Best Of

Backstory: Bulrok started off in the congregation of Bamathis. During the War of Might and Strife, Chakrasul started toying around with Bul's head, and by the end of it, had converted him to her side. Bulrok met a girl, Swara, starting falling madly in love, and Chakrasul started using her against him. She gave him a task, and anytime he was slacking, Chak threatened her to motivate him. Task was finally finished, but Bulrok hadn't heard from Chakrasul or Rijetta in a few weeks. His paranoia was on high alert, because Chakrasul had been in his head a lot, and now she wasn't.

Note: This was immediately after @Robyn 's log, so there's a lot of commotion going on and a lot of premotes at the start of the log.

Burlok's thoughts are marked with a * at the start.

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Swara snickers softly, eyeing you.

You say to Swara, "What would you like to go do, love?"

In a murmur, Liarra says, "Speaking of biting..."

Mjoll chomps her teeth together on empty air.

A creeping sense of despair hedges into your mind and as the pit begins to manifest in your stomach, you find you're able to smell something sickly sweet; death.

Liarra smirks at Mjoll.

Axius peers about herself suspiciously.

Swara says to you, "Anyth..."

You shudder violently as a chill ripples down your spine.

Swara clears her throat.

Mjoll shivers visibly.

Axius says, "Wh...the pit was that?"

Swara says to you, "Anything you'd like."

Liarra picks up a headless corpse.

With a lustful grin Liarra drives her fangs into a vein of the corpse of a giddy Tsinkin attendant
and, slurping greedily, draws out its still-warm blood from the wound in long, deep, sucking pulls. Finally satisfied, she casually discards the corpse.

Axius snickers under her breath.

Bulrok wraps his arm around Swara tightly, his eyes scanning the area as he remains quiet.

Axius chews thoughtfully on a small kawhe candy lollipop.

Kandara frowns as she lifts her head and sniffs carefully at the air.

Liarra slips up to Axius quite cozily, "Care for a drink?"

You feel distinctly short of breath for a moment or two, gulping deep lungfuls of air reflexively
before the sensation passes.

Axius rolls a small kawhe candy lollipop around inside of her mouth, the stick shifting and
wriggling between her lips as she eyes up Liarra curiously. She asks, "So... can I guess that
whatever that scent was..it came from you?"

Axius snickers under her breath.

Axius peers at an onyx and jade teacup suspiciously.

Axius chews thoughtfully on a small kawhe candy lollipop.

Liarra tilts her head curiously and asks, "Scent?"

Axius looks about herself, rubbing her chin thoughtfully.

Swara says, "The smell of death."

Axius says, "Looks like my kawhepot decayed. I've got plenty to drink though."

Axius takes a vibrant blue glass bottle from a woven hand basket.

Axius sips from a vibrant blue glass bottle full of rich kawhe whiskey.

"Heh heh heh," Axius chuckles.

Kandara pauses, before lofting her reptilian brow. "Makes my scales tingle." Kandara would
momentarily grunt before going back to casually sniffing the air.

Axius says, "..or I forgot it in my kitchen. Would not doubt I did that. Should check later."

Liarra smirks at Kandara.

Swara murmurs to you, "I wouldn't mind stealing some kisses. If I get a pick."

The corners of Swara's mouth turn up as she grins mischievously.

Pondering Axius intently, Liarra sucks thoughtfully on her teeth.

Swara murmurs to you, "Just not at the gate."

Axius says, "In any case, I'm quite content with my kawhe whiskey. At least while I lack any Kawhe
in my preferred cup here."

Axius snickers under her breath.

Liarra beckons to Axius, "Come?"

Axius says, "And worst case scenario, I want something a bit heavier.. I keep liquid death in one of
my glass vials."

Axius peers about herself suspiciously.

Axius says, "Why not? Nothing ventured, nothing gained."

Liarra leaves to the southeast, followed by Axius.
She is followed by a massive twin-tailed demon cat and an undead minion.

Bulrok snaps back to focus, looking at Swara with a little bit of shock in his eyes. "Oh.." He blinks, nodding. "Of course."

Kandara seems confused as she turns a slow circle before flopping on the ground. "I can't tell where
it's coming from. It's like the weird whispers from last week...and the jade trail."

You say, "Jade trail?"

Swara raises an eyebrow at Kandara.

Mjoll asks Kandara, "How about the butterfly?"

Kandara says, in a feral tongue, "Yeah it was jade essence. I couldn't follow it however. No
butterflies."

You narrow your eyes to thin slits.

Swara says, "Huh."

Swara looks about herself, rubbing her chin thoughtfully.

You say, "Jade essence and butterflies?"

Kandara says, in a feral tongue, "No butterflies."

Mjoll nods her head at you.

You raise an eyebrow at Mjoll.

Darkness conceals the source of a loudly snapping twig behind you.

Mjoll shrugs helplessly.

Mjoll nods her head emphatically.

"I'm.." Bulrok starts as he looks around uncertainly. "Gods. I am incredibly paranoiad." he says, not finishing his first train of thought.


Kandara reaches up and rubs her muzzle as she turns her head in the direction of your voice. "And I'm going crazy!" She would singsong rather cheerfully before turning giving the air one last tentative sniff before going back to stretching out on the ground.

