Veil Of Chaos: B1 — 1. Veil Of Chaos

Veil Of Chaos Index

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Docs Inline Edits:  For those that want to help with suggestions or input.

Volume 1 System Sheets

PoV:

1. Slaver/Merchant

2. Monster

3. Goblin

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In the nation of Tenebrin, Mentris—the twin city human stronghold—drew many refugees from the north for safety as the king prepared their summoning ritual for the ominous event that was about to take place.

Their nation needed all the help they could get to combat the three-decade-long war to the north, fighting the devils and demons that ravaged the land; it had been the worst event since The Sundering—exactly eight centuries prior—when the gods’ mythical champions each collided in a ferocious battle that had devastated nearly every landmass.

However, the reincarnates that came after that conflict rebuilt the world, drawing many to follow the saints’ gods that they patroned, which was how Tenebrin came to call Titania—the chaotic good fate goddess—its national deity of favor.

A white moon encircled by a halo shone through the intricate glass ceiling high above them; in the grand castle’s holy summoning chambers, all celestial objects were clear to display their terrifying wonder.

The king’s apprehensive gaze drifted to a crimson sphere that hovered near the alabaster globe, glittering demon wings causing ripples across the atmosphere as they neared each other, right on course to be overlapped by the radiant moon.

To complete this unholy trinity, Prime’s green, serpent-eyed satellite would slide behind the other two; it was unusual for the lush moon to be at the back of this ceaseless cycle, yet where each one was positioned and the changes they underwent differed every decade.

The Veil of Chaos was about to begin when the nine greater gods sent their champions into the material planes; it would last a week, sending mysterious and unusual events to pepper their apprehensive world.

In fact, it was the evil reincarnates three decades prior—4th-Cyclers—who had carefully timed their breach to Baailor that had created the hellspawn-ridden north and crushed the previous republic of that once great land.

Naturally, they’d be performing this ritual to welcome the possible new reincarnates that Titania would send during this event; the king had boasted the news far and wide that they may bring new champions into their lands.

He donated liberally to specific temples that were dedicated to Titania; at least, that was what he’d led the citizens to believe.  In truth, many of the principles taught and expounded therein were more in line with his favored deity—the Holy Emperor.

The lawful good god would soon be most venerated in this land than the worthless fae, and his father had been the one to take their nation down this path, which he would see done; it would pave the way for a more structured, lawful reign that many in his court desired.

He hoped to go another Cycle without the fear of entertaining more reincarnates from the fae goddess; sadly, the signs pointed that there would be one, and he had to keep up appearances.

Still, he might be able to coax the three possible reincarnates into abandoning the fae goddess, depending on how young they were; the three 2nd-Cyclers that had espoused the deity were utterly blind to the real needs of their kingdom, so he wasn’t saddened by the Hunter, Cleric, and Wizard’s loss a year prior.

The powerful reincarnates of the goddess were shockingly powerful for only being a group of three and had made substantial gains against the Devil and Demon host to the north in the eight years they’d dedicated to the area.

Yet, on their final push into the infernal converted, well-defended city capital of the north, attempting to close the portal to Baailor once and for all, they’d mysteriously been slain; all they knew was that a new devilish lieutenant had won ownership of the portal in the Infernal Pits.

Their bodies were hung from the battlement, shaking the soldiers’ morale, but fortunately, the Holy Emperor’s reincarnates were there to pick up the slack, furthering his goal.

Personally, though it was tragic and set them back, the king had celebrated a tad for the man and women’s fall, allowing his own favored patron to become more focused on claiming this territory and offering him aid.

Humans should worship their own race’s creator instead of the mercurial fae; a nation steeped in centuries of worship was difficult to curve, yet the king had found much support from the Holy Emperor, and his powerful reincarnates since taking prominence in the nation as its protectors.

Oddly enough, it helped that the fae goddess seemed to have taken a leave of absence since the rift to the north appeared, and most of the previous reincarnates vanished during that gateway’s opening; her 2nd-Cyclers were just too monstrous and stubborn to be properly guided.

He didn’t want any new arrivals from Titania, but his recent dreams and the fae’s Druids he kept close by weren’t giving him comfort as the celestial event drew nigh.

He gripped his powerful scepter, glancing left and right at the crowd he’d gathered for the channeling; a mix of Titania’s Druids and Clerics performed the ritual, but his focus was on the second most influential figure in his nation, Marquess Stephan Delmore.

The man’s neatly groomed hair was beginning to show silver; the king’s father had warned him of the marquess.

Six centuries ago, there was almost a war that had ruined the kingdom—a fight over the Infinite Dungeon, near the march’s capital—and the reincarnates of Titania had been the determining factor in that conflict, as well.

