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Fallen Joy

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About Fallen Joy

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    Roleplay Wizard
  • Birthday 05/31/1990

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  • Occupation
    Aspiring Medical Student
  1. Sharpmate's Noodle Shop

    She diverted her eyes away from the fading fog when a number placement settled on her table. Her gaze trailed from it and to the man that joined her. She took in his image, placing written words to a face, and then allowed her coral lips to smile. “Ulmost seven of them, " her British accent came out smooth. "Forgive me, I seem to have forgotten my wrinkles and gray locks.” Her eyes twinkled with a teasing nature. “And I am not a magician.” Her free slender finger twirled once and puff of purple smoke suddenly transpired above her crown, existing only temporarily before it solidified into a large dark pointed and hunter green hat. “I’m a witch,” she finished as it landed perfectly on her head. As he took that in, she slid the letters mildly across the table with the same finger. “Is this your writing? That would make you Ruiser. A pleasure to meet you. Though..perhaps my shoulder had the pleasure first.” She rolled the one he bumped, but then casually sipped her tea to indicate her jest. “Mmm,” she removed the cup from her lips and inhaled the sweet steam. “The lavender 'erbal is quite exquisite. Now...Do you really have what you say?”
  2. Sharpmate's Noodle Shop

    A small ting of a bell announced her entry. It was followed by a grandiose flare of emerald silk shimmering with flying rain water from the chasing wind. Different shades of the green hue revealed themselves with her stride, the flutter of cloak's wings birthing a lighter shade in her dress and the peeling of its hood blossoming into a forestry of tresses. She shook the latter free of the weather's tears and flung them out her cloak. It was warm in here. The allure of it would draw any from the sudden rain, exemplified by greater occupation of tables. She settled at a vacant spot near an unwanted window where wind stuck dirty wet leaves on the glass. A vanilla candle was the sole aesthetic of the wooden table, but it accentuated a charming mundane blush of crimson undertones to the surface. She removed her damp gloves before retrieving five thin parchments from her cloak. Water droplets spotted the pale sheets into grey, but the golden ink upon the surface remained intact. It even glimmered as if inked from the rays of the sun. She always wrote in magical ink, it gave her confidence that the words within would remain forever true in such a dishonest world. She ordered an herbal tea and a small warm broth to melt her chilled insides. The tea came first, lavender with honey and milk, and she drank it while staring out the dark window. At the time, the evening was early though the rainy weather made it seem late. She watched her newly hot breath fog the cold pane, one hand on the letters as she awaited the recipient.
  3. Talons and Wings, It's a Witch Thing

    Morwenna’s dismal demeanor was a field Ferrah was unfamiliar with. The orcs weren’t ones to comfort one another. Tears in their carmine eyes were basically both taboo and non-existent. She’d never seen it anyway. Maybe when a piece of brimstone got in it. This was likely because orcs normally kicked each other while they were down. “She'll find out sooner or later I failed this. But tell her if you must.” The she-orc hunched her shoulders. She honestly thought she’d become a ball to a bat for her boldness. Instead Morwenna seemed metaphorically tearful at the question. Almost resigned. It reminded her of a hound-pup that lost its way in the crowd. “Orc only follow orders,” she responded. It wasn’t the orc’s business despite her curiosity of the hierarchy within the witches. Chances were it wouldn’t be entertaining anyways. Though Ferrah kept to herself in witchy affairs, she also never heard of Luna punishing another witch. “I'll be in my Chambers. I want to be alone for a while.” The witch walked off with a dismal cloud over her shoulders. Ferrah watched silently, not even finding entertainment at the witch wandering aimlessly lost in the courtyard for a moment even when the witch’s tower was the largest thing in the entire fortress. Again...lost puppy, she thought. “Ugh,” she grimaced her face and exhaled a vexed breath. It wasn’t her problem. She didn't know what she was supposed to do with shit like this. She turned away from the departing witch, assuming her job now was to go back to guarding the dragon’s prison cell. As she strolled there, her mind raced with unwelcomed thoughts of how to solve this problem. There was another witch assigned to this task. This witch was nowhere to be seen, and Ferrah would have to wait for that one. Perhaps she could search for her? No that was a waste of time. Perhaps she would try and convince Morwenna to return. No. Orcs couldn’t enter the witch tower, so whatever Morwenna needed to go through, she needed to do this herself. At least until another witch returned to Ariadne. It was becoming too much thinking, she concluded. She wasn’t that smart. It hurt her head. So she just headed back to the entrance of the tunnel to the dragon’s chamber. She didn’t enter it, but instead she sat outside in the courtyard. She removed one of her daggers and sharpened a bone blade. She complained a lot initially about being involved in dangerous witch nonsense, but at least then she wasn’t bored. Maybe it’ll get better. She'd have to wait to find out.
  4. Talons and Wings, It's a Witch Thing

