05-15-2019, 01:06 PM
{maleficar}
My corrupt nature is empty of grace.He was born with a golden heart and eyes unclouded. Justice found a home within him and he nurtured it into a pristine, white-hot fury that always lapped up any darkness it could find. Maleficar licks sins from his fingers only to find that each meal leaves him more ravenous than before. It’s no wonder he’s drawn to the rumbling in the west as Leliana’s maze rises from the ground and the fires sweep across Tephra. He stands on the borders of her kingdom, flames reflecting in his black eyes as he pauses, briefly, to consider his own methods.
And then he runs.
The witch isn’t built for speed and his heavy steps announce his arrival long before he’s visible to most of them but he has no time for stealth or illusions. The fire paints his black body a dark orange as he gathers ash in his mouth, careful to avoid the embers smoldering beneath his hooves. He moves as quickly as he can but the smoke burns his eyes until tears run abundant down his cheeks. The broad-shouldered boy dodges falling branches and dueling monsters in a frenzied zigzag pattern. Finally, Maleficar breaks through the tree line and finds himself at the bank of Tephra’s spring. He spits his mouthful of ash as his tears pour into the little potion. But every good spell requires some measure of sacrifice, he knows, so he lifts his leg to his mouth and bites down.
He bites until he tastes the tang of copper and holds his wound over the ash and tears, letting his blood drip down into the mixture. His teeth grit at the pain and he briefly wonders why this part never gets any easier. But then, it wouldn’t be much of a sacrifice, would it?
He’s quickly satisfied with his blood loss, and so he stomps a hoof into the mix. The moment he crushes his potion, a streak of lightning brightens the sky for a fleeting moment. He can see Castile and Casimira silhouetted against the sky while Leliana’s golden shield dims and brightens according to her strength. A clap of thunder booms overhead and he breathes a slow sigh of relief when the first fat raindrop lands on his face. Within seconds, the clouds darken to match Litotes’ shadows and unleash their storm over Tephra, drenching the warriors and residents alike.
His winter rains are cold and they sting against his skin but he feels a smile spread across his face despite the chill. The wind of his storm pushes his damp forelock from his face as he turns to watch them fight. Maleficar hopes the dragons are grounded by the tumultuous winds but he doesn’t hold his breath on it.
And then he runs.
The witch isn’t built for speed and his heavy steps announce his arrival long before he’s visible to most of them but he has no time for stealth or illusions. The fire paints his black body a dark orange as he gathers ash in his mouth, careful to avoid the embers smoldering beneath his hooves. He moves as quickly as he can but the smoke burns his eyes until tears run abundant down his cheeks. The broad-shouldered boy dodges falling branches and dueling monsters in a frenzied zigzag pattern. Finally, Maleficar breaks through the tree line and finds himself at the bank of Tephra’s spring. He spits his mouthful of ash as his tears pour into the little potion. But every good spell requires some measure of sacrifice, he knows, so he lifts his leg to his mouth and bites down.
He bites until he tastes the tang of copper and holds his wound over the ash and tears, letting his blood drip down into the mixture. His teeth grit at the pain and he briefly wonders why this part never gets any easier. But then, it wouldn’t be much of a sacrifice, would it?
He’s quickly satisfied with his blood loss, and so he stomps a hoof into the mix. The moment he crushes his potion, a streak of lightning brightens the sky for a fleeting moment. He can see Castile and Casimira silhouetted against the sky while Leliana’s golden shield dims and brightens according to her strength. A clap of thunder booms overhead and he breathes a slow sigh of relief when the first fat raindrop lands on his face. Within seconds, the clouds darken to match Litotes’ shadows and unleash their storm over Tephra, drenching the warriors and residents alike.
His winter rains are cold and they sting against his skin but he feels a smile spread across his face despite the chill. The wind of his storm pushes his damp forelock from his face as he turns to watch them fight. Maleficar hopes the dragons are grounded by the tumultuous winds but he doesn’t hold his breath on it.