TIMESTAMP: 19th Solace, Glade 4622 - 20:33
NOTES: Open me!
NOTES: Open me!
► Show Spoiler
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The sun had set for the day in Amoren, though the moon hadn't risen very high in the sky– the night was yet still young. Arkash had left about thirty minutes earlier to go find something, or rather, somebody, to eat and so Degare was left to his own devices for the time being. Despite having lived near to his entire life as an introverted loner, the past month or so had really done a number on him mentally…and now that his little lover had returned, he found their time spent apart to be somewhat difficult to manage.
He found it difficult to quell the anxiety that was rising within him now that the Rathor had left to go hunt. It’s not that he doubted the other’s combat prowess, no…it was more that he was concerned about whomever Raphael had inevitably hired to track down the young Dranoch. It would definitely be somebody of the Halamire, but whom? How powerful? Of what Rank? These questions swirled ‘round and ‘round in the Ferrier’s head and he was struggling to quiet his thoughts. He really needed a distraction of some sort. It would be fine. Tragedy wouldn’t strike so soon.
Getting up from the desk at which he sat, the Veir left the study he was in and roamed the halls of his estate to find his closest Valran, Lucia. He found the woman holed up in her chambers reading as was fairly common for her. His abrupt entry and lack of a knock startled her. With a raise of her brow, “Yes, my Veir…? You could at least extend me the courtesy of knocking,” her silky voice rings with a soft playfulness– she doesn’t really care that much. “Sorry…but I’ve a need to go out and I would prefer not to prowl the streets past sunset alone, I trust you are not busy?” He spoke with a small laugh at the start, clearly aware of the fact that she’s unbothered. “You? Go out? For what?” The woman asks these questions pointedly with a teasing tone. “Entertainment– I’d like to try the one Blood Magic technique Arkash told me of that I’ve yet to cast and for that I need…a disposable, warm body. Anyone will do, really, but we’d best choose a vagrant or wanderer nobody’ll miss.” His words are casual and light despite the fact that he’s blatantly admitting to planning some poor soul’s murder. At that, Lucia laughs, “Really? Just spur of the moment, huh? Not that I’d be one to complain…I’d love to watch you cast…whatever it is you’re planning.” The woman’s voice is steeped in curiosity and a bright fascination with whatever the Veir was planning. The two of them were oddly cheery given their intent.
Lucia rose from her seat, found some sturdy shoes to put on and the two Sil’Norai would take off into the cool Glade night. A gentle breeze rode through the streets of the city as the two wandered through cobbled paths, rustling the leaves of the trees as they passed. The atmosphere in Amoren was fairly calm and silent, almost peaceful. Unfortunately, many hunters roamed these streets. These two Entente, for one, the aforementioned Dranoch as well and probably many more. Daravin was not the very safest of places to be at any given time.
The Veir and his companion didn’t have to wander far to see a person stirring in a quiet alley. With nobody else around, he figured this was as good of an opportunity as any. As far as he could tell, the young vagrant was fast asleep. First, Degare started with a pulse of ether into his palm. Manifesting the Pathos of Hush, he allowed a few drops of the substance to drip onto the skin of the sleeping figure. He did not wake and it’d not take much time for a master Ferrier’s Banes to work. Second, he used a small additional amount of ether to create three Tethers from the same palm and grabbed the young man’s wrist. This was more or less to hide his Tethers as they’d pass through his skin, up his arm and into his brain entirely internally provided Degare did not let go of him.
Along with a channel of Minstrel into his unfortunate victim, the pale elf shakes the other awake. At first he looks surprised– but then, he appears calm, almost serene. In this case, the Ferrier had used Minstrel to channel passivity. He wanted the man to be quiet and cooperative. “Don’t worry…you’ve nothing to fear. I’ll end your suffering, promise…” he speaks with a trail and an odd tone to his voice; it sounded darkly sardonic yet at the same time reassuring.
