Mission details here
It was not easy to tell how long Levinia had spent in the hijacked portal, which hurried to some unknown doom, yet for each perceived second that passed, a dark foreboding deepened around her. This was quite unlike how she had expected this story to end: she had thought that by completing the Rectifier’s tasks, defeating the twisted gods and retrieving her long lost right arm, that her problems would have been solved, at least for the time being. The whole ordeal had made her realize that her own people, who had been behind her curse, which was the predicament that had set her on the path to healing and freedom, had also been the ones responsible for inciting the Rectifier against her... or at least, one of them. For one thing, the twisted god she had slain knew her by name, but even if she was somehow famous in many parts that she was unaware of, he possessed a similar magic as hers: Grimoire magic. The little she remembered of the Land of Origin, as she liked to refer to her home world, was that the most powerful of them used that sort of script-territory magic. And from the way the sigils on her severed arm had sprung to life and diverted the course of the space-time portal that bore her away, it was almost a hundred percent certain that they were the ones responsible. Well, she was not going down without a fight. She was no longer the downtrodden, scared, sick, weak child they had treated like refuse. Her time with Beira and in Fiore had taught her that she had some power she could rely on, and she was powerful in her own right.
”79th Miracle Grimoire: Jubilee of Faith!” Levinia intoned, as she cast the beneficial spell on herself, so as to improve her odds in battle, as it was almost doubtless that she would find herself in one, very soon. ”78th Amulet Grimoire: Jubilee of Heroes!” She needed all the advantages she could get, as she was stepping into an utter unknown, and could not be certain of how many foes she would face, or how powerful they were. It was always better to overestimate and enemy, rather than underestimate them. Unless in a fight governed by particular rules, there was hardly any disadvantage in being over-prepared. Still, she was not done. ”77th Palisade Grimoire: Aegis Skin!” Her body was wreathed in white flames, granting her a personal protective layer. Now, she would be able to hit harder, and take a little extra damage, at least for the first few moments of combat. Having thus fortified herself with her arcane abilities, she proceeded to equip herself with physical arms, with which to execute warfare. First, she requipped her Alchemy Armor, then summoned the Ring of Velocity on her finger. Next, she drew out two of her most powerful swords: Nightgleam and the Utagatana. As her body brimmed with energy, she held the Songblade in her hands, while the Nightgleam was wielded by her telekinetic powers.
The edges of the portal began to shimmer, a tell-tale sign that the journey was coming to an end. Levinia took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly, trying to calm herself of the trepidation that filled her heart.
”Alright, let’s do this...”
The portal burst like a bubble, and everything was black. Not dark, but complete blackness. At first, Levinia thought she had been robbed of her sight, but then she noticed, to her surprise, that she couldn’t hear anything, feel anything. Heck, she was not even sure if she was breathing. All she knew was that she existed, and the blackness was all around. She tried flailing her arms, but she could not even sense that she was moving. Reaching out with her mind was also useless, because she couldn’t even sense her weapons, the environment, or even the magic that flowed through her body only moments before. She tried to speak, to scream, to even mutter, but she could not feel that she was opening her mouth, let alone uttering any sound. With everything having failed in such manner, she tried to think. Unfortunately, that too proved abortive, as all she was aware of was the darkness, a murk that clouded even her thoughts, making her incapable of most emotions. She was supposed to be alarmed, terrified, even, but she could not bring herself to even panic. It was like she had been separated from her body, from the rest of the universe, and her consciousness was trapped in this silent, senseless prison, from which she could not even think to escape. To plan ahead was impossible, so all she could do was wait.
Whether it was a second or a month, she could not tell, but the first sense that returned to her was her sense of feeling. Her body felt strangely cold, and she could discern a draft of wind that came every now and again. She tried to move her arms, but she realized they were restrained. And with that understanding came pain. Very likely, her mind was slowly awakening, and could now identify a stimulus that had been there before, but she had been too insensate to notice it. This pain was not like the affliction she had suffered at the hands of the twisted god, who could reach into a person’s nerve centers and draw out extreme pain. Such a pain was pervasive, but it was only perceived. No, this pain was more natural, and while it did not touch all her cells, she could feel it the most in her extremities, even in the stump that remained of her right arm. She felt exhausted, enervated, and her head throbbed like someone had played a percussive number directly on her brain. With some effort, she peeled open an eye. At first, everything was blurry, but eventually began to take shape.
