[Quest] When Darkness Comes (Sela)

[Paragon]

When Darkness Comes... Location: Amethyst Bathhouse, Denval Timestamp: 4th Day of Spring, 512 AV OOCThis is officially the opening for the Spring Plot. The first few posts are exclusively between me and Sela, but then the plot will go open. I will be sure to let you all know when it does so! There will also be more personalised opportunities for most of the players who requested to take part, just hold on, and I will let you know about that in due course. Denval had been hit hard. In its wake, much of the town lay in ruin, and further still, wild djed pooled in areas, threatening unknown effects. The physical chaos had seemingly ended, but worry was still rife. It was this worry that a group decided to manipulate. A lull in the chaos; a perfect time to strike. Having watched and waited for a season or so, the tension of actually executing their mission was now palpable. It was one member of this group that now watched Sela as she made her way into the Amethyst Bathhouses. The building had stayed strong in the storm. Somehow, only a single pillar had fallen from the entrance way. Many whispered that Priskil had protected her own. As people recovered from the storm, they left themselves open, unprepared. They were not ready for this darkness, coiled, and now ready to strike. Sela entered the bathhouse, and the figure that stalked her followed soon after. Soon, Denval would know. Soon, darkness would come.

[Sela]

Dread followed the nuit like Dira's specter, finally come to collect Her due.

It was an odd feeling, one that had pervaded her ever since the cataclysmic storm that had rocked Denval, and, supposedly, the rest of the world. She had felt it root deep in her bones, settle along the dead skin of a body stolen from Taldera and clutch that non beating heart. She had felt it only once before in her life; a dark time she scarcely remembered, in which men - wizards - sent her into the void, only to pull her back into life once more.

It felt like death.

She walked into the bathhouse not quite knowing what to expect. It had been literally ages since she had last bathed, which countered the point of using a corpse as a host in the first place. True, there were some incenses she used to cover up the smell of rot but little more than that. But there was something relaxing about this bathhouse that had drawn her in. Amid all the uncertainty that had gripped Denval suddenly, a spot of comfort was just the sort of thing Sela needed.

Light, tripping steps took her down into the Amethyst Bathhouse proper, taking only a pause to breath in the swell smell of the waters within. She garnered more than a few strange looks as she entered, by the already rooted occupants. This was probably due to the fact her nuit nature had become public knowledge following the events at the Opal Clinic, a feat of gossiping that had mystified even one such as she. How the secret had been passed on beyond the few others that had been called to the Clinic escaped her, though she did suspect that "concerned citizen". Though there was something else, some deep-seated yet mysterious apathy for him that drove such negative feelings. No matter. The cat was already out of the bag, so to speak.

One of the pools beckoned, and the woman approached it hesitantly. A foot dipped down, oohed in the pleasant temperature. She sat down on the water's edge, legs sliding into the bath pleasantly. But still, there was still some sort of anxiety coloring her, an anxiety that escaped her as completely as the gossip about her nuit nature.

It was only after a couple minutes that Sela realized her had been followed into the Bathhouse. Instincts carved by the hundreds of years spent wandering Mizahar took her gaze behind her, straight into the face of whoever had been stalking her.

Her lips formed but one word: "...What?"

[Paragon]

And so it ended. There was no protection from Priskil, even if the Bathhouse had stayed standing amidst the divine oblivion of days gone by, the same could not be said for the nuit. She had been listed a long time before, a target in Sentinel's mission to make Denval pure. Now the Gods had spoken, and the will of the group was to be obeyed, the will of their leader will and testament. Written in blood or not, this action would be the catalyst to a very different future. Sela turned to face her stalker. The nuit were an ancient race, born of folly, who had walked upon Mizahar's surface for much longer than the humans could claim. It was not surprising she would experience the sensation so many had described before her. Of life flashing before one's eyes. Images, sliding in front of each other, of poignant moments, of people, of events. Everything had led to this moment. There was no chance for salvation now. There was no escape. The awful, inexorable truth would hit her only a moment before the blade did. The attacker whispered to her, eyes narrowing in concentration. "It begins." The blade hit her, though it did not kill her. She recoiled back, dark flecks obscuring her vision so she could barely make out the figure that had struck her. She tumbled, not through physical space, but through time and memory. She was lost in her own eternity. Through the wound trickled ichor, the fluid of life to the nuit, and as she fell, her attacker raised the blade again. He knew how to slay a nuit. They could not be killed so easily - only total annihilation would suffice. Severance from the mind. The sword came down upon her neck. Pain blossomed, then closed again. Death coming like a release, the nuit inside freed from her body. She fell into Dira's clutches, and returned to the cycle. The head hit the floor, eyes open as if they had seen something extraordinary in their final moments. It rolled, streaking thick, white ichor upon the marble floor, and stopped just before the water. The body seemed to crumple on itself, collapsing as nothingness, a hand splashing into the warm water of the tepidarium. The figure crouched momentarily, leaving a bound scroll upon the corpse, recoiling as if the ichor was toxic, then rushed from the bathhouse, feet tapping audibly against the marble. Several onlookers would witness the escape. Several others would rush over in fear and panic. The beheading was breathtaking, gruesome, brutal, but sudden and needless. For Sela, she would finally be released from her mortal coil, and return to the cycle of being. Perhaps she would find another path, though the memories would dissipate with her existence. She would be unaware of her importance in the coming war. She was the first casualty, and though Sela's own recollection was gone, perhaps her memory would be carried by the Denvali. For her death did not wipe her existence from the fabric of time. It would linger in the minds of those she had touched, and in that way, they would perpetuate her reality. Her death on the eve of war would not go forgotten.

