View Full Version : Angmar: The Temple - Blood Cleansing

11/Nov/2012, 07:41 PM

[OP created by Tzu, modified by Sur Vanar Utírieste]

Encircled by beech trees and overlooking its surroundings with a watchful and hungry eye; an arduous climb leads to an open-clearing of rock and one of the most splendid elevations near Carn Dûm. Upon the wide precipice and up to the very wall of the mountain stands a formidable structure. Its paths stained dark, its stones looking as old as the ground upon which they stand, and its columns proud, smooth, and in the grip of ancient vines.

An immense circular courtyard, looking resplendent and beautifully crafted still. Its ceiling high and open, looking upon the sky and taking the rain in along with the sun. A black slab of obsidian, costly beyond measure, stands vacant and cold in the center, the floor about it engraved with unintelligible signs and letters. Branching out like a spider's legs are the outer rooms: the quarters, the teaching chambers, and many other preparatory rooms. Bare and seemingly empty. Further down the path, winding back toward the greener valley, sit stone-fenced pastures and drafty buildings wherein animals were once kept as food for the temple residents, and higher purposes of offering.

All sits quiet and chilled, awaiting rebirth.

There are many disciplines within the Temple and much need for specialists to serve both the Temple and Carn Dûm. For now the twins Elvira and Erebus Nyx, High Priestess and High Priest, will teach all disciplines, but at present, it remains for the Temple to be cleansed with a rain of blood and hard work. Eventually a guild-like structure (though not quite like anything we've had before) will be established; but for now, we wish to simply RP as our characters bringing things back to life and preparing for the Temple - and it's inhabitants - to rise to power and influence once more. The list below will perhaps give you an idea of the direction things are going in and provide inspiration for characters and their interest in the Temple...

Future Disciplines and Activities to be Undertaken

- Oracle / Prophecy -
- Astrology -
- Mythology and History -
- Medicine and Preparation of the Dead -
- Incantations, Curses, and Prayers -
- Sacrifices -

We want this thread to very much have a feel of daily life and thus will be incorporating activities and roles such as care of the animals (which will be used for everything from sacrifices to food), taxing local inhabitants for upkeep of the Temple, recruiting individuals to join, and so forth. This is to say nothing of the daily struggles, personalities, arguments, rejoicings, tasks, and teachings of the inhabitants themselves. We believe there is a myriad of opportunities for both small and large scale RP - within - the guild structure and this is what we will be looking to introduce.

For now, RP your arrival (or previous arrival, however you want to work it out) at the Temple and how you plan to help carry out this revivification. If you have any questions at all about what sort of role you might want to play, please contact myself or Moriel as we would love to discuss it with you.

15/Nov/2012, 03:28 AM
http://i1195.photobucket.com/albums/aa393/1dr3am3dadr3am/Character%20Icons%20for%20RP/Elvira_zps6ea93a97.jpg http://i1195.photobucket.com/albums/aa393/1dr3am3dadr3am/Character%20Icons%20for%20RP/Erebus_zps404f88b6.jpg

Elvira Nyx, Erebus Nyx, and Zinnia
The Courtyard

"Zinnia's chambers are cleaner than this." proclaimed Elvira, wrinkling her nose at the putrefying rat carcass before her feet. "And, warmer." added Erebus, rubbing his hands together. As the twins surveyed the atmosphere of the courtyard - cold as death - with displeasure, Zinnia rejoiced in her wretched heart. "Home again, after all these years." she hissed, kneeling in her tattered rags. Bringing her balding head to the ground, thick hands laid out before her, and murmuring under her breath. "I see nothing of use here. For once, you are naught but a tortured soul, and lunatic." remarked Elvira, shaking her head in disapproval.

