Mavarion took the impaled rabbit from Gia and brought a knife out. It was a small knife, used for simply cutting of food. He drew the rabbit from the stick and set the stick aside. The now just warm rabbit he held in one hand while he cut bits of meat off it with his knife.
After a few minutes of silence, Gia spoke, and Mavarion looked up at her without speaking. He continued eating, but simply stared at Gia for long moments, long enough to make almost anyone uncomfortable who tried to meet his pupil-less gaze. It was obvious he was having some sort of internal debate.
How much can I tell her? Is it time yet? She's not ready... I must wait until she is bound to me in such a way that leaving will no longer be a viable option ...
Mavarion slowly set the rabbit on the cloth and finished chewing the mouthful of rabbit he had. He looked at Gia for another moment, his eyes never having left her face as he searched for a reaction to his silence.
His deep, strong voice breaking the silence was startling. "Let me just say that for now, we will be here for at least the next day and night. For now, that will have to do. I am not a very trusting person, and I need to know that you have control..." Mavarion paused and raised an eyebrow, the slightest lift to the corners of his lips showing his amusement as he nodded once, as if to confirm that he did, in fact, know.
"I do need your help in the immediate future, but if you think that you would prefer to leave, now is the time. I would like nothing better than to have a companion again, after all these years, but there are ... plans ... afoot that cannot become common knowledge. The decision to stay is yours. But be careful, for the decision to let you leave will be mine..."
Mavarion reached for the rabbit again, making it clear he was finished. He had given her the option, which was not something he usually did. In his years of experience, however, he had learned that those who chose to stay of their own free will were often the ones who were the strongest allies.
And those were the allies he needed.
Hideout
The words reached Gia's ears after she snapped back from her brief mind-break. She didn't recognize that he'd been staring at her, gaging her. It didn't seem strange to her though. She also had a habit of staring at people. What was he doing, to sound almost... Gia didn't know. He seemed so serious.
And it was quite obvious that he knew she was a werewolf. It didn't seem to bother him, though... No, it couldn't bother him. He was offering to tolerate her presence for a longer period of time, and he didn't seem to be about to run at her either shouting a spell or waving a pitchfork.
And he also sounded rather possessive about her life if she chose to stay with him for longer. Like a wolf, almost, who was defending so bit of meat in a hard winter. Gia leaned up against the side of the temple slowly, and chose her words carefully.
"You know I am a werewolf," she began slowly. "You know, and you're not chasing me away. I have to say, that is very odd behavior from a human. And even stranger, knowing that I am what I am, you trusted me enough to sleep around me, and at night no less. With an almost full moon. You are very odd for a human that way."
Gia paused, then continued. "I have no where else to go, and I know no one else. As I said, you didn't chase me, and haven't as of yet, and that makes you better than all other humans that I have met. I will stay with you, if you are sure. I don't know what you're trying to do, but I have no allegiance to anyone... except you."
It was true, too. Gia, like her lupine 'friend,' didn't really understand the concept of good or evil. Whatever Mavarion was doing, she'd go along with it because no one had ever taught her differently, taught her about right or wrong, and the wolf knew only loyalty.
And it was quite obvious that he knew she was a werewolf. It didn't seem to bother him, though... No, it couldn't bother him. He was offering to tolerate her presence for a longer period of time, and he didn't seem to be about to run at her either shouting a spell or waving a pitchfork.
And he also sounded rather possessive about her life if she chose to stay with him for longer. Like a wolf, almost, who was defending so bit of meat in a hard winter. Gia leaned up against the side of the temple slowly, and chose her words carefully.
"You know I am a werewolf," she began slowly. "You know, and you're not chasing me away. I have to say, that is very odd behavior from a human. And even stranger, knowing that I am what I am, you trusted me enough to sleep around me, and at night no less. With an almost full moon. You are very odd for a human that way."
Gia paused, then continued. "I have no where else to go, and I know no one else. As I said, you didn't chase me, and haven't as of yet, and that makes you better than all other humans that I have met. I will stay with you, if you are sure. I don't know what you're trying to do, but I have no allegiance to anyone... except you."
It was true, too. Gia, like her lupine 'friend,' didn't really understand the concept of good or evil. Whatever Mavarion was doing, she'd go along with it because no one had ever taught her differently, taught her about right or wrong, and the wolf knew only loyalty.
Mavarion continued eating the rabbit, listening intently even though he appeared completely relaxed. He cut a bit of his cheese and ate it. He wasn't really when Gia admitted that she was a werewolf, but he wasn't sure why he had decided to sleep where she could get to him. He thought it might have been a decision guided by his goddess, or it could have been a decision guided by his own subconscious. Whatever the reason, it seemed to have worked in his favor.
Once she had finished, he nodded slowly. It was what he had expected, but hadn't hoped for. Yet, there were things that she couldn't see yet.
The approaching darkness finally registered on Mavarion. His pupil-less eyes ran over the horizon that he could see, searching for the moon. There was still a couple hours left before dusk fell, and the magic he needed would be strongest.
Mavarion looked at Gia again, and began speaking. "You can stay with me, but there are still things I cannot allow you to see... yet." He took a last bite of the rabbit, leaving just bones and sinew, with very few scraps of meat left.
He stood and looked down at Gia. "I need your help first, however. Tonight is going to be a night of great magic. I'll ask you to guard the area, not to allow people into the temple tonight. Keep them all away, and do not come in no matter what you hear." He looked at her to make sure she understood, then turned and entered the temple. "Come with me first. I need your young strength."
Once she had finished, he nodded slowly. It was what he had expected, but hadn't hoped for. Yet, there were things that she couldn't see yet.
The approaching darkness finally registered on Mavarion. His pupil-less eyes ran over the horizon that he could see, searching for the moon. There was still a couple hours left before dusk fell, and the magic he needed would be strongest.
Mavarion looked at Gia again, and began speaking. "You can stay with me, but there are still things I cannot allow you to see... yet." He took a last bite of the rabbit, leaving just bones and sinew, with very few scraps of meat left.
He stood and looked down at Gia. "I need your help first, however. Tonight is going to be a night of great magic. I'll ask you to guard the area, not to allow people into the temple tonight. Keep them all away, and do not come in no matter what you hear." He looked at her to make sure she understood, then turned and entered the temple. "Come with me first. I need your young strength."
You have no where to hide, nowhere to run, your village will burn like the heart of the sun. With infinite glee, it is going to be me who slaughters your world.
Gia stood as well after banking the fire to ensure that it didn't get out of control while they went wherever they were going. She looked down at her bow and decided to leave it. She might get it later.
She smiled a little at Mavarion. "Guarding I can do rather well." She didn't ask about the things she couldn't see yet. She knew that if she would get to see them ever, asking and begging wouldn't help, and made her sound like an idiot anyway.
Gia looked up at the sky. In a few hours time she would gain strength and her area of awareness would heighten as it grew darker and the moonlight grew stronger. The wolf would be happy with both her human mistress and their new 'packleader,' as the creature was coming to think of Mavarion. And anyway, a wolf was the best guardian.
If Mavarion said that no one was to enter the temple, no one would enter the temple.
It wasn't quite blind obediance, not quite. Close though. And the wolf just wanted a task that she could accomplish without falling into a river and having to haul herself out. Which ended up reminding Gia of her cuts, which were completely gone. Her energy had returned with the food and the growing darkness as well.
Her eyes began to take on just a hint of the feral sheen again as she walked around the fire to Mav. "Show me what to do."
She smiled a little at Mavarion. "Guarding I can do rather well." She didn't ask about the things she couldn't see yet. She knew that if she would get to see them ever, asking and begging wouldn't help, and made her sound like an idiot anyway.
Gia looked up at the sky. In a few hours time she would gain strength and her area of awareness would heighten as it grew darker and the moonlight grew stronger. The wolf would be happy with both her human mistress and their new 'packleader,' as the creature was coming to think of Mavarion. And anyway, a wolf was the best guardian.
If Mavarion said that no one was to enter the temple, no one would enter the temple.
It wasn't quite blind obediance, not quite. Close though. And the wolf just wanted a task that she could accomplish without falling into a river and having to haul herself out. Which ended up reminding Gia of her cuts, which were completely gone. Her energy had returned with the food and the growing darkness as well.
Her eyes began to take on just a hint of the feral sheen again as she walked around the fire to Mav. "Show me what to do."
Mavarion stopped at the doorway, then reached over and grabbed a stick from the fire. He'd need the light, and he didn't want to deplete any more of his strength than was necessary. He turned back and headed inside, letting Gia follow him in.
He strode up the center aisle of the temple, his eyes fixed only on the altar before him. This would help her, and it would be he who attained the first major step towards their mutual goal. Or at least, what he thought was their mutual goal.
When he reached the dais, he climbed up the steps and stopped by the stone pulpit, patting it with a hand.
"I need you to move this closer to the altar there. I'll help, or as much as this frail body can, anyways." His mouth twisted wryly even as disdain colored his words.
Mavarion turned away and moved to where the other torches were sitting in brackets. He quickly touched the tip of the burning stick to the ends of the unlit torches, brightening the area. He put the stick aside, letting it burn itself out in a harmless area as it lent its own feeble light to the proceedings.
