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Description
When the endless night comes to an end and its silent Apostle vanishes in the morning light, some may find relief in the dawn. The darkness has faded and the world as returned to normal, perhaps the end of the cataclysm is here. To those who believe this, they are correct. This ceaseless torment and unyielding wave of destruction has reached its finale, and soon the plagues will be put in the past. The bearer knows, though, that there is one last act to this horrific play. The ten plagues cannot truly be over until the tenth has arrived. What must one think as they wait upon this eve? Are they hopeful that this ending will bring the peace and justice they have sought? Are they eager for this trial to come to an end, so that they may return to a normal life? Or perhaps this last moment fills them with dread, as what could be next after nine waves of suffering? Maybe this hope they have is one of mercy, that this final blow put these people out of their misery. One cannot truly know what these past bearers thought of at the end. Maybe some welcomed it with open arms, while others were dragged down with sorrow and regret. Sadly, there is no point in dwelling upon this now, this conclusion was sealed long ago. Those who ignored the Minister's warnings and chose to forge onward were always doomed to this finale. Some may say that this path was decided well before then, when the bearer called forth the very first. Not everyone chooses such a journey, and very few ever seek out the Emissaries of the Plagues. Despite the ages that have passed and the numerous bearers who have come and gone, all those who summon the Emissaries have a thing in common. It is the very thing that drove them to take such measures, to beg for the aid of these otherworldly beings. It seems the end is what causes the beginning for all these desperate folk, because they are already well acquainted with the final plague. All who come here have already met the Mother of Loss, as they are her children.

It will happen the night after the ninth plague draws closed, after a brief moment of light and calm. This single day of peace is often welcomed and celebrated, unknowing that it is only the eye of the storm. When the sun sets and night returns, the bearer will meet the final Emissary. There will be no visit, though, as she will not come to this realm. Instead, the bearer will find themselves in her domain, drawn into it as if it were a dream. It will happen in a moment, and suddenly they will find themselves in a very cold and sorrowful place. The world will be of stony walls and empty halls, an endless tomb that knows no light or warmth. In this barren grave, the only sounds are ones of misery and pain. Mournful wails and hopeless sobs echo throughout these frigid corridors, and the bearer will follow these to their source. There, in the heart of this miserable place will they find her, a broken weeping thing. She lays in a collapsed heap, tangled in bloody bandages that have been soaked by an endless torrent of tears. The bearer's arrival will be the only thing that will stop her cries, but this brings her little comfort. All she can give between choking sobs are pleadings for forgiveness, as she is the mother of their woes. She is the one who birthed the misery and tragedy that drove them down this path. Those who come for her relic are always her children, and it torments her to see what she has done to every one of them. It doesn't matter what the bearer gives to her in this moment, as the relic in her possession has already been awakened. Amongst her coils it lies, and it needs no hand to bring forth its miseries. Their arrival has set the final act in motion, and all the Mother can do is grieve at what is to come.

Clutched in her hands is the Censor of Woe, a creation that was forged from countless tragedies and broken hearts. Within its core lies pure torment, a primordial agony that is known by all beasts of the world. It is a symbol of pain, and it has been awakened to unleash the tenth plague. From its openings will pour a frigid mist, a silent fog that slithers and crawls. It will fill the chamber of the weeping Mother, and then leak into the mortal realm. Seeping from the cracks of reality, it will spread throughout the streets, creeping into every home and heart. What takes is not the same for every summoning but, no matter what it steals, it will break the souls of all who remain. It will take the young and the old, the healthy and the sick. It will find the wound that hurts the most and strike it in one flawless stroke. Those who are lost to it do not suffer. Their passing is painless and instant. Those who survive its presence, though, are the ones who will know true agony. The tenth plague will last for mere minutes and then vanish into the night. There will be no fanfare, no extravagant destruction that many envision the end will be. There will just be death, simple and silent. When morning comes, those who survive will find their loved ones gone and their families shattered. Compared to the other plagues, it is a mere pinprick in terms of physical devastation and horrific spectacle, but it is one that pierces through every heart.

With the fog dissipated and the final blow struck, the plagues will at last be over. The bearer will have only a moment with the Mother until they are whisked back to their world. Looking over the tragedy that has come from this single night, she will have only one thing to say to them before she returns to her mourning. "I hope you find peace," will be her final words, and then she will be gone. Reality returns, and the bearer is left standing amongst the ruined homes and grieving families. What enemies they had before this ordeal will yield, what horrors they fought will surrender. The world will change in light of this horrible curse, and the dreams of the bearer will at last be realized. There will be justice, there will be change, but not without a hefty price. Amongst the numerous dead and countless broken are those who had no hand in the crimes that haunted this land. When the fires of revolution blaze through these tainted places, there will always be innocents lost to its flames. Was this new world worth the suffering and pain that forged it? That is up to the bearer to decide.

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At last! The tenth plague has come and so has the end of this project! Always feels nice when one of my big drawing projects is done and all submitted! Much like the Sins and Virtues, this one was a blast and a whole lot of fun trying to come up with fitting and unique designs. I hope all of you guys enjoyed it as well!

Now comes the time where I begin to think of what my next big project will be, because my duty is endless. Hopefully it is one that isn't ten or more pieces long like this one, but I am not known for making good life choices so that hope is useless.

