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Post by Braemara on Jan 25, 2017 17:23:34 GMT
Braemara strode into the village, one too small to bear a name or place on any map of the region. She wore a cloak with the hood up, conveniently hiding the more obvious tells to her heritage. She moved lithely, but with a slow gait, one that would be largely overlooked by passerby as she moved to the lone inn. It was the largest building in the town, boasting three stories and a large footprint. It was constructed with wood from the surrounding forest, large logs making up the first two stories, and typical lumber rising above for the third.
Braemara strode in, and paused in the doorway looking around for a moment before moving to the stairs and up. It was decently late at night, so many people were abed, though the common room still held several bustling conversations. Once up the stairs, the sound retreated to a general hubub, and Braemara smiled. She looked to the parchment in her palm, and moved to the last room before the third floor. She entered the room without hesitation.
Dim lights filled the room, casting shadows over a sleeping form. The parchment got slipped into the pocket of her cloak, then the hood was drawn back. A wicked smile crossed her lips as she gazed at the sleeping form of the all too brutish man who had attempted to summon her mother, a felinoid demoness currently locked away in the necklace that was ever present around Braemara's neck. She locked the door behind her, then strode to the sleeping form, drawing in the dark powers of the night, and those that raced through her blood.
Eyes flashing gold, she threw a hand into the air, and a dark web encapsulated the man. The man shocked awake and started to scream.
"Shhhhh, darling...none of that..." She said, and locked her gaze to his. With a whisper of will, the man was still and silent. She continued to cast her web around the man, a dark cocoon shaping about him. The man showed a mild promise as a demon summoner, and knew her mothers true name well enough to shake the jewel she was in. Braemara couldn't have her getting free, not until she herself was powerful enough to take her on. So, she would take this summoner, and use him to gain strength.
With a will of power, the cocooned man slid from the bed and to the window. The window opened, and the man slid through the air to a waiting form on the ground. Braemara followed, scaling the wooden logs easily with her clawed fingers, then lead the corpse carrying the still living man out into the woods.
Out into what will become the Blood Wood.
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Post by Braemara on Jan 26, 2017 17:14:59 GMT
Into the woods, Braemara and her undead servant moved, the cocooned form of the poor little summoner still entranced and silent in the arms of the zombie. After a half hour or so of walking, they came to a clearing. Braemara had spent most of the preceding days setting it up. She had summoned a stone slab, nine feet long and three feet wide, with the top resting four feet off the ground. Crude steps had risen out of the ground, surrounding it like a dais. Brilliant white standing stones ringed the sacrificial table, with smaller stones spiraling in towards the table from each of them.
Silently, Braemara guided the zombie into the circle, had it move through a spiral and up the steps to place the young man on the table. She then dismissed the zombie to the exterior of the circle and entered herself. She left her cloak outside, remaining in only a leather jerkin and pants, with a black tunic beneath and black leather boots climbing up her calves. She ran her fingers down the cocoon, from crown to toe, and it split, decaying at her touch from around the man.
"Inta'alka" she intoned, raising her palms up. Stone braced the mans arms and legs, holding him tight to the table. She then made a pulling motion, a dark web cascaded off of the man, and he blinked for the first time since she had woken him.
"Ahh...wha...whe...who? Who are you? Where am I?" The summoner stammered. Braemara merely smiled down at him for a few moments, drinking in the scent of fear rolling off of the man in waves as he struggled against the unyielding stone.
"I am the daughter of Alimara Felinasseck'a." She said with a slow, languid tempo to her voice. Her tongue wrapped around the words with such precision that the blood stone in her necklace thrummed audibly and pulsed visibly as she finished the true name of her mother. The summoner shrank back, or attempted to on the hard stone. "You are in my prepared ritual space, in the woods..." Her face crept into a wicked smile as she said this, almost as if that should explain everything.
"I...I didn't...I mean..." The man continued to stammer. "The students at the Circle said it would work!" He blurted, answering one of her questions before she even turned him.
"Shhhhh, love. Don't worry, it will be over...eventually." She let her fingernails shift back into claws, and easily shredded the light clothing he had worn to sleep from his body. He continued to lay there, now shivering. Her words had silenced him.
Silenced him, until she began to etch runes carefully into his flesh with the tip of a claw. Then, his screams echoed in the clearing, but went little further. She had raised several servants to make sure she wasn't interrupted, and so she enjoyed the music while she worked.
