Meeting the Malevolent

Malcanthet

So, as little miss muffet sat on her tuffet, along came a Spider to sit down beside her >.> (I couldn't help myself, really...)



A cavernous ossuary (62599) - The Havens (Unmapped)
Colours swirl and shift all about you in the void. Etched with daemonic imagery,
a large mirror hangs upon the wall here. A massive pile of crimson velvet
cushions offers an inviting seat. Last expression one of exquisite pain, the
body that was Malcanthet is displayed here. A candelabra with glowing emberite
flames juts from the wall, casting a faint glow over the cavernous room. An
emerald octagon-shaped area rug covers a majority of the frigid stone floor. A
brilliant duskcrystal bird inside a birdcage sits here. A massive golem made of
clay stands here. The monstrous half-woman, half-spider form of Iosyne, the
Malevolent is here.
There are no obvious exits.

A black whip of shadow energy snakes into the room, slithering up into a
corkscrew shape and falling away to reveal the form of Iosyne.

"I like what you've done with the place," Iosyne muses as She materializes,
sightless eyes finding the sprawled corpse.

You blink.

You clear your throat.

You bow respectfully to Iosyne.

Without looking up, you say, "My thanks, Malevolent One."

With a wry twist of lips, you say, "It's amusing to look at your own corpse, or
at least I find it so."

Glancing up once, reverently, to better memorise Your formidable Self, you say,
"To what do I owe the honour, my Lady?"

The sprawled corpse rises grotesquely, attempting to mirror your movements;
severed muscles and damaged nerves result in a jerky, uneven bow.

You have emoted: Malcanthet glances over at ... 'herself' as the twisted remains
animate and dip into a bow much like the one she's just executed - though
arguably more dramatic.

look iosyne
She is an Immortal of massive proportions, a half-woman, half-spider monstrosity
of terrifying shape. The sharp, angular features of Her face are hardened into a
cruel countenance, Her sightless gaze naught but narrowed white orbs lacking
their pupil. A haze of creeping shadows partially swathes Her form, surrounding
Her like a heavy fog, and partially melding with the wild mane of
crimson-streaked black hair cascading from Her shoulders. Whipcord muscles
beneath sleek ebony skin suit Her monstrous form well; where Her humanoid waist
ends, an arachnid thorax begins and continues into a bulbous black abdomen
splattered with red blots. Eight segmented, spindly legs carry this body aptly
and swiftly, dexterous appendages capable of moving in any direction with
frightening speed.

(hanging to one side) : a pulsing heart hanging by a brass
chain
(at the back of the neck) : a black-inked tattoo of a pair of
crossed fists
(covering the torso) : a molded plate chestpiece

Iosyne stretches a hand forward, sharpened nails tucking under the corpse's
downturned chin, the dead body's gaze cast at the ground similar to your
originally. A sharp nail finds the bottom of the chin, jerking it upwards -
broken flesh gives way under the gesture, the Malevolent's finger sinking
through the head with a muted squirt of blood. The arachnid Goddess tilts the
head upwards like a fingerpuppet. "Mine do not avert their gazes, Congregant."

You have emoted: Were she alive, Malcanthet might be sweating at this point, the
telltale twitching of her tail and restless rustle of the wings at her back
instead betraying her nerves. Her head snaps back at Your words almost as
quickly as the corpse's own, and venom-green eyes rise slowly to Yours. "Of
course, my Lady. Apologies for not being prepared to receive You... I would have
blood, warm, or wine, if either Your preference".

You have emoted: Malcanthet's lips twitch into a dark smile.

Iosyne's sightless eyes lift from the corpse, settling upon the real you. Her
finger, still impaling the corpse, bobs up-and-dow, the body bobbing its head in
a gruesome nod. "Nonsense. All your lovely gifts, I am the one who owes you some
hospitality."

A bit of fang slipping into her smile as it widens, you say, "I had hoped You
would receive them well. They are not corpses, but perhaps a next best thing? I
enjoy the collecting and shaping of gems and metals."

You have emoted: Straightening her shoulders a bit, even though the weight of
Your Sightless gaze rests heavily there, Malcanthet adds, "You are an
inspiration, Malevolent One."

Iosyne finally allows the corpse to slide off Her finger, the Goddess bringing
the bloodstained nail before Her face. Her tongue flits out, lapping up its
crimson staining before sliding one of your gift rings upon it. She studies the
jewelry, head tilted to one side, before turning a fang-filled smile to you -
you notice drops of blood still sliding down a few rows of teeth.

Iosyne puts on a blood garnet ring cut into jagged facets.

Iosyne gives a token of the Malevolent's esteem to you.

Iosyne, the Malevolent says, "A token of My appreciation. You may ask some boon
of Me with it."

You have emoted: The look of faint amusement as she watches her corpse slide to
the floor quickly replaced with bemusement, Malcanthet turns back to You in
amazement.

You say to Iosyne, "That is truly generous my Lady, thank You."

You chew thoughtfully on your lip.

p token
This small token is the size of a palm, and disc-shaped, like an oversized
currency. Carved upon it is the form of a spider, each of its eight legs curling
towards the outer edges of the token. When flipped over, the shape carved into
its reverse side is that of a four-armed woman, her pose martial and poetic.
It has 10 weeks of usefulness left.
It weighs 1 ounce(s).

Inclining her head, though mindful to keep her gaze ever upon You, you say, in
Chiav, "It is an honour to kill and craft for You."

Iosyne's smile widens, revealing uncountable rows of jagged teeth in varying
sizes. She scuttles across the room, coming to a rest directly in front of you,
hand cupping your chin fondly. "Carry on," She answers in the same dialect of
arachnoid clicks.

Iosyne warps out of perception, Her monstrous form separating into inky threads
of shadow which slither away in different directions.

An uncomfortable presence fills the atmosphere, the skies tinting red as the
blessing of the Malevolent empowers the faithful Congregation of Iosyne, the
Malevolent.

Glancing at the pile of rotting flesh that is her corpse, you say, in Chiav,
"Well, you were the star of the party."

You have emoted: Malcanthet nudges her corpse with a toe and laughs to herself.