A WYTCH STIRS IN YOUR WOODS

[Demonica 678]

 

Spoiler

 

 

Wytch Stirs In Your Woods

 

[!] The contents of this post may be roleplayed as spread through word of mouth. [!]

 

Cordelia stood at the foot of the mountain, near a river and jagged stones. The Prince of Númendil, Argelion, with his companions Dante and Relen, had sought to corner her, to bind her with their laws. But Cordelia was a woman untamed, bound only by her will, yet even then, she saw the fire that burned within the young prince’s eyes. He wanted to prove himself, to best the Witch who haunted the edges of their stories. And so, she humored him with a duel.

 

“What made you turn evil?” The young Prince Argelion asked, his blade pressed close to her chest.

 

“Evil?” The Witch paused, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her face before she cackled. She had never thought of herself as evil. What she had done—what she had become—had always been about survival. Did that make her evil? Or perhaps…“Perhaps it was your scorn,” She directed to the now gathered men. 

“The fear in your eyes before you even knew my name. Or the way you prayed for my ruin simply because I dared to live differently than you.”

“Perhaps evil, to you, is nothing more than power you cannot hope to control.”

 

The duel was swift, brutal in its simplicity. Argelion fought with the fire of youth and the strength of his convictions, enough to draw blood from the Witch and force her onto the defensive. But Cordelia had time on her side—years of cunning, experience, and a mastery of magic that no lone blade could ever hope to rival. His sword bit into her but it mattered little, for her will broke him where steel could not.

 

The boy had something she did not: mercy. It was not weakness that caused him to fumble, but restraint.

And in the end, it was the wicked woman who stood victorious over him once more. Soon, countless Knights, and even
Tar-Anorhil, had gathered around them. A show of power and unity on their part.

 

She and her familiar had decided to take their win and depart, but not without a final thorn being cast. And so the Witch raised her voice, letting it carry on the wind to the people of Númendil:

 

☾✧☽

 

the people of Númendil, hear me well.

 

For years, I have dwelled in the shadows of your forests. The trees have been my sisters, the moon my mother. I harmed none who did not first seek to harm me. Yet you, in your blind arrogance, have chosen to disturb what you do not understand.

 

You have hurled your javelins, drawn your arrows, and sharpened your swords—all for the sake of your so-called justice. You march beneath your banners, proclaiming righteousness, and yet you chase me, a woman alone, into my sanctuary as though I am a monster to subdue.

 

If this is the justice you uphold, then allow me to reveal what mine truly entails.

 

The forests are mine now. Each root, each branch, each shadow belongs to me. And when next you step beneath my trees, tread carefully, for there will be no mercy here. Be you noble or peasant, young or old, you will all meet the same end if you dare cross the boundaries I have drawn.

Let this be a tell of what will come to pass.

 

You wished to test my strength—come and see, and I will teach you why the dark is to be feared.

 

 

 

[Demented_Delila 1248]

A ranger squints at the missive, brow raised. She had not been afraid of the dark for some years, recalling a time when

there was a true danger in the King's wood. The nagging little voice at the back of her mind laughed. 

 

"Who is this woman to dictate where I might not go? I have fought long and hard to be able to walk these woods. . .

I have nearly come to my death, to just be able to go and catch frogs at the pond.  Gawaith Halbarad borders the

woods and has been there for years. I will not have the peace I fought so bloodily for be usurped by someone who

is not even one of us. . .  She owns nothing and will continue to own nothing. How dare this woman . . ."

 

And so that ranger donned the green cloak and the boots her father had made her many, many years before

when a war with a shadow was waged at their very doorstep. She adjusted her cloak over her head and went

for her walk. The nagging little voice at the back of her mind still yet laughed about how silly it all could be.

 

A note is left, tied carefully to a tree branch by a blue ribbon.

Spoiler

To the Witch in the Aran-en-Eryn

 

Strike none who tread these paths. We have duties to attend, regardless of what

you claim to own. We have deer to cull, wolves to ward, and poachers to kill.

The woods are not yours. They will never be yours. The Shadow over us tried

once to own it all, and he was sent screaming into the abyss where he belonged.

 

Leave the Rangers to their tasks. Leave the Knights to their hunting. Let the farmer

catch his rabbits and the children chase their frogs. You are only harming innocents,

who have done no harm to you. You prove nothing but what others say you are with

these violent threats. Leave be the wandering and the weary, for they have not

harmed you. I will not have the blood I spilled to win back our peace wasted over this.

 

Noenien

 

[confusedjester 811]

A certain Noblewoman has fun flipping over stools and turning book pages WITH HER NEW MIND-POWERS after encountering the witch, wondering what could've POSSIBLY caused such an ability to arise in her!

 

 

 

The more she thought about it, it was.. probably the witch... er... might not.. be so good...

[Marthia 273]

The white-haired Adunian woman took a seat in a dimly lit room. A fire lit in the kitchen casted a warmth as well as a fragrance of its embers. For the first time in a long time, the woman rested and reflected on all that had been. Ideas of Justice and goals for making her world a better place plagued her mind. It was all she ever thought about these days. Her eyes fell upon her left and dominant hand, she would be reminded of the interaction she'd had with the Witch in Reinmar. A scowl growing prevalent. Somehow, while sorting through papers, this missive had arrived. As she read it, her visible distaste only grew. Her new clay fingers but a reminder of the curse that had been laid upon her. 
"That's what I get fer bein' kind ta an old hag." She'd mutter, struggling to admire what good there was to this foul world. 

