Soulless Forest Altar
You're not feeling so well...
Medusa
Wraith
Master Fighter (699)
Master Hunter (325)
Saboteur
Bloodletter
age
7 Years
7 Years
gender
Female
Female
gems
25
25
player
Dragon Mod
Dragon Mod
10-27-2022, 11:50 PM
Her world had changed. She wasn't feeling good. She didn't know if it was something she ate or what, but her belly had grown round and she was constantly feeling gross. Still, she made her way back to the statue she had seen before, only this time when she visited, the aura around it had seemingly changed. The familiars were quiet. Silent. Not a word was spoken. Not a breath was heard. Other wolves had gathered once again, but she ignored them as she approached the altar. Initially, she had thought about asking it for advice on how to stop feeling sick. But then decided, no. That was a dumb question. She probably just needed to stop eating things that were bad for her, but there were so many good things to find and munch on! Especially now that she felt hungrier often, but also sometimes throwing it back up. She huffed as she approached, dual-toned gaze looking up at the statue's face as she stood there in (mostly) silence. Barring the occasional, low giggle that slipped past her teeth. She wondered if this statue had the capacity to help her...or at least, guide her in what to do. She still wanted revenge on Habari, and truth be told, this statue looked like the vengeful type. But she couldn't be sure. It definitely looked like something she would be afraid to come across if it were alive, that was for sure! "Medusa wants the wolves of Habari to feel how she felt when they stole her freedom and hurt her. They deserve to burn..." She sat back and just looked at the statue for a long moment, and decided to reach forward and touch its stone paw. More for curiosity than anything, but also maybe to see what about it was different this time. Hm...nothing she could tell, honestly. Glancing at her companions, one of them brought forth some bones and the other the pelt of another wolf. A stranger she had found, dying of starvation out near the tar pits. She had decided to put her out of her misery. All the while imagining it was Recluse, of course. Or one of the bitches brats that had tormented her. Considering the stranger's state when she had found her, there really was no saving her. The loner (or was she a pack wolf? Medusa didn't know, tar smell was too strong), was too weak and too far gone to even be able to come back from death's doorstep even if Medusa had tried. So in the end, Medusa had shown her mercy. She placed the bones and pelt at the feet of the statue, then backed away and sauntered off. |
NPC:
The disposition of the familiars shifts subtly as your offering is given. The most disciplined of them remain stoic, though a few cannot help but tsk softly beneath their breath or pierce daggers at you with their gaze. Others seem unsurprised, as if the choice of your gift might be a mistake that is easy to make. Easy, though not entirely forgivable. As with others the sentiment is clear - intention matters, but actions matter more.
An unseen force disturbs the fireflies idling within the skeletal sockets and from them, the swarm returns. The loud buzzing grows louder and louder as they near, flying loose circles around you in a darkened cluster, consuming the light wherever they go. They seem to consider you deeply, inspecting you from each and every angle... or buying time for the fog, which is rolling in thicker than ever before.
Where the fog crashes against you, flesh and muscle is abruptly paralyzed. It sinks deep into your limbs, your spine, and even up to your maw. There will be no running and no begging for mercy, and when the fireflies are satisfied that you cannot strike back against them, they move as one to begin.
Their movements are methodical and precise as several land at the base of your elbow, encircling the portion of limb in a thick black ring. All together their wings begin to beat, the speed of the movement unmatched by any creature alive or dead. Before you have time to really think about what could be happening, your flesh is being sliced. Pain radiates from the wound, building into a cold agony as the wings slice deeper and deeper, through fur, skin, flesh.. and bone.
You hear your lower limb hit the ground before you can truly comprehend what has happened and with your maw still frozen you are prevented from even the catharsis of a scream. The fireflies converge upon the dismembered limb in an inky black ball, lifting it up before you and somehow, slowly, begin to shrink. The flying sphere of bugs and the leg within them seem to be squeezed, the ball becoming smaller and smaller until finally the fireflies break apart with a loud and resounding crack.
Where the bugs had once swarmed, something new begins to fall. It carries the same light-absorbing properties as the fireflies, though no longer is the paw anything resembling your own. In fact, this one seems particularly feline in appearance. Where it hits the ground a pool of ink seems to spread from it, staining the grasses and bubbling softly. It is at this moment that you realize... your pain is gone.
The numbing fog has dissipated and with it your freedom of movement has been returned. All four of your limbs are once again attached to your body, though a particularly odd deep ache radiates from the elbow of your left forelimb, a distant memory of the agony inflicted upon you. You get the feeling that today the God has been gracious, but perhaps you might want to think twice the next time you decide to take a life in the name of Death.
You have received:
Black Cat's Foot
Staff: note when claimed
The disposition of the familiars shifts subtly as your offering is given. The most disciplined of them remain stoic, though a few cannot help but tsk softly beneath their breath or pierce daggers at you with their gaze. Others seem unsurprised, as if the choice of your gift might be a mistake that is easy to make. Easy, though not entirely forgivable. As with others the sentiment is clear - intention matters, but actions matter more.
An unseen force disturbs the fireflies idling within the skeletal sockets and from them, the swarm returns. The loud buzzing grows louder and louder as they near, flying loose circles around you in a darkened cluster, consuming the light wherever they go. They seem to consider you deeply, inspecting you from each and every angle... or buying time for the fog, which is rolling in thicker than ever before.
Where the fog crashes against you, flesh and muscle is abruptly paralyzed. It sinks deep into your limbs, your spine, and even up to your maw. There will be no running and no begging for mercy, and when the fireflies are satisfied that you cannot strike back against them, they move as one to begin.
Their movements are methodical and precise as several land at the base of your elbow, encircling the portion of limb in a thick black ring. All together their wings begin to beat, the speed of the movement unmatched by any creature alive or dead. Before you have time to really think about what could be happening, your flesh is being sliced. Pain radiates from the wound, building into a cold agony as the wings slice deeper and deeper, through fur, skin, flesh.. and bone.
You hear your lower limb hit the ground before you can truly comprehend what has happened and with your maw still frozen you are prevented from even the catharsis of a scream. The fireflies converge upon the dismembered limb in an inky black ball, lifting it up before you and somehow, slowly, begin to shrink. The flying sphere of bugs and the leg within them seem to be squeezed, the ball becoming smaller and smaller until finally the fireflies break apart with a loud and resounding crack.
Where the bugs had once swarmed, something new begins to fall. It carries the same light-absorbing properties as the fireflies, though no longer is the paw anything resembling your own. In fact, this one seems particularly feline in appearance. Where it hits the ground a pool of ink seems to spread from it, staining the grasses and bubbling softly. It is at this moment that you realize... your pain is gone.
The numbing fog has dissipated and with it your freedom of movement has been returned. All four of your limbs are once again attached to your body, though a particularly odd deep ache radiates from the elbow of your left forelimb, a distant memory of the agony inflicted upon you. You get the feeling that today the God has been gracious, but perhaps you might want to think twice the next time you decide to take a life in the name of Death.
You have received:
Black Cat's Foot
Staff: note when claimed
As her mate and *ahem* protective detail, Erebos may crash her threads at anytime!
Please note: Medusa is a wildcard! While she is mostly kind, friendly, and eager to help, she can equally be cold, aggressive, and eager to murder you depending on how you treat her! She refers to herself and often, others, in the third person (illeism), and occasionally has tics due to her Tourette's and may giggle and laugh at random, and may twitch here and there. She is a blood & gore type of character, and is not above killing, maiming, or other such violent actions if she's given a reason to do so. It's often in your best interest to not cross her or get on her bad side. Ya never know what she might do c:
Current time: 11-21-2024, 11:21 AM
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