[Lucette]

Lucette paced, agitated. The loose gown annoyed her, especially where the silky fabric tightened upon her swollen belly. Her mood soured; she refused to be civil or pleasant with anyone. The Temple patrons were too needy, too unsettled by the darkness that had come to Denval, and the Kelvic almost lashed out at them. All her nerves were on edge with their energies; she wished to be away from their annoyances. The hunger was great! The baby wanted more food. Always it wanted more! Even as this unborn cub would kill her, the instinct to feed it couldn’t be ignored. And with a narrowing of her eyes, Lucette remembered Veldrys had once said there was meat in the Chapel. Blood Meat. Lucette slunk out the Temple doors and through the streets towards Veldrys and his Chapel. Curses upon her human feet! The Kelvic wanted four – to run and be away swiftly… But her keepers would not allow it. She could not transform - not while the beast was in her belly! The reasons why meant nothing in her disturbed state. With mean spirited glee, the Kelvic had the fleeting, yet satisfying thought of how tasty it would be to eat the Temple’s patrons instead. Lucette licked her lips. The hunger was great! She would find Veldrys and ask for the promised meat… and the blood to drink… Her eyes partially closed to imagine the sticky sweetness upon her tongue. Slowly she made her barefoot way through the streets of Denval, her wildness contained by the unassuming human form she wore, though her mind was in the Cheetah. And the pregnancy pushed her ever closer toward that wild and aggressive predatory nature of ‘mother’. The hunger was great!

[Xelhes]

Too much was happening with Denval. First the Stone had caused the large amount of trouble and now that it was over, wild djed had come with ruin in its wake. Today the Ethaefal wanted to just relax and try to forget, if only for a moment, the chaos that had recently erupted into his life. With everything going on his bow and arrows could always be found with him, the quiver full of arrows resting on his back while his bow floating above the ground, sitting on his shoulder. He had yet to find a reason to use the weapon, yet he felt it appropriate to carry some form of weapon around. In the chaos that had probably spread beyond Denval, the Ethafeal felt as if there was no real safe place anymore.

While he had been to the bathhouse before, Xelhes was still not sure if it would actually help him relax with all that had and was happening. Before the water had help his muscles relax, yet this stress was completely different than that of everyday life. As he walked forward someone ran past him in a hurry, the Ethaefal passing a glance before the individual continued past him. Not knowing about what had occurred, Xelhes thought nothing of it and continued on, forgetting about the one who had ran past him in such a hurry without a second thought. After all, why should he care about someone who was in a hurry? Running did not make someone a criminal, and lately everyone was in a hurry to do what they could to survive.

As the Ethaefal reached the bathhouse he heard the noise of panicked people inside. Entering the building he could help but wonder what had happened here to cause such a ruckus; if it was something he could even help fix.

[Louie Wein]

There was so much to do especially after the storms and what has to happen? Curfew has to happen. It only made Louie's already very limited day even less to do what he wanted. What did he want to do now? He wanted to become a witness and record everything that was happening to Denval. The new experiences for the city and its people as brought by that divine agent of change.

Louie was now walking around Denval without any destination in mind with just a book and quill in hand. Watching, noting, trying to ignore the faces of those victimized so that he can look at things objectively. "If you ask me they got what they deserved" but that should never be thought on too much especially since it was only the words of a loser centuries past. Louie was a lot more interested with the way the resilient people of Denval went to try and minimize the damage.

"If only I knew how to draw..." Louie told himself a little bit disappointed so that he can capture what he was seeing but he would have to make do with words. A quick description of the men, women and even the children in their rather optimistic outlook at the scene of destruction and despair, Louie shut the book to help them a little with lifting some rubble here and there. When he was done, he opened the book again to record down the little difference that he was able to make and his experience before needing to move on again.

On to the next scene, another inspiring look at what people called life. It was only going to be one of many to the writer.

[Veldrys]

The Symenestra had barely left the Chapel since the djed storm had wraked havoc upon the city. What had happened, had shaken him to the core. He had spent hours kneeling in front of the altar, praying to his god, asking for answers. He had asked him why he – Denval’s patron – had let this happen countless times, he had cut himself to make Viratas more inclined to listen, but no answer came. The god of blood had remained silent.

But still the Symenestra stayed, because he was too stubborn to accept it, or maybe because he had nowhere else to go – most of Denval had been destroyed. He only briefly stepped outside the door when others had need of him, of his skills as a healer. He often thought of Lucette, of the child that she carried, his child. He was worried about her safety in this nightmare that their world seemed to have become, worried that one or both of them would die despite whatever assurances Justus and the others had made.

