Completed [Nyka] Dominion, or the tragedy of the commons [Ialari]

[Tarot]

"No twitching. No trembling. No involuntary reflexes. Just a little excess lag every now and then, is all." Shalla replied, though she climbed down the thing right after Ialari with a certain amount of hesitation. "I was human once, and did not like heights back then either. There was this time when I had to throw myself off a window on the top floor of a tower… after I had recovered a certain item for my employer. I had a glyphed spell on me that was guaranteed to make me land safely. It actually sent me flying randomly for miles before dropping me into a pond. Life before the Valterrian was like that. So… intense, and crowded."

It was probably more than Shalla had ever told Ialari about herself and her previous life as a spy masquerading as an innocent paper pusher for magical institutions. Curious that she should tell the story while they both clung to a flimsy coil of rope that was taking them downwards into full darkness. The first thing Ialari noticed as she descended was that the Aperture felt warmer than it should have been. For a place where the sun never shone - surrounded by no mountains that could hint at any volcanic activity going on - there was a noticeable difference to the city above.

Sounds also reverberated quite a bit. They were not true echoes, because the walls of rock were not far enough apart for voices and noises to travel a long way, but every little sound carried a trail that made it deeper and fuller. The climb took a few minutes, and near the end Ialari could feel someone tugging at the ladder to check if they were still going down. The monks must be getting impatient to withdraw the rope and call it a night.

At some point, the rope ended abruptly before they touched the bottom of the pit. Ialari's dark vision allowed her to see that it was a mere two feet until the ground, but it would have been much more of a leap of faith for the average human. "I know a little Auristics. We won't need torches unless you want one lit." They were surrounded by near total darkness, what light still warmed up the sky above was little help down here. The Isur was, in a way, back home.

The ladder was hastily retracted, reminding them that there was no way back till the next morning.

The ground was rocky and irregular, though every now and then some sections could be found that may have been floor tiling and pavement. About ten steps into the expedition, Ialari spotted the broken pieces of an old pot. Obviously, this had been a city a long time ago.

"Well, we have come this far, we may as well get to work. We can explore around and find the ghosts, or we can try and attract them to us. Basically, I'd make a safe zone around ourselves and then place a lure for Berliotz's ghosts. I can do that for you, as safely as I can make it. Although, speaking as someone who's only taken 'Spiritism 1' at the Academy because she really needed those credits - I'll let you decide how safe that is."

[Ialari Pythone]

Ialari noted how much Shalla had shared as they descended the Aperture. The undead were normally quiet, speaking only when they found it necessary. That was what Ialari had gathered during her time in Sahova. Hearing Shalla speak more of her past was something that struck Ialari as being fractionally mortal. Was it a good thing or a bad thing, she wasn't able to tell as of yet. Having an undead companion did have its benefits though. They were tireless for the most part, quiet when words were not desired and one did not have to worry about finding them food or water.

Deciding to share a little in return, Ialari uncharacteristically allowed herself to reveal something of her past as well, "I've never been one to accept being second best. So, in a course on magecrafting, I drew the affections of a fellow classmate. I despised him; he was cocky, unskilled and overall simply flawed. He did however possess preferential treatment from the instructor. I couldn't have him one-upping me simply because his family held influence over my teacher. I gained his trust through various unsavory methods. Then after a night of him huffing and puffing over me, I dabbed a bit of poison on his lips. It caused him to slowly lose touch with reality. The instructor soon dismissed him as weak and unable to handle the energies dealt to him. I took his place as preferred student. Though not as exciting as flying for miles and landing in a heap, it was satisfactory nonetheless."

The warmth and strange effects on sound as they descended was more than a little curious to Ialari. She ignored the tugging on the ladder from above though still tried to accommodate herself to the odd environment. While feeling a little bit at home in the darkness, the entire place was almost too alien.

When they finally reached solid footing; the ladder retracted, Ialari looked around. Her vision allowed only so much viewing but it was enough to realize that there had once been a city there in the depths.

It took little time at all for Ialari to decide on the next course of action. While Shalla may not be all that experienced in dealing with ghosts, Ialari despised the idea of hunting around, trying to find spirits on their own terms. "I'd prefer having at least some protection against whatever may be hovering about us. If Berliotz's ghosts are indeed around here, I'd say bring 'em on. There is a divine mission here that no ghost will deny us. Besides, I'd rather deal with the dead over the living any day."

