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Abyssal Road Trip - 300 - With her
🕑 Added 2023-06-21 17:37:13 +0000 UTCAmdirlain’s PoV - Outlands - Prison Cells
Amdirlain collected the enchanted crystals around the prison and stored them in Inventory. She took apart the four cells before gathering up the spheres that now contained her patients. Considering her options, Amdirlain created the smallest storage ring she could manage and stowed them.
As she slipped it on, Moradin raised his brows. “I’ve heard tales about you using a trick called Inventory. I hadn’t expected you to need a storage ring.”
“While I’m not sure it's completely the same, Inventory seems a progression of a Power called Soul Space, which has concerning implications.”
Moradin hummed. “I don’t know the Power, but with that name I can understand your concern, especially since you were carving out chunks of the Abyss with Inventory.”
“Please don’t remind me,” groaned Amdirlain.
“You can’t undo the past, Amdirlain, which goes for far more than that Power. Still, I agree it’s best to avoid the chance of further damage—if you’ve done any,” advised Moradin.
“I should tell his boss,” Amdirlain stated, and Moradin nodded in agreement. After taking apart the last of the protections, Amdirlain spoke again. “Týr, I’m sorry for providing you false hope. I’ve had Moradin look at Torm and the others.”
Týr’s awareness washed over them briefly before he appeared and nodded to each. “Moradin. Amdirlain. How bad is the situation?”
Moradin beat Amdirlain to reply. “There is only malice and spite within, and I don’t see that changing. With all three tied to Destruction, Amdirlain’s healing attempts cause them to cling to the Concept. We’re left with naught but hard choices.”
Blinking at his words, Amdirlain sighed. “Was Gondren in service to one of your Pantheon?”
“A close ally, but not family; they’ll mourn his loss twice over now,” replied Moradin.
Catching the sorrow in Amdirlain’s gaze, Týr rested a hand on her shoulder. “I know the pain you would have gladly endured if there’d been a chance. What are the choices?”
“I wish I’d asked Moradin earlier; I tortured them for no purpose,” breathed Amdirlain as she scrubbed her face clear. “Our options are destruction or eternal imprisonment, so they can’t hurt others. We want to see if the Titan will respond to a request to purify their essence, or at least tell us if the Jade Court’s approach will work.”
At that last, Týr looked between them in disbelief. “You believe this is a possibility?”
“I’ve spoken to his servants in Judgement previously. I would take along some souls, an approach that has attracted their notice previously. If they reject the request, I will try Cyrus’ option with the Jade Court, but there is no certainty it is even viable,” explained Amdirlain.
“Livia prayed for guidance, but I had no information to share. If the Titan’s Servant speaks to you, I agree we should enquire about the Jade Court’s approach,” offered Týr sadly. “It might save you later worry about what might have been if you rule the option out yourself. I want to accompany you if you’d allow it. I can sense he’s already imprisoned in the ring you wear, but I would like to bear witness.”
Putting aside her plan to hunt for further Lómë souls, Amdirlain nodded. “I’ll need to retrieve some souls that have directing the towers.”
“Are you cutting short their labours to earn rebirth?” Týr inquired curiously.
“Their presence will aid us, so it’s only fair.”
“We’ll wait on the cliff above,” offered Moradin. “I’ll repair this place so that none can use it to find a trace of you. I know it's not likely, but best to close off loose threads. You’ve removed all the protections; who knows what traces an oracle might find.”
“Thank you for all your help; I’m not sure I can ever repay you,” offered Amdirlain.
Moradin frowned, and his bushy eyebrows drew downwards. “I’ve been told you’re obsessing about debts again, youngling. With Orhêthurin’s life behind you, I had hoped you’d avoid letting guilt over matters not in your control drive you.”
Amdirlain sighed and tried stabilising her racing thoughts. “I think I am. There is a lot of guilt regarding Gail and Livia. I don’t want them caught up in my problems.”
“A few words of advice?” asked Týr. “Please stop me if you feel I’m speaking out of turn, as we've spoken only infrequently. With my knowledge of you from various sources, I feel like I know you and I’ve plenty of reasons to want to help you.”
Aware of how much knowledge he’d have about her and her abilities from his faithful’s and Torm’s, experiences, Amdirlain nodded. “I’m listening.”
