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Post by Hebihime on Nov 14, 2019 3:42:42 GMT -8
South City was a bustling seaside metropolis that rested on the laurels of a natural harbor on the southern face of Anembo Island. With its tropical climate, lush jungle rain forests, and bustling nightlife, the island had everything a tourist could ever desire. Tourism was the island's largest industry, and pristine beaches, boardwalks, and sprawling hotels dotted South City's coastline. This thriving industry naturally attracted many enthusiastic entrepreneurs, not all of them as reputable as others. Tourist traps were common place, selling overpriced goods and downright fake merchandise designed to swindle gullible travelers out of their hard earned zeni. One such establishment was the eponymously named "Ye Olde Magicks Shoppe." Sitting on prime real estate along the city's bustling downtown market district, the venue had a facade that combined the worst aspects of a medieval castle and a martial arts dojo, giving it the kind of fusion of architecture that only a young child's imagination could concoct. Worse still, the outside was plastered in large, obnoxious neon signs with brightly lit phrases like 'SALE!', 'MAGIC!', 'WITCHCRAFT!' and one oddity that simply said 'STUFF!'. There was certainly plenty of stuff inside, as the shop was crammed to the gills in merchandise. Bookshelves so full the extras were stacked in lazy towers of dusty old tomes. Crystal balls heaped in pyramid formations sitting atop oversized cauldrons. Broomsticks by the barrel, supposed jugs of sacred water, potions of every color and smell. Enough magical surplus to start a wizarding school for wayward children. Except for one simple caveat. Everything at the Ye Olde Magicks Shoppe was fake. Not just fake, oppressively fake. The kind of cheap plastic garbage that still had a price tag on it. Half the items, when flipped over and inspected, had 'Made in Central City' stamped on the bottom. The pricier goods were quality forgeries, overpriced duplicates of duplicates of real items likely sitting in a sorcerer's lair at this very moment. There were cursed swords, cursed blades, cursed books, books on removing curses, even cursed scented accent candles. Truly, if anyone needed a cursed anniversary gift for their witchey wife, they could find it here. The owner was an overweight, balding, middle aged man by the name of Dorobō Nise. He dressed in a martial arts gi that may have fit properly twenty years ago, with a rather large, and very over-engineered sword tucked into the sash at his waist. The weapon was a menagerie of unnecessary spikes and blades that looked like it'd break in half if it ever struck anything half way sturdy. Truly, this was a peak specimen of a man. Dorobō was a special kind of swindler, a man so wrapped up in lies that he had come to fully believe his own routine. Originally a fast talking merchant with a warehouses' worth of excess Halloween apparel, Dorobō's wild story telling in order to sell off his junk had evolved into a complicated web of magical and supernatural conspiracy theories that proclaimed the universe existed in a giant glass marble, lorded over by a childlike god who held tournaments between lesser gods for his amusement, destroying entire realities he didn't agree with. A true nutjob, Dorobō would construct elaborate stories on the fly to try and pawn off any item his customers seemed even remotely curious in. It seemed absolutely everything in his shop was once owned by a king, or a warlord, or a demon, or a witch, or a sorcerer, or a warlord sorcerer demon king. The only way to find out for sure was to eyeball the price tag and wait for the owner to come running over. Hebihime Manda was in South City tracking an actual relic of great magical power. A crystal ball once owned by the powerful witch known as Fortuneteller Baba. Unfortunately, it's current owner was a powerful martial artist who had left the demon's pride as wounded as her body. Still quite sore and recovering from her injuries, Hebihime had gorged herself on drunken tourists in the dead of night and was content to spend the day recuperating from her wounds. She decided perhaps it was best to look elsewhere in this blasted city for any objects of potential mystic power. Her inquiry led her to the Ye Olde Magicka Shoppe, and she was already extremely off put by the venue. It smelled of sunblock, body odor, and dust. Its primary visitors being the beach going tourists the congregated only blocks away. Still, it was her most promising lead within the city. Though the serpent woman had a keen sense for magic, she could only detect the arcane energy when it was physically present. Many magical items went dormant and inert after long periods of time. Their power hidden away as they became lost to the sands of time. Only when they were awakened anew did the thrum of their mystic power spill forth. So even if the store proved to be primarily fakes and trinkets, it was possible there were genuine objects of magic hiding among the more expensive collector goods. And for that, Hebihime had decided the store was worth at least a cursory look inside. She wandered into the shop, immediately off put by the clientele. Mostly humans, and mostly overweight sun burnt humans at that. Her disgust was visible, and she lowered the brim off her cobra hood hat to better hide her eyes. The store was a big place, and she had a lot of potential garbage to sift through for any diamonds in the rough. She wouldn't let some sunburned tourists deter her from that goal.
