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Post by EtherealNoire on Nov 12, 2019 5:16:56 GMT -8
Talea's hand recoiled from the plagued darkness that enveloped her and consumed what she had grasped. Twas no darkness of natural power that surrounded her now. Not the shadows that slept on the far side of the sun. These... these were things of another time. Another dark power that pressed as strong against her as Night himself.
Though it pryed her vision towards its cursed notes, Talea would not dare look nor speak upon it.
Fragile though she felt in her isolation, her knowledge of the others was the one gift he had granted that could never be taken away.
Defiant as dusk before dawn, she refused it. It would gain no further action from her lest her will be taken in its fight.
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Post by EloHim on Nov 13, 2019 15:15:50 GMT -8
"GOOD, GOOD! YOU SEEM TO HAVE SOME FIGHT IN YOU YET. NOT SOMEONE ELSE'S WHORE, NOT COMPLETELY - I CAN STILL SMELL HIM DEEP WITHIN YOUR BODY, YES. DO YOU ENJOY BEING HIS LITTLE PUPPET, SISTER? GETTING PLOWED BY HIM ON THE DARK MOONLESS NIGHTS IN THE DEEPEST CRYPTS? HANGING ON HIS EVERY WORD, AS IF IT WAS LACED WITH FINEST HONEY? RELISHING IN THE POWER HE GIVES YOU? DREAMING ABOUT GIVING YOUR LIFE WHEN THE POOR FLESHLESS TIT FINALLY FINDS HIMSELF A "FITTING" VESSEL? RAVEL KNOWS IT ALL, RAVEL LIVED IT ALL... AND LOOK AT ME NOW."The image penetrated Talea's brain like a drop of boiling water on her forehead.
Before her was a woman, though her features morphed under the influence of time and something worse... She was of low hight, and her clothes - a black dress made of vines - didn't even hide how fat she was. Her skin was wrinkled and filled with blemishes...but most importantly - it was dark grey in colour. Each of her hands were adorned with claws, longer than her fingers - even if they were used to be nails, their length now was too much to give them such a timid description.
Her eyes - little red orbs nested deep within her skull, her nose - long and crooked. Her hair was so long it reached the floor, strands of gray mixed with vines of black.“NOW, WHEN WE BOTH HAD LOOKED AT EACH OTHER, OLD RAVEL WILL SEND YOU ON YOUR WAY, SISTER. BLOODSUCKER ALREADY TOOK TOO MUCH OF YOUR PRECIOUS TIME. WE’LL HAVE A GOOD LENGTHY CHAT LATER. HAVE FUN WITH THE AWL! IT'S ONLY A TINY TASTE OF WHAT WE CAN REALLY DO. OH, AND SAY “HI” TO THE BAG OF BONES. DOUBT HE’ll REMEMBER THE OLD RAVEL, BUT I ALWAYS DO. EVEN IN THE COLDEST OF NIGHTS.”She cackles, as the vines pull Talea out of the Mirror back into dilapidated halls of the Ruins. The Gallery is now behind the priestess of the Dark, as she is placed at the other end of the Labyrinth that consumed its fair share of explorers.
The way forward is brightly lit with torches, the soot and grime of burning riddle the stone walls. Some sort of chant passes through the stones from within.
The Bells ring throughout the dungeons. It is two hours till midnight.Item gathered:
Awl of the Hag
+ Bearer may attempt to mend open wounds and bone fractures of him/her-self and others, creating stitches made out of dark vines,ridden with thorns.
- Bearer might(!) cause more long term damage by applying such form of “healing” to the subject.
(aka Wyrd Reconstruction)
* Bearer must have knowledge of the Occult to use the awl.
* Bearer must be acquainted with the element of Darkness to know how to use the thorns.
-- Attempting to use the awl without aforementioned knowledge will harm the bearer as the awl will gradually turn the bearer’s hair into thorny vines.
|The item may be improved through the actions of the bearer after reaching higher Resolve Level|
“Stitch after stitch she mended away the pain and suffering of others, while weaving hers into the tapestry of her own fate.”
