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What's this? A dagger between the eyes!
Summary: Over the past few weeks, Elene had been holding onto the gleaming silver knife that exchanged hands from Mati to Saidenn, and finally to the Archivium for keeping. Before that, the Archivists had already deduced that the artifact is not a parasitic entity but simply a communication tool, used by the cultists behind these mysterious workings to manipulate and achieve some conditions. As more about the mysterious 'K' found itself revealed in Enorian to be 'Khepri', @Alela took to the boards in proclamation that she is Khepri-as-Mortal. The cultists took offense to this, and subsequently forced Reggie, a stable boy, post upon the boards, that they would take the lives of three citizens, finally taking her life last.
I didn't expect much to develop of it, but I only started capturing the log after it looked like it was going somewhere, so here's the rest of the story. Alarmed by the progression, Elene took to the Bloodloch city medium, asking upon the details of the stable boy, whom she was told by Kaiara, perished after he fell off a cliff. She went chasing a lead in the Chaos Plane, but then noticed as she was there that...
@Qelres has discovered a dagger lodged between their eyes at the hands of a black-robed figure.
Soon after, Elene spoke of caution to the city, encouraging individuals to stay in pairs so that the cultist may either be prevented from their success of a kill, or discourage it. Everyone started to gather at Bloodloch West Gate. However...
(Bloodloch): A black-robed figure says, "Two more will perish for Alela's blasphemy. Pairs will make it easier to accomplish this task. Pity."
You shout, "You proclaim that pairs will make it easier for you to kill us. Now we have gathered into a group, awaiting for your strike. Come, what are you afraid of now?"
There's a shuffling of feet behind you that's accompanied by the whisper of rustling cloth as the footsteps move. Although the sound is only audible for but fractions of a moment, what happens next seems horrifically drawn-out: a gleaming silver dagger is gruesomely plunged square between your eyes, its vicious blade parting your flesh and skull like butter with the impact. Your world begins to blur at the edges as the blade's fatal strike brings its hilt clean through to the bridge of your nose; the last thing you see before falling to the ground in a tattered heap is a figure dressed in voluminous black robes holding that very blade in their mottled hands.
You have been slain by a black-robed figure.
Others in the room saw:
There's a shuffling of feet behind Elene that's accompanied by the whisper of rustling cloth as the footsteps move. What happens next is a blur: a figure bedecked in voluminous black robes withdraws a gleaming silver dagger and plunges it square between Elene's eyes. The blade is driven so far through that its hilt then rests upon the bridge of her nose. With a gruesome withdrawal that sends specks of blood coating your surroundings, the robed figure withdraws the blade and vanishes abruptly from sight, leaving only the still-twitching corpse of Elene behind.
[[Subsequently, when Elene resurrected and came back from the Underhalls, the first thing she remembered was that the dagger that was used, was interestingly, very similar to the one she had in her hands.]]
The knife on your person grows warm to the touch as a voice curls through the back of your mind:
'They would scatter in panic with but a single slice of my blade, you know - you'd need but angle me towards them, and I could do the rest.'
The knife on your person grows warm to the touch as a voice curls through the back of your mind:
'Like insects, gathered around you. They are an unworthy audience for one such as yourself and I. You could strike them down effortlessly, and what a glorious sight that would be. Do it.'
The knife on your person grows warm to the touch as a voice curls through the back of your mind:
'You are capable of such marvelous things. If only they were not standing in your way. You could change that.'
The knife on your person grows warm to the touch as a voice curls through the back of your mind:
'Imagine what the two of us could do together, you and I.'
[[Somewhere as this happened, Menelaus left the now-sizeable group at West Gate. The moment he stepped out, however..]]
@Menelaus has discovered a dagger lodged between their eyes at the hands of a black-robed figure.
You see Alela raise her voice and shout, "HE'S NOT EVEN ONE OF OURS."
A black-robed figure shouts, "He was tainted by your vicinity. We will see you soon."
[[So, Elene started to wonder, if it's something she can utilise to substitute the final death Alela earned under the hands of the cultist, in a bid to find out who or what she's dealing with. Therefore, she started to draw Alela to her, grabbing her as if to kill her. The log continues from here.]]
You have emoted: It's an odd, almost discerning gleam that skitters across her features, and Elene digs a gleaming silver knife deeper into Alela's head, but there's no easy slide of blade into her flesh. It's almost as if there is resistance, not the smooth slice of butter that a dagger in her own head felt like. An inhalation of breath, and an exhalation as she address a gleaming silver knife: "You wanted me to kill those who would stand in my way, didn't you?"
The voice stirs in the back of your mind as if stretching, a level of languidness discernible in its presence. "Do it," it lazily retorts, as if a challenge.
Alela tilts her head side to side, screwing the blade's tip into her flesh. "Am I in your way? AM I IN YOUR WAY?" Her excitement is reaching a fevered pitch, and she reaches up to grab your wrist with both her hands, pulling the knife into her own forehead. Eyes stare wide and wild, unblinking, and teeth glare from between her spread lips.
Viceroy Menelaus Nehekhara says to you, "Did you notice there was some thing off about the culprit's hands?"
Menelaus seems to simply ignore Alela as he speaks calmly and mirthfully towards you.
You have emoted: "Do it?" Elene laughs softly. There's a soft caress of Alela's hair, before her hand shifts into a fist, tugging her head in that motion. The woman wrestles with the strength in her arm, and she jerks her head up, staring at Menelaus. "Mottled hands." There's a pause after her response, and then the woman appears to have a spark of inspiration.
[[Movement.]]
Alela and Maira follow you to the southeast.
Bloody precipice.
Resting on the ground is a cube-shaped silver sigil. A sigil in the shape of a small, rectangular monolith is on the ground. There are 6 wooden buckets here. There are 10 corpses of a carrion beetle here.
You see exits leading east (closed pine door) and northwest.
Menelaus arrives from the northwest.
Chaplain Alela Arcan, Khepri-As-Mortal says, "Good thinking. Waste not."
Alela nods her head sagely.
"Ah!" Menelaus says to a wooden bucket, comprehension flashing across his face.
You have emoted: It's the bloody precipice that she shifts towards, Elene pulling Alela along with her hair as she bodily throws her onto the sticky slab. The woman follows soon after, climbing atop of Alela as the hand on her hair shifts, pressing down upon her throat as she attempts to hold the woman still. Still talking to a gleaming silver knife, she whispers, "The jugular or the head? Does it matter? How do you want me to do it, a simple point like you did to me?"
"Behead her," the voice retorts now, its languidness shaking off as the blade is angled. "Yes, yes, that would be.. quite the display."
Gleaming silver makes up the vast majority of this carefully-crafted knife, its blade meticulously sharpened to a wicked edge. A jagged arrow has been inscribed along the length of its blade, the arrow's apex left to point in tandem with the tip of the weapon were it to be pointed any particular way. Resting at the very bottom of this inscribed arrow is an intricately-imprinted K that curls at its edges.
[HINT]: Pointing the knife at a target would point the arrow by extension at the target as well.
It weighs about 1 kilo(s) and 134 gram(s).
You sent the following message to Saidenn:
If I kill with the blade, I apologise in advance, kef.
You suddenly feel a tugging from a repulsive anklet of canine teeth trophies, as its paired item pulls towards it.
Alela smashes down onto the slab. Once there, she wriggles slightly - not to get away, apparently, because she appears satisfied when she's properly aligned over the channels and troughs. Her wild expression hasn't faded in the slightest in all this.
The vague image of a pectoral of concentric golden rings appears in the air, before Saidenn appears in a flash
of magic.
Emotions come roaring into her, the repression or inundation of all that she has felt in the past month surging past barriers, and now focused upon the knife. There is only the intent to kill, to behead, to draw blood and allow the feast to happen.
Alela sits down.
