Amdirlain’s PoV - Ijmti

The pair seemed uncertain about what to make of her calm response; then the Eldest turned his gaze towards Dagrastûr. “Please see to the assignment of a mentor.”

“I’ve got a project I need to finish before working with the Cloister more closely,” Amdirlain calmly informed them. “I’m sure this isn’t normal for someone seeking Redemption’s Path, but getting myself settled on the path needs to wait.”

Eldest frowned, but Dagrastûr got in first. “Am is currently tracking a Celestial changed into a Fallen by a Transformation Site.”

The statement caused the Eldest to start almost fully upright, their coiled arms unrolling as if to lash out in surprise. “Am is your name?”

“Just a reference that Roher knows me by,” informed Amdirlain. “The Fallen is a long story, and I’ve already used time here that I’d prefer to invest in finding him. I’ve summarised the situation to Dagrastûr.”

“Very well,” conceded the Eldest. “Dagrastûr, please see Am out past the wards to where she can travel freely. Ensure she’s proficient at using the pendant to communicate with us.”

“Thank you. I’ll likely come back here via the trials,” commented Amdirlain.

“May you find the heavens’ grace again, Am,” intoned the Eldest.

With that dismissal, Dagrastûr motioned her towards the exit, but Amdirlain respectfully nodded before she moved to leave.

As they ascended through the shaft, Dagrastûr tapped the pendant at his throat. “We’re not sure how they manage it, but if you form the mental image of an individual or individuals who possess pendants for a few minutes, it lets you converse. Once the person who started the conversation releases the image, the link breaks.”

“The people must have the pendants on them, or be wearing them?”

“Be wearing them,” confirmed Dagrastûr, glancing meaningfully at her neck.

“It’s hidden under my skin, not in storage, if that was a hint,” commented Amdirlain. “Care to try?”

When Dagrastûr did, Amdirlain caught the sensation of True Song buzzing beneath her skin and turned Resonance on again. The vibration from the pendant continued for a few seconds, and though Dagrastûr’s lips stayed closed, she heard his voice in a whisper. “Can you hear me?”

The music that carried the words came from below, making it likely the plinth, or whatever issued the pendant, handled the communications.

“Just as a whisper,” replied Amdirlain, examining the wisp of music linking them to the plinth.

“That’s as loud as it gets,” clarified Dagrastûr, and the vibration stopped.

“I can see what you meant by its limitations,” noted Amdirlain. “Useful, but drawbacks related to the time to start, volume, and one person controlling the link. If someone’s trying to chat to you in the middle of a fight, hard to hear what they’re trying to tell you.”

“It's not useful for coordinating on a battlefield,” confirmed Dagrastûr. “More a tool for when things are quiet, or for group discussions, like coordinating watch schedules.”

“If you need me, call, but I’ll likely be busy for a while,” cautioned Amdirlain. “With the three Fallen to purge of corruption, and needing to be somewhere with lots of sunlight for a time.”

Her admission drew a frown from Dagrastûr. “The Cloister normally doesn’t aid a member’s access to a world until we know-”

Amdirlain cut him off with a laugh. “If I want out on a world, I know a bunch I can get onto right now. Nothing alive, but a lot of sunlight, and some might be a good idea when I need to push myself. No, I’ve other plans.”

“Plans you’ll not share?”

“No, but I’ll see if I can come up with an option besides the crystals to help,” promised Amdirlain. “After experiencing the judgement, I’ll have to see if the Celestial in charge will accept help from the Cloister.”

Her mention of talking to a Celestial had Dagrastûr regarding her in surprise. “What is the nature of this crusade?”

“Sorry, not yet; I don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up,” declined Amdirlain, and she glanced down a passageway off the shaft at the sound of clashing weapons. “Training level?”

“One of a number within our facility,” Dagrastûr confirmed before reverting to the subject Amdirlain had sought to avoid. “They might not accept help from the Cloister, but they’d accept your help?”

“It's a matter of being careful of who you trust, just like in sharing names,” explained Amdirlain.

The trip out was uneventful, and Amdirlain soon stood close to where they’d arrived.

“Positive Material Plane for Life Resistance?” asked Amdirlain.

“It’s an option. The trials should lead you along routes that will strengthen needed resistances if you’ve got the patience.”