"I may be blind." sneered Zinnia in elation, "But I see more than you child." Cackling and unveiling a leather pouch at her side, Zinnia scratched her yellowed fingernails within and cast an array of many-faced iridescent dice about the ground where she knelt. Each engraved with symbols, whorls, and ancient lettering. Hissing and moaning to herself, caressing the dice in her wide palms, Erebus planted a pale hand firmly on the oracle's left shoulder. "What do you see?" he asked tersely. "Blood." sneered Zinnia, tugging her thick lips up and down, side to side in a large grin. "Much, much blood." she clacked, collecting her dice with a sweep of her right arm.

Erebus strode to his sister's side and whispered. "She abandons her sanctuary in the mountains for the first time in centuries. She can't have been wrong Elvira." Zinnia twisted her head in their direction. "Why do you doubt?" she said, "This, this is the day we've been waiting for. Why do you think I bothered to mentor you both to begin with?" Elvira arched a single brow. "This is what your preparation was for. For the revival of the Temple, and it's salvation..." Erebus frowned in thought, nodding to Elvira.

The twins then cast aside cloak and hood in unison, baring their immaculate skin to the midday sun. Bold sapphire eyes fixed on the task ahead. Erebus, clad in sleeveless tunic and sacrilegious kilt, bore on his exposed back the mark of jagged scorpion, that stretched from the back of his neck to the line of his waist. Elvira, clad in a sleeveless draping gown with low neckline and belted waist, also bore the mark on her own back. "Such enormous task cannot be done alone Zinnia." reasoned Erebus to the oracle. Zinnia smiled, rising to full height. "Draco your ally will be here soon enough, as will others... For I have seen it."

15/Nov/2012, 04:56 AM
She gazed up at the forbidding building with a triumphant
gleam in her grey eyes. The temple stood
just as the spirits had told her, topping a great mount near Carn Dum. The old structure may have suffered from
neglect, but to her it seemed magnificent still. The voices told her to come, that this sacred
place needed cleansing. They had sent
her vivid dreams to reinforce their hissing in her mind. A deliciously gruesome storm where the rain
was blood and the thunder was the splintering of bones. Go,
the spirits urged. Bring us a gift. Serve us as you
never have. She protested that she
strove always to do what they wanted.
The ravaged souls of the dead constantly lingered around her. They gave her orders and she never failed to
obey. She was a servant, nothing but a
servant to carry out their wishes. When
she fulfilled their worldly desires they left her—most of the time. Sometimes spirits stayed for years, filled
with an insatiable lust for the power that her blind obedience gave them.</font>

Whisper didn’t
mind. They were her glorious blessing,
and she would lay down her life if they asked.
But of course, they never asked that.
If she died, who would be their vessel?</font>

There was a tug on the chain she was holding and Whisper glanced down. The young man at the other end of the chain
had collapsed to the ground, coughing as the metal collar yanked at his
neck. Ignoring his suffering, Whisper dragged him upward. He was in a terrible state. She’d found him wandering, hopelessly lost
near Carn Dum. He was of the
Hill-people, just as she had been, once.
He had the misfortune to stumble across her path. On a different day she might not have touched
him, for she had no quarrel with the Hill-men lest the spirits deemed it to be
so. He had just been in the wrong place
at the wrong time. The spirits had asked
her to bring a worthy sacrifice to the temple, and then he’d crossed her path,
looking healthy and robust.</font>

So she had taken him.
It wasn’t hard—it rarely ever was.
Men especially never expected her to be who she was, particularly not
after she batted her eyelashes at them a few times. She clapped manacles and a collar on him and
pulled him along. He fought against her
at first—they always tried—but he broke quickly. She hadn’t even raised a sweat.</font>

He is good, the
spirits said. His body is strong. Offer it now
to the temple. Cleanse the sacred

