Roleplay Logs!

Caoimhaen

@Tibitha pft. He just assumes I skulk. Moping or sauntering or both is probably more accurate...everyone just assumes I am up to no good. Heh. Which you know what they say about assuming...>.>;

Tibitha

Something something smoke, fire?

Tahquil

I don't like self-quoting, or really having logs of my RP flashed around. I'm not one for self-aggrandizing but I would just like to highlight the epicness of my RP partner in this scene because to be honest I thought I had bored her into not replying.

When Tahquil left Targossas she asked @Aurora what professions she should take and She suggested Sylvan. An agreement was had that when Tahquil took a grove they would have tea. I've cut out the personal conversation which isn't relevant and this is how it ended.
Setting: Burnt woods.
The bright sun shines down, blanketing you with its life-giving warmth. Only the husks of blackened, burnt trees and the strong smell of sulphur remains here, in the wake of a past fire. Soot-covered stones lie scattered about the ground, and the burnt bones of a fairly large creature poke through a mound of ash. A variety of animal tracks are embedded in the fine powder lining the ground, most of them heading west toward the Pachacacha River.  A fragile seedling sprouts from the blighted earth. Aurora, the Lightbringer is here, golden motes weaving through Her resplendence. She wields the Scimitar of Righteousness in Her left hand and the Scimitar of the Dawn in Her right.
You see exits leading north, east, south, southwest, west, and northwest.

Aurora looks about Herself, rubbing Her chin thoughtfully.

Aurora, the Lightbringer asks, "You have no plans to vacate this grove?"

Tahquil blinks as her gaze pans over the ash-covered skeleton.

You say, "Not in the near future. It's going to take a while for it to heal."

Aurora nods.

Your mouth turns up as your face breaks into a smile.

Aurora, the Lightbringer says, "From the ashes comes rebirth."

You say, "We all need little pet projects to keep us sane. This will be mine for a while."

Aurora, the Lightbringer says, "Growth would manifest."

You nod your head at Aurora.

You say, "Like a phoenix, or so I hope."

The Lightbringer pushes the tip of the Scimitar of Dawn into the blackened floor, soft blessings dropping from Her lips.

Stretching in a fiery arc that embraces the world, the triune rings of Achaea blaze in response to the first kiss of dawn.

You blink.

You say, "Lady Lightbringer?"

Tahquil drops the teacup in her hands as she begins to fret.

You say, "What are you doing?"

A soft glow encases the soil directly around the weapon, the ground soothed by the infusion of Light. Free hand outstretched, the Goddess of Light leans forward, delicate motes whirling in the adjacent air.

Aurora's mouth turns up as Her face breaks into a smile.

Aurora, the Lightbringer says, "A flower for a beautiful petal, no less."

Burnt woods.
The bright sun shines down, blanketing you with its life-giving warmth. Only the husks of blackened, burnt trees and the strong smell of sulphur remains here, in the wake of a past fire. Soot-covered stones lie scattered about the ground, and the burnt bones of a fairly large creature poke through a mound of ash. A variety of animal tracks are embedded in the fine powder lining the ground, most of them heading west toward the Pachacacha River.  A fragile seedling sprouts from the blighted earth. An indigo nightfire butterfly flutters here peacefully. A common red admiral butterfly flits about over your head. A simple blue cup sits here. Engulfed in a thick web of silvery dewdrops, Tahquil's Grace flutters softly in the breeze.  Aurora, the Lightbringer is here, golden motes weaving through Her resplendence. She wields the Scimitar of Righteousness in Her left hand and the Scimitar of the Dawn in Her right.
You see exits leading north, east, south, southwest, west, and northwest.

Aurora, the Lightbringer says, "A little out of place in amongst the black, but I would hope it represents the ability of Creation to heal and advance."

Her brow creased in confusion, Tahquil looks about the grove. As her eyes alight on the blue petals of the rose her features slacken as she falls to her knees amidst the remaining ash.

Aurora, the Lightbringer says, "I would leave you to your grove, Tahquil Maris. It has, as ever, been an enlightening conversation."

Aurora leans forward and places a gentle kiss on your forehead.

Aurora's mouth turns up as Her face breaks into a smile.

A searing flame of purest ivory erupts beneath Aurora, enveloping Her in blinding illumination. When it dissipates, the Lightbringer is gone.

Tahquil doesn't cry or blabber at the beauty of the plant, merely closing her eyes as she bows her head in mute gratitude.

-a short while later-

You tell Aurora, "Thank you."

The Divine voice of Aurora echoes in your head, "You are welcome! It should not disappear, or move."

You tell Aurora, "Never know, soon it may cover all the valley. The butterflies are already visiting it."

You smile softly.

Tahquil opens her eyes slowly, crawling on her hands and knees through the sulphuric smelling ash to touch the rose, checking that it is indeed real.

You reach out and touch a delicate rose of ivory hue.

You say, "My first flower..."

You sigh contentedly.

Tahquil rocks back onto her feet, then her behind as she leans her back against the aged ribcage in the grove, content to simply watch the butterflies visit her new flower for a time.

A delicate rose of ivory hue
Tiny droplets of moisture nuzzle deep into the silken petals of Tahquil's Grace, the fledgeling rose thronged in a shimmering aura of silvery dewdrops. The soft ivory folds burst with vibrance and vitality, begging the touch of passing fingers. Protecting the delicate bloom, thorns vicious in their razor sharpness splay along the length of the slender stalk. A faint scent of honey and spice emanates from the flower as it sways to and fro in an errant breeze.

Herenicus

Self-quotes and aggrandizement are the lifeblood of this thread! Leave them alone!

Aurora

Always a pleasure, Ms Hedgehog.

Tahquil

@Aurora : I do want to know though, were you intentionally waiting so that the dawn echo would occur just before you planted the flower or was that sheer luck?

Aurora

I think I pilfered Luck from Hermes!

