( I started a series of books ages ago in-game around the time of Visage's birth. I thought it would be cool to write about some of what was going on with Aracena, as well as keep log of some important historical events around Altera. I regret that I did not start them with Aracena's original deal and how she became marked. But I did start from the point just before Jishrim's banishment.
These are in-game books. I only wrote three, but I found them in a chest today and plan on continuing the tale. I'll write them here, letter for letter. Typos and all. They exist In-Game as well, and as soon I finish the series, likely that I'll add them to Thiil's library. Anyway- Here we go. Let's get started.~ )
These are in-game books. I only wrote three, but I found them in a chest today and plan on continuing the tale. I'll write them here, letter for letter. Typos and all. They exist In-Game as well, and as soon I finish the series, likely that I'll add them to Thiil's library. Anyway- Here we go. Let's get started.~ )
The Spider Chronicles: Volume One
This is the personal account of one Aracena Mithtanil in regards to the days leading up to Jishrim’s banishment and the immediate days thereafter. Let it be stated that, as one bearing the Mark of Jishrim, it takes great effort and mental control to write this coherently. Please forgive any errors of writing you may encounter.
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Before Jishrim’s banishment, his activity in Altera had been increased, though that may be solely from my own experience. I found myself beleaguered by him almost without pause. He hounded me relentlessly, and with his cruel whispers in my ear at every turn, he was able to corrupt my clear way of thinking. I became his puppet. I had been able to resist his taunts for some time because of my husband’s steadfast care and loyalty. He was an anchor and he enabled me to fight the insanity I faced every day. But Jishrim is cruel. He is clever. He is relentless. Because of his dark patience, I was warped into his compliant pawn.
With my trust in Athryl eaten away, and a sinister belief that everyone would see me caged, I blindly accepted another deal with the Mad God. I was no longer myself, and did not think of what consequences of my actions would have. He explained that his Exalted was dead. If I were to kill the one who murdered Vlad, his chosen priest, then I would be released from my Mark and free of his grasp. Jishrim promised he would let me go. I would be given three chances to do so, and if I failed, then I would take Vlad’s place. He did not explain in what capacity, but I did not question it at the time. I said I understood and agreed.
But I am not black hearted. Even so twisted as I was, I thought I could outsmart him. My mind raced with possibilitiessssssss. Frown her, and then resuscitate her immediately after. Find a poison to stop the heart, but with an antidote on hand. Anything. But as I spoke with a trusted friend, I realized that Jishrim was needing a sacrifice. Even if I had a way to bring her back waiting in the wings, he would most certainly interfere before I could do anything of the sort. Which causes me to wonder….
[The remainder of the page is full of black line scribbles.]
Why was he so insistent on hounding me the way he did before his banishment? Why did he need that sacrifice so badly? And why the caveat of taking Vlad’s place? Did he mean to make me his Exalted in Vlad’s place? Did he need an Exalted? Or did he mean that I would take Vlad’s place as a corpse, while the man was brought back to the land of the living? Looking back on it now, it seems to be a deal of desperation on his part. Of cours, it is only the speculation of a mad woman who has had a few days of mental reprieve.
END VOLUME ONE
-Aracena Mithtanil
The Spider Chronicles: Volume Two
When Jishrim called everyone to his Shrine, I was wary. Frightened. I was running out of chances to fulfill our deal. But at that point, I was resigned to take Vlad’s place. When I realized who it was I was supposed to kill, I lost all heart to do it. So as I sat in the back of the Shrine, my entire body was tense and ready to run at any moment.
[There is a poorly drawn scribble of Jishrim’s shrine, bodies packed tightly into pews as spiders drip from the ceiling.]
I was also afraid because I had heard through way of rumor that he would bring a child into this wolrd that would be his voice amongst the mortals. But rumors are rumors, no matter how unsettling, and so I went there to what he intended. He coalesced into a tall and spindly form, all smoke and limbs. He offered a gift to any who would take it. As I sat in the back, I heard his voice in my mind. Calling me to step forward. Telling me to accept his gift. But I declined. I was afraid. I wanted no part of any gifts. No more deals. No more lies.