“If someone feels they owe you, let them. Rejecting it cheapens their emotions, and it's up to you to decide if you collect any debt or ignore it forever. We can see many social interactions as debts if you obsess over them.”
Amdirlain winced. “My Charisma worries me; it affects people in ways I can’t control properly, and I’ve had people trying to repay me for things I did out of guilt.”
Moradin tapped his fingers. “To have control over Charisma, you must first know its extent. Find a way you are comfortable with the emotions you inspire in people.”
“That's nice, but how?” asked Amdirlain.
“To borrow a phrase that I’ve heard Gail uses: sing for your supper; or something similar,” suggested Týr. “Bards always inspire people with emotions, sometimes emotions besides the urge to punch them in the face.”
Amdirlain laughed, only to stop and bite her lip thoughtfully. “I stopped increasing my Singing Skill, even before it got absorbed into a True Song evolution.”
“Have you sung normal songs?” enquired Týr.
“Only when I was in the Maze and doing some initial practice,” advised Amdirlain.
“Maybe sing something normal,” proposed Týr. “It’s only a suggestion, but learn the songs about local heroes or historic events, and inspire their emotions towards figures of the past. Then your Charisma doesn’t draw them to you but their legends and tales of daring.”
Moradin nodded. “You’ve focused on avoiding dark results, so you refused to proceed down paths. Both with Charisma and your concern over people feeling indebted to you. The only people to watch out for are those that can ignore what others have done for them.”
“Yeah, those I keep on a different list,” muttered Amdirlain.
“Do you want to know the best way I’ve found to handle someone being persistent about a debt you don’t want them repaying?” asked Moradin.
“Advice is welcome, though I’ll admit I’ve gotten annoyed when people have tried to push me into doing what they see as being for the best,” sighed Amdirlain.
“Well, this one is optional and just a guideline: ask for specific repayment and get them to do something that helps someone else. For some people, you can’t just tell them to help someone in the future. They have to see it as helping you. Find something you’d like improved—setting up an orphanage, educating youngsters—anything that appeals to you. Tell them your desired outcome, and leave them to it.”
“You don’t have issues with people protesting that ‘it didn’t help you’?” enquired Amdirlain.
“Usually, telling them it saved me the time of handling it myself is enough. They feel good because they've paid me back, and they stop making a fuss,” shrugged Moradin. “Though I know what you mean about debts, I prefer leaving the ledgers to other deities. Do work you’re proud of, and then don’t sweat the rest.”
“Is Livia one of those you feel shouldn’t be in your debt?” enquired Týr.
“Yes, and I was sharp with her about it,” sighed Amdirlain.
Týr patted her shoulder. “You also mentioned guilt about her. If it helps, it doesn’t bother Livia; she’s far happier with her life now than she was following Janus. You saved her from the service of a now-dead God. It wasn’t your acceptance of the summons that killed her or started the corruption. B—or Viper—flushed that abyssal heat through the initial Soul link you had from the summoning. Perhaps pin the blame there if you need to apportion guilt.”
“Viper’s somewhere dealing with a Planar Lock of her own. Though Isa ensured she has no memories, she’s likely a loose end I should tie off,” mused Amdirlain, nodding to Týr.
“Best not to leave that Demon to roam free when you don’t know how strong she might be,” agreed Týr. “That aside, I still wish to address your influence on Livia. While your Ki certainly affected Livia’s life, I feel it’s safe to consider it improved. Strangely, I’ve even more insights into her than you do. If you want to ease your guilt over that outcome, you could always help me.”
“With what?” enquired Amdirlain.
Týr grinned. “With Livia’s dual situation as a senior Priest and her progression towards becoming an Immortal in the Jade Court.”
“Oh? What trouble did I cause?” laughed Amdirlain, trying to let him lighten the mood, despite the weight of the ring she wore.
“Indeed, endless rounds of negotiation aren’t to be laughed about,” Týr huffed, but Amdirlain caught the slight gleam in his gaze. Giving her a comforting smile, he extended his hand to Amdirlain. “Between friends, what others see as debts are mutual exchanges given out of respect. My thanks for this work you took on. Though it didn’t come to the result we hoped for, I still appreciate your efforts and regret the pain you endured.”
