Best Of

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.



[[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.