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Post by Tyme on Aug 1, 2008 13:24:42 GMT -5
(ooc:Anyone may join xD the more the merrier)
Trichitza drifted around a crippled old man. Her face was parted in glee as she watched him start writhing and screaming. She hadn¡¯t done this in a while. Her fingers twisted and pulled at invisible strings causing him to scream even louder. But no mortal would here this man¡¯s cries. She¡¯d put a simple spell around the house so that no one would find him until after she had left the house. Of course if an immortal chose to bother her she couldn¡¯t do too much about it.
She was hoping she¡¯d lure Laranna into here. Children of Grangia were always fun to tease. They were all so sweet, like innocent butterflies. But Laranna perplexed her when she left a screaming mortal after she¡¯d darted in front of their eyes. After all that was torture. Seeing Laranna herself while they were dying. Laranna, and she didn¡¯t help them. Trichitza continued pulling at the invisible puppet strings her eyes lazily eyeing the door to see if any self-righteous immortal decided to barge in.
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Post by Duckling! on Aug 1, 2008 15:41:59 GMT -5
The door opened. Keziah surveyed the room with disaste. Trichitza, that disgusting daughter of Malar, torturing a mortal who certainly didn't deserve it. She'd never liked the demigoddess of torture, and she pitied the poor man. Collecting herself, she entered.
"Really," the necromancer said haughtily, taking a seat, "torturing cripples and old men now, Trichitza? I'm sure Uncle will be so proud." She made a gesture with her hand, and the mortal sagged to the ground, unconscious.
"I hate to ruin your fun," she added,"but there are more important things to attend to."
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Post by arrasailsup on Aug 2, 2008 0:11:05 GMT -5
Children of Grangria weren't the only ones sweet and innocent as butterflies. A certain adopted daughter of the god of death was like that too. At least, that was what everyone thought.
The door swung open again, much more slowly this time, as if the person outside was nervous. A delicate pale face peered in, silver eyes open and curious.
"Keziah?" Kythela asked uncertainly, tucking a stray lock of raven hair behind her ears. Her silver gaze darted to the unconscious mortal, back to the falcon demigoddess, then to Malar's little girl.
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Post by Tyme on Aug 2, 2008 13:53:49 GMT -5
"Daddy is the god of pain you know," Trichitza replied staring mournfully at the cripple that was now splayed on the floor. Trichitza couldn't actually kill mortals. it was a strange flaw. She could torture them for eternity but they wouldn't actually die. Of course if she made it go on for long enough someone usually took pity on them and shot them or the person themself committed suicide.
"What do you want?" she asked a twinge of annoyance peppering her words. Keziah, Freckle's librarian. As boring as the god of death himself. She idly twirled a lock of one of her red hilights around her finger looking at Keziah as she waited for her reply. Her eyes swiveled to the door when she saw silver eyes peek in. Kythela. Great. The little dreamy butterfly that Freckle's adopted after his daughter's death. She did wonder what happened to that brat named Shata and her son.
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Post by Duckling! on Aug 2, 2008 14:14:59 GMT -5
"He has taste," she retorted. She had to wonder whether that was the truth thought; Trichitza did know Malar better than she did. Perhaps Malar would do something as tasteless and petty as torturing a helpless mortal. The thought troubled her. Such an act lacked...style.
"I wanted to remind you of your priorities," Keziah answered, ignoring the irritation in the demigoddess's tone. "The conquest of Silva is hardly aided by a few old men twitching in pain." She tapped her fingers on the table, adding snidely, "Or has that slipped your mind?"
She turned her head towards the door, hearing the sound of footsteps. "Kythela," she said. Why did the brat had to intrude now, while she had everything under control? She could only hope that Kythela hadn't heard her last words and that the girl wouldn't have the sense to report it to Frackleth.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, striving for calm.
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Post by alvin on Aug 2, 2008 17:41:37 GMT -5
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Post by arrasailsup on Aug 3, 2008 0:34:19 GMT -5
((No worries!))
Kythela blinked at Keziah strangely, her silver eyes clouding over. "I wasn't aware that father cared about the conquest of Silva." She remarked, neatly sidestepping the question that came next. She didn't really have a reason to be here, except for the fact that hanging around Frackleth's gloomy house (despite the fact that there are books and cats) became quite dull after a while.
Then to nobody's surprise, Laranna showed up. Well, a mortal writhing in pain due to Trichitza usually warranted in the Grangria follower's appearance.
"Hello Laranna." Kythela greeted the other demigoddess, her voice dreamy as always. Whether Laranna heard her or not, Kythela didn't really care. After all, Laranna was already starting to heal the mortal.