"Try to relax, Ser" Mjoll rumbles with a grin.

Swara says, "Not too much though. The guards here apparently enjoy shaving people."

The loud sound of thunder rolls through the skies, shaking the air around you.

Casting a glance around at each guard, Mjoll rumbles, "I dare 'em."

Mjoll wrinkles her nose and sniffs.

Mjoll says, "I need to patrol."

Mjoll dashes off, definitely \not\ scared of suddenly going bald.

Swara's eyes sparkle with amusement.

An unseen person mutters out from somewhere behind you, "Better run."

*Relaxation refuses to come to Bulrok, his thoughts drifting to Her and Swara-

You say, "Voltda."
You quickly utter the phrase and see a sulfurous hole open in the ground before you. Without
hesitation, you jump in.
Swara follows you to the ether.
Within the Death Caves.
Magical darkness enshrouds this area. A black rhinoceros is here, pawing at the ground. A surplus Bloodlochian milita pack lies here. A single stocking has been hung up here.
You see exits leading north, northeast, east, southeast, south, southwest, west, northwest, and up.

Swara follows you to the south.
A crack in the mountainside.
A granite monument stands here, its surface polished to a shine. A pike with a shriveled head has been stuck here as warning to any intruder who would dare enter Bloodloch. White wings draping like a cloak over its back, a gryphon stands tall here. A sigil in the shape of a small, rectangular
monolith is on the ground.
You see exits leading north and south.

A ring of jade flames erupt around Swara and begins to shrink rapidly around her. Unholy tongues of emerald fire leap upwards into the heavens above as they reach Swara, setting her alight. Screams of agony, like a benediction to suffering itself, fill the air as she fades amidst the acrid smoke and smell of charred flesh.

Bulrok begins panting as he stops, having reached just outside the city. "Pit-".

You say, "unicorns."

You close your eyes momentarily and extend the range of your vision, seeking out the presence of Swara.
You see that Swara is at A sunken ritual chamber in the Isle of Despair.
You detect 1 other person in that location.

More running.

The throne room.
The Throne of Corruption stands here, its obsidian magnificence a shadowed praise to the Dark Lady.
A large book sits on a wrought iron stand. A large mural is hung on display above the southern
doorway. A statue of a duskywing sits here, impaled by a longsword engraved with "SS". A large,
black-marble altar rests here.
You see exits leading north and south (open pine door).

As the prism tattoo's shape is codified, the last of the ink leaves the air, and you pause for a
moment to admire your handiwork.

You use Tattoos Prism.
You touch the prism tattoo and suddenly a razor-thin beam of prismatic light shoots off into the distance.

An irresistible force pulls you along to the other end of the prismatic light.
A sunken ritual chamber.
This marble chamber has been filled with a dark liquid that seems to writhe of its own accord.
Various niches in the walls have been carved, holding many different colored candles which provide a dim light to the otherwise lightless room. Each wall bears different murals, the scenes depicting the tale of Tiyen Indoron, the northern wall depicting the castle itself in shadowed glory. Rotted corpses and old bones sit piled against the southern wall, blood fresh and old staining them. Dark liquid laps at the cold marble, the scent of decay rising from the pool of liquid Corruption. Glittering in the dim light is a diamond-bladed knife. Swara is here. Duskywing butterflies flit lazily around the form of Chakrasul, Goddess of Corruption here.
There are no obvious exits.

Chakrasul continues to swirl Her slender fingers through the writhing liquid that is cupped at the center of the ritual chamber, Her eyes remaining downcast, even with your arrival. The dim light makes it hard to catch Her expression, but the flickering candles at the edges of the room barely reach Her.

Bulrok enters, breathing heavily as beads of sweat begin to form across his temple.
"Mot-Mother." he manages in between breaths. He glances around as he tries to catch his breath and figure out what is going on.

Swara's grey gaze falls to the liquid and she stares at it for a time before looking back to
Chakrasul. One hand lifts to nervously rub the back of her neck as she shifts her weight from one foot to the other.

You cannot decide if the blackness hedging into the edges of your vision is from the darkness of the room, or if it's because your heart is beating so incredibly fast. Either way, the hammering in your ears is beginning to make you dizzy.

Bulrok sways for a moment, a hand reaching out to the nearest wall to steady
himself. He continues to try, unsuccessfully, to catch his breath. Instead his breathing increases
as his eyes go in and out of focus. He shakes his head, doing his best to stand up right, returning his gaze towards the Goddess.

"Suppose I best get on with it, then." Chakrasul decides and Her white gown ripples like water
around Her small frame as She fluidly rises to Her full height. "My soldier here - My Dark
Chaplain," She begins conversationally as Her bare feet glide Her around the pool's edge and towards Swara, "Performed a task for Me." She still seems to be completely ignoring you with those luminous eyes locked only on Swara. "He, and My Voice, put the journey into words. Unfortunately for you, his Harrowing was easy. A buildup of torment, of hunger, of malice." As She continues Her explanation, She finds Herself before Swara. "At the end, the final step." Her voice drops low as She ushers on a raw, dark whisper, "The Breaking." Her hands snap forward to grab Swara and She spins her so Swara's spine is pinned against Her chest, facing her towards you. The little Goddess peeks over the mortal's shoulder, now finally looking at you. A glimmer in the darkness suggests a smile as the faint candlelight reflects off of pearly fangs.