So now she stood tall before it, undaunted by its tremendous
columned façade. She’d made a
treacherous climb to reach it, but the view of Carn Dum below alone would have
been worth it. But Whisper was not concerned with the view. She gave the man’s chain a heave. “Let’s go,” she said. The voices in her mind urged them
onward. She half-dragged her captive in
the direction of the temple courtyard and into the open expanse of dark stone. She ignored the indistinct pleas of the
prisoner, striding ahead with purpose.
Three figures (Elvira, Erebus,and Zinnia)clustered in the middle of the courtyard, bent over the
ground, where she glimpsed a set of dice.
An oracle, Whisper realized. She had no power to tell the future, only the
determination to bend it to the will of the spirits that commanded her.</font>

As there was no one else there, Whisper presumed the trio held control of the temple. Perhaps the two younger, striking ones. She came to a halt several yards away from
them, her black braid swinging behind her.
She drew herself up to her full height and delivered a kick to her
prisoner’s side that sent him sprawling.</font>

“I bring you an offering,” she called, her low voice
echoing. “Will he suffice?”</font><sub></sub>

27/Nov/2012, 09:17 PM

</font>It had been a long climb, but Belzagar was not yet breathing hard as he stood at the door of the temple and removed his shoes. A coldness had overtaken his face as his bare feet moved over the chilly stone, memories briefly surfacing in his eyes - along with the faintest touch of contempt. They might do their best here, but they would never match Numenor.</font>

</font>And yet they had not done so badly, after all - as though the inner sanctum had been lifted straight from Númenor itself, where at first he and his had worshipped in secret, and then risen - risen so high before its dreadful fall. Disillusionment with the gods that had been promised had stricken them all, then, but Belzagar had come back; driven by what he could not acknowledge, but the constant fact of all of his kindred: mortality. With every evil they had committed, every act that drove their souls further into the immorality of the void, they had been promised a life everlasting, and seen the pale wraith-like creatures - seen and summoned, after a training too painful to remember, with innocence lost.</font>

And he had come back. Of course Belzagar had come back. He thought too highly of himself to be a mere warrior, and such philosophies and beauties in this lesser earth were only held by the Elves, whom he hated with a deep loathing born of his own jealous aspirations. None could deny, at least, that this place was beautiful; and there were beauties and powers that the Elves would not touch - the beauty of consecrated blood, of the pure dark sacrifice, and the power to call to nameless things that could answer, and strike, if you knew the way.

He shuddered - a chill in the air, the temple open to the elements - and drew his hood over his dark hair. The temple was almost empty, except for a few devotees. One of them looked to be a true religionist and Belzagar's lip curled slightly; whilst there was a passion to worship, he was a cynic at heart and genuine fanatics unnerved him somewhat. They always had the air of knowing something he did not, which Belzagar hated.

Nevertheless it was discourteous not to acknowledge them. "Greetings," he said, very briefly tipping his head.


21/Jan/2013, 05:28 PM
NPC Filania

The vast expanses of Eriador lay around, as far as the eye could see, thin mist hovering above the ground like the gowns of a ghost, covering patches of forested ground or ancient ruins. She was near Carn Dum, as far north as she had ever come and her skin crawled at the thought of the power that dwelled here. Beings out of nightmares, bed-time stories of the old times coming to life, the shadows on the distant hills taking shape, echoing corridors leading to myth… That mystical sense, weak and yet present since she could remember, had led her here. Sometimes it was like an unworldly voice in her head and others it was as if a fading, silver light in the night called to her to follow it. This last year after she had to run away and hide, the sense grew stronger. It transformed into a force within her, struggling to get out and… do things but Filania had no idea of how to relieve it. The force kept growing and sometimes screamed incoherently in her head and as it did so it led her more clearly and without a doubt up north. She followed the signs and even though she had no intention of getting involved with the Angmarians it looked like she would.

Faint whispers around night-fires, eyes full of fear and sometimes boasts… the North was boiling as the old Angmar attempted a rise to power. She had then heard sayings of the Temple rebuilding. Maybe it was that force that sent her a dream about it. Eventually, she had to come here, seeking magic.