[Tarot]

The Nuit nodded in response. "It sure does beat the idea of looking for a needle in a haystack," she said, and reached into her backpack where they had gathered some of their edible supplies. Even though Shalla needed none for sustainance, she had insisted to get more than they needed for Ialari's bare necessities. "From what I have garnered about you, you find many things to be weak, gross and lacking purity of form," Shalla said as she retrieved travel rations, dried meat and cheese from their pack.

"This is going to be gross even by my standards. Be warned."

Shalla opened her mouth wider than most mortals could, her teeth sharp but yellowed by undeath and the age of her host body. She bit on the rations and began to chew on them, not swallowing the food but instead introducing more and more, cheese and meat together. Her cheeks round with the fullness, she bit on her own thumb and allowed some of her ichor to seep into the disgusting mix produced by her decaying mouth. In the end, she swallowed like a snake would eat its prey whole. It wasn't over.

The Nuit slipped what looked small iron balls with a hoop attached to them into her mouth and swallowed those, as well. Then, she start chanting a tune in a low, creepy monotone, her hands joined on her stomach. After a while, she stopped and bent over to empty her innards - as Nuits had no concept of vomit or a gag reflex, gravity had to do the job. The balls were the first to slip out of her gaping mouth, all seven of them. They were glowing slightly, an eerie, sickly off-white thing. Shalla took a length of thread and passed it through the hoops in each ball; finally, she tied the end with the beginning, thus forming a long "necklace" with seven weighted beads. She laid it down on the ground in a roughly circular shape.

"Step inside, this is our safe zone. Don't invite them in and we should be fine." After that, Shalla produced a bowl from their supplies and regurgitated the food inside. It was now reduced to some kind of thick paste, glowing in the darkness with the same sickly tint as the seven balls. This was Soulmist, the stuff of ghosts. Finally, Shalla left the bowl outside the circle and stepped in. "They need my permission to partake of this, as the one who created it... it's one of the laws. Now, all that's left to do is wait. It can take bells sometimes. It's better to have some patien..."

The Nuit could barely end the sentence, when a ghostly shape appeared out of nowhere and charged at the two of them, slamming into the invisible wall of the circle. The eerie lights cast by the iron balls shimmered for an instant from the hit, but the ghost bounced back, only to hug the unseen barrier that divided it from the duo. It wasn't Berliotz for sure. This one was the specter of some monk who had found his death down here. His robe and the rough beard gave him away. His ghostly tongue licked at the barrier like a dog, and he was frothing at the mouth. "Food..."

Shalla clenched her teeth. "A bit premature but altogether nothing to be worried about." Right there and then, another ghost was splattered against the other side of the barrier. This looked like a foreigner, maybe a Vantha... maybe the very same person who had descended five days prior. "It's fine... a circle of this caliber can withstand up to twenty ghosts... or so I have read."

Splat! A third ghost landed against the circle, this one a large Ivaski canine. Then another, and another. The iron balls started to move, if only barely, from the repeated impacts. "What the petch is this place? There can't be this many..." In the distance, a faint glow rose like a fake dawn. As it approached, Ialari could see that it was no single creature, bur rather a tide of massed ghosts headed straight towards them. They numbered in the hundreds... if they were lucky. Within seconds, the circle was completely surrounded by moaning ghosts, some knocking on the barrier, some feeling it, some staring right through it at the people inside with empty-socketed eyes.

This was some deep shyke they had gotten themselves in. She'd rather deal with the dead over the living. Was Ialari going to regret her words?

And amidst the crowd of grotesque apparitions, a few identical men stood motionless. They stood out sharply because of their red robes, their glowing eyes and because they carried themselves with far more elegance. Where most of the creatures were desperately hungry, these seemed more curious than anything else. Meanwhile, dozens of ghosts kept pressing against the barrier, with the weights placed on the ground retreating ever so slowly under the pressure.

[Ialari Pythone]

Ialari watched the spectacle of Shalla's ritual without outward disgust. Inside however, she couldn't help but wretch at the sight. The isur had witnessed a wide array of horrific things in her comparatively short live; short by isur standards, a newborn from a nuit's perspective, yet the ritual that Shalla performed was by far one of the worst. Forcing herself not to look away though wishing she had, Ialari took in the entire thing and through the fog of repulsion, she felt a tinge of envy. To be able to use one's own body, one's own strength of inner power, to produce such magic was far beyond what she could hope to create, at least at her current level of knowledge, was nothing short of awe-inspiring.