She was in a stone chamber, and the ceiling was lacking, because as she strained her head to look up, she noticed that the sky, a series of blotched overcast clouds, was visible. Then she turned her head to see what was confining her movement. Her eyes came to rest on a long, thin, barbed spike, which protruded from her left hand. Her feet had been skewered in similar manner, and the spikes seemed to be hollow, because they slowly drained out blood from her body. What was left of her right arm had been similarly run through with such a tool, and she suddenly realized that she was stark naked, with only her long hair as some covering for modesty. Her prosthetic arm, along with her clothes, were nowhere to be seen. Her eyes grew wide as she stared at her uncovered form, and then, naturally, she tried to break free. It seemed, however, that she had been thoroughly stripped of whatever granted her magic power, making her as frail as just about any young human woman. She closed her eyes and measured her breathing. Whoever was responsible obviously wanted to strip her of everything, even her dignity. She would not indulge them, or give them any pleasure, by panicking visibly. Bereft of her powers, she might currently be, but her mind was still intact. Her ability to reason was not born of some magical gift; it was her own personal edge. If she could analyze the situation logically, she might find a solution to all this mess.
She looked around again, slowly, this time, focusing first on her restraints. She noticed the black stone-like cuffs that had been clasped around her wrist and ankles. The stones were attached to chains, which were riveted into the stone wall and floor. She was firmly held in place. If she still possessed her physical strength, she might have broken free of her bonds, even if the barbed spikes caused her more injury, but alas, she was powerless. Those black stones looked rather familiar, and she now knew why she had no magical energy at work within her. ”Magic sealing stones, ugh! That explains why I can’t use my magic, but I keep feeling there is something else...” It had always been a topic of research for her, to understand the workings of magic, and how it flowed and empowered those referred to as “mages” from the rest of the common populace. Such power was inherent in special bloodlines, like her own, and without the magic power, such bloodlines failed entirely. There were some few and far between cases, though of creatures who could ignore such sealing stones and use their powers even in the presence of items that would otherwise hinder magic power. Unfortunately for her, she was not among such few. Turning her mind away from prospective topics that right now held only academic virtues, she focused on securing a means of escape. She peered closely at the spike which had been used to pierce through the stump of her right arm. It was closest to her head, so at least, she could study it visually. The spike resembled metal, though she was sure that it might not actually be a true metal. It was a bit translucent, as she could see a tiny rivulet of her blood flowing through it, and into a tube connected to its other end. The other three spikes had similar tubing, and Levinia could only determine that her blood was being siphoned into some structure, but for what purpose, she could not fancy a guess. Blood was powerful, and magics related to its manipulation were often scary and in some cases, forbidden outright. Whatever the nefarious reason for the draining of her blood, there was nothing she could do about it, while still held captive.
Slowly, she tugged at the chain shackling her left wrist. Then she yanked on it a little harder. It was no use. Her physical strength would not be sufficient. Through her mind flitted many options, and at a point, she even considered trying to dislocate her thumb, so that she would be able to slip her hand through the sealing stone cuff, but there was no easy way to do so. Perhaps if she strained and forced her hand, she might get it all bloody, and the blood might help lubricate the passage of her hand through the cuffs. However, she knew that it was not likely ever going to happen. The cuffs fit snugly around her wrist, and had there been some space between the sealing stone and her wrist, she could have tried to pursue that line of thought.
She glanced at the spike closest to her head again. The enervation she felt was mostly caused by the amount of blood she had lost; of that she was very sure. If she struggled really hard, she could tear free from the spike that drew blood from her amputated limb. However, the barbs were bound to cause terrible lacerations, and exacerbate her loss of blood. And even if she did so, what would she accomplish? She would still be unable to free her other three limbs.
She was suddenly aware of footfalls, and muffled voices coming closer. Her captors were approaching. Perhaps she could play possum? They would speak more freely around her, if they believed she was unconscious. So, she bowed her head, with her hair falling over most of her face. Little by little, the words they spoke became more and more audible. They were not speaking Fioran, or any other dialect spoken in Earthland, for as far as she could tell, yet their tongue was very familiar to her. She realized it was the language spoken by the denizens of the Land of Origin. She could not forget it readily, having spent more than half of her life there.
She was home.
And yet, as true as that statement would sound to some, it had a very ironic bite. The land of her birth was by far the most hostile world she had ever dwelt in, even though she had faced all sorts of discrimination, based on her looks, in times past and in different places. Left to her, anywhere was home, except this place.
