Open Chronicles Twilight Gods

[Jason Chronicles]

In the darkest reaches of the Falwood they gathered. The outcasts. The lost. The hate-filled-blind. Centuries of war with the humans had cost them homes, families, and even limbs.

Although generations ago to the men of Anir, there were those amidst the Falwood who remembered what was done to them. And who thought of the plight of their kith and kin enslaved or forced to live in squalor. Malice dwelt in their hearts.

He stood among their number, tall and fair, gray of eye and dark of hair, a prince of Fal’Addas. The only symbol of his station was the diadem he wore. Nothing else spoke of his nature, save the elven steel at his hip and the grim look in his eyes.

Too few in number, they could never succeed against the swarm of Anirian, nor their powerful battle mages.

But there existed beings far older and far more powerful than all else in Arethil. To tap into their well needed only a pact.

A pact of blood.

 

[Taayi]

Along with the spiteful elves stood Xal, the Dark Prophet.

Not one of Duvain’s kin, but he offered to be the conduit and guide for this pact.

Reality is a dark forest.​

A pact promised to those the world neglected.

So, become the hunter.​

Those tormented.

Lash out with all your hate.​

Those that the world allowed to suffer.

The Dark Ones shall provide.​

Xal waited for Duvain to speak first.

 

[Jason Chronicles]

An elf all in white stepped forward from the circle and into the midst.

Dûvain did not speak. Words could not convey meaning for this moment. He could not speak. Could not trust his emotions to betray him in the moment. Even now he felt it, the constricting of the throat. His eyes passed from the elf in white to Xal. He dipped his head, the inclination, though slight, a signal to proceed. To continue with the horror they were about to wreak on one of their own.

It did not matter how willing.

The elf in white stood expectant, awaiting the drawn blade.

Dûvain forced himself to watch. Refused to turn his head away.

Nothing that mattered in life could be achieved without sacrifice. He would remember this one.

 

[Taayi]

Duvain opted not to speak. Xal silently approached the elf in white and the sacrifice.

Xal step toward the sacrifice – another yet secured to a smooth, stone surface. The sacrifice’s age could be no more than a couple decades. Very young by elvish standards. While he did not struggle against the restraints, beads of sweat dripped down his forehead. His heart pounded as his jaw tensed up.

Xal’s fingertips gently touched the sacrifice’s head.

“Feyrith,” Xal spoke a name no one told him.

“Pity to you, who has lived in this world,” Xal continued in an almost chant.

“You, who’s seen your own village burn,” Xal said, describing something true yet unsaid to him.

“Seen your own family butchered.”

Feyrith’s breathing began to slow down. His pupils dilated.

“Who’ve quelled hunger with mud.”

Leaning forward, Xal nearly touched his mask against Feyrith’s forehead.

“Your anger has been felt in the stars. With your sacrifice, may you leave the pain of existence so that those left behind may devour those responsible for your suffering.”

Feyrith’s anxiety appeared to have disappeared - as if in a trance. Xal pulled his face away from the sacrifice.

“May the Dark Ones embrace you,” Xal concluded as he stepped back.

The prayer finished. Blood may be spilled.

 

[Aerdeth]

Aerdeth quietly watched with his one good eye from the crowd, his hood drawn across his head, observing the scene play out in front of him and what he saw disgusted him, they wanted to lay hopes on an outsider bringing with them, dark gods, this was a mockery of everything he had sacrificed for past 200 years, this was a betrayal of the Falwood. and everything it stood for

"I think I've seen enough!" Aerdeth raised his voice drawing attention to himself, heads turning to face him as he dropped his coal to reveal his face and equipment, starting to approach the front "If you so as much a raise blade to that elf, I'll cut you down, outlander." he spoke to the one in the mask, his resting on one of the falxs at his hip Aerdeth was not foolish enough to come to this place alone, he had let a handful of his people infiltrate the crowd with him, whilst others waited in the tree line should things go south.

 

[Torie]

Torie waited in the shadows at the edge of the clearing, ready to spring forth and attack on Aerdeth's signal.
Well, spring forth might be a bit optimistic. The tigress was very fond of the forest, but always seem to gravitate towards the creature comforts of the cities - and the abundant food they provided. Consequently she looked less like a fearsome tiger most of the time and more like a plush toy. Still, she was huge in stature, and still bore the sharp claws and crushing bite of her species. And their stripes. That's what kept her hidden.
She waited on all fours, shuffling her legs every now and then to make sure they were ready to move. Ready to launch her tubby mass forward. She wondered what her prey would think of her, this roly-poly tiger bent on violence, and hoped she wouldn't have to attack. Wouldn't have to maim anyone.

