101 Face To Face (1/2)

A female dark elf quietly and piously knelt in front of her homemade shrine. She was kneeling in her personal chambers and was quietly attempting to quiet the loud voices in her mind. The object she was devotedly praying too could have been interpreted as a sign of her broken mind or as an accurate representation of the formless, lightless god she devoted herself too.

A small, square block of obsidian was placed on top of a small table, and that was the object to which Milene Ardor was quietly praying. That said it wasn't what she was worshipping.

She was an Althonian, but one whose mind was brutally claimed by her master in a move meant to weaken her family. It had worked, and the days since Milene's mind had been attacked and claimed by her master had been the easiest days the Ardor family's slaves could remember.

Not once had their vicious daughter used them for experiments or made their work harder, indeed she had even started to punish her family members who slaked their bloodthirst on the slaves. None of them knew why, as the dark elf hadn't explained her new religion to them, but they were grateful for the reprieve.

The rest of her family, at least the leadership of it, hated Althos. Althos hadn't shown a single member of the family kindness, indeed he had actively brutalized them. Not only did he make them sick, but he also made them suffer persistent nightmares. The deity had even walked into some of their dreams and watched their suffering.

Only Milene had been spared the cruelties of restless sleep and constant nightmares. And she was the only member of her family who would have liked to have them. She would have enjoyed knowing her suffering amusing her master.

The dark-elf, a relatively young member of her species, was on her knees. Words of love and piety escaped her lips, and her mind was filled with thoughts of devotion to her master. She was so focused on her prayers that she didn't even sense her master warping into her chambers.

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In an instant, I went from walking through the streets of Aronms to standing inside of Milene's personal chambers. I was alone, or rather I had been when I teleported.

My last order to Sombra had been to go to my tower and construct a demonic conjuring circle on the top floor. I planned to go ahead and gain the first tier of influence over conjuration magic when I was done here.

In front of me, Milene was kneeling and facing something odd: a small, square block of obsidian. I was keenly aware that she was praying, and I could physically hear her utterances of love and devotion. I silently walked over to the obsidian and grabbed it. When I did, Milene fell silent.

I turned and looked at her. She was staring back at me, and there was an odd look in her eyes. The emotion that emanated from her pitch-black, appropriately obsidian-like, eyes was one that mixed love, devotion, and hope. It was the first time I had ever seen such emotion in a dark elf's eyes, though whenever I stared into Drow's eyes I could see vaguely similar emotions. Milene's eyes were locked onto my form and her lips trembled as she began to ask me a question.

”Are you... Are you Althos?” She asked, awe filling her voice as she did so. I chuckled and nodded at her. Tears began to fill and then stream down her large eyes. I turned and then targeted the block of obsidian.

I had long ago mastered my ability to use an unlimited form of telekinesis. I targeted the block of obsidian and lifted it into the air and silently brought it over to me. It was a roughly hewn and treated block, and it wasn't magical in any particular way. After studying it for a few moments I turned to my servant and began to question her.

”Were you praying to this block?” I asked, mostly rhetorically. I was trying to wrap my mind around it. It was an odd action and one that frankly made no sense to me. Milene nodded at me, her eyes lighting up with excitement even as tears continued to roll down them.

”Yes I was! I didn't know what you looked like... I still don't know what you look like.” She explained and then wisely added. I chuckled and mentally conceded that that was a good point.

”I don't have a true form. The old gods did, but I don't. Not by choice, mind you. I came to life lacking one.” I explained, grinning at the dark elf. She looked at me sympathetically, and I laughed at the expression on her face.

”I don't particularly want one. Not having a true form isn't a weakness. It's certainly odd, but it's far from a weakness.” I told the dark-elf. I could tell she was waiting for me to expand on that after a few moments went by when she didn't make any remarks. I sighed and then went ahead and did so.

”Not having a true form makes it easier for me to expand my church.” I told the dark-elf, satisfied with that explanation. She mulled over my words for a few moments before nodding and smiling in understanding.