The Forests Burn Before The Curling Shadow

[Swgrclan 2682]

"For I satisfy the weary ones, and scorn everyone who languishes."

The sanguine one walked the road of kings in search of another -- another to bolster the motives of his grand circle. This time it was not man who was desired, but elf; Malin's children, whom have mistaken cold cities for their forests and caverns for their roots. The Bloodmage came, and he sought another -- and another he found, rebellious in mind and who bears scars she cannot bear to reveal. The Dark-Elf Xyra was lured by Valgautr and his ally Jinn to the depths of the land's forests, and promised blessings within a pool of water. But all she received of the trickery was a blow to the head and a darkened mind as her consciousness was stolen from her.

Within this grove of trees, dark with coming dusk, she was placed within a circle of runes drawn with the blood of her palms, and Xyra was afflicted with more pain; more pain as she was flurried with the wounds granted by a golden knife within the night that cut into her back in demand of more crimson essence. So it followed for Valgautr while his fleshless ally kept guard, and so the essence of the blood was taken as a twisting nexus of energy from her red ichor, and held in place above her bound form. Like Peter's essence before it, Xyra's lifeforce twinkled with the purity of light in it's most raw form -- the pinnacle of the Maker's power of creation, born of his will, that runs in all of mortal man's veins. But it was not the light that was sought. It was the curling shadow.



It was from the depths of this light of creation that the darkness of the Fallen One came. With the activation of the ritual circles' runes, the incandescent glow that once burned within Xyra's sanguine lifeforce became black and gray until the light was all but nil, replaced by the eldritch curse of Malin's empowered entity-- and did it spread like fire, fire indeed, for all of the elven woman's red essence turned black with the empowering of the old curse. All of this came by Valgautr's hand by the will of his wretched magicks.



With the curling shadow's coming complete, with much anticipation was it cast back into Xyra's squirming form with a resounding boom of cold laughter; insane and drawn from the blood mage, for this arcane of the Archdragon warped his mind to such a degree that such pain and darkness brought him joy. The abyssal fire of the Fallen One's curse was cast back into Xyra, and it changed her -- she became weak, and a dark aura developed upon her person, but most prominently of all, this abhorred power kept her from spreading future generations. Never again would she bear children, and it was by her newfound frailness that the weakness of her unborn kin was exemplified.

She was dragged without a care in the world by Valgautr back to the city of her race, accompanied by the skeletal Jinn still. Just like Peter, Xyra was cast into Malin's domain in open mockery; the embodiment of the old curse most prominent within the city now as the masked blood mage shouted his rhetoric in chilling, furious tones; a warning that stretched across the whole of the city.

"This͝ ̛om͠eń ̢f͟o͏l͡lo҉ws ̷yo͜u͏ ͢l҉i͞ke a͏ ͜shad̛o͘ẁ!̡

̨TH͏E̴ ͜ELDER̀M̀I̸ND S҉TIL̴L C̸O̸ME͜S!"

Xyra was left upon the cold floor of the ivory city as her captor left the polis with much haste after his cryptic warning.

Two have been taken by the curling shadow.
 

[Glyc 234]

Moved to the Great Library. It shall be sorted into appropriate category shortly.