12 Deaths

Breandryn

When Breandryn left the Glomdoring, she took her crow Irk with her. To her clueless and young perspective, he was a surly hunting companion and her first and only friend, so the Blacktalon were cruel to demand his return. Convinced that Brother Crow's influence had warped the bird, she prayed to Lady Maylea for help, who sent a servant telling her, essentially, that the answer lay inside Glomdoring and the nature of crows. Breandryn puzzled that over for a long time, and grew up a bit, and eventually came to the conclusion that Irk was unhappy being penned up in a stable and should be returned to the forest he knows, for the best interests of the beast. 

Crek, however, has other ideas about the bird.

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Breandryn:

She is a nimble faeling wild demigoddess and is all angular elbows and knees with a hungry, waifish build, her scrawny arms and gangly legs giving her an awkward, coltish demeanor, the impression heightened by her rather tall (for a Faeling) height, roughly that of an Elfen child. Long hair tangles about her face in a dark cloud, the sooty shade contrasting sharply with her pale skin. Heightening this pairing, a thick band of charcoal paint rakes across her face, outlining blue eyes in a dark smudge. A set of bat-like, leathery wings unfolds behind her, membranes translucent and tinted with swirling purples and blues in the stained-glass patterning of a butterfly. Mirroring these hues, intricate woad tattoos have been inked all over her body, twisting and spiralling across her skin in exotic accents. Bits of antler, beads and feathers have been woven through her hair, while trinkets and talismans hang from her neck, wrist and waist, softly clicking and clacking with each step. 

Irk: 

The crow is massive, an enormous bird with dappled grey feathers and beak. One eye has been scooped out, leaving a dark, empty socket, forcing the crow to constantly cock his head towards whatever catches his interest. The crow's one red eye gazes at you with hatred. Larger than a dog, his wings have a span of over eight feet. He is called 'Irk.'

Greypaw:

With a broad chest and large paws, a fierce timberwolf is sleekly muscled and covered in thick gray and brown fur, separated horizontally across the middle of its body. Luminous golden eyes carefully survey its surroundings, ears constantly twitching to aid it in its search for prey. Spread paws are perfect for balancing its weight, and only a soft padding accompanies its movement, enabling it to stalk prey stealthily. Its jaws are clearly powerful, with razor-sharp canine teeth ready to puncture enemies and tear flesh mercilessly. He is called 'Greypaw.'

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You sent the following message to Crek: If I return Irk to you and your forest, will he be treated well?

Message #515 sent by Crek (received: 2016/09/30 17:37:33)

   He will be slaughtered until he is able to return to the Weave.

You sent the following message to Crek: Then the Glomdoring will never have him. I would have given you the crow, if he would be treated well, but he does not deserve death.

Crek tells you, "Is it death to return something to where it belongs?"

Crek tells you, "You have taken a crow from his home. He has been corrupted. His death would allow him to be reborn as he should have been."

You tell Druid Crek Ysav'rai, Eye of Crow, "He has languished in a stable for years. I was unable to do anything to him to change his form or remove the Glomdoring's touch. I agree that there is something twisted and dark in him, but it is not from my influence."

Crek tells you, "Then I pity poor Irk and hope one day you will permit him to serve the Wyrd as he was born to do."

You tell Druid Crek Ysav'rai, Eye of Crow, "How can he serve while dead?"

You tell Druid Crek Ysav'rai, Eye of Crow, "I am willing to let him return to his birthplace, but not if he is going to be slaughtered."

Crek tells you, "So long as he is alive he serves one who has abandoned his home. His death will free his thread to be reborn as a crow who does serve the Wyrd. 'Giving' him to us is impossible so long as he remains loyal to you."

You tell Druid Crek Ysav'rai, Eye of Crow, "Hmm."

You tell Druid Crek Ysav'rai, Eye of Crow, "What if...what if I found him a new owner, one who lives in your forest?"

Crek tells you, "Crows, and all other beasts summoned or created by mages, are bonded to one and only one. Their loyalty cannot be changed or traded as normal beasts."

You tell Druid Crek Ysav'rai, Eye of Crow, "Oh..."

You tell Druid Crek Ysav'rai, Eye of Crow, "Why does he have to die, though?"

Crek tells you, "He could remain as is, certainly."

Crek tells you, "Should you return to the Wyrd."

You tell Druid Crek Ysav'rai, Eye of Crow, "Isn't there a tree, somewhere, for old crows, injured crows, where they can just perch and be happy?"

Crek tells you, "He would be happy if he was permitted to serve his home. You are denying him such happiness."

