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 Post subject: [RP] [ BELIAL ENDGAME: HEAVEN'S GATE. Shaughnessy's Role. ]
PostPosted: Mon Apr 04, 2016 7:46 pm 
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E N D G A M E:

The Rituals to the Rites of Divine Ingression & Engression. Shaughnessy's Contribution to the Empire's Final War Gambit.


(These segments follow the deeds of the adventurer's who accompany Drenai, yet offer no 'spoilers' or forced happenings. It has been lovely creating with you all, feel free to acknowledge whatever you see in this post in your own during live play, as I could not be present, but put this together for you as my contribution to SUPPORT the amazing things you have done and will do. Much love. I'll be back after my honeymoon!)




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DAY 1:

Preparations had been made, dire rituals had been practiced and repeated time and again so that their motions were set not only to mental recollection, but muscle memory as well. Little energy would need to be wasted toward recalling the proper movements and order of things, saving it all for the difficult drain the ritual itself would bring to bear.

Shaughnessy, Heiress to the Empire, where he other illustrious siblings and kin had taken different paths in their mighty lives, carving out their unique histories just as she did, regarded the Arch-Priestess Synthia with reverence and readiness. They'd been preparing for their very different parts in all this, but parts that were in parallel enough that they'd been orchestrating how best to perform their rites near to one another to best ensure no unforeseen interference in one another's efforts.

Synthia's part was the primary: Open the gate.

Shaughnessy's was to create a spiritual anchor to those in her father's party, that they might be able to return through that gate from the divine plane.

Each woman went about their process for setting up their space, and specific to Shaughnessy, she laid a white swath of cotton over the ground where she would kneel. Once there, she gave a final glance up to each of those who so bravely volunteered to follow her father, their Emperor, into dangers unknown. She was grateful to all of them, and her heart swelled with a moment of pride and love for them each in their own unique facet.

"Stay with me." She chimed, which would become more clear to them once her ritual had produced what she intended it to. "Your Arch-Priestess is your way in and out. I will anchor your essences to this world so that when you do come back to the door she will hold open for you," A brief, trusting glance toward Synthia ere she looked back to the company. "It will not merely be an impassable window back home. You will see an image of me with you, but it is not me. It is merely your lifeline. Returning from spiritual places into wholly living planes is never an easy task. However, do not worry about that, my niece and I, we shall bring you home. Just go win back the day."


With that, and a final glance to her father that sharpened with assurance in him, she began the meticulous steps to her specific ritual.


So, at last, donning the Crystal Crown she'd brought with her, not merely for appearances, but for the mystical properties it possessed...



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Shaughnessy's part in the process of her specific ritual began with a piece of herself...



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And Blood Was A Good Sacrifice... thus, she gave her own into a vessel from which every adventurer would be required to touch, like holy water, ere they could enter that divine place and EVER expect to return to Larlandarl. She was their living anchor to this world, for no passage into divine or profane planes ever made for an easy return trip.



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The visions Sophia had given to Shaughnessy, as expertly translated by her sister, Eione, began to play out into reality, blurring in her mind as the process gradually claimed more of her mind into a meditative, spiritual place. Her body would remain here, in the physical world, but something of herself had to accompany them, to remain attached between here and there.



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A ghostly image of Shaughnessy began to materialize, coalescing as if made of fog and reverie. This image possessed cherub-like wings as had never been seen upon the true, living Shaughnessy nearby. It was all an illusion, a combination image of her true self and the expectation of what a Nephilim entering a divine domain might look like. The illusion was the lifeline tied to her father's party, so that whenever they returned to the portal, this anchor to the living could usher them back through. The illusion smiled, but there was no sound, no utterance, not even the normal subtle brush of clothing or hair amid air currents. It further underlined that this was merely an illusion, one that would follow them wherever they went, but could provide no aid of any kind, save for its one purpose: Bring them through the portal back to the living world. Back home. If the party ever split up, the illusionary image of the winged Shaughnessy would follow her father.

To Shaughnessy's meditative mind, whose body sat tranquil nearby and ignorant to the world moving around her now, the wings, the transformation, felt real in her mind. It had to to animate the projection with the greatest force and potency.



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When the time came to walk through the portal, the illusionary-Shaughnessy demonstrated no fear of the daunting task, for she was not 'real.' She was the first to go, the 'canary' in a way, where the true-Shaughnessy, even in her meditative state, might give sign of terrors untold with tension or recoil about her body. But none came. That did not mean that anything was safe or easy. It could even mean nothing at all. This was all purely new territory for them all. Who would dare risk the next step through? From living, 'mortal' plane, to that of spiritual and divine? Perhaps the ingress therein would be easier than their attempts to depart...


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The illusionary-Shaughnessy began to materialize now in the divine realm, only a projection. Deaf, blind, without power to aid them. Her only 'sense' was that of her proximity to Drenai and those who had dabbed the blood, connecting them to the ritualistic, spiritual anchor that illusion was truly there as.


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Fully materialized, her mannerisms could mislead those to believe it was truly the lighthearted and caring Shaughnessy there with them, such was the painstaking care poured into the ritual, but she was too aloof and carefree in this place to really be a living thing. Not even a ghost. Only their anchor, projected so accurately to the living mannerisms of their Princess.


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DAY 2:


The illusionary-Shaughnessy merely 'looked on' with blind eyes through any trials and death that might have befallen her father's company. Someone might have died and fallen through her ghostly feet, to find no reaction from the image. Perhaps this was the manifestation of the true-Shaughnessy's fears about the stars: One day she might become immaterial and cold, distant as an uncaring star. But the truth of it was, this projection was the product of immense care, for her father, her family, the Empire. For those she loved, for those who deserved a right to persist through their chosen life paths not overshadowed by demonic darkness. The true-Shaughnessy's prophetic, unclear fears about finding her place in a heavenly place in a starry grave proved wholly ironic. For this was a pure product of love after all.


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When the adventurers returned to the location of the portal, it was time for Shaughnessy, back in the physical plane of Larlandarl where the ritual had anchored them all, to expel the most energy she'd ever given toward any effort in her life. The image she'd cast to follow near to her father and his companions began to mimic the motions of the true form of Shaughnessy beyond the portal. Though the illusionary vision of the woman still made no sounds of any kind, no words, not even the whispers of rustling clothing or colliding strands of hair as they fell about her shoulders amid her ritualistic gestures. Synthia had kept the gateway open, this door between planes, and Shaughnessy's spirit would drag them back through it to the wholly living world they all knew. Back Home. When she gestured to them, they could each choose to pass through at the timing they elected, though some expediency was likely prudent in situations as precarious as this. If any had been lost, left behind, or fallen in the battle, the illusionary-Shaughnessy did not seem to demonstrate awareness of it. After all, the image was only a projection, without senses, made to follow near to them, and echoed the movements of life, but in the end, it was only an elaborate lifeline between planes with a familiar design.


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As the last adventurer connected to the projection stepped through the portal, immense fatigue struck even the face of the illusionary Shaughnessy, echoing the drained body of the true woman who'd pulled them, living, back through. As they walked back into the physical world, back through the other side of the portal, fatigue-inebriated violet eyes found them with distant relief. Then her frail, diminutive body crumpled toward the floor unconscious, medics to confirm she'd slipped into a coma.


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Her part had been fulfilled. Sophia withdrew her lingering consciousness from the woman who'd been her vessel for so long now.


And she was the Avatar of Light no longer.



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