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Underland 11: Slow Progress
🕑 Added 2021-10-12 08:17:54 +0000 UTCHermann’s master was just as odd as he was.
The droning song of flies and cavern locusts heralded his coming in the Hall of Rituals, alongside a black mass of spiders creeping down the walls. A swirling tide of maggots fell from the ceiling, piling up next to one of the twelve columns holding up the underground dome.
Valdemar watched in amazement as the insects and arachnids gathered in the shape of a giant humanoid whose ‘head’ reached the ten meters-tall ceiling. The swarm’s spiders worked as one to form a cloak of silk covering the monster’s gruesome appearance. Twin yellow stars glowed beneath the hood, gazing down at Hermann and Valdemar.
“Master… Loctis.” Hermann bowed deeply before the monstrous swarm. “Thank you for coming.”
Though the insects continued to drone, chitter and sing, one word cut through the noise.
“Student.” The swarm’s voice was as mighty as a dragon’s roar, deep, sinister, and undoubtedly male. “Are you ready to begin?”
“Yes… as you can see.” Hermann raised his chin and waved a clawed hand at the center of the room.
As per the procedure, the group had rented the Hall of Rituals for their experiment, and outfitted it with the necessary equipment. A summoning circle of blood, salt, and silver surrounded a pile of gold and a dozen rodents’ corpses. The wealth would serve to attract the Collector, and the flesh to help it take physical form.
Valdemar and Hermann had also set a mounted canvas outside the circle, more than two meters tall and almost as large. Though the duo had originally intended to either wound or sacrifice the Qlippoth once they extracted its blood, another idea came to mind as they prepared. They had soaked the canvas with their blood, to serve as a spiritual anchor for the creature.
But Valdemar preferred to focus on the walking swarm rather than the summoning circle. He had already crossed paths with a similar creature when he arrived at the Institute, but couldn’t observe him up close. Thousands if not millions of critters made up this entity, this Loctis. Valdemar analyzed them with his psychic sight, sensing the threads of magic binding them together. They were like droplets forming a large pool connected to others by invisible drains.
“You are not really here, aren’t you?” Valdemar guessed, after offering Hermann’s master a polite nod.
“I am everywhere you hear the song of my swarm, manling,” Loctis replied as it turned its ‘face’ at the speaker. Valdemar felt the will of something ancient and sinister looking through the vermins’ eyes. “But you are correct. This avatar is but one of many. As is the one you met when you crawled into this den of stone.”
For a moment, Valdemar thought he faced the most powerful animancer he had ever seen, but the reality turned out to be far more impressive. Each insect contained a piece of soul, so small the summoner could barely perceive it. But together, all these small lights formed a brilliant tapestry radiating with power. One that rivaled even Lord Och’s.
“You bound your soul to a hive of insects, Lord Loctis?” Valdemar knew some animancers could transfer their soul into an animal’s body, but he had never heard of someone doing it to millions of them at once. “May I ask how?”
“Each insect holds a piece of my consciousness,” the sentient swarm answered, though he didn’t go into the details. “My intellect waxes and wanes with their numbers. I am one, manling, and I am many.”
All breeds of insects share a familial bond, Valdemar thought as he observed the swarm. They tasted blood, and were bound by it… as will all their descendants.
But could a human soul resist being torn apart in so many pieces? Very few sorcerers could afford cutting off pieces of their essence without damaging their sanity and sense of self. Yet Valdemar detected no madness in the swarm’s aura. If anything, it stood out by its focus, its singularity of purpose.
The fact Loctis called Valdemar ‘manling’ made the sorcerer wonder how human the swarm remained though.
“A skilled sorcerer can sculpt their soul like clay, and polish it like a stone,” Loctis buzzed as he sensed Valdemar’s confusion. Though disturbing to look at and listen to, the creature’s calm, educational tone somehow felt reassuring. “Lord Och already guided you through the first steps. Perhaps one day, you shall transcend individuality and achieve the peace of the multitude.”