Halos

We call those "style points" in this thread

Herenicus

The Mhaldor Theatre (indoors).
A giant proscenium arch frames the stage at the southern end of the room. The massive red curtain has been drawn apart, allowing full view of the stage. Elegant golden sconces hold hundreds of candles along the outwardly curving walls, reflected by mirrors set behind them in a brilliant display of dancing light. An array of comfortable chairs and tables fills the theatre, allowing for parties of people to group themselves together. Just beside the stage, a narrow operator's box allows the stage-manager a view of the house and stage. A runic totem is planted solidly in the ground. Lying flat on the ground is a key-shaped sigil. A sigil in the shape of a small, rectangular monolith is on the ground. A nebulous water weird is here.  Oren I'llur, Herald of the Insidium is here, hidden. She wields a training lash in her left hand and a needle-pointed dirk in her right. Kepeli, Apprentice of Manipulation is here, shrouded. He wields a flail in each hand. The Golden Dragon Saeva's imposing form looms. Naga Saibel Aristata is here, hidden. She wields a serrated dirk of cold steel in her left hand and a menacing, obsidian-tipped whip in her right. Dread Emissary Crixos Nithilar, Thrall of Saibel is here. He wields a blackened cavalry shield with ivory accents in his right hand. Domina Tasuu Nithilar is here. Dread Legate Taraus Bravi'os is here, hidden. Naga Mycen Dracrotalus, Crimson Arrow of Malevolence is here, hidden. Her face is partially concealed beneath a raised hood. She wields a Shield of Absorption bearing the arms of Naga in her left hand and a Wyvern's Lash in her right. Acolyte Ast, Advocate of Strength is here. She wields a bard's lyre in her right hand. Kitiara, Apprentice of Manipulation is here. Melodie Le'Murzen, Herald of the Insidium is here. She wields a bronze shield inlaid with sea glass in her left hand. Aegoth I'llur, Advocate of Strength is here. He wields a disfigured staff of kindled birch in his left hand and a baleful, menacing scimitar in his right. Eminence Orzaansyn I'llur, the Abomination is here. Naga Herose Lichlord, Shadow of Suffering is here. His face is partially concealed beneath a raised hood. He wields a Lupine bow in both hands. Dread Emissary Zuysheam, Thrall of Saibel is here.
You see exits leading north and in (closed door).

Kitiara smiles at the audience.

Kitiara says in a cold voice, "Welcome, esteemed citizens of Mhaldor."

Kitiara says in a cold voice, "Thank you all for coming and I especially want to thank the Tyrannus for allowing the use of the theatre for the evening. I am delighted to have you here to participate and share in the Evil Arts Show today."

Kitiara says in a cold voice, "I feel very honoured and humbled to be standing before you. Today we gather in Evil festivities and rejoice in the talents of our citizens. For the city and for the Master."
 
Kitiara says in a cold voice, "It is at occasions such as this that we come together to share in the darkness and Evil through talent. May the sights on this day fill you with awe as we spread Evil in art form."
  
Kitiara says in a cold voice, "Without further delay Id like to start the event off with a citizen known for her songs, please welcome Advocate Ast!"
Kitiara turns herself towards Advocate Ast clapping her hands.
 
Ast takes long, though careful steps before lightly leaping onto the stage. She does a single spin with a bow and raises her lyre.
 
Kitiara bows to Advocate Ast and walks off the stage.
 
Ast begins tapping her foot as her fingers pluck out a surprisingly cheery sounding tune, the chords old but catchy and her voice rings out in a brogue that isn't completely Mhunnish and noticeably Mhaldorian, " 'Twas down the cliffs one foggy morn. To the Red Square rode I... With steel and bow 
they passed me by... The soldiers of our Lord!"
 
Ast allows her voice to drop half an octave as she continues singing energetically, her words sharp and sure, "No pipes did hum, no battle drum, As I lift my voice in praise. The bell rings out! Rings out in the Red Fog." Her fingers race across the strings of a bard's lyre and she adds in a few additional notes to help the song hit a deeper tone.
  
"Right proudly high over Mhaldor's gate, They hung out a flag of war. 'Twas better to die in Evil's eye, than riagath or Carme's Tomb!", Ast sings, her feet now taking her across the stage as she has a noticeably pep in her step.

Ast takes a deep breath before continuing the folk song, her voice growing louder and louder, "And from the fields of rocks and grime, The faithful came hurring through. The yells and cries as heathens die, departing through the Red Fog!" Her voice echoes in the sudden silence, though it is slowly filled by a soft tinkle of notes that sound like fresh rain.
 
"The bravest fell, the solemn bell... Rang clear and loud and true..." Ast sings slowly, her voice low and accent thick, "For those who died that year, Again and again the story goes, and the world did gaze with deep amaze."
  
Ast wills her voice to soar, filling the room with clear and full notes, "At those fearless men, but few. Who bore the fight that Evil's might, As we march through the Red Fog." The last note is held, fading into a delicate vibrato, her eyes close for a moment before she lowers her instrument and bows to those in attendance.
 
Holding one hand upright, fingers delicately curled, Orzaansyn offers a decorously quiet round of applause.
 
Ast bows her head slightly in respect to those in the room.
 
Melodie smiles and lends her own applause to Ast.
 
Oren smiles softly, applauding slow and steady.
Kitiara claps her hands together merrily.
 
Saeva applauds Ast with head inclined in show of appreciation.
 
Kepeli claps his hands together merrily.

Ast smiles and says in Mhaldorian in a dutiful yet ardent voice, "Thank you all for listening to my song, 'Red Fog'. Next up we have Apprentice Kitiara, she will be performing a poetry reading for your enjoyment."
 
You applaud Ast heartily.

Taraus joins the applause, flashing Ast an approving smile.

Kitiara walks on stage. She bows to Advocate Ast and thanks her.
  
Ast quickly hops off the stage and bows in Kitiara's general direction as she hurries out of sight.
  
Kitiara turns to the audience.
 
Kitiara says in a cold voice, "Ebony wings unfolds onto nightfalls embrace,."
 
Kitiara says in a cold voice, "While relentless hate seeps into eternal grace."
 
Kitiara says in a cold voice, "Lost in silence for time found past,."
 
Kitiara says in a cold voice, "Far too long, beyond our grasp."
 
Kitiara says in a cold voice, "Moonlight cascades a shadowy glare."

Kitiara says in a cold voice, "This dark carnival of maelstrom I soon to bare."
 
Kitiara says in a cold voice, "Dominion I held oer the Sapience of lost translation,."
  
Kitiara says in a cold voice, "Forth going towards this hybrid stigmata creation."
 
Kitiara says in a cold voice, "The eyes widen as frozen shadows stand still."
 
Kitiara says in a cold voice, "We go forth towards the enemy for blood to spill..."
 
Kitiara bows deeply to the audience.

Kepeli gives up a round of applause.
 
Saeva gives up a round of applause.
 
Herenicus brings his hands together in applause, smiling appreciatively for Kitiara.
 
Holding one hand upright, fingers delicately curled, Orzaansyn offers a decorously quiet round of applause.
 
Kitiara turns towards Advocate Ast.
 
