RP:The Darkness Within

From HollowWiki

Part of the Vakmatharas' Jar Arc


Summary: Brennia meets a seemingly elderly man who unknowingly points her in the right direction.

Twisted Trees

Here the trees are twisted and petrified in agony. Like a haunting horrific nightmare they almost seem to twist and move like serpents. At close examination you can see sick disfigured carved faces pressed into the surface of the trees, blood trickling down the eyes and mouth. As you glance down, you notice that spider webs also inhabit this area. The only way is back to your west. Are you moving in circles somehow?



Bennia | Night after night the hauntingly beautiful song rings out and the larynx is ripped from a spectral ghost just before an elder necromancer is slain by the other two main ones. A gruesome sight and a rare ancient spell depicted, but not finished since the scene ends with the elder being reunited with the god of death, Vakmatharas. How odd it is to worship something one cannot see and attempt to summon them to mingle in a life… at least that’s what avians think. Avians are so hubris and arrogant that most of them don’t even bother with religious literature. This night started as most and just as midnight approached the spectral spectacle began with the whimpering of a beautiful young bard full of innocence and bound before three necromancers that address each other only as, The Oldest, Orra, and The Third. A caramel complexioned avian lands near the transparent visitors as this bard was drawn here the night before due to the singing, but was too late to see where it came from. Striking liberty blue eyes focus on the sight before her and large onyx wings fold close to her curvaceous frame while her arms crossed under her bust, but there wasn’t much to see as she seems to be covered almost entirely by a sapphire colored turtleneck, black soft leather leggings and gloves. A bit out of character for the sultry avian bard, but only those who know her would pick up on that. While she watches she smokes a cigarette from a dinner length cigarette holder just as the necromancers demand her to sing her haunting tune and the gloom of it hangs thick in the air.


Draiman | The elderly male human steps outside of the den wandering towards the sound of the wailing. A glare of annoyance upon his face. Grumbling he makes way through the trees until coming within sight. "Stab her chest... rip her heart out... or something different this time... the stabbing is so boring and overrated!" The guised human raises his hand a small ball of dark energy forms and is flung toward the ghosts. The dark flame races through the air the path to collide with the one referred to as Orra. Knowing full well the attack to be fruitless he shakes his hand as to dismiss the phantoms.


Brennia watches the live elderly male play out his frustrations and a subtle smirk was spreading across plump lips as she was blowing out the dense smoke of her cigarette. An alluring alto timbre swims on the air until it sounds as if the bard was standing right beside the man, “come now… I think the older necromancer is about to rip the innocent's throat out.” If the elderly man were to look upon Brennia she would smile warmly and gently gesture for him to come stand with her in order to move the heck out of the way. One of the ghosts bring out a large black marble jar which causes Brennia to fixate her gaze in recognition.


Draiman lowers his gaze to the performers. "It's so... dull" the elder looked back to the avian towering over him. With a rapping of his staff he vanishes in a puff of black smoke only to reappear standing in front of the woman. "He repeats it night after night and her screams annoy me." He rolls his eyes "no wonder they were removed from the cult with such lack of...... creativity"


Brenna revels in the song of choice with her eyes closing just for a small moment, “but don't you hear the song? She’s mocking them,” She takes another long drag of her cigarette through its holder and let the smoke linger about her striking facial features. The Oldest necromancer goes about ripping the larynx from the innocent, pure, bard and Brennia doesn’t look away, no… she almost enjoys it in his morbidity. “Do you happen to know what it is they are doing? Who is this Vakmarast they keep on mentioning?” She butchers the god’s name.


Draiman chuckles briefly looking the gory scene before him. "Mocking she may be... but I doubt she’d be singing now let alone in a mocking tone..." while speaking he holds up his right index and middle fingers. His voice grows intense though the language has shifted from verbal to a more gutteral sound. The words seem to agitate the necromancer ghosts. Though they don't alter their original movement they seem to comprehend the noise the elder male makes. Dropping his fingers he resumes the common tongue. "Vak is a death god.. given who they are, they are either A: summoning his champion to the mortal realm or B: preparing for a larger ritual. I'm guessing this was after I left so going with option B."


Brennia tilts her head when the spectral show stops and the elder man was talking in an unfamiliar tongue. When it resumes she watches as The Oldest was next to die by Orra and The Third’s hand which ends the little ‘show’. Once upon a time she was drawn to the villain and the bad guy, but daddy issues, amirite? She meanders closer to the elderly man, bringing his most favorite scent along with her on her avain trait, “Vak? You know about this ritual? What about that man, Orra? Or that jar…” Taking another hit of her cigarette and blowing the billowing smoke away from the mad as to not be rude.


