Touching the Veil - Submission Thread

Player Name: Sea
Character Name: Ciaran
Link to Thread <a href="https://www.ardently.org/showthread.php?tid=42706">Here</a>

<div style="max-width:600px;margin:auto auto;"><span class=warning>NPC: </span>

You must be a foolish pup indeed to actively attempt to summon a demon, and perhaps the only reason you were unsuccessful was that their amusement was more motivating than your stupidity. Behind the veil the evil spirits watched your interaction with the ghost, undecided in how they might move to punish your actions until the very moment your fear reared its head. Entertained by the event and in a decent-enough mood on Samhain, the demons allow Tiburtius to finish his act uninterrupted. You were lucky - this time.

As the ghost steps back into the summoning circle and lets himself fade back into Somnium, something is left in his place. A black cat's foot, it's claws unsheathed and from them dripping an inky black substance. It pools onto the grass and gives off the smell of death and decay, you probably want to be careful handling it.

You have received:

Black Cat's Foot

<span class=warning>Staff: Please note when claimed</span></div>

Player Name: Sea
Character Name: Riva
Link to Thread <a href="https://www.ardently.org/showthread.php?tid=42665">Here</a>

<div style="max-width:600px;margin:auto auto;"><span class=warning>NPC: </span>

From the moment you begin your summoning, guilt surrounds you. You feel it on your shoulders and spine, all the way down to your paws. The weight of it holds you to the ground, immobile. Your daughter is dead and it's your fault, but more than that.. you once had the audacity to blame another, and to allow him to suffer your guilt. Voices in your ears reaffirm this again and again as you stand before Shaye, drawing forth the memory of that time and how you - a master healer - could not even do your job well enough to check for a wound. The wound that supposedly killed your daughter. The wound that did not exist.

A faint sort of tingling begins at the base of your throat, so mild it's almost not noticeable beneath the heavy weight of guilt and the repetitive voices in your mind. It grows slowly, morphing from a tingling into a stinging and then into a pain. You lift your paw to touch upon it, finding it paints your toes a thick, dark crimson. The blood runs down your chest and into the grass - you'd better get that wound looked at. Strangely enough, it's in the exact location Danta's wound was not. Your guilt only grows as you realize the implication.

You have received:

Permanent Scarring - Throat </div>