“And if I don’t, the path will be too much‌?” asked Amdirlain, though his wording raised another question. “Should lead me through places?”

“It will be interesting to see if the seeker stones will send you to the next stage when you're already in possession of a pendant,” admitted Dagrastûr. “The ones I know about that skipped the trial didn’t need its help to gain any resistances.”

“I guess I’ll find out; at least it should help me gain one I need,” replied Amdirlain, and she gave a respectful nod before she used her Planar Shift Power instead of a Spell to move.

[Planar Shift (Self) [B](20) -> [Ap] (1)]

Though she’d focused on arriving near Hrz’Styrn’s Portal to Ternòx, her arrival point in the foothills didn’t even have the Portal in sight. Her pattern of using spells and only particular combinations of skills had left others to stagnate; now, with a margin of safety reestablished, Amdirlain was determined to experiment. With no movement evident in the small ravine she’d arrived in, Amdirlain continued with the testing.

Focused as she was on the critical nodes within her phoenix pattern’s wings, Ki Flight somewhat awkwardly bore her aloft. Though she’d raised the Power into the advanced levels, it still didn’t possess the same speed or manoeuvrability as Flight. Mentally laughing at herself for the critical review of an ability that in her former life would have been a wonder to possess, Amdirlain started to practice. Amid the brownish-grey foothills covered with scraggly bushes and twisted trees, Amdirlain picked a random direction and set to it.

After the first hour of skimming between trees and rocks in breakneck manoeuvres, Amdirlain started to mentally dust off plans set aside while the Planar Lock was in place. Her body blurred and compressed, although she continued to race along faster than a cavalry charge. Flapping the smaller wings of the Quasit form didn’t aid her progress in the air, but she kept up with the standard behaviour for the wizened demons, barely the size of a toddler, supported typically by their Flight Power and batlike wings.

Her wings flattened out and, diving between the bare branches, Amdirlain twisted through a forward tumble roll and landed on the crest of a ridge. She only took a moment to examine the course of the next pockmarked ravine before she teleported away. Amdirlain had aimed to appear on the boulder she’d perched while studying the Sisterhood Fortress decades ago, reality had other plans. With the rock long gone, Amdirlain appeared in mid-air and nearly went sprawling across the dusty ground. Her reaction time let her catch herself with Flight just before she face-planted, and she let out an indignant hiss.

Claws digging into the rocky soil, she gazed towards the fortress held by the Sisterhood. The place was reasonably unchanged in the time that had passed; only incidentals had shifted—the angles of readied siege weaponry and the locations of those patrolling the outer wall. Looking over them, Amdirlain grinned; the tonnes of diamonds Sarah had grown for an abandoned plan bloomed in her mind with an objective.

The sheer randomness of the destruction against unknown demons had felt like a waste of unrealised potential. Here though, against the Sisterhood, the potential gleamed for a razor-edged strike, but didn’t yet feel complete.

Bursts of energy around the higher towers showed a drill in progress. The flicker of that memory didn’t hold Amdirlain's attention; instead, she focused on the rocky ground and extracted a rock mass. With all her practice, establishing a chamber far underground was a routine matter. After creating a long corridor on the side facing the Sisterhood’s castle, she set off a hundred diggers, cutting two-metre-wide hallways with a bare metre of separation between each.

Blasting its wards apart wouldn’t be an option with no energy source so readily available, but Amdirlain was looking forward to unleashing a new surprise. Obliteration wasn’t an option since she needed access to the chamber where she’d encountered Leviathan’s blood. A matter she’d long held tucked away among her plans nudged at her; Precognition gave her a sense of opportunity rather than danger for the first time.

The flare of potential brought with it an insight that caused the whole Skill to brighten in her mind as pieces slotted into place. The permutations that the path’s judgement had run also clicked into place and added a jolt. Though she’d mainly used the techniques within Clairsentience to supplement Danger Sense, the insight made it clear it could do so much more.

[Clairsentience [M] (75->78)

Note: Greater insight achieved; you can have a cookie. Erwarth’s attempt to train you not to brute force solutions might finally pay off. Yeah, right, who am I kidding?]

Holding in a huff of disgust, Amdirlain scried the domed chamber that had contained her first summoning circle and discovered it was still intact. Though the others had changed her primitive circle before they’d used it, they’d left the circle in place, though dust-coated.