Panic. Panic is the first thing you feel rising in your chest and with it comes a shortness of
breath.

Bulrok barely moves, fear rooting him to the spot. His breathing sporadic, as if he
had never done it before and was only just learning how today. The fear keeps him silent, as he
stares towards Swara, confusion and worry intermingling in the expression across his face.

At first Swara's attention is diverted from the Goddess by the physical struggle you seems to be
having, her gaze focused on him as, "Love?" comes from her lips in a concerned whisper. Then her attention is caught once more by Chakrasul, a lump rising in the woman's throat at the Goddess's words, she backs away, slowly as Chakrasul speaks but to no avail and she soon finds herself in a hopeless position. Her eyes lock on you and she wriggles against Chakrasul's grasp, desperation flashing in her eyes as she shakes her head. "No... don't..." her voice is quiet, a mixture of fear, anger, a twinge of hatred furrowing her brow.

The absolute silence of the room makes the intimate whisper of Chakrasul seem deafening. "Come now. Do you want to halt the progress of your beloved?" The Immortal poses the question to Swara and Her chin grazes Swara's shoulder as She cants Her head enough to cast a sidelong glance to the mortal in Her grasp. "You hate Me, of that matters not. But I expect you to support him in his faith. He seeks Might in its truth. To protect you. To protect the Keep. To protect Bloodloch. His faith." Lower still, She manages to speak. "If you could turn him against Me, would you?" Her smile widens and She unfurls Her wings to balance Her tiny frame against the struggling mortal - though, the power radiating off of Her suggests it's simply part of Her facade.

The chamber groans in protest as jade essence splinters across every wall and as it begins to writhe along the slick surface, it brings with it the sickly sweet smell of decay.


Swara swallows loudly, flinching at the words spoken by Chakrasul, her efforts to escape weaker now, almost as if she's going through the motions of a dance she knows will inevitably end in failure. "It's been... everything I can do to..." she grits her teeth, turning her face away from the Goddess to stare at a wall. "I feel -anything- but protected," she whispers, not attempting to stifle the fear in her voice. "I doubt the strength offered."

*Bulrok's mind is a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, each one clashing into the other, the resulting collision causing an explosion that gives birth to a hundred more. As he fights to calm his mind, finally he sees what's right in front of him. Swara held by Chakrasul. He scrambles his thoughts, trying to clear his mind again. As they refocus, he sees the same two again. Only this time it's Swara holding Chakrasul, the roles reversed. Confusion runs rampant across his thoughts, crashing the imagery and reshaping them again. Chakrasul holding Swara's life, Swara holding Chakrasul's. This happens a thousand times, over and over until it finally just...stops.


Bulrok swallows, his breathing still out of control, but slowing a little. He looks
towards Swara, pushing off the wall as he stands, still swaying a little, disbelief in his eyes as
she speaks.

The sigh that escapes Chakrasul is forlorn; disappointed even. "A body must be broken, muscles tornand strengthened, to create a warrior. Days upon weeks upon months of gruelling training goes into the making of a soldier's body. Do you think it just... Materialises? No." She shoves Swara into your arms now, Her displeasure apparently in the sneer that crawls across Her mouth. "What good, then, is a strong body with a weak mind, Swara? No amount of pure muscle will win a war. If Enorian marched on Bloodloch today, and they took you from him... And he does..." She waves an absent hand at you, "This? He freezes? Tsk." She glides towards the pair of you now, Her feet moving but making no sound. "No. I will hone his mind. I will break it. I will rebuild it - again, and again, and again. Until fear cannot be used against him. Until he acts with malice first. Until he craves the challenge. Until. He. Breathes. It." The ending is delivered on a chilling hiss and you're immediately alarmed as the Immortal manifests a jade blade that gleams as She twirls it in Her palm. "Whether I like it or not - whether you like it or not - I will also strengthen you, Swara. Your resolve. Your hatred." Her verdant gaze snaps to you and She offers the dagger to you.

Chakrasul says, "Make your choice, My Dark Chaplain."

Kill. Kill. Kill. No! You love her, your sweet beloved... Your anchor. Your warmth. Yet... You're
momentarily overwhelmed by a series of familiar visions; fighting beside Chakrasul with a weapon of Corruption and as your Goddess dances across the field, spitting curses and swinging Her scythe, you feel Might. It's pure. There is no insecurity - there is no question of your worth. You know your strength. You will. Give. Everything. Anything. More images topple over it, each one a continuation of the last.

Swara pulls away from your arms, opting to remain standing beside you though her form trembles. Her words are shaky but somehow firm as she says, "I asked only for love, not protection. I never asked for protection, I never said I -needed- it."

Eventually, the hammering of your heart drowns everything out. Every sound. Every vision. Yet, a decision you still have to make. Fight, or flight?

Sweat rolls down your spine, it beads on your upper lip and you shake with the magnitude of the moment playing out before you.