Despite my own refusal, person after person stepped forward to accept his gift. One girl even offered to accept his Mark in order to remove the Mark on one Wulf Artorius, a child unfortunately claimed by Jishrim from Vallee de Mai. One Halfling even fired a bow against another in order to be the one to claim Jishrim’s gift. Fear and stupidity swarmed the atmosphere in equal parts.
It was then that Silas appeared. There was some form of verbal argument where Silas’s book turned into ash. It appeared that Silas was about to sacrifice himself, talking of something called supersedition. It was a highly grim outlook until Shalherana entered into the Shrine. She said there needed to be balance. I could not look any longer, being far too afraid. I closed my eyes and hunkered in my seat, fearful.
Yet when I did finally go to look, Shalherana and Jishrim were gone. In Jishrim’s place was a child of some sort. He appeared helpless, huddled up on the platform. His eyes were dark and hollow, his skin made of porcelain that shifted and crackled, and there was no mouth to be seen. This seemed to be Jishrim’s gift.
The Spider Chronicles: Volume Three
[This entire page is black from an ink spill, tendrils of ink reaching out like spindly legs on the page.]
Silas was baffled by the God Child. As he left the shrine to consult his books, he instructed those gathered not to touch it. And as he left, chaos erupted. Theodra burst into the room in the form of a great wolf. With a startling ferocity, she clamped her jaws upon the child’s neck. It was, however, unphased. She told teh mortals in the room that if it could not be slain, then the Rangers should train it. And then as quickly as she came, the was gone once more.
The mortals were in a flurry of confusion. Soldiers formed a barricade around teh child while people scrambled to take a look at the Divine curiosity. It looked around with its hollow eyes as the mortals clamored for its attention. Despite the barricade, the Child was poked and touched. Handled and fought over. Picked up and coddled. And before anyone knew what was happened, it touched the stone wall and phased through to the other side.
The crowd, at hat point, was a near riot. They picked it up and tossed it around like it truly was a doll. Weapons were out and threates were being shouted from one end of the Shrine to the other. I watched in absolute horror as the
[The rest of the page has been torn out.]
into the water. By some curiosity, it became water and reformed by a nearby campfire. When it reached out to touch the flame, it burst into flame as well.
Rationally, I knew that this was likely part of Jishrim’s game. Rationally, I knew that I should listen to Silas. But even though Jishrim was banished, I still felt the pull of his Mark. Because of my addled mind, I had come to hate and blame Silas for many things. Therefore, his words meant nothing to me. And as I looked at the curious being with such adaptive powers, I pitied it. I wanted to take it away from the insanity that surrounded it.
After a time, the fighting did come to a brief abate. Outside of the Shrine, there was a debate on where the child should go. If it should go with the Rangers, or elsewhere. Many thought it should decide for itself. Perhaps in my own desire to see it safe and away from harm, I spoke up for the first time. I suggested Thiil, where it would be surrounded by peace and knowledge.
When I spoke up, the Child stood up from where it had been sitting on the ground. The crowd parted, believing that it was ready to choose where it wanted to go. The porcelain figure stumbled and toddled over to me, with its hollow eyes, and reached out for my left hand. Perhaps it was Jishrim’s intention all along for this to happen... Perhaps my own pregnancy cause me to feel motherly towards the thing. Or perhaps it truly was just a lost child in need of a mother. But when it reached out for my hand, I offered it.
Though what happened next, I was hardly prepared for. The Mark of Jishrim that had cursed me for so long was absorbed into its skin. It sizzled and swirled, and the Child took away my curse. The blackness of the spider swirled into its own skin before return to its porcelain nature. And just like that, Jishrim’s taint was gone. The spiders vanished. The voices fell silent. Everything… Became clear. I was left looking into its hollow eyes with the utmost awe and admiration. The Child had done what Silas could not. What Jishrim would not.
I was finally free.
