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  1. #11
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    DarkDelights's Avatar

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    Name
    the Witch
    Age
    25
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    Human
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    Corone

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    She held out her dainty limb to receive treatment. No infection would set in, it was certain, but one had to keep up appearances. The old mage tended her wound carefully and she put on a mask of gratitude.

    “Pay me? You must be joking, kind sir. After all you have done for me already?”

    She listened eagerly to his tale but sensed he was deliberately not being very forthcoming with information. Still, what little he presented she accepted at face value.

    “It sounds like you put yourself at great risk for this... temple you serve.” It seemed odd that there was no deity tied to the temple he mentioned. It must have been something quite secret indeed, as most clerics would not miss a chance to boast their god's name. Still, she was glad he hadn't said anything of the sort. She found waxing religious to be the most boring form of conversation and took great pains to avoid it. There were no further questions about the nature of the temple the Overmage served.

    “Say, to pass the time, why don't we play a game! Its so rare for me to entertain guests, I absolutely must take advantage! Hmm, but what game shall we play? That's the question! Hmm, how about... I spy?” she looked about, adjusting the flower in her hair as her large, almond-shaped eyes scanned the marshland.

    The causeway that they followed was of packed earth that rose up several feet above the swamp which ran parallel to the road, and stretched out in either direction as far as the eye could see. A yellow and purple dragonfly flitted about close by, landing on lily pads from time to time in its search for something to eat. The air was alive with the ambient noise of such creatures, with the occasional crash and splash of something larger in the distance. The trees had diversified from the road, although willows were still a common sight. More commonplace than trees though, were the thorny tangles of briars that often crept along the slope of the road. They rustled occasionally, as all manner of creature sought safety under the barbed vines. Flowers bloomed here and there, but the witch knew that deeper in, traces of color would start to dull in favor of shades of pale green, brown, and grey. She smiled at the thought.

    “No no, that won't do at all. Such games would hardly challenge a man of your advanced wisdom,” she mused, tapping her index finger on her chin as the duo resumed travelling. “How about... truth or dare?” she said, smiling, guessing that she had probably just grabbed the gentleman's attention.

    The young woman arched her eyebrows, looking side-long at the spellcaster. He was not so bad looking... for a human male. She felt the stirrings of cruel impulses, but quickly pushed them back down. It was still early in the morning, and far too soon for such often-bloody activity.

    “No, no, that won't do either,” she said, playing the tease. “A man of your stature must be stimulated intellectually! How childish of me,” she said, jokingly bowing her head in shame. She looked down at her black slippers, picking her path gracefully over the somewhat uneven ground. The two were silent for a short time. A black beetle with dangerous looking pincers crawled up one side of the embankment, and the witch trod on it with a crunch. No beetle goo stuck to her clean black slippers, but past the illusion, she felt every delightful crack of the mindless insect's carapace shattering and its vitals being forced out between the breaks. Its slime and sharp shards of exoskeleton clung to her bare heel, but the glamor kept it secret, like the thrill of not wearing any underwear.

    “Aha! I know!” she proclaimed, breaking the silence excitedly. The witch spun on her heel, turning to face the mage, and further mushing the innards plastered to her heel. “We shall play, two truths, and a lie! A game I played once or twice as a child, but should still pose a challenge to your perception. Its really simple! I am going to make three statements about myself . As per the title of the game, two of them will be very much the truth! One of them will be, naturally, a lie. It is up to you to determine which of them is the lie!” she clapped her hands delightedly. “This will be so much fun!” She bounced on her toes which made her endowments heave in a way known to catch the male eye.

    “Okay, I've got it. The first statement,” she paused for dramatic effect. “In my youth, I... was a ballerina! I practiced hard, morning, noon, and night, and I was quite good at it, I don't mind saying!”

    She took Archanex's arm affectionately. It was nearly a shame that her companion was doomed to die screaming in the marsh. The witch was enjoying herself.

    “The second. I come from a wealthy family! My father was one of the greatest lawyers money could buy. My mother purchased wonderous treasures from far away cultures, and sold them at auction for profit. I had the finest education, and servants to meet my every whim!”

    She looked sidelong again, and up, seeking out the mage's eyes with her own. She wondered which he would guess.