Ast claps for Kitiara with a smile on her face.
 
Kitiara says in a cold voice, "I wanted to say thank you Advocate Ast for the lovely song, it was truly moving."
 
Kitiara says in a cold voice, "Up next, please welcome one of our clerics, Herenicus Coldraven, here to present words from his upcoming treatise-- Rising in the West: An Evil Primer."
Kitiara turns herself towards Dynamis Herenicus clapping her hands.
 
The sudden pop and crackle of flame precedes a shower of glowing embers that burst from a disfigured birch staff.
  
You say in Mhaldorian, "I have asked our host this evening to introduce the Truths of Evil, as we would introduce them to others."
Kitiara says in a cold voice, "Truth One, What is called evil is simply the drive for advancement, for greatness. We seek, through discipline and pain, to spur the advancement of nothing less than sentient life."
  
You say in Mhaldorian, "Mhaldorians are united in more than belief."
  
You say in Mhaldorian, "We hear the challenge roared by a world of boundless potential, answerable by greatness alone!"
 
You say in Mhaldorian, "It speaks to our drive to advance, our will to greatness, a birthright inheritance that must first be wrested from the trembling hands of weakness."
Herenicus stares into the crowd, his eyes bright with fervor.
 
You say in Mhaldorian, "Discipline and Pain form the altar upon which we lay down our lives, upon which we sacrifice only that which is holiest - richer than blood, dearer than gold."
 
You say in Mhaldorian, "Time is the highest currency afforded the living, spent and gone forever. What would you purchase if not greatness? If not a better world?"
 
You say in Mhaldorian, "This better world awaits the worthy: sons and daughters rising to claim this ancient inheritance. For greatness begins as a soundless whisper in a brave heart, a wordless ambition echoing through the generations."
 
You say in Mhaldorian, "Heed well and obey these stirrings, bending knee in knowledge that the laurels of glory are worn with pain, together or not at all."
 
Kitiara says in a cold voice, "Truth two, Cruelty - the application of pain - is the method by which one weeds out the weak and feeble-minded from the population. You apply this truth every time you hunt. You apply this truth every time you tell some idiot to hold his idiot tongue."
 
Herenicus gives Kitiara a thankful nod.

You say flatly in Mhaldorian, "Pain is an inevitability. Greatness is not."

You say in Mhaldorian, "Pain brings us into this world and pain carries us out, some faster than others. The weak and feeble-minded are always the first to flee from pain or despair."

You say clearly in Mhaldorian, "Heretics must be made to understand that comfort and laxity begets a weakened soul, a blight upon the individual and society as a whole. Some unfortunates cannot or will not understand our method until it is too late."

Kitiara says in a cold voice, "Truth Three, Weakness must be eliminated in all its forms. Physical, Mental, and Spiritual."
  
You say in Mhaldorian, "Weakness is a disease, afflicting women and men from birth."
 
You say in Mhaldorian, "It begins in swaddling clothes, hemming every move."
 
You say in Mhaldorian, "Worse still, weakness is infectious, passing from person to person. Forgiving mothers give rise to undisciplined children: the bane of education."
 
You say grimly in Mhaldorian, "Forgiving gods do still more damage."
You say in Mhaldorian, "Weakness spreads! And left unchecked, weakness threatens to overtake individuals and societies, both."
 
You say in Mhaldorian, "Greatness and Strength yield to none but through pain and the vigilance of discipline, self-imposed or otherwise. Where the world refuses to extirpate its weakness, Mhaldor stands ready."
  
Kitiara says in a cold voice, "Truth Four, The enemies of strength are those who trumpet the effeminate values of forgiveness, tolerance, and laxity of discipline."
 
You say derisively in Mhaldorian, "Forgiveness, tolerance, and laxity of discipline are the enemies of strength as they fester into weakness."
  
You say in Mhaldorian, "Forgiveness invites repetition: let error find rebuke and, for the ignorant, instruction. Where you cede to soft Tolerance you awake to Mediocrity. And is there anything so disobedient as an undisciplined mind?"
 
You say in Mhaldorian, "The enemies of strength are enemies to us all."
 
Kitiara says in a cold voice, "Truth Five, The body may be made stronger through combat."
 
You say in Mhaldorian, "Discipline and Pain are the handmaidens to greatness in every capacity - none moreso than combat."

You say in Mhaldorian, "The true soldier is a blade of Evil, strong as though in the hand of Lord Sartan, Himself. Only through the practice of combat will that blade sharpen to its full potential."
 
You say in Mhaldorian, "The LORD honours His instruments according to their worth; where swords come cheap, forging a true Mhaldorian takes years."
  
Kitiara says in a cold voice, "Truth Six, The mind may be made stronger through the elimination of conscience. One does this by inflicting pain on others."
  
You ask in Mhaldorian, "What is hardship if not pain? How are they endured but through discipline?"
 
You say in Mhaldorian, "The hardships we have endured, together and individually, collect as dew in the cool, stillness of reflection. Hardships are as water to the spirit, necessary to growth."
 
You say in Mhaldorian, "The spirits of the spoiled have never tasted hardship; though parched, they know not what they want. And so they chase after frivolity and form, ignoring substance and discipline."
 
You say in Mhaldorian, "A Mhaldorian does not."
 
Herenicus pauses in his speechifying, glancing at his notes in horror.
 
You say awkwardly in Mhaldorian, "Excuse me, that was the notes for Truth Seven."

You exclaim in Mhaldorian, "...but Truth Six!"

The sudden pop and crackle of flame precedes a shower of glowing embers that burst from a disfigured birch staff.
 
Saeva inclines her head politely.
 
You say in Mhaldorian, "Conscience, the niggling voice of pity, grows faint but for the faint-hearted. The Mhaldorian recognizes that life is a cruel and pitiless trial. Is it any wonder then that greatness wants a cruel and pitiless mind?"
 
You say in Mhaldorian, "Decisions must at times be made that should horrify the innocent. Let them be horrified."
 
You say in Mhaldorian, "And let us pray."

Herenicus clenches his fist together, lifting it to the heavens.
 
You exclaim in Mhaldorian, "LORD of Strength, hear us cheer Thy name!"
 
Aegoth lowers his head reverently.

You exclaim in Mhaldorian, "Bless Your weapons as You lift Your mighty voice!"

You exclaim in Mhaldorian, "Cry out with the voice that brooks no argument!"
 
You have emoted: Herenicus' voice rises with the veins in his neck and face.
 
You exclaim in Mhaldorian, "And so the weak shall know despair, so every knee shall bend!"
 