Here at last. No doubt the place was linked with dark deeds; the black, old stones and the arches and the engraved with strange symbols pillars dappling the ground with haunting shadows whispered of them. Normally, the girl would not step back. She was unaware of how dangerous those places could be and in her mind evil was just a means to achieve your goals, kind or not. So no, she would not step back but now she had a feeling that if she continued and took the climb up, her life would change. She could not walk out of that temple if she wanted, that was what her gut was telling her.

She was almost certain too that if she entered the temple she would find what she desired. Power. Power to discover her unknown enemies and eliminate them. If magic couldn’t do that, nothing could, she decided and with no hesitation anymore she started going up.

The hill quickly flattened in front of her to reveal a circular courtyard. Grey skies ahead blew a violent wind that sent the leaves of the beeches in a furious rustling and slapped her dirty cheeks. She stayed there for a while, watching the odd gathering of people in the courtyard, wondering who she should address. A shoeless man looked as he had just arrived and waited for a response. Another girl was also there –though it might be a full woman, Filania could only see her back- and she was carrying a chain that ended in a metal collar around a man’s neck. She wondered what the meaning of the prisoner was and then studied the trio that stood almost in the middle of the open space. The two of them were truly magnificent in their ritual attire. She decided those two were the arch-priests or something like that and gave no notice to the other woman, the older one that was standing near them. Filania was impressed by the twins and felt a tiny bit of shame for the way she was clothed; her tight brown breeches were worn out and torn at places and her long tunic tightened a little on the bosom by a dark brown jacket was actually a man’s –she had borrowed it along with a healthy supply of food and money after she offered him help in the fields and he gave nothing in return. Her boots were the same ones she had bought six months ago from some dwarves she had met on the road and they were falling apart day by day. And she was so dirty… She had almost grown to be a woman and her hair were a tangled mess of murky binding curls that reached her waist but any beauty was almost lost in the signs of weariness and fatigue. She had also lost her coat two days ago when she had to escape from some wolves and the time since that was hell. The North was not forgiving to the unprepared. That reminded her… She didn’t even have a proper weapon. Filania was totally unaware of how to handle blades or bows; she only had a short sword she had taken from some corpses near Fornost –there were always corpses near that place but finding a weapon, that was pure luck- and she had hardly used it.

All in all she was a sorry lot but the force inside her urged her to stay, like reminding her she had something very special that they needed. Filania could not think of anything; she was not rich, not skilled in anything but running away and she could not even tell she was more beautiful that that resplendent woman.

A sudden determination overcame her and she stepped forward. “I am here to learn the art!” she said, eyes coldly fixed on the two leaders, as she surmised. She gave the other two attendants an angry look, even though she had nothing against them but still could not think of a reason why they should be her friends. Whatever people approached this place were certainly of the bad sort and the last thing she wanted was them thinking of her as weak.

22/Jan/2013, 05:26 AM

Coming into any kind of unfamiliar area without a weapon was a foolhardy idea, and as Naelia eyed this Filania woman, the Black Numenorean was already suspicious of her. Even when she was still in Mordor, the minioness often was suspicious of newcomers, and although Naelia herself was new to the area of Angmar, she was well accustomed to how darker places were run (or at least partly).

Ever since being attacked by one of those meddlesome Rangers on her trek north from the Dark Lands of Mordor, Naelia thought of offering him up as some kind of sacrifice, and when she heard of a temple in Angmar that specialized in that kind of thing, she thought that she would check it out for herself. "Not that I'll be specializing in sacrifices," the relocated minioness thought to herself, "but I might learn some other abilities."

When she first heard of the Temple of Angmar, Naelia immediately thought of the Shadows division of Mordor's army. Not that they were in any way linked, but some of the abilities that you could specialize in sounded similar. She was even thinking of joining up for the Shadows just prior to being sent forth to Angmar. "Maybe this is my second chance." the minioness thought to herself as she approached the two twins that seemed to be the high priests of the temple.

