• Closed • Dark Harvest

Here are all threads from before the Fall of Emea in 719 and all threads pertaining to the Fall. As of Ymiden 719 (1st June 2019), this forum is locked for new threads and is a repository for old content.

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Dark Harvest

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All Time/No Time
The Gaol
Emea

It all started in that house. The Sigil, glowing red, broke and released it, the Man in Red. During its ascent from the pit it had sealed itself in, Garizma's eyes had been filled with awe and adoration. Belaera had sustained him in the Miasma, had given him the strength to lead another to free her. Garizma could not, himself. Such was his terror that he often wept openly in the Man in Red's presence, though he felt no shame from Belaera. Instead, he felt its acceptance, as if the entity understood him better than even he understood himself. It was an acceptance that the Avriel craved, and he offered himself to the entity.

And then she came. Garizma led her to the Man in Red, but suspected none of the treachery that would ensue. When the thought crossed his mind, he banished it, trusting in the Man in Red. Such was his most egregious mistake. He watched as Navyri released Belaera, triumph filling his chest with fire and pride. But it was not to be a moment of triumph. It was a moment of betrayal, of deceit, of mutilation. The Naerikk's face was forever burned into the Avriel's memory as she assumed Arithzma's Wings, wings that the disgusting shadow creature had no right to. Bile had risen in his throat, venom boiling the lifeblood in his veins. He wanted to lash out... But he could not. It was not his time.

And so they'd been delivered from the bog. The Shadow had gone its own way, and Garizma was left to travel the world alone, wingless and mutilated. At first, he'd wept for himself, lamenting his station in life. The grief turned quickly to barbed anger, and the anger mutated itself into an unadulterated desire for vengeance. He swore to himself that he'd force the Shadow to rip her own wings off, completing the cycle as it should be. But first, he needed to ready himself. He would not underestimate the shadow again... Not this time. This time, he would hurt the Shadow, not lead her to her salvation.
The Gaol simply was. That was the only thing that was known about the space. It was a massive gray structure, seemingly made from smooth gray stone that insulated the cold better than any abode on Idalos. There was no furniture, nothing to make the place seem inhabited. Instead, the cold gray was broken only by a dusty shaft of light down the center of the space, coming from a high-set window that showed surly gray clouds outside. Standing in the middle of the room, robed in a dual-robe of red on one side and blue on the other stood Belaera, nearly as tall as the room itself.

It swept its arms wide, and from the nothingness sprung two tables, identical to one another. She placed them back to back, and put a chair on either side, so as to face each other. The table, made of a gray metal, seemed to melt into the stone of the floor as if it belonged there the whole time. Another sweep, and two pewter goblets appeared. The final sweep, and two bodies appeared on either side of the table. A smile creased the red mask of the Man in Red, reverting nearly immediately back to nothingness. Stepping back, the Man in Red became the Entity of Gray, melding into the surroundings to as to appear invisible. A faint shimmer showed between the tiny crack in the tables, but nothing else moved...

Until Garizma did. The Avriel stirred, mewling in both pain and determination. Underneath him, a small pool of quickly congealing blood was beginning to form, directly underneath his left hand. Or, rather, where the hand used to be. He cradled the severed limb to his chest, applying pressure to stem the flow of blood. When he realized he was not where he had just been, he turned, eyes wide and rabid. Setting eyes on Navyri, he rose quickly to his feet, seemingly forgetting about the mangled arm. He stared at the Naerikk as she began to stir.

Around them, deafeningly loud, the Man in Red's androgynous voice filled the cavernous space. Navyri was pulled very quickly from her reverie, forced to place her hands over her ears.

"Sit." The command came, with no other offer. Garizma, reluctantly, sat in the chair. He never once took his eyes off Navyri, and the look reminded her of a predator about to eviscerate its prey. It set her nerves on edge.
word count: 775
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Navyri
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Dark Harvest

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“Sit.”

Navyri felt the command in her bones and her eyes shot open, head snapping upwards. Hands instinctively covering her ears, she grimaced, blinking wildly as she came to terms with her surroundings. The first thing she saw was grey stone and then the seething eyes of an old acquaintance, and her mouth parted, unsure whether she should pull her attention from the bleeding man glaring at her.