Word Count: 940 | Lilith Nevermore
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Post by Lilith Nevermore on Nov 15, 2019 9:00:27 GMT -8
In a sea of colorful aloha shirts and sun hats, a dark little dot slowly shuffled along. A closer look revealed a young lady, frail and deathly pale. Mauve hair framed delicate features. Long, dark robes swept the pavement with each step. A wide-brimmed hat cast a grim shadow over her grumpy visage. She clutched a pitch-black tome against her chest, while a simple metal wand hung from the sash at her hip. Yep, she was definitely a witch. A wicked one too, even if she seemed a bit young to be called that. Her crimson gaze swept the smiling masses and a toxic little mutter dripped from her lips. “Bloody tourists...”The more time Lilith spend in this forsaken region, the more she had grown to despise its inhabitants. And its visitors too. In an ongoing series of shameful failures, she found her plan to wring some wealth out of a foolish panda had ultimately failed. How and why admittedly escaped her... Perhaps that cut the deepest. The fact that there was still so much beyond her understanding. She had liked to think that it was all inconsequential, but now... Her money pouch was empty and having to hypnotize shopkeepers for meager meals was humiliating. Perhaps she should just head back home and devise a new plan... Fortunately, the brooding could be set aside when something new caught the young noblewoman’s attention. A horrendously mismatched shop had hogged a large space between other questionable businesses. She quirked a skeptical brow. Glowing signs whispered -or screamed more like- sweet promises. With honestly no better leads, she stepped inside... And nearly immediately regretted it. Not only was the stench unbearable, the so called wares were clearly junk. The crystal balls were cheap glass, the potions might as well have been colored water and none of the brooms had been enchanted. She couldn’t feel even a spark of magic from the so-called goods lining the shelves. What kind of amateur was running this shop? However, something in this pitiful sham stood out to the witch. Her refined senses could pick up with mortals missed. This... peculiar sensation... It rolled across the floor like pitch-black miasma and lingered in the air as a deathly chill. She had not felt dark power this pure since her great-great-great-grandmother had summoned a demon prince. Of course it would be ridiculous to think such a rare creature would just strut around in broad daylight. No, an artifact of great power had to be here... Somewhere... Sharpening her senses, she started methodically searching through the shelves. No, no, trash, no, most certainly not... As the little lady strutted along, she slowly approached the source. Before she could reach it though, an obstacle suddenly appeared in her way. A pudgy, sunburned man in a shirt two sizes small smiled and pointed at her. “Hey look, it’s a witch. Hu hu, I knew this place was the real deal.” She recoiled, bringing a hand to her nose. Eugh, he smelled like a warthog. “Begone, peasant, or I shall inflict a hundred years of suffering upon your entire bloodline.” Her voice chimed like a silver bell. Calm, clear and oh so deathly cold. After a tense pause, the tourist chuckled and dug out a camera from his fanny pack. “Hu hu, nice one. Okay, say cheese~!” The crimson glare twitched. It felt like the temperature suddenly dropped several degrees... [571/571] Hebihime
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Post by Hebihime on Nov 15, 2019 18:22:03 GMT -8
Hebihime had spent approximately forty seven seconds in Ye Olde Magicks Shoppe, and already she sorely wished to transform into her True Form and destroy this place in a bloodthirsty rampage. The first thing she'd inspected was a '100% Genuine Crystal Ball' that was cheap window glass, not even actual crystal and certainly containing absolutely none of the prerequisite incantations. The tomes and grimoires stacked on the bookshelves, most were reproductions of forgeries she herself knew actual witches disseminated among the non-magical community to throw them off the scent of real arcane knowledge. "Honey look at me, I look just like a witch." A doughy middle aged woman said as she modeled a cheap knockoff of a witch's hat for her husband. The couple shared a laugh that made Hebihime nearly gag. "Check out this sword mom. A demon knight used to use it!" A young child said, swinging a ruby blade with a black pommel. "Put that back honey, it's 80,000 zeni... and probably an antique?" The boy's mother said, looking apprehensive as she took the weapon from her son and carefully stowed it back into its display case. As if Dabura the Demon King himself would leap out of the weapon and cut her to ribbons for defiling the blade. The serpent woman just sighed, keeping her head down hoping none of these imbeciles bothered to talk to her. Why should they? Her attire was nothing out of the ordinary, and at a glance she was just another window shopper. Hebihime made her way to the counter, greeted by the stench of the overweight owner. He smelled of energy drinks and snacks made primarily of preservatives. "What