Transforming into a pebble, she teleported again to sit smoothly along the perimeter of the fortress’ wards. With Resonance focused into a blade of intent, Amdirlain stretched through the fortress wards. For hours, she took in the songs of thousands of succubi that crossed the narrow band. Separating their aspects, she identified the themes of their classes and even isolated the different music contained within the irregulars’ glyph compared to the full sisters.

Yet the irregulars’ presence stirred at her, and pieces of another plan clicked into place. A Planar Shift Spell took her precisely to where she’d wanted to be—settled among storage shelves whose niches contained the needed gear.

Distributing a layer of diamonds within ten empty chests, she placed a false bottom to conceal their presence and poured abyssal steel coins filled with rage on top. While unaware of anything that could detect True Song—except for Resonance—she had no intention of spoiling the trap with someone glancing in.

The crystal buried in the chest’s lid received conditions to teleport diamonds into the throat of random sisters with complete sigils and a few careful exclusion loopholes. If she’d needed the Sisterhood's uniform appearance as a disguise, Amdirlain wanted to avoid shooting an ‘own goal’ again.

Naamah.

The name of Ebusuku’s grandmother and the primogen of a Succubus lineage from which all the irregulars descended came to mind. Her very name was a promise from long ago had Amdirlain dwelling on it and, in doing so, brought forth memories, including some that were very unexpected. That Orhêthurin had cut her from Lilith’s belly to bring her screaming into the realm wasn’t even the biggest of surprises—the stubborn child had wanted to stay within, holding onto the interior of her mother’s womb with unsheathed claws. Conceived sensing all the essence of Death, the still-innocent being had wanted to stay where her life had begun.

Life’s choices had taken her from the Infernal reaches where Lilith still lived. She’d stayed in Gehenna, and even Hades for a time, eventually settling within the Abyss before the first Demon had spawned. Despite the slowly growing corruption, the limitless wild potential of the place's Primordial energies drew her. Naamah had mated with whatever beings took her fancy—many just for the bizarreness of the experience—but every child she’d birthed had come forth a Succubus.

When some abyssal primordials had rung the death knell of many of their species with the experiment that had formed the first Demon, Naamah had been there to bear witness and laugh at the lure of death that had drawn her there. Billions of powerful beings had died when their experimenting with corrupted souls had finally borne tainted fruit.

The first demons had been minor things with a few random powers, but the chaos of the Abyss had exploded that potential. Souls throughout the abyssal regions transformed in a tidal wave of malice. The weight of numbers had brought down those that had sought to raise themselves to be gods over their experiments and killed hundreds of other species alongside them. Uncountable hordes of weak, newly gestated demons had perished daily in the centuries of fighting, but so many had grown strong in the forge of that conflict.

The name she’d learnt long ago twisted within the scrying Spell, and despite Amdirlain's Willpower, the formation repeatedly shattered before it finally settled in place.

The scene before her screamed of Ijmti, though the song was inaudible through the Spell. The baneful nebulas alone seemed a unique feature.

Set against that backdrop was a naked Succubus, pacing on a ledge that overlooked the lush forest. The blackness of pure ebony formed skin that drank in the nebulae’s light, the gleam of white from her teeth and eyes made those features pop in her rage-twisted expression. Her skin’s colour was almost uniform; the only places of a lighter hue were bands that showed around her wrists and neck. Her brown irises looked Human but promised to be the earth of the viewer's grave.

Coils of black hair formed into bristles, which initially seemed an artificial cap over her scalp. The clean lines of her forehead, the broad curve of her nose, and the wide strong cheekbones all proclaimed a mixture of hunger and strength. Her face's tight lines led past generous lips to a rounded chin. Though lean, her body still possessed feminine curves that would have been alluring to the modern eye. Firm breasts, with nipples already hard as if inviting a lover’s attention, and well-curved hips. Hairless, except for the cap covering her scalp, her flowing movements seem a continual prelude to sex that the flexing muscles promised would last for days.

Naamah glared straight at the scrying focal point as if she could see Amdirlain through it; her lips curled back, and her teeth became jagged.

“Go away. I have permission to hunt.”