Chakrasul's eyes remain locked on you, as if she's waiting for... Something. Goading. Tormenting. But Her words are for Swara, "Then you know him little, child. For protecting is his nature. For battle, is his nature. For fighting for what he believes in is... Everything. With that love, comes his undying protection. For you, or Me."

You have emoted: Bulrok stares at Swara for a long moment. His eyes are almost blank as he does. Without saying anything, he turns towards Chakrasul, reaching for the blade that rests in Her outstretched hand. "I cannot stop now, Swara. The strength you doubt is mine, not Hers." He glances up at Chakrasul, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I told You I would not dissappoint You."

"Because I hate Her, because She preys on people, exploits their weaknesses," Swara's voice is low but it grows less shaky, despite the dread on her face. Not so much a cry for mercy as a plea for understanding. "Ever downward, 'Rok," she mutters, simply standing in place, eyes fixed on you.

The sneer that was plastered on Chakrasul's face finally shatters and in its place; a dark, twisted
smile. "I never doubted it." The Goddess croons and She releases the blade into your possession
before She steps back and, with a grand sweep of Her arm She encourages you with an echo of
agreement to Swara. "Ever downwards."

As Bulrok grips the cold, jade athame, the dark whispers covering it rise and whisp
away, the jade essence along the blade revealing itself. He moves towards Swara slowly, still
gripping the weapon. His body has finally relaxed, his breathing normal. He stops in front of Swara, his free hand raising to her chin. He leans in slowly, his voice calm. "I love you." he whispers. As he does, he goes to plunge the dagger into Swara.

Swara doesn't flinch, simply reaches out and curls her fingers around your wrist as the dagger is thrust forward, not to stop it, almost to guide it or perhaps follow its progress. The look of betrayel in her eyes is only outdone by the pain as she murmurs in a guttural tone, "Know that this is why."

Morose, anguished howls follow the death of Swara as her life abruptly ends during Bulrok's trial of Might.
Your ally has fallen at A sunken ritual chamber.

Disregarding the blood that begins to bloom across the pure white fabric of Her gown, Chakrasul slides Her arms beneath Swara's now dead body and cradles it as She turns and walks towards the pool. One step after the other, the Immortal walks until She is at the center and as She crouches down, She closes Her eyes.

(Tells): In a deep, gravelly voice, Iesid imparts to you, "Heartless git."

(Tells): Liarra whispers into your consciousness, "Mm, congratulations."

Chakrasul picks up the corpse of Swara.

It's soft at first, but you recognise the language leaving Chakrasul's lips as Kalsu and although
Her expression is one of twisted delight - pride, even - the words are spoken with a surprising
tenderness.

Power radiates off of Chakrasul as She wills Swara's rattling breath. A heartbeat. A rising of her
chest. Verdant eyes look down at the limp mortal and before she can come to, the Goddess is already departing the pool of Corruption. Dark tendrils writhe after the Divine, some of them clinging to Her even as Her back foot leaves the waters. "She has Might, My soldier." The Goddess croons as She hands Swara with a foreign gentleness to you. "In time, you will be a formidable pair. For now, My concern is only you."

Although you feel it - you feel the despair, the heartache - and you know you will need to make this up to Swara, yet... Yet you are at ease. The fear She held over you has gone, as if you admitted it, claimed it, and mastered it all before Her. That's when it washes over you. Pride. She graces you with a bolstering of pure Might, it washes through your lungs, it whorls around your veins and it wraps around your heart as it beats steadily. Progress.

Chakrasul, Goddess of Corruption has invited you to join the Divine Order of Chakrasul, Goddess of Corruption and awaits a response.
AGREE if you wish to join the order.

(Chosen): Chakrasul says, "Welcome, My Dark Chaplain."

Bulrok's eyes close for a moment, his breathing slow enough to appear as if he
wasn't. He opens them slowly, looking towards Chakrasul. "Thank You, Mother. I will continue my journey down Your Spiral."


Bulrok flicks his gaze towards Swara for a brief moment, almost afraid to look the
woman in the eye.

Swara takes a couple minutes to come fully to, regaining her bearings as her eyes slowly flutter
open. She pulls away from you, staring after Chakrasul with a wordless frown.

Chakrasul's head dips into a small, gracious nod. For now, She does not wear malice, nor fear or despair. Only an archaic power radiates off of Her and She pushes some of Swara's hair away from her face. "She will not know it for some time, Mine, but she wears My favor. She was your biggest weakness, it was the only trial fitting enough." One. Two steps back and the Goddess gestures towards a hidden stair that leads up and out of the chamber. "She will hate Me for longer yet. It is a burden I will carry to ensure your growth, Dark Chaplain." The whisper is raw and everything about its delivery speaks a truth to your heart. "For now. Go home."

You nod your head emphatically.

On a low, husky whisper, Chakrasul says, "You need but speak of having desires to claim - near the duskywing trio. That is the exit of the sanctuary."

You say to Swara, "I can..if you want..I could take you back home."

She still doesn't understand.

Nothing but pure disgust radiates from Swara at the touch from Chakrasul, but she remains silent for a time, clenching her jaw. "I think I've had enough help from you for now, thanks," she finally snaps at you. Then she inclines her head toward Chakrasul, voice oozing hatred as she murmurs, "Goddess."

Swara leaves to the up.

