This thread will be moderated by Incubus. I have permission to use Talia.
Ashan 82nd
Deep in the bowels of the world, a fire stirred, it shook before shattering at its base. Embers and ash spilled, and a forlorn hiss filled the air. A woman stepped upon the dissipating flames, and her robes consumed them; then the fabric glowed orange, illuminating the woman’s features.
”Vuhl’mathi, you will take control of your Naxos at once...” muttered the Black One. Disappointment wrapped up her mind, supreme disappointment in the Corrupted’s continued mismanagement of his Naxos, the Becomer named Mal.
”I will do so, but he has proven hard to control in the past. There exists a woman he adores, a half-blooded Avriel. He’ll obey, if only to protect her,” Vuhl’mathi’s voice sounded frustrated and annoyed, the beast of a man feeling humiliated.
”I know about this. You told me he stopped caring, but I think you broke him Vuhl’mathi, Toymaker.”
The man seethed, his fists tightening into murderous creases. That title. Toymaker, given to him by the woman he hated with every fiber of his being, was resented immensely by him. When he was young before joining the Seekers, he carved and painted dolls. Now the Coven mocked him for it, and every utterance was a stab to his pride.
But Talia, she turned and threw a lei of crystallized stone-flowers to the Becomer’s feet.
”Place this upon his head, all memory will be taken for as long as he wears it. That will keep him under control.” Then she reached into a satchel, her skinny arm delving to impossible depths, everything inside neatly arranged and stored within a Domain. Her fingers clasped a sword, and as it glinted against flame Vuhl’mathi growled from the dazzling display of light.
”And this blade none could look at, you expect me to detain him with that?”
”Yes.” She pointed the weapon at him, and the room went dark for half-a-second before a thin beam of light shot out and struck Vuhl’mathi in the chest. The light spread out to cover his entire body from head to toe, and Talia sheathed the blade, dispelling the effect.
He collapsed to the floor, that crystallized light causing him to breathe in mystified fear. “W-what was that?” he gasped.
”You will bring Mirror’s Web back to me before the Trial is over, and I will have some of Mal’s blood for my research.” She pointed to the far wall of her laboratory, a series of Rupturing gates positioned over founts of crimson ‘neath glass. Then from her hand outstretched, she gave Vuhl’mathi the sword, and the Toymaker nodded curtly before reaching down to take that crown with him.
”I shall bring you the boy,” he growled, before thumbing over the Rupturing artifact Talia had given him nearly an Arc ago. The trinket only activated when Ellasin or Talia had need of him, useless otherwise, but it let him use certain Coven Sundials hidden around the land.
Then Vuhl’mathi stepped upon the platform and squeezed the cold silver firmly, and the floor roared beneath him. Familiar to the sensation, he found himself dropping through a ceiling on the other side. Etzos, now he was in Etzos...
Vuhl’mathi’s other Naxos was already there, bent over a table reading a journal regarding Abrogation. He set the book down, the chair creaking as he stared silently at the volatile man who outranked him. “Vinvatul,” Vuhl beckoned, curling a finger at him as he walked by. The middle-aged man quietly stood, filing away the book and following behind Vuhl’mathi close behind as the two stepped through a spelled wall in the Etzos underground.
”I was watching Mal until rats became much desired. It appears my fellow Naxos has discovered how to Metamorphose animals, for the homeless are incessantly collecting them.”
”Why are my Naxos such disappointments?”
”I couldn’t say.”
”You’re just going to get in the way. Stay back, you coward.” The venom was clear in Vuhl’mathi’s voice, and his barbed tail lashed against the Naxos’ skin.
The man howled in pain and fell away immediately, walking with whimpered sobs as those three-inch needles dug deep into his skin. Vuhl’mathi had done this to him before, so now he sought pliers with no short amount of urgency.
Vuhl’mathi, on the other hand, was busy following the tunnels to the Downtrodden, Mal’s little enterprise that Vuda had warned the Coven about. Mal was an embarrassment to them, so blatantly out in the open, clawing for a reputation, letting all of the eyes focus on his pathetic accomplishments. If the Coven was going to get the resources it wanted from Vuda, they would need to keep control of their dirty laundry, Mal included.
Bronze tusks gored across a table slowly, a gigantic Hyx roiling in boredom carving up the table with words. K I L V O D A he spelled, pretty convinced he’d spelled it correctly. Then he rose and looked down upon his friends, his head quite close to the ceiling.
”So are we going to get the contract or not?” he asked Moriandis, a man he’d spared for his usefulness. First the man had no morals, no sense of justice or purpose, but Mal gave him all three by example.