can I help you with Miss? See anything that catches the eye of a lovely young lady" Hebihime wanted to roll her eyes and gag, but she played up the part. Leaning over the counter letting her violet gaze meet the owner's. "Well, since you asked so nicely. I happened to be a bit of a collector. Tell me, what do you have for rare collectibles. Anything truly unique you might be willing to part ways with?" As she spoke the woman battered her long eyelashes, playing up the part of doe eyed and very interested in the merchant. He took to the bait quickly. "W-w-why Yes! Yes I do. Here one moment!" The man said, heading behind a door into the backroom and returning with a small box. He opened it open, revealing an amber orb with four black stars along it in a square pattern. A perfect replica of the four star Dragonball itself. "It's an ancient luck egg made by a wish granting Dragon. If you take it and say the magic words the dragon will appear and grant you four wishes!" The man said, sounding extremely impressed with himself. "I see." Hemihibe said, eyeing the gemstone. She knew well enough the actual Dragonballs had been destroyed centuries prior to her arrival on Earth. And she knew Piccolo Daimao had a fairly large cache of the shards of the actual ones. This was but a cheap impersonation. "That is quite the tale. So what are the magic words then?" She asked sweetly. "Nobody knows!" The owner said, waving his hand trying to appear ominous. "They were lost to the ages long ago, leaving the Lucky Four Star Egg powerless until they are rediscovered." "How unfortunate!" Hebihime said, feigning surprise. "But as great as this would look on a mantle. Do you have anything bigger... like a weapon perhaps?" She was fast growing tired of this fool. "I do, be right back this one will really blow you away!" The owner said, tucking away his fake Dragonball and going into the back of the store once more. He returned with a large sword, which he seemed to struggle to carry. The weapon was styled like a jian, with a blood red blade and a silver hilt. It had a spiked hilt and a handle that reminded Hebihime of the clubs the ogres in Hell used. "Now, THIS!" The owner said, huffing and puffing as he set the weapon carefully on the table. "This is a sword wielded by a powerful demon that escaped Hell and had to be defeated by two golden warriors putting aside their differences and combining their power." Hebihime rubbed at her chin, inspected the weapon. It did seem suitably demonic. "Impressive. How did it come into your possession?" She asked simply, sensing no hint of magical power or lingering demonic magic on the blade. "I bought it from a traveling monk, who was the guardian of the blade and a distant descendant of the golden warriors. It took quite a bit of bargaining but I eventually haggled him down on the price." The man puffed out his chest and looked extremely proud at his shrewd business making. "Another incredible story!" She said, feigning continued enthusiasm. "Do you mind if I hold it for a bit? See what it feels like to hold a demon's sword?" Hebihime gave the owner the biggest set of puppy dog eyes, which he quickly fell for. "Well sure I don't see why not. I warn you Miss its very..." The man fell silent, as the serpent woman grabbed the blade by the hilt and deftly swung it through the air in several arcing slashes like it weighed nothing. "...heavy." He seemed dumbfounded she could swing it with such easy. Hebihime's expression grew sullen, the blade was clumsy in her hands. It was all sorts off unbalanced, the craftsmanship poor and the edge dull. This was no demon blade, this was a cheap imitation sold to a gullible fool with more time than sense. She set the weapon back down, trying to hide the disgust on her face. "It's a Hell of a weapon, that's for sure." Hebihime said the pun mostly because she had a solid excuse to. The owner nodded in agreement. "So are you interested Ma'am?" He asked eagerly, the zeni symbols almost visible in his eyes. "Maybe, what's the price?" The woman asked, though she had neither money nor any intention of paying for such a cheap bauble. "800,000 zeni... though for a pretty face like yourself, I could part ways for 750,000z." The owner gave her a wink, trying to come off as suave. "How generous of you darling. You're such a charmer. Although, if you could, give me a minute to think it over. I want to go... see how the other swords you have stack up first." Hebihime said sweetly, playing into his 'charms' before excusing herself from the counter. "Take your time ma'am, you'll find nothing compares to Rakshasa's Claw" He called out to her, before quickly becoming distracted with another customer. Hebihime was already walking away as briskly as she could without making a scene. She was about to leave, when she stopped in her tracks. She sensed something, something she'd been so distracted by with the owner she'd missed it. Evil ki, the kind only produced by someone with both a considerable power level and a heart bathed in darkness. Hebihime twirled on the balls of her feet, her tail nearly smacking an inattentive child in the face as she spun around. "Sorry lady." The young boy said, rubbing a hand to the back of his head. "You should be." Hebihime retorted back, having no patience for children. She made her way deeper into the store, chasing after the intoxicating sensation of the malevolent ki. When she found it, Hebihime paused in her tracks. 