It was not easy to tell how long Levinia had spent in the hijacked portal, which hurried to some unknown doom, yet for each perceived second that passed, a dark foreboding deepened around her. This was quite unlike how she had expected this story to end: she had thought that by completing the Rectifier’s tasks, defeating the twisted gods and retrieving her long lost right arm, that her problems would have been solved, at least for the time being. The whole ordeal had made her realize that her own people, who had been behind her curse, which was the predicament that had set her on the path to healing and freedom, had also been the ones responsible for inciting the Rectifier against her... or at least, one of them. For one thing, the twisted god she had slain knew her by name, but even if she was somehow famous in many parts that she was unaware of, he possessed a similar magic as hers: Grimoire magic. The little she remembered of the Land of Origin, as she liked to refer to her home world, was that the most powerful of them used that sort of script-territory magic. And from the way the sigils on her severed arm had sprung to life and diverted the course of the space-time portal that bore her away, it was almost a hundred percent certain that they were the ones responsible. Well, she was not going down without a fight. She was no longer the downtrodden, scared, sick, weak child they had treated like refuse. Her time with Beira and in Fiore had taught her that she had some power she could rely on, and she was powerful in her own right.
”79th Miracle Grimoire: Jubilee of Faith!” Levinia intoned, as she cast the beneficial spell on herself, so as to improve her odds in battle, as it was almost doubtless that she would find herself in one, very soon. ”78th Amulet Grimoire: Jubilee of Heroes!” She needed all the advantages she could get, as she was stepping into an utter unknown, and could not be certain of how many foes she would face, or how powerful they were. It was always better to overestimate and enemy, rather than underestimate them. Unless in a fight governed by particular rules, there was hardly any disadvantage in being over-prepared. Still, she was not done. ”77th Palisade Grimoire: Aegis Skin!” Her body was wreathed in white flames, granting her a personal protective layer. Now, she would be able to hit harder, and take a little extra damage, at least for the first few moments of combat. Having thus fortified herself with her arcane abilities, she proceeded to equip herself with physical arms, with which to execute warfare. First, she requipped her Alchemy Armor, then summoned the Ring of Velocity on her finger. Next, she drew out two of her most powerful swords: Nightgleam and the Utagatana. As her body brimmed with energy, she held the Songblade in her hands, while the Nightgleam was wielded by her telekinetic powers.
The edges of the portal began to shimmer, a tell-tale sign that the journey was coming to an end. Levinia took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly, trying to calm herself of the trepidation that filled her heart.
”Alright, let’s do this...”
The portal burst like a bubble, and everything was black. Not dark, but complete blackness. At first, Levinia thought she had been robbed of her sight, but then she noticed, to her surprise, that she couldn’t hear anything, feel anything. Heck, she was not even sure if she was breathing. All she knew was that she existed, and the blackness was all around. She tried flailing her arms, but she could not even sense that she was moving. Reaching out with her mind was also useless, because she couldn’t even sense her weapons, the environment, or even the magic that flowed through her body only moments before. She tried to speak, to scream, to even mutter, but she could not feel that she was opening her mouth, let alone uttering any sound. With everything having failed in such manner, she tried to think. Unfortunately, that too proved abortive, as all she was aware of was the darkness, a murk that clouded even her thoughts, making her incapable of most emotions. She was supposed to be alarmed, terrified, even, but she could not bring herself to even panic. It was like she had been separated from her body, from the rest of the universe, and her consciousness was trapped in this silent, senseless prison, from which she could not even think to escape. To plan ahead was impossible, so all she could do was wait.
Whether it was a second or a month, she could not tell, but the first sense that returned to her was her sense of feeling. Her body felt strangely cold, and she could discern a draft of wind that came every now and again. She tried to move her arms, but she realized they were restrained. And with that understanding came pain. Very likely, her mind was slowly awakening, and could now identify a stimulus that had been there before, but she had been too insensate to notice it. This pain was not like the affliction she had suffered at the hands of the twisted god, who could reach into a person’s nerve centers and draw out extreme pain. Such a pain was pervasive, but it was only perceived. No, this pain was more natural, and while it did not touch all her cells, she could feel it the most in her extremities, even in the stump that remained of her right arm. She felt exhausted, enervated, and her head throbbed like someone had played a percussive number directly on her brain. With some effort, she peeled open an eye. At first, everything was blurry, but eventually began to take shape.