Mavarion came back to Gia then, and lined up to help her push the heavy stone pulpit towards the altar.
He strode up the center aisle of the temple, his eyes fixed only on the altar before him. This would help her, and it would be he who attained the first major step towards their mutual goal. Or at least, what he thought was their mutual goal.
When he reached the dais, he climbed up the steps and stopped by the stone pulpit, patting it with a hand.
"I need you to move this closer to the altar there. I'll help, or as much as this frail body can, anyways." His mouth twisted wryly even as disdain colored his words.
Mavarion turned away and moved to where the other torches were sitting in brackets. He quickly touched the tip of the burning stick to the ends of the unlit torches, brightening the area. He put the stick aside, letting it burn itself out in a harmless area as it lent its own feeble light to the proceedings.
Mavarion came back to Gia then, and lined up to help her push the heavy stone pulpit towards the altar.
You have no where to hide, nowhere to run, your village will burn like the heart of the sun. With infinite glee, it is going to be me who slaughters your world.
Gia eyed the pulpit. It looked heavy... for a human, anyway. "I will do it. I don't think i will need your help, but thank you." She walked up to it and set her shoulder to it after pacing out the distance to the alter. it was not great space to cover, and she knew that she could do it, with possibly just a little strain.
She mentally counted to four, and then started to shove the pulpit along the path that she had walked. It was heavier than she had expected, and she drew back a little after her first try. She didn't want Mavarion to deplete his strength, because it was obvious that he would need it later for something, what she didn't know. It was her duty to move the stone pulpit, and she would.
She worked on sliding the stone across the ground again and failed a second time, which just got her annoyed. And now that she didn't have to worry about the wolf form in front of Mav...
Gia took on a larger and stronger form of her wolf, the great russet-red brown animal of bone and sinew much stronger than a human. She set the broad side of her powerful shoulder to the rock once more and pushed, snarling softly. It began to slide, but Gia didn't stop to see her progress.
The rock soon stopped moving as Gia reached the place Mav had motioned to. She shrank in size, down to a smaller lupine form, more agile, and looked up to Mav's face. The wolf blinked in the light--although it wouldn't be bright for a human, to the sensitive lycan eyes it was strong, because her body was telling her that night was fast falling.
Gia growled a little, questioning as a wolf if there was anything else to do. She hoped that Mavarion was preceptive enough to pick up on her way of asking. It was annoying to take the wolf form for such a short time, and then switch back into the human body without anything to do. She'd switch if she had to, but she didn't want to.
To Gia, the wolf form was her release. Everything was much simpler to the animal--there were packmembers to be obeyed, food to be caught, and safety to be found before sleep. The human mind was possibly capable of more though, but with that capability came stress and other factors that Gia didn't like to deal with.
So she'd stick with the wolf for as long as she could, which would hopefully be until dawn, or whenever Mavarion needed her or she felt like building a fire. She could pile and place the tinder and sticks as a wolf, but lighting the fire was harder with paws.
She looked up at Mavarion, waiting to see if her had understood her growl. She repeated it, trying as hard as she could to make it sound questioning.
She mentally counted to four, and then started to shove the pulpit along the path that she had walked. It was heavier than she had expected, and she drew back a little after her first try. She didn't want Mavarion to deplete his strength, because it was obvious that he would need it later for something, what she didn't know. It was her duty to move the stone pulpit, and she would.
She worked on sliding the stone across the ground again and failed a second time, which just got her annoyed. And now that she didn't have to worry about the wolf form in front of Mav...
Gia took on a larger and stronger form of her wolf, the great russet-red brown animal of bone and sinew much stronger than a human. She set the broad side of her powerful shoulder to the rock once more and pushed, snarling softly. It began to slide, but Gia didn't stop to see her progress.
The rock soon stopped moving as Gia reached the place Mav had motioned to. She shrank in size, down to a smaller lupine form, more agile, and looked up to Mav's face. The wolf blinked in the light--although it wouldn't be bright for a human, to the sensitive lycan eyes it was strong, because her body was telling her that night was fast falling.
Gia growled a little, questioning as a wolf if there was anything else to do. She hoped that Mavarion was preceptive enough to pick up on her way of asking. It was annoying to take the wolf form for such a short time, and then switch back into the human body without anything to do. She'd switch if she had to, but she didn't want to.
To Gia, the wolf form was her release. Everything was much simpler to the animal--there were packmembers to be obeyed, food to be caught, and safety to be found before sleep. The human mind was possibly capable of more though, but with that capability came stress and other factors that Gia didn't like to deal with.
So she'd stick with the wolf for as long as she could, which would hopefully be until dawn, or whenever Mavarion needed her or she felt like building a fire. She could pile and place the tinder and sticks as a wolf, but lighting the fire was harder with paws.
She looked up at Mavarion, waiting to see if her had understood her growl. She repeated it, trying as hard as she could to make it sound questioning.
The pulpit was heavy, and Mavarion knew that he wouldn't be able to move it on his own. When Gia said she would do it herself, Mavarion simply nodded and stepped away. He walked several paces away and turned to watch, crossing his arms over his chest. There was really little else left for physical preparation for the night's work.
After several failed attempts, Mavarion got to see something that he hadn't expected from Gia. With only a brief look in his direction, she ... shifted ... from a human into a wolf. The change was quick, but he was able to see the melding for features from one form into another. He was beginning to think that Gia was a little more feral than other werewolves, since she seemed to react with animal instincts as often as with human.
The large wolf put it's shoulder into the pulpit and, with a snarl, began pushing the large stone across the dais. When the pulpit was at near enough the correct spot, Mavarion stepped forward to stop her, but the large she-wolf had already decided it was enough. A small half-smile turned up the corner of one side of his mouth. He liked it when his help could anticipate.
The large wolf shifted into a smaller, more lithe form, which then looked up at him. The growl that came out gave him pause, but something about the second growl, and the way the wolf was looking at him, made him think that perhaps she was asking a question.
Mavarion slowly nodded, then said, "That is all I have for you at the moment. Go if you wish, but make sure no one disturbs me. If you have great need, howl from the doorway, but do not come in. There are things you are not prepared to see yet."
He looked at her for another few moments, then glanced towards the doorway. Another hour until dusk. He turned towards the pulpit and altar to begin preparation.
After several failed attempts, Mavarion got to see something that he hadn't expected from Gia. With only a brief look in his direction, she ... shifted ... from a human into a wolf. The change was quick, but he was able to see the melding for features from one form into another. He was beginning to think that Gia was a little more feral than other werewolves, since she seemed to react with animal instincts as often as with human.
The large wolf put it's shoulder into the pulpit and, with a snarl, began pushing the large stone across the dais. When the pulpit was at near enough the correct spot, Mavarion stepped forward to stop her, but the large she-wolf had already decided it was enough. A small half-smile turned up the corner of one side of his mouth. He liked it when his help could anticipate.
The large wolf shifted into a smaller, more lithe form, which then looked up at him. The growl that came out gave him pause, but something about the second growl, and the way the wolf was looking at him, made him think that perhaps she was asking a question.
Mavarion slowly nodded, then said, "That is all I have for you at the moment. Go if you wish, but make sure no one disturbs me. If you have great need, howl from the doorway, but do not come in. There are things you are not prepared to see yet."
He looked at her for another few moments, then glanced towards the doorway. Another hour until dusk. He turned towards the pulpit and altar to begin preparation.
You have no where to hide, nowhere to run, your village will burn like the heart of the sun. With infinite glee, it is going to be me who slaughters your world.
Gia nodded her lupine head and turned and trotted out the doorway into the darkening light. She looked from left to right, then walked down the few steps of the temple and sat down on the lowest one.
A light wind tickled her fur, bringing scents of the hunt, but she was not hungry, and she had a job to complete. The wolf opened her mouth and lightly panted, simply for something to do. She wondered if any humans would try to come to the temple. They wouldn't get in, of course, but...
Gia lay down on the steps and put her head onto her forepaws, closing her eyes to sharpen her scent and hearing. Her thoughts slowly drifted, to her first fight that she'd had to defend herself as a wolf. Normally she had tried to run from danger at the age of fifteen, before she had met the caravan of traders and they had taken her in. However, some human male who just wanted to have his way with a young girl, alone and apparently helpless wandering around without a home to go to.
Gia snarled sliently at the memory of that human. By that point in time, she had thought that most humans were pretty bad, even her parents, and this encounter had only served to turn her even further off of the human race. She smoothed over her facial expression as she continued to think about her first fight as a wolf.
The wolf had come because the human girl was losing the fight. She'd never outright shifted into a wolf before, wasn't sure how to, but the wolf had come of her own accord. Gia hadn't known what the firelight had suddenly seemed so much brighter, or the man had been gasping and backing away in fear. She didn't know why it had seemed right to lunge from all four's to attack the man, and kill him.
Or why it had seemed appropriate to howl after she had killed him. Gia had fled the clearing and ran to a slow river with ponds, intending only to cup her hands and drink of the water, but somehow her hands couldn't get the water, so she looked over the pond trying to drink and had seen the wolf.