You tell Druid Crek Ysav'rai, Eye of Crow, "I think Irk would be happy anywhere, as long as he can get fat and eat wriggling things. He can't really do that with me, though."

You tell Druid Crek Ysav'rai, Eye of Crow, "Thank you for your honesty, though. I think some people would have lied and told me what I wanted to hear."

You tell Druid Crek Ysav'rai, Eye of Crow, "Were you the one who sent Zoku after Irk?"

Crek tells you, "So long as Irk remains outside the Wyrd I will be encouraging his mortal release so he might be reborn. If others choose to assist in such matters, that is their decision."

You tell Druid Crek Ysav'rai, Eye of Crow, "Reborn?"

Crek tells you, "Reborn."

You tell Druid Crek Ysav'rai, Eye of Crow, "Like we are?"

Crek tells you, "Aye."

You tell Druid Crek Ysav'rai, Eye of Crow, "Oh, that's not as bad, I guess. It's just a few moments of pain..."

You tell Druid Crek Ysav'rai, Eye of Crow, "I will talk to him about it."

Crek tells you, "I speak of a true death. Returning to the stable does not release his soul."

You tell Druid Crek Ysav'rai, Eye of Crow, "But he'll be reborn and still be Irk, right?"

Crek tells you, "I do not know what he would be called. I doubt we would be able to tell which crow he has become once he has been rewoven. You seem to be confused as to what I am speaking of."

You tell Druid Crek Ysav'rai, Eye of Crow, "I am. I have never killed a crow before."

Crek tells you, "I say reborn, not revived. His mortal self must die so his soul might be free. His thread must be rewoven. He will eventually return to the Weave as an entirely different crow. He would have no knowledge of what he once was."

You tell Druid Crek Ysav'rai, Eye of Crow, "...oh. You want to destroy him!"

Crek tells you, "I wish to free him from this torment, yes. But I would never permanently end the soul of a crow."

Crek tells you, "He would be reborn anew. The life of Irk would both end and begin as another crow. Perhaps named Irkish."

You tell Druid Crek Ysav'rai, Eye of Crow, "It is not torment! I am very kind to him and we hunt creatures in the nature reserve and I tell him stories."

You tell Druid Crek Ysav'rai, Eye of Crow, "He doesn't seem to like stories much, this is true, or me very much, but I am not tormenting him!"

Crek tells you, "It is torment. Crows exist to protect the forest their Great Spirit has pledged to protect. You have taken it outside the forest. It serves one who serves another that seeks to end his homeland. Crows care not for happiness for they serve the Wyrd but his bond is to you. So long as that bond remains, he cannot do as crows do."

Crek tells you, "So long as you deny him this service, you torture him. I seek only to sever this bond so he might begin anew. Were it possible to do so otherwise, I would not suggest he be rewoven."

You tell Druid Crek Ysav'rai, Eye of Crow, "But Irk is just a bird! How does he know where he serves or who I am, beyond that I help bring him food?"

Crek tells you, "You cannot change him from what he is. The crow is part of the Wyrd. Raven is dead."

Crek tells you, "He is part of a collective spirit. You have taken a portion of this spirit and removed it from the will of the entirety. Just because he cannot express this does not mean he does not understand."

Crek tells you, "But do as you wish. You have forsaken the Glomdoring. I no longer care what you seek. I will continue to try and free Irk from this torture you have imposed upon him."

You tell Druid Crek Ysav'rai, Eye of Crow, "Oh... That is... You are saying that all crows, everywhere, are drawn to the Glomdoring?"

Crek tells you, "Brother Crow is the collected consciousness of all crows. He is bound to the Glomdoring. All lesser crows are just parts of the whole."

Crek tells you, "It is the same for your arrogant Hart. Or even Lion of the Jojobo."

You tell Druid Crek Ysav'rai, Eye of Crow, "I did not realize."

Crek tells you, "Perhaps you should have asked earlier then."

You tell Druid Crek Ysav'rai, Eye of Crow, "I did. Not you, but I asked Lady Maylea."

You tell Druid Crek Ysav'rai, Eye of Crow, "I thought, at the time, the answer meant that I could change Irk, but I think I understand now what She was trying to make me see."

You tell Druid Crek Ysav'rai, Eye of Crow, "Give me some time, please? Call off the crow hunters and I will...Well, you will get what you want, eventually."

Crek tells you, "I doubt they are specifically hunting Irk except as a target of opportunity. He is relatively safe within the stables."