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Post by Talaiel on Jan 27, 2017 5:02:13 GMT
Forests were her home. She knew the names of all the trees and plants and some of the languages of the tree-spirits that dwelt within. Many of them were wary of outsiders, with good cause. But if you could speak to them in the tongue of wind on leaves and the scrape of branches, then they were more welcoming. But that didn't help her know where was. Dryads weren't known for being travelers, let alone navigators. Yet here she was in some unfamiliar area of the forest. Talaiel frowned and pushed a strand of hair away from her eyes. This was most certainly not Haven. The ghost-road she walked led in that direction but had somehow managed to land her here instead. She found that, honestly, to be quite exasperating sometimes, even if it usually meant she had paladin duties to attend to. Where or how, though, she had no idea. Shrugging, she pulled out the pan-pipes and started ambling forward in whichever direction her feet seemed to carry her. The music was fey- wild and eerie and free and joyful- and it danced through the forests, weaving between trunk and leaf, grass and flower, man and beast. Yes, many could hear it entwined with the wind. But there was something else too, that she heard now. Screaming. The music stopped for a heart-beat and continued, more urgent now as she shifted her direction, feet silent on the forest floor. In one hand, she continued to play the pipes, while the other held her bow. Music could do many things, she had found, especially what she had learned from the fey. Most importantly, it covered the sound of her foot-steps. The song changed- manic now and driven into a frenzy. For the townsfolk that might hear it, they would shiver and make warding signs against whatever wild things lurked in the forest. For that was the nature of the fey. They were wild, uncontrollable, unpredictable. As likely to make one rich and then the next moment turn one into a frog. Not for harm, of course, but for the amusement it gave them. While Talaiel was not fey, but mixed human and elf, she had been raised by the fey and adopted many of their attitudes, although focused by her oath. As she walked, the screaming grew louder and louder. She played harder, pushing the music out into the wood, mingling like blood and water, with the screams that she could now hear were of pain. Agonized, terrified, desperate pain. Dark pain- she could sense it now too. It explained why the roads had led her here. She stopped then and focused on playing as she considered how best to respond. Braemara
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Post by Braemara on Jan 27, 2017 17:00:17 GMT
The screaming from the young summoner was such a beautiful sound that Braemara almost closed her eyes to enjoy it. Doing so, however, would have possibly led to a mistake, and that would be such a waste of a specimen. She continued to work, carving runes of a long forgotten civilization into the flesh. As she did, she began to push her power into him. It would be a disconcerting feeling to the summoner, pain from the carving mixed with pleasure from the dark energy slipping into him. This was all in preparation, she was going to alter this summoner into a creature that was bound to the earth, but also undead. It was a dangerous task, one she had tried and failed on three other summoners. The key, was the knowledge of Alimara's true name. Having that knowledge opened the summoner to her energy, and that energy would quicken the change Braemara was going for. The music of the screams was then accompanied, lowly at first but building closer and faster. It sounded like a pan flute, which was unusual, and it was getting closer despite the screams and dark aura of blood magic being cast. That meant someone was going to interfere. She couldn't spare attention now, not if she was going to finishing this casting. Her traditional zombies would have to do as a deterrent for the moment. The screaming continued even after she finished the final rune. Braemara gripped her necklace with a bloody hand. "Oh, mother...you didn't know I was paying close attention to everything you were doing, all of these years." She crooned to the amulet that held her mother. "But, I have figured out the final pieces of this puzzle, and now I will raise an earthbound." She giggled a little bit, then slit the back of her arm while releasing the amulet from the necklace. The amulet warmed as Alimara tasted the absence of cold iron, but Braemara bore down with her mind, keeping her mother in the blood stone. She mixed the blood on her arm with the bloody blood stone, then pressed it to the summoners forehead. She closed her eyes now, and began to chant in a language that felt as foul as it sounded to mortals. The mans skin began to take on a gray tone, similar to the stone table he laid on. His skin was beginning to harden, odd calcification forming in places, and the runes glowing a brilliant, fiery red. Talaiel
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Post by Whisper on Jan 27, 2017 23:08:39 GMT
Braemara | Melara | TalaielPower called power. Misery called for misery. This was something Whisper was intimately familiar with. She wasn't too sure what had called her out here in the corner of a mighty and vast continent, but where she went Melara followed and so they came. Swift in the shadows and light as the wind they wandered, until they arrived and when they arrived they observed. It were days before it finally happened. Whisper, true to her name, had been sitting on one of the thatched roofs humming to herself. The villagers had stopped bothering her, after one of her enchantments had warded off all the rats plaguing their village. They were content for now. Then a shambling corpse appeared, faintly illuminated by the rays of the moon. Her head cocked in confusion, but there it was. As right as rain, shambling with the dirt of its grave still clinging to ruined clothes. " Hmm." Whisper whispered in a hum. " I think that is our cue." Said to Melara. There wasn't much else to do here and the Witch had not traveled all the way here to ward off rats for filthy peasants. So they stuck to the shadows, presumably. Waited and followed once the man was taken out of the tavern, followed by a horned tiefling in suit. Now it's getting interesting, she thought to herself. They would wander and walk, sticking to the whispers. But what to do... what to do? What to do about the horned lady, her friend and victim?