Ialari followed Shalla's instructions and remained inside the odd circle that had been created. When the first ghost appeared, the chill that rattled Ialari's body was unexpected at best. She had met the dredges of humanity and stood strong. She had killed others with her bare hands and thought little of it. She had spent extended periods of time in the presence of the undead and shook it off as just another odd experience. Yet now, with a hungry ghost but inches away, her strength wavered. Shalla's cut-short statement of hearing that her shield was strong enough to protect them caused her more alarm as she shot a frown of worry to her companion. With the second ghost's appearance and Shalla's reassurance that shield would hold, Ialari could only turn her gaze back to the incorporeal undead and give silent prayer for strength.

Then there were three, followed almost instantly by hundreds more.

Panic was growing as Ialari fought for her grip on patience harder than ever before. The feeling to run was almost too much yet she was smart enough to understand that such a thing would mean certain death, and worse.

"The time has come for you to right an ancient wrong, my child. Do not fail me." Her lord's words echoed in her mind and cut through her fear like an isurian axe through stone. It was then she caught a glimpse of the ghostly, red-robed, identical figures standing away from the horde. They carried themselves differently than the rest and the robes reminded her of the masters of Sahova. Swallowing her fear, or at least trying to, Ialari reached for the strength to speak.

Loudly she spoke, hoping her words would reach through the droning of the hungry dead, "This offering is for the entity, or entities, once known by the living name of, Master Berliotz and only he." Ialari glanced over at Shalla, gave a slight shrug, and looked back to the horde in hope and more than a little concern.

[Tarot]

As the hundreds of entities pressed against the barrier, releasing sparks of ethereal energies and making it shrink with their non-weight, the robed ghosts kept a polite distance away. It was only when the Isur explicitly mentioned the name of Master Berliotz that their curiosity seemed to be piqued. One of them raised a brow. They all had the face of a man in his late middle age, with short gray hair and sharply angled features, a very stiff upper lip and an air of refinement. "Interesting," the ghost's voice echoed through the Aperture. "It is a bit crude as offerings go, but your gesture is appreciated nonetheless."

Another Master Berliotz spoke from the other side. "I disagree. Actually, I find it almost insulting to be offered the juices of such a low-level practitioner, a metadead no less." Shalla muttered something along the lines of 'You're one to talk' under her breath. A third Berliotz chimed in. "As expected of two shoddy replicas, you are both missing the point here. Someone desperate enough to come up with this suicidal plan is not without an agenda."

"Oh, quit the 'replica' thing!" a fourth one exclaimed with an ominous finger pointed at the previous speaker. "Just because you retained the earliest memory doesn't make you the real one! A memory of being spanked, no less. Now, I got the memory of the very first spell."

A fifth Berliotz emerged from the rocky ground. "That's what you say," he accused. "All we've got is your word for it. You are the worst bunch of liars I have ever had to suffer in this life or the next."

More clones joined in on the discussion, which quickly moved from Ialari to the group's internal contrasts. In fact, the Isur was promptly forgotten as the party - ten of them - began squabbling amongst themselves. Meanwhile, the other ghosts were still assaulting the barrier. After yet another hit taken, a glowing ethereal crack split the air around Ialari, signaling that the protection was about to give up.

"What did you just say?" one of the Masters said, enraged at his peers. He started to glow more brightly and a burst of sickly green energy lit up the dark Aperture, knocking some random ghosts away. "Are you deaf, you raving buffoon?" Another burst of incredible power and some ghosts literally half-dissolved by just being close to the Masters. The lesser ghosts just panicked now. "They're gonna fight again! Let's get outta here!" a dead monk yelled as he slipped between two rocks and just vanished, quickly followed by dozens more. Within seconds the assembled throng of ghosts had fled the area post haste.

"We'll settle this later," a Berliotz stepped between two of his clashing brethren and separated them. "Let us deal with the women first."

Ten heads turned towards Ialari and Shalla, and suddenly the petty squabbles came to a halt. Instead of the ridiculous infighting, here were the dignified old men again. Their peculiar condition as well as lots of overgiving must have done something to Berliotz's mind to render them like this. "We are busy men," said one, straightening his robes, "but I think I'm speaking for everyone when I saw we can spare a moment for you."