'It couldn't be, could it?' She told herself, laying eyes on a petite young girl dressed as a witch. Pale complexion, long mauve hair, and a mouth full of sharp teeth when she insulted the fat faced tourists eagerly taking photographs with her like some kind of street performer. The girl was the bared a striking image of Morgana Nevermore, a powerful witch that had died many centuries ago. In life, Morgana had been a demonic sorceress feared throughout the known world. In death, she had remained a matriarchal figure among the dead of her clan, and a motherly figure to the young Hebihime during her formative years in Hell. Morgana had taught her some of her first hexes and invocations, as well as a good part of her knowledge of the magical history of Earth. Hebihime knew witches to have strong bloodlines, their traits appearing heavily in their descendants. But, it still seemed like improbably odds. And yet, all the pieces fit. The distinctive look, the evil ki, the utter disgust at seemingly everything around her, even her voice was similar to that of Morgana. Hebihime had to confirm her suspicions at once. The serpent woman stepped forward, gently shoving the irksome tourists out of the way with her tail. "Hey what's the big deal lady?" The husband asked, his fun clearly spoiled by the 'rude' gesture. Hebihime shot him a dagger glare, any mask of compassion or sweetness gone from her voice. "Lady Nevermore here is quite through dealing with guests. Go bother someone else." She spoke with added emphasis on the name, getting her point well across. "Jeez alright, chill out lady!" The man said, taking his wife by the arm and stomping off in a huff. It would not be the last the two had seen of them. Hebihime watched them as they waddled away, letting out a sigh. Her gaze then wandered down to the petite witch, studying her keenly with her violet gaze. Trying to read her expression, and she how she would react the old Nevermore clan name.
Word Count: 1,620 | Total Word Count: 2,560 | Lilith Nevermore
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Post by Lilith Nevermore on Nov 16, 2019 10:23:07 GMT -8
Sometimes, Lady Luck had a plan. Or maybe just a strange sense of humor. Either way, it decided to intervene before a tactless tourist got turned into a human popsicle. Lilith was stopped from muttering a chilling spell when a sunkissed woman stepped up and shoved the fat nuisance away with her... tail? The crimson eyes blinked, unsure if they saw that right. Questions crept through the girl’s mind. Who and why were the most prominent ones. Fortunately for everyone involved, her desire to freeze somebody was vastly outweighed by her curiosity. She had seen all manner of beastmen, but a reptilian woman? One who looked so very human? Unusual. However, the questions were briefly forgotten when the noblewoman heard her family name spoken with the amount of respect it deserved. She puffed her petite chest proudly and held her head high. A smug, little smile visited her lips. It had been far too long, years in fact, since she had last been recognized. Her chiming voice added to the command. “Indeed. Flee before I change my mind.” The vague threat was accompanied by shooing wave of hand. She had far better things to do than to toy with the common rabble. All those suppressed questions flooded her mind again. With the irritating peasants out of the way, the witch shifted her gaze onto the stranger. Violet met crimson, each trying to read the other. “It is rare...” She broke the silence calmly. Carefully. “...to hear my family name spoken without fear.” Or contempt for that matter. Sadly. “I am Lilith, the heir of the Nevermore clan. To whom do I owe the pleasure?” While she didn’t recognize the mysterious woman, it cost her nothing to be polite. Offending a fellow sorceress would have been embarrassing. Although... No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t recall anyone like her from family gatherings or the annual mass. And she most certainly wouldn’t forget. The little lady gave the stranger a moment to answer the first and perhaps the most important question. Her gaze still studied the woman closely, taking note of her peculiar traits. Especially the hat shaped like a cobra’s hood and the long tail matching the theme... While having an animal motif was quite common among sorceresses, the tail seemed much too real to be mere clothing. More importantly... She practically radiated wicked power. It lingered around her like thick haze, visible only to those with supernatural senses. Such pure, demonic power had to be... from some manner of cursed item. Freshly cursed too. A serpent spell perhaps? It would explain her form and how she was not bothered by it. Putting her pondering into words, she voiced another question. “You... wield dark power, don’t you?”[463/1034] Hebihime
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Post by Hebihime on Nov 16, 2019 11:10:49 GMT -8
