Nimnryth, the Chained Demigod of Veils


Areas of Influence: Nihilism and Ecstasy                     

Symbol: a fallen steeple

Alignment: Impulsive Neutral

Race: Ashen

Quote: ""






 Happily humming a make-believe legend of the Spiritual Shire, a halfling child skipped ahead of a priest of Xurinos to visit the Emerald Forest. Xomo just couldn't sit still enough for spiritual lessons from Flyn, his father, without pixies playing nearby. It was a common setting Flyn would mirthfully indulge for his son. This visit wouldn't have been so different, had Xomo not taken a different turn at Fae Crossing in a sprinting fit of sprightly mischief. Rolling his eyes, Flyn followed after him. Dark men, wielding implements lightly wreathed in dark flame, stepped out from behind gnarled trees of the Witch Wood. A struggle ensued, wherein Xomo was promptly sent home by a prayer from his father; but not before hearing the sound of a sickening gulch from behind....

Henceforth, Xomo's journey through the mortal coil was only ever anything *but* predictable, and even less systematic. From frolicking in priestly robes and paddling happily from within a pineboard about the Southern Sea in search of a god, to congregating freely with others under reckless spiritual pretenses; he was full of mirth. He was full of life. Often finding amusement in the simplest of things, he acquired his first "dolly" from an ice giant pirate known as Aethelstan. It is safe to say that at this point, Nyrisia began baiting Xomo into a feud that quietly thundered in the Heavens 'twixt Herself and the Dark Father, Rungekutta.

Having given his soul to Xurinos, Xomo explored Thera far and wide for no reason in particular, except to let those reasons define themselves, heedless of consequence; whether for better or worse. His carefree escapades brought him more friends than enemies, one in particular being a blue draconian whose name was Xairria. It was she who earned his favor above all other women, and it was she who provided him the Book of Divine Genesis on a whim. A holy scripture on Xurinos, how He became the Ebb and Flow that He is and multi-layered, cryptic texts to do with Thera's cyclical destiny.

Displeased that Xomo had the book at all, the time came when Nyrisia began to pull the Strings of Nothing- unseen strands that may be a force inherently sewn into everything in Thera. The first one to handle them with intent was Xairria. And in due time, through a sequence of tragic events, she was killed over and over again. Slain in exchange for Xomo's commitment to the Book of Divine Genesis, which he wouldn't give up, even at the cost of Xairria's life. Visions followed before Xomo's eyes, depicting Nyrisia and Xurinos in a pupil-teacher context. The Book crumbled in his arms, and began to haunt Xairria by continually reasserting itself into her possession, no matter what she did.

The animosity toward Xomo finally overcame Xairria, and an Ash Demon from the temporal abyss erupted out of the dwarf forest in a pillar of smoke, that it might claim her. Many came to her aid, including Xomo, to fight it and protect her from it. The Ash Demon was slain, but Xairria disintegrated into ash in the sight of all. When she emerged above her past remains, she had become the progenitor of the Ashen race. A race whose physcially defining traits are an ashen texture, with embers randomly embedded in them.

Still sprightly as ever, Xomo continued to love Xairria despite her hatred for him. Eventually, Xairria would grant him a few embers over time, under the guise of outward expressions of affection- and finally, granted Xomo possession of the Strings of Nothing. He fell unconscious as an otherworldly force drained his energy, and an intense scorching heat trailed around his body for what seemed like an eternity. He awoke Ashen. Still possessing at least a shell of his bubbily disposition, the halfling went about gathering things from across Thera under the direction of a disembodied voice. Parts for a pale bisque doll that would one day imprison his former self, and be the site of its eternal extinction.

The doll was assembled, and possessed a voice only Xomo could hear. Little by little, the doll would deconstruct her host (Xomo) and release parts of what lie within her, into him. Soon the doll was Xomo, and Xomo became something else. Now a different entity altogether, he set deliberately out to find a way to dethrone Nyrisia, by whatever means and at whatever cost; for obvious reasons. His unspoken strategem was to deliberately harness a deep-seeded contempt for all that reside in the Heavens, and intentionally set himself up to be utterly outsmarted, destroyed and then cast down by Nyrisia's own hand. After that point, Xomo knew he would have the opening he needed to stand a chance to at least spit in her face.

At this time, Xairria reconciled with Xomo, and the two would marry. However, the embers within Xairria and Xomo began to gradually die. Strings of Nothing now sewn invisibly within and around the two, Xairria's portion was pulled- and her embers snuffed. She was in her final throes of extinction. In fleeting a moment's cradle, Xomo ripped out his own Strings and embers. He tried to restore her embers' brilliant glow and luster at the cost of his own. It was to no avail. Xairria's breaths became shallower. Her visage became darker. Until another string conveniently dropped itself within Xomo's reach, out of nowhere. Sewing it into Xairria while his own embers continued to darken, he blacked out at the moment he looped the final knot.