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Post by EtherealNoire on Nov 14, 2019 6:16:11 GMT -8
The horrors left her reeling at the fire's edge, recoiling as Night pooled beneath her steps. Ne'er had vowels and blasphemous notes assaulted her as the clairvoyant behind the realm of glass had dared. Caustic and cold, though she shuddered to her soul, she knew no cruelty lurked within those questions.
Talea knelt, fingers curled about bone when Night consumed her once more.
Thy mind cradles poison.
He pressed her to the floor beneath his presence like falling iron, and gelid fury seared into her veins till stifled cries tumbled from her lips.
Did I not caution thee of their slanderous ways? Of knowledge not meant for thou to harbor?
Knowledge of thy prior concubine and her scorn?
Her words stung him. She felt it ripple through his touch long before his thorns yanked her to her feet. Yet the assualt she expected never came. Only bitter, seething ire.
Twas the silence she feared most of all.
Night...?
Thou will fight. We speak nay more of triflings here.
He waited not to bind with her again, clawing and pervading every inch of her mind as she fell back against the wall. It burned! She writhed beneath his fury but he dragged her body towards the torch light, each step stolen in the darkness.
Walk or I shall do so for thee.
"Nay!" She cried, awash in his frustration. "I shall traverse nay further without answers. Long hath I served thee in silence. No more."
His silence returned, saturated with frigid calculations. She inhaled sharply, tasting ice on her tongue long before he spoke.
Very well... Once our battle and conquest is o'er, we shall share communion on these matters. Yet heed my words. Thou shalt bring thy tribute, lest I harken not thy queries.
He left her in the corridor whilst he melded into her shadow, yet she fretted not his departure. He had accepted her challenge, gave ear to her words. All that was required of her was that they fight and her promise be upheld.
Relieved, she tucked away the gifted awl and ventured forth down the malignant path leading into darkness.
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Post by EloHim on Nov 17, 2019 17:29:36 GMT -8
[The defiance - however small - does not go unnoticed...]
The pathway slowly loses the Gallery's lustre as the Mirror stays behind Talea. The golden cage, in which many a traveler lost their lives, was just another trap to prevent the un-welcomed guests from reaching the place. Was it the final one?
The tunnel brings Talea out to the edge...a set of stoneplates built into a wall with wooden bridges connecting them...all that over the deep underground waterway;a slide allowing liquid to go deeper into the darkness. Right now the waterway was dry. But the bottom was tinged with red...
The walls in few places were fitted with iron ladders - most of them broken and rusted, leading to the supposed trap-doors leading out through the roof. But so far the eyes see nothing but caved in holes.
The Chant echoed throughout the waterway from the path leading downwards, repeating, coiling into itself. It permeated the air, making it heavy and hard to breathe. It rang in the ears, trying to cloud the mind, worming its way through.
“The Heart, beating, shaking, contorting with horror and laughter endlessly, father of life, accepted of death, bringer of darkness and madness, gifter of ends and beginnings - praise ye. Faithful slaves, willing and willful lambs for your feast eternal, singing you prayers - hear them.
Bringers of heretic light, spouters of lies, blind to your truths, misguided children - punish them. Crushing their bones, breaking their minds, draining their life-blood, their souls before you - consume them. Screamers of your blessed name, champions of your name, giving everything and asking nothing - accept them.Preachers of your divine word, guardians of your flock, collectors of dues - reward them.”
Those were the words that called out to the God of this land. And one might say that the effects were a clear sign of it working...
Talea had a choice again… Two ways, two choices...and only so much to do what was necessary...
[Will she descend to the noise of the chant...and face the singers? Talea and Night wanted battle, after all.]
[Or would it be logical to go upwards along the waterway, to the supposed reservoir?]
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Post by EtherealNoire on Nov 25, 2019 16:49:50 GMT -8
Ice gnawed at the edges of her heart, bringing a chill to her lips and silence to her guarded footsteps as Talea drifted through the chamber. Twas Madness that which clung to the spiralling echoes? Or the call of rot? Yet Talea knew far worse lapped at those vile songs. In the stillness, it clawed. In her mind the stones oozed scarlet. Yea had Night not paired each motion with thorns, Talea felt she would ne'er have drawn further across the crimson pathways towards the yawning trenches but instead lingered as transfixed marble in the dark.
Though she strained to hear beyond their cursed voices, only the trepid beating of her heart responded. She could not battle them alone.