Description
When the endless night comes to an end and its silent Apostle vanishes in the morning light, some may find relief in the dawn. The darkness has faded and the world as returned to normal, perhaps the end of the cataclysm is here. To those who believe this, they are correct. This ceaseless torment and unyielding wave of destruction has reached its finale, and soon the plagues will be put in the past. The bearer knows, though, that there is one last act to this horrific play. The ten plagues cannot truly be over until the tenth has arrived. What must one think as they wait upon this eve? Are they hopeful that this ending will bring the peace and justice they have sought? Are they eager for this trial to come to an end, so that they may return to a normal life? Or perhaps this last moment fills them with dread, as what could be next after nine waves of suffering? Maybe this hope they have is one of mercy, that this final blow put these people out of their misery. One cannot truly know what these past bearers thought of at the end. Maybe some welcomed it with open arms, while others were dragged down with sorrow and regret. Sadly, there is no point in dwelling upon this now, this conclusion was sealed long ago. Those who ignored the Minister's warnings and chose to forge onward were always doomed to this finale. Some may say that this path was decided well before then, when the bearer called forth the very first. Not everyone chooses such a journey, and very few ever seek out the Emissaries of the Plagues. Despite the ages that have passed and the numerous bearers who have come and gone, all those who summon the Emissaries have a thing in common. It is the very thing that drove them to take such measures, to beg for the aid of these otherworldly beings. It seems the end is what causes the beginning for all these desperate folk, because they are already well acquainted with the final plague. All who come here have already met the Mother of Loss, as they are her children.

It will happen the night after the ninth plague draws closed, after a brief moment of light and calm. This single day of peace is often welcomed and celebrated, unknowing that it is only the eye of the storm. When the sun sets and night returns, the bearer will meet the final Emissary. There will be no visit, though, as she will not come to this realm. Instead, the bearer will find themselves in her domain, drawn into it as if it were a dream. It will happen in a moment, and suddenly they will find themselves in a very cold and sorrowful place. The world will be of stony walls and empty halls, an endless tomb that knows no light or warmth. In this barren grave, the only sounds are ones of misery and pain. Mournful wails and hopeless sobs echo throughout these frigid corridors, and the bearer will follow these to their source. There, in the heart of this miserable place will they find her, a broken weeping thing. She lays in a collapsed heap, tangled in bloody bandages that have been soaked by an endless torrent of tears. The bearer's arrival will be the only thing that will stop her cries, but this brings her little comfort. All she can give between choking sobs are pleadings for forgiveness, as she is the mother of their woes. She is the one who birthed the misery and tragedy that drove them down this path. Those who come for her relic are always her children, and it torments her to see what she has done to every one of them. It doesn't matter what the bearer gives to her in this moment, as the relic in her possession has already been awakened. Amongst her coils it lies, and it needs no hand to bring forth its miseries. Their arrival has set the final act in motion, and all the Mother can do is grieve at what is to come.

Clutched in her hands is the Censor of Woe, a creation that was forged from countless tragedies and broken hearts. Within its core lies pure torment, a primordial agony that is known by all beasts of the world. It is a symbol of pain, and it has been awakened to unleash the tenth plague. From its openings will pour a frigid mist, a silent fog that slithers and crawls. It will fill the chamber of the weeping Mother, and then leak into the mortal realm. Seeping from the cracks of reality, it will spread throughout the streets, creeping into every home and heart. What takes is not the same for every summoning but, no matter what it steals, it will break the souls of all who remain. It will take the young and the old, the healthy and the sick. It will find the wound that hurts the most and strike it in one flawless stroke. Those who are lost to it do not suffer. Their passing is painless and instant. Those who survive its presence, though, are the ones who will know true agony. The tenth plague will last for mere minutes and then vanish into the night. There will be no fanfare, no extravagant destruction that many envision the end will be. There will just be death, simple and silent. When morning comes, those who survive will find their loved ones gone and their families shattered. Compared to the other plagues, it is a mere pinprick in terms of physical devastation and horrific spectacle, but it is one that pierces through every heart.

With the fog dissipated and the final blow struck, the plagues will at last be over. The bearer will have only a moment with the Mother until they are whisked back to their world. Looking over the tragedy that has come from this single night, she will have only one thing to say to them before she returns to her mourning. "I hope you find peace," will be her final words, and then she will be gone. Reality returns, and the bearer is left standing amongst the ruined homes and grieving families. What enemies they had before this ordeal will yield, what horrors they fought will surrender. The world will change in light of this horrible curse, and the dreams of the bearer will at last be realized. There will be justice, there will be change, but not without a hefty price. Amongst the numerous dead and countless broken are those who had no hand in the crimes that haunted this land. When the fires of revolution blaze through these tainted places, there will always be innocents lost to its flames. Was this new world worth the suffering and pain that forged it? That is up to the bearer to decide.

---------------------------------------------------------------

At last! The tenth plague has come and so has the end of this project! Always feels nice when one of my big drawing projects is done and all submitted! Much like the Sins and Virtues, this one was a blast and a whole lot of fun trying to come up with fitting and unique designs. I hope all of you guys enjoyed it as well!

Now comes the time where I begin to think of what my next big project will be, because my duty is endless. Hopefully it is one that isn't ten or more pieces long like this one, but I am not known for making good life choices so that hope is useless.