Given that he is affected by Hush, the younger man is entirely incapable of responding but he appeared cooperative from the influence of the Tethers and rose alongside the elven Veir. Lucia had been standing nearby, ready to act if her attention was required. Luckily, it wasn’t. The two Entente now made their way back to their estate with their tragic captive in tow.
Once the pair of elves and their new companion passed through the threshold and the door closed with a click, the female elf moved to lock it. “Lucia, love– get me a large basin and some rope, will you? Meet me in the, ah…kitchen I suppose. Only place in the house with hooks on the ceiling,” he tacked on that last part with a shrug. The woman canted her head and raised a brow, not entirely knowing where this was going but she was happy to oblige. Whatever her Veir wanted, of course…well, that, and she does love a good surprise.
Degare himself led their captive to the kitchen of the manor and leaned up against a wall in wait while the younger man just stood there with a calm, placid expression. His Mural within was the picture of serenity and there was something undeniably tantalizing to the Veir about seeing such a thing yet knowing that the other was bound for a brutal fate. It didn’t take his loyal Valran much time to return with his requested items. When she did, he directed her to place it underneath one of the hooks that hung from the ceiling nearer to the far wall of the kitchen area. Such a thing was usually used to hang dried meats and so forth– it was sturdy and would serve their purpose just as well. Humans were just meat, after all.
At this point since the Ferrier had let go of his captive’s arm, the tethers were visible– bright, prismatic and ethereal in their shimmering purple hue. Degare approached the younger man and manifested the Pathos of Sap this time, letting it drip onto the other’s skin. While this would override his Hush, he didn’t need the silence anymore. He just wanted the other to be weak and easily manipulated. After a few short ticks of the clock, the man appeared to struggle to stand, collapsing shortly thereafter.
Once he’d fallen, the elven Veir moved to securely bind the man’s ankles to the rope his Valran had brought and strung it up securely around the ceiling’s hook. Then, he took the loose end of the rope and pulled– effectively hanging his captive upside down. Once he had been adequately raised from the floor, Degare strode over to the heaviest thing in the room and tied off the rope. While this was very much unplanned, it worked out quite well thus far. For a final touch to his setup, the pale elf dragged the basin over and centered it beneath the head of the hanged man.
Finally, everything was ready. Thankfully due to Sap, the Vandikar could dispel his use of Minstrel from his victim without worrying about his squirming or resistance messing anything up. A master Ferrier’s Sap is quite a cruel thing. Moving to stand in front of his victim, he watched his Mentalism fade from the man and saw confusion and fear begin to rise in the stranger’s eyes as his mind began to properly internalize the bizarre scenario he’d now found himself in. Degare simply laughs. “Aww…you needn’t look so alarmed. Everything will be over soon, don’t you worry,” his voice is soft and gentle yet at the same time cruel and impish. A delighted smile drew itself across his face as he saw the man's Mural shift and twist as the primal nature of fear truly began to creep in.
The young vagrant tried to speak but only succeeded in making some fragments of words and unintelligible attempts at sentences. The Sap combined with him being upside down and scared out of his mind must have made it quite difficult for him to say anything that even resembled coherency. With a satisfied hum, the Veir’s right arm is engulfed in smoky shadow as bright, purplish arcane runes snake across the now blackened skin. After a moment or so, armored plates would grow over his shoulder and blades emerged from the second knuckle on each finger of that hand; he had deployed a Corvo’s Shaper. The captive man’s eyes only widened, brows raising in further terror– he had absolutely no idea what was happening, he only knew that the Entente man before him was an utter monster.
With soft, languid steps the Vandikar closed the distance between himself and his victim. Pressing the blade from his thumb against the other’s throat, the silver elf pauses. His captive is trembling in fear, drenched in cold sweat– his expression is that of abject terror. A sadistic, malicious grin pulls at the corners of the Veir’s lips growing broad and revealing teeth. Oh, the delight he took in things like this was so very intense. Tantalizing as it was, he couldn’t help but wait just a few minutes longer to drink deep of the pathetic man’s horror.