Amdirlain blinked back tears. “Did you both take the time simply to distract me?”
Moradin smiled. “Not distract, but console. And it's what you do for those you see as friends. You’ll always be a friend even if you don’t remember those times. What you took on was extremely unpleasant, and it can aggravate other pains. You’ve issues weighing you down, and it’s only right we take the time to help lessen the burden.”
“Thanks. I’ll meet you above with the souls,” stated Amdirlain, and, struggling to decide how she should feel about the advice, she used a song to shift herself across planes.
The accuracy of the theme delivered her into a bolt hole. The slimes she’d expected to find ripe with energy were nowhere to be found; instead, only newbies sat within the holding bays.
Checking the crystals that handled the overall control of the towers, she found the battlefront against Orcus’ forces hadn’t returned any veterans to the holding bays. So far, the fighting had seen the manifested towers switch between over a hundred thousand controllers from this facility alone.
Well, I didn’t give Sage a time limit on returning them. Controlling weaponry able to destroy demons and undead and the constant fighting will keep their turnover high.
Amdirlain triggered a staggered exchange, and the holding bay’s atmosphere began to change. The first few that returned did little to it, but then a rush of halogen bright slimes appeared. When the slimes finished being switched out, the chamber was brighter than stadium night game lighting. Some of the glowing veterans provided the intensity of spotlights by themselves. Behind the barrier, the chamber’s air roiled with the Celestial energy emitted by the slimes. The song that ripped the souls from the slimes’ cores netted her a few thousand experience points, and Amdirlain frowned in consideration. The masses of slime usually ejected by the towers sat within the tanks, and before the cycle could set new slimes in place, they would have to be cleaned.
Taking a risk, Amdirlain absorbed a tiny amount within Inventory. With no discomfort experienced, she cleared tank after tank until they’d all been emptied. Though Inventory showed nearly a tonne of the material, Pain Eater didn’t show a sliver of discomfort. Unsure if the test told her more about the Power or the state of her Soul, Amdirlain briefly contemplated how to dispose of the infused slime.
A possibility occurred before she could send it off to purify a random patch of abyssal soil; it was such a sweet idea she wanted to pursue it at once; if only she didn’t have two deities waiting. Planar Shift returned her to the Outlands, and she cleaned off the abyssal residue before teleporting to meet them.
Moradin and Týr halted mid-exchange to greet her, and then Moradin gestured to the spire’s peak. “You’ll need to open a Gate; travelling independently, we’ll not end up in the same region of Judgement.”
“I hope this works,” admitted Amdirlain. “I’m terrified it will end with him resurrected, with no memories of us.”
“Even if that is the case, it will give him a fresh start, unburdened by corruption or malice,” consoled Týr.
The Gate opened to reveal a mist-covered cloud bank, and Amdirlain nervously stepped through. Within the surrounding mists there wasn’t a figure to be seen, a pre-dawn stillness weighed the atmosphere. Once the others joined her, Amdirlain allowed the Gate to close.
“None of the regions I’ve visited has been so quiet and gloomy,” observed Amdirlain.
“We’ve arrived in a nascent world’s region,” advised Moradin. “It’s likely because of either the variety or the cleansed state of the souls you carry. How someone sees a living world’s region depends on the nature of the person visiting.”
Remembering how Lêdhins had perceived it on their first visit, Amdirlain nodded and released the souls she’d collected. Their crystallised forms were stacked into a natural pyramid before her.
As the wait stretched, they could only endure it with patience and hope a Servant would appear. When the form of one emerged from the mist, they’d been kept waiting nearly two hours. As it approached, the Servant’s gears shifted and spun within its transparent humanoid shell; each gear’s motion melded into other dimensions as they churned. Taking in its song, Amdirlain listened to how they functioned, its connection to the sealed spire, and the concepts in play. Even the outside layers that Amdirlain could make out went far beyond what she’d handled with Nolmar’s creation.
Drawing out the spheres containing the trio, she presented them to the Servant.
Without a word of prompting, the Servant shook its head. “They entered the Abyss knowing it posed an extreme risk to them. Why should these three receive aid when others who fell not of their own doing did not?”