Valdemar would rather achieve a less disgusting form of immortality, but he couldn’t help but respect Loctis’ feat.
“My Master… is a biomancer,” Hermann said. “A sculptor of life… an artist of flesh. Life is his… canvas.”
“I can see why he became your teacher then,” Valdemar replied with a smile. “Lord Loctis, may I ask why you chose to join us today?”
“The creature you intend to summon shares characteristics with arachnids,” the swarm explained. “We shall see how many. I have studied all the lifeforms inhabiting this world, but paid little attention to the Qlippoths and denizens of other planes so far. This is an opportunity to cover a gap in my knowledge.”
“Master Loctis… wishes to assimilate the Qlippoth into his swarm… if we fail to bind it,” Hermann explained. “To consume its knowledge… and subsume its mind.”
“Assimilate a Collector? Is that even possible?” Valdemar asked in shock. A Collector wasn’t truly a spider, it only had the shape of one.
“I do not know either…” Hermann cleared his throat, while Loctis remained as quiet as a giant pile of insects could be. “We shall… find out.”
Valdemar didn’t hide his skepticism. The attempt was more likely to end with the Qlippoth’s essence overwhelming Loctis’ mind than anything. And yet… no common sorcerer could bind their soul to millions of creatures at once either.
“Begin,” Loctis ordered.
“Yes, yes,” Valdemar replied as he knelt before the summoning circle. “Hermann?”
The troglodyte nodded slowly as he grabbed his paintbrush, waiting next to the portrait. Hermann raised his magical defenses, an invisible shield of psychic energy forming around him. Valdemar mentally probed his defenses to test them, and he didn’t like what he saw.
“Hermann, your shield is passable,” Valdemar warned his colleague. He shouldn’t complain since the likes of Och could shred through his own like tissue paper, but the summoner had no idea how powerful the Collector might prove to be. “Can’t you strengthen it further?”
“I… I admit I focused more on practical uses of magic… than combat-related applications.” Hermann sounded a bit embarrassed about that. “You said your summoning circle… would hold the creature.”
“It should.” Valdemar had checked multiple times. “But ‘should’ doesn’t mean it will.”
“I will step in if anything happens,” Loctis droned with impatience. “Carry on.”
If the hive insisted...
Hermann and Valdemar had originally planned to wound the creature on arrival, extract its blood, and then banish it... but the troglodyte had suggested a more daring alternative. They wouldn’t kill the Qlippoth, but bind its essence and trap it into a painting to achieve a great feat in pictomancy.
They would create a painted place.
At least, that was the best-case scenario. Valdemar had faith in his summoning abilities, but he knew better than to underestimate a Qlippoth. He felt Loctis’ gaze on his back as he knelt next to the circle, channeling the Blood through it.
“Collector of names and member of the fifth caste, I call thee from the depths of the Outer Darkness!” Valdemar chanted, as a red glow coursed through the summoning circle. “Spinner of wealth, I offer you this tribute by the grace of the Nahemoths!”
Valdemar felt a chill run down his spine, as his Blood weakened the invisible veil separating the planes. His call echoed beyond the material universe and didn’t go unheard. A powerful presence immediately took notice.
The world grew cold as Valdemar sensed his lifeforce drained away. The circle funneled his magic towards its center, soaking up the treasures and flesh like water. An alien force sank its teeth into this offering, using it to manifest.
The rodents’ corpses inside the circle started to dissolve into goo, mixing with the coins. The metal melted and expanded into a sphere, as an invisible force reshaped it into a vessel for its otherworldly essence.
Valdemar watched in amazement as this bubble of gold and flesh grew into a tangle of red spidery legs topped with sharp blades… and far too many for a single spider to support. A chitinous body of red plates formed at their center, topped with a dozen yellow, gemstone eyes. A mouth opened in their midst, filled with insectoid fangs.
“MINE!” The word telepathically echoed inside Valdemar’s skull through the summoning bond, as clear as water. “Mine, mine, mine! It’s all mine! You are all mine!”