She was scared, and rightly so, until the wolf had spoken to her. I'm your other side, and if you're frightened of me there is nothing I can do to help you. The wolf had said. After that, everything had seemed okay.
Gia had got into more fights, and always the wolf aided her. The great brown wolf on the temple steps let out a great sigh and let her mind wander again, as there was no scent on the air besides the hunt smells, her own scent, and the only human's smell was Mavarion.
A light wind tickled her fur, bringing scents of the hunt, but she was not hungry, and she had a job to complete. The wolf opened her mouth and lightly panted, simply for something to do. She wondered if any humans would try to come to the temple. They wouldn't get in, of course, but...
Gia lay down on the steps and put her head onto her forepaws, closing her eyes to sharpen her scent and hearing. Her thoughts slowly drifted, to her first fight that she'd had to defend herself as a wolf. Normally she had tried to run from danger at the age of fifteen, before she had met the caravan of traders and they had taken her in. However, some human male who just wanted to have his way with a young girl, alone and apparently helpless wandering around without a home to go to.
Gia snarled sliently at the memory of that human. By that point in time, she had thought that most humans were pretty bad, even her parents, and this encounter had only served to turn her even further off of the human race. She smoothed over her facial expression as she continued to think about her first fight as a wolf.
The wolf had come because the human girl was losing the fight. She'd never outright shifted into a wolf before, wasn't sure how to, but the wolf had come of her own accord. Gia hadn't known what the firelight had suddenly seemed so much brighter, or the man had been gasping and backing away in fear. She didn't know why it had seemed right to lunge from all four's to attack the man, and kill him.
Or why it had seemed appropriate to howl after she had killed him. Gia had fled the clearing and ran to a slow river with ponds, intending only to cup her hands and drink of the water, but somehow her hands couldn't get the water, so she looked over the pond trying to drink and had seen the wolf.
She was scared, and rightly so, until the wolf had spoken to her. I'm your other side, and if you're frightened of me there is nothing I can do to help you. The wolf had said. After that, everything had seemed okay.
Gia had got into more fights, and always the wolf aided her. The great brown wolf on the temple steps let out a great sigh and let her mind wander again, as there was no scent on the air besides the hunt smells, her own scent, and the only human's smell was Mavarion.
Mavarion watched Gia as she padded from the temple. Yes, she was much more feral than the previous werewolves he had known... although the others -had- been attacking him. But the thought behind it was that he knew they had more control over the wolf than Gia seemed to. Or at least, that's what it seemed from personal observation.
Giving his head an abrupt shake to clear errant thoughts, Mavarion re-focused on the task at hand. He walked towards the altar and vaulted up onto it by placing a hand palm down. He turned and sat, setting himself cross-legged and straight-backed, facing the entrance to the temple. The light from the torches behind him backlit him eerily as he settled into his pre-spellcasting meditations.
Taking a deep breath, Mavarion settled into a deep trance. His senses were still open and perceptive, but he closed himself from them, although he kept himself aware enough to pull out of the trance should something disturb his meditations in the hour before true dusk. Time drifted on an endless rope, appearing to both speed by and slow to nearly a stop.
An hour went by in the time it took him to gather the strength to cast the two spells that would be needed. He harnessed the latent energy of the time of day where there was both beginning and end; the time where darkness came to rule the world of man.
Mavarion's eyes popped open with fifteen minutes remaining to full dusk. With the extra energy and power already gathered around and within him, Mavarion quickly slipped from his cross-legged position on the altar to the floor. The extra energy made him feel almost young again, but it actually only allowed him to forget the aches and pains of old age. He dipped a hand into an inside robe pocket and pulled a small pouch of powdered sulfur. Bending, he drew a circle fifteen feet by fifteen feet to the left of the altar with the powdered sulfur, so that the edge of the circle nearly touched the front left corner of the altar. Careful not to smear the lines of the circle, Mavarion stepped into it and began to draw four blood drops radiating out from the circle to touch the edge. The point of each drop touched the exact center of the circle. Much practice had gone into the drawing of this particular symbol, and Mavarion drew it without so much as a pause.
Careful again of the lines, Mavarion stepped out of the circle and quickly surveyed his work. The lines were as steady as they had been when he was younger, and each was as they should be.
Mavarion tied the top of the small pouch and replaced it in his inside robe pocket, though the pouch was nearly empty. He would need more powdered sulfur soon.
With the circle drawn, Mavarion had nearly ten minutes left until full dark. He could feel the power swelling in the air, swelling within himself. It was nearly time to harness it, but he still needed a sacrifice. A small smirk grew on his face as he began to chant. Grailth didn't enjoy being called this way, but Mavarion had need of him.
Words of a long dead language spilled from his lips, gathering power as he went along. The torchlight dimmed as the power filled the room, though this was only the first of the two spells Mavarion would need to cast.
The lines of the circle Mavarion had drawn began to glow, and where the circle touched the shapes meant to represent blood drops, light raced through those to the center. Once all the lines of light reached the center, a pulsing light began from that point, lifting several feet into the air. A split between the astral plane and this plane began to open in the center of the light, the hole in the fabric of the world outlined by the glowing light in the air.
All sound outside of the temple was suppressed by the thickness of the temple itself, as well as the thickness of the energies surrounding the dais.Practically shouting the last words of the spell, Mavarion brought his hands together, creating the sound of a thunderous boom as the split in the world closed. Where the hole in the fabric of the planes used to be sat a thrown of human skulls, upon which sat a grotesque monstrosity.
Grailth, a Demon Prince, sat upon the throne, his forked tail waving behind him in irritation. Standing nine feet tall, when he deigned to stand, his skin shone like polished obsidian. Six short black horns seemed to sprout from his head, although in the thick tangle of his dark hair, it was hard to tell. Yellowed fangs split his lips, and pointed ears stuck out from the tangled hair. One taloned, six-fingered hand was wrapped around the hilt of a massive great sword, while the other was tracing circles on the skull where his hand rested.
"You have called me at an inconvenient time, Mavarion Deklar," the demon spoke in a loud, deep voice that rasped across the eardrums like nails over a chalkboard. "There seems to be something ... different about you since last I saw you, human."
Mavarion looked down at himself and back to the demon. "I have aged since last I called you, Prince of Demons, as humans do on this plane. However, there is not much time to reminisce. You are holding two commodities for me, and I require the first of them, as well as your services."
Grailth leaned forward, glowing yellow eyes glaring into Mavarion's. At the same time, the Demon Prince pushed at the barriers holding him within the confines of the circle, testing for a weakness that wasn't there. Even still, Mavarion's hold on the magical energies surrounding him as dusk continued to draw near was the only thing that kept the demon from breaking the hold and vanishing back to the astral plane.
"Are you still as strong as you once were, Mavarion Deklar? Should we test again, and see who lasts longer?"
Mavarion grimaced at the Demon Prince as Grailth pushed against the defenses of the circle and Mavarion's own magic. The battle of wills ended in mere seconds, but it felt like long minutes. Sweat beaded on Mavarion's forehead as he stood on the outside of the circle and watched Grailth sit back.
With an amused expression, Grailth settled into his throne of skulls and reached a hand behind it. He drew out a young woman dressed in ragged shaman's clothes and tossed her down at the foot of his throne. The young woman simply wept on her knees, her will broken long ago in her eternal torment supplied by the Demon Prince.
Mavarion smiled, and beckoned for the shaman to come to him. With a glance up at the Demon Prince, who nodded his affirmation to the shaman, the young woman stepped from the circle, and even as she stepped on and shuffled over the lines of sulfur, those lines remained stationary. She wasn't quite out of the astral plane yet, until she stepped out of the final line in the circle.
Mavarion stepped forward and grabbed her arm, pulling her to the altar. He whispered to her, even as Grailth whispered his own assurances for the shaman to hear in her head. The shaman climbed up onto the altar and lay back, her breathing rapid and her eyes as wide as they could open. She stared at nothing and did not resist, having long ago learned that resisting would never help. She had been in Grailth's care for nearly forty years, and had not aged a day. Even if he could have lived forever, Mavarion would not have traded his fate for hers, especially since it had been he who had given her care over to Grailth in preparation for events such as today. Of course, at the time, he hadn't known what he would need her and the other 'commodity' for. Still, he only knew what he would need this one for.
Mavarion reached into his robe and pulled a six inch long ceremonial dagger from a sheath on his right hip. He set the dagger on the pulpit beside him, close at hand, then knelt next to the altar. He took a flask of foul smelling water from a robe within the folds of his robe and took the stopper from the top. Placing a finger over the neck of the bottle, he upended it enough to wet his finger. Then, setting the flask off to the side where it wouldn't get knocked over, he began tracing words in an ancient language on the shaman's forehead.
He had chosen a shaman for this particular ceremony because he would be able to capture her excess magical energies and transfer them at the time of his choosing, perhaps using some if his own capabilities were depleted too quickly.