"You are not speaking for me," muttered another Berliotz, but he quickly added, "but I can still spare a moment for the Isur."

[Ialari Pythone]

Ialari couldn't help but shy away a bit from the growing hordes of ghostly figures slamming themselves against the mystical barrier. For a moment, she forgot about the glimpses of red-robed figures among the undead legion. Though patient and confident, Ialari could feel the thin hairs on the back of her neck raise and a thick chill threaten to shatter her resolve. She held strong to the words of her lord and gripped tightly the thought that what she did was a part of a plan Izurdin had for her yet she couldn't help but feel something that hardly ever tickled her senses, fear.

It was then that an echoed voice cut through the cacophony of hungry cries. Having closed her eyes, they now shot open and focused immediately on the source of a number of growing voices; voices that rose above that of the undead legion. One, then another, then another red-robed figure stepped out of the shadows and spoke. They seemed to be having a conversation with one another yet one thing was growing certain, Ialari had found Master Berliotz.

Not forgotten however were the ghostly hordes slamming themselves against the only barrier keeping Ialari alive. A crack formed and worry bordered on panic for the isur. Then, just as sudden as the robed figures had appeared, their apparent argument elevated to a point that the ghostly horde immediately scattered. A buzz filled the air and an aura of energy crackled throughout the nearby area as the potential of great magic being unleashed hovered on the edge of reality. Then, without warning, the threat vanished with a few words from one of the red-robes.

Ialari could feel the stare of ten figures focused on her. When she realized she was being addressed and that the figures were all waiting on her, Ialari struggled to compose herself after the sudden flash of events that had just occurred.

Swallowing deeply and steadying herself against the onslaught of physical and emotional stress, Ialari spoke. "Masters Berliotz, I, Ialari Python Pitrius... Ialari used her full name, rarely vocalized to non-isur, "...humbly seek your knowledge of the now long forgotten among the living, discipline known as Dominion." Ialari, in a rare display of deference, bowed deeply to the assembled variations of Master Berliotz, and did her best to display the posture of a would-be student as they presented themselves to a would-be master.

[Tarot]

The ten wizards listened to what Ialari had to say, and she had been wise to make her speech quick and to the point, for their attention span obviously left a lot to be desired. They did not seem overtly surprised at what the Isur requested of them. "Oh, I should've thought of that. Another Dominion-seeker," one waved dismissively. "Already three, no four, of them this decade." Another nodded thoughtfully. "I guess it's business as usual, then. Backstory and then the deal?"

The others discussed the matter briefly, their acute rivalry apparently dimmed just a little, if nothing else because this was merely yet another installment in an ever repeating saga. Other had sought Dominion from their lips before Ialari was even born into this world, and none had succeeded, but at least the ten of them had long come to an agreement on this matter.

"Whose turn was it to give the backstory, the fluff?" one of them asked tiredly, stroking a chin that did not really exist. "I did it last time."

Curiously, there was some squabbling over this. No-one seemed to enjoy parroting the old story over and over again. In the end, one Berliotz reluctantly agreed to recount the story to Ialari. "All right, Dominion was an early gift from the gods. They were trying to cater to young mankind with useful presents, and so they thought they had so much spare room in the Ukalas that they may as well share a little of it with their new playthings. Having a piece of the Ukalas... a dream beyond a dream. Not only because you could store things there, or even go there yourself if you were so inclined, but because the Ukalas is the power itself. It is a state, not a place. You drop something there for a year, you can be sure it won't be left unchanged." His voice was still a little bored, but picked up in intensity as he told the story.

"Did people appreciate the gift? You bet they did. They loved it so much, in fact, that it quickly eclipsed most other forms of magic. Some wizards created their own kingdoms there, others borrowed its power to build mighty fortresses in the gods' own realms. Some battles were fought for those untamed lands, but mostly there was no reason to... because there was so much of it, right? You just had to claim your piece elsewhere. Within a few centuries the gods realized how naive they had been. This was early in the history of man - and just as man was inexperienced in the ways of the gods, the gods were still inexperienced in the ways of men.

A philosopher called it the 'tragedy of the commons'. The commons, a limited shared resource freely accessible to an entire community. Only, in this case, men perceived it to be unlimited, and they treated it as such. At first, every man takes an acre. Then one takes another acre and finds that there are no ill consequences from doing so. His neighbor concludes that he can take another acre, as well, only he doesn't want to be outdone and may as well take three. The more you take, the more power you have. And before you know it, the gods themselves are starting to feel tight in their own realm. You could say they brought it upon themselves by ignoring man's selfish nature. Regardless, the tragedy always ends the same way: man's greed destroys the commons. And in this case, you can't expect the gods to judge you kindly when you are overstepping the boundaries of their own sacred grounds.