The monstrosity grew larger than a giant beetle, its many legs pushing the summoning circle in all directions. When they touched the boundaries of blood and salt, a barrier of red energy formed to stop them. The creature madly thrashed against its prison, its eyes glowing with otherworldly madness.
A pulse of psychic energy erupted from inside the circle, and Valdemar sensed this telepathic wave crash against his magical defenses. Did I make an error with the circle? the summoner thought in alarm.
“Your souls are mine!” The abomination telepathically raged through the telepathic link. Valdemar grinded his teeth, as the beast’s hits against his barrier reverberated through his bones. One of the Qlippoth’s eyes glared at Hermann, and another at Valdemar himself, bathing them in golden light. “Your bones are mine, and this land too! Let me out! LET ME OUT!”
“Hermann, now!” Valdemar shouted. Now that the creature had fully manifested, the summoner needed assistance to bind it in the painting. “Hermann!”
But nobody answered.
Valdemar turned his head at the troglodyte, only to find him frozen in place by the Qlippoth’s luminous gaze. A golden, weblike ectoplasmic substance coated Hermann’s body, preventing the pictomancer from moving. His eyes were lifeless, his limbs as still as his paintings.
Damn, the summoning circle contained the beast, but not its power!
“Hermann!” Valdemar shouted, trying to shake his friend out of his temporal paralysis. “Hermann, damn it, I can’t hold him alone!”
While struggling to maintain the summoning circle’s integrity, Valdemar psychically probed the troglodyte’s magical defenses in the hope of strengthening them… and found them intact. Whatever spell the Collector had cast, it completely bypassed Hermann’s protections.
Worse, the same substance had spread to Loctis’ silk cloak, freezing it in space and time. But unlike his student, the Master somehow remained capable of moving.
“Enough,” Loctis’ voice buzzed across the room and inside Valdemar’s head. “Submit.”
Valdemar had no idea how the insectoid warlock managed to hijack the telepathic bond, but the trapped Qlippoth clearly heard the command. Half of its dozen golden eyes glared at Loctis in anger, the paralyzing substance spilling from the sorcerer’s cloak to entrap flies and spiders. For a brief instant, Valdemar thought Hermann’s master would suffer the same fate as the troglodyte.
Loctis spoke a single word, and the golden substance dispelled from Hermann and his cloak.
The troglodyte stumbled against his painting, while his teacher returned the Collector’s hateful gaze. “What?” Hermann asked in confusion.
“Alas, its resemblance with spiders is indeed purely cosmetic,” the swarm lamented with a cold, clinical tone. He sounded neither disappointed nor frustrated. “Its mind is deaf to my song. You may proceed with the capture.”
The casual, arrogant way he dismissed the Qlippoth chilled Valdemar to the core. The creature the summoner struggled to contain was no more intimidating than a fly to the senior sorcerer.
Hermann quickly recovered his composure and assisted in the binding spell. The canvas’ surface shifted like a whirlpool, a cell calling for a prisoner. Using the summoning bond connecting him to the Qlippoth, Valdemar attempted to transfer it into the painting. His mind telekinetically grabbed the monster’s essence the same way he took over a human’s blood.
The Qlippoth immediately resisted, its alien will pushing back against his would-be captor’s psychic grip. And unlike the Knight of the Tome Valdemar once threw at a wall, the Collector refused to budge.
All the Qlippoth’s eyes focused on its summoner, trying to paralyze him. Valdemar faced the golden glow in the beast’s glare without flinching. Whatever warding spell Loctis had cast, it canceled the Collector’s power.
The Qlippoth’s eyes suddenly lost their luster, as if the creature had recognized the futility of its efforts. Valdemar felt all resistance to his control falter and crumble, like a dam breaking. The Collector’s essence became as malleable as clay to his mind.