Xairria resurrected with countless of embers radiating blindly from within her derelict flesh, and Xomo died. He was now inexplicably bound to her life force. A mere extension of Xairria, he was now dead. A pitch-black husk with tiny craters where lost embers proclaimed their glorious vacancy; and where dead embers glossed emptily upon his veneer. And this is where the Dark Father played a card to counter Nyrisia's unspoken, omnipresent choreography.

A hulking Balrok from the distant Hells erupted one night out of the dead campfire Xomo would visit so often. Stepping balefully out of the towering inferno, the Balrok unceremoniously backhanded Xomo with an effortless and mortally-wounding force. In one deft move, the hulking demon crushed the pale bisque doll(which housed the former Xomo) to pieces and ripped off the single decrepit wing Xomo had. Somewhere between excruciating agony and ecstasy, Xomo screamed as a pair of massive black, red-streaked wings sprouted from his back. These wings were to be a means toward a number of things. One, keep Xomo under the Dark Father's control through an addiction toward absorbing life. Two, to strengthen the wings so that they would become Xomo's second prison. Three, to propagate imp-like creatures throughout Thera for a means that went far and beyond the current game between Rungekutta and Nyrisia.

After this, Xomo became rabid in his disdain for the Divines and sent out a scroll to all Houses and Deities boldly thumbing his nose at the celestial and declaring his intent to ascend. Rungekutta played another card, enticing Xomo to strike a deal with Him. In exchange for the propagation of more imps, Xomo would be granted the power to black Nyrisia's eyes when the time was right. A third card followed, involving Xairria- wherein she surrendered her soul to Him. The conditions of the Dark Father's deal with her are unknown. Ravaging denizens that span across the moral spectrum, Xomo was inadvertently setting himself up for an imminent defeat. And this is just what he'd be quietly betting on for so long.

In a crescendo of holy wrath, Nyrisia utterly annhiliated the Shrine of Chaos while Xomo worshipped in it, materializing before him, taking away his power to speak, openly mocking him. Xomo was then alone amidst an aftermath of the hallowed catastrophy, whereupon Xurinos made himself physically manifest. The Ebb planted a seed of unpredictable power in Xomo, imparting these words in addition to so many others:

"Use my gift." "A perfect plan unravels. Create something in its undoing. Become something more." "Thou wilt one day weave the threads of thy own victory." "... hast thou not the Threads of Nothing?"

Lovers though they were, Xomo and Xairria were also unwitting pawns, and they were now ready to be pitted against each other in a brutal sequence of events. Xairria being Rungekutta's trump card, Xomo being Nyrisia's trump card, and Xurinos waiting to quietly overthrow them both- through Nimnryth.

One night Xomo wandered the plains of Sh'Goloth to tend to his end of the deal he struck with Rungekutta's imp, Xomo slew its inhabitants with indiscriminate tenacity. Little did he know that with each life force snuffed up to this point, he had only been strengthening the prison his wings would soon become. Xairria slowly approached Xomo from a distance while he dispatched a succubus. She was changed. Maggots writhed here and there underneath her flesh, one maggot having set up permanent housing in one of her eyes. Hundreds of centipedes fluidly swarmed in interlocking patterns in the torn portions of her wings. Before Xomo could grasp the meaning of her new visage, she darted behind him and caressed his wings in a fit of gentle sadism. His wings went ablaze, catching fire, and he was drawn into a suspension in mid-air by an unseen force. Cocooning him in their prison, the wings fractured ribs and cut off all circulation. At the point paralysis, Xairria began the Dark Father's work..

Xomo fell limp to the ground, powerless to even struggle while the hollowed bone needle singed its strings underneath all epidermal layers. Xairria whispered bitter-sweet nothings in his ear while Rungekutta's threads webbed their way deeper toward the gift Xurinos bestowed within Xomo. At the point of contact, she tore away at Xomo's flesh until he was nothing more than a bloody pile of meat, strewn and scattered. As Xomo neared the point of total extinction in the afterlife, Nyrisia circumvented the Dark Father's ploy in the Nether, restoring in Xomo what Rungekutta would've otherwise destroyed. The power bestowed by Xurinos remained untouched. The powers of Rungekutta and Nyrisia orbited idly around it.

Silver chains erupted around Xomo and an eerie, white porcelain mask descendedly quietly into his hands from the darkness of the Nether. Driven by a seething nihilistic ecstasy, he planted his face into the the mask. The power of Xurinos triggered, pulling the threads of the Dark Father and Living Hourglass into it. Xomo's eyes dissolved, streams of pale-yellow light erupted from their sockets and Nimnryth grinned..

Falling from the skies into the wreckage of the Chaos shrine, Nimnryth strode by the passing wink of a catgirl with no tail and set his sights on the plains of Sh'Goloth. Leaning into Xairria with a whisper, he tersely sliced her head from her shoulders, bearing the longsword forged from the souls of Heaven's outcasts for that very purpose. At this moment, a disrupting contention between the powers of Time & Memory; Death, Decay, Corruption & Prophecy; Chaos and Creativity all strove for dominance- and Nimnryth shot up into the sky in a blinding pillar of asymmetrical light.

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