You roll your eyes.

Around a dark chuckle, Chakrasul says, "Before you go after your beloved, Mine. The last piece."
Upturning a hand, jade essence coalesces into a small trinket which Chakrasul presses into your palm after taking your hand. "Wear it." The command is simple and She has already vanished into the darkness around you before you can even blink. Yet, Her voice whips past your ears. "A love earned is a love cherished. This is not the first time your faith will rock the boat, My soldier. But I have ensured it will be the hardest. It is only easy breathing from here."

You swell with pride as the tiny duskywing butterfly within the cage responds to you by exploding into motes of jade light, recognizing you as one of Her Chosen.
You are now wearing an encaged miniature duskywing butterfly.

As the jade motes of light begin to float towards the bottom of the miniature cage, they coalesce into the form of the metaphysical butterfly and it begins to flit lazily within its enclosure.

You say, "Voltda."
You quickly utter the phrase and see a sulfurous hole open in the ground before you. Without
hesitation, you jump in.

So not too terribly long ago Robyn got into it with one of Spinesreachs guards at the Inner Gate, which was funny enough. Then it happened again. Kudos to whomever upstairs is doing this cause I can not stop laughing. Debated putting this here or in "Owned" cause Rob def got owned.

The first log is what started it all.

*************************************************************
A faint buzzing sound begins to creep through the room. No, not buzzing, a deeper sound, like the sound of sawing wood.

You open your mouth but say nothing.

You say to Mjoll, "Did you hear that?"

You crease your brow in a frown.

Mjoll nods her head at you.

You say to a conscripted Spirean soldier, "Any ideas on where that's coming from?"

Commander "Foehammer" Mjoll Vilandra-Seirath smiles impishly and says, "Snoring Dragon, maybe."

Ahlysaaria ponders the situation.

Ahlysaaria says, "Like a woodcutter."

The noise increases in decibel, intermittently sounding out throughout the room, then pausing, then sounding out again.

A conscripted Spirean soldier does not react to your question, on the contrary, she remains absolutely still - leaning back against a nearby post, chin tucked down against her chest.

Mjoll gives a trillingly melodic laugh.

"Hmph!" you snort.

Commander "Foehammer" Mjoll Vilandra-Seirath says, "That's too damned good."

You have emoted: Robyn cuts her eyes at a conscripted Spirean soldier, brow furrowed with annoyance. "It might actually be worth biting you just for that alone."

You wrinkle your nose and sniff.

Mjoll snickers under her breath.

The sound - is that snoring? - comes out again, louder, as if suddenly interrupted, before taking back up against at an even pace. By all accounts, it appears to be coming from a conscripted Spirean solder.

Commander "Foehammer" Mjoll Vilandra-Seirath says, "Tickle her nose, see if she slaps herself."

Ahlysaaria looks towards the guard. "Ah, they are snoring?" Asks as she looks up, adjusting her glasses.

You have emoted: Robyn stomps over to a conscripted Spirean soldier, gets right in a conscripted Spirean soldier's face and hollers, "Wake up you lazy sluggard! We're not paying you to sleep on the Gates!"

You thwap a conscripted Spirean soldier on the head.

You have emoted: Robyn turns her head to look back at Mjoll, "Rather hoping she bites her damned tongue if I startle her enough!"

A conscripted Spirean soldier jumps, no -LEAPS- into the air as you yells into her face. The fright immediately elicits the fabled 'fight or flight' mentality so often heard about - and this guardswoman chooses FIGHT. Without hesitation - without even really seeing you, she cocks back an arm and looses a crippling haymaker, the blow connecting to the side of you head.

A conscripted Spirean soldier seems to realize who exactly she's hitting just as the blow connects, and her mouth immediately falls open into shocked 'o'

You have emoted: With a yelp as the fist connects Robyn turns her head and spits out blood. Reaching up she wipes her mouth before turning irate amber eyes back to a conscripted Spirean soldier. "I am going to bite you. I swear I am!" She hisses out past her swollen lip.

Ahlysaaria adjusts her glasses with a thoughtful frown at the guard.

Mjoll's face has shifted to absolute amusement, "Ut oh!"

"Bu-bu-General!" a conscripted Spirean soldier nearly whimpers, trying in vain to move backward, both hands up before her. It does not seem to cross her mind that nothing is behind her but the wall that she was just sleeping against only moments ago. "T'was an accident! An accident! You scared me, General!" She pleads for a few moments more all while her comrades watch on in marked amusement.


Simply, Ahlysaaria says, "You did yell, to be fair."

Darkly, you say to Ahlysaaria, "Next time I'll just shoot an arrow in her butt."

Weakly, a conscripted Spirean soldier says, "Makes you look fierce, tha' blow does. Fierce! Strong!"

Commander "Foehammer" Mjoll Vilandra-Seirath says to you, "Don't chomp too hard, am headed to rest."

The corners of Mjoll's mouth turn up as she grins mischievously.

Mjoll shrieks with gleeful laughter. "

Hmph!" you snort.

Eyes scanning the area for trouble, a conscripted Spirean soldier strides in with a clank of heavy plate armour.