Menelaus seems slightly startled as Saidenn magically enters but quickly regains composure and nods in greeting towards Saidenn. "Chair." He murmurs in a low voice.
Saidenn takes a moment to blink when he arrives in a surge of magic. "Elene." His rumble rises in an even, but gentle volume toward you. He steps closer toward you, attempting to reach a paw out to rest against your arm.
Alela twists her head to look up at Saidenn, unmindful of the gash the blade opens in her face. "Piss off, CAT," she hisses, "This is just getting fun!"
You have emoted: There's a development in the instability of her heterochromatic gaze. It deeps, twists, and darkens. Elene has no care for anyone else in the precipice, merely the squirming figure that lies upon the slab, prone before her: Alela. She raises a gleaming silver knife up high, the edge gleaming brightly, before it comes whistling down, aimed at the side of her neck. The blade is angled, intending to incise through the side of the neck in a merciless tug. She feels a press of a paw against her upraised arm, and it wavers only slightly, but the woman surges onwards, seeking a gruesome beheading.
Alela grins at the slicing blade - and laughs.
Tension peaks in the voice that curls through your mind, the space it occupies growing. "Do the job, do it so that you may discover the secrets you seek," it hurriedly whispers.
"Kill her. Saw it off. Let her bleed."
Menelaus hardly seems to notice Mileta enter as the blood begins to flow, his crimson eyes lighting up in the gloom of the cavern.
Saidenn feels the pressure and intent behind the swing of the silver knife. The crazed instability within your eyes gets his attention. He growls toward Alela, especially at the chosen address, but his attention more focuses upon the knife. The emeralds upon a pectoral of concentric golden rings flicker toward Ef'tig and Rafic as he focuses on something unseen, attempting to trace any connection between the knife in your grasp and... something else. It is clear that stopping the death is no longer his primary concern, but instead tracing the duality, his free paw reaching outward as if to close about strings.
Saidenn just thought:
Ef'tig. A connection. What is within and without. Rafic, the point, the location. The place. Give me something.
You have emoted: "Secrets. Secrets, secrets," Elene murmurs, the words falling from her ichored lips as she continues on with her task. A soft moan emanates from the woman as her silvery tresses fall upon Alela's features, the woman ripping a gleaming silver knife across her neck in a gruesome tug, the keen edge slicing through the jugular, allowing a soft spray of blood to flicker across her features. "Shut up, Alela. At least be worth something in your death." Her other hand continues to exert pressure upon Alela's neck, cutting off any further attempts to laugh, or to speak.
Mileta arrives from the northwest.
Menelaus focuses on the physical and not so physical struggle unfolding about him, trying to take in every detail he can. His eyes sweep the room, and he then notices Mileta and moves towards Mileta, staying at Mileta's side for the time being. His attention then returns to Alela's sweet sweet Blood spraying this way and that, elegantly.
Mileta gracefully hops off of a three-headed direwolf.
Mileta quickly hops off of a three-headed direwolf coming to a quick silent crouch planting the butt of her bardiche against the floor as her trio of heads gaze at the scene unfold. Feline tails swaying chaotically, only the scorpion one remaining still and quiet.
Alela manages something like a cackle - defiant, dull, and gurgling.
"Die. DIE. DIE. Bleed and become nothing. Who is to stop me? Who dares?" She's without caring, and the woman finds herself consumed by the task. Behead. Make it painful. Make it worthwhile.
"There you are darling," the voice croons. The scent of blood is nearly intoxicating as it spills out, alighting your senses. "Finish her. Do it. End her. KILL her."
Legyn arrives from the northwest.
Saidenn slides his paw upward and around the back of your neck, curling down upon flesh and letting claws sink
inward. He lets out a growl of frustration - not at the death - but at something else. He curls more tightly about the strings, pulling and tugging, trying to trace back from knife to its source. "Give me /something/." He rumbles aloud, closing his eyes, his nose twitching at the scent of blood. Ef'tig glows, Rafic, now Jherza. An electric current ripples around him as he focuses more succinctly, trying to trace any thread through.
"Don't you wish to know our secrets? They will spill from her throat you know. They will wash over you as her blood does, each droplet bringing with it another ounce of knowledge."
Saidenn just thought:
I know you are out there. Inside her head, a ringing bell. But I know there is nothing in that damnable knife. Give me them. Give me someone. Give me /anything/.
Cognoscente Legyn, Sophist of Ef'tig says, "Does anyone know if Elene is part of the Bloodlochian Kingslayer orb?"
El-kef, Mileta Tae'Daenir says to Legyn, "Carnifex and Tyrant."
Pondering an Archivist's leather book entitled, "Principles and Procedures - Revised Arios 490 MA" for a
moment, a sudden flash of recognition flashes across the face of Menelaus as he says, "I don't quite get it but..." pausing a moment before heading to the edge of the stone slab with mystical speed and placing his hand against the knife, it sinking into his hand, but it stops the knife from moving further into Alela's neck.
You have emoted: As if spurred by further words, Elene surges onwards, her moans of want escaping from her lips. Her grip tightens, and the woman presses down hard upon Alela's neck, holding her in place. "The last to die. The last to die." There's a soft cackle as she completes the task, ripping a gleaming silver knife through the rest of Alela's neck. She barely feels the claws that slide into her flesh, the pain that ripples down her frame as Saidenn's claws sink into her, the soft manipulation of Numerology running through her body, eventually rooting within her head as the storm-hued transplanted eye - Saidenn's own - in her head serves as its anchoring point. The sensation that she feels is almost intoxicating, coming off of her in waves of pleasure. "I kill her for you. Give me my reward," she finally utters.
You use Weaponry Behead (start).
You raise a gleaming silver knife over your head and begin to swing it in a wide circle, gaining speed as you
go.
You use Weaponry Behead (mid) on Alela.
You use Weaponry Behead (end) on Alela.
You have slain Alela.
The blood that surrounds you is all-encompassing, the splattering of it sending a surging rush of endorphins along every nerve and coursing through every vein simultaneously in a bombardment of feelings that could at minimum be described as utterly euphoric. Your eyelids flutter as your eyes roll into the back of your head, your body quivering with this rush of emotions. Happiness, relief, excitement - all of this and more strikes at every receptor you have, stirring through your body like a persistent static that clings to you inside and out.
Cognoscente Legyn, Sophist of Ef'tig says, "What kind of reward is Alela worth anyway?"
Menelaus picks up the severed upper part of his hand, no more than four fingers connected by a lump of flesh. He wills it and the open gaping wound to become mist, and then reform back into his hand, slowly but carefully.
Saidenn's ears twitch, the connection that lets him see through you in ways, as well as feel through you has him rumbling. He steps closer, moving his free paw down, now, attempting to curl his paw around the hand holding the knife, aiming to touch part of the metal if is he is able, even to the blade itself if necessary. "What reward?" He asks you directly. "Speak it." He continues pulling, threading, aiming to learn something. Frustrated at how little he is learning, he pushes deeper, attempting to feel and see all the more.
Legyn just thought:
I wonder if my life would be worth more than Alela's?
"You have done so very well," claws the voice into the back of your mind, struggling for a foothold against this overwhelming cacophony of roiling emotion. "But for now we part." Although the words linger in the back of your mind just ever-so-slightly out of reach compared to the sensory overload you now face, silence from that same now-familiar voice ensues after.
[[Alela comes back from death and returns to the precipice.]]
Alela lets loose a belting cackle. "Ahahahaha - good! Good." Her laughter dies down into a bit of a wheezing cough. "Y'know, Mother, you didn't have to be MEAN about it. The remark about my worth was really below the belt." She bends over to inspect her decapitated head and corpse with a satisfied smirk. "Good. Beautiful. Perfect."