Though wary of a false surrender, Valdemar immediately worked to complete the ritual. The summoning circle’s shape changed, its outer layer of blood expanding to include Hermann’s canvas. The painted whirlpool on its surface swirled as the Collector’s legs touched it, the painting sucking the creature in. The Qlippoth vanished inside the portrait within seconds, and the summoning circle shrinking into nothingness. Only a single leg remained on the ground, releasing a fountain of golden blood.
Hermann immediately applied his paintbrush to give shape to the painted whirlpool, while Valdemar continued to shape the Qlippoth’s essence. Collectors had the capacity to freeze objects in time and space, and the two warlocks worked together to harness its power.
Hermann’s paintbrush skillfully gave shape to the canvas’ chaotic surface; half of it was pure skill, and the other advanced pictomancy spells. After a few minutes of work, the researchers no longer gazed at aimless blood, but at the detailed picture of an exquisite square room with golden walls and cobwebs tapestries. The details were so intricate, so perfect, that it looked almost real.
“It is done…” Hermann said as he lowered his paintbrush. “Valdemar, do you… sense its power?”
Yes, he did. The painting radiated a faint aura of magic, one that belied the new artifact’s true power. Valdemar slowly approached the portrait, raising his hand at its surface. The paint felt smooth under his nails, and the pigments shuddered when he touched them.
“Incredible,” Valdemar said in amazement. “So fast...”
“Fighting is not among my talents… but I am not helpless either,” Hermann said with pride. “I can… bind an essence in a minute. I do not even need… a canvas to paint on.”
“You did well,” Loctis calmly congratulated the two researchers.
Hermann’s pride turned to shame. “No, I… I apologize for my weakness, Master. This spider’s power… it bypassed my defenses. I didn't even notice. I’m sorry, Valdemar.”
“I would have been trapped too, if not for your master’s help,” he reassured Hermann. “And my summoning circle wasn’t up to the task. We’re both at fault here.”
“I did not protect you,” Loctis replied with amusement. “I applaud your mastery of space-time sorcery, by the way.”
Valdemar frowned in confusion. “You didn’t protect me?”
The Master’s countless insects gazed at Valdemar. It reminded him of the eyes outside the Institute, and not in a good way. “Curious,” the swarm droned. “You shrugged off the Qlippoth’s time-space binding, but not out of any conscious effort on your part.”
“Maybe the summoning bond shielded me,” Valdemar guessed, though a part of him doubted it. The circle hadn’t protected Hermann.
“What was it?” Hermann asked. “That attack… it wasn’t a spell.”
“The Collector altered reality on a fundamental level,” Loctis explained. “Weaving the threads of space and time to isolate you from the rest of existence. I doubt anyone unfamiliar with teleportation and advanced space-time manipulation could resist this effect.”
Which begged the question of how Valdemar shrugged it off. He could sense Loctis was asking himself the same question.
“I see…” Hermann focused on his new painting. “Good to know… studying this art piece may… teach me how to resist such ability in the future.”
“Do you want to go in first?” Valdemar asked, his hand still on the painted surface.
“The honor… is yours, my friend.”
Valdemar held his breath, and pushed.
His hand vanished through the painting, its surface rippling like water. His fingers had entered a warmer space than the cold Hall of Rituals, and soon his arm followed. With a smile, Valdemar stepped inside the painting.
The crossing felt like walking through a wall of water, his boots stepping on a smooth metal surface. The pocket dimension took the shape of a cube of gold with a single portrait-shaped doorway, with a space smaller than his workshop. Still, Valdemar couldn’t help but grin as his fingers trailed against the cobwebs on the ceiling. Though they felt like paint rather than silk, they were real.
Hermann followed him into the painting, his tail flapping happily. “It… it worked,” he said with quiet joy.
“Yes, it did!” Valdemar knocked the golden wall. “Do you think we could expand it?”
“We could… if we connect multiple paintings.” The troglodyte scratched his left horn, as he calculated the room’s size. “Twenty cubic meters… maybe twenty-five.”