I cannot wage this war and win.
Thou hast no need to fear death. I will not permit their victory. For even should thy mortal shell transpire, another shall become thy flesh and bones. Death is not the end.
Crimson fluttered as she dipped her head, framing a visage stoic amidst the taint of fear. Yet even that passed into darkness as his shadows surrounded her. They would descend in stealth, and learn just how many foes awaited. Silent as the graves she departed down the worn stone, alive for but a breath in a realm meant only for death.
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Post by EloHim on Nov 26, 2019 14:06:41 GMT -8
The choice was made. The darkness of the Dungeon beckoned. Darkness that would not welcome her...but wish to swallow her whole, never to return.
A soft reassuring feeling emanated from the Awl. Like a warm helping hand on her shoulder.
Talea wasn't as alone as one might think.
Yet to the darkness there was no difference.
Waterway led deeper, more and more lit torches were to be found.
Many a tunnel led to the sides, hiding their own secrets… undoubtedly dark and vile. At this point the chant became something of a norm, being constantly in the background, yet not as overbearing...as if the mind slowly adapted to zone it out...or accepted it?
That's when the stepps made themselves known to Talea. Several pair of naked legs walking in her direction...from both sides of the Waterway, in front of her and behind, getting closer...and closer.
[Will she face them…?]
[Or maybe...the side tunnel! She must hide, quickly!]
[Then again...she could just jump into the waterway...and hope to not break her legs.]
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Post by EtherealNoire on Nov 27, 2019 5:25:31 GMT -8
Though Talea wore the garb of Night and shadows drenched her figure from the warmth of the all-consuming torches, she knew not what powers the waywards might possess. Yea, Night also compelled her to remain within the dark, fervent, while each tunnel beckoned her into its yawning maw, away from those who drew nigh. Though they were but heartbeats away, Talea evanesced into the gloom, melting into a tunnel as though she were a creature born from the dark itself. And as she waited, stone biting flesh and cords of twilight searing extended palm and fingertips, she was indeed a creature of the dark. A specter garbed in rose and thorns, and ever bound in Night.
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Post by EloHim on Dec 11, 2019 6:53:13 GMT -8
"OI THERE! FANCY SEEING YOUR PALE ASSES IN THIS DINGY PLACE!"
"Shut the trap, you idiot, you want half the Ruins to hear ya?"
"Who gives a fuck? We'll all be free come midnight...one way or the other, so let the guy have some screams before he keels off.”
“True that. Tomas, you might wanna tone it down on the paranoia and just relax. Go back, enjoy the fun! Half the girls were so sad that you went away…”
“...right before some other schmucks took them away…”
“Oh come on...you know we have plenty of that going on here. Our family is filled to the brim with girls that are ready to kill their own newborn babies just to get some eternal beauty plus some power on the side. No matter who takes some of them for fun, there’s always more.”
“Who gives a fuck about those bints? I dunno about you, Johnny, but so far everythin’ ‘s going too Heart-damn good. Bastards in the Hamlet more content with just sitting there, we aint lost a guy in months! Its been ten days since the last intrusion and we didn't lose shit! Gained even! Its a fucking cointoss! Either Hamlet grew complacent or we just here like a sheep before the heart-damn wolves come in and munch at our insides.”
“Paranoid bastards.”
“You’ll see! You all will see!”
The ravings of the cultist continued on in that path, though little of note could be gained. They seemed to stay awhile.
[Would it be wise to step out of the Darkness and kill them?]
[On the other hand the tunnel Talea was in was leading...somewhere.]
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Post by EtherealNoire on Dec 12, 2019 5:41:59 GMT -8
Their caustic tongues repelled her like a rose to frost, though the meaning of their words were lost in the garbled madness that plagued her mind. Women and heart? Did not the tempo beating behind the walls echo such name? The Malice....
Night willed her egress, thorns guiding her further into the shadows before her thoughts collected with her steps.
More reside here.
Talea dipped her head to his warning. She too knew they lavished in their depraved gathering, their presence suffocating in the murk. Surely she could not evade their sights for long.
Yet as stone passed unhindered beneath footsteps and fingertips, a thought sparked in her mind. One she knew not whether belonged to her or to Night.