You have emoted: Falling back from the slab in a manic relief, Elene's hand comes away with the head. The splatter of blood across her demure features only serve to highlight the heterochromia of her gaze as her eyelids flutter with the euphoria of the kill. Her chest rises and falls in a deep inhalations and exhalations, and her knife hand now strays away from her - except now she realises that the blade is missing. She finally opens her eyes, and the woman steadies herself, swaying upon the spot.
Emotions surge and coil in the raging landscape of her mind. The voice that claws itself into existence within her praises and adorns her with compliments. "You have done so very well," it says. "But for now we part." There's an aching emptiness there as the rush of emotions begin to ebb, the excitement, the happiness, the relief that once stirred her body like a persistent static.
The euphoria slowly begins to fade as you steady yourself, and with its departure comes the gradual awareness of what exactly surrounds you: blood - so very much blood, and the rancid scent that accompanies it. Everything around you appears to bear a slick film of it - that is of course save for the knife.
...It is gone.
No secrets. No whispered prophecies. Only blood and a profound emptiness are left in its wake.
Saidenn feels for the knife, and with it now gone, he blinks. He growls outwardly, angrily, his ears folding back with frustration and upset. He pulls back his touch from you, then, giving you some room to breathe as he flexes his paws, claws visible as his anger at the disappearance of the knife raging through him. He takes several pads away, attempting to focus upon the memory of it, the feel of it, the shape and heft. His anger makes the focus all the more difficult in the moment.
Yet in the overload of sensations that came from the bloodbath, clarity begins to brim through. Part of it is shared with Saidenn, as connection surfaces through her eye to the Idreth. There is so very much blood, and there is the rancid scent of the flood. Everything is covered with a slick film of it, but the knife is gone. THE KNIFE IS GONE, AND THERE ARE NO SECRETS. THERE ARE NO WHISPERED PROPHECIES. THERE IS ONLY EMPTINESS.
You have emoted: Her voice rising in a panic, a sudden euphoria replaced by abrupt hysteria as Elene she slowly comes to herself. "You said you would give me secrets. You whispered that it would come from Alela's throat. YOU LIED. YOU LIED. WHERE DID YOU GO?!" comes her voice, the keening anger of the woman exploding as blood skitters off of her crimson frame, her silken tresses dripping sanguine. "How dare. HOW DARE YOU."
All the angst around Alela has no visible impact on her mood. Rather, she perches herself on the edge of the slab and folds her arms as she hums an airy dity. Her mother's outburst drowns out her music, but it elicits only a slight tilt of her head. Wordless, she stares.
@Legyn watches the raging you from a safe distance, frowning to himself. "So it had nothing to offer after all. Disappointing." He focuses his attention to the spray of blood that covers the blood.
<<Archivists>>: Saidenn says, "Did Akary or any of us leave an anchor upon the blade to track it or mark it?"
<<Archivists>>: You say, "I can't.. I can't remember if I did. I marked it with my blood. Once. In the Archive. By stabbing myself in the jugular. Akary was.. supposed to mark it with ectoplasm further this week."
<<Archivists>>: Saidenn says, "Try to trace it. Seek it. I marked it in blood once, as well, when I was checking how I may get it to work."
Alela just thought:
Honestly, is this a surprise?
"It would seem you've been hoodwinked," Alela finally says. "Pranked."
Legyn just thought:
The knife had nothing useful to offer, but I would still like to know how its creator was able to communicate with us.
Saidenn turns toward Alela, exhaling a growl, his anger still visible. "And it would seem you have shown that you are useless even as a sacrifice," He replies, looking toward Legyn and you. "I am going to try to follow threads as I am able," he says, his tail lashing behind him wildly, quickly, leaving the bells discordant in their chimes. With that, he starts to make his way toward exit.
You have emoted: Her chest heaves angrily, the emotions of the woman held at a trembling pitch of emotions. Everything is hued red. Everything is a crimson film, and it certainly is, the blood sprayed out from Alela's decapitation the root cause. Elene slams her empty fist down hard against the stony slab, again, and again, and again. Bone breaks, and the woman huffs out an exhalation. She turns upon her bare feet, crimson staining their soles in a jingling cacophony of bells and trinkets. She stalks towards Alela, as if sure that the answers lie within her. She says nothing, but her mood is a seething, palpable aura.
(Tells): Your voice echoing with haunting distortions, you speak to Saidenn, "I'm sorry, kef. I lost it. I thought it would reveal more. More traces of itself. Did you feel it? Did it trace? Did it help discern further purpose?" The woman is throwing words after words, struggling to focus. "How do we proceed?"
Whether fearless or simply disciplined, Alela doesn't shrink before your approach. She remains, in fact, rather languid - her stillness broken only momentarily to shoot Saidenn a smirk. Yet, she says nothing. Silent, with mocking laughter written on her features and blood soaking darkly into her clothing.
(Tells): Saidenn Tetzauh tells you, "It could have happened to any of us." He exhales a loud growl, his anger still palpable, albeit not directed toward the woman. "I am not able to feel it as much as I try. I am going to journey somewhere else. Perhaps I may bait a cultist into finding me."
Alela just thought:
What do I care if the cat's mad? He takes it out on me, but its his failure, not mine.
Alela just thought:
Poor, pathetic, impotent puss.
Saidenn Tetzauh says to Legyn, "Let me know if you find anything more."
Saidenn leaves to the northwest, riding a giant, black-furred wolf.
I didn't expect much to develop of it, but I only started capturing the log after it looked like it was going somewhere, so here's the rest of the story. Alarmed by the progression, Elene took to the Bloodloch city medium, asking upon the details of the stable boy, whom she was told by Kaiara, perished after he fell off a cliff. She went chasing a lead in the Chaos Plane, but then noticed as she was there that...
@Qelres has discovered a dagger lodged between their eyes at the hands of a black-robed figure.
Soon after, Elene spoke of caution to the city, encouraging individuals to stay in pairs so that the cultist may either be prevented from their success of a kill, or discourage it. Everyone started to gather at Bloodloch West Gate. However...
(Bloodloch): A black-robed figure says, "Two more will perish for Alela's blasphemy. Pairs will make it easier to accomplish this task. Pity."
You shout, "You proclaim that pairs will make it easier for you to kill us. Now we have gathered into a group, awaiting for your strike. Come, what are you afraid of now?"
There's a shuffling of feet behind you that's accompanied by the whisper of rustling cloth as the footsteps move. Although the sound is only audible for but fractions of a moment, what happens next seems horrifically drawn-out: a gleaming silver dagger is gruesomely plunged square between your eyes, its vicious blade parting your flesh and skull like butter with the impact. Your world begins to blur at the edges as the blade's fatal strike brings its hilt clean through to the bridge of your nose; the last thing you see before falling to the ground in a tattered heap is a figure dressed in voluminous black robes holding that very blade in their mottled hands.
You have been slain by a black-robed figure.
Others in the room saw:
There's a shuffling of feet behind Elene that's accompanied by the whisper of rustling cloth as the footsteps move. What happens next is a blur: a figure bedecked in voluminous black robes withdraws a gleaming silver dagger and plunges it square between Elene's eyes. The blade is driven so far through that its hilt then rests upon the bridge of her nose. With a gruesome withdrawal that sends specks of blood coating your surroundings, the robed figure withdraws the blade and vanishes abruptly from sight, leaving only the still-twitching corpse of Elene behind.
[[Subsequently, when Elene resurrected and came back from the Underhalls, the first thing she remembered was that the dagger that was used, was interestingly, very similar to the one she had in her hands.]]
The knife on your person grows warm to the touch as a voice curls through the back of your mind:
'They would scatter in panic with but a single slice of my blade, you know - you'd need but angle me towards them, and I could do the rest.'
The knife on your person grows warm to the touch as a voice curls through the back of your mind:
'Like insects, gathered around you. They are an unworthy audience for one such as yourself and I. You could strike them down effortlessly, and what a glorious sight that would be. Do it.'
