping hand. I had incorrectly believed that participation in ANYTHING would benefit some greater evil. Fate is gravity. Even though we may leap towards the heavens, we are ultimately pulled back towards the earth. The thread of fate is no different; we may try to defy it, but our end remains the absolute end. Only KAMISAMA possesses the foresight to truly understand predestination. Despite this, a year or so ago this day a being from the stars delivered unto me the means to continue the greater quest of the Lectorate - the acquisition of knowledge. Though not an Aengul, this being spoke truly and harshly. I longed for purpose, yet rejected the calls of others. In my hubris, I had believed that I already understood my fate and destiny - but with this simple fraying of the thread, my future was changed forever. With a coin toss and a thunderous crack, I was home no longer. Though I now know it to be an instant, this single step felt like days. I awoke upon a jagged outcrop; the skies were black as ash and the air lingered with an acrid scent - brimstone. Where had I gone, and how could I return? Seeking these answers and believing that height would grant a vantage point, I ventured forth towards a range of hills possessing many holes through a lowland of crimson bones. Smoke billowed from natural vents and, as I approached, I could see what appeared to be men. Yet, they stood still - ever so still. Ever closer, I came to know why they were as stone. Bound in chains, these desolate souls were pinned to a Lorraine and weeping in agony. Besides them, yokai howled and cackled with madness as they peeled flesh and crackled bones. I can only speculate as to the severity and length to which they suffered. I squatted in prayer, and to plan. Yet, as if cosmically aligned, my presence seemed to coincide with the awakening of the hills. Their pits no longer belched ash, but instead were adorned with the glow of a thousand red eyes. In but an instant the skies were swallowed by a sea of beasts who swept down and devoured the offerings. At that moment I had realized why the valley was littered with the remains of thousands. Caught amidst a feeding frenzy, I buried myself in the surrounding carnage as horrid screeches resonated throughout the land. Those who had perished before me likely had loved ones, and no doubt possessed dreams. An entire lifetime snuffed as it became equivalent in worth to a slab of grit tossed to a hound. They suffered in life, but what is suffering? Is it pain, or perhaps loneliness? Is it the dread of anticipation? I believe that suffering is life itself, and all the obstacles that one bumps into before the sweet ascent to the Skies; such was the miracle of Owyn’s Penance. It is for this reason, in death, those men did not suffer. After what felt like eternity, I emerged from my self-made coffin. The beasts had gone, and all that remained of the fallen was yet more bone for the field. I diverted course and now ventured forth towards the sound of flowing water. By the grace of KAMISAMA I had found it and, parched beyond comprehension, began to suckle at an ice-cold stream. A mistake for as soon as I felt respite, I had drifted to the realm of the subconscious. Upon awakening I reached the dreaded realization that my belongings had been severed from my person. After a brief search, there was but a singular explanation: I had been the victim of theft. Determined to find this thief, I followed the water’s edge, my visage adorned with my men-yoroi to hide my human nature. In time I came across a silhouette slithering through the depths - a yokai. It looked like a scorpion, albeit made of wax, and in one hand it bore a lantern of a chilling blue flame. Its stinger whipped about in the water as it emerged to the shore. Gazing down upon me it spoke: “Yours is not like the others… You were robbed by an Imp of Nem - a foul creature... I saw, but could not move. You arise in the Still of Judgement to cross my River, wherefore?” Though hesitant, I could not afford to lose this lead. I yielded and conversed briefly with the creature as it ferried me across the frigid waters. It spoke again: “You shall cross into the land of the dead - but know what you walk into. Your punishment is eternal, and it is noble that you walk into it. You are bound for one of the harshest punishments Iblees can bestow. It is a shame you were saved from Heaven.” It queried yet more, unresponsive to my own interrogations. I concluded that the yokai would not answer, yet told it that I was still alive and not a forlorn soul. It replied: “There must be a particular hatred for thee - to be here before death. I would wish you well, but such things are not possible within Drownedreik.” Upon disembarking my head swirled with the dread of Iboku. Had I truly been sent to the bowels of the deceiver’s kingdom? Had I ever truly gone on an adventure, or had I perished in sipping poisoned water? As if compelled, I persisted forth. Perhaps my belongings would confirm as to whether I were a revenant or not. The answer would soon be revealed as I came across a pit of imps. Akin to an Uruk’s camp, these creatures were engorging themselves upon the flesh of fallen men. They cried out for bloodshed and howled with malicious intent as if preparing a warband. Broz'Dak, an Imp who seemed to be their chieftan emerged and addressed his tribe: “BROZ’DAKZ, Mi haz the key to endless klomp! Mi haz key to land of flezh! Zhomo say so, mi bring to lower circle - BUB DEMON. Burzh Soul. Give Broz’Dakz many klomp, many meat! NUB FIGHT UNTIL BROZ’DAK RETURN!” As I listened from afar, I came