Edited January 28, 2025 by Marthia

[Cass_the_Scribe 40]

The Hedge Knight of Roses in exile heard of these words and the declaration of the Witch. In cold reaches of Norland, She muttered to herself as she considered them .

 

"Foe or not...I believe it is time I seek out this witch of the wood."

The knight hummed before making preparations to venture into the woods, to face this newfound being.

[Nectorist 12869]

Thordredd Konnanson is haunted is his nightmares by the witch of the forest, whose domain treads upon the sanctity and safety of even his own home. Playing with his friends is no longer as fun as it once was. At any moment, that wicked woman might jump out again and feast on their bones. Even in the supposed comfort of his own bed, he forces himself to lie awake, watching for her shadow and dreading the nightmares that will soon fall upon him, as they always do now.

[Cally 1080]

The IMPISH FIEND had crashed into scene, thwapping the Prince Argelion across the face with a wrothful bout of malflame. . . Later, did the Imp Lord's mother and it murmur and scheme in damned whispers, hailing a hell they would surely bring. Nefarious plans, gossip galore!

"YEHEHEHEHEehHEhehe! YEEEEHEHEHEhEhHEHEHE!" 

 

They cackled together as the moon set.

[KidKrinkles 2043]

Victor did sit in his tent and read the missive. His brown creasing, and voice raising, as if shouting into the trees themselves.

 

"Like **** ye can ah've te fecken' woods. I LIVE IN 'EM."

 

The ranger-knight did climb the Warden's Tower that night and eyed the woods, as if through the thicket the greenery might betray their 'new master' to him, and he might quickly be done with it.

 

 

[Fadility 28]

Cahnor would read the missive disgusted.

He thought to himself: "How could she even believe her own words, after what she did to me!"

 

He remembers the encounter, her unprovoked attack, the text she burned into his body, and the devilish powers she cursed him with. He grips his hand tightly, opening it up revealing a small flame, using it to burn the missive. "She will pay...."

 

 

[DahStalker 3692]

21 minutes ago, Cally said:

The IMPISH FIEND had crashed into scene, thwapping the Prince Argelion across the face with a wrothful bout of malflame. . . Later, did the Imp Lord's mother and it murmur and scheme in damned whispers, hailing a hell they would surely bring. Nefarious plans, gossip galore!

"YEHEHEHEHEehHEhehe! YEEEEHEHEHEhEhHEHEHE!" 

 

They cackled together as the moon set.

Spoiler

I fear this font more than the witch

 

[STBNL 250]

Wilfriche heard the shared concerns throughout the capital as a serjeant. Normally he would let it fly pass, something in the works that knights and stronger individuals would take care of. But for so long Numenost he settled into, made a family with beautiful children. That very forest so close to the border could change everything by a single mistake. A father's love goes unrested, this witch had provoked the hammerhead shark. Countering fear with inspiration, bolstering the man. "Y will work overtime, just for vy." It was a declaration to rid of foul and betterment of the future.

[Lenny 1615]

---

Argelion Anorion Arthalion, found himself within the clinic soon after the Witch had run off at the conclusion of her offered duel, blood and burns lingering on his skin. Words repeated in his mind, although wounded, a clear sense of accomplishment lingered in the overly-prideful Princeling. The Witch had surrendered, an arm practically severed and blood leaking from her, at the cost of burns and wounds upon his own fleshly-being, he went into this expectantly and came out, in his own opinion, victorious.

Upon the note, the Crown Prince’s usual smile returned, and pen was put to paper;
 

---

The words you spoke to me, laden with sorrow and disappointment, prove hollow in your own hypocrisy. You decry the pain inflicted upon you, yet you now inflict the same upon others. Look to your own faults and summon the courage to face me once more to end this, or simply, end yourself. The choice is yours, but do not think I will wait long.
 

SIGNED,

HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS, Argelion Anorion of the House Arthalionath, Crown Prince of the Númenaranyë 

[Rayalia 537]

Azruphêl reaches up, scrubbing at the brand, the marring, the tattoo printed on the side of her face, encircling half of her eye. Despite the bags beneath, adorning her countenance with additional hues of purple, a small twitch of determination shows; that witch's head would be hers, if not for the goddamned insomnia and nightmares and branding and- ... well. The woods weren't the witch's. It was a matter of pride now. Pride for her family and the safety of the people her family had always led, had always protected, the people she had once actively sought to stand beside. 

[MrMojoMordor 2413]

7 hours ago, Demonica said:

You wished to test my strength—come and see, and I will teach you why the dark is to be feared.

[An obnoxious amount of notes have been nailed to the many trees of Numendil with following words]

Komin' to get lat ihn 12 saintz hourz.
Bi there or bi zkuare.

[OOC: 5pm EST]

Edited January 28, 2025 by MrMojoMordor

[Cheese 8880]

Spoiler

13 hours ago, Demonica said:

Wytch Stirs In Your Woods

 

And she would like to speak to you about your extended car warranty

 

A frequent traveller to Numendil hummed over the rumors, having snagged some copy of the threatening letter. With a six month old girl in her arms, she turned to ask her husband, "So, do you think visiting Hera is out of the question?"