The knife on your person grows warm to the touch as a voice curls through the back of your mind:
'You are capable of such marvelous things. If only they were not standing in your way. You could change that.'
The knife on your person grows warm to the touch as a voice curls through the back of your mind:
'Imagine what the two of us could do together, you and I.'
[[Somewhere as this happened, Menelaus left the now-sizeable group at West Gate. The moment he stepped out, however..]]
@Menelaus has discovered a dagger lodged between their eyes at the hands of a black-robed figure.
You see Alela raise her voice and shout, "HE'S NOT EVEN ONE OF OURS."
A black-robed figure shouts, "He was tainted by your vicinity. We will see you soon."
[[So, Elene started to wonder, if it's something she can utilise to substitute the final death Alela earned under the hands of the cultist, in a bid to find out who or what she's dealing with. Therefore, she started to draw Alela to her, grabbing her as if to kill her. The log continues from here.]]
You have emoted: It's an odd, almost discerning gleam that skitters across her features, and Elene digs a gleaming silver knife deeper into Alela's head, but there's no easy slide of blade into her flesh. It's almost as if there is resistance, not the smooth slice of butter that a dagger in her own head felt like. An inhalation of breath, and an exhalation as she address a gleaming silver knife: "You wanted me to kill those who would stand in my way, didn't you?"
The voice stirs in the back of your mind as if stretching, a level of languidness discernible in its presence. "Do it," it lazily retorts, as if a challenge.
Alela tilts her head side to side, screwing the blade's tip into her flesh. "Am I in your way? AM I IN YOUR WAY?" Her excitement is reaching a fevered pitch, and she reaches up to grab your wrist with both her hands, pulling the knife into her own forehead. Eyes stare wide and wild, unblinking, and teeth glare from between her spread lips.
Viceroy Menelaus Nehekhara says to you, "Did you notice there was some thing off about the culprit's hands?"
Menelaus seems to simply ignore Alela as he speaks calmly and mirthfully towards you.
You have emoted: "Do it?" Elene laughs softly. There's a soft caress of Alela's hair, before her hand shifts into a fist, tugging her head in that motion. The woman wrestles with the strength in her arm, and she jerks her head up, staring at Menelaus. "Mottled hands." There's a pause after her response, and then the woman appears to have a spark of inspiration.
[[Movement.]]
Alela and Maira follow you to the southeast.
Bloody precipice.
Resting on the ground is a cube-shaped silver sigil. A sigil in the shape of a small, rectangular monolith is on the ground. There are 6 wooden buckets here. There are 10 corpses of a carrion beetle here.
You see exits leading east (closed pine door) and northwest.
Menelaus arrives from the northwest.
Chaplain Alela Arcan, Khepri-As-Mortal says, "Good thinking. Waste not."
Alela nods her head sagely.
"Ah!" Menelaus says to a wooden bucket, comprehension flashing across his face.
You have emoted: It's the bloody precipice that she shifts towards, Elene pulling Alela along with her hair as she bodily throws her onto the sticky slab. The woman follows soon after, climbing atop of Alela as the hand on her hair shifts, pressing down upon her throat as she attempts to hold the woman still. Still talking to a gleaming silver knife, she whispers, "The jugular or the head? Does it matter? How do you want me to do it, a simple point like you did to me?"
"Behead her," the voice retorts now, its languidness shaking off as the blade is angled. "Yes, yes, that would be.. quite the display."
Gleaming silver makes up the vast majority of this carefully-crafted knife, its blade meticulously sharpened to a wicked edge. A jagged arrow has been inscribed along the length of its blade, the arrow's apex left to point in tandem with the tip of the weapon were it to be pointed any particular way. Resting at the very bottom of this inscribed arrow is an intricately-imprinted K that curls at its edges.
[HINT]: Pointing the knife at a target would point the arrow by extension at the target as well.
It weighs about 1 kilo(s) and 134 gram(s).
You sent the following message to Saidenn:
If I kill with the blade, I apologise in advance, kef.
You suddenly feel a tugging from a repulsive anklet of canine teeth trophies, as its paired item pulls towards it.
Alela smashes down onto the slab. Once there, she wriggles slightly - not to get away, apparently, because she appears satisfied when she's properly aligned over the channels and troughs. Her wild expression hasn't faded in the slightest in all this.
The vague image of a pectoral of concentric golden rings appears in the air, before Saidenn appears in a flash
of magic.
Emotions come roaring into her, the repression or inundation of all that she has felt in the past month surging past barriers, and now focused upon the knife. There is only the intent to kill, to behead, to draw blood and allow the feast to happen.
Alela sits down.
Menelaus seems slightly startled as Saidenn magically enters but quickly regains composure and nods in greeting towards Saidenn. "Chair." He murmurs in a low voice.
Saidenn takes a moment to blink when he arrives in a surge of magic. "Elene." His rumble rises in an even, but gentle volume toward you. He steps closer toward you, attempting to reach a paw out to rest against your arm.
Alela twists her head to look up at Saidenn, unmindful of the gash the blade opens in her face. "Piss off, CAT," she hisses, "This is just getting fun!"
You have emoted: There's a development in the instability of her heterochromatic gaze. It deeps, twists, and darkens. Elene has no care for anyone else in the precipice, merely the squirming figure that lies upon the slab, prone before her: Alela. She raises a gleaming silver knife up high, the edge gleaming brightly, before it comes whistling down, aimed at the side of her neck. The blade is angled, intending to incise through the side of the neck in a merciless tug. She feels a press of a paw against her upraised arm, and it wavers only slightly, but the woman surges onwards, seeking a gruesome beheading.
Alela grins at the slicing blade - and laughs.
Tension peaks in the voice that curls through your mind, the space it occupies growing. "Do the job, do it so that you may discover the secrets you seek," it hurriedly whispers.
"Kill her. Saw it off. Let her bleed."
Menelaus hardly seems to notice Mileta enter as the blood begins to flow, his crimson eyes lighting up in the gloom of the cavern.
Saidenn feels the pressure and intent behind the swing of the silver knife. The crazed instability within your eyes gets his attention. He growls toward Alela, especially at the chosen address, but his attention more focuses upon the knife. The emeralds upon a pectoral of concentric golden rings flicker toward Ef'tig and Rafic as he focuses on something unseen, attempting to trace any connection between the knife in your grasp and... something else. It is clear that stopping the death is no longer his primary concern, but instead tracing the duality, his free paw reaching outward as if to close about strings.
Saidenn just thought:
Ef'tig. A connection. What is within and without. Rafic, the point, the location. The place. Give me something.
You have emoted: "Secrets. Secrets, secrets," Elene murmurs, the words falling from her ichored lips as she continues on with her task. A soft moan emanates from the woman as her silvery tresses fall upon Alela's features, the woman ripping a gleaming silver knife across her neck in a gruesome tug, the keen edge slicing through the jugular, allowing a soft spray of blood to flicker across her features. "Shut up, Alela. At least be worth something in your death." Her other hand continues to exert pressure upon Alela's neck, cutting off any further attempts to laugh, or to speak.
Mileta arrives from the northwest.
Menelaus focuses on the physical and not so physical struggle unfolding about him, trying to take in every detail he can. His eyes sweep the room, and he then notices Mileta and moves towards Mileta, staying at Mileta's side for the time being. His attention then returns to Alela's sweet sweet Blood spraying this way and that, elegantly.
Mileta gracefully hops off of a three-headed direwolf.
Mileta quickly hops off of a three-headed direwolf coming to a quick silent crouch planting the butt of her bardiche against the floor as her trio of heads gaze at the scene unfold. Feline tails swaying chaotically, only the scorpion one remaining still and quiet.
Alela manages something like a cackle - defiant, dull, and gurgling.