to realize that this demonic creature of Krug had had on him my belongings; perhaps he sought to bring proof to the Demon he had spoken of. In a bout of good fortune, he left the camp by his lonesome. I followed from afar and, as we moved, I began to collect stones. I dug them into my clothing so that I might become adorned with spikes; such would help with a demonic disguise. Though my memory begins to blur, I recall the Imp coming across a great fortress of blackened stone. Two guards crossed wretched axes and the scamp before me sought to pass. The guards were unmoving and seemingly annoyed with the small creature, though the Imp was insistent on handing over my trinkets. With no time, I was forced to act and mantle the beast I had disguised myself as. As quickly as I emerged from the shadows, the Imp’s neck was crushed. Impressed with the ferocity of the attack, they granted me both passage and the belongings of the Imp. It seemed as if, at least here, the strong would flourish and the weak would crumble. They referred to me as a “Revenant” on account of my white garb. Even though I now had proof for myself that I had not yet been slain, the words of the Demon made me question whether my isolation and sense of superiority made me more akin to them than my fellow man. I wondered why they could not sense my human scent, though my curiosity swiftly faded. My nostrils flared as the horrid stench of souls being prepared for sinister purpose clung to the air. All around me poor beings were being tortured. Limbs were shredded and sewn back together; intestines were slurped like udon; crucifixions were aplenty. Though my script cannot convey the horrid nature of what I bore witness to, it was of such great magnitude that I began to falter in both disguise and confidence. I meandered down the many corridors in a daze. Eventually, a yokai in the form of a boar uncovered my identity - perhaps a demonic aspect of Brother Harold. Understandably it assumed I to be an assassin and he handedly blitzed my person, throwing me through a door wrought of iron. My ribs cracked and all I could do was await recourse as an onyx-figure descended a throne. I had tresspassed farther than I realized. The figure spoke to me: “You have been watched since you first arrived. Do not think yourself clever for fooling the Imps, or the Slaves. You were to be brought to me, and thus it was ordained, and thus you are here . . . We know you. We know your Kind. You know not who I am. I am In-Saabth, master of these wastes. Charged eternal by my mistress, I await her return. The armies grow under me, the flesh-sows bred for one thing . . . Your doom. Surrender to me, and I will use your soul to feed my armies when they march upon your world.” Refusing, I raised my bokken in my left hand defensively as I began to call upon the blessing of Machiman. The figure seemed half-amused by the defiance and it rose a great and bloodied morning-star: “Mmm . . . Before I commend thy soul to Iblees, give me thy name. Realmwalker. Know that you will be honored, immortalized, for the greatness you have given. I give thee human courtesy, do not take it lightly.” I conceded defeat, yet maintained the only defensive posture I could. My blade began to shine with light and I said my name: “I am Ugokoyama Danzen.” In-Saabth accepting this honorable surrender swung down, only to meet the Bulwark of a seasoned Templar. Seemingly taken by surprise, In-Saabth began to cackle with amusement before pressing harder. Too little and too late, my concentration began to fade as my power waned. The mace of the Yokai shattered my feeble wooden blade and smashed into my left forearm, flattening and tearing it clean off. My left eye too could not escape the wrath of the Black Demon. As I barked in agony a second thunderous boom rattled the room. An ample time as any - the last second - ordained by good fortune. Though the shock of a smashed arm soon subsided to agony, those few first moments I had emerged back on our homey with serenity. In-Sabbath was proven incorrect in his proclamation of fate. I write this now as a record of events leading up to my death. At the point of authorship, I had managed to stem the bleeding and pain with my leftover supplies and medical skill. Almaris is abandoned - everywhere I look is empty as I evade the patrols of Juli’el’s Tribe. Felder’s Rock served me as a refuge for these few months - I pray that its magnificence does not fade even after I leave it for good. I can only assume now that my comrades are imprisoned as slaves for the Mori mines, much like I witnessed within Drowned Reik. I returned to Savoy and ventured into the depths. Should my body be found in these caverns, I hope that this account may serve as a warning for the greater cosmic scheme. Then again, mayhaps this will be disregarded as the ramblings of a dreamer. Ugokoyama Danzen Arch-Lector of the Flaming Covenant Cohort, Shugo of Tetsugawa, Templar of Machiman, Practitioner of Shindo no Hamon and Penitent Brother of Owyn. OOC NOTE This is an RP account of a shunt experienced with the feat “Arcane Displacement”. The story and terminology is purposefully misinterpreted per the character’s experience, I.E. mistaking Imps for Goblins or the realm of Draudreich as Drownedreik. Given that this is a private account, it is requested that this information is not metagamed. This is also NOT a PK post, but written as a “what if” scenario had the character Danzen died in the caves between Almaris and Aevos while tailing the descendants. I thank Breeni and Shorsand for acting as my DMs for this shunting experiment.