Hebihime scoffed as the doughy tourists ran off, easily intimidated and too complacent in their own mundane lives to ever stand up for themselves. Idiots. Her gaze turned to the little witch, who took the opportunity to get in the last word. It was a simple but petty gesture that made Hebihime smile smugly at the display. She took this opportunity to study the possible Nevermore girl up close. Her complexion was almost unnaturally pale, with only a hint of color in her blush to compensate. Crimson eyes betrayed the fact she was no ordinary human, a telltale sign of a pure blooded witch. The large grimoire clutched under one arm bore the Nevermore family crest, meaning she was either highly committed to the act, had killed a Nevermore and stolen their identity, or was the genuine article. Given her evil ki, Hebihime's opinion shifted firmly to the latter. The young woman caught her stare, eyes meeting as she looked up at the serpentine woman. "It is just as rare..." Hebihime said back softly, "To find a Nevermore wandering among the common rabble. Especially this far to the south." She mimicked the tone of Lilith's question, her long tail slowly swinging behind her in obvious excitement. It seemed perhaps that, the only source of rare magic in this wretched store was a fellow mage. Not some ancient relic or arcane artifact. "There are those of us who lurk in the dark crevices of history, who do not fear the coven of witches." Hebihime added, her words dripping with malice as a fanged smile crept across her lips. "And there are fewer still, who would consider them welcome allies..." She made no direct references to Morgana... yet. Only that she was no enemy of the clan Nevermore. "Lilith... heiress of the Clan Nevermore..." Hebihime repeated slowly, letting the words roll off her forked tongue as if tasting how they felt in her mouth. "I see... And I am Hebihime Manda, the Serpent Sorceress." She gave a brief curtsy, grabbing the hem of her skirt as she did. It was rude to be impolite, Hebihime may be a centuries old demonic serpent deity, but that was no excuse for forsaking common courtesy when dealing with someone she actually help a glimmer of appreciation for. As she stood back upright her, the woman's eyes practically shimmered with indigo light. When Lilith asked if Hebihime wielded dark power, the woman only smiled wickedly in return. Displaying gleaming white fangs like hypodermic needles in her mouth. Where a normal human's canines were she had a serpent's fangs, dripping with a violet ichor of her other worldly venom. "And you, you can sense it... can't you Nevermore?" She said almost lustfully, her tail thumping once against the ground. Though she had not directly answered the question, she had not dismissed it either. "We should talk further. Someplace... more befitting, and secluded." The sorceress said in hushed tones. This thrift store was no place was such a conversation between dark magic users. Hebihime was so caught up in this enthralling conversation, she completely ignored the world around her. Behind her the two tourists were returning, looking quite upset. Shopping bags in hand, the wife pointed angrily at the two wicked women and muttered something illegible from this distance. Her husband was puffing out his chest and sucking in his gut, trying to look as macho as a fast food diet would allow. And the store owner was with them, huffing and puffing as he lugged the heavy 'demon blade' with him. These two had been ratted out as offending his other customers, and he was still dead set on seeing if Hebihime actually had any notion to buy the ancient demonic weapon or if he'd have to use it to scare her and her little friend out of his shop when he kicked them out.
Word Count: 660 | Total Word Count: 3,220 | Lilith Nevermore
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Post by Lilith Nevermore on Nov 17, 2019 5:55:19 GMT -8
Lilith directed a suspicious squint at the woman. Not only did this stranger know the name of Nevermore, evidently she knew about their habits too. Only her relatives and close family friends would know such facts, yet she had no recollection of this person. Not even from the diaries she had read over the years. She was half-tempted to open the Tome of Nevermore and ask for the truth. The sacred family tome knew all her family had ever known. Before she could check, however, her attention was drawn to the swaying motion. The tail... wiggled. Definitely not a simple fashion accessory. Her gaze narrowed further. Quite suspicious indeed. One surprise after another... Having allies was rare for witches, especially ones considered wicked. So hearing the woman slyly reveal her alliance was unexpected. The little lady returned a polite smile. “Charmed, Lady Manda.” Beneath the mask, she was still puzzled however. She had never heard of a Serpent Sorceress by the name of Hebihime. Rather, the only rumors she recalled from past centuries told of... Hm... “Indeed I can. It takes one to know one.” To her that was about as good as openly admitting it. There was no confusion in those shimmering eyes, no puzzlement over the term. No... This strange woman knew exactly what she meant by