If Lucette entered the Chapel, she would find him there, in front of the altar, dressed in precious Symenestra silk, as always. The Chapel had been unaffected by the storm. It looked just like before, a safe haven, an oasis of peace amidst the chaos. The room was filled with the smell of incense that the Symenestra had burned there, and beyond that something slightly sweet -the blood that she craved so.

A means to satisfy her hunger, at least temporarily, seemed to be within her reach now.

[Paragon]

OOCFirst off, I am truly sorry for the MASSIVE delay in getting this plot going. Several IC events like the Djed Storm and Denval's demise have forced me to change parts of the plot, and truncate it somewhat. I've also been very busy with Zeltiva, and Uni stuff. Now, however, I'm going to get this party started! Enjoy. Lucette & Veldrys Lucette was driven by her calling. The pregnant woman had become one with the whims of her unborn child. It pulled her to and fro, dictating what she needed to do. Even now, in the resonant darkness of the storm, she rushed towards the chapel. Denval was eerily quiet. A deep seated shock had possessed everybody. Every pair of eyes Lucette saw seemed to be dark, lacklustre. But she barely noticed. Hunger drove her. An animalism that threatened to consume her being. As she neared the chapel, lost in her fury, she missed the light padded footsteps beside her. In the darkness, she would barely make out the long shadow either. She didn't make it to the chapel door. Gloved hands gripped her firmly. They went around her mouth, but Lucette managed to let out a stunted scream beforehand. In the chapel, Veldrys would hear her cry. Whether he would recognise it or not was another story. She was dragged into the darkness, and in her eyes, for the faintest of moments, burned the cheetah inside. --- Louie & Xelhes Those close to the Amethyst Baths were aware of the crisis rather quickly. Several people came running out of the building, passing between Priskil's pillars - and thus, her threshold - shouting, calling for help. As Xelhes entered to see what was going on, Louie would hear the shouts too. Always one to get a good story, he would be sure to head into the bathhouse. Inside the building, chaos reigned. The image people had seen would never leave their minds. Their eyes were glazed, wanting to help, but knowing there was nothing they could do. Thus far, no one had noticed the small scroll, secreted about Sela's corpse. What was written inside? Time would tell.

[Lucette]

Meat... It was all Lucette could think about. There was room in her mind for nothing else. People passed her on the street, and the Kelvic could only glare at them in frustrated hunger, as if this feeling, this anger, this predicament were their fault… On she moved in the darkness, light gown trailing behind her in a deadly and gracious hurry. Always it seemed dark now… yet another annoyance to the pregnant Kelvic. But the Chapel was close. Her almond eyes narrowed upon the building, like a prey she would descend upon and devour. It was too close to escape now! And Veldrys was there… with the Meat! Lucette’s thoughts circled like vultures - unending and dire. Meat. And Blood. And Veldrys... And feeding the baby… And feed- The thoughts cut off suddenly as hands grabbed her. They reached for her mouth and the Kelvic’s instincts wailed. Lucette screamed high pitched and feral. She screamed at the suddenness of the attack, but also in rage at being stuck in this human body. She wanted the Cheetah! To protect! This human body was too weak! Automatically, Lucette thrashed wildly, trying to bite down upon the gloved hand and fingers that now covered her mouth. Her hands flew to claw and scratch upon the one who held her, to fight to gain freedom, and instinctually run away from conflict. But she did not know how to fight, and she could only wiggle violently in the tight grip, bucking against the larger body. She scratched at the collar that held her as surely as the hands did, to loosen it, to make it fall so she could transform. It would not budge, yet her nails dug into her own neck, viciously trying to free herself from its confines. The scream fell away to a muffled keening as the hand continued to block her speech and Lucette was dragged kicking and struggling into the darkness.

[Veldrys]

As he knelt in front of the altar, his thoughts went from the fate of Denval in general to the fate of one particular person. He was worried about her. He had already been worried about her when Denval had still been standing, when it had been assured that she would have the best healers that Kalea had to offer, but after the djed storm his worry had increased a hundred times. Who would take care of her now? Would they even have time to take care of her when so many people were wounded and in pain?

What would happen to the city? Hardly any buildings in Denval were still whole. What if they couldn’t stay in Denval? What would happen to the baby and her then? „Viratas, if you are listening at all, keep my child and her safe“, he whispered. „Lucette is innocent. She doesn’t deserve to die. You are the god of community, the patron of Denval. These are all your people. We need you now, more than ever.“

He raised his head as if he expected to see his god in front of him, the way he had appeared when he had first marked him in front of the gathered Denvali, but of course there was nobody. There was only that sound, a scream …

A scream! Lucette! It had sounded like her voice. What was happening? Was anything wrong? He rose to his feet at once and rushed towards the entrance. „Lucette!“ he called out her name, hoping that she would reply. Was she hurt? Was she in pain? Was the baby coming? No, it was still much too early for that. But something was wrong. She had sounded as if she was in trouble. His heart began to beat faster.