After what must have felt like a terrible, nightmarish eternity for the hanged man, Degare presses the blade into his flesh. Digging it in deep, he finally began to perform the grim ritual of Sacrifice. The drag of his claw was painfully, dreadfully slow. Each second that past caused the other’s panic to rise evermore, heartbeat audible and breathing erratic and haggard. The elven Veir couldn’t help but laugh, giddy in the divinity of the joy that radiated through him as each second ticked past.
Eventually, the drag of his blade ceased and he removed his hand, now drenched in the carmine essence of his sacrifice. Immediately, he began to Leech the blood. A soft, pleased moan is pulled from his lips as he realizes that he was, indeed, successful in this performance of Sacrifice. The additional Blight he was able to create was immensely satisfying in the sheer volume of it along with the fact that the act alone made him feel so very powerful.
Along with a gentle hum, the silver elf stepped back to watch the unfortunate, hanging soul bleed. He would choke and attempt to flail in a vain show of resistance as his life began to fade from his eyes. One's death throes were such a beautiful thing. The blood flowed forth in a beautiful fall of crimson– in some perverse way, it reminded him of Boghadar’s waterfalls. Taking a moment to glance over at his Valran– she who had been notably silent this entire time– the woman looked nearly as pleased as he does.
With a face the picture of delight, Lucia spoke, “As lovely as this display is, what is it for? I simply must know.” Her voice is vibrant, almost musical in her expression of curiosity. Eyes of red-amber once again thoroughly fixated on the flow of blood, “Arkash explained it to me as something called ‘Sacrifice.’ I can draw a large amount of additional Blight from the blood that spews forth using this method as opposed to standard Leeching…I hadn’t had anyone to practice this on before and I figured…why not occupy my evening by trying it out?” His tone was somehow even more radiant than hers.
- - -
The sun had set for the day in Amoren, though the moon hadn't risen very high in the sky– the night was yet still young. Arkash had left about thirty minutes earlier to go find something, or rather, somebody, to eat and so Degare was left to his own devices for the time being. Despite having lived near to his entire life as an introverted loner, the past month or so had really done a number on him mentally…and now that his little lover had returned, he found their time spent apart to be somewhat difficult to manage.
He found it difficult to quell the anxiety that was rising within him now that the Rathor had left to go hunt. It’s not that he doubted the other’s combat prowess, no…it was more that he was concerned about whomever Raphael had inevitably hired to track down the young Dranoch. It would definitely be somebody of the Halamire, but whom? How powerful? Of what Rank? These questions swirled ‘round and ‘round in the Ferrier’s head and he was struggling to quiet his thoughts. He really needed a distraction of some sort. It would be fine. Tragedy wouldn’t strike so soon.
Getting up from the desk at which he sat, the Veir left the study he was in and roamed the halls of his estate to find his closest Valran, Lucia. He found the woman holed up in her chambers reading as was fairly common for her. His abrupt entry and lack of a knock startled her. With a raise of her brow, “Yes, my Veir…? You could at least extend me the courtesy of knocking,” her silky voice rings with a soft playfulness– she doesn’t really care that much. “Sorry…but I’ve a need to go out and I would prefer not to prowl the streets past sunset alone, I trust you are not busy?” He spoke with a small laugh at the start, clearly aware of the fact that she’s unbothered. “You? Go out? For what?” The woman asks these questions pointedly with a teasing tone. “Entertainment– I’d like to try the one Blood Magic technique Arkash told me of that I’ve yet to cast and for that I need…a disposable, warm body. Anyone will do, really, but we’d best choose a vagrant or wanderer nobody’ll miss.” His words are casual and light despite the fact that he’s blatantly admitting to planning some poor soul’s murder. At that, Lucia laughs, “Really? Just spur of the moment, huh? Not that I’d be one to complain…I’d love to watch you cast…whatever it is you’re planning.” The woman’s voice is steeped in curiosity and a bright fascination with whatever the Veir was planning. The two of them were oddly cheery given their intent.
