Lady of Pain, Unrevealed

Ye want t' Dark o' t' Lady, cutter? Fancy yer chances in one o' ‘er mazes, do ye? Thats if she don't fillet ye like a Styxfin and serve ye up to t' Dusties....Ye can put that knife away, berk, I ain't wanting t' die just for keepin t' dark of t’ Lady from t' likes of ye.

May t' fiends take yer hide to t’ vile darkness they spawned from, cutter. If ye'd asked me all nice and quiet like I'd have told ye anyway. Everyone deserves to learn t' dark o’ the Lady of Serenity, even addle-coves with no better use for their lives such as yerself.

Aye, thats ‘er real name, as the chant goes. There be power in names cutter, that's why you don't know mine and I be soon knowing more than you'll ever dream’ bout yers

*chuckles*

She hasn't been called that for ages, cutter, and I mean AGES. Back when t' planes were still young an’ being made from all t' primordial mess an’ belief, back when even t' blood war was still a group of fiends cursing each other, there were t' Avatars.

I've been called barmy before, berk, so don't think yer trying something new.

Back then, concepts such as Bliss, Innocence, Honor, Hunger, Knowledge and all t' rest were more than simple ideas, cutter, they had FORM, they were incarnated, so t’ speak. They were t' Avatars, and they are t’ berks responsible (and still are, cutter) t'wards seein' that their namesake is alive and well in t'planes. Now, some were more powerful than others. The baser and more primordial, the more powerful. What’s t’ one thing that’s tied to ev'ry living thing cutter?

Pain.

T' Lord of Pain and his Lady were t' most powerful and oldest of t' Avatars. Pain visited t' planes ev'ryday and then some. T's a wonder how t' planes ev'r got populated with them two goin' about their jobs with such zest.

Where are they now?

Ah, cutter, therein lies t' Darkest of Darks. Ye see, these Avatars had emotions, they were subject to t' realm o' other Avatars, but only t’ Avatars that embodied t’ bases had power over t’ others. All Avatars felt hunger an’ anger an’ fear, but not all o' them felt Honor or Shame. But they all, bar none, felt Pain. And Love.

Love cutter, t’ second most powerful feeling known to t' panes. Got its place right up there next t’ Hate.

T' Lord of Pain was a miserable fellow, they say. He embodied spiritual pain, pain as grief, t' sorta pain that'll wrench yer heart out and leave it t' dry, pain that will swallow ye whole if ye'll let it. His Lady, she embodied physical Pain, the pain of being flayed alive, or being gutted an’ spitted. Remember t' breathe, cutter. Looks t' me as if I got yer attention real good.

*chuckles*

Yes t' Lady can be a cheeky lass, always full of surprises and more darks than the Null plane itself.

Anyways, t' Lord of Pain was a queer fellow, always quiet and moody and the like. Until ‘e met t' Lady of Serenity, that is. Ah, t' Lady of Serenity. Cutter, ye can say that ye never knew what calmness and serenity is until yer eyes meet ‘ers. Ye get t' feeling that t' planes are washed away into a small, unimportant corner and what’s matters is floating on t' gentle waves in yer mind. T' Lord of Pain, with ‘is anguish a' emot'nal a' sp'ritual pain and whatnot, lost ‘imself in t' second most powerful emotion known to t' planes. He fell fer ‘er. She, in turn, took pity upon 'is plight and soothed ‘is pain. They grew mighty close and friendship bloomed into intimacy.

Even t' Avatars had their affairs, cutter, only this one took on proportions that can still be felt t’day.

When t' Lady of Pain found out, there was ‘ell to pay. Well, Hell hadn't been made yet as such, although ye get me gist. She fell prey to t' second most powerful emotion herself. Wrath an' Hate.

Hate, cutter, for love and ‘ate are but two sides of t' same coin.

She hunted down 'er Lord and slew 'im, ripping 'is life-essence from 'is husk as it were. It was t' first time an Avatar had been slain, and the feedback caused many of t' rest to suffer for it.

As t' Lady beheld t' husk of 'er Lord, she was overcome by guilt. Guilt of t' blackest sort. Guilt that would make ye kill and slay ev'ry creature that walks t' planes, if only t' make sure that nobody else would ev'r get to know.

