Ajora Glabados (npc) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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concordance_logs2015-03-17 09:19 pm
blessedsaint) wrote in concordance_logs2015-03-17 09:19 pm
Entry tags:
[locked to Rasler]
Characters: Rasler, Ultima/Ajora
Where: Hall of the Wroth God, Sochen Cave Palace, Archadia
When: Just before break of dawn, 17 Skyfrost*, 710 Old Valendian
What: Restoring a part of the line of Raithwall, bringing a prince back to life.
Warnings: Ultima. Necromancy. Possibly swearing.
*Skyfrost = March
Deep within the bowels of the Archadian Empire, it sits: the Sochen Cave Palace. A palace perhaps in one age long passed into history. Now it sits nestled beneath the grassy lands outside the capital, dark and damp, a haven for undead and dullahans. Whoever once occupied this abandoned complex has been forgotten. The occasional traveler or passing adventurer are the only souls who pass through this rabbit hole, this back door into the slums of Archadia.
The sun hovers just below the horizon outside, waiting to crest that line and begin the slow crawl into the heavens. It matters not, as no light penetrates this deep within the earth. Ivalice sleeps, waiting to wake to the new day, unaware that rebelling power is at work.
In the deep dark, there stands a figure, clad in black and hooded against sight, though none are present to witness nor is there light to aid in vision. Here he stands, a mere vessel and nothing more to the great light of the High Seraph. In obedience to Her will, he relinquishes his body for her manifestation.
There is a burst of holy light, banishing the dark, and bathing this lonely place with Her glory. Wings of red and gold shimmer brightly against the black which is nothing to her brilliance.
Once again, she moves against the gods, raising her defiance high and stealing away one given into the hands of death. The holy scion plunges deep into the nether and grasps hold of her next chosen. One whose resurrection will serve her purposes in this next life. A prince, a spare, who perished to his own rash rush for revenge. The gods used his image to spurn on his widow, to control her. Now Ultima moves against them and their purposes by stealing him from death's cruel grasp.
On the cold cave floor, the blood seraph's work is made flesh. His spirit hovers over the ground as she knits together a physical form to hold it. A simple Hume body, no longer pierced by a too accurate arrow in the heart, but with a scar to mark what simple tool ended his life. Releasing a blast of holy power, she integrates the spirit with the body, waiting for his first breath.
"Your throne is broken and empty; Ashelia awaits you."
Where: Hall of the Wroth God, Sochen Cave Palace, Archadia
When: Just before break of dawn, 17 Skyfrost*, 710 Old Valendian
What: Restoring a part of the line of Raithwall, bringing a prince back to life.
Warnings: Ultima. Necromancy. Possibly swearing.
*Skyfrost = March
Deep within the bowels of the Archadian Empire, it sits: the Sochen Cave Palace. A palace perhaps in one age long passed into history. Now it sits nestled beneath the grassy lands outside the capital, dark and damp, a haven for undead and dullahans. Whoever once occupied this abandoned complex has been forgotten. The occasional traveler or passing adventurer are the only souls who pass through this rabbit hole, this back door into the slums of Archadia.
The sun hovers just below the horizon outside, waiting to crest that line and begin the slow crawl into the heavens. It matters not, as no light penetrates this deep within the earth. Ivalice sleeps, waiting to wake to the new day, unaware that rebelling power is at work.
In the deep dark, there stands a figure, clad in black and hooded against sight, though none are present to witness nor is there light to aid in vision. Here he stands, a mere vessel and nothing more to the great light of the High Seraph. In obedience to Her will, he relinquishes his body for her manifestation.
There is a burst of holy light, banishing the dark, and bathing this lonely place with Her glory. Wings of red and gold shimmer brightly against the black which is nothing to her brilliance.
Once again, she moves against the gods, raising her defiance high and stealing away one given into the hands of death. The holy scion plunges deep into the nether and grasps hold of her next chosen. One whose resurrection will serve her purposes in this next life. A prince, a spare, who perished to his own rash rush for revenge. The gods used his image to spurn on his widow, to control her. Now Ultima moves against them and their purposes by stealing him from death's cruel grasp.
On the cold cave floor, the blood seraph's work is made flesh. His spirit hovers over the ground as she knits together a physical form to hold it. A simple Hume body, no longer pierced by a too accurate arrow in the heart, but with a scar to mark what simple tool ended his life. Releasing a blast of holy power, she integrates the spirit with the body, waiting for his first breath.
"Your throne is broken and empty; Ashelia awaits you."