Her words were spat out in hard abyssal inflections that promised torment and battered against the fortification of Amdirlain’s Willpower, trying to spill over.

[Mental Hardening [S] (26 -> 28)]

Despite fending off the impact, Amdirlain let the scrying window close and rethought her plan completely. She’d intended to avoid involving anyone, but there was one who might get through to her.

“Ebusuku, can you please Message Naamah? She’s outside a Sisterhood ward, and I need to speak to her. I tried to scry her, but she wasn't happy—I’ll need an introduction.”

A few minutes later, a reply came back, and Ebusuku’s voice cracked.

“Take the greatest of care with whatever you're planning, Amdirlain. We just got you free, and she’s nothing like me. I’ve sent her a Message, but there is no way for her to reply. Give her time to calm down and try again if you must, but one false step and she’ll crush you. Don’t let her see you or come close to you unless you are sure of your safety.”

Amdirlain cursed and sent another Message. “Sorry, I was setting up to take action against the Sisterhood, and Precognition warned me of a window of opportunity. I’ll need her help, or information, and I’m unsure if the opportunity will come again.”

Grabbing a block three metres by three from out beyond the dome, Amdirlain set it before the circle and carved a greeting including Naamah’s name. With a chest at the circle’s mid-point, Amdirlain teleported into the space she’d created with the block’s removal and transformed herself into a pebble again. It was an escalation of the approach she used contacting Erwarth and the others, and she could only hope it would bear fruit.

The Gate formed within the circle, opposed by a screaming pressure of hate and blood-thirsty will, even though Amdirlain wasn’t summoning her. It almost immediately shattered when it snapped into existence, but Amdirlain held it in place.

Listening to the murderous fury that made up Naamah’s melodies, she almost dispelled it before Naamah laughed and read Amdirlain’s greeting aloud.

“Naamah, it's been a few years since I freed Eleftherios. Has he been in contact?” said Naamah. “Such a bold introduction. If you’re trying to trick me, you should know that circle won’t hold me if I come through to kill you.”

Amdirlain stripped the stone from the front of the block and carved another message. “Not a trick. Do you always have to do Balnérith’s dirty work?”

“Who are you?” snapped Naamah, but her tone and song cooled with mercurial speed.

“I won’t say. I need some time to listen to the music in Leviathan’s blood. Ebusuku said Balnérith had used it to bind you, but I hadn’t expected it to still be present on you.”

Naamah gave a pleased grunt. “Music? My hunting time got interesting, but what’s in it for me?”

“I can’t promise you anything. After all, I might breach some rule that’s in place. The chest contains special gifts for the Sisterhood. Do your oaths prevent you from giving them gifts?”

“Why would I want to deliver them anything of value?” snarled Naamah, though the heat had returned to her tone, the melody within her filled with cutting-edged notes.

“Some gifts keep on giving, and others get used up quickly. Your father could distribute short-lived gifts at a glance. Staring at my scrying point, you promised the same gifts.”

“Word games are such fun. I’ll claim your gift for the Sisterhood and see what occurs. I’m forbidden from harming myself, but surely picking up a gift is safe,” snickered Naamah, and a Spell had the chest leap from the circle and land at her feet. “The night is pleasant; perhaps I’ll sit and watch the stars for a time. While I do that, what you listen to is not my business. I had to cut out memories recently; should I also cut this one out? Can you show me something that proves I should?”

Once again, Amdirlain removed the words and carved the Titan’s crest into the stone. True Song filled the gaps in with gleaming mithril, and Naamah hissed. “An interesting symbol that few would dare use, and True Song’s glow. Not what I was expecting, but it certainly holds promises of so much fun. My father told me about someone freeing him, though I had removed their name from my memory to ensure she couldn’t get it. If that’s you, I was sure you’d be coming to squash her into a pulp.”

That tempted Amdirlain to utilise the plinth's song that linked the pendants to talk to Naamah, but she held off. Amdirlain carved her response below Titan’s symbol. “I plan to, but first, some things need removing.”

“I was recently given an interesting order about one called J. You shouldn’t tell me if that’s you. The ugly bitch got a pendant off a Fallen that she used to determine an Anar was involved in destroying her book. Something about traces of Soul energy matching the crystal, yet not the Lómë’s barrier,” prattled Naamah.