Tartly, you say to a conscripted Spirean soldier, "Which would be a bald-faced lie. I'm about as fierce as.....well I dunno what, but something that isn't fierce. It makes me look like an idiot."
************************************************************************

And then this happened!

*************************************************************************

With an impish grin, you say to Mjoll, "Decided I'd be me without shedding for a little bit."

A conscripted Spirean soldier holds out both arms to either side, awaiting her own affectionate
glomp or bearhug.

Mjoll ponders the situation.

Mjoll runs up to a conscripted Spirean soldier and wraps her arms around her in an affectionate
glomp.

Mjoll nods her head sagely.

You have emoted: Robyn's eyes narrow into a glare as she turns her eyes towards A conscripted Spirean guard, "Are you the one that punched me the other day? You look REMARKABLY familiar."

Commander "Foehammer" Mjoll Vilandra-Seirath says, "Ut oh."

A conscripted Spirean soldier accepts the affectionate show before turning back to one of the other guards beside her. "Told you - I'm irresistible. Pay up." She arches her head back to glance innocently towards you. "I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about," she states airily.

You say to a conscripted Spirean soldier, "Orly? Cause I recognize You."

A Spirean Sciomancer grumbles under his breath as he shakes a few coins loose from the pockets of his long, black robes. "Bloody woman, that's why it worked." Regardless, he hands over the payment with nothing more than a few more disgruntled mutterings.

Mjoll cackles hellishly.

"Orly?" a conscripted Spirean soldier asks, confused. "That's not my name, dear friend-I've-never-laid-a-hand-upon." She shakes the coins now in her possession, allowing the chinking of metal to further widen the smile on her face. "Ah, sweet victory."

Mjoll slowly starts to back away from a conscripted Spirean soldier, making no sudden movements.

Swara arrives from the southeast.
She is followed by a black mezilkree.

You slip away successfully and evade your pursuers.

You use Shapeshifting Mutate.
A low, bestial growl rumbles in the back of your throat as an intense, primal rage overtakes you. Your muscles grow taut, causing you to double over as they stretch and snap beneath your skin, reforming thicker and more powerful than before. A thick pelt of fur grows rapidly over your frame, obscuring your flesh as your body continues shifting, your face elongating into a lupine muzzle, your teeth sharpening into deadly fangs, a tail growing out of your spine, and your hands and feet condensing into sharply clawed paws. As the transformation completes, you give your body a vigorous shake, letting out a bone-chilling howl as you assume the form of a werewolf.
Your active class has been switched to Shapeshifter.
|
South
The Inner Gate of Spinesreach. (road)

--- The Inner Gate of Spinesreach 0:-8:0 ---
A black marble pedestal has been knocked over, cracking the bowl that once rested upon it. The Inner
Gate of Spinesreach looms high overhead here. Suspended from a venantium hoop, a windchime of nacreous black crystal hangs here. A veranda has been constructed here, providing welcome shade to those in need of it. Glancing around with an amiable air, a medium-sized, dark blue taerilan is nearby. A wooden chest is here, carved to mimic the Spires of Spinesreach. A pike with the decapitated head of Talonnb has been erected. Carved from ice, a sculpture of a wolf rests here on its frozen haunches, regally surveying all who pass by. A tall banner dangles from a thick wooden pole here, carrying the colors of green, yellow, and white. Flies hover around a disease-ridden direwolf that prowls here. A sigil in the shape of a small, rectangular monolith is on the ground. A two-toned hammock of red and white rope has been hung here. A spectral game attendant barely exists here. There are 3 conscripted Spirean soldiers here. There are 4 Spirean Sciomancers here. There are
2 Syssin Defenders here. There are 2 jherzan Archivists here. There are 3 Republican guards here. An elegant white letter is in danger of being soiled here. A headless corpse, devoid of identity, lies here. A festively-garbed boar sniffs at the ground here. There are 2 white warhounds here. A ghostly white warhound stands here, silently watching. Ward Conjurer Swara, the Trash Panda is here. Commander "Foehammer" Mjoll Vilandra-Seirath is here. She wields a blackened warhammer in her hands. Kandara Sor'Tirivan is here, covered in translucent scales. She wields a heavy ilmenite fishing rod in her left hand. The air crackles softly here, as if the element responds to every rancid breath that sweeps by the gate from the Dragon Spire above.
You see exits leading north, east, southeast, west, and down.
[HINT]: A Spirean Sciomancer seems particularly alert.
[HINT]: A conscripted Spirean soldier seems particularly alert.

Swara inclines her head politely to those around her.

Liarra enters from the southeast, riding a massive twin-tailed demon cat.
She is followed by an undead minion.
From beneath his hood, a Syssin Defender's gaze follows Liarra.

Swara inclines her head politely to those around her.

Liarra Nehekhara smiles with a wink and says to a Spirean Sciomancer, "You know, I'd love to learn some of your skills."

You have emoted: Robyn pads over to a conscripted Spirean soldier squats and pees right on a conscripted Spirean soldier 's boots.

You wrinkle your nose and sniff.

Sweetly, you say, in a feral tongue, "Oooops."

A Spirean Sciomancer emits an audible gulp, then looks to his left and right - trying to make
absolutely sure that this woman is indeed talking to him. "I uh... Dn-..t rea..y..mnff..." He trails off, the words ultimately getting caught in his throat then fading away.