    Ferrah slowly canted her head as Morwenna went through her thoughts, following the witch with her carmine hues as she strolled with contemplation and vexation before ultimately giving up on her conquest. The she-orc was riddled with bewilderment, but didn’t dare intervene on a witch’s decision. Hell she was pleased with it. The witch giving up meant she did not have to protect her from the dragon and her own skin had a better chance at survival. She uncrossed her arms from her chest. “By your word…” As they strolled out of sight, the echoes of their footsteps fading away into rock and ice, the dragon opened a crystalline blue hue. The winged creature peered at the now vacant darkness outside her prison. A glimmer of sorrow flickered across the iris before she closed her eye again without a sound. Ferrah followed Morwenna back up the caverns of Ariadne, rising her eyes up and down the back side of the witch curiously. She quickly became relaxed as the warmth of her home transpired in breaths of heat. Eventually the purple torches on the walls dispersed as the amber glow of the fiery courtyard manifested. As always, the courtyard was buzzing with activity. Orcs traveled in and out the area, carrying building blocks to the fortress, yelling obscenities at each other, or attending to other duties. The hounds both pups and adults ran around between the orcs, occasionally wrestling with each other like wild wolves. Ferrah brushed off some water droplets from her shoulder fur, melted from the rise into the heat. “What now? Tell big witch?” The question was striven from another curiosity. The sisters had their disagreements, but the orc had never seen a witch completely dismiss a task. Luna of course wasn’t present in the mountain at the time. Some days ago she had left in search of a sword The Matriarch failed at retrieving. Ironically, this was the mission that the Matriarch had returned with Morwenna, who then became a part of the coven. The Matriarch commandeered a 7-headed hydra during that mission, claiming Morwenna was a big part of that success. The more Ferrah thought about it, she less she could prevent the words from leaving her tongue. “Did you really beat the hydra?”
  5. Act, and Witches will act.

    “I left my home after I lost my mother.” The Matriarch offered a sympathetic smile. “I am sorry the Great Mother called her so soon. I did not know her, but if she birthed you, she was a woman to be cherished.” Namiko mentioned of the weather, so the blind Matriarch closed her eyes and focused on the air. The blade resting between her shoulders tingled with delight and energies gathered within the dark clouds above. The sky was tense in anticipation of kissing the earth and making the skies blush with light. “Indeed my sister. Not only a storm, but one of thunder.” “Shelter in the gorge may be enough...” To this, the Matriarch opened her eyes with a frown upon her porcelain face. She understood the danger of storms in the darkness and did not wish to discomfort her sister in such harsh conditions. But so much time had already been wasted on her capture. The rise of the new moon would not wait for weather conditions. The condensing black veil above was perhaps an ominous sign of the foreboding event on the rise. It made her want to rush even more. "I like hearing about yourself.. I have spent most of my time alone with animals..” A sudden flush a pink appeared upon her face. She hunched her shoulders with slight embarrassment, nearly forgetting her previous dilemma. “My story was nothing but tragic before I met Luna and my other sisters.” Her mind warmed at the thought and she smiled further. “The sisterhood freed me from years of solitude and slavery. Luna taught me culture and made me realized my magic was a gift and not an object to be abused and shamed for.” Though blind, her misty orbs illuminated with loving emotion. “I do hope that…after this is over. I can introduce you to the coven.” The orcs approached the beginning of the land bridge connecting the gorge of darkness. Kana took her steed to the edge, looking down into the darkness. “The gorge is too deep for us to climb down to the bottom,” she-orc said in her orc tongue to catch the Matriarch’s attention. Kana’s carmine eyes focused, apparently capable of piercing through the darkness. “There is a river below and caverns on the side. We’d have to leave the steeds, but the caverns can easily by reached by rope.” Matriarch listened, mildly stunned at Kana’s sudden eagerness to assist the situation. The orcs typically kept to themselves unless directly addressed with words or a deadly situation. The Matriarch sighed slow. “It’s important for us to reach Dougton by the sunrise. Tomorrow night is the new moon, the night that my premonition comes to pass. Forgive me, sister. We cannot rest. We must be in Dougton by sunrise.” With that the Bodyguard urged the Matriarch’s steed forward and they began to cross the gorge. Kana paused with a frown but followed after. Namiko was to follow third and Tana at the rear. As if on cue, it started to rain. The first droplet touched the Matriarch’s skin, cold and wet. She glanced up into the dark and cloud began to sob wildly. Matriarch’s hair darkened and her snowy skin shimmered with droplets. She was immediately uncomfortable. Not at the cold chill or wetness, but the suddenness. Something felt wrong. In the middle of the land bridge, the beastly steeds started to grunt with discomfort. The night seemed darker and the wind swirled with shrills. The entire calmness of the world disappeared. Lightning flashed across the skies, banishing the night. And in that second, five hooded figures transpired before them. They lined up where the bridge touched the other end of the gorge. The Matriarch’s steed immediately halted, thrashing its head anxiously. . The witch h couldn’t see, but she felt them immediately. Their presence reached across the air and molested her body with a grotesque familiar chill. The feeling was just like that accursed hill in Dougton. Immediately she grasped her blade, pointing it forward with a threatening stab and dripping rainwater. The mist in her blind orbs brightened with energy. “Who are you?” She demanded. The hooded figures remained silent. The Matriarch narrowed her eyes with a rising temper. “Speak or get out of our way!” “You have something of ours.” The voice was dark and booming. Though it should have been drowned in the rain and thunder, it was instead as clear and creepy as lips whispering it into the ear. The Matriarch did not deter. “We have nothing.” One of the rouged figured lifted a hand. Suddenly the pack on the side of Namiko’s horse immediately shot forward, attempting to dislodge itself from the satchel and into the caller’s hands. Hopefully it was grabbed before then. The Matriarch snarled under her teeth. “Who are you?!” “You’ll be too dead to care in a moment.” The rouges revealed their hands from their sleeves and all their fingers glowed with an intense purple. In a single swift motion, they touched the earth. A fissure ran from the contact like a horrid snake and slithered rapidly to the bridge before spreading its venom throughout the foundation. The land rumbled ominously and the Matriarch’s eyes widen. The were taking down the bridge with them on it. “Turn, turn!” Immediately the Bodyguard yanked the reigns of the steed, shouting orc commands and urging it to its hing-legs. The steed rotated and landed on other end. However, she could only go as fast as the others to reverse to the other side.
  6. Talons and Wings, It's a Witch Thing