The news that Balnérith could detect her Soul’s energy made Amdirlain especially glad she hadn’t been cycling Ki in the Abyss.

“If J came near you, would it force you to kill her?”

Naamah snorted when she read the question. “Weak things that come near me die. They only let me out of the fortress when I start to overload. Laying waste to acres of the forest here calms me; otherwise, my accumulation of Death energy leaks over them.”

“If you didn’t have an accumulation of energy, would she die?”

“If I knew I was communicating with J, the orders Balnérith has set in place would be activated. I’m sure it's lucky the order I have now requires certainty. I had such fun with word games and abusing loopholes, that Balnérith eventually had to play it safe. She got so wonderfully mad, I thought she’d risk killing me a few times—pity she backed off. My order is to capture or kill J if I encounter her. It’s a shame I can’t hunt for her or act on suspicion, but I’m so suspicious that three sisters died when she tried some stupid clauses,” sneered Naamah.

“Just as well I’m not J. How much did the Fallen sell the pendant for?”

Naamah giggled at the carved reassurance before she scoffed. “Sell it? There wasn’t so much a sale as it was carved from their hide.”

Amdirlain mentally noted to speak with Dagrastûr about any Fallen having lost a pendant—and what happens.

“Why were you trying to get her to kill you?”

“Father said the blood would crack off if I died too many times,” explained Naamah. “If she destroys me, she’ll lose access to my lineage, which outnumbers those serving her directly. Each time she kills me is a risk I’ll get free. I’m torn. I’d love for her to break my tie, but I want to see her feelers pounded off.”

Feelers? Amdirlain held that question aside and instead carved one to check the situation.

“And you can’t go killing yourself?”

“No, I’m not even allowed to play with the Immortal dragons. No taking on any foes I’ve got reason to believe might kill me,” grumbled Naamah, and she started to pace. The motion brought to Amdirlain’s mind a predator in a concrete zoo cage pacing unhappily. “I think I’ll have to carve today’s memory away.”

“How does she not stop you from doing that?”

There wasn’t a response to that carved message for some time, but Amdirlain waited and continued to listen to Naamah’s song while she paced about.

“The blood still binds my flesh, but it's been millennia since it could seriously bind my mind,” explained Naamah. “Unfortunately, if I try to kill her with a Spell, pain’s kiss makes the ascension’s fire feel tame.”

Amdirlain smiled at the thought of Balnérith’s grip slowly weakening and carved another message. “Can you travel to other fortifications of the Sisterhood outside your current Plane?”

“I can. But, like the name of this Plane, my lips won’t move to share that information. I can’t enter any fortress where my lineage helps the Sisterhood,” clarified Naamah.

“I’ll speak to your mind if you don’t resist, saves us the stonework scribbling.”

Naamah laughed. “I wasn’t resisting your little Gate, but you seemed to have difficulty spreading it wide. Do you think your stone dome hides you? I can’t read your mind, but sensing your fragile life force is another matter. You are strong compared to the newly minted sisters, so you’re right; you’re not that weak fledgling J.”

Ignoring the taunt, Amdirlain made further adjustments to the plinth’s communication song, and the next words whispered into Naamah’s mind instead of her ear. “You’ll only need to direct a thought towards me while I’m maintaining this link. Do you have a Message Spell that can record to a known memory crystal?”

“I’ve always been a more in-person communicator,” countered Naamah, and she mentally giggled with vicious glee. “You seemed to easily create a connection with whatever method you just used.”

“True Song lets me apply my Willpower directly and makes it easier in other ways. The question about memory crystals wasn’t about the conversation now but about options for you to talk to me later. You’ll have to wait for me to contact you if we don’t resolve things now. Here is your choice: do you want me to set you free early or wait until I’m ready to crush Balnérith?”

“You claim the ability to set me free now?” asked Naamah suspiciously.

“I’ve been studying bonds for various reasons, and I can hear the cords in the blood’s music that tie it to you. They are easily targeted, and I'll only need the right leverage to sever them. I’m not sure if I can do it without preparation, but I believe I can,” explained Amdirlain.

“Tell me your name, Anar,” insisted Naamah.

“My current name you can’t have,” deflected Amdirlain.

Naamah laughed. “Your current name I don’t care about; what was your name?”