When he finished the writing, he brought his hands down to the shaman's one piece dress, which was made from varying patches of cloth. This was how her culture determined who was shaman from who was a simple hunter or laborer. With a rough jerk powered by the magical energies flowing through him, Mavarion ripped the entire piece of clothing from the shaman's body, leaving her naked. She flinched, and a low moan escaped her throat before she clenched it shut. The shaman squeezed her brown eyes closed against the sight of what was happening above her, even as Mavarion began the chant for his final spell.
Mavarion's voice rose and fell with the words of the spell, spoken in the ancient language that even he did not know the name of. The words of the spell were burned into his memory from years of studying, found in a book that had sat beneath the ceremonial dagger now sitting on the pulpit next to him.
Minutes passed as Mavarion chanted. Magical energy flowed around and through him, and as dusk approached, they reached their peak. Mavarion finished the chant and grabbed the dagger, whispering a quick command to Grailth.
"Release her ..."
Grailth, understanding that the release of powers would be greater if the shaman were fully aware of what was happening, nodded once and released the hold he had on her mind. The shaman's eyes popped open to see Mavarion perched above her, his black, pupil-less eyes staring down at her as magic coursed through him. It was quite clear to her that this man holding a dagger above her was well beyond the bounds of sanity, but she only had enough time to draw in a breath to scream before Mavarion brought the dagger down, both hands driving the dagger through her heart.
The scream was wrenched free, the only sound that truly reached out beyond the walls of the temple, but cut short as Mavarion withdrew the knife and ran it quickly across the shaman's throat. Blood fountained once, but immediately stopped since the heart no longer beat to pump blood.
Magical energies rushed through Mavarion, and he struggled to control them, to harness them and tie them to his bidding. Even as these powers raced through him, he chanted, calling his goddess' name. He had done something similar to this before, but something ... changed ... as he called for his goddess to come.
More magical energy than what had been expected flowed through the dusk air, small amounts of energy that continued to build as the moments passed. Unexpected fluctuations flowed through him, as if, at the same moment, someone else was making numerous, smaller sacrifices. Magic scoured through him, dragged him over a bed of coals, drowned him in oceans of water, smothered him in unbreathable air. He dropped to his knees, the name of his goddess on his tongue, but unable to pass his lips as he struggled to control the magic before it ripped his soul from his body.
Mavarion's eyes fell on Grailth. The Demon Prince was leaned forward, licking his lips with a forked tongue as he watched and waited. Mavarion looked down at where he knelt, only inches from crossing the line of powdered sulfur and breaking the spell keeping Grailth from fully entering the physical plane.
With control learned through many years of practice, Mavarion controlled the magic, turning it to his bidding. He moved away from the circle of sulfur, his face expressionless as he went back to his work. The fluctuations had stopped, but he still had more magic than he had intended to use.
With an effort, he turned back to the body of the shaman and slipped the ceremonial dagger back into the heart, pushing it down until the tip contacted the stone of the altar between two ribs. He stood, swaying slightly as he raised his hands and brought them together again in a resounding thunderclap that shook the foundations of the temple and brought bits of dust drifting down from the roof above. The thunderclap created enough wind to blow out both torches.
Mavarion whispered the final words of the spell in a tongue humans could understand. "Energy for you, my Goddess. Heal yourself, so the step forward will be easier."
Mavarion dropped back to his knees with a painful jolt as the magical energy drained from him in one short flood. The only light in the temple came from the embers of the torches, and the Demon Prince's eyes.
Giving his head an abrupt shake to clear errant thoughts, Mavarion re-focused on the task at hand. He walked towards the altar and vaulted up onto it by placing a hand palm down. He turned and sat, setting himself cross-legged and straight-backed, facing the entrance to the temple. The light from the torches behind him backlit him eerily as he settled into his pre-spellcasting meditations.
Taking a deep breath, Mavarion settled into a deep trance. His senses were still open and perceptive, but he closed himself from them, although he kept himself aware enough to pull out of the trance should something disturb his meditations in the hour before true dusk. Time drifted on an endless rope, appearing to both speed by and slow to nearly a stop.
An hour went by in the time it took him to gather the strength to cast the two spells that would be needed. He harnessed the latent energy of the time of day where there was both beginning and end; the time where darkness came to rule the world of man.
Mavarion's eyes popped open with fifteen minutes remaining to full dusk. With the extra energy and power already gathered around and within him, Mavarion quickly slipped from his cross-legged position on the altar to the floor. The extra energy made him feel almost young again, but it actually only allowed him to forget the aches and pains of old age. He dipped a hand into an inside robe pocket and pulled a small pouch of powdered sulfur. Bending, he drew a circle fifteen feet by fifteen feet to the left of the altar with the powdered sulfur, so that the edge of the circle nearly touched the front left corner of the altar. Careful not to smear the lines of the circle, Mavarion stepped into it and began to draw four blood drops radiating out from the circle to touch the edge. The point of each drop touched the exact center of the circle. Much practice had gone into the drawing of this particular symbol, and Mavarion drew it without so much as a pause.
Careful again of the lines, Mavarion stepped out of the circle and quickly surveyed his work. The lines were as steady as they had been when he was younger, and each was as they should be.
Mavarion tied the top of the small pouch and replaced it in his inside robe pocket, though the pouch was nearly empty. He would need more powdered sulfur soon.
With the circle drawn, Mavarion had nearly ten minutes left until full dark. He could feel the power swelling in the air, swelling within himself. It was nearly time to harness it, but he still needed a sacrifice. A small smirk grew on his face as he began to chant. Grailth didn't enjoy being called this way, but Mavarion had need of him.
Words of a long dead language spilled from his lips, gathering power as he went along. The torchlight dimmed as the power filled the room, though this was only the first of the two spells Mavarion would need to cast.
The lines of the circle Mavarion had drawn began to glow, and where the circle touched the shapes meant to represent blood drops, light raced through those to the center. Once all the lines of light reached the center, a pulsing light began from that point, lifting several feet into the air. A split between the astral plane and this plane began to open in the center of the light, the hole in the fabric of the world outlined by the glowing light in the air.
All sound outside of the temple was suppressed by the thickness of the temple itself, as well as the thickness of the energies surrounding the dais.Practically shouting the last words of the spell, Mavarion brought his hands together, creating the sound of a thunderous boom as the split in the world closed. Where the hole in the fabric of the planes used to be sat a thrown of human skulls, upon which sat a grotesque monstrosity.
Grailth, a Demon Prince, sat upon the throne, his forked tail waving behind him in irritation. Standing nine feet tall, when he deigned to stand, his skin shone like polished obsidian. Six short black horns seemed to sprout from his head, although in the thick tangle of his dark hair, it was hard to tell. Yellowed fangs split his lips, and pointed ears stuck out from the tangled hair. One taloned, six-fingered hand was wrapped around the hilt of a massive great sword, while the other was tracing circles on the skull where his hand rested.
"You have called me at an inconvenient time, Mavarion Deklar," the demon spoke in a loud, deep voice that rasped across the eardrums like nails over a chalkboard. "There seems to be something ... different about you since last I saw you, human."
Mavarion looked down at himself and back to the demon. "I have aged since last I called you, Prince of Demons, as humans do on this plane. However, there is not much time to reminisce. You are holding two commodities for me, and I require the first of them, as well as your services."
Grailth leaned forward, glowing yellow eyes glaring into Mavarion's. At the same time, the Demon Prince pushed at the barriers holding him within the confines of the circle, testing for a weakness that wasn't there. Even still, Mavarion's hold on the magical energies surrounding him as dusk continued to draw near was the only thing that kept the demon from breaking the hold and vanishing back to the astral plane.
"Are you still as strong as you once were, Mavarion Deklar? Should we test again, and see who lasts longer?"
Mavarion grimaced at the Demon Prince as Grailth pushed against the defenses of the circle and Mavarion's own magic. The battle of wills ended in mere seconds, but it felt like long minutes. Sweat beaded on Mavarion's forehead as he stood on the outside of the circle and watched Grailth sit back.
With an amused expression, Grailth settled into his throne of skulls and reached a hand behind it. He drew out a young woman dressed in ragged shaman's clothes and tossed her down at the foot of his throne. The young woman simply wept on her knees, her will broken long ago in her eternal torment supplied by the Demon Prince.
Mavarion smiled, and beckoned for the shaman to come to him. With a glance up at the Demon Prince, who nodded his affirmation to the shaman, the young woman stepped from the circle, and even as she stepped on and shuffled over the lines of sulfur, those lines remained stationary. She wasn't quite out of the astral plane yet, until she stepped out of the final line in the circle.
Mavarion stepped forward and grabbed her arm, pulling her to the altar. He whispered to her, even as Grailth whispered his own assurances for the shaman to hear in her head. The shaman climbed up onto the altar and lay back, her breathing rapid and her eyes as wide as they could open. She stared at nothing and did not resist, having long ago learned that resisting would never help. She had been in Grailth's care for nearly forty years, and had not aged a day. Even if he could have lived forever, Mavarion would not have traded his fate for hers, especially since it had been he who had given her care over to Grailth in preparation for events such as today. Of course, at the time, he hadn't known what he would need her and the other 'commodity' for. Still, he only knew what he would need this one for.