A table - no, two - Pushed together and facing one another, a shimmer separated them and Garizma took his seat, the sound echoing in the hollow space. Navyri watched him, glancing to the side, and looked up at the great expanse. So far above… a single window waited.

Where was she? And why?

However she got here, she was sure the avriel before her was responsible. What have you done? she thought, unsettled by the way he looked at her, and returned his glare with a cold one of her own. There was a brief moment of relief to see that he was alive, but the circumstances not quite expected. Navyri didn’t know what was happening, but seeing such hatred was unsettling, “Garizma,” she greeted, gaze trailing to the bloody nub hanging at his side, quietly searching his shoulders for any sign of trauma since their last meeting. She didn’t need to see the damage to know, to remember how he cried and cut off his wings - again.

The way he behaved, tense and focused on her movements… well, someone was feeling aggressive. Now that he had recovered somewhat, she shouldn't have been surprised. Weren't the Avriel “tainted”?

“I’ll admit,” Navyri began, sliding her hand beneath the table, ready to flip it if need be when she noticed it fused to the floor. She sighed, quietly irritated when she leaned back, “Not exactly what I imagined when I told you to find me. Color me surprised. Now.. To what do I owe this reunion?”
word count: 331
"At last. It has been too long since I have walked the face of this world. Too long have I been locked there, awaiting my champion to release me. My champion... This is you, daughter of Audrae. You have, whether knowingly or not, released me from my self imprisonment, and are here to fulfill the destiny I have seen written in the tapestry of nature. You, daughter of Audrae's daughter, will be my foothold in this world." - Belaera to The Nightingale, after the 600 arc imprisonment
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Dark Harvest

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All Time/No Time
The Gaol
Emea

The dripping blood was purplish in the dim gray, little drips spattering along the stone. For the amount of blood the Avriel was losing, his eyes belied no sign of weakness. Instead, the grim determination in his eyes only intensified, a strange hiss emanating from somewhere deep in his throat as he stared. His eyes fixated on Arithzma's Wings, jealousy and longing evident in his eyes. His voice, weak from blood loss but wrapped in razor anger, slowly reached her from across the table.

"Colour you surprised? You would be lucky if I don't colour you red... Or whatever colour you creatures bleed. Your profane existence is an insult to those of my kind. I helped you. I helped you defeat that disgusting creature, and you repay me with treachery."

The accusations were acidic in nature, but there was a subtle lament to the Avriel's voice. It was true that he'd wished to assume the Wings for himself, to carry the great Arithzma inside his body. Garizma knew... And he also knew the side effects of the wings. Even in his hatred, he could not wish that upon the Naerikk before him. Killing her would be the better choice. It was the choice he'd chosen.

On the table between them, plates surfaced. Covered in lavish foods from far away regions and realms, the tables became laden with delicious treats, succulent fruits and dates, savory pies. The scents mingled in the air, causing swirling eddies of aromas to playfully dance in their noses. The atmosphere of the Gaol changed, indicating wordlessly that the patron of the Domain demanded they share a meal together. There was a sadistic note in the air, something of the dollmaker who forces the malformed and broken dolls to kiss its most beautiful creations.

"I led you to salvation, and you left me a mewling pile of piteous flesh. Had I the power of the gods, I would curse you. I do not. Instead, I gave my hand to bring you here to tell you that I will find you. Wherever you are on Idalos, I will be there. I will kill you. And I will take those Wings from you."

The threat hung heavily in the air. Glee seemed to swell in the air around them.
word count: 392
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Dark Harvest

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Common Rakahi Euthic Sign Grovokian
As poised as she tried to be, Navyri was bubbling with questions. Garizma had been a reoccurring figurehead in her thoughts and she had been curious as to what had come of him. It seemed time had soured his opinion of her - while the Naer was convinced his own condition was simply a result in his own actions, this conversation too vital to dismiss to a hurt ego. Navyri shifted in her chair, eyes brightening at the feast that materialized. Pies and soups, bread with butter and steaming slabs of fresh meat cuts tantalized the senses and her eyes roamed over them hungrily, “Oh, Garizma,” the woman sighed, attention landing on the silver knife to her side. She picked it up and rolled it across her knuckles, gripping the handle in her palm, “Don’t be coy. You know very well what color I bleed.”

