Sometime after the event concludes, the Fog's presence creeps ever closer. Perhaps, it's at simple, mundane moment, with Javert at rest, or idly perusing over a novel or some such. Whatever the moment, should Javert happen to glance up at a mirror, he's in for quite a sight. Not his own reflection, of course, but the image of a robed woman. Her eyes are closed, and a gentle smile upon countenance seems to be both warm and chilling at once. She doesn't say a word, but instead raises her hands.
And then she claps. And claps. And claps. "Bravo, my pet. Bravo."
At those words, fog begins to spill out from the mirror, shrouding Javert's room in a fine mist. He can still see through it clearly though, and he'll notice the walls of his surroundings suddenly beginning to strip away. He'll find himself on an old fashioned stage in Dyster, surrounded by the realm's residents. There's a now booming sound of applause and cheers from the ever growing crowd. "Astounding! How could anyone not see the truth now? A splendid display! Three cheers for Monsier Javert!"
They roar with praise as the Fog God herself approaches Javert on the stage with an outstretched hand. Should Javert find himself frozen with awe, the fog itself will pull him closer.
"Well done, my dear. Or should I say. . .my Priest." Her hand is icy cold, but welcoming, comforting. "Never have I seen a grander spectacle, exposing those filthy humans for what they really are. You truly understand what I desire for you, and the rest of my children. And for that. . .you have earned a glimpse at the truth."
She waves her hand. The stage and crowd fall away like cardboard cut outs, and Javert will find himself seemingly standing on thin air. Below him reveals a ruined land. A vast, barren earth stretching further than any eyes can see. Cracked indents in the earth hint at where massive lakes once supported even grander forests, but not even the stumps of their burnt remains seem to have survived whatever catastrophe had befallen the land. The Fog God speaks again, voice softer, somber.
"What you see is all that remains outside of the peninsula. Nothing but death and isolation." She grimaces. "The humans, those vermin, are responsible. Even still, I chose to preserve a handful of them, and yet they show no gratitude. And so, I will gift what remains to my children instead."
A smile returns to her lips, and she waves her hand. Javert will find himself donning the robe of a Priest, specifically tailored to his taste. He may notice that the fog that swirls around him begins to shift according to his will as well.
The Fog God steps back, arms outstretched as the image of the outside world below them begins to dim. "My Priest! Continue to spread my love, and use your gifts as you see fit. You have proven, without a doubt, you are more than worthy of the power of the fog."
With that, the fog suddenly disperses, and Javert will find himself at his prior location as if nothing happened, boons and all.
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And then she claps. And claps. And claps. "Bravo, my pet. Bravo."
At those words, fog begins to spill out from the mirror, shrouding Javert's room in a fine mist. He can still see through it clearly though, and he'll notice the walls of his surroundings suddenly beginning to strip away. He'll find himself on an old fashioned stage in Dyster, surrounded by the realm's residents. There's a now booming sound of applause and cheers from the ever growing crowd. "Astounding! How could anyone not see the truth now? A splendid display! Three cheers for Monsier Javert!"
They roar with praise as the Fog God herself approaches Javert on the stage with an outstretched hand. Should Javert find himself frozen with awe, the fog itself will pull him closer.
"Well done, my dear. Or should I say. . .my Priest." Her hand is icy cold, but welcoming, comforting. "Never have I seen a grander spectacle, exposing those filthy humans for what they really are. You truly understand what I desire for you, and the rest of my children. And for that. . .you have earned a glimpse at the truth."
She waves her hand. The stage and crowd fall away like cardboard cut outs, and Javert will find himself seemingly standing on thin air. Below him reveals a ruined land. A vast, barren earth stretching further than any eyes can see. Cracked indents in the earth hint at where massive lakes once supported even grander forests, but not even the stumps of their burnt remains seem to have survived whatever catastrophe had befallen the land. The Fog God speaks again, voice softer, somber.
"What you see is all that remains outside of the peninsula. Nothing but death and isolation." She grimaces. "The humans, those vermin, are responsible. Even still, I chose to preserve a handful of them, and yet they show no gratitude. And so, I will gift what remains to my children instead."
A smile returns to her lips, and she waves her hand. Javert will find himself donning the robe of a Priest, specifically tailored to his taste. He may notice that the fog that swirls around him begins to shift according to his will as well.
The Fog God steps back, arms outstretched as the image of the outside world below them begins to dim. "My Priest! Continue to spread my love, and use your gifts as you see fit. You have proven, without a doubt, you are more than worthy of the power of the fog."
With that, the fog suddenly disperses, and Javert will find himself at his prior location as if nothing happened, boons and all.