    “The third... I have three fathers, when most only have one! Can you believe that I have three, and not one!? Well! What is your guess, Sir Mage? Oh please, I'm just dying to know! If you choose correctly,” she paused again, considering, with her typical chin-tapping gesture, “Oh, I know! If you choose correctly, I will sing you a song! One very dear to my heart!” If anything, that was the lie. Nothing was dear to her heart. “If you guess incorrectly... Hmm...” She pondered again. “Well, then you must tell me a secret! One that you have never told another! We all have such a secret Sir Mage, after all.”

    The hikers travelled on, putting the morning behind them. The seemingly vibrant girl looked over and up once again, not sidelong, but directly this time, meeting the much larger mans eyes squarely and devoid of any reservations.

    “Well, what's your guess!?”
    Last edited by DarkDelights; 03-27-2020 at 07:23 AM.

  2. #12
    Adventurer

    EXP: 780, Level: 1
    Level completed: 39%, EXP required for next Level: 1,220
    Level completed: 39%,
    EXP required for next Level: 1,220


    Archanex's Avatar

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    120

    Name
    Archanex
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    N/A
    Race
    Overmage
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    Man
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    Raiaera

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    He was watching her closely the entire time, his expression was stoic he was going to see where this all went.

    Truth or dare now is it...I get the feeling she is trying to hard to play at something she is not. Archanex was merely guessing there, he had seen a lot and been through a lot in his old age to know a thing a two about dark intentions...yet he went along with the whole thing. The game intrigued him that much. He had nowhere near the grace that she had in her step so he had to walk much more carefully than she did.

    There were also half-truths in her words...he wondered about what she was saying. What she was choosing to tell to him. She's lived out here her whole life...by herself...she is hiding far more than what she appears here... He suddenly stopped walking at that point. "Truth or dare you say? I actually do enjoy a nice game of truth or dare." Archannex said...in the past he would have eagerly helped the woman to his death.

    But because of her...because of Miranda there was something else there now a different and far darker motivation. He thought of what Miranda, the mistress would have him do.

    He looked at her his expression was serious for a moment. "I think you were not from a wealthy family. The rest of what you are telling is probably half-truths if not out right lies." Archanex suddenly said hoping to throw her completely off guard. "You stated that you lived here in the marsh your entire life how can you come from a wealthy background? Truth or dare you say...it is my turn to tell you the same thing." He became suddenly very serious.

    "I am a hero." Archanex told the outright lie first...he wanted to have her be afraid of him...the moment of charades was over. "I have saved people my entire life."

    "The second thing, I have lived in libraries most of my adult life seeking knowledge and power." He said to her.

    "My people are from another planet, not originally from Althanas itself." He figured telling her the whole truth at that point would not matter anymore...there was something else going on there. She is after something else and it is not pleasant at all... His face was extremely serious at that point. "The damage to the bridge I saw earlier...that was you doing that was it not? You can be honest with me here its just me and you out here, no judges no law enforcement no one to persecute you." Archanex said with a serious tone. "I'm not sure why you would deliberately sabotage a bridge but the more I have gotten to know you the more I can only guess that it is an extremely bad intent you have here."

    The intent to cause harm and panic... The overmage took a step or two backwards. They had gone deep into the marsh at that point and he had not noticed up until that she was deliberately LEADING him someplace. "The person I am protecting trained me...to handle severe situations." Archanex explained at that point. "I know you have power within you. It is a gift of my people to know the arcane arts. Think on this after...I went along anyway with whatever you have planned." Archanex rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Your turn to guess which one of mine is the lie." I am a Hero...repeated itself in his head over and over. Miranda had already broken the old sorcerer long before the woman before him could ever have...he was used to pain.

  3. #13
    Newcomer


    DarkDelights's Avatar

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    Name
    the Witch
    Age
    25
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    Human
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    “Why sir, are you making fun of me?” she asked, tittering with laughter. “Are you telling me that you are the man in the moon? Sir Mage, you didn't even try, and sure as day is day and night is night, you are from this world and that is your lie. Do you think me a silly young thing to believe just any old fanciful tale?”

    She thought a moment about the things he had said, and the assumptions he made. There was a curious, flat change to her tone of voice.

    “I was born into a wealthy family, my father was a lawyer and my mother dealt in antiquities. I attended the Greenmire Girl's School, where I learned arithmetic, and poetry, and science, and dance. And what's more, sir mage, my father fell deeply in love with his aide, and the two were a scandal, but I gave him my blessing, as my mother was a shrew. They left together, after being wed in secret, and I alone knew where they went. I loved him so, and missed him dearly. Then, my mother remarried. So you see, in the end, I had three fathers. That's right, all three of my statements were the truth!”