You have emoted: Herenicus lowers his voice and arm, staring solemnly into the darkness above.

You say in Mhaldorian, "Hosannah to the LORD, forever our strength."

You say quietly in Mhaldorian, "Amen."

Herenicus

Orzaansyn says in Mhaldorian in a cold, monotone voice, "Amen."

Kepeli says in a silent, undead voice, "Amen."
 
Melodie says quietly in Mhaldorian with a flowing, cultured accent, "Amen."
 
Saeva Aristata, Purifier says in Mhaldorian, "Amen."

Kitiara says in a cold voice, "Amen."
 
Taraus whispers reverently in Mhaldorian with a throaty, lyrical accent, "Let every thing that hath breath praise HIM. Amen."
 
Herenicus steps off the stage, assuming his place in the crowd.
 
Aegoth I'llur, Advocate of Strength says, "Praise the Lord Sartan!"
 
Kitiara says in a cold voice, "Thank you Dynamis Herenicus for the reading. As always, your work and words of wisdom has inspired us all to continue to grow in Evil."
  
Kitiara says in a cold voice, "Up next, Dominion Aegoth will like to present a sermon for us all."
  
Aegoth offers Zuysheam a callous smirk as he approaches the stage, ascending with a sombre countenance and the soft rustle of his robes.
 
Kitiara bows to Dominion Aegoth and walks off the stage.
 
Ast bows respectfully to you.
 
Flickering shadows dance across Aegoth's face, illuminated by the sputtering blaze housed atop a kindled staff.
 
Aegoth I'llur, Advocate of Strength says, "I stand here to speak to you all of a driving force behind much of the world. It is something we all know, and have impressed upon those we meet."
Aegoth I'llur, Advocate of Strength says, "I speak, of course of fear."
Aegoth lets his crimson gaze burn into each of the participants, his gaze somehow resting longer upon you, in particular.
  
Aegoth I'llur, Advocate of Strength says, "There are many types of fear in the world, some more insidious than others, and every mortal is subject to some type of it. Indeed, it has been said that courage is not the absence of fear but rather the conquering of it."
  
Aegoth I'llur, Advocate of Strength says casually, "Some fear can even be useful. The ability to recognize danger and respond to it is a survival trait after all and is rooted in primal fears."
 
Aegoth fashions a holocaust globe out of pure elemental fire and arms it.
Saeva grunts noncommittally.
 
Saeva moves her huge bulk to the north with surprising grace.

*******************************************************************************
The holocaust globe ominously stops pulsing for a fraction of a second, and then explodes into a 
fiery conflagration that consumes all around it.
*******************************

Aegoth I'llur, Advocate of Strength says, "The worst sort of fear however, is fear of self. Fear of self has no redeeming qualities. Fear of self leads to ignorance, to blindness, to failure. How can one help but to be defeated in life when one cannot stand to face oneself?"

Herenicus' eyes flash with pain and surprise, followed by a slow grin.

Aegoth brushes a few flakes of ash from his sleeve, looking to you all with faint amusement as the residual heat from his holocaust evaporates into the atmosphere.
  
Aegoth I'llur, Advocate of Strength says, "If you cannot look into your own soul and face all the aspects therein, you have chosen to blind yourself as surely as if you'd plucked out your own eyes. This is the worst sort of cowardliness."
  
Aegoth raises his staff, the conflagration within the shaft flaring as he points it imperiously eastward.
 
Aegoth I'llur, Advocate of Strength says, "It is just this very sort of craven mentality that drives the Light-Blinded! They have made a RELIGION of this ignorant fear. Given their actions pretty names to hide their motives from themselves."
 
Aegoth lowers his head, the dim light casting a sinister umbrage upon his countenance.
Aegoth I'llur, Advocate of Strength says darkly, "Brutality cowering behind Justice, Oppression under the guise of Protection, Prejudice masquerading as Compassion and Ignorance using Knowledge as a front."
 
Aegoth I'llur, Advocate of Strength says, "Of all the ridiculous notions, they claim sole dominion over Love! Unconditional love is one of their tenants, yet they cling only to what they already know and understand and shun all else. It is the Master's Chosen alone who understand the true nature of love as a tool for Evil."
 
Aegoth taps the butt of his staff against the floor of the stage, pointedly emphasizing each word as he slowly enunciates.
Melodie quirks an eyebrow, but tilts her head as she listens intently.
 
Aegoth I'llur, Advocate of Strength says, "They lie to themselves as much as the rest of Sapience - all out of fear."
  
Aegoth raises his hands dramatically, poiting towards the crowd with a trembling hand, his eyes afire as he calls out, "They are frightened that if they stop lying, if they look away from their dazzling Light for even a moment, and catch sight of themselves, they'll see that they are no different that those they claim to despise. That all their pretty words and comforting ideals are simply lip service. A thin veneer under which lies a truth they're afraid to see!"
 
Aegoth I'llur, Advocate of Strength says disdainfully, "It is pitiful and sad and it is why we who know the Lord's Truths are superior to the Light-Blinded fools."
 
Aegoth I'llur, Advocate of Strength says, "Where they cower from the thought of Brutality and pretend to be Just, we understand the necessity of it and how best to utilize the violence all mortals are born with. Our Lord Sartan teaches us this Truth."
 
Aegoth I'llur, Advocate of Strength says, "Where they hide from the idea of Oppression and think they only protect those who serve them, we know the righteousness of the weak serving the strong so that the world may prosper. Our Lord Sartan teaches us this Truth."
 
Aegoth slams his staff upon the stage with a loud "CRACK!" as he continues, his voice rising with more zealous fervour as he continues.
 
Aegoth I'llur, Advocate of Strength says loudly, "Where they hide their eyes and minds from knowledge that doesn't fit their twisted world-view, reveling in their ignorance and fear, we understand that knowledge is power and the gaining of it worth any price. Our Lord Sartan teaches us 
this Truth."
 
Aegoth glares upon the puddle of his weird, sending a lash of fire to send the last bits of it into vapour. You hear the soft, almost imperceptible scream of a gurgling water-being somewhere in the air.
  
Aegoth I'llur, Advocate of Strength says, "Where they sneer behind their compassion and mercy and shy away from the thought of pain and suffering, we know that pain can teach us how to live and glory in life. Our Lord Sartan teaches us this Truth."
 
Aegoth I'llur, Advocate of Strength says, "Where they are content to stagnate in outdated ideals, we accept the hunger for more, the drive that leads to success and glory. Only through Suffering can we grow. Our Lord Sartan teaches us this Truth."
 
