Codename: Low Borea: Firestorm
Cult activity connected to the royal family. Day 3. Search main arena for warp flows.
To be modified & updated by Codicier Francois
The dark! It comes again. Warp energies swirling and engulfing tiny, flickering candle lights of life. Extinguished one at a time or a few together. Flowing. Serving. Consuming. Their life energies, their soul stuff… sorceries’ ravenous hunger. They are all about the city, collecting. We must go now! Go to the center.
We flee our haven, for nowhere is safe now. Hunter or hunted, they came upon our heels unstealthy as baying hounds. Neither greed nor sloth stayed their rushing feet. We turned upon them, or they caught us; hunted or hunter. This clash of arms, I feel the power welling. I seize the warp flows here where the veil begins to weaken and I… explode!
Bursts of flame, barely controlled, as orgasms of destruction. Foes, only foes, fall in cinders upon the street. The dark is banished before my flames. No waking nightmares tread upon my mind now. I am become the nightmare released!
We press on, down into the bowels below the main circle where daily violence and blood rend the ylem of reality. A guide, killed for a candle in service of the Emperor, leads us deep to where they wait. Wastrels of the king’s men, and of Oxenfell, and others beside stand heretic before us and bar our passage to the last chambers where evil lurks. They burn.
Here the veil is weak, and my desires are strong, and they burn. A sorcerer now comes and denies the cleansing flame. I am beside myself with righteous fury. But he falls to sword and lead before my rising tempo conflagrates everything. My sight grows dim as the scratching horrors from beyond babble inchoate within my innermost ear. I dare not burn any more from here lest the dam burst and the gibbering tide rage across the verdant land.
I must chant the litany, for I came from death and shall return one day to her bosom. All else between are but dreams and can hold no terrors for me. That is what I must believe, for otherwise, without the shielding flame, this living nightmare shall feast.
Close down. Down the mind. Mind into a shell. Shell of darkness. NonoNonOnonooOoo…
Debriefing Interview of Arcadia Null, Acolyte.
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