dark power. Finding a more secluded spot for a chat might give her the answers she craved... “Ah-hem.”Much to Lilith’s immediate annoyance, her line of thought was cut short by some uncouth cough. Or was that supposed to be someone clearing their throat? She shifted her gaze towards the sound, only to find that same tub of lard ogling at her. Puffing and posturing like a mindless monkey. Worse yet, he had his worthless wife and the apparent owner of this sham in tow. Her nose wrinkled. “What do you peasants want now? Can you not see that we are busy?” The frigid comment was met with a gasp from the upset wife. Why I never, she huffed beneath her breath. However, the husband decided he wouldn’t have that kind of attitude. Stepping closer, he leaned to loom over the short sorceress. “Now you listen here lil’ girl. Ah am Manny Woodward from North-” His introduction was interrupted by a sharp poke. A wand with prongs resembling horns dug painfully into his chin. It forced him back with a yelp. Before he could voice what were no doubt some unsavory protests, a chilling question slithered across the air. “And just who are you calling a little girl...?” The wand trembled as the girl’s grip tightened. Her icy glare stared deep into the man’s soul. He just gasped like a fish on open land, as if the words had gotten stuck in his throat. Meanwhile, the shopkeeper shifted around like he was dying to say something, but needed to gather courage first. Or he had an itch he couldn’t quite scratch... Hard to say... [498/1532] Hebihime
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Post by Hebihime on Nov 17, 2019 19:36:39 GMT -8
Hebihime matched young witch's probing stare with a coy smile. She had made her assessment as to this Lilith's validity as both a witch and a Nevermore, though the witch it seemed was still perplexed by the nature of the stranger that new so much of her kind's 'secret' occult nature. "As well you should be, Lady Nevermore." Hebihime said sweetly back to the witch, enjoying her polite modesty. It was a refreshing change of pace from the normally slack jawed Earthlings who either seemed to get lost in her disguised form's beauty, or immediately challenge her to a fight. Hebihime simply nodded when Lilith replied to her veiled statement. "I'm glad you see the world as few others do. Though you remain blind to a great many truths." She did so enjoy being cryptic with the little witch. Watching the gears turning in her head as she struggled to put two and two together. Poor girl, she had no way to know Hebihime was playing with a loaded deck. Only the sound of the two stooges interrupting them snapped Hebihime out of her conversation. She spun about on her heels, looking irritably at the owner and the couple that had been sent on their way a moment ago. Lilith certainly snapped into a hostile disposition. Such a feisty child, Hebihime couldn't help but chuckle as she jabbed her wand into the fat man's neck and shot back her prim and proper little retorts. Like an uppity princess berating the castle staff. Wasn't she just a treat? The shopkeeper in turn, clutched his 'demon blade' tight, trying to work up the nerve to confront the two women. He took a deep breath, puffing out his chest as he stepped forward, pushing Lilith's wand out of the man's face. "Now listen here Miss, I'm going to have to ask you to leave at once. You're harassing my customers!" As he spoke he pointed the sword accusingly at Lilith, tip aimed at her hat. Hebihime took a step forward, smiling the whole time as her tail slowly coiled around the shopkeeper's blade. "And how exactly do you go about enforcing that decisions? Lady Nevermore here happens to be the heiress of the most prestigious clan of witches in their entire coven." The serpent woman leaned in closer, and the man took a hesitant step back. "I have no doubt she knows dark arts well beyond her years."The man was sweating profusely now, as much as he believed his own crackpot theories he also believed damn near anything he was told. Whereas the two tourists seemed hesitant to believe what they'd heard, the owner was lapping up every word of it. Not that it was an empty boast, even if Lilith knew but a single simple hex or incantation... it put her leagues ahead of this rabble. "I... I'll use Rakshasha's Claw!" The man said, gripping his blade tighter. "I'll invoke its demonic power and drive you both out of my shop!" He seemed to believe his own story, confidence rising in his voice. "Oh my!" Hebihime said, feigning surprise. "Whatever will I do." She gave a wicked grin, as her tail clenched hard and snapped the cheap blade in two. The upper half of the blade falling with a clatter to the ground, bouncing once on the wooden floor before laying still. No foul magic spilled forth, no trapped soul was released, no demonic retribution befall the arrogant woman. "Oops..." Hebihime said in an utterly unapologetic voice as she flicked her forked tongue in the man's face. "Seems you'll have to invoke half of Rakshasha's Claw." She withdrew her tail with whip-like speed as she let out a wicked bout of laughter. "A cheap trinket, made with cheaper steel, sold to a gullible fool by a lying conman."