Lucia rose from her seat, found some sturdy shoes to put on and the two Sil’Norai would take off into the cool Glade night. A gentle breeze rode through the streets of the city as the two wandered through cobbled paths, rustling the leaves of the trees as they passed. The atmosphere in Amoren was fairly calm and silent, almost peaceful. Unfortunately, many hunters roamed these streets. These two Entente, for one, the aforementioned Dranoch as well and probably many more. Daravin was not the very safest of places to be at any given time.
The Veir and his companion didn’t have to wander far to see a person stirring in a quiet alley. With nobody else around, he figured this was as good of an opportunity as any. As far as he could tell, the young vagrant was fast asleep. First, Degare started with a pulse of ether into his palm. Manifesting the Pathos of Hush, he allowed a few drops of the substance to drip onto the skin of the sleeping figure. He did not wake and it’d not take much time for a master Ferrier’s Banes to work. Second, he used a small additional amount of ether to create three Tethers from the same palm and grabbed the young man’s wrist. This was more or less to hide his Tethers as they’d pass through his skin, up his arm and into his brain entirely internally provided Degare did not let go of him.
Along with a channel of Minstrel into his unfortunate victim, the pale elf shakes the other awake. At first he looks surprised– but then, he appears calm, almost serene. In this case, the Ferrier had used Minstrel to channel passivity. He wanted the man to be quiet and cooperative. “Don’t worry…you’ve nothing to fear. I’ll end your suffering, promise…” he speaks with a trail and an odd tone to his voice; it sounded darkly sardonic yet at the same time reassuring.
Given that he is affected by Hush, the younger man is entirely incapable of responding but he appeared cooperative from the influence of the Tethers and rose alongside the elven Veir. Lucia had been standing nearby, ready to act if her attention was required. Luckily, it wasn’t. The two Entente now made their way back to their estate with their tragic captive in tow.
Once the pair of elves and their new companion passed through the threshold and the door closed with a click, the female elf moved to lock it. “Lucia, love– get me a large basin and some rope, will you? Meet me in the, ah…kitchen I suppose. Only place in the house with hooks on the ceiling,” he tacked on that last part with a shrug. The woman canted her head and raised a brow, not entirely knowing where this was going but she was happy to oblige. Whatever her Veir wanted, of course…well, that, and she does love a good surprise.
Degare himself led their captive to the kitchen of the manor and leaned up against a wall in wait while the younger man just stood there with a calm, placid expression. His Mural within was the picture of serenity and there was something undeniably tantalizing to the Veir about seeing such a thing yet knowing that the other was bound for a brutal fate. It didn’t take his loyal Valran much time to return with his requested items. When she did, he directed her to place it underneath one of the hooks that hung from the ceiling nearer to the far wall of the kitchen area. Such a thing was usually used to hang dried meats and so forth– it was sturdy and would serve their purpose just as well. Humans were just meat, after all.
At this point since the Ferrier had let go of his captive’s arm, the tethers were visible– bright, prismatic and ethereal in their shimmering purple hue. Degare approached the younger man and manifested the Pathos of Sap this time, letting it drip onto the other’s skin. While this would override his Hush, he didn’t need the silence anymore. He just wanted the other to be weak and easily manipulated. After a few short ticks of the clock, the man appeared to struggle to stand, collapsing shortly thereafter.
Once he’d fallen, the elven Veir moved to securely bind the man’s ankles to the rope his Valran had brought and strung it up securely around the ceiling’s hook. Then, he took the loose end of the rope and pulled– effectively hanging his captive upside down. Once he had been adequately raised from the floor, Degare strode over to the heaviest thing in the room and tied off the rope. While this was very much unplanned, it worked out quite well thus far. For a final touch to his setup, the pale elf dragged the basin over and centered it beneath the head of the hanged man.
