And so it was time. Tema had accidentally fast-tracked her own plan by cleaving her stone in Cassiopeia, which had left her in a mad dash to the altar. She did not plod slowly into the hole, this time, but rather she bolted to lay herself at It's feet. Nose made contact with oil stone, her usual prayer, before she set to work.
Diligently, obediently, she laid her stones in the oil pool on the cave floor, inspecting each one for potential. All but the shell. She would revive it, someday, but she did not want her first litter, her 'test' litter to be with Sunny's stone. She would give it its purpose, she promised. She would allow it to serve the Void as it always should have. But not today.
She spent some time there, sitting, staring, before she settled on which ones to raise as soldiers. This litter would consist of the brown agate, she decided. It was a sharp-looking stone, maybe a horn from some long-lost beast. With no way of knowing, she tucked the stone neatly beside the altar, leaving ample room for it to grow. She did not know how large it would hatch, but given her own genes, she assumed it would need at least a few feet of space. "My gift, finally delivered. My first child, your first soldier." She spoke to the air, the presence of Chaos not lost in its thickness. Whispers swelled all around her, and she swore she saw the floor's oil embrace the stone.
Satisfied with her first choice, Tema felt for her magic, guilt-riddled as she cast; she had still not fully corrupted in her haste. She was close, though, if the Void could see its influence on her.
Both the voices--still indistinct but raucous now, like a prodded nest of hornets--and the smoke, both rose to fill the air in a way that was choking, hot, claustrophobic. It pressed in, the pressure from all sides too much, too much, a keening pain pressing on Tema's ears and crushing her toward the ground.
Then-... it eased, just a little.
The smoke curled around the agate, as if cradling it-... no, inspecting it. The beast already growing within was at once Touched.
Corrupted.
Converted.
Merely an instant, and the dull rock (pale beneath the Voidlight, half shrouded by smoke) was already slicked with sickly rainbow reflections, twisted to Corruption.
Altered to better Serve.
"CLAWS AND FANGS, TO REND AND TEAR," the voice boomed, and though it reverberated with power, it sounded almost... pleased. The smoke brushed past, then, both caressing and somehow burning, as it receded into nothing.
Tema has gained 5 Corruption Points from this encounter. The child within the stone will hatch Corrupted element, and it will hatch with horns curved downward and then back up, forward-facing, like rams' horns.
@Tema
The pain was unbearable for a moment, pressure from all sides rather than the usual being swept off her feet. It was intentional, she thought; a punishment for her lacking devotion. Something to be remedied, and quickly. What kind of influence, no, what kind of Mother would she be? It was almost sad to think that her children would not face the same hardships, the same trials that she did to prove their faith. They would simply be born into it, blessed with the power that she still longed for.
The smoke, Chaos' active presence, rose and swirled, choking Tema as she watched it reach for her offering, her child. Brown agate began to gleam like oilstone, filling with smoke and oil as magic twisted it, reshaping it into something stronger, something better. The Void had accepted it.
Tema accepted the comforting, searing caress of void-smoke with a smile, diving back into her satchel with fervour. Sunny's stone was shoved aside, followed by the dioptase after a moment of consideration, in favour of... Oilstone.
"I have one more for you." She began, a sing-song voice that she hadn't heard herself use in cycles announcing her next addition. "Your second soldier." She settled its weight in her paw, careful to get a good grip on the uneven shape before she was to remove it from the bag. "An old friend, perhaps?" She was beaming at this point as she revealed her decision, the oilstone that she had received from the Masked Merchant for her help in awakening the Dreamer. It was spine-like, but uneven, almost like it had been half melted. Her only indication of what might lay within was that it was an oilstone, and she hoped reuniting it with the Void would be a service to it.
Only a surge of power, its pressure so powerful her ears popped and then bled, the weight crushing Tema to the stone below. It was as though this place had filled with water, and kept filling, until it was condensed, compressed, impossibly thick; only it wasn't water at all, but a presence.
Then-...
It receded, like some black sea's tide drawing away. Blessedly, thankfully, it was gone; yet in its place was a sense of approval.
This child's sleep, though Tema could not know it, would not be dreamless. The moment their brain had developed enough, they would begin to Dream... or perhaps it was Nightmare. Their whole long incubation within the Hole would be one of horrors and bloodshed, whether they rejected it, abhorred it, feared it, or embraced it... They would awaken with memories not their own: long visions of ancient, brutal battles; of assassinations and savage hunts. They would dream of alien worlds, of vast skies and bloodied sands beneath.
This child will awaken with nightmarish memories of combat knowledge. They may choose one additional physical combat Technique in addition to their starting spell, tactic or technique.
@Tema
Another reminder of its presence, of its power, filled the room. She had almost drowned, once. This was worse. A crushing feeling, a pressure that she could barely withstand until she couldn't, and then the pop. A roar of pain, drowned out by the thickness in the air, or maybe it was just her lack of eardrums. She felt the trail of blood, a trickle of thick heat, before the wave seemed to subside.
It was a strange form of thanks, she had come to believe. The stronger its presence, the more pain it caused her... It was the only way it could express itself. The whispers were mere reminders of its existence, but its tangible presence in the very room she stood in? Well, laid in, now. That was its praise.
And so it was done. Her children were touched and changed, reformed in the womb into something more suitable for her needs. They would be safe, here. Few came close to the altar if they did not seek its guidance. Even so, she would be close. For now, she needed to rest. To heal her aching ears, and to recoup the energy she had lost by giving life. It was a taxing thing, and she could only hope it would all be worth it.