    “You didn't need to throw me against the wall like that. Almost broke my arm." Ferrah scrunched her face into several ugly wrinkles but remained silent. She lowered her eyes, keeping her gaze down in a stubborn but apologetic manner. Orcs weren’t gentle by nature. She did it to protect the witch, despite how gladly she would have let the witch freeze if she were vulnerable to it. Unappreciative, she thought, but didn’t dare say. She whisked a silver thread from her face and eventually just nodded to the witch, allowing her to return her quip to the dragon. The dragon was much less submissive. "You're not the only one who lost something precious. The egg is probably with the high witch and safe. But I do not know. But I do know what it's like to lose someone precious. I lost my home, family and friends due to my own magic. So you can throw your tantrum at someone else. The dragon at least narrowed her eyes at the words and stared long and hard at Morwenna. The creature leered in silence at the witch for a long moment, thoughts seeming to coil intensely within her own mind. She suddenly she exhaled long through her nostrils, softening her eyes despite the anger still shivering violently off her body. “It appears you’re no more than a child yourself.” Her mental voice rang calmly. The dragon then turned, stepping away from the bars. “Someone so quelled within their own tribulations cannot help me. Bring me someone of importance.” The dragon left from the view of the bars, curling on the flattened surface of a rock and closing her eyes. “Any ideas why I am here orc? Besides talking with an enraged dragon?” For perhaps the trice time, Ferrah gave Morwenna an incredulous look. “You no know?” She said honestly. “Luna says you one of witch that tame dragon.” The orc scratched her head dumbly and turned her eyes off to the side. She thought for a moment, something did not do often or well, then shrugged her shoulders greatly. “I no know why you.” She paused, scratching her head some more. She looked beyond the witch and towards the bar. Moments ago that dragon was raging in an unspeakable furry. Now it was merely ignoring them. “But dragon was angry...now is calm." It was something that as a beast tamer, stood out to the orc and an interesting concept that she rarely encountered. Sometimes ferocious beasts with the potential of raging all hell on anything that crossed its path, much like this dragon was, was completely calm in the face of an innocuous presence. It was the settlement all fury in the face of zero threat. The orc grimaced at the concept. She'd be strongly insulted if that were her. "What want to do?"
  7. Beyond the Mysterious Beyond

