Rites

Battle of the Mind XII

Every great battle is one of the soul...

You are riddled with wounds. Guilt and self-examination, fear and anticipation carve a giant, ugly scar in your soul.

It bleeds and twitches, its contorted image constantly reels within your mind... resulting in fluctuating delusions.

Upon waking from these visions once more, realization dawns — it must be rendered into art, stabilized by indelible ink and pigment, avoiding further wound deterioration.

ID: 5004829

Type: Enemy

Tips: None

Duration: 1 days

Waits For: 3 days

Marked as New Only on First Occurrence: 0

Starts Automatically: No

Triggers Result Automatically: No

Tag Tips: None

Tag Tips Up: None

Tag Tips Text:

Random Text: None

Random Text Up: None

Actions When Wait Expires

Action:

Slots

Slot #3
Your Own Thoughts

Locks: No

Is Key: No

Is Empty: No

Is Enemy: No

Conditions:

Pops: None

Slot #4
Your rationality can help, if you possess it

Locks: No

Is Key: No

Is Empty: Yes

Is Enemy: No

Conditions:

Pops: None

Slot #6
Consider the people and events around you for inspiration

Locks: No

Is Key: No

Is Empty: Yes

Is Enemy: No

Conditions:

  • Any
  • Not Slot #5 = 1
  • Not Slot #4 = 1

Pops: None

Activation Conditions

This rite has no activation conditions.

Outcome

Prior

This rite has no prior outcome.

Regular

Image Terror
You failed to constrain it. The wound finally split completely in your dreams.

Blood, pus, then organs, sinews, then soul. From the wound, your inner self was layer by layer turned outward... inverting, as if to reverse soul and reality.

When you screamed awake, your skin and bedding were covered in blood, excrement, digestive fluids, and bile - as if you'd been crawling inside something.

Now you cannot bear any "paintings." When entering the Sultan's palace, you walk backward into the Lapis Lazuli Hall to avoid seeing the portraits of previous rulers on the walls.

Now everyone knows your mind has truly suffered significant damage.

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Action:

Lost Path
You foolishly seek to resolve your spiritual crisis through the absurd gods of the cultists.

You pray, plead, beg... only to be answered by cold laughter from the darkness.

Perhaps you still need to prove your worth to the chaotic gods.

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Action:

Impurity
You attempt to resolve your inner conflict through the god will of the Purist...

A white light surges into your mind, piercing your spine and triggering waves of agony - this is the Purist's response to your prayer -

"You are unworthy," says the pain. "Think again, consider what you could do for the Purist."

It "helps" you ponder for quite some time before gradually subsiding.

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Action:

Creator
As brush meets canvas, your thoughts drift far away - you realize you're not depicting a form but creating something entirely new to contain a concept, an idea...

Are gods merely ideas?

If gods have form, who crafted the craftsman?

As if responding to your audacious question, divine attention falls upon your sketch...

This gaze carries overwhelming divine authority, yet seems anxious and urgent - They yearn for you to shape Their form.

Ignoring this pressure, you focus intently, creating god in your own image on the pristine canvas.

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Action:

God Aspect
You decide against depicting the wound, choosing instead to portray your unblemished self - using this perfect facade to seal the injury within.

You've grown accustomed to this approach; the deeper the torment, the greater the pain, the more perfect the shell required. Gold ornaments lock away inner wounds, perfume masks spiritual decay, while fine clothing and hair oil distinguish you from beasts.

Sensing your anguish and remorse, that sacred voice offers new guidance - you obsessively add countless gold-red flames to the canvas, which manifest on the painting and burn into your flesh.

Afterward, servants rescue your naked body from ashes - they saw no fire, smelled no smoke, only heard your terrible moans of agony or ecstasy.

Rescued alongside you: a painting radiating mysterious allure - people are astonished to discover the portrayed you appears so perfect... and you yourself... somehow now embody this perfection!?

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Action:

Dark Side of the Moon
You need to focus on a specific form, rendering it to contain your delusions - transforming abstraction into concreteness, a task your logic and intellect can accomplish.

Eventually, an evil, disturbing symbol with distorted lines appears on the canvas, representing your inner madness, now under your control.

Upon completing your work, a voice whispers in your ear - the Creator once used the same method, creating everything from what lurked deep within.

You stare at your canvas. This insane moon turns its face toward you.

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Action:

A Carnal Piece
Your weakness lies in inappropriate desire. You know this well. The scar within bears [s6.name]'s likeness - tearing open when [s6.gender(he,she)] calls your name, weeping blood.