At that time, the march wasn’t technically a part of the kingdom, and in the end, it was settled that there would be a poultry tax given to them as title and deeds of ownership presented, allowing the march to be completely self-governed.

Stephan’s regal wardrobe of mysterious artifacts showed the bountiful wealth they’d accumulated since.  Yet, the man’s glorious inheritance was running out since the Infinite Dungeon didn’t turn out to be so bottomless as it decayed, year after year in the eight centuries it had been active.

Still, even if he didn’t like the man, he needed the high-leveled marquess since all of the nation’s most potent individuals that had the Appraise Feat were busy to the north after the previous reincarnate’s blunders at stopping the horde.

Unfortunately, he’d relied on others to perform the task rather than leveling his Feat, which currently sat at E-tier—better than F-tier; this would be the last time he performed a ritual for the fae goddess, he swore, looking up at the sky in the holy chambers of his expansive castle.

The three foreboding moons performed their 10-year cycle, and a pulse rippled through his breast as they came into alignment, trepidation soaking his armpit; the king’s mouth slackened as something new happened, sending a chill through him as gasps and mutters sounded throughout the large chamber, filled with prayers.

The white halo erupted with bloody flames, tightening the king’s gut; this had never happened since The Sundering; this had to be an omen of good intentions gone wrong.

Behind it—the crimson-winged Devil Moon purified a brilliant ivory shade, obtaining a pearlescent luster—and to complete the unholy trinity, the lush green serpent’s eye dilated a sapphire tint that bathed the spheres in cobalt hues.

Calamity was upon them.

A green and orange radiance at the center of the summoning circle pushed all of them back, sending the sweet scent of summer and a warm breeze to press against his skin, and when it lifted, three reincarnates stood at the ritual’s center—a gnome and wood elf teenager… and a dark elf.

Cries sounded around the room as guards took up arms, and the king stepped closer to the marquess, hissing, “Is there a false priest or priestess of The Spider that infiltrated my court and hijacked the ritual?!”

Stephan’s calculating hazel eyes were glowing, yet the man’s calm face and demeanor gave nothing away as he whispered back, “The dark elf is a follower of Titania…  Damon is his name.”

“His alignments?”

“Chaotic good, chaotic neutral, and neutral good, being the least, and his Worship-tier is E—the other two are Worship-tier F.”

F-tier was easily swayable, but the king’s gut churned as the reincarnates held up their hands in surprise at the hostile welcome; a dark elf reincarnate that served Titania could spark a massive shift in perspective for his nation, one that might harm many people who might think those that dwelt in the Darkvein were changing their ways from worshiping the chaotic evil goddess.

A plot birthed in the king’s mind; this Damon dark elf was a threat to the order of his kingdom and everything he wanted to bring about, yet it also presented an opportunity he couldn’t pass up—it was time to pull the trigger on everything he’d been planning.

Only several seconds had passed since their arrival, and the king held up his scepter, calling upon the powerful magics it was infused with to direct it at the confused, obsidian-skinned elf and called upon the weaker Feats of the Legendary Artifact.

[C-tier] Mind Blank

Damon crumpled to the floor, causing the teenage wood elf girl and gnome boy to panic, but the king stepped forward with a soothing tone—they wouldn’t remember much of their encounter with Titania, as reincarnates rarely did—and he could convince them this was the right direction.

[C-tier] Aura of Peace

His robe’s Feat activating, he engaged with a worried tone, wondering if they were alright—a dark elf intruder had snuck into their ritual.

He paid close attention to Stephan, but the powerful Rogue’s thoughts were hidden behind a perfect mask; the man was loyal to the kingdom more so than a deity, which had him at odds with specific circles.

The king doubted he would stick his neck out for some reincarnate that had been stupid enough to keep nearly all his Feat Points unspent; this reincarnate was a total failure, but even failures had their uses.

He turned to his Head Knight and ordered the dark elf to be brought to the Royal Courthouse; the assembly would be called and judgment cast—for the nation’s good, Damon would be hung at the gallows the following morning.

Of course, he knew someone would try to save him—someone in the shadows he’d been unable to pinpoint—and this was the perfect opportunity to bait them out.

Gods had strict rules, and they had to obey them, or else chaos would abound; luckily, all the deities—even the chaotic—played by the same book, for whatever reason, which made predicting certain things more manageable.

The king removed himself with a few excuses to contact his favored patron—the Holy Emperor would undoubtedly have already moved on this fortuitous moment—the king was sure of it, either Brand or Tate was on their way to clip the wings of this mysterious figure who had been a thorn in their god’s side.

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