Valdemar suddenly realized that Loctis hadn’t sent any insects after them, the swarm waiting on the other side of the painted barrier. “Are we the only ones who can enter this place?” he asked Hermann.
“Yes… and no,” Hermann replied. “We used our blood to craft this gate… and our blood is its key.”
“So Liliane can’t enter until we spray her with our blood?” Valdemar shuddered. “Well, I guess we can use this portrait as an additional closet.”
“I will take this painted place… study it.” Hermann’s claws trailed against the walls. “This is a small world… too small...”
“Too small for your kind?” Valdemar guessed. “Is that why you wanted us to go through with that ritual?”
“It was a test-run… practice for the day we will create… the Silent King’s door.” Hermann shrugged. “And if we cannot open it… maybe it could be the draft of a new world. A new reality where my kind… could settle.”
“I think it would take a Nahemoth for that, and I doubt they can even be bound in a painting at all.” Valdemar considered how to expand this pocket dimension. “Now that the Collector’s essence gives this space structure, we could strengthen it. What if we bound a soul echo to the portrait, like my grandfather’s? Will it take a solid shape inside? Will it increase the pocket dimension’s boundaries?”
“I do not know…” Hermann replied, though with excitement rather than surrender. “We shall see…”
They were just starting.
The duo stepped out of the painted space, though Hermann wisely attempted to bring a strand of cobweb with him. The substance vanished when it crossed the threshold, proving that painted elements could only survive inside the pocket dimension. Valdemar’s hopes to bring painted gold to the real world died with this demonstration.
“Once you are done with the fluid extraction, you shall transport the beast's leg to my workshop,” Loctis ordered his student, as he collected the Qlippoth’s blood on the floor inside a bottle. The Collector’s severed leg still wriggled on the ground as if alive. “I wish to study it.”
“Yes, Master,” Hermann replied with obedience.
The living swarm wordlessly scattered like a formless mass, the spiders among it cannibalizing the silken cloak. The hordes of insects crept up the walls and vanished through small cracks in the stone.
Valdemar suddenly remembered Edwin’s quip about all bats reporting to Master Amie. “Do all animals in the Institute answer to a sorcerer?” he asked Hermann before grabbing the canvas for transport. It was a lot heavier than the summoner expected.
“Not only… the animals. Fear… the plants. They have ears too...”
“Really?”
“No,” Hermann replied with a deadpan tone, as he moved to help Valdemar. “It was a joke.”
-------------------------------
“I am pleased by your progress, apprentice.” For once, Lord Och sounded halfway honest. The lich had finally deigned to contact his student again, inviting him to a stroll through the Institute’s hedge maze. “Turning an intermediate Qlippoth into a pocket dimension’s power source was a stroke of genius, if you pardon me using the expression.”
“The idea’s credit goes to Hermann,” Valdemar replied. He took a moment to observe the black thorns making up most of the maze, and noticed a few colorful flowers growing out of them. “Has it been done before?”
“Many pictomancers created pocket dimensions, but none used a summoned creature as its fuel,” the lich answered with a shrug. “You can achieve a similar result with five human sacrifices and a kitten.”
That was oddly specific. Thankfully, Hermann had more ethics than the lich.
“I didn’t know you were familiar with pictomancy, my teacher,” Valdemar admitted. ”Do not take it the wrong way, but you do not look the artistic type.”
“I do not have your appetite for the arts nor Hermann’s talent with a paintbrush, but I studied all forms of magic. A few pictomancers achieved a form of immortality similar to lichdom by binding their soul to their own portrait, and I sought to understand the process better.”
“Did you bind your soul to a portrait, my teacher?”
“Are you fishing for information about my phylactery, apprentice?” The lich sounded more amused than anything. “I decided against using a painting. I do not denigrate the great feat of achieving immortality through pictomancy, but I found this method… imperfect.”
“Because the painting degrades?”