You tell Druid Crek Ysav'rai, Eye of Crow, "Zoku specifically mentioned killing him. He even tried to bribe me with credits, to let him attack Irk."

Crek tells you, "But I will not call them off. I will not encourage them, but I will not ask them to stop."

Crek tells you, "That is likely Zoku hoping for some reward."

You tell Druid Crek Ysav'rai, Eye of Crow, "Thank you for your time and your explanation."

Crek tells you, "Mmm."

The Kiakodan Community Stables.

Superimposed over this location, an ethereal forest reaches up to the sky. A sign suggests you can use STABLE commands here.

You see a single exit leading south.

You lead a massive, dappled grey crow out of a stall of the Kiakodan Community Stables.

A massive, dappled grey crow desperately needs food!

The crow is massive, an enormous bird with dappled grey feathers and beak. One eye has been scooped out, leaving a dark, empty socket, forcing the crow to constantly cock his head towards whatever catches his interest. The crow's one red eye gazes at you with hatred. Larger than a dog, his wings have a span of over eight feet. He is called 'Irk.'

A massive, dappled grey crow appears to be extraordinarily strong.

Voice quiet and faint, you say to a massive, dappled grey crow, "Hello, Irk."

You have emoted: The crow greets Breandryn with a loud, baleful squawk, his single eye flashing crimson as it catches the light.

You have emoted: Breandryn sighs faintly, leading her menagerie of beasts onwards towards the nature reserves themselves. She pauses at the junction, one hand raising to rest softly against the bird's plumage. The crow's feathers ruffle, and he lets out an irritated squawk, but there's also something else there - it's not quite fondness, but maybe familiarity, or even resignation...whatever the bird's reaction, it is not hostile, or fearful, and he appears to tolerate the girl's presence.

With a slight smile, you say to a massive, dappled grey crow, "How about hunting? Would you like that?"

A fierce timberwolf sniffs at the crow in curiosity, intensely uncomfortable around him as always, while his body tenses, muscles coiled and teeth bared. His gaze shifts between the girl and the crow and, finally, following her lead, he reluctantly relaxes, accepting the bird's presence.

You have emoted: Breandryn frowns over at the wolf, clearly surprised by the behavior. "Greypaw!" she scolds sternly. "Irk is a friend!"

A fierce timberwolf lets out a single, loud snort.

You have emoted: The bird seems to agree with the wolf's assessment, cawing loudly and harshly back at the beast as he waddles alongside Breandryn in a lilting scrabble through the tunnels. As the trio finally reaches the tunnel terminus, the crow lets out another cry, wings spreading to launch him upwards to soar beneath the cavern's high ceiling.

A narrow beach.

Sandwiched between lofty granite cliffs and the dark, cold waves, a narrow spit of golden sand extends. The cliffs are impossibly high, extending far beyond the range of mortal sight, home to seagulls who make their nests in its narrow ledges and soil the dark rock with their excrement. Hackles risen, a fierce timberwolf prowls about here. A massive, dappled grey crow flies here with wings spread.

You see exits leading northeast and southeast.

You have emoted: Breandryn tracks the bird's flight from below, neck craned to watch each twist and swoop the crow makes. A faint, sad smile plays at the corner of her mouth.

A fierce timberwolf sits back on his haunches, weight shifting in the sand until he is comfortable. He then proceeds to ignore the crow, chewing absently on his leg to worry at an itch.

You have emoted: Overhead, the immense crow wheels, his wings casting a shadow large enough to terrify a Furrikin, and he changes direction, swooping idly on updrafts rising off the ocean waters. Down below, Breandryn watches quietly, legs folding beneath her as she sinks into a seat in the sand. Unthinking, perhaps to occupy her hands, she begins to run her fingers through the cold sand, tracing out abstract swirls and swoops which emulate the crow's flight above.

You have emoted: A sharp screech pierces the air - Irk has spotted prey. His wings fold against his body and, remarkably fast, the bird plummets downwards, shooting towards the waters like a bow loosed from an arrow. He plunges into the ocean with barely a splash, with a subsequent swell obscuring his wake. Breandryn shifts her weight, sitting up taller to peer out over the waves.

You have emoted: "Irk?" Breandryn calls out, voice faint and uncertain.

You have emoted: Time passes. To Breandryn it seems agonizingly slow, and her breath catches, but it can't be more than a few heartbeats before a series of splashes break the surface of the ocean, white wings whipping water into white-capped waves. The girl exhales slowly as the crow beats his wings powerfully, propelling himself skywards again.