Swara blinks.

Ward Conjurer Swara, the Trash Panda says to you, "Why on Sapience did you do that?"

Swara glances down at her feet then back up at you.

Solemnly, you say to Swara, in a feral tongue, "Having some trouble adjusting to being a wolf sometimes. The INSTINCTS just overwhelm me at times."

You nod your head sagely.

Liarra grins wide and mischievously, walking up to a Spirean Sciomancer and stopping awfully close. She leans in, "Hmmm?"

Bulrok jumps off his horse, securing his weapon quickly as he makes his way towards Swara and planting a quick kiss on her cheek.

Swara raises an eyebrow at you and takes a couple steps back. "Mhm, just uh... make sure you aim well and don't uh... mark me please?" she says with some skepticism before looking toward Bulrok and giving him a gentle peck on the cheek in return.

You have emoted: Robyn pads back over to Mjoll and sits gracefully, wrapping her tail around herself neatly to avoid it being stepped on. "And apparently." She continues, "If someone punches me my lupine instincts tell me to pee on them."

You wrinkle your nose and sniff.

The ancient, silver runes etched into Mjoll's flesh give off a sudden, sharp pulse of light before receding back into a slow, rhythmic beat.

Ward Conjurer Swara, the Trash Panda asks you, "Why did you get punched?"

A conscripted Spirean soldier only stands there while it happens. And watches. Seething. "You think that was a good plan there, General?" she asks in a low, deadly voice. She momentarily breaks her stare to cast a sharp glance and sharper words to Liarra. "He's scared of women he doesn't know, for your information. And still lives with his mother to boot." That said, her focus returns to you.

You have emoted: Twisting around to briefly chew at her side Robyn licks the ruffled fur back into place before turning her attention back to Swara, "Cause dorkus over there fell asleep on duty, I yelled to wake her up and she punched me."

A Spirean Sciomancer squirms with embarrassment as his fellow guard speaks. "O..ly th pr..ty ..es.." he mumbles under his breath, still refusing to meet Liarra's eyes.

Bulrok utters a deep, rumbling laugh.

Liarra throws her head back and emits a hellish laugh. Her eyes glinting dangerous, she drapes her arms around a Spirean Sciomancer and nestles in close, "Scared?" She murmurs.

Running in from the southeast comes an older Syssin guard.

Swara quirks an eyebrow at a conscripted Spirean soldier, "Something been going on with you lately? You need a leave of absence or something?" she asks, an amount of concern in her voice as she leans against Bulrok, casting a momentary glance toward Liarra's antics.

A conscripted Spirean soldier swaggers up to you, oozing confidence and anger both - harnessing them. "You think you folks can just COME IN HERE and harass us when you feel like it, GENERAL?" she calls out loudly, dramatically so. "Think we just sit here all day GUARDING YOUR BUTTS and TAKING YOUR ABUSE?" Her words begin to draw the eyes of the various guards also situated around the area - and none of them look too happy.

Shouting now, a conscripted Spirean soldier says, "Think you can just walk in here and PEE ON MY BOOTS?"

Casually, Liarra Nehekhara says, "Maybe you should pee on her. You know, show dominance?"

Ward Conjurer Swara, the Trash Panda says, "Says the guard who throws rocks at people."

Liarra nods toward you.

You have emoted: Leaning against Mjoll's leg as she eyes a conscripted Spirean soldier Robyn cocks an eyebrow at a conscripted Spirean soldier, "Don't punch me and I won't ruin your boots."

Bulrok starts to raise his voice in objection to Liarra's suggestion before stopping quickly,
electing to wrap an arm around Swara instead. "I suppose that's a good idea, too."

More and more guards seem to appear, lingering closely along the outer rim of the commotion. There's a tension in the air, palpable.

Liarra narrows her eyes to thin slits.

Bulrok casts a suspicious eye about the area.

Ser Bulrok murmurs something softly to Swara.

Ward Conjurer Swara, the Trash Panda says to Bulrok, "I will do more than punch you if you pee on me."

You cackle hellishly.

Liarra squeezes a Spirean Sciomancer tightly, as if holding them hostage.

Ser Bulrok says, "I would never.."

Kandara peers around as she huffs under her breath. "Damn guards."

"Don't play with other people's emotions, SWARA," a conscripted Spirean soldier calls out in
response. She sniffs audibly. "You got rocked because you scared me awake - quite rudely, I might mention." She studies you for a few long seconds. "Pretty fur you have there, General. Lookin' a bit long, though." Her voice rises up now. "WHAT DO YOU THINK, BOYS?"

Liarra Nehekhara says to a conscripted Spirean soldier, "Careful."

Swara gives a pained sigh.

Ward Conjurer Swara, the Trash Panda says, "These guards do get paid, right?"

You have emoted: Robyn's eyes narrow into slits as a low growl rumbles up from her chest, "Touch my fur and I'll do something far worse than pee on your boots. I know the treasurer and I'll make sure your pay gets docked for falling asleep on duty."

Loud calls of, "Yeah!" and "PEED ON HER BOOTS?" all ring out across the area, chased by a final, "SHAVE HER BALD!" from someone in the back.