“That can be solved easily enough with the right spells,” Lord Och replied dismissively. “The problem is simpler, my apprentice. A sorcerer binding their soul to a portrait will always reflect it. They will never grow old, their wounds will close. But they remain unchanging, and thralls to their vanity, their passions, their lusts. Lichdom is the superior form of immortality because it frees the mind from these foolish temptations.”
The answer made Valdemar smile. “I suppose you have a poor opinion of vampires?”
“I do.” The disdain in the lich’s voice was real enough. “I will never understand their appeal. I do not even consider them true undead, since they still need to feed. Vampires are a botched work.”
The lich eventually led them to a small fountain inside the maze. A statue of a hooded, cyclopean creature poured water in a marble basin full of algae and translucent fish. Valdemar analyzed them with his psychic sight, and realized a biomancer had enhanced both animals and plants to make the small ecosystem self-sustaining. The fish’s dejections nourished the algae that then produced oxygen and nutrients for the local animals.
“What life lesson did you take from this adventure?” Lord Och asked his apprentice, as he gazed at the pure waters.
Considering the ‘life lesson’ part, Valdemar guessed the lich asked for wisdom rather than practical knowledge. “The Collector was more powerful than I imagined. I shouldn’t have underestimated it and prepared better.”
“A wise answer, apprentice, but not the one I wished to hear.”
Lord Och glanced at a fish and telekinetically pulled it out of the water.
“Let me tell you a secret about the Strangers, the Qlippoths, and all these arrogant creatures inhabiting our world,” the lich said, as he coldly watched the captive animal struggling to escape his invisible grasp. “You may meet a few pretending to be as old as the world, to have created mankind, or to claim godhood. It may even be true.”
Valdemar raised an eyebrow, knowing such claims would have given an inquisitor a dire case of apoplexy.
“But no matter how powerful they look, we can overcome these entities.” The lich released the fish, letting it sink into the basin. Valdemar let out a sigh of relief upon seeing it flee for the bottom, as far away from the surface as possible. “The gods do not deserve our worship, let alone our suffering. If these beings achieved great power, so can we; for there is no limit to the human genius.”
There was something oddly reassuring in the Dark Lord’s cold, calm arrogance. Inspiring even. “Impossible is but a word,” Valdemar said. Countless people told him reaching Earth was impossible, and he would prove them all wrong.
“Indeed.” Lord Och put his hands behind his back while glancing at the cyclops statue. “This realization should have given you clarity, and yet your mind remains clouded.”
“I’m… I’m asking myself questions,” Valdemar admitted, his own gaze turning to the water. “I’ve noticed a few strange occurances, and I don’t know what to make of them.”
The lich scoffed. “Enlighten me.”
“The Collector’s power didn’t affect me and it stopped resisting my attempts to bind it, even though it had more than enough strength to fight back.” Valdemar had wondered if it had been a trick, but the summoner had felt the creature’s essence bend to his will as he reshaped it into a pocket dimension. “It simply… submitted.”
“You should take pride in your power.”
“It felt too easy,” Valdemar replied. ”And someone commented on my stench.”
“I suggest perfume,” the lich quipped. “It works wonders for me.”
“Except that when I asked Hermann about it, he replied that I smelled like the Collector we just bound. I also heal far faster than anyone I know. I didn’t think much of it beforehand, but when I add all these details together...”
“You feel there is something unnatural about you, young Valdemar?”
“I don’t feel, I think.” Valdemar scowled at the Dark Lord. “And I know you suspect something too, my teacher. You sent Marianne to dig into my family history to confirm whatever hypothesis you made.”
The lich’s silence spoke louder than any word.
“How did you learn to summon Qlippoths?” Lord Och eventually asked, though he refused to turn around and face his apprentice.
Valdemar frowned in confusion. “I bought a manual at the Midnight Market.”
“Did you?” the lich asked innocently.
“You can ask my empty purse,” Valdemar replied with insolence.
“Did you find this book, or did the book find its way to you?” Lord Och looked over his shoulder, the glowing light in his sockets faltering. “Are your dreams truly dreams? Are they even your own?”