She was in a stone chamber, and the ceiling was lacking, because as she strained her head to look up, she noticed that the sky, a series of blotched overcast clouds, was visible. Then she turned her head to see what was confining her movement. Her eyes came to rest on a long, thin, barbed spike, which protruded from her left hand. Her feet had been skewered in similar manner, and the spikes seemed to be hollow, because they slowly drained out blood from her body. What was left of her right arm had been similarly run through with such a tool, and she suddenly realized that she was stark naked, with only her long hair as some covering for modesty. Her prosthetic arm, along with her clothes, were nowhere to be seen. Her eyes grew wide as she stared at her uncovered form, and then, naturally, she tried to break free. It seemed, however, that she had been thoroughly stripped of whatever granted her magic power, making her as frail as just about any young human woman. She closed her eyes and measured her breathing. Whoever was responsible obviously wanted to strip her of everything, even her dignity. She would not indulge them, or give them any pleasure, by panicking visibly. Bereft of her powers, she might currently be, but her mind was still intact. Her ability to reason was not born of some magical gift; it was her own personal edge. If she could analyze the situation logically, she might find a solution to all this mess.
She looked around again, slowly, this time, focusing first on her restraints. She noticed the black stone-like cuffs that had been clasped around her wrist and ankles. The stones were attached to chains, which were riveted into the stone wall and floor. She was firmly held in place. If she still possessed her physical strength, she might have broken free of her bonds, even if the barbed spikes caused her more injury, but alas, she was powerless. Those black stones looked rather familiar, and she now knew why she had no magical energy at work within her. ”Magic sealing stones, ugh! That explains why I can’t use my magic, but I keep feeling there is something else...” It had always been a topic of research for her, to understand the workings of magic, and how it flowed and empowered those referred to as “mages” from the rest of the common populace. Such power was inherent in special bloodlines, like her own, and without the magic power, such bloodlines failed entirely. There were some few and far between cases, though of creatures who could ignore such sealing stones and use their powers even in the presence of items that would otherwise hinder magic power. Unfortunately for her, she was not among such few. Turning her mind away from prospective topics that right now held only academic virtues, she focused on securing a means of escape. She peered closely at the spike which had been used to pierce through the stump of her right arm. It was closest to her head, so at least, she could study it visually. The spike resembled metal, though she was sure that it might not actually be a true metal. It was a bit translucent, as she could see a tiny rivulet of her blood flowing through it, and into a tube connected to its other end. The other three spikes had similar tubing, and Levinia could only determine that her blood was being siphoned into some structure, but for what purpose, she could not fancy a guess. Blood was powerful, and magics related to its manipulation were often scary and in some cases, forbidden outright. Whatever the nefarious reason for the draining of her blood, there was nothing she could do about it, while still held captive.
Slowly, she tugged at the chain shackling her left wrist. Then she yanked on it a little harder. It was no use. Her physical strength would not be sufficient. Through her mind flitted many options, and at a point, she even considered trying to dislocate her thumb, so that she would be able to slip her hand through the sealing stone cuff, but there was no easy way to do so. Perhaps if she strained and forced her hand, she might get it all bloody, and the blood might help lubricate the passage of her hand through the cuffs. However, she knew that it was not likely ever going to happen. The cuffs fit snugly around her wrist, and had there been some space between the sealing stone and her wrist, she could have tried to pursue that line of thought.
She glanced at the spike closest to her head again. The enervation she felt was mostly caused by the amount of blood she had lost; of that she was very sure. If she struggled really hard, she could tear free from the spike that drew blood from her amputated limb. However, the barbs were bound to cause terrible lacerations, and exacerbate her loss of blood. And even if she did so, what would she accomplish? She would still be unable to free her other three limbs.
She was suddenly aware of footfalls, and muffled voices coming closer. Her captors were approaching. Perhaps she could play possum? They would speak more freely around her, if they believed she was unconscious. So, she bowed her head, with her hair falling over most of her face. Little by little, the words they spoke became more and more audible. They were not speaking Fioran, or any other dialect spoken in Earthland, for as far as she could tell, yet their tongue was very familiar to her. She realized it was the language spoken by the denizens of the Land of Origin. She could not forget it readily, having spent more than half of her life there.
She was home.
And yet, as true as that statement would sound to some, it had a very ironic bite. The land of her birth was by far the most hostile world she had ever dwelt in, even though she had faced all sorts of discrimination, based on her looks, in times past and in different places. Left to her, anywhere was home, except this place.
WC: 2041