Way2Necro.

Anyway, people have always asked Shaddus IC "Dude, why do you serve Fain? He always seems to screw you over, why give Him anything? This is sort of what Shaddus the character believes of Fain. It's a bit twisted, but so is Shaddus.

I think I've just been converted to Fain

Just said that from my point of view,though.
And I just had to post that oooold public post. It's rare to see Divine post publicly these days.

From an OOC stand-point, Fain has (insert all adverbs synonymous to great here) RP.

Also, Siam's had an almost similar view as Shaddus' , albeit in a different, less twisted(?) way - that Fain merely wanted to do what he had to do, it's just that it was against the principles of the other Elders. What he doesn't understand, yet, is Fain's personal vendetta against individuals (most likely from the still incomplete but still very,very good history of the Elder Wars).

IMHO, what happened to Fain is similar to what happens everyday, to some person in some place. But then again, that's for another forum and not here

There's actually a post somewhere on the forums, I think Sthai started it, with logs and stuff. We should probably link it somehow.

I have this strong urge to create a Mag alt and work to join Fain's Order...

It happens to everyone. You know how many times I've tried?

I just spent half my day reading that thread.

Off the cuff baptism! Grigoloth is amazing.

Trooper Grigoloth, Charge of Ixion says to you, "Your devotion to Lord Fain is admirable. If He is still willing to have me, I shall cleave to Him."

The ghost of a smile passes fleetingly across your lips.

You say, "Most excellent."

Peering through her mask at you, you say, "Then kneel, servant."

Trooper Grigoloth, Charge of Ixion says to you, "I shall."

Trooper Grigoloth, Charge of Ixion walks towards you with a military march, stopping dead silent. Slowly, he kneels to one knee, head lowered.

Celina swiftly draws a dagger from the folds of her robes.

Trooper Grigoloth, Charge of Ixion's ears twitch at the sound, keeping his composer as he stares towards the floor below.

Slowly drawing the fine edge across her palm, you say, "You have come to me, Grigoloth, to offer yourself to Him. To become a vessel of His will, a pawn within His basin. To serve, obediently. To plunge into the umbral depths of the unknown if He so wills it. Is this so?"

Speaking in a monotone, sepulchral voice, Trooper Grigoloth, Charge of Ixion says to you, "His enemies, the warriors who wish His demise will have their limbs removed by my hand. The woman, their vile whoms desecrated by the blade of my axe. And the child, I shall rip them in half, for they shall never see life beyond the life of an infant. Yes, I offer myself completely, as I have come here by my own free will."

The ghost of a smile passes fleetingly across your lips.

Grigoloth's eyes repeatedly shut as he tries to stay awake.

Grigoloth's exhausted mind can stay awake no longer, and he falls into a deep sleep.

You smirk.

Trooper Grigoloth, Charge of Ixion says to you, "I have fainted, it seems."

You say, "If you must rest, then do so now."

Trooper Grigoloth, Charge of Ixion struggles back to his knee, face flush from embarrassment.

Grigoloth closes his eyes, curls up into a ball and falls asleep.

Grigoloth opens his eyes and yawns mightily.

Grigoloth stands up and stretches his arms out wide.

Trooper Grigoloth, Charge of Ixion kneels once again.

You say, "Such events can be quite draining for one so young. This will change, in time."

Trooper Grigoloth, Charge of Ixion says to you, "Thank you for lenience, Lady Celina."

Clenching her fist, forcing the blood to flow freely from the fresh wound, you say, "Indeed, I am quite benevolent. Now where were we."


You say, "Ah yes."

You say, "You come to me Grigoloth, ill worth my time. Ill suited for the Lord's games, but indeed, you come to me willingly and offer yourself by your own will. Such is the foundation of a pawn. The clay with which you will be molded in His vision."

Trooper Grigoloth, Charge of Ixion clinches his eyes shut, his face burning red as the words seem to have some sort of spell over his fleshed shell.

Placing a single bloody finger against the flesh of your forehead, leaving a mark in blood, you say, "I bind you His will, Grigoloth. Always will you have a place within His game, forever fated to dance the waltz of His Masquerade. Your unbeating heart, your cold flesh, your tainted soul. They belong to Him, and no one, mortal nor divinity, can break this oath."

Trooper Grigoloth, Charge of Ixion breathes heavily, an audible grunt forming a twisting noise from his crimson lips.

