Nefara's Elfen Sacrifice

Rideta

Got to witness a very fun (Magnagoran fun, anyway) ritual, courtesy of @pectus and @nefara . Surprise guest appearance by @Morgfyre !! I've italicized his parts. Here you go:

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Nefara stands in the centre of the pentacle, his eyes turned up to the stones above his head, to the 

Engine bustling above. His toes curl against stone, flares of Geomantic power connecting him to the 

heart of the Engine.

A far-off scream echoes off the walls above and you can hear a body being dragged across rough stone,

skin scraping and nails clawing for freedom.

The ceiling above parts and two large guards come into view on the entrance platform. Their eyes are 

glazed and unseeing, surrounded by the scent of lavender incense and jasmines. They drag an elfen 

woman behind them by her hair, a blindfold covering her eyes.

With a whimper, an elfen woman says, "Hello..?"

Kailanna raises an eyebrow, interested, but says nothing.

Nefara is silent, his eyes turning from the Engine above to look at the pitiful creature at his feet.

Louder now, an elfen woman calls out, "Hello?! Is anyone there?"

Nefara crouches down beside the elfen, no sound to be heard from his unbreathing lungs. His face is 

mere inches away from hers, studying her features with a grimace, nose wrinkling at the stink of 

forest on her. He finally says a simple, "Hello."

The elfen screams, a terrified, high-pitched noise that bounces back within the ritual chamber. She 

scrambles backwards, hindered in the darkness of her blindfold.

Nefara laughs loudly. The unnerving yet amused chuckle growing stronger as he captures her throat in 

his hand. "Oh no, no. Traitor Shard, you do not get to leave." He drags her back to the centre of 

the pentacle by that hand, lifting her to a standing position, her throat bared.

The smile that spreads across his face a mask of insanity, Nefara rips the blindfold away from her 

eyes and turns her to face the ritual audience. The elfen's movements are frantic, struggling 

against him as she calls for mercy.

An attendant, combat-worn with a patchwork of battle scars covering her body, steps forward into the 

pentacle, a ritual dagger held aloft a pillow of velvet and jasmine petals.  The dagger's appearance 

draws a near banshee wail from the elfen.

A looming sense of trepidation grips the chamber, the air grown momentarily thick and stale.

His lips pressed to her ear, Nefara murmurs to the elfen, "Goodbye."

With a single quick movement, Nefara takes the dagger from the pillow, petals still clinging to it, 

and draws it across the elfen's throat. Her wail turns to a burbling gurgle as the dagger digs deep, 

slicing through vocal cords and her oesophagus, and she seems shocked at the sudden spray of blood 

coming from her carotid.

Nefara drops his grasp on the woman, letting her fall to her knees at his feet. She claws at her 

throat, struggling to hold onto her thread for moments more as he lets loose a shriek of insane 

enjoyment.

The scent of blood hangs heavy in the air now, thick in the back of your throat.

Finally, the woman collapses to the ground. The light of the Fates gone from her eyes.

The blood trickles through the channels of the pentacle, filling the voids in the rock. Nefara's 

footsteps are careful now, stepping over each channel to inspect the bloody tide. Finally, it covers 

every inch of the pentacle's surface, the scent almost sickening in its headiness.

Pure in his joy, blood dripping down his arms and face, Nefara Feyranti says, "Let those who fight 

against the Engine perish! Let the Taint consume all, and the demons feast on the flesh of the 

traitors!"

The massive guards, still seemingly as entranced as before, step forward to move the corpse of the 

elfen. They rest her body in the traditional funeral pose, even going so far as to rest her hands on 

her chest. The vivid gash across her throat seems akin to a smile, finally having served a purpose.

The scent of burning jasmine and lavender, heavily mixed with incense, almost choking in the aroma, 

begins to fill the room as two servants light their censers.

Viscanti attendants make their way onto the ritual floor, clutching pillows cluttered with vicious 

masques, twisting ouroboros, argent pentacles, and jasmine wreaths.

Nefara urges them forward with fast waves of his hands, splattering bloody droplets on their 

pristine gowns.

They begin to lay their offerings across the body of the elfen, covering the dead contemptible's 

flesh in images of the True Gods until the only thing visible under the Engine's bounty is the Star 

Shape of a shard.

Nefara Feyranti says, "May we transform, reborn by the death of weaker beings. Glory of glories to 

the Engine, to the Pantheon! Power in transformation, victory in death!" He stops, inhaling jaggedly.

His voice grows to a reverent madness when he continues, "FOR MAGNAGORA!""

Nefara's shout rings strongly through the chamber, bouncing between the stone walls and altar 

alcoves. The blood within the channels has begun to soak into the porous stone, feeding the thirst, 

fueling the Engine.

