RP:Castellian - Alone and Lost
Note
This is part of the The Obsidian Pool - The First Wave story arc.
In The Obsidian Pool
In his life Castellian had come to know many of darkness' forms, both lesser and greater. Once, when he was but a boy, he had fallen down a mine shaft while accompanying his father on an inspection of the quarry. The entire operation had been shut down for half a day until he was fetched out, battered and cold, and nearly catatonic from the experience. His first introduction with darkness, complete and unwelcoming, had also been one of his most unsettling.
Now, tumbling weightless through a dark even the mine could not mimic, the Drow Lord once again felt the natural weight of fear settle oppressively on his heart. He could feel himself turning end-over-end on his way down, and felt his hands reaching to feel walls, something to try and slow himself. They passed through air (or was it?) and still he rolled, helpless in his descent. But the fall did not trouble him nearly as much as the blackness of his surroundings, for his white-on-white eyes had often found -some- hint of his surroundings in even the darkest of caverns. Now? Now he was blind, surprisingly so, and worse he could feel the itch upon his right hand returning.
The Seal of Darkness had become both an ally and an enemy to Castellian D'Onri, aiding him with powers he could not have otherwise imagined and plaguing him with its insatiable hunger for control. The corruptive nature of the crest was something the Drow had to battle daily, but now? Drowning in a Shadow of most Chaotic nature? It was all but pulsing inside him, screaming for a hint of action.
It was this that kept him occupied now, this understanding of what could truly happen here. He could fall forever for all he knew, or perhaps land with crushing force at the base of this pool. That would be a mercy compared to the unknown, compared to the thought of being lost in the shadow.
And his fear had the best of him now, and so it was. Before his vision lay the dark, broken only by the gradual appearance of the alabaster scribed runes laid along his palm. They pulsed, and glowed as life came to them. Ethereal ambience overtaking his hand, breaking through the dark. The Seal fought the shadow of the pool, devouring it, illuminating the cavern in its wake.
Castellian reached out, just as his body neared the wall of the shaft he was in. His hands found purchase on a ledge of stone, and abruptly he jerked to a stop. The velocity of his fall nearly torn his arm from the socket, but he dangled, swinging precariously from his left hand while the other pulsed and glowed.
He had no options now but to use it, for what good was he dead? The decision made, he stretched out, summoning the Seal to work under his hand. The shadow broke, split, and shuddered as archaic magics penetrated it. The ebon that hid this place from view was fragmented, and suddenly detonated, shreds of it drawn to the Drow's hand.
The power was incredible, and the volume of the unseen that lay within this pool could sustain him always. His control slipped, his ambitions swelled. Tenebrae and he, they were always greater than the rest. For the most part the pair were royal now, feared and adored in equal doses. Closing his eyes, Castellian let loose. Through distress he had found salvation.
The days unfolded more swiftly than he had realized, for Darkness and he were utterly symbiotic. The harmony between them was unmatched as he absorbed the pool's ambience, finding Tenebrae in a lingering puddle of oily water to the side. She had clung to him desperately, kissing his face with adoration, and found his side as he drew them out. From there he had laid waste to what defenses the realm had, aided by Darkness. His legions had swelled, and Tenebrae had been a perfect warrior queen.
Cenril had fallen, the last of their conquests. They had scorched a path along the gates and laid waste to the city's populace. Domination had never been so defined, and together they had claimed the entire countryside as their own. The consumation of their marriage and rule came at once, in a furious collision of their smooth-skinned bodies atop Cenril's shattered city hall. Her writhing body stilling only as the pleasure faded, and their legs entwined as she curled into him.
"My husband," she had whispered to his throat, thoroughly sated. Around them the sounds of the slaughter continued, man, woman, and child dragged from their hiding places and cut down until the streets of Cenril were soaked red in blood. Through them a new race would rise, a new kingdom. "My king..."
Reality came back to Castellian suddenly, like a slap across the face of his perceptions. All at once he was aware that he was standing now, solid ground beneath and darkness all around. He lifted his voice then, calling out to no avail. Nobody would hear him, nobody could. He was lost as well now, swallowed up by illusion. Aware of it, he could still manage little, save guard the hope that by some chance he stumbled across Tenebrae as he wandered through the pool, and in turn, the darker corridors of his mind.