He had seen her, almost all of her, in fact. Navyri could count on one hand the number of times she had been so vulnerable around another; it was disappointing that he craved her death so thoroughly, “To be fair, you were already a mewling pile of piteous flesh when I found you.” she shrugged coldly, attention lowering to the fine piles of hot food awaiting her. Her fork roamed over the offerings, mouth watering in desire, “You truly want to kill me after I did everything you asked?” A piece of succulent steak called to her, and she sunk her prongs into its flesh, eyes flashing with anger when she looked up at the Avriel.

“I offered to find you aid. I told you to bring your wings. You dismissed these things. You,” she spat, finding it hard to contain her displeasure through gritted teeth, “Betrayed me first.” Navyri began to open her lips and bring the bite to her mouth, but before it could touch her lips, something deep inside revolted. Memories of the Miasma flooded her mind and she remembered Belaera’s words - a pair of wings for another. Did the same concept apply to a meal…? Would a payment be required?

Navyri looked at Garizma to see his expression and lowered her fork, scraping the meat back onto the plate and setting the silverware down with silent disappointment, “Where are my manners?” The sense of glee in the room weighed heavy around them, and she could remember the last time she felt such a darkly sadistic emotion. It was as intoxicating as before, and the Naerikk smiled sweetly. Could he have had it poisoned? Was it some way to trap her? What… What had been his reward for losing his hand? She leaned forward on her elbows, and gave a wave of her fingers, “Guests first.”

Slowly, she crossed her arms, one hand rising to cup her cheek and she looked again to his arm. Truly, she had never wanted the poor bird to be so broken, and to an observant eye, the briefest cloud of regret passed over her eyes, her next words gentler than she intended, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
word count: 518
"At last. It has been too long since I have walked the face of this world. Too long have I been locked there, awaiting my champion to release me. My champion... This is you, daughter of Audrae. You have, whether knowingly or not, released me from my self imprisonment, and are here to fulfill the destiny I have seen written in the tapestry of nature. You, daughter of Audrae's daughter, will be my foothold in this world." - Belaera to The Nightingale, after the 600 arc imprisonment
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Dark Harvest

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All Time/No Time
The Gaol
Emea

Garizma eyes stared across the makeshift dining table menacingly, malevolence present. If he could rush across, he would, but he knew it had told him it was an audience only. No bloodshed in the Gaol. He wondered if that counted the blood leaking from his empty wrist, and he instinctively tried to flex the sacrificed hand. It wasn't there. And he knew it.

Navyri's patronizing tone did nothing to assuage the wave of brutality in the Avriel, and he dug a clawed hand into the food present on his plate, stuffing it into his mouth in defiance of Navyri. He need not poison her, that was too easy. And he knew it wouldn't poison the both of them, it was far too interesting a show to let it end so quickly. Garizma still had many Sacrifices he could offer the Man in Red, and he assumed that Navyri would give some too, willingly or not.

"How are you insult me with your words of false concern, shadow whore? Would you have told me if the roles were reversed?" His eyes followed her every move, and the air around them swirled with anticipation. It was as if Belaera wanted them at each other's throats, which it did. They both knew it. Even its Miirduz wasn't safe, not truly. Such was the nature of Sacrifice.

"You dare speak to me of betrayal? You left me to bleed in a world unlike this one, inhabited by freaks and forgotten Immortals. You have no idea what truly wanders those horrendous fens, and you speak to me of betrayal. I should have given both hands so that I may bite out your lying tongue." His voice quivered with rage, and the Avriel sat back and tilted his head.

"Arithzma's Wings don't belong to you, Daughter of She-Bitches. They belong with a true Avriel, one whose journey to find those wings ended with his near death. If you have any shred of honour in that false body of yours, you'll leave them here." She wasn't sure, but Navyri felt instinctually that she couldn't just abandon the wings. In her head, a strong male voice responded.