    “A child? Do you believe it is been stolen or taken the over the child’s body?” “Stolen. Possessed. Perhaps the murderer themselves.” That last was important to mention. Children had fathomless potential in the worlds of arcane existence. Some of which was awoken through harsh environments, the abusive quip of a family’s dismissal, when it should have stayed dormant forever. Other children were pure slates of evil, born with the devil in their hearts to no one’s fault but the cruel die of destiny. The tenderly folded the blanket and lapped it over her forearm. “You believe me to be a mistake of incompetence,” she delivered apathetically albeit sharply. “That I am what you call a ‘loophole’.” The gold in her eyes rose slow like the sunrise, staring at the vampire in a gradual fashion and blinking slow. Her invisible thoughts mulled for a moment before she turned away and approached the door way. “The child is not our problem, would you like to come with me?” The demon paused. “We could take some of the books here, take them to a local soccer and try have them identified. That would lead us to what the family was attempting, a way to find the killer and a method hopefully to send you home.” As the worlds settled, her smoke tresses shimmering their way in a glide across her shoulders as the demon obliquely glanced at Persephone from her shoulder. “So, are you feeling up to a little adventure friend?" “Adventure.” She repeated with a curious blink while vampire winked. “Friend.” She stood in a prolonged silent at these words. There was little tension, just quiet. But it would not be long before the storm came. Suddenly her nose flared wildly and the hues in her eyes brightened. “Get down.” In that instant, the walls from behind the vampire exploded inward. Dust and debris clouded the air in a forced exhale and through the roaring maw came a ghostly specter. It was a ghastly woman. Her pale transparent head stood out from her body, for the latter was cocooned in ebony armor. The armor grew up her body in gnarled knots like a withered tree trunk, extended in a similar branch-like fashion to her arms and faking out into horrid clawed digits. One of those vicious claws were thrown out, severing to break through the wall and aim for the open field between the vampire’s shoulders. If the vampire dodged as per her warning, the ghost continued forward with her momentum towards the demonic faun. In response the demon prepared her hooves on the planked wood and spun to her left, the clopping sound her dancing keratin was balanced by the glide of her slender body. Then like thorns to a rose, an illuminating claw slashed the exposed flank armor of the monster and sent it barreling off track, claws marked tattooed into its armored side. It shrieked like a banshee and made the windows rattled. The ghost caught itself quite easily and faced the two again. The claw marks disappeared. Eerie rage filled the specter’s eyes before it shrieked again and flew straight for the vampire a second time. The demon glanced over at Persephone, and immediately caught on. It was after the mirror. In response to its presence, the mirror began to rattle restlessly within the vampire’s hand.
  8. Dragons Are Forever