Liarra tights her hold on a Spirean Sciomancer, perhaps painfully so now.

Ser Bulrok says, "Voltda."

Kandara grumbles before wandering off to sit next to one of the syssin defenders.

A conscripted Spirean soldier swaggers closer to you. "Nah, boys - not BALD. Just a quick trim, eh?" There's a small knife in her hand now, its edge honed to a razor. "HOLD HER DOWN FOR ME, BOYS!" As the words are uttered, dozens of guards all surge forward. They quickly grab a hold of you - gently, of course, she -Is- the General - securing her tightly. All the while, the offended guardswoman merely watches, a satisfied smile growing on her lips.

A Spirean Sciomancer doesn't actually manage to surge forward, perhaps due to the tight grip Liarra currently holds on him. He seems unable to speak, very nearly on the edge of hyperventilating now.

"Hey wait!" Mjoll protests, nearly being trampled by the horde of guards.

Liarra is a bit shocked for a moment, but her hand swiftly snaps up to a Spirean Sciomancer throat and clenches with nails bared. She hisses as warning, those pointed fangs flashing.

You have emoted: As all the guards grab hold Robyn snaps at anything her teeth can reach- which isn't much. Twisting and turning her head this way and that terrible growls eventually die down to whines and yips of distress until she ends up sounding like a pissed off puppy. "YOU'RE ALL FIRED!!!!" She finally hollers, "Bunch of iddgits the lot of you!" She bellows out amidst the yelps and whines of distress.

Swara mouth falls open in surprise and then she urgently looks about the ground, scrambling up a few pebbles. Rolling one over in her fingers, she chucks one toward the back of a conscripted Spirean soldier 's head.

Bulrok unphases behind Swara, blinking in surprise as he stares at the scene.

A jherzan Archivist rubs her arms briskly and marches in place. She mutters imprecations about Spirean cold under her breath before going still once more.

"Don't worry, we won't hurt her!" a conscripted Spirean soldier calls out over the raucous din of shouts and jeers. She herself disappears into the throng currently holding you down in their center, the knife still held tight in her hands. A few long moments pass, and she finally reappears. "Alright boys, - let her up!" The guards all vacate quickly, moving back towards the outer edge of the area, leaving you left standing alone.

You have emoted: Regaining her feet quickly Robyn raises her lip at a conscripted Spirean soldier, growling menacingly. Shaking herself to get her fur all aligned properly she turns her back on the guard and heads back over to Mjoll, "Just you wait." She promises. "Imma come up with something worse than your boots next time you fall asleep on duty. Like using your butt for a dartboard."

You feel the sudden urge to look at Robyn, in all her newly-shaved glory.

Kandara grunts noncommittally.

She is an agile Azudim werewolf of Tsol'aa heritage. Two and a half feet tall at the shoulder she has long golden fur that speaks to her health. Delicate ears, soft as a well-worked calf's leather, gradually change color from the base to the tip ending in a fiery red. Amber, almond-shaped eyes outlined in black gleam with luminosity when open while ridiculously long black eyelashes create fans on her cheeks when closed. Her muzzle, like her ears, shows a gradient of color deepening to a robust red around her black, cold, wet nose. The golden fur on her tail is thicker and longer than that on her body as the tail itself curls up into a jaunty flag. Though smaller than most wolves- almost dainty- she is perfectly proportioned, athletic and elegant. One entire side of her body has been shaved bare, except for the letters 'LOSR', which has been left long and luxurious. The other side is something else entirely, resembling perhaps a vulgar hand gesture, though it's too crudely done to be sure. Translucent strands of spiderweb periodically weave around her form, empowering her
with Iosyne's blessing.

(worn on a finger) : a soft purple obsidian ring
(worn on a finger) : a ring of delicate silver leaves
(worn on the back) : a wyrmskin pack
(worn on a finger) : a soot-black obsidian ring
(worn on the ears) : 2 waves of shadow ring
(worn on the belt) : a secure brass keyring
(around one wrist) : a Vilandra crest cuff bracelet
(worn) : a bow of the Hunt
(worn on the hands) : a Celestine ornate venantium-chased gauntlet
(worn upon the forearm) : an argent armband of oaths
(worn on the legs) : trousers of supple gray leather
(covering the torso) : a durable leather shirt
(around the neck) : a green crystal amulet
(around the neck) : a red crystal amulet
(worn) : a Celestine devastating dextrous mighty hardy enhanc..

Swara licks her lips.

Ward Conjurer Swara, the Trash Panda says, "Welp."

Axius grunts noncommittally.

Ward Conjurer Swara, the Trash Panda says, "Someone is probably getting fired."

A conscripted Spirean soldier begins strutting away, already calling over her shoulder, "Bring it on, General." With that, she departs, the various guards all returning to their duties.

Mjoll nods her head sagely.

With a quick glance about her surroundings, a conscripted Spirean soldier strides confidently to the north.

Swara inspects her surroundings and expresses her opinion with an unimpressed "tch."

Cabalist Axius Sor'Tirivan says, "...I miss something?"

Axius peers about herself suspiciously.

Liarra releases a Spirean Sciomancer so violently that she may as well have thrown them to the ground.

"Hmph!" you snort.