“It was only through challenges, luck, and our efforts we captured them and cleansed them of corruption. I didn’t tell the fellows of those others not to strive harder to recover them,” argued Amdirlain.
“They have Redemption’s Path or a Deity’s Trial,” countered the Servant.
“You mentioned only two options. Is the Jade Court’s path to enlightenment not viable?” enquired Amdirlain.
“No, it is not. The demons under the purview of the Jade Court’s Hell are neither devils nor demons as you know them,” the Servant advised, and it crouched to collect the redeemed souls. “Is that all of your enquiries answered now?”
“I’m willing to make restitution for these three to be purified by the Titan,” declared Amdirlain.
The Servant's hands jerked back. “You’re surrendering your control over Redemption’s Path for these three?”
Amdirlain’s gaze narrowed at the wording. “Yes. Is it possible to surrender it for more?”
“Some he doesn’t believe should even have a chance on the path as it is,” rebuffed the Servant.
“Can I surrender it for celestials that were forced or tricked into a Transformation Site?” enquired Amdirlain.
“Those that have met such a fate are demons—not Fallen—and beyond reclamation. Your friend’s intercession with Luck was timely, though all it did was avert the worst of his failure and yours. You should have held him to that initial promise not to venture through the Abyss except together.”
Amdirlain winced and gave a sharp nod. “A promise that we made because he was concerned for my safety.”
“While it was a mutual failure, his was greater for ignoring your repeated warnings. The work required for these three will be substantial. If you wish to change the current path for others, you’ll need to regain a substantial part of your former strength,” reproved the Servant.
“Can I surrender it for me?” Amdirlain enquired
“No,” sighed the Servant. “If that were possible, he would have told you when you left the Maze. You are accountable by these rules, despite your denial of her past. All are accountable.”
“Even the Titan is accountable to the rules of the realm,” nodded Amdirlain. “What can I offer to balance these three?”
“Gideon has told me you should focus Analysis on Amdirlain’s Cheques to see what your arse needs to cash,” advised the Servant. “I don’t know what they mean by that vulgarity.”
“Of all the musical references they could have picked,” grumbled Amdirlain.
Analysis showed a list that started with killing three unspecified demon lords and spun on through thousands of tasks. It included eliminating some demonic species, changing Mortal ones, and creating new environmental conditions. The musical notations below each showed the melodies of the target planets or planes and the songs involved in the work.
It was a lot to take in, as the list continued to blur past in her mind. One thing she picked up was that none of the work touched any of the seventy-one planets she’d reclaimed from Orcus. When the list finally halted, she used Analysis again, and as far as she could tell, the same list presented itself again, except for a note at the end.
[Note: Do you want me to add to it straight away?
I had to dumb down the interface already, simple minds and all that.]
Yeah, but you’re the interface.
“All of that list?” asked Amdirlain.
“I do not know what is on the list,” the Servant advised.
“How long do I have?”
“Less than a year, and then the work will begin, in one fashion or another,” warned the Servant. “Be advised, Torm might never recall you, and you may never see him again. Do you still wish to proceed?”
“What are the chances we’ll see them again?” enquired Amdirlain.
“Too many factors are involved for any firm prediction,” advised the Servant. “If requesting this for only one of them would change the odds, what would you do?”
Amdirlain sighed and held out the three spheres. “No, I won’t do that. It’s an equal chance for all three.”
The Servant took the spheres from her. “Týr, one of these was formerly your servant. Do you release it from any obligation to you?”
“Yes, I just want for him the best chance for a fresh start,” agreed Týr.
“We will contact the other lieges, but organising payment is in Amdirlain’s hands now,” advised the Servant.
In a rush of energy, the Servant and the souls vanished, its charade of needing to gather them exposed.
“I’ve got a lot of work to do,” murmured Amdirlain, and she mentally ran through the list again. “And I still need to remove the formithians from Votari. Thank you both. I best get back to Xaos and analyse this list to see what I can clear the fastest.”
“I noticed it said organising payment is in your hands, not that you must fulfil it yourself. If there is anything on that list that doesn’t require True Song, please advise me,” requested Týr.
Amdirlain reluctantly nodded. “There is some, but I want to sort it out first. Gideon has told me it’s easier to destroy than create, so I believe the acts of creation will provide them with the best chance. Even some destruction will require True Song, as I don’t know another way to get the Abyss to cease spawning certain demons.”