Aegoth lowers his arms, his voice growing softer as he calmly looks out towards his audience.
Holding one hand upright, fingers delicately curled, Orzaansyn offers a decorously quiet round of applause.

Aegoth I'llur, Advocate of Strength says, "Their Light binds them in fear of the dark unknown - our Truths teaches us to face it and embrace it. This is our glory and our gift from the Lord of Evil. May it always be so."

Aegoth I'llur, Advocate of Strength says, "Amen."
Kitiara says in a cold voice, "Amen."
 
Kitiara walks back on stage clapping.
 
Orzaansyn says in Mhaldorian in a cold, monotone voice, "Amen."
 
Ast solemnly nods.

Herenicus nods his head appreciatively.
 
Aegoth casually steps off the stage, the fabric of his robes billowing dramatically as he exits.
 
Kitiara says in a cold voice, "Thank you Dominion Aegoth for the insightful and dynamic sermon."
 
Kitiara says in a cold voice, "Now, without further ado Id like to introduce our last participant for the night. Please welcome Eminence Orzaansyn to perform a dance, narrated by Herenicus."
 
Kitiara turns herself towards Eminence Orzaansyn clapping her hands.
 
Kepeli bows respectfully to Aegoth.
Orzaansyn stands then goes to the stage, which becomes dark. After a few seconds, it lights again.
  
Kitiara bows to Eminence Orzaansyn and walks off the stage.
  
An ephemeral veil of pale silk obscures the stage as Orzaansyn kneels on the floor behind it. The music starts and she remains still, her face concealed behind a sleeve.
 
You say quietly in Mhaldorian, "A soft, lyrical voice rings out in an ancient Mhaldorian hymn, retelling the story a woman encircled by familiar red mist, her prayers rising into the air like burning incense."
 
The veils sunder at centre stage, and Orzaansyn slowly lowers her sleeve, revealing her face. She watches the audience as her right arm makes a slow horizontal motion, rising to her feet, knees bent as her face turns towards the floor.
  
You say quietly in Mhaldorian, "The singer carries into a verse about a Divine, whose demands are beyond reason, or logic."
 
Orzaansyn breathes slowly, her chest rising and falling as her methodical dance continues, her arms raising and lowering one after the other in graceful gestures even as her head moves not at all. She breathes slowly, her chest rising and falling as her methodical dance continues, her arms raising and lowering one after the other in graceful gestures even as her head moves not at all.
  
You say in Mhaldorian, ""And it is clearly Faith which weighs heavily upon this woman's mind.""
  
Orzaansyn bends on her kneels nearly to the floor, her hands moving in complex curls as her whole body remains still.
 
You say in Mhaldorian, "Continuing in an imagery of water, the lyrics asks the nature of Faith in a floating world."
 
With her left hand raised in a poised position, Orzaansyn lifts her head, and her right hand slowly mimes some waves on the floor.
 
You say quietly in Mhaldorian, "We are told how this woman would ask for her Divine's guidance, but none hears her voice, save the wind in the pines."
Orzaansyn lowers her head, as she bends very slowly on her knees. Her hands are before her chest, facing each other with open palms.
You say quietly in Mhaldorian, "As the woman asks, we are told, there is no answer, save from cold snowflakes falling on her while she prays."
 
Orzaansyn takes a few slow steps, as her face turning left and right, her hands curling into fists as she proceeds.

You say quietly in Mhaldorian, "She listens to a bird's song, while the lyrics now hints this song refers to an old poem from the birth of Mhaldor."

Rising without breath, her chest stilled, Orzaansyn lifts her left hand to her face, and slowly turns in place, giving her back to the audience.

Orzaansyn tells you in Mhaldorian, "The poem reads, "And here I lament. Can this be the whole of life unfold, shall grief lie so heavy?"
 
You say quietly in Mhaldorian, "The poem reads, "And here I lament. Can this be the whole of life unfold, shall grief lie so heavy?"
 
Orzaansyn continues to pirouette and as her left hand falls, her right extends out parallel to the ground, palm to the ceiling. Bending at the waist, her entire figure forms a graceful curve.
You say quietly in Mhaldorian, "The poem continues, "Yet still, as though in reproach, I lift up my tear-stained face."
 
With slow elegance, Orzaansyn lifts her head, dignified and proud. Her arms rise to her face, her long sleeves evoking the tears before she lowers her arms, placing them behind her back.
 
You say quietly in Mhaldorian, "We hear how grim and dreary is the woman's life. Her grief causes her a sudden pain in her chest."
 
Orzaansyn kneels upon the floor, bracing herself with one hand as the other rests over her heart, her head lowered in solemnity.
 
You say quietly in Mhaldorian, "Yet we hear how joyful she feels, when her Divine all of sudden comes to sooth the pain."

Resting her hands on the tops of her thighs, Orzaansyn lifts her head, and gazing as if through the ceiling. She bends herself into a tortured bow, returning to the position.
 
The sweet, heady aroma of burning timber wafts through the air as wisps of smoke drift from a flame-topped staff of kindled birch.
 
You say quietly in Mhaldorian, "He touches her forehead, and with this touch, no words need to be spoken. In silence, they understand each others."
 
Orzaansyn takes her feet in one sinuous motion, yet gazing upwards, sleeves behind her back and eyes closed.
 
You say quietly in Mhaldorian, "The lyrics end on the image of the woman, standing now, as her mind is appeased with the promise of strength."
 
Orzaansyn performs a graceful curtsey towards all those in the room.
 
Herenicus ends his recital, gesturing towards Orzaansyn with a sweep of his arm.
 
You say to Orzaansyn in Mhaldorian, "Thank you for your performance, Eminence."
Aegoth gives up a round of applause.
 
Saibel claps her hands together, nodding with approval.
 
Oren smiles softly, applauding slow and steady.
 
Saeva applauds Orzaansyn heartily.
 
Melodie smiles widely and lends her applause to Orzaansyn enthusiastically.
 
Kepeli gives up a round of applause.

Taraus throws her own into the applause, beaming with admiration.

Orzaansyn thankfully inclines her her to you, then leaves the stage.

Ast congratulates Orzaansyn with some wild clapping.
 
Kitiara walks back on stage clapping.
  
Kitiara says in a cold voice, "Dance is a great way to tell a story. Eminence Orzaansyn was inspirational and her dance was very well done. Thank you Eminence Orzaansyn for spreading Evil through dance."
 
Herose claps softly.
 
Orzaansyn's mouth quirks up into an unsettling smile, which doesn't quite reach her disturbing obsidian eyes.
 