Finally, everything was ready. Thankfully due to Sap, the Vandikar could dispel his use of Minstrel from his victim without worrying about his squirming or resistance messing anything up. A master Ferrier’s Sap is quite a cruel thing. Moving to stand in front of his victim, he watched his Mentalism fade from the man and saw confusion and fear begin to rise in the stranger’s eyes as his mind began to properly internalize the bizarre scenario he’d now found himself in. Degare simply laughs. “Aww…you needn’t look so alarmed. Everything will be over soon, don’t you worry,” his voice is soft and gentle yet at the same time cruel and impish. A delighted smile drew itself across his face as he saw the man's Mural shift and twist as the primal nature of fear truly began to creep in.
The young vagrant tried to speak but only succeeded in making some fragments of words and unintelligible attempts at sentences. The Sap combined with him being upside down and scared out of his mind must have made it quite difficult for him to say anything that even resembled coherency. With a satisfied hum, the Veir’s right arm is engulfed in smoky shadow as bright, purplish arcane runes snake across the now blackened skin. After a moment or so, armored plates would grow over his shoulder and blades emerged from the second knuckle on each finger of that hand; he had deployed a Corvo’s Shaper. The captive man’s eyes only widened, brows raising in further terror– he had absolutely no idea what was happening, he only knew that the Entente man before him was an utter monster.
With soft, languid steps the Vandikar closed the distance between himself and his victim. Pressing the blade from his thumb against the other’s throat, the silver elf pauses. His captive is trembling in fear, drenched in cold sweat– his expression is that of abject terror. A sadistic, malicious grin pulls at the corners of the Veir’s lips growing broad and revealing teeth. Oh, the delight he took in things like this was so very intense. Tantalizing as it was, he couldn’t help but wait just a few minutes longer to drink deep of the pathetic man’s horror.
After what must have felt like a terrible, nightmarish eternity for the hanged man, Degare presses the blade into his flesh. Digging it in deep, he finally began to perform the grim ritual of Sacrifice. The drag of his claw was painfully, dreadfully slow. Each second that past caused the other’s panic to rise evermore, heartbeat audible and breathing erratic and haggard. The elven Veir couldn’t help but laugh, giddy in the divinity of the joy that radiated through him as each second ticked past.
Eventually, the drag of his blade ceased and he removed his hand, now drenched in the carmine essence of his sacrifice. Immediately, he began to Leech the blood. A soft, pleased moan is pulled from his lips as he realizes that he was, indeed, successful in this performance of Sacrifice. The additional Blight he was able to create was immensely satisfying in the sheer volume of it along with the fact that the act alone made him feel so very powerful.
Along with a gentle hum, the silver elf stepped back to watch the unfortunate, hanging soul bleed. He would choke and attempt to flail in a vain show of resistance as his life began to fade from his eyes. One's death throes were such a beautiful thing. The blood flowed forth in a beautiful fall of crimson– in some perverse way, it reminded him of Boghadar’s waterfalls. Taking a moment to glance over at his Valran– she who had been notably silent this entire time– the woman looked nearly as pleased as he does.
With a face the picture of delight, Lucia spoke, “As lovely as this display is, what is it for? I simply must know.” Her voice is vibrant, almost musical in her expression of curiosity. Eyes of red-amber once again thoroughly fixated on the flow of blood, “Arkash explained it to me as something called ‘Sacrifice.’ I can draw a large amount of additional Blight from the blood that spews forth using this method as opposed to standard Leeching…I hadn’t had anyone to practice this on before and I figured…why not occupy my evening by trying it out?” His tone was somehow even more radiant than hers.
____
'Thoughts'
"Common Tongue/Speech"
"Raillen Tongue/Speech"
"Silvain Tongue/Speech"
'Thoughts'
"Common Tongue/Speech"
"Raillen Tongue/Speech"
"Silvain Tongue/Speech"
