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Post by Sylvari Dawnsage on Jan 18, 2024 13:24:12 GMT -5
Sylvari felt a bit intrusive on this private moment between Rena and Bell and decided to excuse herself to head out to the garden to begin preparing a space for the teaching session. She came to a small clearing amongst the delicate wildflowers she had cultivated in orderly patches around the space and began reaching out with her arcana to summon Noe, her little skeletal dragonling, as a demonstration of necromantic prowess [Necromancer, Undead Servant].
The little creature dug up from his resting place a few paces away, bounding over to his mistress as he began affectionately brushing against Sylvari's leg. The vampiress leaned down and absent-mindedly stroked the bony crest of his nose. Rena would need to achieve at least this level of mastery if her dream was to be realized. Noe was the most intuitive and personable of her servants, and even he was merely of animal companion aspect. Sylvari frowned, thinking of the challenges facing her friend to bring her chicks back. Perhaps her spirit calling talents would lend themselves to her cause where base necromancy, at least that which Sylvari was willing to teach and participate in, would not.
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Post by Rena Brighteyes on Jan 18, 2024 16:59:10 GMT -5
Rena trills softly, wiping at her eyes and cheeks as she presses into her husband’s semi corporeal touch, silver eyes still dull and watery as she sniffles, ever so slowly relaxing as she sighs, “...we need to go back, to’bi…we need to find them if this is going to have a chance of working. The fledgling’s made her feelings clear…but we haven’t found anything else. If nothing else, I just…I need to be able to hold them, just one last time…”
Bell just…holds her as best he can, nuzzling into her feathers and letting out soft, comforting coos, “...I know, love…believe me, I miss them too…but…this is going to be hard. You heard Syl, we both read those books…you’re going to need to be incredibly careful, we can’t even try to bring them back until you’re certain you can reliably reanimate people without enslaving them…”
The living crow shudders, nodding and closing her eyes, reaching inward to grasp at the sliver of dark magic she'd managed to accrue over the course of her research. It...it isn't a lot, not nearly enough to create and animate a shell for even one of her chicks, but it's a start, and with her sister's help she'll be able to cultivate and nurture that shard of darkness into something that she might just be able to use to make her family whole again...
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Post by Sylvari Dawnsage on Jan 20, 2024 18:41:47 GMT -5
Sylvari worked efficiently as she began preparing a place of training. She'd been meaning to put a combat ring into the grounds at some point anyways, and this juncture gave appropriate motivation to begin. The vampiress used her innate magics and Noe's sharp claws to pointed effect: freezing strips of grass under her feet [Ice Bridge] and having her little dragonling rip up the brittle sections with his claws.
It was time consuming work, but the use of magic and summoned help made it fairly routine and low effort. Clearing the ground was necessary for several reasons. First and foremost, tapping into the well of dark magics often had a necrotic effect on nearby flora, a virulent disease that ruined any life in the vicinity. The justiciar hoped that by clearing the path of transmission in cutting the grasses, her beautiful garden could be spared.
There were also practical considerations for the action. An emerging necromancer very often lacked the strength to summon their servants above the earth, requiring scattered interred bones to target. Weak specimens such as these had a difficult enough time clawing out of the dirt, and the roots of grass were an unnecessary obstacle.
Finally, practicing dark arts was a volatile enterprise, subject to the smallest shift in whims of the caster. Until Rena had undergone the relevant training to keep her emotions absolutely neutral, Sylvari figured she should limit the reach of the consumptive black fires that the plane of darkness housed.
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Post by Rena Brighteyes on Jan 20, 2024 21:45:56 GMT -5
Rena calms further, settling back into her husband’s arms for a moment before pulling away and pushing to her feet, slowly standing and trilling softly as she makes her way out to observe. The crow’s fingers twitch, itching to help, to hurt, to do something, anything at all…and then Bell gently twines his fingers with hers, gentle joy in his eyes as he glances up at his wife and softly squeezes her hand, “...’s okay, to’bi…I know…but you’ve got me again. You can get them back. And your sister’s magic means the live ones will be fine until they hatch. It’ll be fine”
The living crow smiles wanly, trilling and pulling him into another hug, nuzzling into wispy feathers and just…existing, for a moment. She relaxes heavily, letting out a soft trill as her silver eyes drift shut and she hugs her mate a little tighter, sighing…not quite contentedly, but for a moment she’s almost able to forget that half her clutch is beyond anything short of necromantic reanimation…
...and just like that, the spell is broken. she doesn't break down again, no...but...it's close. Bell seems to sense her renewed anguish, pulling back to gently pepper her cheeks with soft, ghostly crow kisses before her tears can start to fall once more
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Post by Sylvari Dawnsage on Jan 22, 2024 10:55:32 GMT -5
Once the justiciar was convinced that her makeshift combat arena-training circle combo was completed to moderate satisfaction, she heaved a sigh of satisfaction, a needless habit, and headed inside to collect Rena. Surely she has had enough time by now to collect her thoughts and be ready for training... Sylvari entered the sitting area of her home to find her friend still wracked by sorrow, still held in her husband's ghostly arms. Or not...