Word Count: 645 | Total Word Count: 3,865 | Lilith Nevermore
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Post by Lilith Nevermore on Nov 18, 2019 7:47:02 GMT -8
When the lousy shopkeeper dared to raise a weapon, the short witch immediately snapped back. “That is Lady Nevermore to you, peasant.” A small, but important distinction. However, before she could curse the man into a frog or something equally fitting, the mysterious woman saved his life. ...Well, indirectly. The sweet flattery was like honey to her senses. Slowly the cold pout melted into a smug smile. She even let out a pleased hum when the serpent sorceress spoke on her behalf. “Ho hum~ But of course. Age matters not to a prodigy.” She was indeed very proud of her talents. Upon hearing the sweaty pig utter the name of the blade, the young noble lost her smile. She shifted her unamused stare between the man and his weapon. That was the famous Rakshasha's Claw...? The legendary sword wielded by a fearsome demon...? She couldn’t feel even a hint of demonic power from it. But then again, her senses could be dulled from the pure and powerful source right next to her... Even the tiniest doubts were dispelled when Hebihime easily snapped the blade in half. “Oh.” The reveal was flat and blunt, like a bop from a paper fan. Then again, she wasn't quite sure what she had even expected. While her companion laughed, she instead let out a tired sigh. “I do believe this is quite enough of this sad charade...” The air became charged with arcane power. “Bear witness to true magic.”Lilith brandished her wand and recited an incantation. “From Hell’s heart I summon thee...” Sparks fell to the floor, burning an infernal symbol onto the boards. “Come forth, cursed wanderer, Stingy Jack.” In a flash of flames, a grim figure appeared between them. At a glance he resembled a bony drunkard dressed in rags. In one hand he carried an old, brown bottle, sloshing with something questionable. And in the other he held a beaten lantern. A lonely, dying ember inside provided dim light. However, looking closer revealed unsettling details. His legs never quite reached the floor, instead twisting together into a wisp of smoke. Behind his hollow eyes and jagged grin burned an ominous glow. Like there was a candle within his skull... The shifty servant took a swig from his bottle before shooting the summoner a sly glance. “Heh heh heh... We meet again, witch... What can ol’ Jack do for ya...?” Said witch pushed her ego aside with a tired sigh. Arguing about titles with this particular soul was a waste of time. Her command came without hesitation. Or mercy. “Burn this disgusting hovel to the ground.” It was met with a raspy, haunting cackle. “Kreh heh heh heh... And they called me vile...” He lifted his lantern and blew into it. The ember flared violently. A massive burst of fire shot forth, reminiscent of a flamethrower. It licked the shelves, setting the cheap merchandise ablaze. At the same time, a shrill scream shook the store and assaulted eardrums. The huffy wife was demanding her husband to do something. So the pudgy man sprung to action and swung a wild haymaker at the spirit. ...Only to have his fist to slip right through and bash painfully against a shelf instead. Like trying to fight smoke. His misfortune elicited an eerie chuckle. “Try harder... Maybe it’ll work...” The spirit brought the bottle to his cracked lips and turned around, only now seeming to notice the serpent woman. He paused in the middle of a sip and his creepy grin widened. “Huh... Now ain’t this a fancy coincidence...” He said nothing more though, instead opting to take that sip after all. [611/1532] Hebihime
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Post by Hebihime on Nov 18, 2019 11:55:47 GMT -8
Hebihime continued to delight in Lilith's antics, watching the young witch proudly boast about her title and her skill. Pride went hand in hand with power, and if the little spell caster had half as much power as she sported in pride, she would do her ancestor Morgana proud. The tree buffoons though didn't share this sentiment, faces flustering assorted shades of red, steam practically coming out of their ears. It was humorous, in its own pathetic sort of way to watch. Lilith didn't seem to share the serpentine woman's humor. Where the folly of man and the false relics amused Hebihime greatly, as did the fear in the shopkeep's eyes when his 'powerful artifact' was snapped in half like a toy, Lilith just seemed irritated by the entire sequence of events. When Lilith uttered her declaration of true magic, all eyes were upon the fiasco. Not just the owner and the couple, but all the nearby patrons of the shop. Some thought this was an elaborate show, others assumed it was a role play of sorts, and others still assumed it was a bunch of looney bins arguing over some crazy thing or another. Few exacted it when Lilith actually pulled forth a spirit from the Other World. Hebihime's eyes lit up, as for a brief moment she felt a familiarness in the air. The smell of sulfur, the heat of hellfire, the dead air of the afterlife. Hell, her home... or the closest thing she'd known to a home. It made her nostalgic, if for but a moment. It also erased any lingering doubt as to the truth of Lilith's heritage. Hebihime recognized the specter immediately, an arsonist in life... many centuries ago. Burned alive in an ironic punishment for his heinous acts, now one of the countless damned souls that forever wandered the umbral plains of Hell. Stingy Jack, a specter of fire. To summon familiars from Hell took considerable arcane talent. Bringing back the dead was impossible, as far as Hebihime knew, at least without the power of the Eternal Dragon or a god far beyond her status. But, witches possessed a great talent for temporarily pulling souls into the land of the living. There was even a technique known as the One-Day Revival, which granted a physical body and one day's worth of energy to