Mavarion reached into his robe and pulled a six inch long ceremonial dagger from a sheath on his right hip. He set the dagger on the pulpit beside him, close at hand, then knelt next to the altar. He took a flask of foul smelling water from a robe within the folds of his robe and took the stopper from the top. Placing a finger over the neck of the bottle, he upended it enough to wet his finger. Then, setting the flask off to the side where it wouldn't get knocked over, he began tracing words in an ancient language on the shaman's forehead.
He had chosen a shaman for this particular ceremony because he would be able to capture her excess magical energies and transfer them at the time of his choosing, perhaps using some if his own capabilities were depleted too quickly.
When he finished the writing, he brought his hands down to the shaman's one piece dress, which was made from varying patches of cloth. This was how her culture determined who was shaman from who was a simple hunter or laborer. With a rough jerk powered by the magical energies flowing through him, Mavarion ripped the entire piece of clothing from the shaman's body, leaving her naked. She flinched, and a low moan escaped her throat before she clenched it shut. The shaman squeezed her brown eyes closed against the sight of what was happening above her, even as Mavarion began the chant for his final spell.
Mavarion's voice rose and fell with the words of the spell, spoken in the ancient language that even he did not know the name of. The words of the spell were burned into his memory from years of studying, found in a book that had sat beneath the ceremonial dagger now sitting on the pulpit next to him.
Minutes passed as Mavarion chanted. Magical energy flowed around and through him, and as dusk approached, they reached their peak. Mavarion finished the chant and grabbed the dagger, whispering a quick command to Grailth.
"Release her ..."
Grailth, understanding that the release of powers would be greater if the shaman were fully aware of what was happening, nodded once and released the hold he had on her mind. The shaman's eyes popped open to see Mavarion perched above her, his black, pupil-less eyes staring down at her as magic coursed through him. It was quite clear to her that this man holding a dagger above her was well beyond the bounds of sanity, but she only had enough time to draw in a breath to scream before Mavarion brought the dagger down, both hands driving the dagger through her heart.
The scream was wrenched free, the only sound that truly reached out beyond the walls of the temple, but cut short as Mavarion withdrew the knife and ran it quickly across the shaman's throat. Blood fountained once, but immediately stopped since the heart no longer beat to pump blood.
Magical energies rushed through Mavarion, and he struggled to control them, to harness them and tie them to his bidding. Even as these powers raced through him, he chanted, calling his goddess' name. He had done something similar to this before, but something ... changed ... as he called for his goddess to come.
More magical energy than what had been expected flowed through the dusk air, small amounts of energy that continued to build as the moments passed. Unexpected fluctuations flowed through him, as if, at the same moment, someone else was making numerous, smaller sacrifices. Magic scoured through him, dragged him over a bed of coals, drowned him in oceans of water, smothered him in unbreathable air. He dropped to his knees, the name of his goddess on his tongue, but unable to pass his lips as he struggled to control the magic before it ripped his soul from his body.
Mavarion's eyes fell on Grailth. The Demon Prince was leaned forward, licking his lips with a forked tongue as he watched and waited. Mavarion looked down at where he knelt, only inches from crossing the line of powdered sulfur and breaking the spell keeping Grailth from fully entering the physical plane.
With control learned through many years of practice, Mavarion controlled the magic, turning it to his bidding. He moved away from the circle of sulfur, his face expressionless as he went back to his work. The fluctuations had stopped, but he still had more magic than he had intended to use.
With an effort, he turned back to the body of the shaman and slipped the ceremonial dagger back into the heart, pushing it down until the tip contacted the stone of the altar between two ribs. He stood, swaying slightly as he raised his hands and brought them together again in a resounding thunderclap that shook the foundations of the temple and brought bits of dust drifting down from the roof above. The thunderclap created enough wind to blow out both torches.
Mavarion whispered the final words of the spell in a tongue humans could understand. "Energy for you, my Goddess. Heal yourself, so the step forward will be easier."
Mavarion dropped back to his knees with a painful jolt as the magical energy drained from him in one short flood. The only light in the temple came from the embers of the torches, and the Demon Prince's eyes.
Last edited by Mavarion on Wed Sep 12, 2007 5:23 pm, edited 2 times in total.
You have no where to hide, nowhere to run, your village will burn like the heart of the sun. With infinite glee, it is going to be me who slaughters your world.
Gia raised her head as the light dimmed and faded. She was tempted to go and have a little peek into the temple, but resisted, as were her orders. She sighed and stood and stretched as a strange scent hit her sensitive nose.
She snarled softly. Humans, only three of them, approching the temple. Gia had a train of quick thought, with the wolf trying to interject her opinion, which was more or less 'get them with all speed.' The human part of the equation knew better, however.
Fright was best. Then fight. Not always, and if they were only simple humans trying to enter the temple t might be a different story, but if they only wanted to reside by the temple for a short while, Gia could deal with that in a much less messy way.
She lay back down and closed her eyes, to all appearances a big dog sleeping on the steps of the temple. The slight wind was ruffling her fur, but Gia didn't mind the slight coolness of the post-dusk air. And anyway, it was the wind that had brought her the scent.
The humans drew closer, and eventually Gia could tell the they were facing the temple. She still pretended to sleep, but her muscles were involuntarily twitching in antipication.
The humans were whispering softly, and Gia didn't even bother to try and overhear their conversation. As they got even closer, she lifted her head slowly after snapping her eyes open, turnng to face them.
One of the humans muttered something to the tallest of the three, but Gia couldn't understand it clearly. That was a downside of holding the wolf form for longer periods of time--her understanding of human speech got faulty unless she concentrated on it.
Gia snarled softly and they backed slightly, except for the one who had muttered. He made a shooing motion to Gia and she growled a laugh which they mistook for a warning. The other two moved back a little farther, but the other walked foward and climbed a few steps, giving Gia a wide berth.
He was higher than she was on the steps with that move, and it was a bad one.
Gia lunged, turning in a complete half circle as she launched herself into the air and clicking her teeth to meet inside the soft flesh of his underarm. Blood splattered onto the lowest steps of the temple and he scrambled backwards, shouting, but Gia just let out a long snarl, her muzzle slightly bloodstained.
The trio high-tailed it away from the temple, and Gia sat down with a sigh. It had probably been another rash thing to do, but too late. And she felt good, teaching those dumb humans to mess with a fully grown wolf with human intelligence.
But they didn't need to know that.
Gia let out another huff of air as she lay down in her former position. She was content to wait out the night, and she closed her eyes again. She did wonder what Mavarion was doing, but... she'd learn eventually.
She snarled softly. Humans, only three of them, approching the temple. Gia had a train of quick thought, with the wolf trying to interject her opinion, which was more or less 'get them with all speed.' The human part of the equation knew better, however.
Fright was best. Then fight. Not always, and if they were only simple humans trying to enter the temple t might be a different story, but if they only wanted to reside by the temple for a short while, Gia could deal with that in a much less messy way.
She lay back down and closed her eyes, to all appearances a big dog sleeping on the steps of the temple. The slight wind was ruffling her fur, but Gia didn't mind the slight coolness of the post-dusk air. And anyway, it was the wind that had brought her the scent.
The humans drew closer, and eventually Gia could tell the they were facing the temple. She still pretended to sleep, but her muscles were involuntarily twitching in antipication.
The humans were whispering softly, and Gia didn't even bother to try and overhear their conversation. As they got even closer, she lifted her head slowly after snapping her eyes open, turnng to face them.
One of the humans muttered something to the tallest of the three, but Gia couldn't understand it clearly. That was a downside of holding the wolf form for longer periods of time--her understanding of human speech got faulty unless she concentrated on it.
Gia snarled softly and they backed slightly, except for the one who had muttered. He made a shooing motion to Gia and she growled a laugh which they mistook for a warning. The other two moved back a little farther, but the other walked foward and climbed a few steps, giving Gia a wide berth.
He was higher than she was on the steps with that move, and it was a bad one.
Gia lunged, turning in a complete half circle as she launched herself into the air and clicking her teeth to meet inside the soft flesh of his underarm. Blood splattered onto the lowest steps of the temple and he scrambled backwards, shouting, but Gia just let out a long snarl, her muzzle slightly bloodstained.
The trio high-tailed it away from the temple, and Gia sat down with a sigh. It had probably been another rash thing to do, but too late. And she felt good, teaching those dumb humans to mess with a fully grown wolf with human intelligence.
But they didn't need to know that.
Gia let out another huff of air as she lay down in her former position. She was content to wait out the night, and she closed her eyes again. She did wonder what Mavarion was doing, but... she'd learn eventually.
It seemed that it could be a different alley, though her eyes failed her these days. They had rotted through, as had her feet and hands - she could no longer move. Her back and legs were covered in sores and open wounds from her stationary existence, and her heart could only give a weak flutter each moment. This body would soon die. Her priest...for she remembered the priest, though faintly...her priest had failed.
This sense of failure and betrayal kept her alive still. She wanted to wait until she was sure she would live in in another form before she gave up this mortal's corpse. She needed her revenge upon this man, he who had awakened memories long dead, rekindled the bloodlust and fire within. He who had made her long to walk among the mortals, slaughtering as she moved. He had brought all of this back to her - and then he had gone.
