- Joined
- Nov 10, 2008
- Messages
- 16,472
- Reputation score
- 430
Nireniel Darkstar: HP = 49, PP = 49, EP = 116, Status = Fine
Ceri (Marceri) Wisptail: HP = 46, PP = 82, EP = 96, Status = Sealing Collar'd, Not Fine
Naia Darkstar: HP = 92, PP = 51, EP = 81, Status = Fine
NPCs
Karelia: EP = 81, PP = 23
Ceri (Marceri) Wisptail: HP = 46, PP = 82, EP = 96, Status = Sealing Collar'd, Not Fine
Naia Darkstar: HP = 92, PP = 51, EP = 81, Status = Fine
NPCs
Karelia: EP = 81, PP = 23
~~~~Somewhere in Badaria~~~~
For Ceri, it could not have been a worse day. That was probably saying a lot, all things considered, but it bore repeating nonetheless as she was led up towards the gallows built on the narrow hill overlooking some village in the exact center of bumfuck nowhere, Badaria. A lone, sickly looking tree stood on that domed plot of dirt and stone, sitting forlornly beside the place that was to be her doom, with the grass underfoot sprouting around the primitive wooden stage just so scraggly that it almost hurt to walk on as badly as the rocks mixed in among them. Everything she'd owned been taken, though it was almost painfully close at hand in the possession of the grinning men who were forcefully leading the kitsune towards the gallows. She had been left in a sack dress that barely provided a hint of decency, no shoes, and her last meal had been a bowl of cold porridge and a crust of old bread, washed down with some cold, oily substance that seemingly passed for water in this town.
Her sword and poisons were on the man who's wife she had very nearly seduced and fed upon, a soldier of some sort who had come upon them and managed to resist her efforts to seduce him into placidity long enough to call out for help against the "monster" attempting to rape his wife. It was an unfortunate reality in Badaria that those of nonhuman heritage or possessing any metaphysical gifts were often viewed with suspicion at best and hatred more often than not, and unfortunately this time a member of the group that the human empire had created to deal with such gifted individuals had been in town. There had been nowhere to run from the Inquisitor, and her powers had railed against his mind to no avail, her mental cuts rebounding off of a shield of some sort while her own had been pierced like the brittle shell of an egg, allowing astral chains that cut off any further efforts to escape or fight back completely to coil around her, sealing her powers inside for long enough for the foul human to slip a collar around her neck that accomplished the same, leaving her helpless.
That very man, a completely clean-shaven human of what looked to be an originally pale complexion turned dark and ruddy by years of exposure to sunlight, clad in the officiously drab grey of his office and watching her back with an impassive gaze concealing a malevolent hatred that her psychic attacks had just barely managed to touch upon, was following only a few paces back. He carried her potions, pocketed after he'd bound her, and had her clothes folded over one arm, to be "buried" with her as some mockery of respect. She'd managed to seduce and drain the guard left to watch over her in her small, dingy cell, a flabby and crude man who smelled especially foul, but he'd only consented to enjoy her through the bars, and the lout had flopped over unconscious too far away for her to haul him closer or simply grab the keys. She hadn't even managed to get his soul, and without her powers she had been left to sit in her cell in helpless frustration with salvation so painfully close and yet still out of her reach.
When his fellows had stumbled upon the fop she'd almost conned into letting her out, they had simply laughed until he roused, though their raucous outcry had gone silent as soon as the Inquisitor had arrived. She had been leg through the town in her rags, some trying to take pity on her for her innocent guise and acts, but even the best of her mundane charms had not cowed enough of the citizenry to get them to go against the will of an Inquisitor, and so she had been fed and then led from her cell and out into the dim morning light, after which a sham of a trial had pronounced her worthy of death. From there she'd started the march up towards a hill just outside of the tiny hamlet, located somewhere in South-Eastern Badaria, where now it seemed she was surely doomed.
She was crowded forward by a dozen blades at her back towards the stage, with the primitive rope already being adjusted and hung by the executioner, a leering man of dark hair and lithe proportions with a dark handlebar mustache. She crossed the narrow bridge spanning the stream that almost completely circled the hill, and from there on the path was flanked by townsfolk holding rifles, farming tools, and torches that sputtered in the light drizzle that fell upon them on that dim early morning, mud squelching between her toes as she was prodded inexorably towards her demise. The executioner and the nearest of the human townsfolk leered as Ceri started her final ascent up the hill, and she could feel the lightest of smiles on the Inquisitor's face. If any was a time in which her low opinion of men and the world in general was justified, it had to be now, as she was prodded to a "more civil" death than simply being stabbed to death as the guards constantly threatened. Any one of the people around her could have given her a chance to escape, as the primitive collar sealing her powers in could have been removed by anyone - anyone but her - for it had no lock of any kind, yet not a one of them even seemed to consider seeing her freed, and with her arms securely tied behind her back such that even her shapeshifting wouldn't allow her to get free she couldn't even attempt it.
~~~~Somewhere Suspiciously Similar in Badaria~~~~
Leaving their cliffside home in the hands of her son many days past, Nereniel, her daughter Naia, and the tiny goblinoid slime who had lived with them for so long traveled the ill-kept road at whatever pace fir their leisure. Their supernatural blood gave them near-infinite stamina for something as simple as walking, and even the rough terrain offered little difficulty for them. The slowest member of their group, Karelia, wasn't even inconvenienced by the uneven ground of the overgrown packed dirt road, and even the light drizzle that had begun to fall from the sky didn't have the ability to dampen their spirits.
Whether they traveled in disguise, using their ability to sculpt their forms to hide their inhuman heritage from the often xenophobic locals, or traveled in their natural forms had hardly seemed to matter over the last few days. They hadn't come upon a town or even another traveler for days, and only dark news of wars and an oncoming famine had come from the lips of the last figure they had seen, a bent scraggly looking fellow little hair left to his name who had seemed half blind and did much muttering to himself between conversing with them on the road. Signs, scrawled on chunks of ancient rotten wood propped up on crumbling sticks, had warned of a town up ahead named Millgob, likely a very rural one that would be rife with the sort of bigotry that could easily cause the trio trouble, especially since Karelia had no way of disguising herself.
Unfortunately, signs of that bigotry became all too apparent as the thick barrier of trees that had flanked them on both sides throughout their journey suddenly ended on their right side. A sloping stony path led down to a collection of wooden buildings off in the distance, but far closer was a narrow stone bridge leading across a small but rushing stream. Across that stream rose a steep hill covered in scraggly grass and topped with a single tree.... And a set of gallows. They were surrounded by a small crowd of people, most dressed in the shabby clothes of peasants but some clad in weathered uniforms of the Badarian military, with one particularly eerie figure in the center clad in gray robes. The armed humans were prodding a girl dressed in rags up the hill towards the hangman's noose, one who looked far too innocent to be heading for her death. Whether or not the demoness and her daughter wished to intervene in her fate, however, would be entirely up to them.
(I am.... Somewhat iffy about this start in general for various reasons, but it seemed like a more interesting starting scenario than just randomly meeting and then teaming up for no reason. If you three come to the consensus that you want something different, I'll rewrite.)