He is a usurper, much as you. Perhaps you should be lovers, not enemies. She quickly quelled Arithzma's voice, but the feeling of unease persisted.

"But of course you won't, you vain bitch. Don't worry. I may not be able to touch you in here, but I'm going to find you, and I'm going to cut those wings off. Slowly."

And she believed him. A shiver went up her spine.
word count: 452
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Dark Harvest

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Common Rakahi Euthic Sign Grovokian
Garizma refused to play nice, snapping at every chance he got and getting under his skin like an infectious disease. Her spine straight and rigid, she did not move at each insult, holding her breath as the anger began to boil her blood and flush her cheeks, blue eyes burning with a fury unable to be realized, "Bitch. Whore. Bitch. Whore. Tell me, Garizma, did all those arcs in the Miasma take away your creativity, or have you always been so dull?"

She gripped her silverware, imagining driving them both into his skull for his disrespect and turned her eyes to a cut of roast on the table, stabbing it with little subtly. She could not give him the wings, and for his comments, she most definitely did not want to. It was this instinctual and immediate physical refusal that stirred the being often dormant in her own mind.

(He is a usurper, much as you. Perhaps you should be lovers, not enemies.)

Hands paused in their cutting, Navyri's nostrils flared and she stared distantly at the table, mentally blanching at the idea, (Do not make me suffer such foolishness!) With a great power of will, she tried to shove the voice away, and it worked momentarily in silencing him. Some time ago, she had tried to hear Arithzma's voice, and now? Perhaps she would not have tried had she known the kind of commentary she would receive! Remnants of disgust still played upon her lips, and dropped her silverware and covered her face as unease settled like a stone in her stomach.

"As much as I love being called vain by an Avriel," spreading her fingers, Navyri began to peer at the mutilated man, remembering her anger, "We have business, do we not? More than you just asking for things you know I cannot give you and threatening me because of it."
 
She remembered how he cried out as steam rolled from his self inflicted wounds. The way he lay broken afterwards in the glowing red light of Baleara... Hardening her resolve, she reminded herself that it was not her duty to care for the forgotten. He had been abandoned and left for dead long before her. Why should she do anything to help him now when he had done nothing but trick and insult her? Slowly, she uncovered her face.

"You've given up your hand," an obvious statement said with cold indifference, "Contrary to your belief, I am not so careless, nor so vain to believe it was for a dinner date. What have you really done?" Navyri liked to believe herself clever, but she was young. Like the Shrivma, there were tricks even she was unable to predict, "Am I stuck here now? Or does every trill you spend talking to me get you one step closer to my location?"

She paused, a cruel smirk turning up her lip. Like the endless pit of talons and wind, like the land of mist and monsters, surely this was a similar location. The fine line of dreams and reality. Or... Nightmares.

"I don't deserve the wings, they aren't mine, shadows are meant to be tied to the ground," she gave a wave of her hand, having heard it all before. As much as his threats violent promises unnerved her, getting information now might be the only time she was capable of doing so, "Yes, yes, I knooow. But why do you want them? To be honest, you're not really inspiring my generosity."
word count: 594
"At last. It has been too long since I have walked the face of this world. Too long have I been locked there, awaiting my champion to release me. My champion... This is you, daughter of Audrae. You have, whether knowingly or not, released me from my self imprisonment, and are here to fulfill the destiny I have seen written in the tapestry of nature. You, daughter of Audrae's daughter, will be my foothold in this world." - Belaera to The Nightingale, after the 600 arc imprisonment
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Re: Dark Harvest

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birdo
Knowledge.........
Location: Emea
Emea: The Gaol
The Gaol: Baleara's Domain
Loot....................
Nein
Consequence......
Nuh uh
Renown..............
Nu
Experience...........
15
The 20 XP quest reward is supposed to be given at the discretion of a staff member moderating the quest. Unfortunately, I am not a staff member and this quest never made it to the 'finished' stage.

Bit of a shame this ended the way it did. I know Tommy had some great things planned for these series of threads. Ah well, the annoying realities of roleplaying.
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