The Spider Chronicles: Volume Four
(For some reason, there were some errors after I signed this book. Words got cut off and it looks like pages are missing. So… It reads strangely. :/)The Spider Chronicles: Volume FiveThere are often things we face in life that deter us. Distract and confound us. Such was the case for me. As the author of these tales, I must give apology to you, Reader. So swept up in my own tale, years have passed since I had last taken up the pen. Much has happened since the days Visage removed my curse, as the God Child is now known ot be called. I shall persevere to recall events as clearly as I can so that you may know the truth and the madness I have faced.
As I left off, it had seemed that the God Child had granted me reprieve. The raging storm of Jishrim’s curse that existed within my mind vanished. However, not all shared the same level of gratitude and adoration of the creation. Still gathered at the Shrines around it, the mortals gawked and squabbled until Silas finally returned. He asked us question after question, each answer bringing a new disappointment.
“Did anyone touch it?”
“Has it touched stone? Water, fire?”
“Has anyone spoken to it?”
“Has it been given name?”
Silas grew more agitated with the perceived incompetency of the mortals. Upon his return, he gauged how the Child’s strength had grown due to our interference. He came to the decision that the Figment of power needed to be locked away. So overwhelmed by emotion, I watched in horror as Silas attempted to trap the child. I could not bear to watch, and I had to remove myself from the scene. What I know of after events, however, comes from speaking to others in the days after.
The crowd who persisted to watch the God Child’s entrapment begged with the Divine, pleaded that he give the porcelain doll a – that our influence and everything it had been subjected to since its creation, would push it towards great evil. He was certain it was Jishrim’s plan all along. With his banishment, the child would perhaps serve as an extension of himself.
--showed compassion and mercy. He determined that he would let the creation remain free. Trapping it would be incredibly painful for the Figment, but would also ensure it did not grow more dangerous. But the mortals begged, and so Silas said he would give it one month. At the end of that month, he would return to pass judgement.
And thus he left, leaving a being of infinite potential and adaptability in the hands of Altera. A creation that could grow into a God, and it was left to our judgement to watch after it.
Looking back now, I am certain no one was prepared for the outcome to follow.
Number Six!In the month to follow, the Child made appearances all over Altera. Originally decided that the Rangers would take it into their care and protection. They would train it and show a sense of discipline and kindness to it. However, the Porcelain God Child had a different idea.
It followed them to Tauredal, mimicking and watching. Absorbing all that it could from them. And then, from what I understand, vanished. This account only comes from what I learned much later. Still yet, the Child phased away.
Time and again the Child appeared at different placed. It mattered not the time or day or where. He was there. Watching. Repeating. Repeating. Repeating. Repeating. Always repeating.
It came to me in Thiil on several occassions. I was thankful for what it had done for me. I had never experienced such clarity. And yet I was knew... This was Jishrim's final gift before Shalherana banished him for tipping the scales. Jishrim had whispered into my mind to ask me to accept his gift. There was always a sense of concern and fear in the back of my mind. But more than anything, I felt protective of it. I felt a need to protect it, no different than my instincts for the unborn children I bore in my womb at the time.
When it first appeared to me, I was in Thiil's library. I saw it peering through the windows with a tiny hand to th eglass. For as much time had passed, I cannot recall who was with me at the the time. But I do know that we were both taken aback. Perhaps it was SHeila Cor... In fact I believe that it was. Fitting, I suppose....
In any case, we watched the child in surprise. It, of course, phased through the window and came inside. It watched and mimicked before eventually returning outside. Sheila and myself followed, but its appearance was causing a stir in the town. An unease. A crowd gathered.
I was able to approach the Figment again, to which it said a few surprising things. It seemed to reveal cognizance to me, using words it had previously heard in order to form its own thoughts.
It spoke of the child, Wulfe Artorious. Another Marked at the time, like myself. The girl whose curse I felt responsible for. The Figment revealed that it had been approached to remove Wulfe's curse as well, but that it could not...
By whatever rules that created it, by whatever rules of Jishrim's game, the Porcelain Child could only take the curse of one. Could only cure one. It also used a curious word... Chosen. Perhaps that she was Chosen over myself. That she was meant to be cured... I do not know for certain.
