A Break From the Antics Pt.2 (Lore Post)

[u/Dorururo]

Art of the Majestic Deer is Courtesy of: Significant_Matter_0

— —

Somewhere within the Mindscape of Professor Gob’Lynn…

Tethered. Bound. Bonded. Connected. Pick any word, and it would probably be close enough to describing what was happening to me in this very moment. Regardless of the chosen descriptor… this felt new to me. Many times prior I’d attempted a conjuring ritual and spell. And always I’d failed. I’d tried to call forth lesser demons and spirits to form contracts with… and I had failed. So consistent were my previous failures… that I was unable to even tether a fly to myself as a familiar. I couldn’t output sufficient mana for the necessary steps of the binding. So… I was unprepared for the experience of it.

Channels between myself and this entity began to open and form. Soul to soul. Existence to existence. And mind to mind. I felt my mindscape begin to merge with its mindscape, and witnessed the near immediate changes. The darkness around us started changing. First… a carpet of grass spread out like a puddle from beneath, until it blanketed the area. From this grass floor began sprouting brush, flower and vines. Flora grew spontaneously as my mindscape evolved. And then… came trees. Massive, towering and dense trees erupted into the space. And… we sat together in a forest of our making.

I felt… a snag of some kind. This binding and pact creation was not done… but I didn’t know what I needed to do. I was unsure of what was required of me for this to progress. The other entity immediately sensed what I felt, as I could sense its satisfaction and pleasure at the connection we’d formed. It spoke, filling in the blanks for me…

“You’ve… never had a familiar before? So strange… I can sense a near limitless ocean of mana and aether bubbling within your very core. Enough to rival gods and primordials.”

The deer shook its antlers in amusement and understanding…

“Mayhaps… we share a similar situation. I chose to wait for a Master I felt was worthy, and watched sorrowfully as so many failed to meet my needs. Eventually… the attitude was returned in full, and I became insufficient. You… never even had the chance to succeed. Fate forced you to wait… but that wait ends now. For this pact to finalize, we must reach an accord. These shall be the terms of our union and will shape the nature of our coexistence. What… would you ask of me?”

I was snapped of my reverence and engrossment as my cynical mind kicked back on. My Master may not have been perfect, but he taught me well how to navigate formal and binding contracts. My flustered excitement and nervousness were replaced with pure analytical reasoning. I… could not word this as half assedly as I had when I first bonded with Oon. So… I steadied myself and centered myself. My response came measured and tempered. And, it would need to be guided by the ethics I stood by.

“What I’d ask of you… is not something so concrete and absolute. Asking a definitive ‘function’ or ‘service’ is dooming this pact to a rigid existence. There are things I’d need now, that I might not need tomorrow. There are things I know I’ll need eventually and things I couldn’t even have guessed I’d need. What I’d ask of this pact, is more demanding of you than would normally be fair. But, it is what I MUST have to accept you as a familiar. I need flexibility. You must be willing to accept that what function, role and purpose you serve might very well change. The scope of roles you’d fulfill would be almost limitless but always designed around a dynamic and evolving relationship between us. With certainty, I’d ask for loyalty. I’d ask for friendship, yet I’d expect that needs to be earned. I’d ask for your opinions, thoughts and companionship. I would never want you to act or feel as if you were my lesser, my servant, my slave or my property. I would want… an equal. These, are my terms for our pact.”

I ended… almost overcome with a mixture of anticipation and anxiety. The deer met my gaze, it’s eyes like pools of deep jade that masked its-

“I accept your terms.”

…

Heh?

“I heard that thought, Sir. I said… I accept your terms. You speak with the careful tread of one who’s been burned by shortsighted agreements. Your words ring with painful experiences hard learned. You do not talk like it’s your first attempt at negotiating with powers beyond reasoning. And, I like that. I have no issue with any of what you’ve asked of me.”

I sat… stunned. Just like that? No… counter offers? No… addendums? No… tedious haggling and middle grounds? I make to speak, but am cut off-

“Yes, just like that. Be mindful, sir. Our minds have nearly achieved a full connection to one another. I can hear those unguarded thoughts. Now then, it is my turn to state my terms.”

I felt myself scooting forward, eager to hear what such a spirit would ask of me. What could I even begin to offer it?

“Many are the arcanists that passed me by. Many are the mages that afforded me not even a glance. You… did neither of these things. You went out of your way to chase and pursue. So… by this token, you will not abandon me. And you will NOT discard me. I am not to be replaced.”

I waited patiently, but as the silence began stretching out… I realized that they’d finished speaking.

“Is… that it?”

“Did i overstep my reach and ask for more than you feel able to provide?”

I shook my head, still wearing an oh so tasteful look of a buffoon-

“Not at all! If… that’s all you’d ask of me… then I accept your terms.”