A crimson energy flickers across Celina's eyes as a surge of energy forces itself from her fingertips. The mark boils and sizzles, burning the flesh beneath as a stabbing pain rips through your skull. (colored illusion)

You shudder as a whisper knifes through your soul, and your vision turns crimson. "Know your place, maggot: an ant, my pawn amongst mortals. I care not for your mortal desires or woes, whether you live or die. I care only that you serve Me. Serve Me well, and you may profit. Fail Me, and I will torment you beyond your wildest imaginations." (colored illusion)

Trooper Grigoloth, Charge of Ixion's mouth opens like a gapping cavern, eyes widening and bulging from his skull and his whole begins to spasm like a speared fish.

Whispering under his breathe painfully, Trooper Grigoloth, Charge of Ixion says, "I shall serve you diligently."

You have emoted: Celina draws back her hands, her robes fluttering briefly as the crimson aura fades from her being.

Trooper Grigoloth, Charge of Ixion's sweaty brow clouds his vision as the droplets of moisture nestle themselves within the lids and lashes of his eyes.

You say, "Rise, maggot, and be reborn in His name. By His will, I baptise you, Masked One Grigoloth!"

You baptise Grigoloth into the Supplicants of the Divine Order of Fain, of the Red Masque.

Trooper Grigoloth, Charge of Ixion begins to rise, clumsily like a weak kneed fawn at birth.

Leaning in to hiss within your ear, you say, "He will allow nothing to come between His will and His pawns, Masked One. Not rank, not death, not Magnagora, not family."

Trooper Grigoloth, Charge of Ixion regains somewhat of his former form standing at attention, hands placed behind his back.

Trooper Grigoloth, Charge of Ixion says to you, "His desires are above all else. They will not be denied by my doing."

Leaning back, you say, "Good."

With a flick of her wrist towards the fulcrux alcove, you say, "Now go."

Trooper Grigoloth, Charge of Ixion offers a weak salute, tilting to his side slightly.

Trooper Grigoloth, Charge of Ixion says to you, "Yes, Lady Celina."

*gape*

so... awesome.

Emperor Palpatine?

We get similar messages from Lisaera when stuff ishappening here and there. Kinda interesting to know Fainites get them too.

Fain is both hilarious and awesome in a lot of ways. He views everyone as a pawn in his game, but yet he is still somehow able to convey feelings.

Weird stuff, but I love it.

Awwwww, I didn't even notice you posted our RP session until now Celina. Thanks for the kudo's and I really enjoyed the RP. I hope to see more player interaction with your charactor in the future, along with any other Fainites out there.

(Crimson Council): Fain says, "Jigan, some dull Aslaran believes I must make you
a maggot."

A strange sensation of being in the wrong place overtakes you before the area
before you parts suddenly, and you are pulled into a swirling mass of colour and
twisting shapes. A brief moment passes before your incomprehensible surroundings
peel away to reveal you standing before Fain.
Massive throne room.
Shimmering with a dark aura, a crimson throne looms in the centre of the room.
Fain, of the Red Masque sits enthroned upon a massive crimson throne and an aura
of overpowering malevolence fills the chamber. He wields a sleek katana forged
of blackened steel and wreathed in flames with both hands.
There are no obvious exits.

With a majestic wave of His arm, Fain opens up a rift in the aetherways,
fluctuating oddly before it settles down into a vibrating Divine portal.
3742h, 3819m, 2274e, 10p, 17305w elrx-kneel fain
You kneel before Fain, swearing your allegiance to Him.

You stand up and stretch your arms out wide.

Fain, of the Red Masque begins to tap an iron gauntlet impatiently against the
bloody arm of His throne.

With a majestic wave of His arm, Fain opens up a rift in the aetherways,
fluctuating oddly before it settles down into a vibrating Divine portal.

The thrumming around a vibrating Divine portal increases momentarily as Durving
steps through it, emerging from the aetherways themselves.

Twisting hideously, Fain's mask contorts into the semblance of a smile.

Fain, of the Red Masque says, "Greetings, My Child."

Durving gulps nervously.

Coldly, Fain, of the Red Masque says, "Behold Jigan, My servant."

Your vision blurs and swims as tangible waves of malevolence project from Fain's
ghastly visage.

Durving shakes his head.

Fain, of the Red Masque says, "Now present your case. One of you I will make
maggot."

Fain, of the Red Masque says to Durving, "Present your submissions, Durving. For
what reason must I maggot this Magnagoran."

Fain, of the Red Masque says to you, "Once he is done, present your defence and
counterclaim."