    She veered unexpectedly and turned her back from the man she was with. The girl slowly traipsed down the side of the causeway which was becoming more and more overrun by foliage. Her eyes flared a nasty yellow in color.

    “Who are you to presume so much!?” she shouted over her shoulder, her mood taking an abrupt change for the worst. “I give you my trust and faith, and you accuse me of crime, and nefarious intention? WHO are you to presume so MUCH!?” she screeched, sobbing hysterically, and crocodile tears ran down her cheeks.

    She spun on her heel, now very near the water's edge. She glared up at the Overmage, still standing at the top of the causeway.

    “I had one desire, and that was to lead you to what you sought, and help you in turn as you helped me. Well I guess you are not the gentleman I thought you to be, with all your, your abruptness! Well know this, Sir Mage. Follow the road until dark when there is no more road to follow. Point yourself east, and continue through the swamp for another half of a day, and there you will find a forgotten building of ancient make, half sunk into the bog. Inside its walls, I am certain you will find what you seek. But I will not lead you to it. Our time has passed.”

    She took a step backwards, into the marsh. And another. She walked backwards a short way, until her form was completely hidden by a stubby, but thick-trunked dead tree. Her natural affiliation with the swamp would conceal her from sight from there.

    There was a few rapid footfalls, splashing through water, and a voice called on the winds, already sounding quite far away.

    “I never lied to you sir mage. I have lived in this swamp all my life. My truths were three, and it was only the game that was a lie, to grow closer to you, but now you have decreed by your unfairness, that it is not to be. So I leave you my brave Sir Mage. Good-bye.”

    More distant footsteps through the swamp.

    -

    She rejoined the road more than a mile ahead, certain she had made better time than Archanex, even off the battered road. It was thick with mud and there were no more stones to guarantee good footing. The witch had long ago abandoned her glamor in her anger. Her bare skin was exposed to the hot, humid afternoon air, and mosquitos buzzed near her in a swarm. She didn't bother to swat them from her back, and just itched her scalp absently. She picked a path through the muddy road with her bare feet, then stopped as quickly as she began. She smiled.

    Wagon tracks...

    Two deep ruts were carved into the mud. She followed them for many minutes. Not far up ahead, she saw a large object blocking the road. The witch crept up alongside. She peered in the back, but there was no one. All things were in place, and the entire lives of two humble farmers, at the height of their love, was filed neatly there. Next she peered onto the cracked and splintered wood of the drivers bench. There was blood, and lice wriggled in it.

    She maneuvered out front of the wagon, and still yolked securely to it were the withered husks of two immense draft horses, seemingly mummified alive. They both lay on their sides, one propped up on the other. She placed her hand on one of the dead beast's noses, and there was a crack from her light touch. It was as if something drank the meat from the miserable things and left behind naught but brittle bones and papery skin from which the horse's fur fell away easily.

    She covered her mouth with one hand as she explored the carnage. Not far away, a skeleton wearing a full body covering of distinct brassy scales lie face down in the muck. She gently turned it over and heard the ribcage creak and crack like the opening of an ancient wooden door. The once handsome face was emaciated and hollow. Gazing into the empty black sockets where only a crusted white puss remained, a pink tongue snaked from between the witch's black lips and into the husk's mouth as she planted a passionate kiss on the corpse. She groped the scaled head, and they crunched as she pressed her hands into it. A trickle of saliva bridged the gap between the two mouths as the witch pulled away, and she placed her stained index and thumb around one of Harchibald's sharper incisors and pulled. The tooth came free without any resistance.

    And from there, not far again was a once-white dress, now brown with distinct patterns of black spray. The dress was pocked with circular holes, the dried flesh beneath wrent. The corpse was impossibly thin. It still had its bonnet laced below the jaw, which was open wide in a final, lasting scream.

    She threw herself away from the scene, and brought her trembling hands to her face. They trembled with excitement.

    “Oh but my knight should see! See what the Kotaj takes for its tax! Hehehe! What will he say? What will he think? Will he know that I did it for him, so that he may pass this way unmolested by the Kotaj and it's hunger? Will he appreciate that it now slumbers in the bog, and the Great Sleeping Thing will now bother him not?”

    Her eyes narrowed.

    “No... no, he'll say 'she did this!' and point his finger. 'She is responsible!' he'll curse, but he will never even stop to think that it was all so he could pass safely.”