Kitiara says in a cold voice, "Our time has come to an end."
 
Kitiara waves her hand gesturing to the audience.

Kitiara says in a cold voice, "My personal respect and thanks goes out to all of you."
 
Kitiara says in a cold voice, "I also want to thank all the volunteers for participating in this show. I respect the courage it takes to come up here and share your talents. Thank you all for coming and I hope you enjoyed it!"

Tahquil

Ah. I see that awkward Scarlattan showcase the use to be held in Caer Witrin each IG year found a new home.

Herenicus

Apart from scheduling two sermons, I thought it went pretty well. You're never satisfied!

Kitiara

It was my first time

Mishgul

I am told the second time is always the best time.

Aodfionn

That was seriously kick ass by all parties involved. Also, aside from the Selene(?) reference, @Aegoth knocked that dead. Nicely done.

Herenicus

Mishgul said:

I am told the second time is always the best time.

You get to do the weird stuff, I think. I wouldn't know

Mishgul

I will have to get a second opinion from one of my friends that doesn't own a computer.

Amarillys

Xinna

This made me laugh:

http://pastebin.com/uaHve64R

Ast

Xinna said:

This made me laugh:

http://pastebin.com/uaHve64R

Best fat froggy.

Zulah

Was going through old RP logs I had and found one of my favorites, I think it was on the old forums years ago, thought I'd share it. 3 day's long with the names omitted even though it's old.

http://pastebin.com/v7bDKvBQ

Kresslack

A shipmate exclaims, "Pirates, mutineers, and now bloody tritons!"

A shipmate exclaims, "I'm taking my chances with the damned sharks!"

A shipmate wrenches a length of wood from the mangled deck, and leaps overboard,

swimming towards the nearby shore.

Best thing ever.

Ruth

Oho, I remember this Twilight thing. Good stuff.

Tristyn

A brief log of a conversation I had with @Aodfionn that I warranted was adorable enough to record. It's complete with my bullsh*t commentary.

-- Veil's End ----------------- 34:-13:0 ---

The bright sun shines down, blanketing you with its life-giving warmth. A runic totem is planted

solidly in the ground. Spreading its majestic golden wings, a giant eagle searches the ground with

piercing eyes.  Deacon Aodfionn Wintermourne, Sentinel of the Ivory Dawn is riding on a giant eagle.

He wields a Shield of Absorption bearing the city arms of Targossas in his left hand and a vorpal

broadsword in his right.

You see exits leading east and northwest.

You lower your head in a polite bow.

Tristyn gazes about in a confused manner, "I hope I am not disturbing anything?" 

(Oh hey! My angel has been watching you stand here for 15 minutes or so, what'cha doing?)

Aodfionn shakes his head.

Deacon Aodfionn Wintermourne, Sentinel of the Ivory Dawn says, "Not at all."

Deacon Aodfionn Wintermourne, Sentinel of the Ivory Dawn smiles and says, "Simply conducting an experiment."

Tristyn quirks her eyebrows upwards and smiles pleasantly, "An experiment?"

Aodfionn waves his hand dismissively.

Deacon Aodfionn Wintermourne, Sentinel of the Ivory Dawn says, "You'll see if it works."

(Damnit, you're always vague.)

Deacon Aodfionn Wintermourne, Sentinel of the Ivory Dawn says, "Anyway."

You have emoted: Tristyn sucks on her lower lip thoughtfully, "I'm not sure if I like the sound of that."

Aodfionn tells you, "I am acting as bait."

Deacon Aodfionn Wintermourne, Sentinel of the Ivory Dawn says to you, "Your graduation."

You tell Aodfionn, "You should use me instead.."

(Judging by my track record, I could get you a whole army.)

Deacon Aodfionn Wintermourne, Sentinel of the Ivory Dawn says to you, "You are allowed to bring some people from beyond the house into the estate to view it."

You slap your arm in annoyance as a mosquito feeds from you.

You peer about yourself unscrupulously.

(More paranoia. I'm probably typing angel presences at least fifteen times in the first few sentences.)

Deacon Aodfionn Wintermourne, Sentinel of the Ivory Dawn laughingly says, "Not the Mhaldorians, this time, but pretty much whoever else within reason."

Tristyn tilts her head to the side, not looking at anything in particular as she grins.

You say to Aodfionn in a muted voice, "No Mhaldorians. Got it."

You ask impishly in a muted voice, "What about a kitten?"

(I'm going to steal your cat, @Melodie)

The corners of your mouth turn up as you grin mischievously.

Tristyn waves her hand, excusing her joking manner. "Sorry. Too soon."

The corners of Aodfionn's mouth turn up as he grins mischievously.

Deacon Aodfionn Wintermourne, Sentinel of the Ivory Dawn says, "Don't worry, it's never too soon. I was cracking jokes at Halos when he let them in within a day."

You say in a muted voice, "Someone was telling me about that."

You say to Aodfionn in a muted voice, "I was a bit surprised I wasn't the first to make that mistake."

The corners of Aodfionn's mouth turn up as he grins mischievously.

Tristyn eyes her surroundings appraisingly, "Well if you are expecting guests. Should I be standing here?"

(Have you seen me fight? I'd be dead in five minutes tops.)

Aodfionn grunts and presses a finger to his lips, urging you to hush and listen as a very faint, quiet vibrating hum can be heard in the air.

Tristyn pretends to look at an imaginary pocketwatch and folds her arms across her chest.

(A mix between jeopardy theme song and elevator music is playing here.)

Deacon Aodfionn Wintermourne, Sentinel of the Ivory Dawn says, "There's a reason I'm not nervous."

Aodfionn coughs softly.

Deacon Aodfionn Wintermourne, Sentinel of the Ivory Dawn says, "Regardless."

Deacon Aodfionn Wintermourne, Sentinel of the Ivory Dawn says, "Start thinking about graduation."

Deacon Aodfionn Wintermourne, Sentinel of the Ivory Dawn says, "And more importantly, what you want to do afterwards."

Tristyn looks around expectantly before nodding at Aodfionn.

Deacon Aodfionn Wintermourne, Sentinel of the Ivory Dawn says, "Being graduated essentially makes you a leader."

(Ah, damnit. Just what I need. More work. )

Deacon Aodfionn Wintermourne, Sentinel of the Ivory Dawn says, "You will be one of a very, very small group of people who are trained specifically in Their theology and ritual ways."

Deacon Aodfionn Wintermourne, Sentinel of the Ivory Dawn says, "So you will need to inspire and terrify, accordingly."