Twisting hideously, Fain's mask contorts into the semblance of a smile.

Fain, of the Red Masque says, "BEGIN."

The crimson miasma of souls about Fain's shrouded figure churns with sudden
vehemence.

Squire Durving Starleaf, Ward of Pharamon says, "Lord Fain, if Jigon continues
his disrespect..."

Squire Durving Starleaf, Ward of Pharamon says, "Will it not soon occur that
those mortals who do not serve you will disrespect you in the same way?"

Fain's mask smolders and contorts into a half smile.

Coldly, Fain, of the Red Masque says, "Continue child."

Squire Durving Starleaf, Ward of Pharamon says, "Jigon sets a bad example not
only for his fellow magnagorans, but for all of the Basin, by presuming that
mortals are able to talk back to the Elder Gods."

Fain, of the Red Masque says, "Tedious."

Squire Durving Starleaf, Ward of Pharamon says, "I never presumed that the curse
of the maggot would be applied, at least not right away, but such things happen
to those who disrespect the Elder Gods, do they not?"

From behind His mask, Fain's eyes burn with a malignant humour.

Fain, of the Red Masque says, "Indeed."

Fain, of the Red Masque says, "Does that complete your submissions, Squire?"

Squire Durving Starleaf, Ward of Pharamon says, "Yes, Lord Fain..."

Durving cowers in a corner, whimpering.

Fain, of the Red Masque says to you, "Speak."

Bowing before Fain, you say, "My Lord, there are several notations to make in
this case."

The temple fills with a chilling howl, as Makfir offers praises to His master.

You say, "In the first, I did not lay disrespect to You, I do believe. Only to
Eventru, and Celest."


You say, "At the second, my Lord, no mortal who follows You would dare
disrespect You for over long. If we recall, You have brought me to bear several
times for stepping over the line in my actions, but rarely over respect."

Fain, of the Red Masque says, "Did you not hear the submissions of the cat
thing, Archmage?"

From behind His mask, Fain's eyes burn with a malignant humour.

Fain, of the Red Masque says, "He said that disrespect to one god is as
disrespect to all gods. How do you answer that."

Fain, of the Red Masque begins to tap an iron gauntlet impatiently against the
bloody arm of His throne.

You say, "You are far more than the other petty gods, my Lord."

Fain, of the Red Masque says, "Indeed."

Fain, of the Red Masque says, "Continue, mortal."

You say, "To suggest that disrespect to Eventru is disrespect to You is saying
that saying the pig is skinny is an insult to the farmer."

Under his breathe, you say, "I await that bacon."

Durving gulps nervously.

The crimson miasma of souls about Fain's shrouded figure churns with sudden
vehemence.

Fain, of the Red Masque says, "You speak well, Jigan."

Fain, of the Red Masque says, "Very well."

You say, "Irregardless, the insult has been delivered to Eventru for the reason
that He decided, in His egotiscical ways, that I must praise Him."

Fain, of the Red Masque says, "Hear Me, Durving, Ward of Pharamon."

Fain, of the Red Masque says, "You submit erroneous falsehood."

Durving shakes his head.

Fain, of the Red Masque says, "For you equate Me, Last of the First Circle with
lesser others of the Elder race - soulless bait who should not have survived."

Fain, of the Red Masque says, "Jigan speaks... if circuitously, according to My
will."

Durving grabs his stomach and falls to the ground, writhing in agony. His flesh
rips painfully apart, revealing mounds of disgusting, disease-ridden maggots
beneath, which burst from his orifices and skin. As the last of Durving's flesh
liquifies, an abnormally large and filthy maggot crawls from the fleshy detritus
and a far-away mocking laughter booms through your ears.

Durving moans like a wailing banshee.

With a majestic wave of His arm, Fain opens up a rift in the aetherways,
fluctuating oddly before it settles down into a vibrating Divine portal.

The thrumming around a vibrating Divine portal increases momentarily as Durving
steps into it, disappearing instantly.

Fain's a meanie who took my speech away for flooding his fulcrux, so he can suffer.
But he scares me just enough not to do it again... yet.

awesome

OH OHohohohoh question...

Some time ago I honoured snaithy and he had been turned into a maggot by fain, atleast so I was told, was talking to telperion -IN TELLS- and said that fain was a gutless coward. little ways off this voice says

"Gutless coward? you will pay for your >insert big fancy word here <"

Can the divine listen in on our tells?