"Die. DIE. DIE. Bleed and become nothing. Who is to stop me? Who dares?" She's without caring, and the woman finds herself consumed by the task. Behead. Make it painful. Make it worthwhile.
"There you are darling," the voice croons. The scent of blood is nearly intoxicating as it spills out, alighting your senses. "Finish her. Do it. End her. KILL her."
Legyn arrives from the northwest.
Saidenn slides his paw upward and around the back of your neck, curling down upon flesh and letting claws sink
inward. He lets out a growl of frustration - not at the death - but at something else. He curls more tightly about the strings, pulling and tugging, trying to trace back from knife to its source. "Give me /something/." He rumbles aloud, closing his eyes, his nose twitching at the scent of blood. Ef'tig glows, Rafic, now Jherza. An electric current ripples around him as he focuses more succinctly, trying to trace any thread through.
"Don't you wish to know our secrets? They will spill from her throat you know. They will wash over you as her blood does, each droplet bringing with it another ounce of knowledge."
Saidenn just thought:
I know you are out there. Inside her head, a ringing bell. But I know there is nothing in that damnable knife. Give me them. Give me someone. Give me /anything/.
Cognoscente Legyn, Sophist of Ef'tig says, "Does anyone know if Elene is part of the Bloodlochian Kingslayer orb?"
El-kef, Mileta Tae'Daenir says to Legyn, "Carnifex and Tyrant."
Pondering an Archivist's leather book entitled, "Principles and Procedures - Revised Arios 490 MA" for a
moment, a sudden flash of recognition flashes across the face of Menelaus as he says, "I don't quite get it but..." pausing a moment before heading to the edge of the stone slab with mystical speed and placing his hand against the knife, it sinking into his hand, but it stops the knife from moving further into Alela's neck.
You have emoted: As if spurred by further words, Elene surges onwards, her moans of want escaping from her lips. Her grip tightens, and the woman presses down hard upon Alela's neck, holding her in place. "The last to die. The last to die." There's a soft cackle as she completes the task, ripping a gleaming silver knife through the rest of Alela's neck. She barely feels the claws that slide into her flesh, the pain that ripples down her frame as Saidenn's claws sink into her, the soft manipulation of Numerology running through her body, eventually rooting within her head as the storm-hued transplanted eye - Saidenn's own - in her head serves as its anchoring point. The sensation that she feels is almost intoxicating, coming off of her in waves of pleasure. "I kill her for you. Give me my reward," she finally utters.
You use Weaponry Behead (start).
You raise a gleaming silver knife over your head and begin to swing it in a wide circle, gaining speed as you
go.
You use Weaponry Behead (mid) on Alela.
You use Weaponry Behead (end) on Alela.
You have slain Alela.
The blood that surrounds you is all-encompassing, the splattering of it sending a surging rush of endorphins along every nerve and coursing through every vein simultaneously in a bombardment of feelings that could at minimum be described as utterly euphoric. Your eyelids flutter as your eyes roll into the back of your head, your body quivering with this rush of emotions. Happiness, relief, excitement - all of this and more strikes at every receptor you have, stirring through your body like a persistent static that clings to you inside and out.
Cognoscente Legyn, Sophist of Ef'tig says, "What kind of reward is Alela worth anyway?"
Menelaus picks up the severed upper part of his hand, no more than four fingers connected by a lump of flesh. He wills it and the open gaping wound to become mist, and then reform back into his hand, slowly but carefully.
Saidenn's ears twitch, the connection that lets him see through you in ways, as well as feel through you has him rumbling. He steps closer, moving his free paw down, now, attempting to curl his paw around the hand holding the knife, aiming to touch part of the metal if is he is able, even to the blade itself if necessary. "What reward?" He asks you directly. "Speak it." He continues pulling, threading, aiming to learn something. Frustrated at how little he is learning, he pushes deeper, attempting to feel and see all the more.
Legyn just thought:
I wonder if my life would be worth more than Alela's?
"You have done so very well," claws the voice into the back of your mind, struggling for a foothold against this overwhelming cacophony of roiling emotion. "But for now we part." Although the words linger in the back of your mind just ever-so-slightly out of reach compared to the sensory overload you now face, silence from that same now-familiar voice ensues after.
[[Alela comes back from death and returns to the precipice.]]
Alela lets loose a belting cackle. "Ahahahaha - good! Good." Her laughter dies down into a bit of a wheezing cough. "Y'know, Mother, you didn't have to be MEAN about it. The remark about my worth was really below the belt." She bends over to inspect her decapitated head and corpse with a satisfied smirk. "Good. Beautiful. Perfect."
You have emoted: Falling back from the slab in a manic relief, Elene's hand comes away with the head. The splatter of blood across her demure features only serve to highlight the heterochromia of her gaze as her eyelids flutter with the euphoria of the kill. Her chest rises and falls in a deep inhalations and exhalations, and her knife hand now strays away from her - except now she realises that the blade is missing. She finally opens her eyes, and the woman steadies herself, swaying upon the spot.
Emotions surge and coil in the raging landscape of her mind. The voice that claws itself into existence within her praises and adorns her with compliments. "You have done so very well," it says. "But for now we part." There's an aching emptiness there as the rush of emotions begin to ebb, the excitement, the happiness, the relief that once stirred her body like a persistent static.
The euphoria slowly begins to fade as you steady yourself, and with its departure comes the gradual awareness of what exactly surrounds you: blood - so very much blood, and the rancid scent that accompanies it. Everything around you appears to bear a slick film of it - that is of course save for the knife.
...It is gone.
No secrets. No whispered prophecies. Only blood and a profound emptiness are left in its wake.
Saidenn feels for the knife, and with it now gone, he blinks. He growls outwardly, angrily, his ears folding back with frustration and upset. He pulls back his touch from you, then, giving you some room to breathe as he flexes his paws, claws visible as his anger at the disappearance of the knife raging through him. He takes several pads away, attempting to focus upon the memory of it, the feel of it, the shape and heft. His anger makes the focus all the more difficult in the moment.
Yet in the overload of sensations that came from the bloodbath, clarity begins to brim through. Part of it is shared with Saidenn, as connection surfaces through her eye to the Idreth. There is so very much blood, and there is the rancid scent of the flood. Everything is covered with a slick film of it, but the knife is gone. THE KNIFE IS GONE, AND THERE ARE NO SECRETS. THERE ARE NO WHISPERED PROPHECIES. THERE IS ONLY EMPTINESS.
You have emoted: Her voice rising in a panic, a sudden euphoria replaced by abrupt hysteria as Elene she slowly comes to herself. "You said you would give me secrets. You whispered that it would come from Alela's throat. YOU LIED. YOU LIED. WHERE DID YOU GO?!" comes her voice, the keening anger of the woman exploding as blood skitters off of her crimson frame, her silken tresses dripping sanguine. "How dare. HOW DARE YOU."
All the angst around Alela has no visible impact on her mood. Rather, she perches herself on the edge of the slab and folds her arms as she hums an airy dity. Her mother's outburst drowns out her music, but it elicits only a slight tilt of her head. Wordless, she stares.
@Legyn watches the raging you from a safe distance, frowning to himself. "So it had nothing to offer after all. Disappointing." He focuses his attention to the spray of blood that covers the blood.
<<Archivists>>: Saidenn says, "Did Akary or any of us leave an anchor upon the blade to track it or mark it?"
<<Archivists>>: You say, "I can't.. I can't remember if I did. I marked it with my blood. Once. In the Archive. By stabbing myself in the jugular. Akary was.. supposed to mark it with ectoplasm further this week."
<<Archivists>>: Saidenn says, "Try to trace it. Seek it. I marked it in blood once, as well, when I was checking how I may get it to work."
Alela just thought:
Honestly, is this a surprise?