At this point, the town physician, Gustav Fritz, appeared in a flurry of panic. He viewed the CHild as a demon. He had no trust for the child and grew in fearful agitation. The crowd grew as well.
Soon after the Child vanished, disappearing to whichever place it deemed most interesting to visit next.
Discussions and debates followed. Days passed as the world grew more entranced with the Godling. Just as many people coddled it as tried to destroy it, if rumors served true. I struggled with my feelings for the Child, even. Always questioning at what point the trap would reveal itself. And yet I continued to protect it.
At least until one visit in particular. Again Sheila was visiting. Again fitting, or perhaps even intentional. Regardless, the Child came. Sheila waved the Watcher inside, and it phased through the window and into my home. Sheila could not stay for long, however. She bid farewell to the Godling and left on her way, leaving me along with the Figment. The encounter was jarring as a growing fear was cemented. As always, it mimicked. It spoke my own words back. I asked it questions and it used phrases it had heard before to answer.
I questioned it more about my curse. How it could take it back as it had. I settled on more clarity as it became evident it could give or take the curse back at will, but could only bear the curse of one.
But then... Then the Child began saying things it shouldn't....
When I first made the second pact with the Mad God, words were exchanged. Between Jishrim and I. Between Athryl and I. Between others around us.
The Child started speaking. Saying things it wasn't in the world to hear. Repeating conversations that only myself and Jishrim had partaken in. Immediately I grew nauseous. It spoke His words. And then spoke Athryl's name even though I had never mentioned my husband to the Figment.
I grew incredibly frightened. It made no move to harm me. It only touched my pregnant belly. But even then I was scared.
How could it know? Was this a result of Jishrim's curse affecting him? By absorbing the curse, did he absorb a part of Jishrim? Was the child actually Jishrim? Had I accidentally awakened something? The Mad God had wanted me to accept his Gift from the start. Was this why? So that the Child could take my Mark and become corrupted? So that Jishrim could be reborn?
There were too many questions. I grew panicked. At this point Gustav had come knocking after Athryl only to discover the Child there with me.
Gustav decided to try bravery and locked himself inside, alone with the child. I could hear from outside as Gustav taught it words like kindness and compassion in some errant hope of saving us all.
And still I panicked from outside. The child should not have known or repeated. I began to formulate a plan, but I needed to find the other Marked souls to do it. The Pup. The Half Burned. The Proprietor. And myself.. The Librarian.
I began making my way hurriedly when a voice whispered into my mind. Just like Jishrim had before giving the world his gift. It was the Child. It spoke clearly and coherently with no sign of mimicry in my mind. We talked of the curse. I asked if I took the Mark back, if he could then free another?
The figment said it could. I nodded and carried on, leaving Gustav alone with it and formulating some small plan.
Timing is key. I do not know for certain if the timing of future events was intended or serendipitous. What I do know is that the formulated plans never came to fruition because of what happened next. As I surmised at the time, the Child seemed to absorb everything. Words, its environment, and now even absorbing the sign of my Pact with Jishrim. I asked if it was possible for me to have the Mark back in hopes of uncorrupting the Child. I intended to find the others like myself. To beg them not to accept its removal for the sake of the Child’s future.
I did not get that far in my planning. I could not even find a single one of the other three because I was awoken from slumber but heinous, screeching laughter in my ear. So frighteningly familiar that I shot awake and knew immediately what had happened. I did not need the unending torrent of wispy visions to tell me that my curse had returned.
The days after are a hazy recollection. They were filled mostly with debilitating fear. Hatred. Frustration and anguish. I had been free. I had walked through the gardens in Thiil without seeing spiders lurking. I had spoken with a clear and unfettered tongue. And just like that- The black mark was returned to my hand and I had been returned to hell.
As I pieced together, the Figment had found Wulfe and removed her Mark. In doing so, mine was returned. While I had intended to take it back… I did not want it if it meant the creation would only absorb another Mark. My plan crumbled in my hand, much the same as my sanity.
It made the encounters following all the more difficult to bear, as once again, my mind turned into a warped landscape of fear and pliability.
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