”I’m ‘fraid not,” he sighed. “There’s a chance she could come over, but she seemed disinterested.”
”I’ll not press that for awhile.”
”That would be wise.”
It was tiresome to socialize so much, and furthermore his reserves of spare energy were low, Mal expending as much as he could to cheaply feed his growing web of homeless contacts. The information they shared was useful--he’d just learned of a guarded tunnel the day prior, and now he was resting enough to overpower the guards and investigate.
Except nothing felt right. A deep, foreboding sense of dread filled his gut today, his meeting with Nightshade Trials ago making it hard to forget the day he’d become a murderer at Vuhl’mathi’s behest. He still felt the pangs of guilt, as he always had. What sickened him was how easy it was, and that he still kept the totem after all this time to remind him of the monster he was becoming.
I don’t deserve anyone... I’m horrible. Why do these people flock to me like migrating birds? Because I feed them? Clothe them? Give them things? Am I just bribing people to care about me so I can feel something? I’m sick... tears began to bud at the corner of his eyes, but nobody noticed; they were having a mirthful time drinking.
Suddenly Mal heard something crack against the door. Head swiveling, he watched as metallic feathers pierced, slashed, and diced the wood of the door he’d only recently paid to replace. My door! Mal’s lips peeled back, exposing a row of orange, bronze teeth. The Becomer strode towards danger, at least until he saw the man that stepped out of the wreckage.
“Vuhl’mathi!” he snapped out of his malaise, a small panic starting to take over him..
“How are we today, Mal?” The Becomer smirked, clawed hand relaxed around the sheathed blade at his hip.
Mal’s nose darted to the stunned, confused patrons of his newborn business. ”Don’t fight him!” he urged. “Run when you get the chance!” then he turned his attention back on Vuhl’mathi, crouching low in this hybrid form he’d been wearing for several Trials--it was a Hyx, with Adapted dense muscle, added feline reflexes, and those Bronze Boar traits from before. Even his fur had a metallic density to it, making draw cuts somewhat difficult.
Then Vuhl’mathi’s claw popped the sword up, and he clasped the handle of the blade. The weapon sung as it pulled free from its scabbard, announcing itself to the two of them. Familiar with Talia’s designs, Vuhl’mathi pressed the gem; it clicked, and the lights dimmed.
Mal could see just fine, but then again so could Vuhl. What the Naxos found strange, however, was that the torches were all still lit. “What kind of illusion is this? he growled.
”It matters naught. Come with me, or I will make you.”
The great Hyx spat at the floor, then sprung from his crouch, gliding through the air until Vuhl’mathi clicked the blade again. That very same beam of light which hampered Vuhl struck Mal in the chest before he could react, and yellow crystals scattered all over his body.
”Nngh, you coward!” he said immediately after. Unfortunately no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t pry himself free, and for some reason the plate glass surrounding him felt oddly like that time Vuda had blocked out his transformation capabilities. “W-what is this?” he yiped as Vuda stepped forward, reaching out with lei in hand, each stone petal glowing blue as the sword kept the light in the room in check.
Total fear eclipsed the young Becomer’s mind. “N-no,” he pulled at the glass, but his muscles were totally encased. “What is that? Stop!” his fear reached new heights, and he gasped horridly. I’d just met you again, Nightshade, he shut his eyes, heart pacing up a storm. He felt sick, totally outclassed. All around him people screamed, and the one man who stepped up to defend Mal was quickly cut down by that sword, the area momentarily brightening until Vuhl’mathi wiped away the crimson against his own fur.
”Garrick!” he cried, and then he glared with a deep resentment that caused no change in his assailant’s demeanor. “Do it. Kill me, you fekking pig!”
That blade, it’s keeping me still... with the light? He’d felt the glass prison weaken when the light did, and a peripheral glance had shown the warped haze of what little luminescence yet existed being redirected towards the blade, where it was further harnessed as a material to keep Mal pinned.
”Do you really think I’m going to kill you, Naxos? No, I’ve just brought something to help us reconnect. That’s all...”
“Someone, anyone!” the imprisoned Hyx begged, Vuhl’mathi’s hands inches away with that wreathe of odd flowers giving off a purple glint in the low light. “Snuff ‘ta torches!”
”Gladly,” Vuhl’mathi obliged, a wicked smile upon his lips. This was it, the moment Mal would become his total pawn.
Mal was in despair. Everything he'd ever hated himself for flashed before his eyes, his nose crinkling as those bleary, wet eyes trembled in total helplessness.