the subject. Though admittedly, Hebihime knew nothing of how to perform such a feat. The serpent woman's eyes cast a harsh glare on Lilith when she commanded her spectral familiar to burn down the shop wholesale. It was excessive, needlessly so. Lilith was immature and impulsive, Hebihime had not spent hundreds of years living in secrecy to have her true nature revealed to the world by an uppity child taking a petty slight. The husband took a useless swing at the phantom, who merely chided him for his actions. "Jack..." Hebihime said angrily once the spirit recognized her. Her words turning venomous as she shot him a hellish glare. Stingy Jack just shrugged, indifferent to her anger. "Sorry mate, job's a job. You know how it is." Even if he wasn't bound by a summoning spell, he'd have still happily followed Lilith's orders to burn the place down. It was in his nature, and fun too. Besides, it's not like he had to deal with the fallout, not anymore at least. As the two spoke the fires erupted, igniting flammable old books, wooden broomsticks, and highly combustible potions and powders. The entire shop was a powder keg, and the sprinkler system was woefully under equipped to handle the arcane inferno. The couple took off screaming, shouting ghost as they fled alongside the other patrons. The emergency exits clogged with bodies, customers stampeding over themselves as they fled. Hebihime just shook her head and scowled as the flames continued to grow around the store. The owner of the store stood motionless, frozen with fear. A real witch had summoned a real phantom in his store, which was now burning down from real fire. His entire world had been turned upside down. Not for long though, as a serpent's tail wrapped tight around his neck and lifted him off his feet. He gripped it tight as he could, dropping his broken sword and trying to free himself. "Please..." He said through raspy breath. "I'll do anything you want." He begged, tears in his eyes. Hebihime just scoffed, "What I want is for you to die. I hate witnesses, and I hate loose ends even more." With that she snapped the man's neck with unceremonious speed, casting his limp body into the fire like a sack of wet cement. Normally she liked to hear them grovel and beg for mercy, bargain with her for their pathetic lives. Lilith however, had stolen that joy from the serpent this day. She turned her attention to the witch and her familiar. "Dispel your summon. We are leaving. I do not maintain my secrecy just to have an impudent child jeopardize that with her recklessness. Now this city is going to be crawling with reporters, law enforcement, and any benevolent wizard that catches wind of this will come to investigator for themselves." With that Hebihime stormed off, kicking aside burning furniture and collapsing wooden beams as she bulldozed her path to the nearest exit. Once outside she was quick to blend into the crowd as best she could, making for the back alleys. Lilith could track her by her dark ki, or not, Hebihime no cared little which.
Word Count: 930 | Total Word Count: 4,795 | Lilith Nevermore
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Post by Lilith Nevermore on Nov 19, 2019 3:23:17 GMT -8
As the flames danced, a wicked smile spread across Lilith’s lips. Watching mortals scatter warmed her frigid heart. Hearing peasants cry out in terror felt... so very nostalgic. They had feared her family name once... And they would learn to fear it again. She had brought real magic to this hall of fake junk. No longer would be she called a mere child. The scurrying rats who survived would surely spread the tale of a powerful -and beautiful- sorceress who set their world ablaze. They would fearfully whisper the name Ne -impudent child-re. “...”Unfortunately, the little lady’s good mood was shattered by the most insulting thing she had heard all day. Not only that, but the snake woman dared to order her around? Her eye twitched and sharp teeth gritted together. She glared daggers at Hebihime. “Who are you calling an impudent child, you serpentine hussy?” Her tone dripped with venom as she snapped back. Much to her shock though, she got no answer. For a brief moment, she could only stare dumbfounded as the powerful woman bulldozed an escape route. “...Hey, get back here! Quit ignoring me!” Tch, the nerve! It was enough to get her to raise her voice. And what exactly did that hussy mean by secrecy? Why would she...? Gah, questions for later... Meanwhile, Jack was just about finished with spreading his flames. He cocked a curious brow at the departing woman. Some people never changed, did they? Heh, well, maybe people was the wrong word here... He floated closer to the witch and passed a conspiratorial whisper to her ear. “Want to know a secret...?” She shot him down immediately. “Quiet, you.” Even the blunt command couldn’t silence the blithe spirit completely. He just shrugged, musing quietly beneath is breath. “Heh... Suit yourself...” Then again, would he really have told the truth even if she had asked? Probably... Most likely... Nah, definitely not. Without a word, the young noble headed for the exit as well. She was no longer in the mood to admire the inferno. A simple wave of hand compelled the spirit to follow. Not like he had anywhere better to be. She kept the infuriating demon around for two simple reasons... Firstly, he was her bodyguard now. She had spent far too much mana dragging his soul here just to dismiss him. Secondly... Spite. The proud heiress of clan Nevermore took orders from no one! Hmph... Silently she swore that the moment she found that strange woman again, she would... clarify a number of things. Like the proper hierarchy between them for instance. With that in mind, she vanished down a dark alley. Tracking the trail of dark ki was child’s play. But the encounter on the other hand, well... That would be a whole different story. [468/2000] Hebihime
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