"I would have offered up a sacrifice of my own, but I'm not skilled in that kind of thing. Perhaps I could specialize in some other art that's more suitable?" Naelia blurted out, hoping that she didn't get in over her head again. No matter where she called home, the minioness often got herself into situations where she didn't always know the outcome. Luckily, she wasn't the type of person that backed out of anything, no matter how challenging it ended up being.

07/May/2013, 08:57 AM
http://i1195.photobucket.com/albums/aa393/1dr3am3dadr3am/Character%20Icons%20for%20RP/Elvira_zps6ea93a97.jpg http://i1195.photobucket.com/albums/aa393/1dr3am3dadr3am/Character%20Icons%20for%20RP/Erebus_zps404f88b6.jpg

Elvira Nyx, Erebus Nyx, and Zinnia
The Courtyard --> Sacrificial Chamber

Elvira and Erebus joined their hands in prayer, murmuring in a dark and rumbling speech before opening their eyes once again. "Ah." gasped Zinnia, waddling to a woman with luminous gray eyes (Whisper). "From whence do you come?" asked Erebus in mild displeasure, for he had neither heard nor sensed this stranger's approach, and was never fond of surprises. "What does it matter?" snapped Zinnia, chiding the would-be High Priest who was but a pupil yet in her blind sight.

"Perfectly aged." hissed the oracle contently, squeezing the ripe collared neck of the wretch brought as offering. "You have done, well." she cackled, with a gurgling in her throat and foaming at the corners of her thick sickly lips. "Tell me gift-bringer, what do they call you?" inquired Zinnia, asking the mysterious woman for her name.

Seconds following Whisper's arrival, a dark-haired man (Belzagar) also arrived to the courtyard. "How do you do?" returned Elvira in a curtsy, uncertain of this second visitor's precise intentions. Nevertheless, Zinnia seem to very much approve. "Good. Good." she muttered in elation, still contemplating Whisper's contribution. Suddenly, a lithe young woman (Filania) came forward, from where the Nyx twins could never figure out, and proclaimed her interest in the Temple practices.

"Yes. We can see that." replied Erebus with a slight frown. "Would you be so respectful as to give us your name, young lady?" he asked, admonishing the adolescent. Erebus had spent little time with females, apart from that which he had naturally spent with his sister throughout his life, and had forgotten what complex beings they could be. Masking emotions with emotions, or sometimes just stubborn and short-tempered by nature.

Elvira, who had once been Filania's age, gestured with a flick of her head for the adolescent to join the crowd, who soon welcomed yet another arrival. "You will find your art before the day is out she-minion. But we must not waste further time, the halls of the Temple thirst for blood, and life in death." said Erebus, greeting Naelia and looking to the Hill-man in Whisper's keeping.

"Right." added Zinnia, showing her back to the others with a sinister expression. "To the sacrificial chamber - now."

One walk in the dark later...

"Glad you decided to join us." said Elvira to Belzagar, striding into the once renown sacrificial chamber of the Temple of Angmar. Erebus, who carried the only torch that could be found on the way to this section of the edifice, made no attempt to hide his contempt for the appearance of the room. For in its abandonment, the chamber had fallen victim to vines, rubble, and the cracks of neglect and time.

"Let me shine a little more light." smiled Zinnia, unmoved by the daunting task to make the sacrificial chamber functional again, reaching into a deep pocket within her rags and pulling out a small leather pouch. From within, she pinched portions of shimmering metallic dust and cast it upon the bowls of a variety of torch pillars encircling the chamber.

Elvira gazed up at the arched ceiling, mesmerized by the grandeur that even rotting vines could not conceal entirely. Revealed now by the sheets of flame created by Zinnia. "Lay him, right there." ordered the oracle, pointing a swollen finger to a large stone table in the heart of the chamber. "May I?" requested Erebus, plucking the chain from Whisper and thrusting the Hill-man upon the table with a grunt and thump.