At your request, [s6.gender(he,she)] poses nude among veils, body extended for your portrayal. Desire, temptation, mingled with modesty, blend with oil paints, applied through soft brushes, gradually guiding you toward focused tranquility. In your lover's smile and anticipation, you create without reference, shaping desire itself. When awareness returns, [s6.name] sleeps exhausted, the sun setting, their true features hidden in shadow, while eerie twilight bathes your work in living radiance. At this intersection of light and dark, a bold thought enters your mind: What sin exists in reshaping the world through personal desire?

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Action:

Soulmate
You instinctively wish to portray Maggie.

Through momentary impulse, you deprived her of peace - and her sighs, her suffering and dissatisfaction destroyed your peace as well.

What do we truly fear? Glorious sacrifice for justice? Mortal combat against evil? Poverty or authority?

You fear nothing - except disappointing Maggie.

She sits quietly reading, allowing you to sketch - but are you depicting the lost past or frightening future?

Two forces tempt you, one suggesting she represents necessary sacrifice, pure flame to cleanse the world - which naturally requires the finest kindling.

The other suggests creating a better Maggie according to your desires.

These intrusions anger you - Maggie is your wife! You need no instruction on relating to her!

Through this stubbornness, you regain focus and tranquility, completing the work - this is Maggie now, the wife at your side.

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Action:

Red Monarch
Sultan is your wound, what else? His game tears your life apart... destiny and soul, potentially your head. His cruel grin, blade-in-hand, haunts your nightmares.

Fury runs through your brush, descending to madness—final memories of exhausting red pigments.

Awakening reveals crimson art—bloody, fiery robed Sultan. Freshly scabbed wounds align precisely like reverent monks' self-debasing punishment.

Sworn blood to purify the world, proclaimed above and rewarded below.

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Action:

A Crushing Defeat
In belief, The Chief of Darkness and Creation—believers act as His pen, contributing scribes.

You coat oneself in oil paints—colorful bodies, dirty mud or precious pigments, sacred acts, signifying resolve.

Awkward in sensation, executing hesitantly, yet pouring profound black paint, closest to divinity, over oneself, births calming darkness, veiling mundane sight...

Upon awakening, the studio's wrecked—pillaged, beam-hung corpses of dogs, birds, a cut-throat servant.

Amongst remains lies an unscathed masterpiece depicting devastation, human, rational weakness...

Even the pious to Purity would falter upon glimpsing.

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Result:

Action:

Master's Voice
You prepare to create a painting pleasing to the Immaculate Purity while healing your inner demons.

First you draw an angel, but True Faith angels lack faces, their empty visages disturbing you... Then you attempt a majestic temple... but cannot capture its solemn sacred atmosphere.

Somehow, a holy imposing presence looms behind you. You feel Their scrutiny, Their disdain, Their pressure.

You paint ceaselessly, colors covering colors, lines overlapping lines. You add holy fire, crusaders, pilgrim processions... That powerful hand grips your shoulder, those sword-like eyes pierce your back - you cannot stop until They're satisfied.

Finally, these images intersect, overlap, pigments bleeding together - leaving only a dirty, chaotic, ugly layer of paint...

Exhausted, arms twitching, you're finally permitted to collapse.

In your daze, you hear only Their sacred teaching: all creation is blasphemy.

Even the most devoted cultist, hearing the master's voice lingering in this painting, would find their impurity instantly cleansed.

Conditions:

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Action:

Extra

Rebuking Darkness
You dare invoke the most unholy name before the Immaculate Purity!

They thunder through your mind, Their light a spear piercing heaven and earth, a ruler lashing the world...

Until the next day's sunset, whenever your focus wavers, everything before you shatters into light and flames... This divine punishment They foretell... fortunately, They cannot execute it immediately.

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Result:

Ancient Enmity
Darkness boils as you mention Their enemy's name before a god.

Their anger transforms into a dark forest, intending to make you lost forever... Fortunately, you still pray for light in your heart. This beam, like a faint lamp, illuminates your path back to the mortal realm... it also reveals the monstrosities the evil god created from your fears. Masterpieces crafted from your inner terrors... about death, betrayal, failure, love... After waking, these images linger.

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Result:

Spiral of Destruction
Two gods, two enemies both craving world destruction, meet unexpectedly in the depths of your mind.

Here is an excellent battlefield where They can destroy each other... destroy your mind... again and again.

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