    He DESERVES what is coming to him.

    “Yes, my lord, he does. He does indeed. The Kotaj was too good of a fate for him. Let him find his trinket in your swamp. He'll never leave it alive!” She cackled, and the sound carried through the marsh. Then, calmed, she slid on her behind back into the swampwater and drew her body in so that only here eyes were visible above the surface, coming up occasionally for air. She drifted into an overhang of briars near the scene of the slaughter on the road, and waited for the Overmage to stumble on the scene of horror.
    Last edited by DarkDelights; 03-27-2020 at 09:52 AM.

  4. #14
    Adventurer

    EXP: 780, Level: 1
    Level completed: 39%, EXP required for next Level: 1,220
    Level completed: 39%,
    EXP required for next Level: 1,220


    Archanex's Avatar

    GP
    120

    Name
    Archanex
    Age
    N/A
    Race
    Overmage
    Gender
    Man
    Location
    Raiaera

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    "You must think me an idiot." He suddenly called to her. He had observed her mannerisms very carefully the entire time by that point. He noticed it before she thought he did...he was a smart guy for a reason. Books and cleverness had kept him alive that long and he would put it all the test. She was...guiding him to far off the road for it to be a coincidence. Archanex knew they had gone much deeper into the swam like area than intended, but he kept a considerable distance from her to be snared completely.

    "Next time...be more mindful of the prey you attempt to ensnare with your traps!" He knew things were off from the very beginning but she was someone who needed help...he figured by that point the wolf attack may have been engineered too. Probably for his own benefit. "So you know...I am spoken for." He called out to her, almost spitting that out. He turned to take his leave when...

    She is not responding back...she probably did not even hear me. He looked off in the direction she had ran to. Too far away from the main road for this to be a coincidence. I am going to go back home and report this mission a failure... He noticed she was not returning. You try too hard. He thought to himself...Still much to learn young one. He thought as he looked in her general direction. He was glad he had listened to is gut, but he stood there for a while longer seeing if she would come back from where ever she had run off too...no chance.

    He grinned. Probably better this way I would have not liked to have harmed her...too much... He looked up at the Dheathain sky. It was still late afternoon he could make it back to she safe house before it got too dark. "Until we meet again you bandage yourself on your own liar." He spat that out too, but grinned the whole time, he liked her. She had spunk even though she'd been faking it the whole time. "I have a lot to learn about Althanas women. Some are nice and some are not...but there is a lot of spice there for sure." He turned around and began to use his staff as a walking stick to get back on the main road...he would not follow her any longer to a certainly horrid fate.

    I'd rather sleep at night, thank you very much. He thought to himself...She ran off on her own so oh well. "Good bye friend...until we meet again young one." He said to her in the silent stillness. He almost partially regretted not having played along with her trap, whatever it may have been...there would be other times. He started to slowly walk back towards the main road. It would be a considerable hike, but he was strong and smart...he would make it back with good time.

    She ran off on her own... He smiled to himself...he'd won that battle.

  5. #15
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    DarkDelights's Avatar

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    Name
    the Witch
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    25
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    Human
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    Corone

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    Her belly was pressed firmly in the mud, but she was already filthy, and it didn't matter to her anymore. She arranged broken brass scales in front of her until the pattern suited her whim.

    The things that the marsh rememberssss... she crooned softly and in key. She wasn't going to get her big musical number, she knew.

    Time passed.

    She sat on the wagon driver's bench, reigns in hand.

    “THE BANDITS WILL NOT OVERTAKE US AS LONG AS I'M ALIVE! HEE-YA!” she snapped the reigns teathered to the dead horses. “Only a league to Passwind Gulch! Hee-ya! We can make it! We have to make it! Hold on!”

    Time passed.

    She pitched pebbles into the marsh, and a toad croaked its irriation and dived beneath the scummy surface.

    She sighed.

    Time passed.

    She stood up, and went around to the back of the wagon and collected a heavy, fluffy pink robe, cinching it around her waist with the matching tie.

    “Peter!” she screamed. “Peter this is rediculous, he's not fucking coming. I'm cold an I'm getting hungry. I'm not DOING this anymore,” she was on the brink of full-blown tears.

    "CUT!"

    The ringing of a bell.

    A man in a dapper vest, artist's beret, and a cashmere scarf wrapped once around his neck, trotted up the path.