Time was liquid, in part because her brain was slowly collapsing. The memories were utterly gone, along with identity, place, meaning. All that she had left was the unerring sense of abandonment by someone she'd trusted. She could hardly remember who - a priest, perhaps? - but she remembered that she had trusted him, and that he had hurt her.
And so her heart pumped on, slowing each day as her body rotted further. And still, she persisted. She'd always been stubborn.
Her hate kept her alive.
But hate can only take a spirit so far.
In, and out. The breath stuttered as the body struggled beyond lungs which no longer cared to function, and an owner who hardly seemed to notice. In, and out. A lung collapsed. Already her body was melding into the ground beneath - when the men came to collect the corpse, they would need to cut her skin from the earth.
In, and -
A voice called a name. Ancient and dead, but familiar with a gut-deep sense of recognition. This voice...this voice...it was calling...for her...
As the body on the altar released its blood, the remaining lung expanded with a gasp and wasted, gaping eyes flew open. The only emotion left to her swelled within her breast - it was hate, powerful and gripping, which she called forth, for relief and gratefulness were beyond her. Only this white, blinding hatred.
Thunder struck within her ears, and the corpse let out a howl of pain as power split the skin and forced the festering puss into the open. But the spirit fed and fed, and its memories returned, and soon it wasn't just hatred which fed her, but rage, and terror, and exhilaration, and oh how she wanted to be free...
The god exploded from its cage of sinew and bone, and the land rushed by as she answered her priest's call.
* * *
The blood drops appeared first, spotting the temple floor as a form shifted and stirred above. The god was whole in spirit, but lacked the body to complete her reawakening. Still, she had a powerful mind, and used this to fashion her image to her own desires.
There was some hate in her blackened eyes as she coalesced the different mental images together to form a whole. She stood before him with a slight tilt to her hips, naked save for the swirling flesh along her torso and bones woven into her hair. The blood that she so craved dripped from these bones, though the drops vanished moments after landing. She was not truly corporeal.
Her eyes broke from him as she twisted her throat to gaze upon this temple. The magic he had sent her swirled around her in a nearly-visible aura of power, reaching out to tentatively lick at the objects nearby, searching for a body to house them.
She maintained her distance, though the once-mortal in her longed to touch another.
She did not appear to notice the demon upon his pedestal of bones, and would not have recognized him had she acknowledged him. He was no relation to her - though one could assume she would not disapprove of his methods.
The sacrifice drew her attention, and she moved forward, giving a wide berth to her priest so as not to lash him with her newly acquired magics. She cocked her head as she gazed upon the ruined body, and a flash of envy filled her. She raised a hand and ran it down along the outline of the feminine, mere inches above the flesh, tracing with her movements the rise and fall of a woman's natural state. Her hand paused over the heart, pierced through by a dagger, and she left her hand to hover as she turned dead eyes upon her priest.
There were no lungs to house the air to speak, nor a throat for the sound to come from, and she remained focused upon maintaining her structure. Speech, even though, lay beyond her abilities at this moment - but she did not care. The hate burned brightly, for its power was now welded into the very mold of her spiritual condition, and abandoning it would lead her to collapse.
And so she simply stood, and gazed upon the man who had promised, and thus far delivered. She could not feel thankful - such a simple emotion lay beyond her thoughts, without the body to grant her a center of focus. Still....she sensed the connection running within this man's veins.
Miles and miles away, a wasted corpse's remaining lung ceased to function as the body collapsed into dust. The god needed it no longer.
This sense of failure and betrayal kept her alive still. She wanted to wait until she was sure she would live in in another form before she gave up this mortal's corpse. She needed her revenge upon this man, he who had awakened memories long dead, rekindled the bloodlust and fire within. He who had made her long to walk among the mortals, slaughtering as she moved. He had brought all of this back to her - and then he had gone.
Time was liquid, in part because her brain was slowly collapsing. The memories were utterly gone, along with identity, place, meaning. All that she had left was the unerring sense of abandonment by someone she'd trusted. She could hardly remember who - a priest, perhaps? - but she remembered that she had trusted him, and that he had hurt her.
And so her heart pumped on, slowing each day as her body rotted further. And still, she persisted. She'd always been stubborn.
Her hate kept her alive.
But hate can only take a spirit so far.
In, and out. The breath stuttered as the body struggled beyond lungs which no longer cared to function, and an owner who hardly seemed to notice. In, and out. A lung collapsed. Already her body was melding into the ground beneath - when the men came to collect the corpse, they would need to cut her skin from the earth.
In, and -
A voice called a name. Ancient and dead, but familiar with a gut-deep sense of recognition. This voice...this voice...it was calling...for her...
As the body on the altar released its blood, the remaining lung expanded with a gasp and wasted, gaping eyes flew open. The only emotion left to her swelled within her breast - it was hate, powerful and gripping, which she called forth, for relief and gratefulness were beyond her. Only this white, blinding hatred.
Thunder struck within her ears, and the corpse let out a howl of pain as power split the skin and forced the festering puss into the open. But the spirit fed and fed, and its memories returned, and soon it wasn't just hatred which fed her, but rage, and terror, and exhilaration, and oh how she wanted to be free...
The god exploded from its cage of sinew and bone, and the land rushed by as she answered her priest's call.
* * *
The blood drops appeared first, spotting the temple floor as a form shifted and stirred above. The god was whole in spirit, but lacked the body to complete her reawakening. Still, she had a powerful mind, and used this to fashion her image to her own desires.
There was some hate in her blackened eyes as she coalesced the different mental images together to form a whole. She stood before him with a slight tilt to her hips, naked save for the swirling flesh along her torso and bones woven into her hair. The blood that she so craved dripped from these bones, though the drops vanished moments after landing. She was not truly corporeal.
Her eyes broke from him as she twisted her throat to gaze upon this temple. The magic he had sent her swirled around her in a nearly-visible aura of power, reaching out to tentatively lick at the objects nearby, searching for a body to house them.
She maintained her distance, though the once-mortal in her longed to touch another.
She did not appear to notice the demon upon his pedestal of bones, and would not have recognized him had she acknowledged him. He was no relation to her - though one could assume she would not disapprove of his methods.
The sacrifice drew her attention, and she moved forward, giving a wide berth to her priest so as not to lash him with her newly acquired magics. She cocked her head as she gazed upon the ruined body, and a flash of envy filled her. She raised a hand and ran it down along the outline of the feminine, mere inches above the flesh, tracing with her movements the rise and fall of a woman's natural state. Her hand paused over the heart, pierced through by a dagger, and she left her hand to hover as she turned dead eyes upon her priest.
There were no lungs to house the air to speak, nor a throat for the sound to come from, and she remained focused upon maintaining her structure. Speech, even though, lay beyond her abilities at this moment - but she did not care. The hate burned brightly, for its power was now welded into the very mold of her spiritual condition, and abandoning it would lead her to collapse.
And so she simply stood, and gazed upon the man who had promised, and thus far delivered. She could not feel thankful - such a simple emotion lay beyond her thoughts, without the body to grant her a center of focus. Still....she sensed the connection running within this man's veins.
Miles and miles away, a wasted corpse's remaining lung ceased to function as the body collapsed into dust. The god needed it no longer.
Gia's dark head shot up at the sound of the scream, which was just as abruptly cut off. She stood, uncertain. There had been no one else in the temple besides Mavarion, she had only scented him.
She paced a few lengths of her own body on the lower steps. She didn't look up into the temple entrance. If the door was closed it would be easier, but... the door wasn't closed. She was just starting to calm down again when an acrid metallic tang infiltrated her sensitive nose. it was blood, yes, but there was a difference in the blood of magic-wielders and nonmagic-wielders.
And this was defenitly a magic-wielder.
Gia whined low in her throat. She had given her word that she would stay, and it was true that noone else would likely welcome her. But what was going on in there?
She took another step up the stairs, but she still couldn't see into the temple. Sight wasn't her best sense, smell was... and Mavarion hadn't said anything about not scenting anything inside the temple.
The wolf gave a nod to herself. She slipped up the stairs at an angle that she couldn't see inside the temple, but she ended up right next to the door. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply.
The 'notes' in the songs of the smells that Gia took in were confusing. Blood was predominant among them, and the traces of a strange... female?... scent. But it was just a light trace of scent, and Gia didn't even know if she was imagining it or not.
Another smell, an animalistic scent also wafted to her nose. But blood was the strongest, and even Mavarion's scent was difficult to pick out. But it was eak in more than just smell--Mavarion himself was weaker than Gia had left him. She knew that in working spells, humans tended to get weaker, but it worried her.
She turned to her hearing next. The only things that she had heard since the scream was Mavarion's voice, so faintly, saying things in some strange language. then some words in the human language that Gia couldn't quite catch--just something about a goddess.
Gia turned away from the doorway and walked back down the steps to her former place beside the dried blood from earlier. She felt like she should clean it off of the temple stairs, but didn't.
the wolf let out a sigh and lay down once more. Her thoughts whirled, directed by the human part of the partnership. There was more than one being in there, but Gia didn't brood too much over that.
