Cordially Ordered [During TS - PS - WMAT Entry]
Aug 17, 2021 3:52:18 GMT -8
Cayle Pota and Maxine like this
Post by Lilith Nevermore on Aug 17, 2021 3:52:18 GMT -8
“ABSOLUTELY NOT!”
A furious shout, chiming like a silver bell about to crack, shook the peace of a dark forest. Grim crows fled to the skies, screeching in panic. Strange critters skittered into hiding. The fearsome sound came from an eerie manor standing alone in the middle of a suspiciously round clearing. Even the skeletons and other ghouls patrolling the yard were startled. All eyes turned towards the top floor, where one big window burned with golden lantern light.
Inside, flickering candles and wavering lanterns lit a large hall. It was dominated by a massive, wooden table. Mahogany, in fact. Quite nice. On one side sat a council of old women. Their wide-brimmed hats and silken robes declared their profession to everyone around. They were witches, the wisest and wealthiest around. And opposing them sat, or rather now stood, a lonely, pale girl... Dressed in similar robes, she was one of them. Or was supposed to be anyway. But in the imposing situation, she seemed awfully small...
Lilith leaned against the table, having just slammed her palms against it. Taking a deep breath, she steadied her voice. Just in case anyone here hadn’t heard her, she reiterated. “I refuse to join that boorish festival the mortals have the absolute nerve to call the World Martial Arts Tournament.” There. She couldn’t say it clearer than that.
But she had so much more to say still...
Many polite phrases carried a hidden meaning. An especially popular one was... “With all due respect, Grand Elder...” And yes, she did mean it with the full extent of the toxic sarcasm her tone carried, as quickly became evident. “Are you out of your mind? Is this an early sign of dementia?” Rude questions, perhaps, but utterly honest. She couldn’t even fathom why the old goat would even suggest such foolishness. ...Well, actually that wasn’t quite true. In fact, she could fathom exactly one reason. “If this is your deranged idea of a joke, then I do not find it particularly funny.” The wrinkled, old fool did always have a twisted sense of humor...
“You always did have a stunted sense of humor.”
The Grand Elder wore a knowing smile. A mischievous twinkle played in the corner of her squinting eye. To her sides, the four other members nodded in agreement. Stunted sense of humor, most definitely, the murmurs agreed. Her airy tone didn’t quite match the gravity of the situation. “And I am dead serious. In fact, I don’t recall ever giving you a choice. This is an official order, signed by yours truly. See? That’s my name right there.” She pushed a signed and stamped parchment towards the girl.
Lilith gritted her sharp teeth. The grimace tore her composed features further and further. Her hair was beginning to flare, standing up on the ends like flames. Dark and quiet, a threatening growl crept from the depths of her throat. “The Witch Hunts may be forgotten history at this point, but I have no qualms about starting a personal hunt against you.” Around her feet, a circle of frost slowly spread across the floor. There was a deathly chill in the air...
Despite the threatening aura, the jovial elder merely laughed like a silly grandmother. “Oh ho ho ho, my dear, darling girl~” Her wizened features twisted into an inhuman grin. “You wouldn’t survive the attempt.” Her raspy voice was like the lid of a coffing creaking shut. Brief. Decisive. Threatening... The air crackled with magical static, as the two witches glared literal lightning bolts at each other.
Lilith blinked first. With a defeated sigh, she slumped to her chair and tugged the parchment her way. “Tch... Why me? There are hundreds of witches more suitable for this. More interested in this as well.” Her eyes swept the text, desperate to find a loophole or a mistake. There weren’t any. It merely detailed the requirements. She was to join the tournament in the name of the Witch Coven and bring them honor by winning at least one round. And, of course, the fine print mentioned that she had to pay a sponsorship fee of twenty-five thousand all by herself. That alone was a tough task for the orphan who had recently lost everything.
The Grand Elder tapped her wrinkled chin in thought. “Hm, quite true. By all accounts, you are an awful choice for this. A mere child playing pretend.” Did someone leave a tea kettle on the stove...? Oh, never mind, the sound was just Lilith’s blood pressure rising. “And that is precisely why you were chosen.” She pointed her bony finger at the girl, silencing any protest that was brewing. “Every witch goes through the rite of passage, a great challenge, before they are recognized as an adult.” Tradition was one of the great pillars of magic.
Even the surly girl had to admit that much.
Since there were no protests, as the elder had already foreseen, she steepled her fingers idly. “Usually, such things are left until your twenty-first birthday, I’ll grant you that...” A heavy sigh escaped her wrinkled lips. More like a wheeze considering her age. “...But as the last remaining Nevermore, I am afraid you are out of options.” The playful tone and smile died that very moment. “A clan cannot exist without a head. And the head must be an adult. Those are two of the ironclad rules, are they not?” The recent circumstances, while admittedly regrettable, were also irrelevant. They could only bend the rules so far before people started asking awkward questions.
“If you succeed, Clan Nevermore shall be recognized once again. And if you fail...”
“I will not fail.”
Lilith rolled up the parchment and stored it in her sleeve. Slowly she rose from her seat and turned to leave. As she did, she left one last comment hanging in the air. “And when I succeed, I expect you and the rest of the council to uphold your promise.” Failure was not an option. With that, she stepped out of the room.
The Grand Elder cackled at the confident claim. “Heh heh hee~ That’s the spirit~!” She waved the youth farewell. “Go on then, have fun at the tournament~ And bring Granny Beeswax a souvenir, won’t y~?” Her cheery shout was cut short by the door slamming shut.