Of course the Dark Lord would answer a question with more questions. “What are you getting at, my teacher?”
“That if you want to learn the truth, you should ask yourself the right questions.” The lich turned around and faced his apprentice. “I do not ask questions to confuse you, young Valdemar, but because the journey to an answer is as valuable as the answer itself. Life is a test, and effort builds character.”
“So if I want any answer, I’ll have to find them myself?” So much for tutoring.
“Careful, young Valdemar,” the Dark Lord said with cold amusement, having read his apprentice’s thoughts. “I can tolerate insolence, but not ungratefulness. Have I not been helpful to you?”
“You have,” Valdemar conceded. He wouldn’t have met teachers like Hermann without the Dark Lord’s support, nor glimpsed at the true nature of the world without his guidance. The Institute had given him more resources than he could have ever hoped for.
But Lord Och was still a manipulative ass who withheld information from his ‘apprentice,’ while putting him through potentially deadly tests.
“Do you expect me to coddle you, apprentice?” The lich chuckled. “Like a blacksmith molding the perfect blade by hammering the steel over and over again, I will reshape you into the greatest sorcerer you can be.”
“How does keeping secrets from me help with the tempering process?” Valdemar asked with a dubious frown.
“Because you are the only one who can find yourself, young Valdemar,” the Dark Lord replied with surprising gravitas. “If I told you of my suspicions, they would influence you. I can teach you how to practice magic, to bend reality to your will, but I cannot tell you who you are. No one can do that, except you.”
Valdemar crossed his arms, but took the time to consider his mentor’s words.
Who was he? He didn’t need anybody to tell him that. He was Valdemar Verney, seeker of Earth, and that would never change. Though he was angry with the Dark Lord for keeping his cards close to chest, in the end, it didn’t matter. Valdemar had taken him up on his offer of apprenticeship to open a path to Earth, not to learn more about himself. He could do that on his own.
“Fine,” Valdemar said. “I’ll find the truth myself.”
“That’s the spirit.” The lich decided to throw him a bone. “I did promise I would share one of my secrets with you if you proved an apt disciple, and I shall deliver. Tell me, what do you know of the ancient Pleromians?”
“That they built this place and many other monuments,” Valdemar replied. “Until their civilization went extinct, though nobody knows how.”
“Don’t you find it strange though, that an entire population could die without leaving any trace?”
“Well, I did consider another possibility,” Valdemar admitted. “That they aren’t dead. That they just moved on.”
“But where could an entire civilization go without leaving a trace? Underland is a vast place, but they should have left hints.” The lich tilted his head to the side. “Unless they went... elsewhere?”
Valdemar’s eyes widened, as a possibility formed in his mind. “No way...”
“It is time I show you what stirs beneath our feet, young Valdemar.” Lord Och put his hand on Valdemar’s shoulder, as space twisted around them. “And where the Pleromians went.”
Comments
Jake V
Unless it's a red herring, my suspicion is that the creature in the well he sees in his dreams is his true body, and he's actually a greater Qlippoth of Pride. That would explain the smell, the collector giving up mid battle, and all the shit that went down in the ghost town.... not to mention it seemed like Lord Och was testing him with that line about how he should "take pride in your power".
JJ
Your diverse writing style never ceases to amaze me. RPG-fantasy, scifi-superhero, rpg-mythology, lovecraftian adventure. We are truly blessed as readers. Thank you!
Void Herald
I admit I was more inspired by the levels in Mario 64 than Dark Souls on that front ;)
Ervin Ughy
Do painted worlds exist in mythology or literature? Where did you get the idea? I've only heard of them in the Dark Souls series.
Joel Sasmad
Also if he does transition the soul echo to the new painting he should at least be able to physically interact with it and get the chance to give his grandpa a hug. I wish I had that chance.
Mrbuttface
Thx for the chaps
Matthew Lewis Worthington
Also thanks for the chapter
Matthew Lewis Worthington
Moar I need moarrr