You say to Aodfionn in a muted voice, "I see, I didn't think of that. I shall direct my thoughts towards that area."

Aodfionn nods his head emphatically.

Tristyn lowers her head briefly in a respectful nod, "I shall leave you to your work. I just wished to see how you were faring."

Aodfionn shakes his head.

Deacon Aodfionn Wintermourne, Sentinel of the Ivory Dawn says, "No need, it's hardly work."

Deacon Aodfionn Wintermourne, Sentinel of the Ivory Dawn says, "You can come out now, you know."

(Wait?! What?!)

Aodfionn peers about himself unscrupulously.

Antidas ripples into existence before you.

Antidas peers at Aodfionn unscrupulously.

Antidas says in a soft voice, "I prefer not coming out, personally."

(Oh hai! Let me just put my heart back into my chest cause you scared the sh*t out of me.)

You have emoted: Tristyn coughs into her hand and bows respectfully to Antidas, "Minister. A pleasure."

Antidas smirks.

Antidas says in a soft voice, "Salutations, Predicant."

(Phew, I haven't died yet.)

Antidas ponders the situation.

Antidas says in a soft voice, "So. You are graduating to what rank within the Harbingers?"

Antidas raises an eyebrow at you.

You have emoted: Tristyn presses her lips together thoughtfully, "HR5."

(Heavens on high, Please let that be good enough.)

Antidas nods his head slightly.

Antidas says in Targossian in a soft voice, "Excellent."

Deacon Aodfionn Wintermourne, Sentinel of the Ivory Dawn says, "She will be the first Targossian to graduate without converting or being a transfer from another house."

Antidas says in Targossian in a soft voice, "I expect to see you take on leadership within the Harbingers when it is possible."

(Not too sure if this is polite gesturing or a command. I'm playing it safe and going for the latter. Don't hurt me.)

Antidas nods his head at Aodfionn.

Tristyn nods her head in response as a faint blush spreads across her complexion.

You say to Aodfionn in a muted voice, "You are too generous."

You say to Aodfionn in a muted voice, "I would expect more to achieve that. The work is quite interesting."

Deacon Aodfionn Wintermourne, Sentinel of the Ivory Dawn says to you, "It is a simple fact - only three have done so, those three being myself, Tesha, and Adalie."

(Damnit, Aodfionn, you're too nice sometimes. Going to make me fangirl.)

Antidas says in Targossian in a soft voice, "I believe the Herald started in the Harbingers as well."

Tristyn shrugs her shoulders as she stuffs her hands into her pockets. She briefly looks off into the distance, "I shall start poking at more then."

(More paranoia and typing angel presences here.)

An appalling keening echoes as a crimson-stained falcon flies in from the ether.

The blade of Aodfionn is a blur as he moves forward, slicing into a crimson-stained falcon.

Aodfionn brutally smashes a Shield of Absorption bearing the city arms of Targossas into a crimson-stained falcon.

Golden feathers glint in the light as a crimson-stained falcon flies out to the ether.

You crease your brow in a frown.

Antidas shakes his head sadly from side to side.

Deacon Aodfionn Wintermourne, Sentinel of the Ivory Dawn frowns and says, "That irresponsible little shit is going to get that poor creature killed."

Tristyn raises her eyebrow quizzically, "Which little shit?"

(There are just so many of them!)

Deacon Aodfionn Wintermourne, Sentinel of the Ivory Dawn says, "[redacted cause I like to tease]."

Your eyes sparkle with amusement.

You say in a muted voice, "He was the one I saw here earlier with [More teasing]?"

Antidas says in Targossian in a soft voice, "Indeed."

Tristyn sighs painfully to herself, looking off into the distance again, "Excuse me, Minister and Deacon. I do need to depart. Do be well."

(Oh look at the time....and the crazy ass bird. I should be going.)

You lower your head in a polite bow.

Melodie

There is no stealing Solii.

She might bring you her kills if she likes you, though.

Kitiara

My first ritual......
 

Kitiara carries a small wooden bowl and removes a sharpened dagger from the deep pockets of her black robe and walks over to a Mhun slave, crouched in a corner dressed in dirty rags.

Kitiara says in a cold voice, “Give me the palm of your hand, slave.”

A dirt smudged face of the mhun slave looks up at Kitiara and shakes his head while crunching himself into a ball as if to try and disappear.

Kitiara lowers her head and stares at the mhun slave in disdain.

Kitiara says snarling in a cold voice, “Disobey me at your peril.”

The mhun slave looks back up at Kitiara quivering as he reaches his hand out to her.

Kitiara gives a half grin of satisfaction.

Kitiara grabs his wrist and with a quick and precise slice, she cuts a deep slit into the slaves’ palm and places the bowl under his hand to collect the dripping blood as it taps and pools against the wood.

Satisfied with the amount of blood collected, Kitiara grabs his other hand and binds them skillfully together with a piece of rope. She yanks hard as the last knot is made.

Kitiara walks across the room dipping her index finger into the blood filled bowl and begins to draw a pentagram on the floor in preparation of what’s to come. The mhun slave turns pale as he watches her movements.

Satisfied with the marking she then walks towards the slave and grabs his dirty garbs to stand him up.

Kitiara aggressively pushes the bound Mhun slave forward in front of her, walking him to the center of the pentagram on the ground. The mhun slave stumbles with each shove. He turns his head around to look at Kitiara, face paled, but then quickly averts his gaze.

Kitiara gives a deranged half smile at the mhun slave.

Kitiara says in a cold voice, “Shall we begin?”

In a panic, the Mhun slave starts shaking his head.

Kitiara says in a cold voice, “Mhaldor, behold a ritual of torture and interrogation techniques!”

The mhun slave gulps.

Kitiara places the corpse of a mhun conjuror in the center of the pentagram. She pins it to the floor by piercing its wrists with daggers from her robe. She then proceeds to slice its belly open, cracking the bones as she widens the wound and starts to scoop out the guts in a bloody pool on the ground. The slave watches in horror.

Kitiara prays ‘We offer this corpse and bind its elemental powers in service to the Lords name!’

Kitiara nods at Dominion Saeva with an expression of readiness.

A deep rumbling sound begins to rise from the ground, the earth trembling under your feet as Saeva begins to chant quietly under her breath.

Saeva thrusts her staff commandingly at the cowering mhun slave and in obedience two jagged earthen spikes lurch forth from the rumbling ground to impale the mhun slave through his shoulders, his feet now hovering helplessly just above the ground.

