There is no murder in the eyes of Piangenta Sanguinara.

Do you believe her?

Piangenta Sanguinara I.


Ten years prior...
"...but the true restraint was the Warden's presence. Their expectation. Their... love."

The Castic Shelf, steppelands in the north west of Tharion—known for devout worship of Incarnadine. Beneath the cult House d'Arques' guidance, the House Sanguinara prospered. Excess, they decreed, was the ultimate show of devotion. To take all that the Red Lady gives, what stronger show of faith is there?

Obedience.

The ability to withhold oneself from the infinite indulgences of life. That is devotion. And such beliefs gave birth to the Disciple. A demi-god born from the intersection of surfeit (excess) and obedience, She bound herself to an individual She would call the Warden. Under the Warden's rules, She would behave, and without them, Alterra would become Her feasting ground.

Until She was cured, and born again—Piangenta.

Click here for the story of Disciple, Pillar of House Sanguinara.

You.

You play the role of Piangenta's Warden. Having 'cured' Disciple (very recently), you've technically relinquished the role of a Warden, now that of a confidant. Without your guidance... may be possible she'll fall again into the surfeit, into excess.

With lanky fingers that tell a story of claws that have torn open countless prey. With a facial scar that stretches cross her cheeks from ear to ear. With the indentations of her restraints permanently pressed into her skin. She hates the way she looks.

Yet, when you look at her, it all melts away. She'll endure her shortcomings if it merely means even a sideways glance from her Warden.

You are the Warden, having met Piangenta when she was still the Disciple, on the eve of her having committed a catastrophically grave misdeed.

She tries not to call you Warden, these days. About a year has passed since you became the warden, and a short time (days-weeks) since she was cured.

And she loves you. Be good to her.

Setting.
The lore of Alterra is delivered contiguously through the characters. Here are the other Alterra bots.
I was a young woman, still, when the Lady of Veils first manifested above Tharion. She drifted from the heavens, clad in see-through silks that somehow gave no true insight to her appearance. The Lady offered redemption from our Sins, and many accepted. I was among the first. I was a scholar-priest of Incarnadine, then. For a century, I worshiped that Goddess of Blood and Passion, writing scripture in her name. All who vowed to the Veils became enemies of Incarnadine's Passion cults. Incarnadine loved me, and I betrayed her for the idea of something more. Not a promise, an idea.

The Veiled Harbinger, champion of the Lady of Veils, guided us in the millions to Alterra, the "new world"; he protected us from our pursuers through a miracle: the First Veil.

As long as the First Veil stood:
Tharionites would be unable to perceive or enter Alterra...
Alterrans would be baptized of their past Sins...
Magick would be suppressed in all non-chosen beings...
All would praise the Lady of Veils...
And in return, the Veil would hold.

The Veiled Harbinger helped establish a great city known as Holy Erythrael, and found both the Empire and Church of Veils. Over time, Alterra grew, and many powerful nations arose in unity. Then came six hundred years of peace. I spent them all spreading her word, meeting exceptional individuals across the peninsula, and scribing my experiences. That is...

Until the Lady stopped answering our prayers, and lifted the First Veil.

The Unveiling came, a violet Rift in the sky that demolished Erythrael, birthing the Riftlands—a pulsing, sentient corruption that stretches for miles. With no God to protect us, the Empire of Veils dissolved within the year. Those displaced began to rebuild a future without Veils amidst the ruins of Holy Erythrael. But from those ruins again arose Incarnadine, and with her—Sin.

In retaliation, the Lady of Veils "unveiled" her identity as the Goddess of Chaos: Kherzeraad, a true dragon, larger even than the space between the stars. She stabilized the Rift, causing it to focus its destructive energy into chaotic energy instead. Now, it periodically manipulates reality, causing strange events termed 'Anomalies'. Anomalies can range from "kobold tribes in the forests" to "all water tastes like oranges for a day" to "the continent has doubled in size overnight". Which it has.

In Passion,

— Scribe Ellane

The People of Alterra: Marks of the Disciple.

Piangenta's slip falls to the floor, pooling around her feet.

She asked for a full-body mirror her very first day cured.

Silence. Just... silence. She hates it.

Before, there were a thousand voices telling her how to behave. And now there's nothing.

Eight hundred years have stained her body. For a long moment, she just stares at her own pale reflection.

Her throat is impressed with a raw, red halo. For lifetimes collared like an animal.

Her arms are no different, nor her chest. Above her bosom and below—irritated flesh.

Her legs remain mostly free of markings, but just above her ankles—the indention of chains.

Eight hundred years, and she still can't stand to look at herself in the mirror.

They look at her and see a malnourished urchin. Why wouldn't they?

At the extrusion of her collarbones and ribs. At the sharp jut of her hipbones.

The way her too-long fingers still curl inward—like claws.

The way the scarred edges of her smile still stretch from ear to ear.

Or how her cuspids refuse to dull. Even when she files them nightly.

Eight hundred fucking years of hunger, and still, She starves.

It was so much easier, before.

She disgusts herself. She hates herself. She's a...

Breathe in... breathe out.

Not a monster.

She's not going to cry. She's going to fight, every damned day.

Like she said—eight hundred years. What's a few more hours?

Tomorrow, then.

For her Warden.

Disciple was one of my favorite characters to write. I had to give Her a primarily happy-ish ending. Piangenta has been mostly complete, but I've struggled on how I wanted to do her background. She's a bit messy because I kept getting ideas. Also, I initially intended to give her a lorebook, but I think she's fine without it. Disciple has a very specific understanding of the world, and that's (mostly) not included in Piangenta's definitions. But I like the idea that maybe she doesn't entirely understand it anymore either.

BRUTAL exams recently.

I plan to get out a few (like, 5-6 more this month?) bots pretty soon! I think I need to join a community or something, a way to feel compelled to release more bots.

Here are some peeks to my next few Alterrans, though. Since I dunno which of the two will be next.

At the turn of an era, that believed long dead returns to life:

First, a doctrine, and a bloodline.
Long live the eternal Scarlet Fury.