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Post by Melara on Jan 28, 2017 8:24:58 GMT
Travelling with Whisper had never been boring. While they might have had disagreements on certain issues Melara wasn’t one to try and argue with a half-orc of a considerable size compared to herself. Oh in her mind they were fast friends, and friends had disagreements. It was just natural.
Having been somewhat distracted from the world of mortals by subtle wishes at the back of her mind she flinched a little at Whisper’s sudden conversation opener. “What?” The redhead elf perked her brow at the shambling corpse. “Well that’s peachy.”
Melara wouldn’t ever claim to know — or care for — the hypocrisy in her own words and actions. The thought of necromancy was one that turned her off yet the idea of using the power of blood was something to power herself or to summon demons was one of those things that struck her more as pioneering in a field than anything else. On a moral ground, necromancy was the greater of the two evils, a demon could be controlled and was already alive — immortal, even — when brought to the mortal plane. A corpse had already died, decomposed. Where was the greatness in that?
There was none.
Shambling corpses were just yucky in general.
Still, a walking corpse meant that there was someone around that was as interested in breaking Circle rules as Mel was. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Not necessarily a good thing either, but Melara would focus on the part that suited her the better and right now that was the fact that she and Whisper were going to, most likely, try and follow this corpse to its master.
And follow they did.
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Post by Talaiel on Jan 28, 2017 21:36:32 GMT
Braemara Melara Whisper The clearing ahead of her reeked with the undead, as clearly as the moon shone through the inter-laced branches above. Talaiel swallowed nervously, still playing that wild tune. How was she to approach this? She'd never actually done any paladin'ing before, all things considered. Not like this anyway. Most of her paladin'ing involved helping wayward travelers find their way again. Hefayne's guiding spirit, some called her when she materialized from the wilderness around them. But undead? That was something all together different. It would mean fighting and she'd never quite done that before. With one last fey-wild trill, she stopped the music. Its echoes wove between the trees, a gossamer web of an age long past and forgotten, before settling into a deep silence that lay across the clearing. She tucked the pipes back into the tunic where they hung around her neck and she drew an arrow from her quiver, nocking it to the string. The voices she could still hear, and she crept through the trees, crouched low until she drew near a thick old pine. She looked out into the clearing and paled. There was something darkly wrong going on in the clearing, although she wasn't sure what exactly was going on. A corpse shuffled along not far away, looking away from her, and it stank. Both of necromancy, but also of physical decay. Talaiel wrinkled her nose in disgust and muttered a prayer over the arrow. She drew back the string, shifting it to follow the corpse's movements and lead the target. Then she loosed the arrow. It snapped forward and light radiated out from its tip, casting stark shadows across the clearing. Talaiel blinked in surprise, mouth half-open as she watched. Then reality smacked her and slipped back into the forest, loping around the clearing away from where she had just been. If they were working magic, she didn't want to be in one place where they might throw fireballs at her.
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Post by Sephoria the Undying on Jan 29, 2017 21:01:37 GMT
Sephoria had simply picked a direction and started walking. Weeks had been spent without sight of manmade buildings of any sort. A chance meeting with a traveler upon the road had informed her that there was a village in this direction. That had been days prior. In that time the woman had managed to lose the road and ended up trekking through the woods. Old worn out armor pieces clattered as she stumbled to the ground after tripping over a root. A sigh passed her lips and she pushed herself up onto her knees. Wait... Why was the forest so silent? She stopped and quieted her breath to listen. Was that screaming? The Mapheri soldier took off into a run, weaving between trees as fast as she could with the rugged terrain. The sounds of torture got a little louder and then dulled as the ritual victim had started to progress to the next level. She had to search manually now. Then the smell of death crossed the woman's nostrils. Her hand passed from the pommel of her steel sword to the pommel of the silver one at her side. Her gut told her that something was wrong here. Something unnatural was occurring. The light from Talaiel's blessed arrow made the warrior turn her attention to the right as she saw a half elf archer running from something. " Girl," yelled Sephoria to get Talaiel's attention. She wouldn't be alone. Talaiel Braemara Melara Whisper
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Post by Braemara on Jan 31, 2017 18:57:07 GMT