They came down on us, hard. There were entire settlements that had been established on the Ukalas and simply vanished overnight. The darker gods of the pantheon - some you wouldn't even recognize as they are long gone - were given leave to destroy Domineers while the other deities turned a blind eye. It got so bad that the people themselves started killing those who knew Dominion and putting their heads on display on their walls in hopes that the gods could see them from above and spare their cities. Dark emissaries walked the lands, slaying those suspected of ever stepping on the Ukalas. Books were burned, towers crumbled. And then, there was only oblivion for thousands of years. Until we - I - we came."

The Berliotz pointed to his ghostly chest. He obviously took great pride in this discovery, and with good reason. He had brought back the discipline that had caused the first great incident between man and the gods. "I rediscovered Dominion, for the Chavi may forget, but what is ever learned can never be unlearned. No, the arrow of the cosmos only goes one way.

I reinvented it and kept it all to myself! All to myself. The only way to keep the tragedy from repeating, I sensed, was to keep it secret. It takes two to start a war, and if there's only one owner, there is nothing to be shared and nothing to be feared. And then, look at how I ended up." He gestured in the direction of his colleagues. Lhex sure had a wicked sense of humor. "Do not doubt for a second that the gods put this curse unto me. I am sure they did. And I only had claimed a few square miles for myself, just pittance in the vast lands of the Ukalas!"

"You were a body-splitting Morpher," Shalla interjected, "overgiving is a more likely explanation for this. You are simply in denial."

"SHUT UP!" Berliotz screeched, and there was red madness in his eyes for a second. His features turned fearsome, but then he reverted to his old calm self, as if nothing had happened. It was a useful warning, though - Berliotz had issues, serious ones. He - or they - was unstable. Shalla retreated quietly until she was almost behind Ialari.

"So this is how the story goes. Now the deal. We can tell you the secret words that open a First Door to the Ukalas, thus marking you as a Domineer. Never mind that you'll only find malice and ruin on the other side. The gods are just waiting to prey on your greed... they hold your hand as they walk you to the Abyss. And I will still tell you if you can make the ten of us whole again."

And so, the condition was spoken. To reunite the ten Berliotzs into a single being once more.

"It's not that we bear any great love to each other. We just can't stand to see each other's ugly faces day in and day out, and reunion is the only way out of this. We would have to possess your body, seeker of magic. All ten of us at the same time. You'd have to hold us inside you and help us merge into one being."

Shalla shook her hand quietly. "Ten ghosts as powerful as these are a huge hazard even for the most powerful Spiritist, let alone this merging inside you. That stuff isn't on any textbook I read. It's just insane. You'll just burst at the seams like a barrel." Shalla sounded worried: indeed, the prospect of losing Ialari down here was deeply unsettling to her. Without her eyes, her strength and her resources, Shalla was a sitting duck down here. She doubted she could even climb back to safety without help.

"It can be done," said the ghost, "it's just that no-one has been able to. Yet."

[Ialari Pythone]

Ialari listened to the story carried on voices long dead. The greed of man. It was something she knew all too well. As a child growing up in the Kingdom of Sultros, she often spent time in the trading posts; scattered, pre-Valterrian ruins, reconstructed and repurposed by the Isur in an effort to return industry and prosperity to land otherwise devoid of it. It was at those posts that the Isur traded with the various tribes of man; in exchange for food, tools and weapons, the humans provided information and items from lands outside of the Kingdom. If her father had known how often she stowed away in supply caravans heading to the posts, he would have locked her away for decades on end. She had been curious about humans. The years of her childhood had been filled with stories of how the humans brought ruin to the Old Kingdom; how their greed had awakened the wrath of the gods who in turn sundered the land and punished all beneath them. She always pictured humans as being terrible monsters who fed off the well-being of all they encountered. Though a frightening image, she could not help but want to see them in person.

As Berliotz spoke of human greed and the eventual destruction of all things tied to human knowledge of Dominion, Ialari still remembered her first encounter with humans.