And especially, that she wouldn't have to kill anyone.

 

[Jason Chronicles]

Xal finished. Another spoke, emerging from the treeline. Dûvain's pale gray gaze narrowed on the newcomer and his lips parted as if to speak. But he needn't have. Feyrith spoke first.

"It is my choice, my gift to our people, who are you to deprive me of it?" said the sacrifice-in-waiting.

Dûvain's lips firmed in a hard line. Much wisdom in this one. What a loss. He did speak now, for he knew the scarred elf, or at least had heard of him.

"Aerdeth, who makes our Falwood fell for any Anirian."

The words came calm and clear, despite the fear in Dûvain's heart, the pleasant ringing of a silver bell. A prince of Fal'addas could not show his people fear.

"I wish we could have met under different circumstances, Aerdeth," Dûvain said, closing his eyes for the briefest of moments as he felt the shifting of fates in the night air. "But we both fight for the same cause. Do not look upon our means with a hate-filled heart. It is Feyrith's choice. It is our choice. Honor it."

A gesture from Dûvain and an exertion of will called up a shimmering dome of blue light around the sacrificial stone, within it were he, Xal, and Feyrith. Without stood Aerdeth, who would have to make his choice.

Would he join causes, despite loathing of means?

Or would he cast their people into further turmoil with yet more internecine strife?

Stepping toward Feyrith, Dûvain drew a long dagger from his hip. The wavy patterns of the blackglass, sidereal-forged blade gleamed in the moonlight. Part of Dûvain's own legacy. One part Fal'Addas, one part the Starlight Chosen upon the Gulf of Ryt.

He met Feyrith's gaze, would not let his eyes waver.

"Watch over our people from beyond the heavens."

"Watch over them from beneath the boughs," replied the sacrifice.

Then Dûvain drug his sidereal-blade across Feyrith's throat in a motion both swift in the suddenness of the action and slow in the ending as blood seeped, then poured in sheets from the young elf's neck to coat the stone beneath.

 

[Taayi]

Aerdeth emerged to oppose the sacrifice at the hands of an outsider. Xal, with no weapons at hand, took just a few more steps back. Nothing came from the masked man’s mouth.

Duvain was the one that took charge.

And plunged the dagger into Feyrith.

A gesture from Xal followed.

But within the bubble of light that Duvain created, there was silence.

The moonlight from above seemed to disappear.

The moment appeared to stretch into an eternity.

Then, Feyrith’s body began to twitch. It evolved into a seizure regardless of the fact that a blade was stuck in his neck. Darkness consumed Feyrith’s still open eyes.

During all this, Xal showed no signs of concern and continued to stand near Duvain.

Eventually, the skin upon Feyrith’s forehead ripped apart in the shape of a symbol. Blackened blood dripped from the wound.

Feyrith’s mouth appeared to grimace. But, the muscles and skin kept pulled – stretching the lips to the point of deformation. The body’s teethe and gums laid bare. Its maw slowly opene.

And finally, the body ceased movement.

Then it spoke.

₩Ⱨ₳₮ ĐØ₮Ⱨ ₮ⱧɆɆ ĐɆ₴łⱤɆ?

 

[Aerdeth]

Aerdeth scowled at the prince's assumption they fought for the same cause, once again he was reminded why he hated the nobility and royalty of the inner woods, they have been far too removed from what happens on the fridges of the woods, too far from its effects and repercussions.

Aerdeth drew his blade in a quick and single motion but he was not quick enough to stop the prince from slicing the young elf's neck. the blade hovered around the prince's neck, and with a clean motion, he could slice Dûvain's neck like Dûvain had just done with the young Feyrith. Aerdeth's eye fixed on Dûvain's, it was sharp, focused and spoke that he wouldn't hesitate to kill a prince of Fal'Addas if he deemed it necessary.

Aerdeth's eye remained on Dûvain, even as moonlight disappeared from above leaving only firelight to illuminate the forest around them. his eye only moved once Feyrith’s body began to twitch and convulse as he watched the outlander's foul magic permeate through the dead elf's body as his face was marked with a symbol he was unfamiliar with and his mouth turned into a sinister and unsettling smile like a grimace.

Everything about this to Aerdeth screamed wrong and unnatural, this was corruption of the natural order, and it was everything the Falwood was against. "happy now prince? you've now invited corruption and evil into our home."