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Most Recent Posts
Alchemistic is not for everyone. Please consult your physician before roleplaying.
Too early to say really. I like the plot and the races are fascinating. Im actually impressed with the amount the both of you are posting. Im used to advanced being about sixish paragraphs or so. Was not expecting to be out-posted so early in the game.
Ah well, the bigger the challenge, the better.
Ah well, the bigger the challenge, the better.
Posted. I played with the cosmetic effects of the magic a bit. Hope you approve.
"Feisty one, she," the witch said, barely flinching from the girl's attempts to inflict injury."And yet none will save her; because chivalry is long since dead."
"Damn you, witch!," Khaylan shouted, freeig his sword from its sheath at last. There might be no love lost between him and Miranda, but he would rather be damned than watch this witch victimize someone else. "She has nothing to do with this. You want me."
The witch however, had something in mind. Even as Khaylan tried to approach, she drove her impossibly sharp fingernails into Miranda's shoulder."The blood in this wench's veins will be your undoing, Khaylan," she said, and words of power echoed from her throat, the flowing blood dripping to the ground and forming some sort of symbol that Khaylan had never seen before. He took a step forward, his sword raised, ready to end this once and for all when the spell's power overtook him.
He writhed in agony as the powerful curse began to take shape, the blood flowing from the magical symbol up his boots, legs, and onto his chest. The blood seeped through his vest, ruining the fabric, but what was even more concerning was the symbol it began to draw on Khaylan's chest. His sword clattered to the ground, his mind so full of pain he couldn't even control his own body. The blood felt more like silver that had been heated to its melting point and poured onto his bare flesh.
He screamed. For how long, he didn't know. He only knew that the moment the witch ceased casting her spell, his vision began to blur and fade. And the last thing he heard before losing consciousness wasthe sound of her grating laughter.
"Damn you, witch!," Khaylan shouted, freeig his sword from its sheath at last. There might be no love lost between him and Miranda, but he would rather be damned than watch this witch victimize someone else. "She has nothing to do with this. You want me."
The witch however, had something in mind. Even as Khaylan tried to approach, she drove her impossibly sharp fingernails into Miranda's shoulder."The blood in this wench's veins will be your undoing, Khaylan," she said, and words of power echoed from her throat, the flowing blood dripping to the ground and forming some sort of symbol that Khaylan had never seen before. He took a step forward, his sword raised, ready to end this once and for all when the spell's power overtook him.
He writhed in agony as the powerful curse began to take shape, the blood flowing from the magical symbol up his boots, legs, and onto his chest. The blood seeped through his vest, ruining the fabric, but what was even more concerning was the symbol it began to draw on Khaylan's chest. His sword clattered to the ground, his mind so full of pain he couldn't even control his own body. The blood felt more like silver that had been heated to its melting point and poured onto his bare flesh.
He screamed. For how long, he didn't know. He only knew that the moment the witch ceased casting her spell, his vision began to blur and fade. And the last thing he heard before losing consciousness wasthe sound of her grating laughter.
Pacific time zone.
Next post from me is going to take a while, got called in to work an emergency shift for eight hours. Will work on post afterwards though.
"Don't kid yourself."
The color visibly drained from Khaylan's face as a hauntingly familiar voice split the air between him and Miranda. God, Gods, or Goddesses no..., he turned slowly, the strength and haughtiness seemingly sapped from him by the sheer presence of this new woman. She looked as though she had stepped directly from Khaylan's memories, every detail about her just as he remembered it, not even a strand of her inky black hair out of place.
He spoke a word... her name he thought, but the air itself seemed to curdle in disgust in front of his lips, snatching the word from the air and his mind simultaneously. He knew it made little difference, women like her were really only know by one name, after all.
"It's the witch!"
Both his brother knights stiffened, and hands flew to the pommels of their weapons. The witches eyes never left Khaylan however, those twin pits of abyssal darkness seemingly boring a whole straight through his physical form and driving a spear of cold directly into his soul. Few times in his short life had Khaylan ever truly felt fear, and this witch was responsible for two such times now.
"I'm not interested in the base tunes of ancient history, you trollop," the witch said coolly. "Your noble friend has wronged my honor, and I demand retribution."