Silencing the man's mouth with a clump of tattered cloth, courtesy of Zinnia, Erebus then moved to bind the man's limbs to the four corners of the table. With an endless stream of muffled cries behind her, Elvira looked to those would help bring the Temple to its former glory, first by blood. "Would anyone care to do the honors?" she asked them, revealing a glinting bejeweled dagger in her bony flawless hands.

OOC thread now made! You may all access it HERE (http://www.lotrplaza.com/showthread.php?71468-The-Temple-of-Angmar-OOC&p=580392#post580392). :XD:

09/May/2013, 01:08 AM

Her voice drew the attention of all three; she stood tall under the scrutiny of their gaze. The old woman, the oracle, padded over to her, unhindered by her blindness. She had none of the striking good looks of the other two, who were clearly related—twins, Whisper thought—but she seemed more ready to accept the newcomer than they. The young man demanded to know where she had come from, but the oracle waved his question away, and it was well that she did, for Whisper would not have been inclined to answer. She arched a brow at the man (Erebus) but said nothing to him as the oracle (Zinnia) investigated the Hill-man she had brought as a cleansing sacrifice for the temple. She expressed her pleasure at the gift with a wicked joy that was almost repulsive to even Whisper. But she heard the voices in her head, murmuring their approval, and so she too approved of the oracle’s behavior and mannerisms.

Then the oracle asked for her name—though not in so many words, which was wise, as she had not been born with the name that she went by now, but called herself something different. “These days, I go by Whisper,” the raven-haired woman said, her voice stern and self-assured. “I am glad that this offering meets your approval. He was a . . . most fortuitous coincidence.”

Whisper had only finished the final syllable of the word coincidence when the group of four (for she did not count the gift that the spirits had told her to bring) was joined by another individual, a dark-haired man who had little to say for himself other than to provide them with a salutation. After him, another woman entered, stating her intention to learn the arts taught at the temple quite boldly. A third newcomer followed, and she said she was not attuned to the arts of sacrifice. Whisper wondered if this betrayed her weakness, though the twins did not speak of it as such. The oracle seemed impatient to set events in motion, so once they were all gathered, she ushered them out of the courtyard. It was so dark that it was impossible to see where they were going, so for a short time they were all as blind as the oracle, who led them along, the darkness making no difference to her. Whisper towed the Hill-man along behind her as she followed, doing her best not to stumble.

They emerged sometime later into a large, decrepit room that had clearly once been the sacrificial chamber but had long since fallen into disrepair. As they funneled into it, the oracle began to light the torch pillars that lined the room with a strange shining dust she kept in a pouch within her skirts. The fire illuminated the darkened corners of the chamber, revealing the vaulted ceiling and the central altar. Whisper surrendered the end of her chain to Erebus with a little bit of resentment; certainly, he asked permission, but he didn’t wait for her to give it before he took the chain.

Patience, the spirits said to her, the first time they’d spoken clearly since she entered the temple. Your time yet comes.

So she watched as Erebus shoved the Hill-man down onto the altar and tied him down. She’d broken him sufficiently so that he did not struggle, at least not with any real fight in him, save for a few cries that were muted by a cloth stuffed gracelessly into his mouth. Once he was secure, the female twin (Elvira) turned to the small group gathered, brandishing a dagger encrusted with gems and inviting one of them to step up to complete the deed.

Whisper stepped forward almost instantly, not needing the spirits to tell her they wanted her to do this. “He is my offering,” she said, her voice ringing in the half-eaten chamber, “and therefore my blood to spill. I would finish what I have begun, if it be your will.”

09/May/2013, 09:25 PM

He offered Elvira a slightly deeper bow and a calculated glance, touched with the corners of a smile; after all, Belzagar was not unmoved by a pretty face. More cynically, perhaps, it was always easier to gain influence where you had already charmed someone; and Belzagar had most success with this with the ladies. Men he tended to impress with his sheer ruthlessness, as well as his physical impression. The Black Númenórean was wide across the shoulders, as well as tall; but Belzagar was no mindless, musclebound bully-boy. He followed the gang into the sacrificial chamber, making no response to Erebus save a slight tilt of his eyebrows, which might have meant nothing at all.