"It would seem you've been hoodwinked," Alela finally says. "Pranked."
Legyn just thought:
The knife had nothing useful to offer, but I would still like to know how its creator was able to communicate with us.
Saidenn turns toward Alela, exhaling a growl, his anger still visible. "And it would seem you have shown that you are useless even as a sacrifice," He replies, looking toward Legyn and you. "I am going to try to follow threads as I am able," he says, his tail lashing behind him wildly, quickly, leaving the bells discordant in their chimes. With that, he starts to make his way toward exit.
You have emoted: Her chest heaves angrily, the emotions of the woman held at a trembling pitch of emotions. Everything is hued red. Everything is a crimson film, and it certainly is, the blood sprayed out from Alela's decapitation the root cause. Elene slams her empty fist down hard against the stony slab, again, and again, and again. Bone breaks, and the woman huffs out an exhalation. She turns upon her bare feet, crimson staining their soles in a jingling cacophony of bells and trinkets. She stalks towards Alela, as if sure that the answers lie within her. She says nothing, but her mood is a seething, palpable aura.
(Tells): Your voice echoing with haunting distortions, you speak to Saidenn, "I'm sorry, kef. I lost it. I thought it would reveal more. More traces of itself. Did you feel it? Did it trace? Did it help discern further purpose?" The woman is throwing words after words, struggling to focus. "How do we proceed?"
Whether fearless or simply disciplined, Alela doesn't shrink before your approach. She remains, in fact, rather languid - her stillness broken only momentarily to shoot Saidenn a smirk. Yet, she says nothing. Silent, with mocking laughter written on her features and blood soaking darkly into her clothing.
(Tells): Saidenn Tetzauh tells you, "It could have happened to any of us." He exhales a loud growl, his anger still palpable, albeit not directed toward the woman. "I am not able to feel it as much as I try. I am going to journey somewhere else. Perhaps I may bait a cultist into finding me."
Alela just thought:
What do I care if the cat's mad? He takes it out on me, but its his failure, not mine.
Alela just thought:
Poor, pathetic, impotent puss.
Saidenn Tetzauh says to Legyn, "Let me know if you find anything more."
Saidenn leaves to the northwest, riding a giant, black-furred wolf.
1
Comments
With that, Alela steps out of the way to allow your departure.
[[Movement.]]
(Tells): Your voice echoing with haunting distortions, you speak to Saidenn, "Kef." There is a pause. "I took the life of Alela, but I am wondering if my sacrifice of Alela will take place of the cultist who promised it. Three died before: Qelres, myself, and Menelaus - thought he was not Bloodlochian, but tainted by our proximity. She was to be next."
(Tells): Saidenn Tetzauh tells you, "It is still possible. It is why I suggested someone stay close to her." He exhales slowly. "Although, admittedly, if I were to I would likely end up killing her myself out of principle." He exhales a snort. "Have you learned anything of use?"
As you leave Alela, you catch the faintest glimpse of a flowing black robe standing on a far-off dune, her figure in its sights.
(Tells): Your voice echoing with haunting distortions, you speak to Alela, "Alela, pull me back."
The shade places a shadowy appendage suddenly over your face, blurring your vision as your body is wracked by the sensation of movement. When it finally withdraws, you find yourself elsewhere.
Sweltering desert valley.
The stars shine down from the sky above, bathing the arid land beneath their silvery light. Surrounded in an aura of defilement, Chaplain Alela Arcan, Khepri-As-Mortal is here. She wields a narrow, sinuous flyssa in her left hand and a narrow, sinuous flyssa in her right.
You see exits leading north and southeast.
Alela tilts her head curiously.
Sweetly, Chaplain Alela Arcan, Khepri-As-Mortal asks, "Missed me already?"
There's a rustling then as a black-robed figure bounds off to the southeast.
You say, "THE FIGURE."
"Ah," Alela says as her eyes follow the fleeing figure.
You have emoted: Elene's gaze is sharp as she trails after the figure, the robed individual fleeing from her. She makes to move after the figure, but then wanders back to Alela, uncertain.
Alela begins to follow you.
Chaplain Alela Arcan, Khepri-As-Mortal asks, "Shall we give chase, then?"
[[Movement around the sand dunes.]]
You say, "I left you- and then I saw."
You say, "I saw him standing in a far-off dune."
It is gone. Only endless swathes of sand surround you, any footprints that would have previously been visible now combed over by the desert's scorching winds.
You have emoted: The search is fruitless. It's fruitless. Elene's unable to find any traces of footprints that would have been left upon the shifting sands.
Chaplain Alela Arcan, Khepri-As-Mortal says to you, "Odd. They weren't put off by people standing together before. Why not kill me just now?"
[[Alela decided to tag along as she strayed back to where she was, before she ran back to Alela at the glimpse of the figure. As they wandered down the well, and then further on through the Temple, Alela notices a figure that was not supposed to be in the library section. We head north.]]
Crystalline lair.
Standing to one side of the lair is a solid bookcase, carved from almost clear crystal. Erupting from the ground and engulfed by a funnel of sand and stray earth, a lesser, clay statue of a wyrm thrusts upwards, an ebon egg clutched in its maw. An elderly woman stands here hunched, tending to the things around her. A small sign indicates that LIBRARY CATALOG will list the materials in this library. Scatters of blood cover nearly every surface here, desecrating what was once holy.
You see a single exit leading south.
[HINT]: A hunchbacked elderly woman seems particularly alert.
Outfitted in drab from head to toe, this hunchbacked elderly woman uses a gnarled walking stick to help her move from one place to the next. A brown headscarf covers her hair and ears, tied neatly under her neck while a very thick woolen dress is used to keep insulation and warmth. Heavy brown boots thick and stained with mud keep her feet out of the elements and complete her rather monotone wardrobe. Deep-set wrinkles cover her face and her greyed hair has been tightened into a firm bun. A smile lights up her face, and her eyes glimmer with something beyond her years yet.
A hunchbacked elderly woman looks weak and feeble.
She carries over ten weeks of survival experience.
She weighs about 71 kilo(s).
(Tells): Your voice echoing with haunting distortions, you speak to Saidenn, "Did you notice this woman in the Temple when you searched for signs, kef?"
(Tells): Saidenn Tetzauh tells you, "I... did not. I noticed no one. The entire place was empty."
Chaplain Alela Arcan, Khepri-As-Mortal says to a hunchbacked elderly woman, "Ah, is it - yes, I've seen you before somewhere. Hello."
You have emoted: A soft pattering of footsteps, a jingling of bells. Elene enters the lair, and she settles her gaze upon a hunchbacked elderly woman. "You.. I've been here before, but I've never seen you. Who are you?"
A hunchbacked elderly woman appears to be browsing a rather empty bookshelf, turning around with a small hobble over her gnarled walking stick. "Ah, hello." She says, smiling from ear to ear that it causes dimples to form and her eyes to nearly shut from the gesture. "Me?" She asks, "Oh, I just got a little lost." She cackles quietly to herself.
[[Saidenn enters through the anklet-pectoral bond.]]
Saidenn's paws find purchase after the magical thread that lead him to you completes its work. He listens to your inquiry, his eyebrow whiskers rising. "Do you have a name?" He asks, "I am Saidenn," he offers, first, stepping closer to hold out a ring-clad paw toward a hunchbacked elderly woman.
You have emoted: Elene's gaze flits across the lair, the clear glass that forms this chamber allowing the
revolving light in the area to cast vibrant striations of colour within. Her heterochromatic gaze falls upon a small statue at the very rear, and the hoard of gems that rest behind her head draws her attention. It is brief, however, and the woman patters towards a solid crystal bookcase, equally disappointed with its sparse offerings.
Alela just thought:
Lost? She turns up at times that are too... no, I don't believe that.