Draiman watched as the scene came to a close as the avain asked her the questions a smile grew on his face. "Know of them? I've participated in a few my self." The elder man reaches toward the woman's ciggerette gently lifting it from her hand if she would allow then takes a drag before offering to return it. "Orra was a high rank when I had left. He loves..." he pauses to consider the tense of the word "...loved? Blood magic. He even created a spell that would boil the blood while it was still inside the victim. The other two I can't recall probably just some new recruits. As for the jar.. it looks like a phylactery although unfinished. I'm guessing there's two results of that jar. Either he was trying to contain his own soul... or your friend there is... was? going to be a part of something big."


Brennia was quiet and listened while tucking some Raven wavy tendrils behind her elongated pointed ear, “oh…” She glances back when he borrowed her cigarette as if she could still see Orra and she remembered some of the attire they were wearing. “Must have been ages ago,” a slight sigh when he mentioned the bard being apart of something big, “yes, I am afraid she already has been.” She was looking back at the elderly man when it dawned on her, “and I might assume there is more to you than just some elderly Necromancer.” Her smirk turned up a corner of those plump lips, “who is this Vak you speak of?”


Draiman | The elder just offers a grin leaning back onto a tree looking at the woman before him. "A bit of advice for the outsider... you're in the dark forest. In these parts your eyes cant always be trusted." As he relays the warning his eyes flicker from the humanoid set to a reptilian pair then back. "Vak... well that's a double coin. On one side you have Vakmatharas.. " he laughs a bit "the oh so godly king of death" dramatics and sarcasm flow from his voice like blood from the fountain. Though it dries up quickly as he continues. "Vak senior is the god of death he's a big baddy that no one loves and everyone fears. If you believe in grim reapers.. then he is their boss. He's ugly, so I have been told, and strong. The markings on that jar are defiantly his. Which means your friend isnt enjoying a peaceful afterlife.. If she even made it that far." He says without a drop of remorse "so.. you don't look old enough to have known that one.. so why interested in the scene? Or rather the jar?"


Brennia’s grin widened just slightly with intrigue at the reptilian eyes looking at her. She knew it. Is curiosity into the literal monsters within men going to take her out of her element once more. Cigarette left burning and the tattoo ink decorating her temples seem to swirl slightly just when those stunning blue eyes inked over for just a second. Taking a cautious step back from the man for of their sakes and she took a long drag of the cigarette, the smoke caressing up those beautiful young features. “I don't know her,” a shrug at her own lack of remorse as well and her grin widened to show perfect pearly white teeth, “you don't know me either… You did just say we are in the dark forest.” She steps over her cigarette after discarding the remainder on the floor, “I am just a bard drawn to her song… I may have seen that item,” she keeps her response vague.


Draiman watches as she drops her cigarette to the ground. "I need not to know you fully to know what I need to know." The elder tilts his head. "For example.." He steps forward placing a brittle finger on her cheek running it down her jaw line. "I can tell you couldnt care less about her song. No, you may have been drawn by her voice, maybe telling yourself youd be the hero.. " he removes his hand down to his robes. "But you stood there watching her. Knowing... no.. willing for it to happen. You wanted to watch her die. You enjoyed it. But you know that isnt you..." He slowly begins to stagger around the woman circling her quickly in spite of his aged appearance. "You used to be the hero, maybe not saving her but certinetly not just standing by to watch her get her throat ripped out. And that.. well," he takes in a long drawn breath through his nose inhaling her scent. "That terrifies you. More so then I am right now" he chuckles when once again standing in front of her.


Brennia didn't recoil by the man’s touch, smirk everpresent. She will let him think what he wants and the only thing he would gain from her scent is his very own favorite one because that's just what avians smell like. “I've merely heard it before. Coming from that jar itself and not long ago,” she fakes a sigh, “the only hero I've ever been is in my own story. You don't get to be my age without having a selfish era,” she silently reminisces on the time she spend amassing an interesting ‘pet’ collection of both men and women during which time she lived right here in Vailkrin. Vampire, dragon, lycan and all monsters the like, but is she still attracted to that darkness which lurks just under the surface? Even she wonders sometimes as she glances up to the sky when those marvelous onyx massives open up behind her, “well… Elderly one, it was a pleasure, but I'm off to research some more on this Vakman. Merry part,” with a brilliant force of wings fluttering she was off into the night sky heading towards the direction of the dark library.