In 'er guilt and rage, she turned onto t’ Lady of Serenity and mark me cutter, our beloved Lady acquainted ‘er very well with t’ most powerful element of t’ planes, pure Pain itself, afore t' Lady flayed t’ v'ry skin off ‘er mangled frame. So total was ‘er destruction, what there was owt left but ‘er spirit. Rage had consumed t' Lady of Pain, so in ‘er rage she consumed what was left of ‘er, including ‘er very spirit. Serenity washed over ‘er, and ‘er pain and serenity became as one.

Her rage became a cold, unending hatred, frozen by ‘er lucidity and calmness. A sort of never-ending calmness before the storm, eh cutter?

 If ye think I'm rattlin yer cage, cutter, ye can jest go on and leave. YE asked for this ,don't go and forget it. And ye wern't too nice about it, either.

Now, t' Lady knew she got ‘erself in a wee bit of a pickle, coz the rest of t' Avatars were after ‘er blood, since she’d gone an’ havin killed the first of 'em. They figured that they’d best be catchin ‘er and put’n ‘er where she won’t be hurtin anyone else, afore she took it into ‘er head to scrag the lot of ‘em.

Now, don’t ask me t’ details o’ what I’m about to tell ye, cutter, coz its pretty foggy from where I’m standin too. Our Esteemed Lady somehow managed to grab the husk of ‘er former beloved from the Astral (yeap, dead Avatars used t’ end up there, go look at t’ oldest husks there and see what form they got. I’m sure t’ Giths’ll let ye if ye ask nice enough).

*chuckles*

What she did was, she twisted the husk all outta shape and bent and shaped it into a ring, a hollow ring, semi circular, and put it into a small pocket plane all o’ her own.

See where I’m goin with this, cutter?

This pissed t’ other Avatars off t’ no end. Ye see, they couldn’t get into the Lady’s pocket plane try as they might. She’d done ‘em over real good.

Where is it?

Powers be damned, cutter, yer standing on it!

Well what’ya think Sigil’s made outta cutter, jest bricks an’ mortar? Ye jest think hollow, semi circular floating rings made outta BRICKS an’ MORTAR just hap’n to materialise on top o’ infinite spires ev’ry day, cutter?

An’ don’t come spillin’ Bleaker chant that I shouldn’t try and find a point to t’ multiverse or a reason coz there jest isn’t one, coz that’s jest a whoppin pile o’ sreed higher than t’ Khin-Oin and with enough stink to drive all t’ Slaadi outta Limbo if ye’d dump it there.

What’s more cutter, t’ wounds that riddle t’ husk o’ her former Lord are still as clear as daylight t’day. They’re all ‘round ye cutter. It’s t’ portals. T’ wounds from ‘er blades literally tore gaps in t’ planes themselves, and t’ planes can crawl in where t’ wounds are deep enough. A pitch-black Dark this is, as twisted as a Tan’nari’s soul, twisted enough to give Illsensine a mighty splittin’ headache.

Did ye never wonder why she never wants anyone t’ worship ‘er? Why, cutter, simply because they wouldn’t be worshippin’ HER, but the IDEA o’ pain, the EMBODYMENT o’ Pain. There be power in belief, and t’ power she’d gain from ‘er worshippers would also go into ‘er beloved. And ye know that dead powers don’t stay dead if enough people start worhsippin’ ‘em again. If it’s the last thing anyone’d want is their Lord rising up with bloody vengeance on ‘is mind.

Afore ye go, cutter, one more word in yer ear.

On one o’ t’ layers of t’ Abyss, a layer so forgotten that t’ fiends themselves ‘ave forgotten all ‘bout it, is a testam’nt to this tale. ‘Blackest Guilt’ being t’ layer’s name, and upon its blasted plain, testaments an’ monuments to t’ greatest crimes and trickeries t’ planes have witness collect, in a sort o’ perverse homage.  T' Lord of Knowlegde 'imself calls kip there, or one o' his kips at any rate.  He's t' kind o' person who gets around.

T’ Lady’s got a whole temple monument dedicated to her little stint. Why, it’d dwarf the Spire, it would. How do I know all o' this?  Call it an 'inform'd acc'nt made by someone who gets around'

*grin*

Oops, seem t' 'ave dropped that, gimme a mom'nt.

Unknown Crusty Old Tout, Sigil Alley Just before disappearing behind a crate looking for a dropped copper and never remerged. As recounted by a highly confused bubber who asked too many questions for his own good (and whom nobody believed, naturally)