Clinically, ignoring the cold seeping into his skin from the floor, Belzagar examined the subject for sacrifice; the woman Whisper would have had to travel a way and put some work in to catch a Hill-man, as they were notoriously shy - unless this particular specimen was especially stupid, of course. Belzagar sighed, mentally; they were truly long from the days where sacrifices were carefully chosen and selected. These days, Melkor would have to take what he could get. That is, if they were even sacrificing to Melkor. Many of the old traditions had been lost, after all. Whilst some of the designs and runes seemed familiar, for all Belzagar knew this was a cult to Ancalagon the Black, Ben-adar, Gothmog, or Smaug the Unburgled-from. Still, a chance for a blood-offering was not to be missed, and there was always power released at a sacrifice - power that Belzagar might be able to share.

Whisper had stepped forward immediately. Belzagar smiled a tiny wry smile to himself, impressed. "Eager," he whispered, under his breath; "I like that".

He completely ignored Filania, for the simple reason that she had no obvious skills, weapons or attractions; but he did nod slightly to Naelia, out of sheer over-politeness - he knew her as a soldier in Mordor.

31/May/2013, 10:24 AM
NPC Filania

The twins casted a mysterious attractiveness to her, more so when they addressed her after having spoken with the other people that had arrived. All three of them seemed pleased with the first woman’s appearance (Whisper) though the older woman(Zinnia) seemed to be more entranced in the gift as they called it; a Hillman, a poor specimen of a man with no more will left in him. He was to be pitied but he was also ugly and weak and Filania, as a young girl ready to grow strong and annihilate her enemies scorned weakness more than anything. The woman that had brought him here was an entirely different matter. As was the man (Belzagar), a dark man of Numenorean descent from what she could figure. He was mysterious too and strange but there was a power emanating from him and some hidden knowledge in his eyes. Filania did not like him however and felt like he was the most evil in their company, second only to the priestess that circled and examined the Hillman with such a vulgar excitement.

After her own arrival another woman(Naelia) approached them, one of vaguer lineage, at least to the not so well experienced in such matters youngling. She seemed hardened enough but Filania had the feeling she was a bit distant from the others. Well, everyone was more distant than the usual traveler you meet on the road.

Filania was not very afraid of old, ugly crones but she was relieved the twins were the ones who actually talked to her. The male(Erebus) one was so handsome and imposing that she was at a brief loss of words for a time. She was ready to actually tell her name when his sister(Elvira) called her near and decided to lead them further into the Temple. She was also beautiful and possessed an air of self-confidence and assurance that almost disquieted and relaxed Filania at the same time. She just followed, mostly overlooked by the others despite her bold declaration. Maybe that was for the best. She could not actually defend herself in any way with her current abilities so it might be wise not to attract too much attention.

When they reached the sacrificial chamber she waited behind the others, observing the procedures. The arrangement of the room confessed its purpose but Filania still did not want to believe it for some small seconds. A part of her screamed that all this is wrong and that she should back away now. She looked at the Hillman being led to the altar by the old bent witch and she felt the need to save him. Still, another part of her longed for power and for the experience of letting a person die before her to just witness his blood running down to the earth. She wanted to send those thoughts away, all of them, to stay calm and serene but they insisted. And that dark thing inside her moved lustily, raised its unseen nostrils and smelled death and now its thirst could not be quenched in any other way. When the priestess asked for someone to perform the deed, Filania no longer felt the need to save the gift –how could she think of him as a man before? She had no taste for sacrifices but the spectacle would worth it and the beast inside her would rest after it.

The woman that had actually brought the gift to the Temple stepped forward, ready to take his life. Filania felt an admiration for the way she carried herself, for the tone of her voice and the undoubtful determination. She was a powerful one and one the young woman could actually see as an idol since she was in that age where people need idols. Only thing now was to actually see her do it.