The Fruit From The Endless Branch
| The Fruit From The Endless Branch | |||||||||
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| Factions Involved | |||||||||
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ShadowHaven רַמַּא "Bud" | Dedicants | ||||||||
| Alkali |
Dedicants Blossom | ||||||||
| Casualties and losses | |||||||||
| 0 | The Dedicant's Externality | ||||||||
By Act of Grace my former state; how soon |
Summary
Alkali journeys into the metaplane of man and forms a pact with a fallen angel, carving its name upon himself in exchange for time and knowledge.
Background
Micah, better known in the runner community as Alkali, is dying. He has been dying for some time, now. His lungs are imperfect, ravaged by cancer, and his frailty is a constant obstacle on the road to the divine. This cannot stand.
The Beginning
It is a dreary, uneventful Saturday evening and Alkali is taking a well-deserved break. In his cramped apartment, he surrounds himself in arcane tomes and texts, perusing occult thesis's. His last set of jobs have had him facing crowds of toxic cultists and infiltrating Vory gambling dens. The change of pace is much appreciated. Except as he turns the page, he stumbles upon something out of place. A strange sigil, two interlocking circles, one within the other. It glows softly with golden light, much like a light he had seen once before. Adjusting his glasses, he quickly identifies it as a spirits marker, a lifeline that would guide him within the metaplanes.
Quickly, he readies his preparations for astral travel. Drugs are imbibed, alchemical preparations are readied and a ritual circle, sketched with ink atop paper in the center of his apartment, empowers his willpower. Alkali sits within the circle, takes a deep, ragged breath.
Then, his spirit rises out of his body. His soul yearns for the metaplanes, for the place beyond, but there remains a single barrier arresting his ascent to the initiate horizon.
The Dweller
Alkali enters the space beyond and becomes aware of a great entity, miles high, towering above him. Beyond it is a nigh, endless void, starstuff stretching into the ether. The mage begins to walk.
First, the entity asks to see his past failures. His weakness. His shame. From the depths of Micah's psyche, a scene forms. A petty argument between siblings, both exhausted and dying and poor, killing themselves for a dream that felt so far away. Shouting at one another over nothing.
Micah journeys onward across the void.
Next, the entity probes into the depths of his present. Seen are two Micah's, one of pure magic and one of pure flesh. One ascends to the heavens, growing stronger and purer while the other wilts and fades, sacrificed to the altar of his greater half. Health and breath have been cast aside to assure might. The result of cutting off a limb to secure the survival of the whole again and again and again.
Halfway there, now.
Finally, he sees a picture of the future. Micah walks along a wooded road. Some is the same. His hair and face are the same. His crucifix and ribbon. New are the robes and staff. New are the countless spirit markers he bears, connecting him to powerful beings. Even though he seems to be the same age, something about him is older. Wiser. Stronger. And yet Micah knows that this version of himself has given something up to get here, has left something behind.
He crosses the abyss.
From the beyond, a voice asks for his name. He answers, simple and clear.
Micah.
The Metaplane of Man
The metaplane of man sweeps out before him. Mighty skyscrapers next to castle towers, city and civilization of every creed all piled in next to one another. Spirits rushing back and forth along a great, incandescent boulevard. It is beautiful. Micah feels the tug of the spirit's symbol and lets it pull him along, past the towers and bridges and trains and every other scrap of metahumanity that reflects upon the astral realm.