    “Scarlett, baby, come on, we just have to wait a little longer, he'll be here, I promise. Come on, just wait a little longer,” the man put his hand tenderly and comfortingly on her shoulder. She smacked it away.

    She put her face less than an inch from his, and although he was taller, the anger present in her eyes put them on an even keel. She gesticulated wildly to accentuate every part of her statement. “I'm. Not. Fucking. Doing. THIS,” and she fled, leaving the director “Peter” alone. Nearly right after, a quintet of men in heavy grey make-up approached from the length of road that was yet unexplored.

    “Uh, hey Pete, our make-up is starting to come off,” their leader said timidly, not wanting to bother the director, but knowing that it would take a few hours to repair the special effects. A goopy fake eyeball hung from his socket, and he was still dripping with swamp water. Grey putty peeled from his forehead and cheek in sheets, exposing the clean, healthy skin beneath.

    Peter pressed his palm to his forehead and sighed.

    “Alright everyone, thats a wrap on scene 8, wagon massacre. Kotaj team, I need you to stick around. We need to talk about those bugs in the animatronics. Fuck. Where's casting! I want to talk to casting! Get them the hell out here! Where do you find these guys!? I told you we can't just take any schlub in off the street and stick him in a hundred-million dollar horror-drama! There needs to be screening!”

    -

    The actress peeled the long black eyelash off of her lid. It looked like the action would be painful, but she had done it a thousand times. She peeled the putty off her own cheeks and chest, dumping it in the trash bin beside the small desk with a large, well-lit mirror. She looked at herself. Her hair was dishevelled. Her big eyes were puffy and red from crying.

    You're a star. You worked hard to be here. You DESERVE to be here.

    Her pep-talk did nothing to staunch the tears that were coming on again. He hand moved subconciously over the black leather cover of the old book. She couldn't read the archaic writing on it, but one of the people in props and FX had told her that it translated to “Diary of a Witch.”

    “I wonder if you had days like this,” she asked the book. The book that inspired the entire cursed movie production. She shovelled a handful of peanut M&M's into her mouth and chewed with her mouth open. There was no one around in her dressing room to notice. She belched.

    Her delicate hand, now clean, slid into the pocket of her robe and produced a broad-screened Samsung. It lit up, and she thumbed through her contacts until she found the one she was looking for.

    “Simon. Yeah, its Scar. Terrible. YES, terrible. I quit. Call Marvel and ask them if they still want me. I DON'T FUCKING KNOW! Beg? GOD! I can't believe I turned that down. Why did you let me? I'm such an idiot. No. NO! I told you, I quit. I don't give a FUCK about contracts. MAKE IT HAPPEN!” she hung up angrily and put her head back in her hands.

    So much wasted time. So much wasted time.

    She picked up the ancient book off the desk, and opened it once more, but just like before, she couldn't read a word in it. By all accounts, it detailed the life of a tortured young woman, fighting a personal battle against pervasive evil that held her very soul in its grip. There were hand-drawn pictures, but they were disturbing and she couldn't bring herself to look at them for long. She slammed the cover closed and dumped the book into the bin with a *thud*. Sighing one final time, she composed herself. She walked into the small shower in her dressing room, cleaned all the gunk off her body, and began to get dressed.

    Outside the studio lot, the lights of her Mercedes flashed and the alarm beeped once. She got in and turned it on. She would put this entire ordeal behind her. She reminded herself that she was born to play the role of Black Widow. Marvel would call.

    As she rejoined the queue of LA traffic, she hummed to herself absentmindedly.

    The things the marsh rememberssss...




    ((Well, this ended abruptly. The Witch contracted a new disease.

    Lesser Rabies - The central nervous system is attacked by wracking pain, and the mind is fogged. Only violent impulses remain clear. Unlike Greater Rabies, this disease is easily curable with bed rest and water (which most victims will not accept willingly and they must be forced to drink or hydrated interveinously. Any character described as having even slightly above average constitution, fortitude, or health, fails to contract the disease.

    Onset - 1 full day in game
    Transmission - Saliva (bite)
    Effect - Intense feelings of aggression and difficulty preforming non-violent tasks.
    Cure - 1 day bedrest and appropriate hydration
    Applicable skill for diagnosis - healing, herbalism, animal lore

    Thank you for your time))
    Last edited by DarkDelights; 03-28-2020 at 03:57 AM. Reason: Forgot to yell "Cut!"

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