Next stop... Papaya Islands...
[1057]
A furious shout, chiming like a silver bell about to crack, shook the peace of a dark forest. Grim crows fled to the skies, screeching in panic. Strange critters skittered into hiding. The fearsome sound came from an eerie manor standing alone in the middle of a suspiciously round clearing. Even the skeletons and other ghouls patrolling the yard were startled. All eyes turned towards the top floor, where one big window burned with golden lantern light.
Inside, flickering candles and wavering lanterns lit a large hall. It was dominated by a massive, wooden table. Mahogany, in fact. Quite nice. On one side sat a council of old women. Their wide-brimmed hats and silken robes declared their profession to everyone around. They were witches, the wisest and wealthiest around. And opposing them sat, or rather now stood, a lonely, pale girl... Dressed in similar robes, she was one of them. Or was supposed to be anyway. But in the imposing situation, she seemed awfully small...
Lilith leaned against the table, having just slammed her palms against it. Taking a deep breath, she steadied her voice. Just in case anyone here hadn’t heard her, she reiterated. “I refuse to join that boorish festival the mortals have the absolute nerve to call the World Martial Arts Tournament.” There. She couldn’t say it clearer than that.
But she had so much more to say still...
Many polite phrases carried a hidden meaning. An especially popular one was... “With all due respect, Grand Elder...” And yes, she did mean it with the full extent of the toxic sarcasm her tone carried, as quickly became evident. “Are you out of your mind? Is this an early sign of dementia?” Rude questions, perhaps, but utterly honest. She couldn’t even fathom why the old goat would even suggest such foolishness. ...Well, actually that wasn’t quite true. In fact, she could fathom exactly one reason. “If this is your deranged idea of a joke, then I do not find it particularly funny.” The wrinkled, old fool did always have a twisted sense of humor...
“You always did have a stunted sense of humor.”
The Grand Elder wore a knowing smile. A mischievous twinkle played in the corner of her squinting eye. To her sides, the four other members nodded in agreement. Stunted sense of humor, most definitely, the murmurs agreed. Her airy tone didn’t quite match the gravity of the situation. “And I am dead serious. In fact, I don’t recall ever giving you a choice. This is an official order, signed by yours truly. See? That’s my name right there.” She pushed a signed and stamped parchment towards the girl.
Lilith gritted her sharp teeth. The grimace tore her composed features further and further. Her hair was beginning to flare, standing up on the ends like flames. Dark and quiet, a threatening growl crept from the depths of her throat. “The Witch Hunts may be forgotten history at this point, but I have no qualms about starting a personal hunt against you.” Around her feet, a circle of frost slowly spread across the floor. There was a deathly chill in the air...
Despite the threatening aura, the jovial elder merely laughed like a silly grandmother. “Oh ho ho ho, my dear, darling girl~” Her wizened features twisted into an inhuman grin. “You wouldn’t survive the attempt.” Her raspy voice was like the lid of a coffing creaking shut. Brief. Decisive. Threatening... The air crackled with magical static, as the two witches glared literal lightning bolts at each other.
Lilith blinked first. With a defeated sigh, she slumped to her chair and tugged the parchment her way. “Tch... Why me? There are hundreds of witches more suitable for this. More interested in this as well.” Her eyes swept the text, desperate to find a loophole or a mistake. There weren’t any. It merely detailed the requirements. She was to join the tournament in the name of the Witch Coven and bring them honor by winning at least one round. And, of course, the fine print mentioned that she had to pay a sponsorship fee of twenty-five thousand all by herself. That alone was a tough task for the orphan who had recently lost everything.
The Grand Elder tapped her wrinkled chin in thought. “Hm, quite true. By all accounts, you are an awful choice for this. A mere child playing pretend.” Did someone leave a tea kettle on the stove...? Oh, never mind, the sound was just Lilith’s blood pressure rising. “And that is precisely why you were chosen.” She pointed her bony finger at the girl, silencing any protest that was brewing. “Every witch goes through the rite of passage, a great challenge, before they are recognized as an adult.” Tradition was one of the great pillars of magic.
Even the surly girl had to admit that much.
Since there were no protests, as the elder had already foreseen, she steepled her fingers idly. “Usually, such things are left until your twenty-first birthday, I’ll grant you that...” A heavy sigh escaped her wrinkled lips. More like a wheeze considering her age. “...But as the last remaining Nevermore, I am afraid you are out of options.” The playful tone and smile died that very moment. “A clan cannot exist without a head. And the head must be an adult. Those are two of the ironclad rules, are they not?” The recent circumstances, while admittedly regrettable, were also irrelevant. They could only bend the rules so far before people started asking awkward questions.
“If you succeed, Clan Nevermore shall be recognized once again. And if you fail...”
“I will not fail.”
Lilith rolled up the parchment and stored it in her sleeve. Slowly she rose from her seat and turned to leave. As she did, she left one last comment hanging in the air. “And when I succeed, I expect you and the rest of the council to uphold your promise.” Failure was not an option. With that, she stepped out of the room.
The Grand Elder cackled at the confident claim. “Heh heh hee~ That’s the spirit~!” She waved the youth farewell. “Go on then, have fun at the tournament~ And bring Granny Beeswax a souvenir, won’t y~?” Her cheery shout was cut short by the door slamming shut.
Next stop... Papaya Islands...
[1057]