The vampiress felt a little intrusive on this otherwise private moment, and likely would have held her tongue and busied herself with other small household chores to spare Rena some privacy, but Noe had other ideas. Seeing such a close confidant of his mistress filled the little creature with an abundance of joy, causing him to bound over and begin rubbing himself affectionately against Rena's shin. Sylvari wanted to call out a swift reprimand, but figured that such would likely be a greater disturbance than the cute little dragonling provided.
Instead, the justiciar merely smiled at her friend and spoke in muted tones. "The training area is completed enough for us to begin, whenever you're ready, sister."
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Post by Rena Brighteyes on Jan 22, 2024 11:15:23 GMT -5
Rena lets out a startled chirp when Noe butts his little head against her shin, then she chuckles softly and reaches to gently scritch under the skeletal drake’s chin, smiling softly as she trills, “...and who’s this adorable lor’tyrlr ‘no, hm? I don’t think I’ve met you quite yet…”
Bell tilts his head at the undead creature, before glancing up at Sylvari, “...so it is possible with necromancy alone. that, or you’re doing a very good job of puppeting the bones in a convincing manner,” the ghostly crow considers for another long moment before squeezing his wife a little tighter in his wispy arms, “...either way, the combination of this and the ability to conjure spirits…this won’t be easy by any stretch, but…it’s not impossible. and that’s all we need"
The living crow smiles wider at her husband's words, trilling softly and scooping the little bone-drake into her arms as she stands, "...alright, sister mine. I'm as ready as I'm going to be, I think. I...I have already figured out how to twist the power of my curse to produce the required dark magic. it's...not much, not yet...but I'm hoping I'll be able to improve that with your training..."
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Post by Sylvari Dawnsage on Jan 22, 2024 14:21:36 GMT -5
Sylvari cocked her head slightly, her lips turning downward the barest fraction at Bell's description of her servant. Noe, on the other hand, had a considerably more emotional reaction, understanding the veiled snub from his empathic link to Sylvari. Unable to growl for lack of vocal chords, the little dragonling clacked his jaws in irritation before attempting to headbutt the ghost. He was quite confused as he phased right through the crow man.
Suppressing a giggle, Sylvari clarified the error. "That's not quite right, Bell. I am not puppeting Noe any more than a person craving food is forcing themselves to feel desire. Noe is an unconscious extension of my soul, bound to my emotions and will. A small distinction, but an important one, especially when it comes to the dark arts in light of what you two are trying to do."
The justiciar leaned down to scoop up her wayward servant into her arms, still clacking in indignation before settling against his mistress' chest. "I don't know if it's possible, but I will provide you all the appropriate tools to make an honest attempt. Come, let us go outside and see if we can't turn this mote of burgeoning darkness into the blazing black flame needed to bend corpses to your will."
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Post by Rena Brighteyes on Jan 22, 2024 19:00:08 GMT -5
Rena nods, gently shrugging off her husband’s grasp as she steps forward, “...fascinating…if I’m right about this, then I think that animating their shells is going to be the easy part…and the hard part’s going to be shifting that connection from my soul to those of the chicks…” she lets out a considering trill as she moves forward, taking in a deep breath and closing silver and white eyes to turn her focus inward, toward that burning shard of dark power inside her. She’s done more than she’d admitted to her sister, in all reality; her reserves of dark magic are more akin to those of a master than a novice, for all that she’s yet to touch that power beyond cultivating it further.