~~~
Memories flooded into Khaylan's mind, though if they were his or the witches, he wasn't able to say. All of them shown with an eerie clarity, as though he were witnessing the events as a spirit standing off to the side rather than an active participant. He looked around, realizing that he was no longer standing within the village boundaries but rather, at a location he'd swore he'd never return to, even if the devil himself tried to drag him there. The lighting in the quaint little home was poor, but it only seemed to accentuate the sense of dark foreboding that emanated from the room itself. Around him where shelves full of all manner of strange ingredients, from foreign plants to the preserved bodies of unusual creatures, their shadows dancing in the shifting light from a few small candles carved with a series of symbols that almost hurt to look at. And there, in the middle of the room, was a younger version of himself, clad in the outfit of a blacksmiths apprentice.
You remember.... good, that will make your punishment so much sweeter...
Khaylan did remember. He watched history repeat itself as the younger version of himself called the witches name again and again, as though summoning her from one of the planes of hell. Eventually she appeared, stepping out from one of the back rooms and smiling such a seemingly innocent smile, her white teeth glinting in the light. Khaylan shouted at his younger self, so easily distracted by the hauntingly pretty face that he forgot he was looking at the smile of a cat who had just caught a plump mouse.
Events began to speed up, and Khaylan watched helplessly as his younger self forged the deal that would end up damning him. He had asked for the one thing every peasant wished they could attain in life, noblility. Next to such a prize, her price seemed like a paltry thing indeed. The promise that once he'd become the knight he'd wanted so desperately to be he would agree to marry her so she too could enjoy the benefits of being nobility. Time slowed down to a crawl as the agreement was made, a simplle nod of his younger self's head being all that it took to seal his fate.
Events sped back up again, and Khaylan's memory became fuzzy, he watched the witch prepare some sort of spell, handing him an odd potion to drink. He remembered how the liquid had crawled down his throat ad saturated his entire body with an unnatural heat that made him feel as though he were burning alive. A soft caress of her hand, and the fire was gone, replaced instead by something else.
Khaylan's younger self approached the witch, his eyes glazed over with the same inky blackness that matched her own. He took her in his arms, bearing them both to the floor as he leaned down and kissed her.
~~~
Khaylan collapsed to his knees, gasping for air as the vision faded. He glanced to each side, terrified he hadn't been the only one to see the vision, but if either of the knights had seen, they displayed no signs of it. Both men rushed to his side, hauling him back up onto his feet.
"Never fear my lord, we'll see this hag off," one of them said, and both advanced, drawing their weapons. The witch looked almost bored by their actions, lifting a single slender hand in reply. The air twisted in protest to some unknown force, and both men froze in place as though time had stopped for them.
Khaylan stared at the witch in a mix of hatred and fear, his own sword half-drawn from his scabbard. He wanted to run, though if it was to charge the witch or get away from her, he couldn't say. It was all he could do just to maintain eye contact with her. Still, bravado had a way of showing itself even when courage itself was gone.
"What do you want here woman?," Khaylan said, his hand still on the hilt of his sword, "if you want revenge then come and take it, but don't expect me to die easily. I'll send us both to hell before I let you spread your corruption."
The color visibly drained from Khaylan's face as a hauntingly familiar voice split the air between him and Miranda. God, Gods, or Goddesses no..., he turned slowly, the strength and haughtiness seemingly sapped from him by the sheer presence of this new woman. She looked as though she had stepped directly from Khaylan's memories, every detail about her just as he remembered it, not even a strand of her inky black hair out of place.
He spoke a word... her name he thought, but the air itself seemed to curdle in disgust in front of his lips, snatching the word from the air and his mind simultaneously. He knew it made little difference, women like her were really only know by one name, after all.
"It's the witch!"
Both his brother knights stiffened, and hands flew to the pommels of their weapons. The witches eyes never left Khaylan however, those twin pits of abyssal darkness seemingly boring a whole straight through his physical form and driving a spear of cold directly into his soul. Few times in his short life had Khaylan ever truly felt fear, and this witch was responsible for two such times now.
"I'm not interested in the base tunes of ancient history, you trollop," the witch said coolly. "Your noble friend has wronged my honor, and I demand retribution."