Darkness had well and truly fallen, and the large moon was shining above her. It called for a run, a hunt, but Gia ignored it. Another whine echoed in her throat, and she closed her eyes. She settled down to wait again.
She paced a few lengths of her own body on the lower steps. She didn't look up into the temple entrance. If the door was closed it would be easier, but... the door wasn't closed. She was just starting to calm down again when an acrid metallic tang infiltrated her sensitive nose. it was blood, yes, but there was a difference in the blood of magic-wielders and nonmagic-wielders.
And this was defenitly a magic-wielder.
Gia whined low in her throat. She had given her word that she would stay, and it was true that noone else would likely welcome her. But what was going on in there?
She took another step up the stairs, but she still couldn't see into the temple. Sight wasn't her best sense, smell was... and Mavarion hadn't said anything about not scenting anything inside the temple.
The wolf gave a nod to herself. She slipped up the stairs at an angle that she couldn't see inside the temple, but she ended up right next to the door. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply.
The 'notes' in the songs of the smells that Gia took in were confusing. Blood was predominant among them, and the traces of a strange... female?... scent. But it was just a light trace of scent, and Gia didn't even know if she was imagining it or not.
Another smell, an animalistic scent also wafted to her nose. But blood was the strongest, and even Mavarion's scent was difficult to pick out. But it was eak in more than just smell--Mavarion himself was weaker than Gia had left him. She knew that in working spells, humans tended to get weaker, but it worried her.
She turned to her hearing next. The only things that she had heard since the scream was Mavarion's voice, so faintly, saying things in some strange language. then some words in the human language that Gia couldn't quite catch--just something about a goddess.
Gia turned away from the doorway and walked back down the steps to her former place beside the dried blood from earlier. She felt like she should clean it off of the temple stairs, but didn't.
the wolf let out a sigh and lay down once more. Her thoughts whirled, directed by the human part of the partnership. There was more than one being in there, but Gia didn't brood too much over that.
Darkness had well and truly fallen, and the large moon was shining above her. It called for a run, a hunt, but Gia ignored it. Another whine echoed in her throat, and she closed her eyes. She settled down to wait again.
Mavarion remained on his knees in the darkness, to weak to even consider the possibility of standing. The magic that had coursed through him had made him feel young again, even if only for moments and if only for another purpose. He had given up on making himself immortal many, many years before after failed attempt after failed attempt.
Mavarion's mind ran more to destruction than creation.
And he had done it. He had awakened a goddess who had little more than slumbered for centuries, from what he could tell from the ancient text. He had kept the promises he had made when he had first found the dagger that was now stuck through the heart of the shaman sacrifice.
It didn't matter that he couldn't physically see the dagger or the corpse with the torched having been blown out by the wind from the final clap of thunder. His mind's eye recalled the picture perfectly for him. It would be in his memory forever.
Something tugged at his attention. He could almost see...
A form appeared before him. The naked perfection of the blood goddess stood near the altar, looking at him. The bones of her hair dripped blood that splashed to the floor, and vanished moments later. He could do nothing but stare.
She was somehow more ... there ... than she had ever been. Details that he could never make out previously jumped out at him. The skin that had looked rough when last he had seen her was now nearly porcelain smooth, and the calm that surrounded her, even as she stared at him with the hatred he could tell consumed her, replaced the sense of despair and longing for death that Mavarion had felt at their last meeting.
By the time all of this had registered to Mavarion, the goddess had drifted over to the corpse. She stood over it for a time, seeming to study it. Mavarion was too tired and weak to do much more than watch, and he was beginning to have a hard time comprehending. His body and mind screamed for rest.
But he could not rest while the goddess stood before him. She was the proof that he had succeeded. He did not know, nor care, what had happened to the mortal body she had told him she was inhabiting, but he knew that she was back where she needed to be.
She turned towards him, and Mavarion slowly lowered his head to the floor. His forearms held him up as his weak, tired, and old body tried to betray him. Muscles trembled on the point of collapse, but Mavarion held himself stationary through sheer force of will. He had been through worse.
He spoke into the ground the words he had never been able to say to her before.
"Angatdan, my life is yours to command."
Both he and Grailth were impressed that his voice did not tremble.
Mavarion's mind ran more to destruction than creation.
And he had done it. He had awakened a goddess who had little more than slumbered for centuries, from what he could tell from the ancient text. He had kept the promises he had made when he had first found the dagger that was now stuck through the heart of the shaman sacrifice.
It didn't matter that he couldn't physically see the dagger or the corpse with the torched having been blown out by the wind from the final clap of thunder. His mind's eye recalled the picture perfectly for him. It would be in his memory forever.
Something tugged at his attention. He could almost see...
A form appeared before him. The naked perfection of the blood goddess stood near the altar, looking at him. The bones of her hair dripped blood that splashed to the floor, and vanished moments later. He could do nothing but stare.
She was somehow more ... there ... than she had ever been. Details that he could never make out previously jumped out at him. The skin that had looked rough when last he had seen her was now nearly porcelain smooth, and the calm that surrounded her, even as she stared at him with the hatred he could tell consumed her, replaced the sense of despair and longing for death that Mavarion had felt at their last meeting.
By the time all of this had registered to Mavarion, the goddess had drifted over to the corpse. She stood over it for a time, seeming to study it. Mavarion was too tired and weak to do much more than watch, and he was beginning to have a hard time comprehending. His body and mind screamed for rest.
But he could not rest while the goddess stood before him. She was the proof that he had succeeded. He did not know, nor care, what had happened to the mortal body she had told him she was inhabiting, but he knew that she was back where she needed to be.
She turned towards him, and Mavarion slowly lowered his head to the floor. His forearms held him up as his weak, tired, and old body tried to betray him. Muscles trembled on the point of collapse, but Mavarion held himself stationary through sheer force of will. He had been through worse.
He spoke into the ground the words he had never been able to say to her before.
"Angatdan, my life is yours to command."
Both he and Grailth were impressed that his voice did not tremble.
You have no where to hide, nowhere to run, your village will burn like the heart of the sun. With infinite glee, it is going to be me who slaughters your world.
She longed to speak. She longed to kneel before her priest, touch his chin, pull his face up to look into her dead eyes and tell him he'd done well. She longed to give him approval, to show him that despite the hatred seething within the very fabric of her making, she approved of his actions.
She wanted to critique the sacrifice. She was an old god, fickle about the body's placement and damage. He'd done well, very well indeed - but she was the type of god who loved to play with a whole and healthy heart. She wanted to tell him to mind this organ, cut around it, preserve its own beating life so that she could fondle it later, pump it within her own fist until all the juices and blood had rushed from within the muscle.
The mortal woman in her wanted to investigate the demon sitting on his pedestal, gently touch the circle and wipe a segment away just to see what would happen. The most cruel and evil of Pandora's box released to ravage and maim as it pleased. She wondered about the hate she saw in its own eyes for her priest, and her own emotion made her want to explore this further.
But she could not. She could only gaze upon him silently, holding herself together with willpower and offered magics. The image was fading - it was an effort to make herself visible - and soon she would dissipate once more, a wisp floating along the currents until she finally had a body to focus her energies within. As she returned her eyes to the sacrifice, his words drifted into the air and brought something like a smile to her lips. She turned to her priest with his face to the ground in sublimation, and felt a familiar swell of pride. She deserved this sublimation; it was her birthright.
And her name...the memories cascaded without rhyme or reason, thousands of different moments where this name had been used. Older and newer memories flowed together in a jumbled stream - a ancient priest with markings on his face and chest, supervising a group of slaves as they erected a temple in her name - a newer priest who did not worship her but was counted as friend among his own stone church - the priest prostrate before her, offering his life for her uses - thousands of followers and friends from so long ago, yet some of them seemed so much closer than the others...
Her hands came close to her face as she fought the onslaught, uncontrolled and heavy. Her image flickered as she lost focus on her non-physical presence, until she found the memory she wanted and ignored all the rest. Slowly she regained her presence, reformed herself piece by piece - but she was much faded. She lowered her hands to stare at her priest. His life was her own; the power which licked and swirled about her could destroy him, if only she were to focus it like a great knife and pierce his soul through. This sense of power helped her to regain her composure...and still she faded.
She dissipated in pieces, starting from the ground up. First her feet dissolved into flaky mist which swirled away, up to her calves and knees, along her abdomen and finally all the way up her spine. The last pieces to vanish were her eyes, dead and empty and still staring at her priest. As her will to remain visible ceased, these orbs melted away - and within seconds, there was nothing left.
She had gone into waiting.
She wanted to critique the sacrifice. She was an old god, fickle about the body's placement and damage. He'd done well, very well indeed - but she was the type of god who loved to play with a whole and healthy heart. She wanted to tell him to mind this organ, cut around it, preserve its own beating life so that she could fondle it later, pump it within her own fist until all the juices and blood had rushed from within the muscle.
The mortal woman in her wanted to investigate the demon sitting on his pedestal, gently touch the circle and wipe a segment away just to see what would happen. The most cruel and evil of Pandora's box released to ravage and maim as it pleased. She wondered about the hate she saw in its own eyes for her priest, and her own emotion made her want to explore this further.