Bell watches, letting out a chirp of concern as his shining amber eyes focus on his wife, “...she probably has the raw power for it, if’n I’m bein’ honest…I…guess I’m just worried about what this is going to do to her. Necromancy…everything we’ve found suggests that it’s the sort of thing that eats at an unwary practitioner’s soul like acid…I…I don’t want that to happen to her,” those piercing, shining amber eyes turn to fix their gaze on Sylvari, “...I’m trusting you here, to keep her on the narrow, crooked path to the goal she’s chosen. ‘cause if you let her, she will cut every little corner she thinks she can get away with"
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Post by Sylvari Dawnsage on Jan 22, 2024 19:56:20 GMT -5
For the first time in their unsteady relationship, Sylvari addressed Bell with a cold tone as she led the couple outside to her prepared ring. "You needn't remind me of the temptations of the easy path. You're four years and many corpses too late." The vampiress' harsh tone surprised even herself so she continued, a little softer, though still retaining her hard edge. "Take heart, Bell, I'll not let Rena be consumed with the lure of power any more than I have let her become a slave to her hunger. Mastering one's desires is always the first step of training in any subject. Even more so, considering the delicate nature of this project."
Sylvari took the couple to her makeshift little ring, setting Noe at the edge of the circle, before moving to stand in the center. "First, a primer: the nature of our curses lends the dark arts naturally to us, but this is a trap more than a boon. Such emergent power, unschooled, will assuredly cause harm and hubris rather than safe understanding. I assume you are familiar with the theory of the domains of magic being linked to portions of the body and soul?" Without waiting for an answer, the justiciar continued on with her lecture.
"The dark domain is located in the shadow of our heart and mind. It is the realm of hidden desires, of thoughts decided against speaking, of the silent parts of ourselves we keep hidden from the world. To master this arcana you must be willing to delve into the unsavory portions of yourself, master your shames, guilts, and fears, and bend them to your will."
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Post by Rena Brighteyes on Jan 22, 2024 20:27:03 GMT -5
Bell just nods, stepping back and slowly fading away until all that’s left are twin motes of amber light as his wife stops just outside the circle, a frown on her beak as she examines the border of it, then glances back up to her sister, “...the unsavory…so…I have to make peace with my curse, among other things?”
The thing under her skin shifts at the thought, seeming just as unsettled by the idea as she is. To try and make peace with the Jailer Hag’s Gift is such an alien idea that it takes a moment for her to process, “...I…I can try, but…it’s as much depending on the Hunter as it is on me, Syl. as for the rest…it’ll either be easy, or it’ll turn out that I’ve repressed my actual feelings on quite a lot of things, and I couldn’t tell you which”
The Hunter shifts under her feathers, silently considering...make peace with the Jailer...she had already been using its power along with the shape and instincts it grants for some time, all without any payment or recompense beyond feeding it from time to time...a proper peace, a pact between the two of them could be...incredibly beneficial. perhaps the Jailer could prove willing to delve deeper into its powers, and in so doing allow it to truly Hunt for the first time since it had been captured by the Hag...
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Post by Sylvari Dawnsage on Jan 23, 2024 10:39:51 GMT -5
Sylvari shook her head sadly at her friend's response. "No, sister, you are incorrect. That is the fundamental barrier to you, as it was to me. Your curse is not an introduced entity, however much you've sectioned off that portion of your heart and mind, even as I did. You are not a victim of possession; rather your darkest desires, your angers, your hatred has been given voice and power. The 'Hunter' as you call it is the foremost shadow you have to face. You are the Hunter; the Hunter is you."
As much as Sylvari wanted to reach out comfortingly to assuage Rena's inner turmoil, she dared not move from where she stood. Unless her sister was able to face her inner demons without coddling, without comforting lies, it was more likely a monster would emerge than not.
The justiciar's dominant hand itched for her hammer, a longing pulse that reminded her it was always a moment away. It was a new experience for Sylvari. Never before had she flirted so close to evil with someone she cared about. The danger of Rena's corruption was real, and there was no one else to take the burden if her sister could not handle the exercise. If Rena degenerated into a horror, Sylvari would be the one to strike her down: her patron and her executioner.
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Post by Rena Brighteyes on Jan 23, 2024 13:07:06 GMT -5
Rena blinks, then frowns, stepping a ways into the circle before slowly, carefully sitting down. Distant Whistle and her unhatched siblings were safely squirelled away in Sylvari’s home, the worst that would happen would be an orphaning, and she trusted her sister to take care of the surviving little ones.
The living crow shakes her head, sighing and shifting a little to get comfortable on the grass before closing her silver eyes and turning her focus inward, toward both the Hunter and the flaming shard of dark power within her. “...what you want? What are you?” she doesn’t realize it, but she’s speaking aloud, “...yes, I know you’re hungry, but that doesn’t tell me what you are”
Hunter/Hunger/Starving/Freezing/You, the Hunter tries to get through to the Jailer, but it's like she refuses to listen. refuses to acknowledge the guilt, the shame, the memory of what she did. it was never snow that took Bell, was never ice that took the unhatched chicks she's trying to bring back. and until she can look her own Hunger in the eye without flinching away or giving in, she'll never be able to do more than the most basic of reanimations, let alone a proper soul-binding. all she has to do is let it out, drop the walls keeping them separate - the Hag's work had long since worn off, all that was left keeping the two separate was the Jailer's fear and revulsion - and let it devour her weakness like it was always meant to.