You have emoted: Breandryn lapses back into pensive silence, watching as the crow soars landwards, a handful of strong wing beats taking him to the sky above the towering cliffs. With a loud screech, the bird circles, feathers fluttering as he finds an updraft to stabilize himself in. He hovers there for a moment, before - barely visible - something is released from his claws, little more than dark specks against the pale granite cliffs.

You have emoted: With that, the crow wheels again, descending down towards the beach. He lands at the base of the cliffs, pecking at the sand, and then claw-walks back towards Breandryn . As he nears, it becomes clear that he's carrying his catch in his beak: shellfish, snagged from the waters and dashed against the rocks to reach the tender meat inside.

You have emoted: Breandryn smiles faintly as the bird approaches. "Clever Irk," she quietly compliments the crow. The beast merely fixes her with a mute, sharp stare, and then turns his attention to his food, head bobbing as he pecks at the shattered shells to pick out slimy, slick pieces of raw scallop and clam, which he slurps down hungrily.

A fierce timberwolf lifts his head as the crow returns, watching the bird warily. Although he remains seated, silent, his stare remains trained on the crow, vigilant, and a faint ripple of muscle beneath his coat belies his tension.

Watching the bird eat, her demeanor melancholy and quiet, you say to a massive, dappled grey crow, "Lady Maylea tried to tell me, didn't She?"

You have emoted: Breandryn draws her legs up to her chest, resting her chin on her knees as she wraps her arms tightly about her. Her eyes close and she sighs. A whisper, lost in the crash of the waves against the sand, escapes her lips. "A crow is part of Crow."

You have emoted: Despite the softness of her words, something catches the crow's attention. He pauses, a wriggling bite of clam hanging out of his beak, and tilts his head to one side, his single eye fixed on Breandryn in a bright, intent stare. His head cants to the other side, and he hops a bit closer to the girl, swallowing the shellfish in a slimy slurp.

You have emoted: Breandryn blinks at the bird, lifting one hand to lightly stroke the feathers near one wing. Irk endures this patiently, before letting out a short caw, as if prompting the girl to continue. She blinks again, and then hazards, "...Crow?" Again, the bird's head tilts, as if studying the Faeling, and he lets out another loud caw.

You have emoted: This seems to confirm Breandryn's fears - her old mentor Crek was truthful. Something in her seems to quietly, slowly shatter, and her hand drops away from the crow, head bowing as her cheeks flush in shame. Blinking back tears, she hoarsely whispers, "...I've been the cruel one, all this time."

You have emoted: The crow ruffles his feathers noncommittally, resuming pecking at the shellfish. He caws again, this time loud and brazen, and his very cry almost seems to shout the word "Crow" - at least to Breandryn's ears. The tears come, now, hot and guilty and angry, as she buries her head in her arms.

A fierce timberwolf creeps closer to the girl, belly-crawling over the cold sand to nudge a wet nose into her back. His stare shifts to the crow and a low, rumbling growl forms in his throat.

You have emoted: Breandryn reaches blindly for the wolf with one arm, sniffling loudly as she wipes at her nose with the other. "I am a bad hunter," she whispers to Greypaw. The wolf whines, obviously confused, but rattled by the girl's emotions. "I have disgraced the forests," she mumbles, voice quiet and guilty. The crow tilts his head again, caws quieted as he studies the girl, before finally hopping forward to drop the last bit of shellfish at her feet.

You have emoted: Breandryn can't help but laugh at that, tearful and snotty and hiccuping, and she shakes her head. "That is yours, Irk," she insists, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. "There are many things that are yours, which I have denied you," she confesses, gaze lifting to look at the crow. The bird stares back, a keen and unnerving intelligence in his eyes. He caws once, succinct, sharp and short, as his head bobs.

You have emoted: This prompts another wave of tears from Breandryn , fingers grasping the wolf's pelt. The bird watches, silent and curious, before quickly pecking at the last bit of clam.

A fierce timberwolf endures the clinging patiently, letting the girl lean against him as a stalwart sort of furry shoulder to cry on.

You have emoted: Breandryn eventually cries herself out, shame and guilt subsiding into a drained, tired numbness. Finally, she slowly nods, head lifting to blearily stare at the crow. "Irk," she hoarsely tells the bird. "Irk, you will die." The crow is silent at this, at first, before his wings flap and he caws again as his head bobs, as if in acceptance of his fate - at least, this is what Breandryn's eyes see, and she mirrors the nod, quietly mumbling, "...I'm sorry, Irk. I'm so sorry..."

You tell Druid Crek Ysav'rai, Eye of Crow, "Can I be with him?"