But she could not. She could only gaze upon him silently, holding herself together with willpower and offered magics. The image was fading - it was an effort to make herself visible - and soon she would dissipate once more, a wisp floating along the currents until she finally had a body to focus her energies within. As she returned her eyes to the sacrifice, his words drifted into the air and brought something like a smile to her lips. She turned to her priest with his face to the ground in sublimation, and felt a familiar swell of pride. She deserved this sublimation; it was her birthright.
And her name...the memories cascaded without rhyme or reason, thousands of different moments where this name had been used. Older and newer memories flowed together in a jumbled stream - a ancient priest with markings on his face and chest, supervising a group of slaves as they erected a temple in her name - a newer priest who did not worship her but was counted as friend among his own stone church - the priest prostrate before her, offering his life for her uses - thousands of followers and friends from so long ago, yet some of them seemed so much closer than the others...
Her hands came close to her face as she fought the onslaught, uncontrolled and heavy. Her image flickered as she lost focus on her non-physical presence, until she found the memory she wanted and ignored all the rest. Slowly she regained her presence, reformed herself piece by piece - but she was much faded. She lowered her hands to stare at her priest. His life was her own; the power which licked and swirled about her could destroy him, if only she were to focus it like a great knife and pierce his soul through. This sense of power helped her to regain her composure...and still she faded.
She dissipated in pieces, starting from the ground up. First her feet dissolved into flaky mist which swirled away, up to her calves and knees, along her abdomen and finally all the way up her spine. The last pieces to vanish were her eyes, dead and empty and still staring at her priest. As her will to remain visible ceased, these orbs melted away - and within seconds, there was nothing left.
She had gone into waiting.
Mavarion waited on his knees, pain throbbing through his joints. He kept himself prostrate for the appropriate amount of time, before coming up out of his crouch to remain knelt before her.
His gaze met hers again as she lowered her hands from her face, and he almost recoiled from the hatred within. But he knew it was her nature, and he wasn't truly surprised.
She inspected him, and still she did not speak. She had some interest in Grailth, as the demon did in her. Which was part of the reason why he was here. Mavarion had made certain overtures towards the demon when he had first called, and an uneasy truce had been obtained. This was part of what demon and human had come to agreement over. The resurrection of a blood goddess, and the chaos to follow.
With a last look at him, the goddess began to slowly dissolve from the bottom up. It was disconcerting to Mavarion to have her eyes remain locked onto him even after everything else had vanished, but soon those vanished as well.
Mavarion let out the breath he had been holding. She was back. She was no longer on the brink of extinction. Pride, excitement, and eagerness overwhelmed the tiredness within, renewed his strength as he thought on his accomplishment. There was still one thing left to do, and then he could rest.
Forcing himself to his feet took much of his remaining energy, but he managed it, and even managed to drag the body of the shaman to the edge of the circle of powdered sulfur. He pulled the knife from the shaman's chest, then lifted the woman's arm and broke the plane above the circle of powdered sulfur, careful not to let his own body pierce that same plane.
Grailth continued to look at him for a long moment, and Mavarion met the demon's gaze. With a snort, Grailth climbed down from his throne, his thick muscular legs shaped like the hindquarters of a bull carrying him easily down from his perch. The barbed tail whipped around, lashing seemingly aimlessly, helping maintain the demon's balance.
Grailth paused by the woman's arm, and nodded down to Mavarion.
"Today, human, you have proved you are a man of your words. I agreed to our arrangements because I saw some benefit in them for myself, as I saw something within you as well. You have proven my hunch correct, human, and I again offer my agreement to the arrangements. Do not prove me wrong now."
Mavarion stared blandly up at Grailth. "I told you I was a man of my word. Thank you for your confidence in me, Demon Prince." The words were mocking, but Mavarion bowed his head ever so slightly, to show Grailth that they were meant more seriously than they sounded.
Grailth snorted again, an amused look flitting across his features, before he grabbed the arm of the shaman and hauled her through the plane of the circle. Though she dragged over the circle of sulfur, the powder did not disturb. It wouldn't unless someone from outside consciously went through and disturbed the powder.
Mavarion stepped back from the circle, slipping the sacrificial knife back under his robes. The blood had soaked into the dagger, as he knew from long practice with the knife, so he wasn't worried about getting blood on himself. He took another couple steps back, putting enough distance between himself and the demon that he wouldn't go through the plane if he fell from exhaustion. As it was, only pure willpower kept him on his feet now. He knew in the back of his mind that he had never been this close to the extent of his power, and he still had one more piece of magic to perform.
With a deep breath, Mavarion began murmuring under his breath, confidence and eyes unwavering. Before him, Grailth had retaken the throne, and was caressing the face of the dead shaman that lay in his lap. His glowing eyes were latched on Mavarion, meeting stare for stare. Mavarion brought his hands together in front of him, slowly, then suddenly drew them apart. At the same time, he spoke the words to release the spell holding the demon in the physical plane.
The sulfur flared up, flames bursting three feet into the air and more. The heat waves obscured the demon, but even before the last bit of sulfur was burned, it was clear Grailth was back in his own plane.
Mavarion dropped to his knees again, energy completely spent. With the last of his strength, he shouted for Gia.
All that came out was a croaked "Gia" that a wolf might be able to hear, if it happened to be listening. Mavarion, however, wouldn't know if she had heard him or not as the last vestiges of consciousness fled with the last of his energy.
His gaze met hers again as she lowered her hands from her face, and he almost recoiled from the hatred within. But he knew it was her nature, and he wasn't truly surprised.
She inspected him, and still she did not speak. She had some interest in Grailth, as the demon did in her. Which was part of the reason why he was here. Mavarion had made certain overtures towards the demon when he had first called, and an uneasy truce had been obtained. This was part of what demon and human had come to agreement over. The resurrection of a blood goddess, and the chaos to follow.
With a last look at him, the goddess began to slowly dissolve from the bottom up. It was disconcerting to Mavarion to have her eyes remain locked onto him even after everything else had vanished, but soon those vanished as well.
Mavarion let out the breath he had been holding. She was back. She was no longer on the brink of extinction. Pride, excitement, and eagerness overwhelmed the tiredness within, renewed his strength as he thought on his accomplishment. There was still one thing left to do, and then he could rest.
Forcing himself to his feet took much of his remaining energy, but he managed it, and even managed to drag the body of the shaman to the edge of the circle of powdered sulfur. He pulled the knife from the shaman's chest, then lifted the woman's arm and broke the plane above the circle of powdered sulfur, careful not to let his own body pierce that same plane.
Grailth continued to look at him for a long moment, and Mavarion met the demon's gaze. With a snort, Grailth climbed down from his throne, his thick muscular legs shaped like the hindquarters of a bull carrying him easily down from his perch. The barbed tail whipped around, lashing seemingly aimlessly, helping maintain the demon's balance.
Grailth paused by the woman's arm, and nodded down to Mavarion.
"Today, human, you have proved you are a man of your words. I agreed to our arrangements because I saw some benefit in them for myself, as I saw something within you as well. You have proven my hunch correct, human, and I again offer my agreement to the arrangements. Do not prove me wrong now."
Mavarion stared blandly up at Grailth. "I told you I was a man of my word. Thank you for your confidence in me, Demon Prince." The words were mocking, but Mavarion bowed his head ever so slightly, to show Grailth that they were meant more seriously than they sounded.
Grailth snorted again, an amused look flitting across his features, before he grabbed the arm of the shaman and hauled her through the plane of the circle. Though she dragged over the circle of sulfur, the powder did not disturb. It wouldn't unless someone from outside consciously went through and disturbed the powder.
Mavarion stepped back from the circle, slipping the sacrificial knife back under his robes. The blood had soaked into the dagger, as he knew from long practice with the knife, so he wasn't worried about getting blood on himself. He took another couple steps back, putting enough distance between himself and the demon that he wouldn't go through the plane if he fell from exhaustion. As it was, only pure willpower kept him on his feet now. He knew in the back of his mind that he had never been this close to the extent of his power, and he still had one more piece of magic to perform.
With a deep breath, Mavarion began murmuring under his breath, confidence and eyes unwavering. Before him, Grailth had retaken the throne, and was caressing the face of the dead shaman that lay in his lap. His glowing eyes were latched on Mavarion, meeting stare for stare. Mavarion brought his hands together in front of him, slowly, then suddenly drew them apart. At the same time, he spoke the words to release the spell holding the demon in the physical plane.
The sulfur flared up, flames bursting three feet into the air and more. The heat waves obscured the demon, but even before the last bit of sulfur was burned, it was clear Grailth was back in his own plane.
Mavarion dropped to his knees again, energy completely spent. With the last of his strength, he shouted for Gia.
All that came out was a croaked "Gia" that a wolf might be able to hear, if it happened to be listening. Mavarion, however, wouldn't know if she had heard him or not as the last vestiges of consciousness fled with the last of his energy.
You have no where to hide, nowhere to run, your village will burn like the heart of the sun. With infinite glee, it is going to be me who slaughters your world.