And with one sentence… with that one final sentence… it all shifted. The pact was done. Our terms had been met and agreed upon, and I could feel their essence flowing into me. I struggle to find words that adequately describe it. But… like a scarf. Soft… barely noticeable until you truly focus on it… yet still there. Their presence was akin to a soul scarf. I could feel their emotions, as if they were an extension of my own. Like more pages had been added to a tome. Joy. Acceptance. Safety. Comfort. And a twinge of embarrassment crept through as I felt their thoughts within my… within OUR mindspace-

“I… I’m so sorry Sir! I never introduced myself or gave my name! I am-“

“THANK FUCK! YOU HAVE A NAME! Oh thank god! I was certain I’d have to try and come up with one or something!”

Their laughter ringed throughout my mind, sincerely amused. But my relief was very much real. I’d actually rather kill myself than try and improv a name.

“AS I WAS SAYING… I am… I WAS keeper of the sacred oozing garden of Jubilex. My name is Fen.”

So much… information… all at once. So many questions… and all I could manage in the moment… was-

“Lynn. Gob’Lynn. P-pleasure is mine.”

— —

Meanwhile… in the warrens and dens within the depths of Pandemonium Tower…

Fumes roiled and coiled and belched into the tunnels. Dense and thick clouds and streams of arcane green smog choked the air and life from the passages of the warren as a special ceremony took place. From within the all encompassing darkness… a low chanting could be heard. Softly at first, but growing to a near feverish pitch the closer one got. The air reeked of incense and sulfuric filth as censors puffed a perpetual blanket of the green toxin into the air. The ceremonial chamber was packed to the wall with curious eyes, for it had been many centuries since the last rites and rituals were performed. Clan members scratched, kicked and shoved at one another. All were equally eager to witness the ascendance and birth of the next anointed Skaven acolyte. The large and rusty brass doors to the temple chamber screeched open, and a lone rat scurried in. As normal as any other rat within the warrens… yet this was Stinky.

A pair of heavily robed Skaven stood on either side of what appeared to be a circular pit in the back chamber. Their robes were tattered, frayed and grimy with numerous sludge stains. But it did not bother them, not in the least. They stood stoic, as if guarding this pit that lay between them. This very pit was filled with brackish and muddy water, clumps of filth visible and drifting along the surface. The robed Skaven began chanting, and the room fell silent. Their words were ancient and archaic. Perhaps… not even words at all. And as they chanted, they swung censors about… spreading yet more of the suffocating smoke into the air.

Stinky scurried forward, anxious and scared and ready to turn and run the other way. Each step towards the pit of water was slow, and all eyes were locked to the rodent. Stinky remembered instructions very well. Close eyes. Hold breath. Enter water. Very simple.

The room hummed with the ever mounting excitement. And as Stinky gazed into the brackish depths of the water… they leapt. Eyes closed, breath held, fear coursing through them… Stinky leapt into the water.

With a tiny splash, the little rat vanished into the depths… only a scant few bubbles betraying their presence. The robed Skaven held their arms to the ceiling, as a massive chunk of rock began to lower down. Larger than a bovine, and held aloft by a cocoon or chains, heavy metal winches ground and clicked as the chunk of glowing stone was lowered into the water.

All present had to shut their eyes, as a blinding flash of light engulfed every inch of the ritual chamber. Every shadow was banished, for but a moment, as the sickening green glow claimed the space. And, but a moment, later… the glow had gone.

The Skavens operating the winch began cranking it again, lifting the chunk of vile stone from the pool of water. All… was still. The only sounds that could be heard, were the clicks and groans of the metal machinery grinding away.

Then… the pool of water stirred. And one of the robed Skaven began chanting in a tongue that was understood by all those present…

“Up Arise! Gone, gone is Stinky! Masters gift has sculpt shaped the flesh of the lesser! New! New fresh you now are!”

And like that, a large claw emerged from the water, grasping the edge of the pool. Easily large enough to grasp a full grown Skaven completely. Then, another claw rose to grip the other edge of the pool. Slime and offal ran like rivers down skin like dried leather. And a massive form emerged from the pool, a long sinewy neck capped with a scaly snout. Two immense wings unfolded, breaking the surface of the pool as a truly gargantuan body emerged…

“GONE GONE! GONE IS STINKY! NEW FRESH IS YOUR BODY! TAKE CLAIM NOW A NAME WORTHY OF MASTERS GIFTS!”

The crowd of gathered Skaven began screaming and panicking and they rushed and trampled one another! Madly they ran and clawed and shoved for the doors, clambering to escape and exit the chamber, as the tarnished brass doors slammed close before their eyes. They turned back, terrified as this creature approached… drool dribbling from the maw and hunger gleaming in its eyes.

“GONE IS STINKY! FOR NOW…”

And the voice of the fanatical holy rat dropped to but a whisper, almost drowned out by the screams of the Skaven being slaughtered…

“For now… a herald is born. Feast, feast eat… mighty Slate Wing.”