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Post by Sylvari Dawnsage on Jan 23, 2024 13:51:47 GMT -5
Now that Rena had taken the first step inward, Sylvari allowed herself a few tentative steps forward, not daring to let down her guard at such a critical juncture. Her voice was low and unobtrusive, not wanting to harm her friend's concentration, but her words carried weight that forced them to be heard.
"I can feel the roiling darkness within you, Rena. You are a woman well-acquainted with negativity to have fostered such a flame. Do not run from it. Do not avert your eyes from the accusing corpses of the fallen. It is only when you can look in their eyes that you will find equilibrium. It is only in their suffering that you find acceptance. It is only in acknowledging your part in their killing and working it towards power that their deaths have meaning. Do not deny them this. The grim reality of lives severed remains, but in their cessation, there can be meaning. That is where the darkness lies: at the intersection of tragedy and purpose, of actions wrought and reconciled. Accept the shadows, and subsume them before they destroy you."
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Post by Rena Brighteyes on Jan 23, 2024 18:03:52 GMT -5
Rena shivers, hunching in a little on herself as she chokes back a cry, “I…I-I don’t…I-I never wanted-” she cuts off as the curse squirms under her feathers, the Hunter cutting off her pleas for mercy and understanding before they could form. It doesn’t matter that she never wanted this. She’d taken the Hag’s deal, knowing full well that none came out of such bargains unscathed. She was the one who’d sought out the Hag, who’d set the terms. The ability to truly Hunt so she could continue putting food on her family’s table. She was the one who’d failed to hold up her end of the bargain during their escape. She was the one who’d killed Tolling Bell, who’d left three tiny, fragile eggs to freeze in the snow as she allowed Hunger to blind her to what she should've cared about. And now, when the time comes to make things right, to begin undoing the damage as best she could, she finds herself in her own head, staring into the burning, bone-white eyes of the Hunter.
“...you…are weak…” the beast murmurs through its cracked beak, cocking its head and slowly reaching toward her with jagged, frostbitten talons…and then she dives forward under it, her own eyes burning white as she slashes its thighs with a pair of bayonets that just appear in her hands.
The Hunter lets out a shriek of rage, wheeling around to slash at the smaller corvid with jagged talons only to catch a bayonet through the eye. It lets out another shriek, clawing at the blade piercing into its skull even as Rena lunges forward to hurl the next one into its ribs, black frost spreading from the impact sites as the creature collapses, one good eye wide and wild as it scrambles to get away…but there is no space here. No distance, no time, nothing except Rena.
On the outside, there’s a long period of silence, the crow’s head occasionally jerking from one side to the other as her brows furrow. When she finally comes out of it, it’s with a sharp gasp and tears rolling down the feathers of her cheeks as her swirling eyes slowly settle into shimmering silver. There’s a coldness to those eyes, now. An analytical, predatory light glints from within her eyes as she tilts her head, then stands and turns away, “...I need to grab something before we can continue. It’s…important, for what I’ve been planning”
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Post by Sylvari Dawnsage on Jan 23, 2024 18:19:19 GMT -5
Sylvari's eyes narrowed as she watched her friend's internal struggle, maintaining a watchful vigilance. She knew Rena to be strong. She'd endured a grueling journey across the whole of the world in the midst of her grief, after all. Strength of spirit alone, however, would not dictate her success in this matter. It was often that same dogged determination that stood in the way of ever accepting the darker parts of oneself. The justiciar stood there, mere feet away from her friend in a fight for her very soul, and all she could do was twitch her fingers instinctively and pray that she didn't need to fell an abomination of her own making today.
Presently, Rena ceased twitching, a few tears trailing down the feathers of her face. The justiciar's eyes were harsh and piercing, her face a mask that betrayed no emotion. She saw the coldness of her friend's eyes where before there had been a feeble hope for retained innocence. This, by itself, did not speak of her success, however. In truth, Sylvari had never dealt with a werebeast she knew, and the justiciar was loathe to underestimate any unknown.
At Rena's words, the vampiress merely nodded her head, slowly and mechanically, her blazing red eyes never leaving the crow woman, boring holes into her back as she retreated.
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