    "Yes. Riodan and I can patch up from the top. Cover up some of these exits. Kamal will stay with you and allow me to see what you see.” Natasha’s eyes widened in a rare display, the bulging of her black retinal veins in full view as the snake suddenly slithered upon on her body. “What?” she blurted out. Tension rolled up her spine and coiled in her neck so intensely that she thought it would break. Her rough skin barely allowed her to feel the smooth coral nature of the snake, but it was premise of something she couldn't murder caressing so close within her zone that struck her. Even moreso, the impeccable symbolism of trust behind it. Natasha stared incredulously at Alexandria, pressing her lips into the thinnest line possible. She shared Kamal's sentiment, but nodded accordingly. “As you wish...” "If things get too messy, pull back." She quirked her brow at this command, and then grinned on the inside. She loved when witches gave vague definitions to their words—it mean loopholes. She didn’t know what a loophole was, but she did know that if the witches weren’t direct, she could find ways to push the limits of their commands and her obligation to fulfill them. Thus far, she was the only orc smart enough to do this. Feeling suddenly excited, she slapped the blades of her gauntlets together eagerly. Being reminded of the prospect of a fight was an instant turn on to her bloodlust, and nothing was 'too messy' for her. The flicker of the snake’s tongue drew her from it. She glanced her eyes over at Kamal and his glistening scaly body. She knew no such thing as retreat...but she did know nothing could happen to this snake. Suddenly the thought of pushing boundaries seemed less appealing. That was a part of her she didn’t expect. It sucked. It was at this moment that she noticed Alexandria staring at her. She met the glaze, did not break it because she never broke eye contact. Suddenly it sucked a little less. “Witch be careful,” Marquise said as Alexandria took the torch. “And take Odri.” One of the hounds bounded by her side. He was distinguished from the others by a grey patch on his right massive paw. “Track way back always. Good nose.” He gently knocked the hound on one of the three snouts with his huge fists, who snorted out loudly and shook its head. “Also like witches.” The hound stared up at Alexandria appropriately, wagging its tail rapidly. As Alexandria walked off, it bounded behind her. Natasha watched Alexandria walk away for a time before she caught Marquise's stare. “What?” “Nothing. Hounds and I take low ground and set up the fires. You take Via with you.” “I don’t need her.” “But I need you to not be killed.” Natasha paused then growled viciously. “You suggesting I’m weak?” “I’m suggesting you’re distracted.” When Natasha took a menacing step towards him, he quickly added. “With protecting witch pet. Hound can carry it out if need be.” Natasha glanced at Kamal. She was silent for a moment, then nodded. “Fine. Come Via.” The sleek hound came slowly to her side. Marquise nodded to Natasha and walked into the dark opening of mountain. Ultimately he took a different path than Alexandra, leaping down into one of the black seemingly endless pits where the walkways ended. Natasha remained outside for a moment, using the alone time to scratch her head in frustration and sigh. She looked at Kamal. “Witch pet cling tight.” The she-orc entered the cave. Like Marquise she did so without a torch, and within the darkness her carmine eyes took an eerie and piercing glow. So did Via's many eyes, The cave was dark and dry, wisps of heated wind slithering from the shadows on occasion. Natash occasionally inhaled this wind as they traveled. The light dispersed almost entirely, yet the stroll of the she-orc never faltered. She walked with the confidence of sight, suggesting just that. Eventually she started up invisible inclines, shifts in the dust making her pause in investigate, but often ending in nothing but a benign cave dwelling rodent or bat. Other time she jump far, suggesting gapes in the earth. Then after almost an hour, she stopped and glanced up. In the air above there was a beam of light horizontally entering the darkness and fading eventually in strength. It revealed a limited cone of walls surrounding, suggesting they'd entered a large vertical tunnel of sorts. The light was coming from another opening in the cavern. Natasha tracked it by smelling the subtle changes of fragrances in the air as she walked, the hound often confirming her direction. The opening was fairly far up, perhaps a hundred feet. She crouched down gripped Via by one of her scruffs. “Hang on.” With a burst of energy, she leapt from the ground, flying through winds of darkness before a sudden force suggested she touched upon a wall’s edge. Before gravity enraptured them she leapt again, diagonally flying into the opposite direction and meeting another edge. Her pattern continued until they only twenty feet under the opening and she stabbed one of her gauntlets into the mountainside, dangling the hound on the other hand and feet planted against the wall. She was surprisingly light footed and body became intensely warm from the work effort. She equally exhaled feverish breathes. Then with a grunt, she swung her arm with impressive strength and the hound yelped as it went flying above them, tumbling onto a small edge piece under the cave opening. The hound grumbled to a stand, shook off the dust, and all three heads barked.. The sounds echoed throughout the empty space. Natasha squinted her eyes and snarled up at the beast who immediately released an apologetic low whine and knelt down. But it was too late. The sudden flutter of wings caught the orc’s attention. Asynchronous sounds of flapping surrounded them like a mesh of wind. Natasha’s eyes had already spotted several of them in their journey, but they were sleeping. The opening they scaled had three sleeping on the walls. Likely guards to the entrance. And now they were awake. “Damn it.” She muttered and then quickly started to climb the wall to reach the opening. As she did, wings became the snarls of wakening dragons. ------- As Alexandria crept along the thinning pathways, the light of the torch reached out some feet ahead of her and glimmered upon an odd spindled of silk on the ground. If touched, it was thick and sticky, clinging to the hand tightly until a good tug released it. This isolated spindle became more numerous as she progressed, eventually turning into lines the extended out into the darkness and crossed with others. If she extended her torch high, she’d see many more filling the empty air. Though growing, more of them were avoidable. Eventually the threads above netted so much that they weaved into a beautiful amber hued (from the flames) pattern traveling directly across the middle of an open space in the mountain. They likely connected to the other side. The lines were thick like corded rope, and stuck within were several sparse pieces of bones. Dragon bones. It soon became apparent that Alexandria was wondering just underneath the dwelling of a dragon-eating spider’s nest. The web suddenly vibrated, beating once like a heart. But there was no spider to be seen, and the flames light could not extend that far to the otherside. Dare she investigate more? If so, she’d see that the land flattened out into the platform jutting out from the internal mountainside. It had a good 10ft diameter and scattered bones and webs that covered the earth and wall like a carpet. The webs curled and coiled in one of the corners of the platform, forming what look like cave. This spider ate well and likely dined or rested here. But there limited extension of the torch could not see if the webbed cave was occupied. The lines above pulsated again. If she was further in, she’d see the source. It wasn’t a spider. It was a cocoon of white trapped in the middle of the web. Beneath it, a long scaly tail dangled. Every now and then the tail and thrashed, hitting the webs and making everything vibrate. The spider was still yet to be seen, but it was apparently saving its next meal.
  9. Act, and Witches will act.