The swirling of blood magic within the circle consumed her focus as she drew on the earth and her mother's life force to imbue the summoner beneath her with unlife and more. Only vaguely was she aware of anything going on outside the circle, inured as she was to the outside as her tongue wrapped around words that had hardly ever been uttered on this plane. The Hefayne paladin's bolt of light got slightly more reaction, but she focused through it. The holy arrow struck the zombie squarely where the archer had aimed, and the zombie folded in upon itself around the arrow. The holy bolt seemed to impart more force than normal against the undead. The zombie hit the upright stone behind it and crumbled to dust. Other zombies, alerted only by the death of one of their number, turned and ambled towards the paladin. The lack of agility and sense was the reason that Braemara continued to focus, bearing down on the magic, forcing the change onto the summoner. After a moment, the summoner took up the same chant as Braemara, seeming to summon the blood magic and demonic lifeforce into himself. The changes to his body took more hold, hardening his skin and turning it ash white. His muscles beneath grew slightly, but remained lean. After a few more moments of chanting, the eyes flew open and flashed blue. Braemara focused on finishing the casting, magically tieing the earthbound undead creatures will to her. It had to be done now, and it had to be done right, or the creature would be loosed upon the world, and she would have to find someone else to turn. Sephoria the Undying Talaiel Melara Whisper
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Post by Talaiel on Feb 6, 2017 1:26:38 GMT
Sephoria the Undying Braemara Whisper Girl! A voice called out through the wood, and Talaiael looked up in surprise, catching a branch in surprise as she suddenly changed directions. It was a woman in old, weather-beaten armor. Why was she yelling? Did she want the zombies to know where she was? But it was too late now. The others were already shambling their way towards her. Talaiel nocked another arrow and drew the string back, letting it loose. It zipped through the air, aiming to catch the nearest zombie in the head. "What?" She yelled back, pulling another arrow from her quiver, suddenly catching sight of what has happening at the altar. It looked bad. It looked really bad. Talaiel had never seen anything like it before. Perhaps, if she had been part of a formal order, she would have had an education on the subject. But she hadn't, so she had no idea. She darted forward again, drifting between the trees until she was closer to the other woman, turning to look behind her. "This isn't a good place to be right now. If you don't have to, I would suggest leaving." The oddness of what she said registered and she frowned slightly. "I'm a paladin of Hefayne. I'm speaking authoritatively when I say this is a bad place to be right now."
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Post by Sephoria the Undying on Feb 12, 2017 22:24:46 GMT
Mirth overcame Sephoria as she laughed at Talaiel's odd phrasing. It was certainly not a good place to be. She seemed young, but it was clear to Seph that the elven girl meant well. There was no need for her to take this burden on by herself. "No well meaning soul dies alone on my watch."The woman drew her silver sword and gripped it in both hands as the shining blade rose above her head. A shambling zombie stumbled into range, and the blade came down and chopped the damned creature's arm off. The blade did not stop, but rather simply twisted in fluid movement as her body spun around. The blade then dismembered the creature's head from behind by cutting through its spine and collarbone. She had no magic of her own, but silver could nullify the dark magic that animated bone and rotting flesh. It certainly wasn't as efficient as a mage's fire, but it would keep zombies from pulling their bones back together on their own. "MOVE Paladin of Heyfane," shouted the Mapheri soldier as she took off in a run with her sword held to her side with two hands. The clearing with Braemara's ritual was within view. There were undead to content with, but they were slow weak creations. It would only impede them for a time. The silver blade drove into the rib cage of another abomination as Sephoria collided with another undead. "Shoot the mage!" Easier said then done. Talaiel Braemara
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Post by Talaiel on Feb 25, 2017 21:33:14 GMT
Sephoria the Undying Braemara Talaiel started as the woman drew a strange looking sword and ran past her towards the shambling zombies, quickly severing one with barely a struggle. The half-elf sprang forward through the trees, weaving along the edge of the clearing with hardly a whisper of her shadow upon the ground. She nocked another arrow and looked back. The swordswoman stabbed another zombie and yelled at her. Shoot the mage? Didn't they normally have magic shields and such around them? Things that would shoot lightning at her? But she was a paladin. That had to count for something, right? She whispered another prayer and took a stance. Not one for speed shooting, but accuracy and power. She drew back, lips almost kissing the fletching. She looked down the arrow to the mage who stood by the alter and loosed the arrow. It sang forward- glowing with a holy light again. But another corpse was moving towards her, so she ducked away, running into the woods again, looking for a sturdy limb low enough to climb onto. Undead couldn't climb, could they? Talaiel sprinted forward and jumped, catching her hands around the limb and hauling herself up. The bark bit at her hands, but she ignored it. Then she was up, scrambling from limb to limb until she could look out over the clearing with little difficulty. It still didn't look good, but such was her role. Not quite the part of the job she preferred, but like emptying chamber pots, was necessary. Another shambler made its way towards the other woman and Talaiel loosed another arrow, aiming for the thing's head.
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