She was but 20 years old; but a child as Isur go. She hid herself in a cart filled with barrels and crates destined for one of the closer trading posts. The trip lasted most of a day but seemed like much longer for the young girl filled with a mixture of excitement and fear at potentially seeing her first human. The caravan she was with rolled up to the gates of the trading post. Though infinitely smaller than the grand clan citadels, the post was still impressive in its own right. Ruined stone walls had been repaired and reinforced with Isurian muscle, sweat and skill. Towers had been been built to house elite crossbowmen belonging to Izurdin's Hammer; the Kingdom's military force. More of "The Hammer" patrolled the walls as the gates opened to allow the caravan to enter. The cart Ialari was hiding in came to a stop and she slipped out before anyone knew. She was surprised to see other children playing nearby. In fact, a number of families lived in and worked at the post.

It was early morning; the caravan having left early the previous evening. As the sun ascended higher in the sky, the main gates were opened. Ialari did her best to remain hidden amongst a nearby stash of supplies as she caught her first glimpse of humans. Their were nearly a dozen of them entering the post. A handful rode on horses; a creature Ialari had seen a few of back at her Citadel, while others were on foot. They brought with them a cart covered in animal hides meant to protect whatever cargo there was from the outside elements. The weather in the mountains and foothills of Kalea was oftentimes unpredictable thus protecting one's goods in such a way was wise. Ialari was surprised at such forethought coming from a being she had always imagined to be barbaric and thoughtless.

As the humans gathered in the courtyard, some Isur came to greet them. There were few introductions as both parties seemed cordial with one another yet no especially friendly. Ialari noted how much taller the humans were than the Isur as well as how ugly they were. Hairy, dirty and dressed in a variety of animal skins and furs, they were lean, almost sickly looking to the young girl who grew up in a society that valued physical perfection above most else. It was then that the two parties began, what to Ialari was the blessed communion of trade. The Isur handled it like an artform and an artform it was. Trade, commerce and industry was the ultimate form of worship within Isur society and the Isur at the post were well versed in it. They showed their wares; hammers, chisels, tongs, along with a variety of other tools. They had daggers, shortswords, shields and light armor along with fresh fruits and vegetables. The humans, revealing at last what was under the hide cover of their cart, had a wide array of trinkets, mostly junk from what Ialari could see, as well as a collection of animal hides, furs and items carved from bone.

She watched with great fascination as the two danced back and forth, bartering and negotiating. The fascination however quickly turned to repulsion as the humans wanted more and more for the garbage they had to offer. At first it was slight, but Ialari watched and listened as the humans displayed a level of greed that bordered on ravenous. In the end however, the Isur patience won out; enhanced most likely by the fact that the humans were vastly outnumbered in the event that negotiations turned sour. The Isur purchased the majority of the cartful of garbage for little more than a few crates of food and a handful of tools.

The memory was fresh in her mind as she continued to listen to the ghostly voice(s) speak of how man tried to make amends for their transgression by killing those thought to possess the forbidden knowledge.

Shalla's outburst followed by her retreat, irritated Ialari though only for a moment. The ghosts were not denying the Isur's request. It was surprising up until they revealed the price. They wanted to be free. They were weak; weak-minded, weak in body and will. They wanted to possess her in hopes of her being able to forge a single being out of the attempt. As she pondered the price, Shalla's warning did not go on deaf ears. Ialari was no master of any form of magic and the concept of what was being proposed was beyond her. As far as she knew, she was enough for her own body; the concept of taking in the essence of ten others was indeed immense.

Holding tightly to the words spoken by her Lord as well as gripping the memory of human greed, Ialari cleared her throat and swallowed the growing lump therein. "You speak of human greed; of a desire to take more and more where it is not theirs to take. It's no wonder the gods grew angry. Humans are by their very nature, greedy, weak and without care for anyone or anything but themselves. They squandered the gift of gifts and paid the price."

Ialari closed her eyes for a moment and gripped tightly the warmth within her; the warmth provided by her faith. "I'm not human nor do I seek power for the sake of power alone. I'm a seeker of knowledge; forbidden or otherwise and wish to prove that the folly of humankind is not that of all others. Humans failed the gods, but I won't. An ancient wrong was committed against those who created us and I will right that wrong in every way possible." Ialari viewed Berliotz story as being yet another transgression against the divine on the part of the humans. She would show the humans the error of their ways, piece by piece. She would embrace a gift beyond all others and prove to the gods that not all of their children are so insolent. She would send message after message to mankind that they are not the beginning and end of all.