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Post by Duckling! on Aug 3, 2008 14:35:07 GMT -5
Trichitza's presence had made the necromancer twitchy, which was why she said something that she would soon regret. "Of course he cares," Keziah snapped back. "He's been harboring a grudge ever since R-" She stopped in the middle of the word. That was probably information that Kythela wasn't supposed to know.
She scowled at the entrance of Laranna, who didn't even acknowledge her presence. Not even a thank you, she thought sourly. Typical light demi.
"Laranna," she said. "And how are you today?"
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Post by Tyme on Aug 3, 2008 19:19:35 GMT -5
Trichitza looked delighted at the entrance of Laranna, and just came short of clapping her hands together. She added a belated reply to Keziah's question, ignoring Kythela.
"Oh come, can't I have some fun once in a while?" she asked lightly. The stony demi-goddess probably knew no more of fun then the definition in the dictionary.
"And I didn't know you were on Daddy's side," she added looking with false curiosity at Keziah. It would be fun to get the librarian into some trouble with Kythela's
"Laranna darling, you know just as your domain is healing and light, mine is the pure art of torture. If Daddy didn't make pain and I didn't make torture why you would never get the chance to plaster your little fingers onto cripple's heads to make them feel better." she said sweetly, smiling at the little golden butterfly that had just stomped in. This would get interesting.
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Post by alvin on Aug 8, 2008 11:57:45 GMT -5
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Post by Tyme on Aug 16, 2008 21:14:25 GMT -5
"Search more carefully Laranna dear," she said in one of her sweetly sick voices her hands slinking out to dig through the man's memories. IT had always been useful to use that girl named Shata during these. But she was apparently dead now, seeing as she wasn't at her home. Trichitza sifted through the memories finding the one for the reason the man was crippled.
She was merely brushed by Laranna's shove, as she neatly sidestepped. The air shimmered in the dull candlelight to reveal an old memory from the cripple. Trichitza ran after Laranna when she stomped out.
"Come now dear you can't leave now!" she said her crimson colored eyes dancing with excitement.
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Post by alvin on Aug 17, 2008 14:34:00 GMT -5
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X
Neat-0 Member
Take a wrong turn at madness, and leap without looking off the edge. Trust in nothing.
Posts: 581
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Post by X on Aug 22, 2008 9:46:31 GMT -5
Orzhov had noticed that there was a meeting going on between Laranna and Trichitza, and absolutely couldn't miss it, so, he walked in with the opening statement,"It isn't our job to be fair, Laranna, but, in ways we are more fair than you. We treat everyone equally, while you go around judging people, deciding whether they deserve healing or not, leaving some to die just because some misplaced thought of rightousness. It is not our place to judge." while speaking, Orzhov caused the infection in the cripple's legs to turn deadly, flaring up through his body into his lungs.
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Post by Duckling! on Aug 22, 2008 13:28:49 GMT -5
It was beneath her dignity to chase after them just to find out what was going on, Keziah felt. Absently, the necromancer traced a symbol onto the wood. It was a simple one, only a few lines that could have been mistaken for a letter of the alphabet, but a mage would have recognized it as the sign for sight, used by seers. She poured power into the sigil and blinked. It felt like she was looking through two pairs of eyes at once. For an instant, she didn't know whether she was standing outside watching the argument or inside the house, still sitting at the table.
No wonder seers use mirrors and basins, she thought. She had never been interested in seeing things; there was no power in it, since most falcons had the sense to ward themselves against seeing. There had been other ways to power, which she had pursued with a characteristic singlemindedness. She concentrated on the scene outside, watching with distaste as Orzhov entered the scene. Though she hardly needed sight to tell her that; the smell was overpowering. She felt a surge of power and frowned; it seemed to be directed towards the mortal. Really, she hadn't saved him from Trichitza just so Orzhov could kill him. She stopped the spell and walked outside.
"Orzhov." Her voice was even colder than usual. She looked at Laranna, waiting for her to act.
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Feroc
Newish Person
well i'm back
Posts: 16
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Post by Feroc on Aug 22, 2008 21:35:33 GMT -5
A brief flash of light, a shower of golden feathers, and a newcomer stood in the room next to Laranna. A golden staff, brightly as a crystal moon , shoon through the darkness of the room and brought a gift of renewel and strength to those that deserved it. With a slight transformation, a small delicate falcon stood on the Demi-goddess shoulder and made a crooning sound that translated into words.
"well your quite right Orzhov, It is in fact my place to judge, a recent promotion that elevated my positon from a diplomat to a messenger and a jury at once as well. Isn't that just the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel?"
Trying to stop rambling, Faelyander rapped up his speech and settled to picking at his feathers, while subtly reinforcing the strength of the cripple's body to resist mortal and immortal disease.
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