Alela's lips press together in a thin line, but they quickly relax into a smile. "Lost, huh?" She speaks mostly to herself. "Aren't we all?"
(Tells): Your voice echoing with haunting distortions, you speak to Alela, "Who is this woman?"
(Tells): Alela whispers into your consciousness, "I don't know exactly. She turned up at North of Trees when Lieutenant Rijetta was trying to extract information about oneiromantic color theory from the Imago's Seer."
(Tells): Alela whispers into your consciousness, "The Dream Goddess's people had evidently met her before, but I didn't glean anything else about her at the time. I mostly find her appearance... convenient."
A hunchbacked elderly woman leans over her walking stick, "What a polite young man." She cackles, rather self-deprecatingly, not unlike a bog witch you might find far away from civilisation. She reaches over and gives a gentle grasp of Saidenn's hand, "I have an old lady's name my late husband used to tease when we were young. But I suppose I am old lady now, aren't I?" She cackles again. "Helga, but just call me Gran."
Alela just thought:
Cat, not man.
Alela clears her throat softly. "Hello, Helga." She smiles politely, or as politely as she can manage. "I'm Alela."
Alela just thought:
I am Khepri-As-Mortal.
Saidenn is gentle in his squeeze of the hand now in his paw, the pads warm and cushy, as one may expect of a cat. "Gran, then," He purrs with a wry twist of his maw. His tail flicks with a soft chime of bells that possibly echoes in the decrepit temple. "We must have passed each other as I was here not even... an eighth of a day ago," he muses, his ears folding back, "It is quite a bit of a climb to reach here," he muses, "Although I did notice there were some decent mushrooms not growing too far away." His eyes glimmer gently. "But... one can get lost down an old well a bit easily, perhaps?"
Alela just thought:
And you, Gran, are not what you seem.
You have emoted: "Helga," Elene murmurs, tossing the name upon her tongue. She nods her head quietly, storing away the information as she finally turns from a solid crystal bookcase. Unlike her previous outburst of emotions, she's rather quiescent in contrast. Her hands shift forward, clasping together in front of her as she stares at a hunchbacked elderly woman, observing her in a soft inspection. "Were you hurt?" she asks, her voice a lilting gentleness.
Her voice a soft murmur in a tone meant for her, you say, "Gran. Like grandmother. Granny."
Saidenn just thought:
Mmh. Old Woman. Old Temple. Matriarch?
Alela sidles up beside a hunchbacked elderly woman and leans forward to inspect the bookcase. "Not a lot to see here, and I don't even read," she muses.
"Hello, Alela." a hunchbacked elderly woman smiles towards Alela before her non-existent eyebrows raise in surprise towards both Saidenn and then you, "A well? Hurt? No, no. If I fell down a well I fear I would be done for." She reasons simply with another soft cackle, adjusting her bony fingers around the large gnarled walking stick. "I just let me feet carry me where I will. Sometimes us old folk need a break from making pies and taking naps." She turns over to look at the bare remains of a solid crystal bookcase. "Not a lot at all." She replies somewhat sadly in agreement with Alela.
"I like pie," Alela murmurs to no one as she falls back behind you and Saidenn. She falls silently into her thoughts while the two Archivists lead the conversation.
Alela just thought:
Worthless, hmph.
(Tells): Saidenn Tetzauh tells you, "See if there are any hidden switches or trips around the bookcase."
You have emoted: Elene does her best to wipe the blood that still remains upon her frame. Her movements are a furtive shift of movement, her feet turned slightly to obscure vision of the woman. There's nothing that can be done to her silken tresses, still stained with crimson. There's a huff of helplessness, and she decides to embrace her look. As conversation continues between a hunchbacked elderly woman and the other individuals in the lair, the woman turns her attention back to a solid crystal bookcase, frowning at the furniture. Her hands pull away from her, beginning to flutter across the furniture.
Alela just thought:
Should ask if she knew Lorenzo.
Alela just thought:
Or at least ask what other interesting places she's been.
(Tells): Your voice echoing with haunting distortions, you speak to Alela, "Ask about Lorenzo, if you think the conversation is leading that way."
Alela narrows her eyes at you.
Alela just thought:
I didn't realize you were eavesdropping...
You reach out and touch a solid crystal bookcase.
Saidenn exhales a low rumble, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he studies a hunchbacked elderly woman. He listens, silently, for a moment, "True, that well is quite a bit of a walk for anyone," he murmurs, before exhaling a laugh. "Sometimes us young folk need a break from starting trouble or diving head first into it." He briefly looks toward you and Alela, then back to a hunchbacked elderly woman. "I imagine you have seen quite a few sights in your wanderings," he muses, staying politely close to the older woman, "The least of all a desecrated holy place to a forgotten Goddess."
There used to be books of worth here, in her Temple.
Alela just thought:
Clearly not that forgotten!
I, too, once stood as one of Hers. Under Moirean, under Her enforcer, Kikon, I was Hers, even if briefly.
Alela just thought:
Wait, are you ALL eavesdropping? Ruuude.
Saidenn just thought:
Her eyes. There is something in her eyes. She knows something, more than... mmh. But how.
You have emoted: In her hands, Elene fiddles with an elegant white letter, drawn out from the depths of a sturdy scholar's book bag. It elicits a softest rustle of paper, as the woman turns her gaze down upon the parchment.
A hunchbacked elderly woman gives a sad sort of smile, looking all around the lair and adjusting her shawl. "This would not be the first time a temple has been ransacked or ruined in the name of progress or 'the greater good', would it?" She asks, seemingly very unaware of all the eavesdropping and psychic communication. She sits there, like a very large ball of rags hunched over her stick. She seems content to simply sit there between the three of you. "I like pies too." She croaks and adjusts her weight from foot to foot.
Alela nods slowly at a hunchbacked elderly woman and shifts her weight from foot to foot - each arachnoid limb taps softly at the ground in turn. Finally breaking her silence, she asks, "You been anywhere else particularly interesting, Gran?"
Saidenn notices the adjustment to the shawl and frowns. "Ah, it is quite drafty in these old places, yes," he purrs, stepping closer to offer an arm of warm fur toward a hunchbacked elderly woman. "And you are correct. Progress and the 'greater good' has claimed much in this world, both known and unknown." He would pause at Alela's question, giving time for it to be heard, but also hopefully take up some of the old woman's focus, attempting to give the rotund Gran-rag a more thorough inspection for anything of interest or note.
Alela just thought:
Can't seem to see her hands.
You have emoted: "Is there anything you are searching for that we might be able to help you with?" Elene's voice eventually trickles from her. It is a silken lilt, intended to be nautral in its delivery. She folds away an elegant white letter, tucking it away within a sturdy scholar's book bag. Hands empty, and the woman turns away from a solid crystal bookcase, inert in her inspection. She wanders over to a hunchbacked elderly woman, drawing near, but not so close as to intrude upon personal space. "Sometimes, the ruins are but ruins. Even if it might be ransacked for the sake of progress, there are some intangible things that can never be gained by the physical act itself." There is a soft pause. "The true value of its significance lie in the people that still remember."
Saidenn just thought:
Perhaps an old devout. Or perhaps a reconstitution. What does Yi tell me? So little learned, so little found. No matter how one tugs.
@Iesid clambers down from a pile of rubble to the south.
As if it would explain everything, Iesid Mulariad, the Imago's Seer says to Alela, "When gran asks..."
A hunchbacked elderly woman cackles quietly, smacking her lips and staring up at Saidenn before turning her attention to Alela and you respectively. "No, no. This old bag just got a bit lost. It's a dangerous business, going out your door." She states both vaguely and simply, her lips turning up to smile, "I have been exploring colours recently. Those have been very interested. Lots of blue folks. I even met someone silver. A princess and all that." She cackles again before noticing Iesid, "Oh, look what strapping young lad arrived." She cackles.
