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Showing results for tags 'season of the witch'.
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A Wilting Flower In a desolate forest, two malevolent witches concocted a sinister plan to capture the next unsuspecting traveler as a display of their capabilities. Under the moonless sky, the Harian heir reanimated a pile of bones with her dark magic, the Southeron rolled her eyes - for her sister was reveling in her near useless predicament. Down the winding road strolled a jovial Elven figure, adorned in a cascade of pastel pink flowers and intricate nature motifs. The wicked witches exchanged knowing glances, sinister smirks playing on their faces. Their skeletal thrall abruptly halted the Druid in his tracks, prompting a startled gasp. As the Druid turned to assess the unexpected interruption, his gaze fell upon the Southeron—a cunning enchantress who timed her actions with meticulous precision. With an artful flick of her wrist, she hurled a crystalline sphere in his direction, its trajectory dancing through the air with an eerie grace. “Darkul'veegati.” A thunderous crash reverberated as shards of glass shattered, releasing an ominous cloud of thick smoke that swiftly enveloped the Druid. Sinister laughter echoed through the air, amplifying the disorienting chaos. Desperately, he swatted at the air, attempting to disperse the suffocating haze. In the midst of the obscured scene, an unexpected projectile hurtled through the air—a massive rock cutting a sinister arc before colliding with the back of the Druid's skull. The ominous laughter persisted as the two malevolent women closed in, the smoke gradually dissipating to unveil his unconscious form sprawled in the dusty aftermath. The skeletal minion grasped his ankles and they were off, leaving behind a single pink flower . Amidst the concealed confines of their secluded hut in a putrid bog, the two witches erupted in gleeful howls. The play of candle flames cast flickering shadows that danced across the walls, amplifying the sinister ambiance. Regaining consciousness, the Druid adorned in flowers found himself entwined by ominous chains, fastening him to a vertical wooden board. The blackened shackles restricted his limbs, rendering him captive to the witches' malevolent design. With a disturbing satisfaction, the two women revealed in their egregious accomplishment, their elation evident in the wicked pride that glinted in their eyes. “Patuk… You’re awake!” The protective veil of the Aspects failed to shield him from the witches' unrelenting cruelty. With malevolence in their hearts, they cast twisted spells, extracting pleas for mercy that echoed from the depths of the druid's being. Each tormented incantation chipped away at his strength, yet his resolve remained unbroken. Frustration etched across the Southeron's face, she abruptly ceased her incantations and shifted her gaze to a potted herb resting on the windowsill. A devilish smirk played upon her lips as she carefully placed it on the table near her sister. The druid's eyes widened in anxious anticipation, terrified by the night unfolding before him. The desert-dwelling sister extended her hand towards the plant, its vibrant green now caught between her digits. A dense black smog began to seep from her palm, gradually enveloping the innocent flora. The captive thrashed and jerked, his senses assaulted by the plant's anguished cries, each resonating as if the inflicted pain were his own. Amidst the witches' delighted cackles, a subtle force stirred within the prisoner. Tapping into the desperation of the moment, he violently squirmed in a desperate attempt to break free. Feebly resisting the witches' malevolence, his anguished cries echoed through the air, sending whispers of rebellion that rustled through the leaves, an ode to nature's silent resistance.