“Changing the site's conditions sufficiently so its emotional weight changes,” advised Moradin. “It's challenging but not unheard of to achieve. One last thing, just because some items can be done with True Song, doesn’t mean we can’t do it without it.”
After exchanging farewells, Amdirlain let Planar Shift take her to the outskirts of Xaos.
Titan’s Forge Room
The Servant’s approach with the souls weighed on Nicholaus but not as much as the trio of former celestials it carried. “She released these three from her redemption requirements but wished no favouritism between them.”
Gideon moved to hover above the forge, and its flames sent rainbows reflecting off their facets. The knowledge they shared allowed Nicholaus to use his father’s gift to seek a moment in time, and he caught them in the instant before the site took hold.
Among the three, Nicholaus focused on Torm first. “Know that I’m speaking to a manifestation of your past nature. Your current self became mauled by corruption and scarred by distorted beliefs. Your time in this state is short. This is not a denial of doom but a chance to contribute to your restoration.”
“May I ask a question?” Torm immediately asked.
Nicholaus’ gaze bored into Torm. “I don’t enjoy talking to many, so it depends on the question.”
The Planetar didn’t back down, but he nodded in respect. “Is Amdirlain well?”
Torm’s question caused Nicholaus’ expression to tighten. “She is strong, yet hurt, whole and torn. She pushed to help you and your allies, but it was beyond her strength.”
Torm bodily flinched, but it didn’t stop his immediate reply. “I choose whatever route will help Amdirlain the most. Will I remember her?”
“She removed those memories from your future self because he’d twisted them beyond recognition,” advised Nicholaus reluctantly. He’d been furious with Torm’s choice but found himself unwilling to inflict harm on the shade of the Celestial his daughter loved. “The purification will be of your future self who no longer has those memories.”
Torm flinched. “Is there a way I- he can get them back?”
“Even if you’d never see her again and never leave this forge?” enquired Nicholaus.
Nicholaus allowed Torm to understand the room he was in, not from malice but from a need to gauge his conviction. Across the forge room, aspects and other beings were busy forging the conceptual details for thousands of worlds.
“To aid her, I would,” declared Torm.
Nicholaus released Torm from his focus, and the past self vanished before he moved on to interrogate the other two. When Nicholaus was done, he set the final sphere aside and considered the golden Anar souls on the nearby shelves.
“Are you going to make him do the grunt work?” asked Gideon.
“He would never have been close to her equal climbing the Celestial routes,” muttered Nicholaus.
“True.”
Nicholaus considered the tiny sphere form Gideon had taken on to hover above the forge. “Why did you set a healing price I don’t need? She might not consider herself Orhêthurin, but that’s beside the point. All you had to do was advise her to relinquish control over their path, Gideon. She bears too much of Orhêthurin’s guilt and grief over how this realm turned out.”
“Amdirlain asked for the price, so I gave her a list of tasks to match her expectation,” advised Gideon. “It’s something for her to focus on and take the edge off her grief. Otherwise, things might go astray, not to mention take aeons. Also, everything on that list will help her towards being able to create a living world from scratch, though I bet it will take her time to figure it out. Details being missed under the weight of impending doom and all that.”
“She takes on more than is hers to correct,” grumbled Nicholaus.
“Maybe, but I set it because I know her, and she needs sharp-cut goals. Whenever I’ve taken a jab at her, she's bled rage and motivation,” argued Gideon. “Amdirlain thrives most off fighting against obstacles, not taking the gentle route she’s convinced herself to take.”
“She was catching her breath,” chided Nicholaus.
“Please, she had over two decades of that,” retorted Gideon. “Yeah, she worked persistently, but she wasn’t in significant danger most of the time. There was plenty of space to run and hide on that Plane, and she’s protected by her Hidden status when not jabbing herself with daggers.”
Nicholaus’ gaze drifted past some figures at the end of a shelf, and they disappeared.
“You’re having Lómë give birth to Anar?”
“Only the re-born Soul and the power of the mother matter for my daughter’s singers,” reminded Nicholaus, and he turned his head to one side. “Why are you asking questions you already know the answer to?”