She turned to look at Shalla with a visage of confidence and strength heightened by her grip on faith; faith that she would live up to the ultimate display of strength and patience. "When I first arrived at your Citadel, Drainira announced that there was something different about me. She said I possessed something magical, something unique but could not or would not elaborate. Surely she thought I would perish in her coup and dismissed it. What if what she saw was the key to all of this? What if I am the one meant to right this particular wrong committed so long ago? It may not work and I may be wholly destroyed. But...what if it does work? Imagine what could be done." Ialari turned back to Berliotz.

"Unlike the humans of old, I have faith in the gods and cherish them as being greater than we can imagine, much less ever be. It is my faith, physical and spiritual strength, among many other things, that sets me apart from those who have come to you and failed." With a vocalized prayer to Izurdin as well as one to all gods, long dead and still alive who were wronged by the follies of man, Ialari stepped from her protective circle and said, "I accept your terms." With that she wrapped herself in her faith, held it tightly and from it sought strength. She knew not what would happen or how she would turn out in the end, but she knew that this was one way to prove that she, as an Isur and as a child of Izurdin, was better than humankind.

[Tarot]

'Arrogant,' Shalla could not help but think as Ialari gave her speech, 'just like the ones she condemns... and even the Sahovan masters know better than to mix their arrogance with self-righteousness.' Yet there was convenience in staying on Ialari's side. She could get things done that the Nuit could not have done otherwise, and she had freed her. The arrogance, she could forgive; but the moral grounds on which the Isur based it would be her undoing, in the undead woman's eyes.

"So be it," she whispered at last, her breath cold and lifeless. "You were able to supervise Sahova in Drainira's stead for a chime or two without getting your mind fried in the process. Maybe this is just like then." Wishful thinking, she thought, but Ialari would not be moved from her plans, and to oppose her further would be counter-productive. Shalla was not the one making choices here.

"Ah, racism! One of the few sins I must have abstained from," said one of the Berliotz ten, smirking, "to tell you the truth we don't really care either way, as long as we're reunited. Me, I think you'll be doomed if you take up the forbidden arts, but more power to you if you can somehow fix the problem of the commons so history can't repeat itself. Let's see you fix us first, however."

The ghost turned expectantly to Shalla, who picked up the protective beads with some reluctance. With that, the barrier was gone. In a flash, the first Berliotz literally took off and flew into Ialari like a bolt of lightning across stormy air. She felt it physically, as if she'd been struck by a crossbolt bolt and the momentum sent her staggering back under Shalla's tense gaze. There was no way the Nuit could have driven these ghosts out of her if it came to that, and they all knew it.

Possession felt gross to the uninitiated; it always was. The biggest hurdle the beginning Spiritist always faced was getting over the feeling of being violated in the most intimate part of their soul. Dealing with an alien presence breathing inside you could easily drive someone insane. What they thought, you thought... sometimes in your own voice. This ghost was old, powerful and carried very unpleasant memories to boot. Incomplete memories, to be sure, but the ones he did bear were nothing Ialari would have wanted him to share.

Memories of flaying his apprentice alive to study the layers of muscle beneath were Berliotz's first present to his new spiritual landlady. He had been one of the best Morphers to walk the land in his generation, and here was how he made it that far. He never lost his good humor while he went about his grisly business, and as a final token of practical joking he shoved the screaming, flayed apprentice inside a barrel filled with salt. Having placed a lid upon the barrel, he proceeded to tap the upper side rhythmically, playing it like exotic drums to the muffled sounds of agony that came from within.

An abyss of insanity, some natural, some induced by overgiving. And the scenes of untold horror that played in Ialari's mind were just one tenth of the whole package. The second Berliotz struck her like the first had, and this time the spiritual impact sent the Isur to her knees. The new entity was like a dissonant version of the first - like listening to the same, horrible tune playing at a slightly slower speed. The two versions overlapped and fought each other, causing further dissonance. Here Berliotz was cutting a man in half - from crotch to head - to get the symmetry of Morphing just right. The man had been his brother.

Even if Ialari lived through this, she would feel dirty for months. Years. Maybe forever.

One more entered her, and she felt herself being struck in the face as if a boxer. By now her eyes were wide open and bloodshot, but strangely vacant. Her veins started throbbing and bulging. Scenes from the mage's twisted childhood played out in Ialari's mind, and the scary thing was that she could barely make out where her own memories ended and where Berliotz's began. The man had been abused by his uncle at a very young age, apparently. His evil had very deep roots and bore fearful fruit.