Priestesses too must abide within those ruins for the cultists to whisper of them so. Perhaps if she were to find them, acquire their garb, few would question her presence were she to venture beyond the shadows in her hunt.
This notion solely compelled her where courage was too frail to walk alone.
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Post by EloHim on Dec 13, 2019 14:47:35 GMT -8
As she walked the darkness, steps of a long decrepit stairway appeared under her feet, leading upwards towards the dim light. Chanting, never subsiding, was more pronounced there.
The darkness ended on a balcony. That's where the corridor led, the balcony near the roof of a giant round hall. The only source of light was a giant censer-looking lantern hanging under the roof. The contents of it were hidden from the eye...but the smell… Burning flesh… The whole thing was bound in chains...for some reason. [The censer-lantern’s fastening seems weak and brittle…]
In the middle of the hall - a hole leading ever downwards...where the very darkness was so thick...it looked as if the light tried to avoid it. The waterway seemed to be leading right there.
Around that pit...the only way to describe that was… the Cacophony of Sin. Cultists were everywhere: some were chanting, others were entertaining themselves by copulating with each other. Some cut the chained slaves, making them bleed all over the floor and then they threw bodies down into the pit... others were cutting themselves and then jumping into the dark with wild laughter.
Bodies of recently killed slaves decorated the walls - hung by chains and nails, dismembered, flayed,gutted like fish. Some, by some miracle still alive, unable to die...others… dead, their bodies locked in the moment of their final agony.
Left out to rot and bleed...
Screaming, chanting, moaning… the noise filled the air,mixed with the smell of burning flesh, spilled blood and guts and other bodily fluids. Nauseating for the one unprepared.
"Rejoice, brothers and sisters! For today is the blessed night of Ascension!"
The voice cut through the noise of the bloody orgy, somewhat silencing it. There, near the pedestal...The man seemed to be the leader of the cult, for his black robes were adorned with gold… His face was hard to discern from a distance...
“The Heart blesses us on this great night. Soon, it will be time to open the gates and shower it with the brunt of our...appreciation.”- a chuckle went through the halls.- “Those that choose to join our master early will forever be remembered by him and us. Tonight we ascend! And when the morning comes - the world will cry out in agony of its rebirth! Celebrate, brothers and sisters! The time has almost come!”
The chant changed to something so wrong and perverted that the ears refused to hear it. It was as if something sharp was scratching on the surface of the brain, as if a a knife was used to play on the nerves,as if they were the strings of a violin. A song that wasn't meant to be heard by a mind that did not know it.
[There is another way out of the balcony… Another way leading somewhere downstairs]
[And there was, is and always will be an option to go back.]
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Post by EtherealNoire on Dec 15, 2019 9:48:00 GMT -8
It horrified her. Pallid digits clung to the balcony's weathered surface as Talea stooped, poisoned by the depraved sight afore her. Her body rebelled, her stomach heaved till, relenting, she slide to her knees and pressed a fevered brow to the stone. The cold nipped her flesh yet she welcomed it oer the flames of Tophet that engulfed this vile pit. Her very essence seemed ablaze, corrupting thoughts with memories long deemed forgotten. Memories of her own path through the tides of gore, sin and death. Night also sensed its resurface, the truth behind her weakened state.
Despite their prior opposition, he reached for her heart, taming her mind with his gelid touch.
Thou hast transcended from such wanton acts, called forth for greater purpose. Grant thy visions strength. Endow thine actions with knowledge. Let their folly be thy blade.
And she found in his words a desire. A burning urge for destruction so great it eclipsed her own trembling spirit. Again her pale fingers met stone as she drew herself to her feet, yet now ire fueled her. It called thorns about her figure like a tempest, violent and dark and bred for decimation. With a soundless cry, she raised her hands towards the lantern, thorns erupting from her shadows and fury from her veins in an all-consuming wave. It shattered every chain, ripping them apart like the bodies of those that would soon oppose them.
As she slipped away down the virgin set of stairs, an ominous crack splintered the air, too late a warning as the bindings gave way and the lantern plummeted to the scene below.
A taste of their wrath to come.