    Her story was short but telling. For the Matriarch it was not the words themselves but from the delivery, tones, and manners of speech. Most importantly to her blind eyes, it was the aura radiating from the witch. “You hold a sense of tragic nostalgia about your past,” the Matriarch gently said without looking at her sister. “Your aura softens like winter at the memory, nestling both the beauty and travesty of a cold reminence.” The white witch saw the metaphysical threads that wove one’s existence, both their the past, present, and future. This was how she possessed premonitions. She often attempted to use this to decipher thoughts and emotions as well. “To believe it better to live alone suggests either the fear of being with others or alternatively you praise solitude as your paradise.” The Matriarch closed her eyes to think for a moment. “But I don’t believe it to be the later. I sense kinship suits you more.” She suddenly hunched her shoulders apologetically. “Alas...that is presumptive. I’m afraid I am better at predicting the future than the feelings of others. You see...emotions and thoughts reflect as colors to me in the ambiance around you, but they dance and swirl with such complexity that it can be impossible to isolate a single one. So I guess. It is, how you say...a facial expression for me? They can be difficult to decipher.” She smiled and opened her eyes. “But for the majority of my years, I saw nothing but darkness and possibilities of my own fate that never came to be. Dead hope. I was surrounded by the dull minds of these orcs, and felt nothing but their brutal society for decades. Becoming one with the coven allowed me to see true color for the first time.” She realized she had drifted into a tangent about herself and scrunched her face a second time in frustration. “Ah, I uh…I am also used to conversing with only myself. Please, tell me more about your village. Your cottage was indeed far from the oceans. What caused you to leave?” As she awaited the answer, the Bodyguard suddenly lowly grunted to the Matriarch, informing her of the landscape ahead. Before the caravan existed a gorge in the land that descended into a deep black valley connected by strip of rocky land. The dim setting of the growing night made it hard to see the land below—even more so, the sky above had begun to shield the stars with deep clouds of grays and blacks. The air moistened and the brisk wind seemed pregnant with impending rain. The orcs pulled their steeds into a linear fashion as the gorge grew closer; the strip only wide enough to comfortably carry them in sequential order.
  10. Talons and Wings, It's a Witch Thing

    “Leave us. I can deal with this.” “I can’t,” Ferrah immediately responded. Literally she couldn't; it was a direct order from Luna to watch over the witches during this interaction. She was to throw herself into the closing maw of the dragon in their stead if need be. While the prospect of death did little to rattle the orc, for she faced such threats every day in their society, she was not fond of how easily this death presented itself to her. As she watched Morwenna, she felt the plausibility of her demise falling upon her like falling skies and beyond her control. Despite the witch’s words, the orc knew fear, weakness, and a lack of confidence when she saw it. Like a wild animal, she smelted it out and Morwenna's scent was as potent as freshly split blood. Ferrah scrunched her face; that was exactly what she smelt intermingled in the fear, the soon to be spill of her own blood. “Witch says no leave alone. Will stay out of way, but dragon very angry.” Ferrah stood defiantly, though only by her own obligation to be loyal, and behind the witch. This turned out to be the right decision. Morwenna reached naively for the bars and the orc's eyes widened. Instantly she snatched the robes of the witch, tugging her back with a stern and aghast expression before contact could be made. The bars were riddled with electricity. It was the same voltage that shocked the dragon and prevented it from thrashing the bars. The orc released the witch’s attire, staring at her incredulously. “Bars have shock like lightning. No touch.” Was the witch seriously going to reach through the bars? Did she want to be frozen in a storm of voltage while the dragon snapped her arm from its socket? Perhaps the witch was immune to both. Thinking about it gave Ferrah a headache, so she decided not to question but to only act. Better to be chastised than have to walk back to Luna with an armless barbecued witch in her arms. Suddenly the ground rattled violently and brisk. The dragon’s gargantuan talon had stamped right before the bars. Low mist flew from the saber sharp talons and a snarl oscillated through the air. The creature's breath thickened the very atmosphere with its horrid temper. It lowered its head into view, optics glowing bright with icy magic. This dragon had already demonstrated the capability of instantly freezing anything within ten feet of her into crystallized structures—yet she only remained there menacing leering at the witch. “Why are you angry o’ mighty beast?” “Why?” her low velvet voice echoed through the mind of witch with fangs doing nothing more than snarling. “You come to my mountain, you mangle and batter me. You steal my child. The child I have been holding within me for over a thousand years. The sole purpose of my descent upon this miserable piece of earth. And you dare ask why I am angry?!” A vicious roar suddenly exploded from her mouth, her breath was like the coldest parts of winter exploding into the tunnel, making the stalagmites shiver and the corridors screech and pale with frost. Ferrah was immediately in front of Morwenna, pinning her against the wall and shadowing her body with the sinewy curves of her own. She felt her silver hair flare wildly over her shoulders and the muscle of her back stiffen from the onslaught of biting cold. When the roar settled, the orc exhaled a thick cloud of mist and walked away from the witch, brushing the frost off her body as she did so. She returned to her position on the sidelines, crossing her arms. The orc had acted without thought, and now all her thoughts without action were of mere frustration. The dragon held the witch in the reflection of her luminous eyes, ignoring Ferrah. She repeated herself slow. “What has become of my egg?”
  11. It's well worth the brief moments of insanity.
  12. Thanks for bringing some activity to Shrine City. c:

    1. Fallen Joy

      Fallen Joy

      You're very welcome =]

  13. Dragons Are Forever

    "If need be, I have my bells this time." Marquise turned his carmine squinty eyes down towards the bells that this witch had mentioned twice now since their meeting. His quirked his thick furry brow and scrunched his face in confusion. He couldn’t fathom how simple bells perhaps no bigger than a hell hounds nut sack could possibly take a domineering toll on beasts like dragons. He tamed beast with brute force, not fairy music. His dull mind chew over it for a moment, staring adamantly at the witch’s hip and canting his head as they swayed. He tried to grasp whatever power they might have held. He blinked stupidly once and then twice, but eventually dropped it all--too much thinking for his liking. After all, the witch had praised and approved his idea, that threw wood into his already blazing pride. It didn’t seem possible at this point, he managed to grinned even more. “See that, Natasha? Witch approves of my intelligence.” He grunted in glee and held his bulk muscle-bundled torso high as if moments from producing a king’s roar across the pridelands. When Natasha didn’t respond, he glanced over...only to see one of his hounds drooling and panting happily up at him where the she-orc once stood. He blinked, as did the hound before it tilted all three heads towards the mountain; Natasha was already following behind Alexandria. He grunted in frustration and quickly pursued them both, the hound giving him a barking laughter as it and the others followed. The troupe traveled through the palisade of rock and foliage, hounds running in constant treads ahead, around, and behind them. Marquise immediately set them into tracking the scents of their targets, fortunate enough to find feces along with scales and abandoned talons impressively hidden in the dust. The hounds sniffed them all and learned the scents, consequently ensuring their trek towards the hive. Natasha tread a couple feet behind Alexandria, staring absentmindedly at her own reflection dancing upon the golden metallic surface of the battle gear. Her mind was still heavy with thought and confusion from her earlier interaction with the witch. To say her thought laden mind was new was a misconception, she had been burdened by her own intelligence for sometime time. Questions constantly rolled bitterly on her tongue, and while her aggressive habits and outbursts often prevented them from itching too persistently, this long tread up the mountainside was simply too quiet and her thoughts too loud. She clinched her fists--if only there was something to kill right now. What she would have given to just kick one of those annoying jolly-happy hounds sweeping occasionally just before her stride--a good echoing yelp would make her feel better. “Alright, none of us can fly, so we might as well as do this here.” Natasha paused to realized they were standing before a cavern opening. Finding it seemed easy enough, but the hounds tracking the scent and the bird’s eyes view from above likely contributed to their discovery. Natasha strolled passed and in front of the witch, inspecting the opening of the cave. This culture and breed of orcs grew up in the darkness, spending as much time as dwarfs if not more within tunnels of darkness. She inhaled deeply, took a few steps into the darkness, touched the ground, felt for vibrations, and thought for a long moment until Alexandria presented her question. “Find hive before night." She said. "Dragons seem less wake in day.” She glanced up to emphasize her point. With the growing reports of orcs disappearing for the past few weeks, mixed with the fact they hadn’t noticed one thus far and their few hour tread, she assumed the beasts more accustomed to the cooler dusk hours. The sun was kissing the heavens at its widow’s peak at this point, she expected more activity in the skies. As disorganized and chaotic as the orcs were, she wouldn’t have been surprised if orcs has been missing for days before anyone noticed. “Much dry air in tunnel, warm too. Little trek on ground, but dirt loose. Dragons fly in and out, no walk. Likely wide tunnel, possibly little ground to walk on. Is dark like night, but not night of no moon. Many openings let in light. If use smoke here, no reach dragons.” She inhaled again, and at her feet, the hounds were approaching and doing the same. Marquise followed in flow from the rear, his bulky arms pregnant with a great mass of foliage and dry bark that he had gathered on their journey up. The hounds turned to him and whined softly. He listened to them, oddly as his he understood them. Even more particular, his carmine eyes seems to swirl within those black vesseled sclera when he did. “More than dragons,” he noted. Natasha nodded in agreement. “Different smells in cave wind.” The mountain must have been inhabited with things other than dragons, perhaps because they had found one of the lower entry points of the mountains. It was possible this wasn’t even their main cavern at all. But they would soon find out. A bark suddenly crackled in the air as an over zealous hound ran at the vulture that landed with bones, drooling heavy with slime down its long tongue before it spontaneously leaped for a pounce. In truth it was going for the bones, but who could help the animal instinct of pouncing another animal in the meantime? Whether the bird escaped or not, Natasha turned a sharp eye at Marquise who immediately approached and grabbed the hound harshly by the scruff and threw it to the ground. The hound yelped and ran back. “Hound just want scent,” he said defensively then cleared his throat. “We find hive, I light and fill with smoke.” “Separate, maybe.” Natasha noted. “ Hive likely have openings. Find and seal them. Keep smoke in longer. What witch...What Alexandria think?” Marquise started loading the hounds' harnesses with the foliage he gathered. When he finished, all but one of the hounds held packs of dry leaf and branches. He then took a long branch, wrapped it tight in a cloth, and approached the hound he tossed but a while ago. The hound crouched down in submission. He opened one of its mouths and shoved the clothed end of the branch inside. The hound snarled in aggravation and chewed on the branch, its drool saturating the fabric. Marquise then removed the branch, producing a metallic flint and soon sparks that kissed the damp cloth. Instantly the branch became a torch. He reached it over to Alexandria. "To see in dark.”
  14. Act, and Witches will act.