“I know the answers to everything once it has occurred, including that you’ve been too quiet of late,” explained Gideon.
“Alkibiades,” intoned Nicholaus, ignoring Gideon’s dig.
A figure composed of swirling black sand, surrounded by auras of lightning, blackness, and blistering winds, appeared beside him. “Yes.”
“Will you cast these Fallen free from among your servants?”
Alkibiades glanced at the sphere that imprisoned Torm. “Even for Orhêthurin, there would need to be redress.”
“Your price?” enquired Nicholaus.
“I can claim the energy from all the classes he progressed, and you release six minor entities of my choosing,” offered Alkibiades.
“You can claim the energy from all the classes that the trio progressed and use one tool,” countered Nicholaus.
“The energy and four,” haggled Alkibiades.
Nicholaus shook his head, and his horns caused shadows to dance about, “Two.”
“The energy and three,” probed Alkibiades.
“There is symmetry in that, so yes, but nothing above a new Demon Lord’s strength,” replied Nicholaus, his gaze narrowing. “And nothing close to Moloch’s initial transformation.”
“Agreed,” accepted Alkibiades.
Alkibiades vanished with a huff, and Nicholaus started the work. Dipping into Torm’s essence, he found the moment of corruption and started to invigorate what was there before. With Gideon’s guidance, Nicholaus delicately separated the mauled existence that came after the site. Once that was done, he sliced all the classes and species growth from both parts free, the acts of removal allowing Alkibiades to claim the energies.
“You have a path of evolution for the Anar planned?” enquired Nicholaus, purely to make conversation as he worked.
“Of course, I’ve got dozens I can dust off; none of them ever earned one,” reminded Gideon unnecessarily. “The chances are remote for Gail or the formerly Torm unless Amdirlain can grow enough to restore the original True Song’s pathways.”
Nicholaus hummed off-key as he heated the Celestial-essence-turned-Soul within the forge. Aware that he’d been considering a fate for Torm that he’d feared would be his daughter’s in the Maze, he subtly altered the approach. Instead of the memories becoming seeds of wisdom, they formed hidden layers within the Soul. The chance was remote, but if the reborn Soul managed the right deeds and achievements, he'd unlock them and in time reclaim all his untainted memories. Torm’s former progression in skills and levels was gone, but the Soul could excel or not on the merits of its future life. Letting energy in through the forge, Nicholaus slowly turned the white Human Soul towards Gold.
“I bet he takes multiple lives,” grumbled Nicholaus.
Gideon chimed. “Why did you decide to do the work before Amdirlain pays up?”
“There was no need to charge her,” growled Nicholaus, and he had to moderate the energy he was passing through the forge. “She doesn’t consider herself my daughter, but Ori- Amdirlain is all I’ve left of her mother; my feelings do not end with Amdirlain’s decision to stand on her own.”
Gideon hovered closer to the flames. “You know that artistic layering you did will make his recovering memories hard?”
“There will be hints to let him know there is more if he works hard, but I’ve hidden it from all others. The chance is slim, but he can earn his original memories,” huffed Nicholaus.
Gideon hummed. “He’s not likely to get even a hint of his old memories until he’s got a hundred or more levels with the conditions you’ve put in place.”
“That’ll be enough experience under his belt so he’ll have the self-confidence to walk his own path. It would not do for Amdirlain to know he is reborn; he must earn his memories of Amdirlain by himself and decide a course,” Nicholaus said, carefully adjusting the mingling energy.
“He’ll be a blank slate, not a typical Anar,” observed Gideon.
“Some Anar will never return, and we’ve lost many Lómë forever through Balnérith’s plotting. I’ll need to rebalance their numbers, but I’ll release other new Anar souls before him,” advised Nicholaus. “Figure out a time to let Amdirlain know which primordials he releases from their shackles. They’ll be something to sharpen her edge against, and others shouldn’t profit from my daughter’s pain.”
“In a way, we are,” noted Gideon.
Nicholaus sighed. “I had let her go, Gideon. Now she’s back, it’s also a danger to her, and there aren’t aeons available.”
Gideon bobbed in place and then vanished, leaving Nicholaus to focus on the tasks at hand.
Comments
Gopard
Thanks for the chapter!
Inzuris
Tftc