Ashan 82nd
Deep in the bowels of the world, a fire stirred, it shook before shattering at its base. Embers and ash spilled, and a forlorn hiss filled the air. A woman stepped upon the dissipating flames, and her robes consumed them; then the fabric glowed orange, illuminating the woman’s features.
”Vuhl’mathi, you will take control of your Naxos at once...” muttered the Black One. Disappointment wrapped up her mind, supreme disappointment in the Corrupted’s continued mismanagement of his Naxos, the Becomer named Mal.
”I will do so, but he has proven hard to control in the past. There exists a woman he adores, a half-blooded Avriel. He’ll obey, if only to protect her,” Vuhl’mathi’s voice sounded frustrated and annoyed, the beast of a man feeling humiliated.
”I know about this. You told me he stopped caring, but I think you broke him Vuhl’mathi, Toymaker.”
The man seethed, his fists tightening into murderous creases. That title. Toymaker, given to him by the woman he hated with every fiber of his being, was resented immensely by him. When he was young before joining the Seekers, he carved and painted dolls. Now the Coven mocked him for it, and every utterance was a stab to his pride.
But Talia, she turned and threw a lei of crystallized stone-flowers to the Becomer’s feet.
”Place this upon his head, all memory will be taken for as long as he wears it. That will keep him under control.” Then she reached into a satchel, her skinny arm delving to impossible depths, everything inside neatly arranged and stored within a Domain. Her fingers clasped a sword, and as it glinted against flame Vuhl’mathi growled from the dazzling display of light.
”And this blade none could look at, you expect me to detain him with that?”
”Yes.” She pointed the weapon at him, and the room went dark for half-a-second before a thin beam of light shot out and struck Vuhl’mathi in the chest. The light spread out to cover his entire body from head to toe, and Talia sheathed the blade, dispelling the effect.
He collapsed to the floor, that crystallized light causing him to breathe in mystified fear. “W-what was that?” he gasped.
”You will bring Mirror’s Web back to me before the Trial is over, and I will have some of Mal’s blood for my research.” She pointed to the far wall of her laboratory, a series of Rupturing gates positioned over founts of crimson ‘neath glass. Then from her hand outstretched, she gave Vuhl’mathi the sword, and the Toymaker nodded curtly before reaching down to take that crown with him.
”I shall bring you the boy,” he growled, before thumbing over the Rupturing artifact Talia had given him nearly an Arc ago. The trinket only activated when Ellasin or Talia had need of him, useless otherwise, but it let him use certain Coven Sundials hidden around the land.
Then Vuhl’mathi stepped upon the platform and squeezed the cold silver firmly, and the floor roared beneath him. Familiar to the sensation, he found himself dropping through a ceiling on the other side. Etzos, now he was in Etzos...
Vuhl’mathi’s other Naxos was already there, bent over a table reading a journal regarding Abrogation. He set the book down, the chair creaking as he stared silently at the volatile man who outranked him. “Vinvatul,” Vuhl beckoned, curling a finger at him as he walked by. The middle-aged man quietly stood, filing away the book and following behind Vuhl’mathi close behind as the two stepped through a spelled wall in the Etzos underground.
”I was watching Mal until rats became much desired. It appears my fellow Naxos has discovered how to Metamorphose animals, for the homeless are incessantly collecting them.”
”Why are my Naxos such disappointments?”
”I couldn’t say.”
”You’re just going to get in the way. Stay back, you coward.” The venom was clear in Vuhl’mathi’s voice, and his barbed tail lashed against the Naxos’ skin.
The man howled in pain and fell away immediately, walking with whimpered sobs as those three-inch needles dug deep into his skin. Vuhl’mathi had done this to him before, so now he sought pliers with no short amount of urgency.
Vuhl’mathi, on the other hand, was busy following the tunnels to the Downtrodden, Mal’s little enterprise that Vuda had warned the Coven about. Mal was an embarrassment to them, so blatantly out in the open, clawing for a reputation, letting all of the eyes focus on his pathetic accomplishments. If the Coven was going to get the resources it wanted from Vuda, they would need to keep control of their dirty laundry, Mal included.
Bronze tusks gored across a table slowly, a gigantic Hyx roiling in boredom carving up the table with words. K I L V O D A he spelled, pretty convinced he’d spelled it correctly. Then he rose and looked down upon his friends, his head quite close to the ceiling.
”So are we going to get the contract or not?” he asked Moriandis, a man he’d spared for his usefulness. First the man had no morals, no sense of justice or purpose, but Mal gave him all three by example.