~~~
Memories flooded into Khaylan's mind, though if they were his or the witches, he wasn't able to say. All of them shown with an eerie clarity, as though he were witnessing the events as a spirit standing off to the side rather than an active participant. He looked around, realizing that he was no longer standing within the village boundaries but rather, at a location he'd swore he'd never return to, even if the devil himself tried to drag him there. The lighting in the quaint little home was poor, but it only seemed to accentuate the sense of dark foreboding that emanated from the room itself. Around him where shelves full of all manner of strange ingredients, from foreign plants to the preserved bodies of unusual creatures, their shadows dancing in the shifting light from a few small candles carved with a series of symbols that almost hurt to look at. And there, in the middle of the room, was a younger version of himself, clad in the outfit of a blacksmiths apprentice.
You remember.... good, that will make your punishment so much sweeter...
Khaylan did remember. He watched history repeat itself as the younger version of himself called the witches name again and again, as though summoning her from one of the planes of hell. Eventually she appeared, stepping out from one of the back rooms and smiling such a seemingly innocent smile, her white teeth glinting in the light. Khaylan shouted at his younger self, so easily distracted by the hauntingly pretty face that he forgot he was looking at the smile of a cat who had just caught a plump mouse.
Events began to speed up, and Khaylan watched helplessly as his younger self forged the deal that would end up damning him. He had asked for the one thing every peasant wished they could attain in life, noblility. Next to such a prize, her price seemed like a paltry thing indeed. The promise that once he'd become the knight he'd wanted so desperately to be he would agree to marry her so she too could enjoy the benefits of being nobility. Time slowed down to a crawl as the agreement was made, a simplle nod of his younger self's head being all that it took to seal his fate.
Events sped back up again, and Khaylan's memory became fuzzy, he watched the witch prepare some sort of spell, handing him an odd potion to drink. He remembered how the liquid had crawled down his throat ad saturated his entire body with an unnatural heat that made him feel as though he were burning alive. A soft caress of her hand, and the fire was gone, replaced instead by something else.
Khaylan's younger self approached the witch, his eyes glazed over with the same inky blackness that matched her own. He took her in his arms, bearing them both to the floor as he leaned down and kissed her.
~~~
Khaylan collapsed to his knees, gasping for air as the vision faded. He glanced to each side, terrified he hadn't been the only one to see the vision, but if either of the knights had seen, they displayed no signs of it. Both men rushed to his side, hauling him back up onto his feet.
"Never fear my lord, we'll see this hag off," one of them said, and both advanced, drawing their weapons. The witch looked almost bored by their actions, lifting a single slender hand in reply. The air twisted in protest to some unknown force, and both men froze in place as though time had stopped for them.
Khaylan stared at the witch in a mix of hatred and fear, his own sword half-drawn from his scabbard. He wanted to run, though if it was to charge the witch or get away from her, he couldn't say. It was all he could do just to maintain eye contact with her. Still, bravado had a way of showing itself even when courage itself was gone.
"What do you want here woman?," Khaylan said, his hand still on the hilt of his sword, "if you want revenge then come and take it, but don't expect me to die easily. I'll send us both to hell before I let you spread your corruption."
I think I have an idea, I'l, try to post tonight
Gonna apologize ahead of time, im fighting off a bad cold and so im a little scatterbrained at the moment. EDIT: just read your latest post, awesome dramatic entrance.
Hmmm... all could work, though I like the one where the witch is the reason he's a noble the best. Lends a kind of irony to the situation.
That begs the question in what way did she help him become a noble...
Could combine it with the previous idea, sex for nobility? Marriage?
Which in turn could lead into the upcoming encounter, and his refusal to follow through, so she damns him to die just like the peasants he pretends to be so far above?
Hmmm... all could work, though I like the one where the witch is the reason he's a noble the best. Lends a kind of irony to the situation.
That begs the question in what way did she help him become a noble...
Could combine it with the previous idea, sex for nobility? Marriage?
Which in turn could lead into the upcoming encounter, and his refusal to follow through, so she damns him to die just like the peasants he pretends to be so far above?
A short pos, but I'm just passing the time until we get to the dungeon area. *cue dramatic music*
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