“Only if I can bind the memory of it so you can only think of it while talking to me,” countered Amdirlain. “Until you choose to be free, I’m loathe to risk Balnérith learning it.”

“As I said, father told me who freed him, but I cut the name out of my memory. Both to keep it safe and annoy her, but I left myself certain it was someone that could hurt her. However, it’s been driving me mad, and I didn’t leave myself enough reassurance,” stated Naamah. “If that was you, as you claimed, tell me how you woke him.”

“I freed him from the Necropolis. Set was using the energy from souls to drill into him. Destroying the artefact being used caused a shock wave that snapped him from his slumber.”

Giving a pleased growl, Naamah rushed on. “If I’ve reason to respect your old name as I believe, then share it, and I’ll accept your offer. Otherwise, keep your name. I’ll also excise the memory of today’s conversation until you decide to share it. Maybe you won’t be so fortunate to convince me to listen next time, even if my granddaughter vouches for you again.”

The way Precognition’s window had felt needled at her, and Amdirlain mentally cursed. “Orhêthurin.”

At her admission, Naamah threw back her head and howled with laughter, slapping her hands against her thighs with a force that unleashed shockwaves to flatten nearby trees. “By the Titan’s ballsack, that’s rich. His little messenger girl has returned. Are you going to carve a message into Balnérith’s bones? Messenger girl, why would Balnérith play around on the deepest Plane of the Abyss?”

Ice ran through Amdirlain’s veins at the question. “What is she doing?”

“Something that melts the bodies of those without a solid mental image of their form. It hurt her before she learnt that lesson. Now, underneath her uniform appearance, is a face made up of tentacles and insect feelers, while her skin looks like it's holding giant writhing worms in place,” chortled Naamah with sadistic delight.

A memory she’d long ago recovered bloomed in Amdirlain’s mind, and a worrying possibility became clear. “Has she said anything at all about it?”

“No, but she loathes this realm’s rules as much as I need to kill and fuck.”

Amdirlain refrained from sharing her concern, unsure whether Far Chaos or something else caused Balnérith’s metamorphosis. “How often does she go to the Fortress on Hrz’Styrn?”

“Likely only when there is trouble, or she has a new batch of her empty-skulled recruits to swear in that her tit bitches can’t handle,” sneered Naamah.

“You’re not allowed to go there, but if I give you an image, can you open a Gate into the Stronghold?”

“I’ll admit I’ve not tried since my mind slipped free. Why?”

“There is a block made of Leviathan’s blood. Around your neck and wrists is all the sympathetic link I need to steal and control it,” admitted Amdirlain. “I want to seize it at a time when she can't respond quickly.”

“She left for the deep planes a few days ago. The return trip alone takes time; it’s hard to use Planar Shift, let alone create gates reaching to or from those planes. So whatever you need time for, you should have some now. But I’m only allowed to enter certain fortresses,” Naamah slyly dug.

“Opening a Gate doesn’t mean you intend to visit,” countered Amdirlain.

Naamah snickered and gleefully rubbed her hands together. “I wanted to make sure you don’t miss the obvious; why do you need me to open the Gate?”

“Since you’re wearing her sigil, you can brush her wards aside,” reminded Amdirlain.

“So you were once Orhêthurin but don’t have her strength; otherwise, Balnérith’s wards wouldn’t matter.”

“I don’t have her strength yet, but a subtle approach doesn’t require as much strength,” corrected Amdirlain, and an idea came to mind. “Your father said your death will eventually cause the blood’s bond to break?”

“Yes.”

“Did he give you an explanation as to why?”

“Leviathan’s blood doesn’t like the caress of Death that destroying my form unleashes.”

After restoring her Wood Elf form, Amdirlain teleported before the protective circle and took in the haze of Naamah’s power corroding it. “I know how to get you free. How much of your accumulated Death energy would you be willing to let me use?”

Naamah’s heated gaze drank in Amdirlain’s body, lingering along every centimetre of her lean lines. “Quite a bit. I never get rid of it all, merely follow my instructions to stop them dying around me. It’s a pleasure to meet again. What use do you have for Leviathan’s blood?”

“Nothing major, but I’ll tell you after I finish a song or three,” quipped Amdirlain, giving a casual shrug and hiding the extent of her hopes.