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6/24/2025, 1:45:56 AM
The tale of the Techpriestess continues from >>95903360
>The hours that followed the departure of the Lord of Change saw Salafié mending the damaged Geller field generator, seemingly indifferent to what she had seen. So fixed upon the task was she, that the Priestess did not notice the sparks and fumes of her work rising up and coalescing in the air above into a form that gazed down upon her.
>Suddenly, with a scream of torn metal, the daemon manifested fully, stepping forth from the walls as a towering monster of steel and smoke and flame. Its gaze turned upon Salafié as she recoiled in shock and it spoke with a voice that was the roar of a furnace.
>"Magos, know that you are favored in the eyes of my god, the Soul Forge King, master of the Arks of Omen..."
>"Vashtorr." The Priestess breathed the word. She had heard it long ago, a fearful rumor among the techno-magi she had known in her youth. Yet how could she fear a being whose envoy was a thing of such mechanical splendor?
>"The Arkifane bids you listen not to the lies of Tzeentch," the daemon rumbled, "for he showed you only that which he wished you to see, and would rob you of your true destiny."
>"Oh?" Salafié sniffed, "Speak your piece, daemon."
>Slowly, the daemon advanced across the hall until it loomed so close that Salafié felt its heat upon her face. "You shall have power in the mortal realm, and in time, a place in the Forge of Souls. You shall sit at the left hand of my god and be hailed as the foremost enemy of life."
>A thrill shot through the Priestess, yet still she protested, "I am a servant of the Machine God!"
>"As am I, but I know him as he truly is, not the imposter you call Omnissiah."
>"Blasphemy..." Salafié's response was but whisper, with no conviction. The daemon said nothing, but merely allowed the sight of its glorious form to work upon the Priestess' wavering faith until she broke the silence, "And what price would Vashtorr ask, daemon?"
>The hours that followed the departure of the Lord of Change saw Salafié mending the damaged Geller field generator, seemingly indifferent to what she had seen. So fixed upon the task was she, that the Priestess did not notice the sparks and fumes of her work rising up and coalescing in the air above into a form that gazed down upon her.
>Suddenly, with a scream of torn metal, the daemon manifested fully, stepping forth from the walls as a towering monster of steel and smoke and flame. Its gaze turned upon Salafié as she recoiled in shock and it spoke with a voice that was the roar of a furnace.
>"Magos, know that you are favored in the eyes of my god, the Soul Forge King, master of the Arks of Omen..."
>"Vashtorr." The Priestess breathed the word. She had heard it long ago, a fearful rumor among the techno-magi she had known in her youth. Yet how could she fear a being whose envoy was a thing of such mechanical splendor?
>"The Arkifane bids you listen not to the lies of Tzeentch," the daemon rumbled, "for he showed you only that which he wished you to see, and would rob you of your true destiny."
>"Oh?" Salafié sniffed, "Speak your piece, daemon."
>Slowly, the daemon advanced across the hall until it loomed so close that Salafié felt its heat upon her face. "You shall have power in the mortal realm, and in time, a place in the Forge of Souls. You shall sit at the left hand of my god and be hailed as the foremost enemy of life."
>A thrill shot through the Priestess, yet still she protested, "I am a servant of the Machine God!"
>"As am I, but I know him as he truly is, not the imposter you call Omnissiah."
>"Blasphemy..." Salafié's response was but whisper, with no conviction. The daemon said nothing, but merely allowed the sight of its glorious form to work upon the Priestess' wavering faith until she broke the silence, "And what price would Vashtorr ask, daemon?"
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