Conductor Pectus De'Ancariisa says, "For Magnagora!"

Yelling loudly, words echoing violently within the chamber, you say, "FOR THE ENGINE!"

Gavriel echoes quietly, words a hollow hiss, "For the Engine and the Taint that sustains it."

Vatul emits a soft hum, the spectacle contorting her visage into one of satiation. "For the Engine, 

and the Taint," she smoothly annunciates.

A sickening sizzle mars the sound of the quietly-burning censers, curls of black smoke rising from 

beneath the heaped pillows.

Softly, composed as ever, Mystagogue Kailanna n'Kylbar, Matriarch of Jackals says, "For the Engine, 

and Nil."

Mephasor flexes his wings, the ivory bones scraping against each other audibly as they stretch to 

their full length. "For the Engine!"

Conductor Pectus De'Ancariisa says, "To the Lord Legion in His return."

Aois-Dana Vatul d'Noceur, of the Danse Macabre says, "To the Lord Machine, whose spear pierces the 

cogs and drives them forward."

With a flourish of his arm, Nefara bows deeply.

Snarls of green flame erupt from beneath the mound of cloth, viridescent tongues flickering outward 

as a soundless implosion scatters the offerings, a smear of greasy ash all that remains where once 

the corpse rested.

Nefara Feyranti says, "To the Lord Legion, and His siblings."

With a flourish of her arm, Pectus bows deeply.

Her eyes shifting in acknowledgement, Aois-Dana Vatul d'Noceur, of the Danse Macabre says, "Pardon. 

To the Lord Legion, and His ilk."

With a foot forward, Vatul executes a curtsey, her skirts brushing along the ground.

A deep and throaty mumbling voice says, "Long has it been since blood has spilt in these halls."

Gavriel kneels onto one knee, demonstrating his humility and respect.

Pectus kneels onto one knee, demonstrating her humility and respect.

You drop to one knee, demonstrating your humility and respect.

The air crackles with forks of black lightning, and an ominous voice says, "Longer still, that it be 

not to one of Our kin, or to Us, but to the glory of the Engine and that for which you strive."

Mephasor kneels onto one knee, demonstrating his humility and respect.

Nefara Feyranti says, "I hope it was acceptable, Lord Legion."

Kailanna kneels onto one knee, demonstrating her humility and respect.

Nefara kneels onto one knee, demonstrating his humility and respect.

Morgfyre smiles thinly, eyes smouldering.

Vatul exhales and descends to her knees in a sweep of her gown.

Pectus stands up and stretches her arms out wide.

Flighty and timid, an apprehensive child's voice says, "We confess Ourselves...pleased."

 

Morgfyre ponders Nefara thoughtfully, looking him up and down.

 

Wings scraping the ground in his humility, Spitfire Gavriel d'Vanecu, Demagogue of Dissonance says, 

"Hail, Lord Legion. I am honoured to see You among us, all the moreso to find that sir Feyranti has 

earned Your pleasure."

 

Nefara stands up and stretches his arms out wide.

 

In a fit of unhinged laughter, a gibbering voice says, "It is unavoidable."

 

Nefara tilts his head curiously.

 

The terrible cacophony of a thousand discordant voices says, "Our Sister was bound to find a mortal 

worthy of praise. A pity, as it turns out."

 

Vatul flourishes gently in her own reverence, the subtle sparkle of the brass and serpentine chime 

of bells upon her gown casting strange shapes against the aura of the grand presence of the Lord.

 

Utterly compassionless, an emotionless voice says, "Do not speak those words lightly, Nefara."

 

A booming voice of command says, "Do not perform these actions with an empty heart, or a weak will."

 

An officious, lecturing voice says, "Amusing, terribly amusing. You have done well, this eve."

 

With a flourish of his arm, Nefara bows deeply.

 

Legion offers but a thin smirk, His form dissipating into the surrounding shadows as ephemeral mist.

 

Kailanna stands up and stretches her arms out wide.

 

Nefara Feyranti murmurs, "Thank you, Lord Legion. I will continue to fight for the glory of the 

Engine, always."

 

Mephasor stands up and stretches his arms out wide.

You stand up and stretch your arms out wide.

You smile softly.

Vatul lowers her eyes in the wake of the mist, before rising to her feet - brushing her skirts of 

soot, and viscera.

Pectus

I tooold you we'd log it, @Drocilla ! 

Drocilla

Go forth and slaughter my children!

Xenthos

Drocilla said:

Go forth and slaughter my children!

Are you intentionally missing the comma in this sentence?

Shaddus

Only if we run out of elfen and merian.

Breandryn

Very creepy and lavish. Beautiful writing!