Then there was another injection, and then another. Shalla took a step back, even her cold Sahovan shell disturbed at what she was witnessing - Ialari seized by convulsions, her face turning an ashen color. "She is doing well," the sixth Berliotz told her, smiling, "everyone else died after the third." And then he followed his other selves into the Isur's body. Blood trickled down her nose as some of her veins started to rupture from the incredible stress.

One by one, the final four made their journey to the Isur's fallen form, each tossing her like a ragdoll as he went in. By now thin arcs of actual lightning, crackling blue electricity rocked her body, and Shalla would not have believed the tale had she been told it.

Inside her mind there was only chaos. Acts of evil piled up on each other. It was hard to believe Berliotz had caused as much pain and suffering as he had. He had uncovered Dominion by forcing minds to reminisce on lives long past, but the discovery had not been fast, nor kind on the victims of his experiments. These people had remembered some of their past lives, the old personalities mixing with the new like a two-headed lamb. At one point he had had an entire dungeon filled with them, fed not food but strange concoctions that were injected straight into their bowels by heartless golems.

And the knowledge of it all was tearing Ialari's mind apart. It was no surprise that Berliotz's self had simply exploded away; it repelled even itself. Not that it really mattered: for she would be dead within a chime or two unless she could somehow turn the tide of chaos and madness.

"Stand, my child," a distant male voice echoed through the collapsing walls of her mind, "let your eye be quick and your arm be strong. You are the World, and you are the Forge."

It was truth. It was, perhaps, the only truth that Ialari would ever need to hear.

[Ialari Pythone]

When the first ghost slammed into her, Ialari's mind exploded in a wave of chaos. As her own memories were flooded with those of the vile, horrific, completely mad, Berliotz, it was all she could do to hold on to her own. Amidst the terrible onslaught of brutal, disgusting, fully grotesque acts invading her mind from the fractured souls that assaulted her, Ialari remembered in vivid detail every single slight, crime and horror she had witnessed since her departure from Sultros. The slaughter of an Isurian trading post by human barbarian tribes, the brutal attack upon a merchant caravan by human soldiers baring the symbol of a white sun upon black cloth, the screams of a woman brutalized in the streets of a city she visited once yet the name now forgotten. Everything the fractured parts of the Sahovan Master rammed into her soul blended with her own hate-filled memories until they were one and the same.

The waves of painfilled memories beyond reason continued to infect every corner of her mind, body and soul. Who she was, what she was, started to split away, consumed by the unimaginable brought on by each and every piece Berliotz. Ialari desperately reached out to her faith, to her lord, Izurdin, God of Patience and Strength; she held onto the whole of it as it was quickly shredded by the ghostly onslaught.

She was on her knees. Every aspect of her being had been violated in ways that no being, sentient or otherwise would ever comprehend. Her blood flowed freely from unseen wounds. The unseen quickly presented itself as her body began to rip open in places; blood bursting from the surface. Her body, though strong and proud, was out of sync with her mind and soul which both had been shattered. Then her body finally began to fail. She could feel her strength slipping, her resolve and patience melting before her. She could see nothing and everything at once without any sense of control. To one as devout as Ialari, the loss of strength in every sense of the word was the ultimate defeat.

When she was about to let go of the last thing that remained, her faith, she heard once more the voice. Immediately, without pause and with strength beyond all reason, the voice, that voice, filled the void created by Berliotz. Her lord had spoken and Ialari would answer. Her eyes, bloodshot, straining in their sockets and open for too long, blinked once and the contortion of her face, with great strain, righted itself. Her metallic, black fist, clenched as her arm flexed; the muscles grinding with the sound of metal on metal. Raising that clenched fist, Ialari's lips parted as she shouted out; her cry echoing off the walls of the Aperture. With that, she slammed her fist into the ground, shattering stone beneath and sending shards in all directions. She then raised from the ground to one knee; the struggle clear on her face. The blue electricity that had rocked her body, continued while bouncing bolts from the ground to the walls and all around.

From one knee, Ialari rose; body broken and bleeding, mind and soul following suit, only her faith and her driving goal keeping her together. A whisper slithered from her parted lips, "I..am the world...I am the forge...I WILL be strong..."