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Post by EloHim on Dec 18, 2019 16:00:13 GMT -8
As she descends the set of stairs she hears only a half of chaos, protected by the stone walls. But even an echo of this... scream is enough to shake even the most sound of minds. For no man or animal could deliver such a noise. It was speaking of rage and pain. Something Talea could revel in if it were coming from something she could face. The Awl vibrates as if alive.
Ravel had nothing to fear from the thing below, for she was so far away it couldn't reach her. But even she was scared. That presence was nothing like the Night. She felt it before, sure, but to hear the primeval power even through such an unfeeling proxy was enough to make her claws dug deep within the palms of her hands in fear.
As the Maiden of Thorns reaches the last step, a smell of burning flesh returned again.
But this time the source was right before her eyes. Right above the hole, which was surrounded by bodies of cultist both burning and not, was a floating burning corpse. But it was moving...seemingly leading the flames around the room along with his very hands. For any other person the corpse would be...an unfamiliar thing. But Talea was blessed and cursed by seeing further into it...This was the very same body she last saw dragged away by the red tentacles...and burned to a crisp.
This...was Leoman. What was left of him, anyway. In his gruesome death Pyromaniac found his own twisted wish fulfilled. He loved fire...and now he became Fire. The half burning corpse didn't seem to notice Talea,entertaining himself with burning away those cultists who didn't manage to get out.
[Would it be a great time to strike at the monster?]
[Or maybe...get out while you still can?]
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Post by EtherealNoire on Dec 19, 2019 5:40:43 GMT -8
It descended upon her heart like maladies, the crushing grip of ire, trepidation and lust, borne from them... her... Night.
She knew not why the malignant spirit afore her kindled such desires. Had they not vanquished the fire spinner in the ruins beyond? Defeated him with ne'er a scratch? Yet her throat burned as if ablaze and her blood boiled as if struck by molten metal, and amidst her own conflictions, Night attacked.
Thorns rent through her unbidden, lurching her forward as he stole songs from her lips. They plowed into the demon's core, while snaking tendrils wrapped about his every limb and joint, content with no less than tearing him asunder.
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Post by EloHim on Dec 22, 2019 12:13:39 GMT -8
Light against Darkness. A constant in everything.
An attack from behind, at the corpse's exposed back. A wall of thorns engulfing him whole. But such an attack was a foolish expenditure of power. Even if effective(no denying that).
The flames raged, burning the tendrils away.
["IN MY RADIANCE YOU SHALL FIND NO VICTORY"]
The burning never stopped. Only got bigger. Soon he was a pillar of flame. A tornado of heat. Untouchable. As the darkness of the thorns cleared out the damage done was visible: the right hand was gone up to the elbow and so were the both his legs up to the knee.
It laughed.
“Look at you, mangling a corpse.” - a familiar voice from a throat burned to a crisp. Leoman's voice.- ”Are you satisfied, witch?! Got your attraction to corpses all riled up because of me?! Like my new look more?!”-He does a spin in the air, shaking what’s left of his hips a little bit.-“Fucking a goat skeleton doesnt make you wet anymore so now you’re getting hots for burned legless pyromaniacs? Sorry, lass, this is all a little one-sided. Plus...not a fan of gangbangs, nor fucking animals. But...Let's burn you up real nice, make you just like me, get the goatface off the picture, and then look if im reciprocatin’, eh?!”
He wasn't waiting for an answer, the stump of his right hand pointing at a nearby burning corpse and swinging upwards. The corpse lit up and flew from his place like a stone thrown by a trebuchet, right at Talea. And then another.
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Post by EtherealNoire on Dec 23, 2019 17:08:32 GMT -8
She heard naught but silence as Night consumed each hasty curse that reached for her, yet silence alone could not erase the salacious gesticulation offered in tandem by the firespinner. Nor could it diminish the seed of contempt spreading through her veins, stygian and suffocating.
Talea bowed beneath Night's power. Let the demon's words speak of its corruption. They would spare it no voice. Only action.
She tumbled forward while thorns bound her crimson strands into a single tress and tendrils coiled about her neck and slender frame. He would protect her, no matter what fires rained upon them.
Dipping past the corpses as though they were nay more than visions in her mind, she sang once more in the tongues of briars. Verily, in a torrent of bristling vines, they answered, silencing the firespinner's curses with thorns.
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