Edric was passing through Polaris when he had a sudden thought. If the Spire in Draco could be a conduit for the Voices to commune with him, then... what about the Spire in Polaris? Most of it was crackling blue with an energy that felt distinctly different from either the Draco Spire or the Altar in Tunnel K, but then again the Black Spire and the Altar felt different from each other, too. One was... warm and breathing, and the other felt very much cold and dead. And yet... both had Spoken to Edric. Both had chosen him.

He decided to investigate. Upon drawing close to the Polaris Spire, he discovered that it was not as Cheerfully Blue as he had thought! Ominous, dark cracks in the rock beneath glinted promisingly up at Edric. As a creature who had trouble looking up above his head, Edric felt uniquely suited to investigate these cracks below. He lowered his head to snuffle about at the glinting, Oily veins. Was there perhaps a way to break off a piece here, too, and consume it in the same way as he had in Draco...?


+2 pts spire intxn (7 total)

The threads of oily black in and around the Spire were mostly of the Oilstone variety. That which lay beneath... some was, certainly. The sort that, if Edric did consume it, would burn hot through his gut and enflame that power that roared through his veins.

The other, including much of what lay below, was a symptom of a different infection, albeit similar in appearance: Epidote.

These veins were less smooth and slick, and more jaggedly crystalline. While portions appeared glass-smooth, as if a river of crystal had flowed here, others bore almost growths protruding upward. These often took the form of sharp angles, like blunted arrows sticking skyward. Other pieces seemed to have gradually spread upward, like claws reaching from the stone.

Though it'd be hard to get leverage to break one physically, a strong enough magic would more easily blast some free, provided it was done far enough not to provoke the Spire's backlash of power.

@Edric

Edric grew very quickly frustrated with the seeming impossibleness of breaking off a piece of the oily stone to consume. They were veined through the Spire, and he could not get any leverage to break them off. After fruitlessly pushing his nose around on them a lot, he decided to try a different strategy.

Now, Edric had never used magic before in his life. However, he still remembered the thrum and thrilling power that ran through him, unconsciously erupting dripping Oily tentacles from his body that fell and melted all in a puddle at his feet. And he remembered the Voices' unrestrained delight when he'd offered them oil at the Altar. He recalled the feeling of tentacles reaching from his body and replicated it. A dripping black tentacle curled from his shoulder, and Edric took it in his mouth, gritted his teeth, and RIPPED!!! it off. Flesh tore in a sickening squelch and he made an embarrassing whimpering noise as searing pain tore through his shoulder, but he maintained his grasp on the tentacle. Oil leaked freely into his mouth, and Edric took an unashamed swallow.

The bulk of it would not be for him, though. Edric took the tentacle and smeared the weeping end of it across the cracks in the Spire, painting them with Oil. He shook it, sending Oil splashing, and finished by tossing the entire thing at the foot of the Spire. He waited eagerly to see if the rocks would approve.


+1 magic exposure, +2 Oil consumption, 10 total

Being this close was dangerous, and the power of the Spire began to crackle as Edric drew near.

The occasional flashes of lightning-like magic, discharging violently but randomly, seemed to grow closer to Edric's location as he came within touching distance; one zapped the ground only a few feet off, a hiss of steam rising from the rock.

Oil dripped across it; the parts of Spire (both Oilstone and Skystone) that touched it hissed too, the Oil boiling away in a foul-smelling acrid cloud.

Nothing else happened, though the energy here was enough to stand hair (or fur, or bristles) on end, the sense of growing threat a strong one.

@Edric

He felt... rejected, even a little crestfallen, that the Spire rejected his offering, boiling away the Oil with a hiss. The Voices at the Altar had liked his offering of Oil. Was his Oil now... not good enough for this Spire? Edric felt... hurt. And frustrated. What did he have to do to earn their approval again? Their attention?

He leaned toward the Oily cracks again, struggling and failing to find a way to break a piece off. It was impossible. Fed up with his inability to consume and devour it, Edric settled for the next best thing. Licking it. Just let him get a little bit in his mouth, PLEASE. ONLY A LITTLE TASTE.

But Edric was not a delicate, precise creature by any means. The Oily veins were not very easy to target precisely. Rather than giving him a taste of that delicious black rock again, his tongue contacted fully, and only, the blue rocks. Edric's eyes widened with disgust--THIS WASN'T WHAT HE WANTED! BLUE IS THE LEAST DELICIOUS COLOR! HE WANTED THE B L A C K ROCK!--and then fear. This wasn't the magic rock he knew--would anything bad happen?

Content Warning
This post contains potentially sensitive material:

gore

The searing power that had been building was released the moment his tongue touched rock, fully and completely. A blast of pure destruction roared through it: like flame, like energy given BRILLIANT light, like...

...lightning, shot straight through his tongue, through his mouth, his head, his throat and neck and it burned, blackening, searing, annihilating. The Chaos in him surged, clashing, the Spire's power overwhelming it in an instant.

He was thrown back, his tongue exploding in a shower of ropey Oil, some of the teeth closest to the point of contact bursting into enamel shrapnel, the flesh of his cheeks and his eyes and the muzzle of his skull all blasted away from his face. His neck, his throat, forelimbs... seared black, smoldering. They would stink, had he any nostrils left to smell them; his sinuses would be a smoldering splatter on the stone below.

When the shock passed--assuming he survived it--he would find himself missing most of his face, blinded, in a slowly rising, burning agony beyond most beings' ability to sustain. Pieces were hanging from him, dangling and impossible to make sense of: a mess of black and bloodied muscle, bone, and gore.

@Edric

The world exploded.

Edric was thrown backward in a starburst of light and gore. He lay on the ground in shock, unable to comprehend the searing agony that overwhelmed every nerve ending still remaining in the flesh that had once rested behind his face. It was so much. Distantly, he felt something hot and wet soak into the fur of his neck and chest and legs. It was almost buried by all the.... everything coming from his face. Or what had been his face.

Then he began to feel a sense of urgency, as some instinct told him his stone was coming--he couldn't stay here. Stumbling to his feet, he blundered around in blind circles until he felt some kind of stabilizing influence call him home. He collapsed, marble leg jabbing awkwardly up into his shoulder as the other ones folded, and was consumed by his stone.


exit to chrysalis by the font of corruption near the spire (thanks draconua)