The mhun winces in pain as sweat drips off his brow.

Kitiara says in a cold voice, “I pray, Lord of Evil, my Lord and Master. Give me the strength to show no mercy and to feel no sympathy in the torturing of this slave. I give myself both mind and body to your will. I seek to grow in strength through inflicting pain unto another.”

Kitiara caresses the cheek of the mhun and slides her hands lightly down under his chin lifting slightly.

Kitiara says in a cold voice, “You will know strength through your suffering.”

In a single, fluid motion, Kitiara uncoils an obsidian-tipped whip and snaps it on the ground in front of the slave. A small smirk crosses her face.

Kitiara paces around the mhun.

Kitiara says in a cold voice, “Pain is a necessity that we must all endure. For Suffering through pain, with the guidance of the Lord, will lead us to Strength.”

Kitiara flicks her wrist skillfully as the tip of the whip hooks deeply into the mhuns’ skin and rips downward as it gets pulled back out. She continues to pace around him lashing at various parts of his body.

Small whimpers escapes the mhuns’ dry mouth.

With each crack of the whip, his skin tears open and his reflex of motion causes a piercing pain in his impaled shoulders.

Blood trickling down his back, soaking his rags that are now falling off.

Kitiara pauses and walks up to the mhun, carefully not to step in the blood on the floor, manically smiling. She removes what was left of his clothing.

Kitiara runs the cold flat part of her dagger along the mhuns chest in a caressing way.

Kitiara lifts the dagger and twirls its sharp point lightly against the ribs on the side of the mhun. She pauses momentarily and ever so slowly she adds more pressure, sinking its sharpened tip between the ribs. She starts twisting the dagger with agonizing care, you can almost hear the splitting of the bones as she twists from side to side.

The mhun slave gasps and lashes his head back as his face cringes with pain. His voice shallow and rasp as he wails. A tear effortlessly rolls down his face.

Kitiara quickly removes the blade and then pushes it into his stomach, this time in fast smooth motion. She slowly cuts down watching the skin break apart like a bursting seam traveling down towards his groin. Conjure illusion Blood flowing from the long stretch of opened skin down his body and onto her hand controlling the dagger.

The mhun, knowing where she is headed with the blade, tightens up, his breathing becomes heavy with panic.

His stomach sucks in as he makes every effort to get his body away from the blade.

Kitiara gives a sinister grin at this.

Kitiara says in a cold voice, “Fear! Fear is our fight or flight primer, what makes us strong or what makes us give up and admit defeat. The struggle to keep fighting or accept the inevitable. Praise the Lord for testing our boundaries and making us strive for greatness through pain and suffering!”

Kitiara edges the blade closer, ripping through the skin heading further down. She removes the dagger a fraction of an inch before slicing the tender area.

A very faint look of relief flashes across the mhuns’ frightened face.

Kitiara grabs the hair of the mhun and sharply pulls back exposing his throat. She jabs with her fists into his throat as he gasps and coughs from the impact. She continues to punch his face across the left side and then the right. A tooth shoots out of his mouth along with a mix of blood and saliva. On the final blow he gasps for air.

Kitiara takes her fingers and prys open the mhuns’ right eye lid. She draws the point of her dagger to the eye and slowly drives it into the soft organ and proceeds further into the socket.

A violent spasm takes over the slaves’ body as he shrieks and screams with all his weakened might.

Blood mixed tears trails down his face and drips off of his chin. Kitiara twirls the blade in the socket.

As she removes the blade, the eye comes with it impaled by the tip of the dagger. With a quick snap of her wrist away from his head, the tendon breaks free.

A flood of emotion overtook her and in the heat of the moment she starts to cackle.

Kitiara says in a cold voice, “We embrace the pain as we progress through our journey in Evil. We embrace the suffering of others as well as ourselves. Praise be unto Him for empowering us to spread his Truths!”

Kitiara holds up the dagger to the mhun.

Kitiara says in a cold voice, “This eye, symbolizes the pain in which you suffer! To embrace it and absorb it will make you stronger. You should rejoice in the pain inflicted upon you as it will make you grow. Learn from this pain, devour it and let it strengthen you!”

Kitiara grabs the mhuns’ jaw and shoves the knife into his mouth, forcing him to eat the eyeball. He gags and sputters blood everywhere. Kitiara winces as the blood hits her face. He soon gives in and embraces the eye and swallows it whole. She removes the blade from his mouth once the eye was devoured and drops the dagger onto the blood pooled floor.

Kitiara says in a cold voice, “Hail Lord Sartan, Master of Suffering and Oppression!”

The mhun slave bobbles his head in disoriented movements.

His breathing is labored and his one eye half-closed while the hole where the other was continues to bleed fiercely. His frail body beaten and bloodied.

The energies in the room dwindle and the earthen spikes disintegrate.

The mhun slave drops to the ground, weakened and unable to lift himself up he passes out.

Kitiara stares at the mhun on the ground. Her pupils widen as they dilate and become seemingly empty as the last flicker of light dies within them.

 

Gamden

Zulah said:

Was going through old RP logs I had and found one of my favorites, I think it was on the old forums years ago, thought I'd share it. 3 day's long with the names omitted even though it's old.

http://pastebin.com/v7bDKvBQ

GREAT LOG!!luv it when devs roleplay with..

I bet Kydin feels like a tit missing that lol..

Exelethril

Kitiara said:

My first ritual......
 

<stuff>

Is this "wonderful" conduct commonplace in the city of Mhaldor?    

Taraza

Exelethril said:

Kitiara said:

My first ritual......
 

<stuff>

Is this "wonderful" conduct commonplace in the city of Mhaldor?    

It was her first ritual. Although really that was more of a torture than really a ritual overall. 

Naturally your first attempts are always rough around the edges with understanding the theologies and involvements of ritualism, tortures, etc. So no overall that is not truly common, but it was not a bad attempt overall for a first ritual/torture..particularly in Mhaldor. 

Is there room for improvement? Yes, there's always room for improvement. 

I'd imagine, just like the rest of us, she'll learn and grow  

Tristyn

I just don't think it is everyone's cup of tea, torture ceremonies. However, I thought it was a nice first start. There are also some good books in game about torture techniques that describe it nicely. Now I haven't written torture 'porn' in years, but I find it is a little less jarring and more readable to audiences if you attempt to make it tasteful. Yes, it is torture, but even that can be beautiful. Also, try and build up to the actual torture itself so your audience stays with you. Nothing says sayonara faster than cutting wrists a second into the performance. Overall, good job, Kitiara.