”I’m ‘fraid not,” he sighed. “There’s a chance she could come over, but she seemed disinterested.”
”I’ll not press that for awhile.”
”That would be wise.”
It was tiresome to socialize so much, and furthermore his reserves of spare energy were low, Mal expending as much as he could to cheaply feed his growing web of homeless contacts. The information they shared was useful--he’d just learned of a guarded tunnel the day prior, and now he was resting enough to overpower the guards and investigate.
Except nothing felt right. A deep, foreboding sense of dread filled his gut today, his meeting with Nightshade Trials ago making it hard to forget the day he’d become a murderer at Vuhl’mathi’s behest. He still felt the pangs of guilt, as he always had. What sickened him was how easy it was, and that he still kept the totem after all this time to remind him of the monster he was becoming.
I don’t deserve anyone... I’m horrible. Why do these people flock to me like migrating birds? Because I feed them? Clothe them? Give them things? Am I just bribing people to care about me so I can feel something? I’m sick... tears began to bud at the corner of his eyes, but nobody noticed; they were having a mirthful time drinking.
Suddenly Mal heard something crack against the door. Head swiveling, he watched as metallic feathers pierced, slashed, and diced the wood of the door he’d only recently paid to replace. My door! Mal’s lips peeled back, exposing a row of orange, bronze teeth. The Becomer strode towards danger, at least until he saw the man that stepped out of the wreckage.
“Vuhl’mathi!” he snapped out of his malaise, a small panic starting to take over him..
“How are we today, Mal?” The Becomer smirked, clawed hand relaxed around the sheathed blade at his hip.
Mal’s nose darted to the stunned, confused patrons of his newborn business. ”Don’t fight him!” he urged. “Run when you get the chance!” then he turned his attention back on Vuhl’mathi, crouching low in this hybrid form he’d been wearing for several Trials--it was a Hyx, with Adapted dense muscle, added feline reflexes, and those Bronze Boar traits from before. Even his fur had a metallic density to it, making draw cuts somewhat difficult.
Then Vuhl’mathi’s claw popped the sword up, and he clasped the handle of the blade. The weapon sung as it pulled free from its scabbard, announcing itself to the two of them. Familiar with Talia’s designs, Vuhl’mathi pressed the gem; it clicked, and the lights dimmed.
Mal could see just fine, but then again so could Vuhl. What the Naxos found strange, however, was that the torches were all still lit. “What kind of illusion is this? he growled.
”It matters naught. Come with me, or I will make you.”
The great Hyx spat at the floor, then sprung from his crouch, gliding through the air until Vuhl’mathi clicked the blade again. That very same beam of light which hampered Vuhl struck Mal in the chest before he could react, and yellow crystals scattered all over his body.
”Nngh, you coward!” he said immediately after. Unfortunately no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t pry himself free, and for some reason the plate glass surrounding him felt oddly like that time Vuda had blocked out his transformation capabilities. “W-what is this?” he yiped as Vuda stepped forward, reaching out with lei in hand, each stone petal glowing blue as the sword kept the light in the room in check.
Total fear eclipsed the young Becomer’s mind. “N-no,” he pulled at the glass, but his muscles were totally encased. “What is that? Stop!” his fear reached new heights, and he gasped horridly. I’d just met you again, Nightshade, he shut his eyes, heart pacing up a storm. He felt sick, totally outclassed. All around him people screamed, and the one man who stepped up to defend Mal was quickly cut down by that sword, the area momentarily brightening until Vuhl’mathi wiped away the crimson against his own fur.
”Garrick!” he cried, and then he glared with a deep resentment that caused no change in his assailant’s demeanor. “Do it. Kill me, you fekking pig!”
That blade, it’s keeping me still... with the light? He’d felt the glass prison weaken when the light did, and a peripheral glance had shown the warped haze of what little luminescence yet existed being redirected towards the blade, where it was further harnessed as a material to keep Mal pinned.
”Do you really think I’m going to kill you, Naxos? No, I’ve just brought something to help us reconnect. That’s all...”
“Someone, anyone!” the imprisoned Hyx begged, Vuhl’mathi’s hands inches away with that wreathe of odd flowers giving off a purple glint in the low light. “Snuff ‘ta torches!”
”Gladly,” Vuhl’mathi obliged, a wicked smile upon his lips. This was it, the moment Mal would become his total pawn.
Mal was in despair. Everything he'd ever hated himself for flashed before his eyes, his nose crinkling as those bleary, wet eyes trembled in total helplessness.