    As the witches returned to the orcs, tension in the air seemed to be on the rise. The twins had distanced themselves from each other, aggression rolling off their shoulders in unpleasant waves, and the Bodyguard stared intensely at the Matriarch, laden with thoughts he desired to express. Though the Matriarch felt the tightening coils in the ambience, but she continued as if it wasn’t present. They had more pressing matters than internal tribulations amongst their barbaric soldiers. Before continuing, the witches would take the time to alleviate their famished bodies. The Matriarch partook in the rough jerk meat she grew up on in her youth whilst Namiko found her saddle adorned with a spread of freshly picked berries pregnant with succulent sweetness. The orc had also placed along with dried, smoked meat packed for their journey with it. Afterwards they continued their tread through the marsh forestry and moist landscape of Coconino Creek. Though it was beautiful and alluring to the white witch, for nature’s energy was the most welcoming to her craft, she knew it was only passing moment in their journey. She was grateful that it went undisturbed. Soon the damp earth was abandoned by its threading rivers and lost the richness to the sunlight above. The steeds were relieved by the gain of footing but sulked in the accompanying heat. Still the orcs worked the traveling beasts relentlessly. The Matriarch’s urgency expressed through the constant strikes to their flanks and they demonstrated impressive endurance in return. Though the husk beasts sweated and panted profusely, their legs continued forward stubbornly. The witch couldn’t afford to rest them long when they did, for time was even more pressing than their possible exhaustion. They had to get to Doughton before the rising sun the following morning if they were to catch the new moon. The hours eventually tucked the sun under the golden covers of the horizon and stars snuck out to twinkle and play in the heavens. The troupe was trotting on a dirt cascaded road with bends of grassy landscape surrounding them. By the appearance, it was a passage commonly traveled by merchants and wanderers leaving the creek. The city was still several hours away, but they were getting close. The orcs drew the steeds to a slower trot, giving them a breather within the soft breeze and calming dusk. The Matriarch opened her misted eyes and turned her face to the skies. For the majority of the journey, she was silent, meditating and searching for more premonitions and clues to their future. Unfortunately everything still seemed incredibly obscure and fickle. The only clarity was Namiko being a monumental factor in its guidance. She also thought about the elves they would eventually face--searching her memories for any knowledge of them. She was enslaved within the confines of a volcanic mountain for many years and wished Luna, with her prolonged years of acquired knowledge, was with them. Her calls to their coven leader had also gone unanswered. Luna must have been very far away. She hoped that was the case. “Where do you come from, Sister?” She suddenly asked, bringing her face back on the road. “I feel so close to you, yet we haven’t really the moment to get to know one another. If we are to fight tooth and tail together, we should learn more about each other.” She smiled softly. “Don’t you think? Tell me about yourself.”