For a moment, Iesid is too absorbed in looking around his surroundings and taking in the details of whatever this strange place happens to be. He offers a hunchbacked elderly woman a wide smile in response to such high praise, one arm crooked and offered already for her. "I thought you were actually stuck in a well! This is easy to get you out of," he states with no small degree of relief. "How did you even get here, Gran? Lookin' for more ogres?"
Comprehension spreads across Saidenn's face, and he exhales a laugh. It is then confirmed further with the arrival of Iesid. "But of course," he exhales after he listens. His ears twitch, and he listens to the mention of people and colors. "I have heard there have been quite a few from the different spheres," he rumbles, "All sorts of colours." He looks toward you and Alela with that same crease of amusement, then dips his head toward Iesid as his tongue switches to little more than purrs and sub-vocal intonations.
You have emoted: "Blue, and silver," Elene hums. The woman nods her head with Iesid's arrival, her ichored lips flickering upwards in a small smile of recognition. Her blood-drenched tresses sway beside her face, dangling away from the place it should be: behind her jade-tipped ears. She does not comment further on the words from a hunchbacked elderly woman, and the woman folds her arms before herself. "She is not hurt, at least," she offers.
Iesid just thought:
"... this book is gibberish, and I discuss Astral Chaos with the unenlightened every damned day," the Seer gripes to himself.
Saidenn Tetzauh says to Iesid with purrs and near-subvocal intonations, "One of Tecpatl's getting a bit... distracted, perhaps?"
Alela just thought:
Is he purring or was that speech?
Iesid Mulariad, the Imago's Seer says to Saidenn with purrs and near-subvocal intonations, "If you mean this kind old woman, no. She's my gran, not a congregant or courtier. Very different, just as important."
Chaplain Alela Arcan, Khepri-As-Mortal says, "Oh Gods, they're purring at each other now."
Alela slaps a hand over her mouth - evidently, she hadn't intended to actually say that.
"I am stuck." a hunchbacked elderly woman decides simply and raises one hand from her gnarled walking stick to the rubble to the south. "Look at those rocks. How am I supposed to get over them?" She asks superfluously, making no mention of how she got over them in the first place. "These nice people kept me some company." She responds to Iesid rather kindly, taking his arm. "No, no, just One ogre." She cackles quietly in response to Iesid's prior question.
With a brief smile toward the old woman, Saidenn Tetzauh says to Iesid with purrs and near-subvocal intonations, "I see. I am more curious of the people she has met, but I will not pry too far. Although, I have heard rumblings of things."
You have emoted: Elene's gaze slides from Iesid to Saidenn, following the conversation that starts between the
two. Her ichored lips twitch, and humour skitters across the depths of her gaze. The woman finally shifts upon
her feet, the soft chime of tiny bells accompanying the clatter of silver trinkets upon an ankle. "Crimson and black. I don't suppose you've seen any of those shades, have you, Gran?" the woman asks. She allows a hunchbacked elderly woman to shift, to take Iesid's proffered arm.
Saidenn pauses after his statement, moving toward the rocks. "I will help with moving them if need be," he says with an easier smile and a shift back into Aetolian. "They may actually prove quite easy with a bit of the right application of force."
Alela's hand slides from her face to reveal something of a scowl as she's kept out of the cat-versation.
(Tells): Your voice echoing with haunting distortions, you speak to Alela, "It's the month of Khepary."
Saidenn just thought:
Where did I hear of it. Colors. Circles. People... Enorian?
Iesid clears his throat after his usage of the Rajamalan language, his lips pursed as he listens on to all of those around him - but most especially a hunchbacked elderly woman. He doesn't bother challenging the clear inconsistency of the explanation; perhaps the Seer knows better. "Yes, there have been Astral personages visiting the Chromatic Court," he confirms to Saidenn, though he has a swift addendum for you: "Red has not come to visit. Black has no need of a Astral nobles."
Iesid Mulariad, the Imago's Seer says to Saidenn, "I would be happy to help you move them, though I could as easily bring her along with me via all sorts of teleportation magic if she's fine with a wilder ride."
(Tells): Alela whispers into your consciousness, "Astute observation, Mother."
Iesid Mulariad, the Imago's Seer asks a hunchbacked elderly woman, "What were you lookin' for down here anyways?"
Saidenn Tetzauh says to Iesid, "I think... there are times for magic, and times to simply use a bit of physical labor."
Iesid Mulariad, the Imago's Seer says to Saidenn, "I suppose I could crush a few with my gauntlets, aye."
A hunchbacked elderly woman stares at you and her eyes glaze over slightly, she seems to space out before returning to the present slightly. "Mm? Black and red? No, no. I only know..." She takes a moment to think. "Blue. And silver." She smiles at this recollection, seeming proud of herself. Her head tilts in Iesid's direction, "Looking? I ended up down this well on a nice stroll through the forest. Then I ran into these nice people here." She explains with a quiet cackle, lips stretching from side to side as more wrinkles are added to her aged face from the gesture. "This bookshelf is rather empty, anyways."
A hunchbacked elderly woman begins to follow Iesid.
(Tells): Your voice echoing with haunting distortions, you speak to Iesid, "I was tracking a robed figure who came from Bloodloch. The threat on the boards. The last to perish." There is meaningful intent. "And in my search for the figure, I travelled down the well.. only to meet Gran." There's nothing else offered. "Have a good day, Iesid."
As nonchalantly as she can manage, Alela casts an appraising look over Saidenn. The question is written on her face - has this man ever known physical labor?
(Tells): Vivid colours fill your mind as Iesid communicates to you, "... oh. That's what th-- ... hm."
Saidenn exhales a laugh, "Or, I could take care of them, too," he purrs with a wave of a ring-clad paw. "Perhaps a different kind of magic, so Gran is not stuck down here too long." The mention of the Astral personages does get his attention, however. "Have they brought anything intriguing with their visits?" He asks even as he moves toward the rocks. "You see after Gran, Seer, I may take care of this," He purrs, even as as the symbol of Jherza flickers upon a pectoral of concentric golden rings. He searches easily, smoothly, in a practiced way, collecting the strings that tie the various rocks to reality. One after another after another is strung upon claws, and with a simple, easy gesture, does he pull, seeking to unbind the threads that tie the rubble to reality.
You have emoted: "It certainly is," Elene notes. The woman takes simple steps towards Saidenn, a rustle of silks and gossamers following her movement as she crosses the lair, settling next to him. "It is good to see you, Iesid, but perhaps we can speak further next time," she murmurs, her voice a soft lilt as she settles her gaze upon Iesid.
"Alright, alright. Well, why don't I get to smashing so you can get home and tend to the homestead, eh?" Iesid proposes to a hunchbacked elderly woman; at the mention of the bookshelf's clear lack of interesting or legible contents, the Seer can only offer a grimace and a nod that lingers long enough to stain the words that he speaks. He rolls back his coat sleeves... only to find that Saidenn has already gotten started - a fact that allows him to look aside towards you and offer a nod. "I am looking for a subject of mutual interest to us. Perhaps our discussion can go along that way as well."
Iesid just thought:
For some reason, the image of a particularly plain mural on some temple wall crosses along the mind's eye of the Seer. Naught much else can be gleaned from it.
Iesid Mulariad, the Imago's Seer says to a hunchbacked elderly woman, "Back to Enorian, eh? I've got to go pray for someone's safety."
Alela sniffs at Iesid. By way of good-bye, she says, "I hope you enjoyed your treat, Smeller."
Iesid Mulariad, the Imago's Seer frowns and says to Alela, "I am allergic. I had a very bad reaction."
Iesid disappears over the top of a pile of rubble to the south.
He is followed by a hunchbacked elderly woman.
(Web): Abhorash says, "Nerds."
(Web): Abhorash has left your web.
Alela's Affirmations