You tell Druid Crek Ysav'rai, Eye of Crow, "When you do it."

Crek tells you, "You will be the one to slay him."

You tell Druid Crek Ysav'rai, Eye of Crow, "Oh...I don't know-."

Crek tells you, "I would prefer to wait for an observer of importance, if you do not mind."

You tell Druid Crek Ysav'rai, Eye of Crow, "Why me? I've hurt him enough already."

Crek tells you, "You removed him from the Wyrd. You can return him."

You tell Druid Crek Ysav'rai, Eye of Crow, "I...I guess that makes sense."

Crek tells you, "Again, I ask that you wait for this observer. If I have no response from the individual by the weave we may go ahead. Consider this time to be with Irk."

You tell Druid Crek Ysav'rai, Eye of Crow, "Very well."

You have emoted: The crow merely caws again, his sharp-eye stare peering at Breandryn with an unnerving, intelligent intensity. The girl stares back, silent - something unspoken happens here, some sort of communication between bird and bonded, and the tension lifts. Acceptance seems to have been reached. The time for sorrow has passed, and now is for hunting.

You have emoted: Breandryn offers a tentative smile to the crow, whispering, "Come, Irk. Let me show you penguins. They are like you, but weak and silly." Her smile shakily widens. "You will enjoy hunting them."

 

---// Happy farewell hunting time \\---

Crek tells you, "Whenever you are ready."

Weakly, you say to a massive, dappled grey crow, "Ready to go home?"

You tell Druid Crek Ysav'rai, Eye of Crow, "Where shall we meet you?"

Crek tells you, "You may teleport to me now."

Great Southern Highway approaching Glomdoring Forest. (road).

The shadowy outline of a twisted forest casts a dark gloom here. A few light wisps of cloud are spread high in the sky. Druid Crek Ysav'rai, Eye of Crow is here, surrounded by whispering, insubstantial figures that fade in and out of existence. He wields a blackened iron kite shield in his left hand and a mystic cudgel in his right.

You bow respectfully to Crek.

Crek nods his head at you.

Druid Crek Ysav'rai, Eye of Crow says, "We may do so here. I had thought you might prefer this to be a private matter so I will not invite the commune."

A fierce timberwolf sniffs at you suspiciously, a low growl forming in his throat.

You have emoted: Breandryn raises a hand, laying it on the wolf's side. "Not enemy," she murmurs to the wolf, and then nods at you. Behind her, the crow tilts his head to one side, curiously studying you with his one eye.

Crek crosses his arms expectantly.

You have emoted: Breandryn looks over at the crow, and then back to you. Quietly, she asks, "Does he really have to die?"

Druid Crek Ysav'rai, Eye of Crow says, "There are alternatives, certainly."

Druid Crek Ysav'rai, Eye of Crow says to you, "You could return to the Wyrd. This time within the Serenwilde will be forgotten."

Druid Crek Ysav'rai, Eye of Crow says, "You could perhaps find some Divine willing to intercede with the Fates and have Irk rewoven entirely. I am sure that will cost you something."

You have emoted: Breandryn's expression lifts a bit, at least at first. Once you state the alternatives, her frown returns and her eyes close. "But he would no longer be Irk?" she questions.

Crek nods his head affirmatively.

Druid Crek Ysav'rai, Eye of Crow says, "Irk the crow must return to the Wyrd or find a new self."

Druid Crek Ysav'rai, Eye of Crow says, "So long as he remains outside his homeland, you are forcing an unnatural existence upon him."

A fierce timberwolf tilts back his head in a low, resonant howl.

Druid Crek Ysav'rai, Eye of Crow says, "Returning to the Weave and becoming reborn is the surest and most pure method. I doubt you seek a return to the Glomdoring."

You have emoted: Breandryn's eyes remain closed, as her brow knits together in deep thought. It's clear she's torn between saving the bird, and her loyalty to her new home, and a frustrated expression gradually creeps over her features. Finally, she sighs deeply, admitting, "...I am selfish. I can't return here, no."

Faintly, you say, "If I did, I would have Irk, but only Irk. It's too much to ask."

Crek grunts noncommitally.

You have emoted: Breandryn turns to face the bird, lightly stroking the plumage of one wing. She blinks a few times, doing her best to hide the forming tears, doing her best to appear strong, as she whispers, "I'm sorry, Irk."

Druid Crek Ysav'rai, Eye of Crow says, "Then Irk will continue to be denied his birthright. I feel pity for your crow. He will never know what he was intended for. He may not be capable of expressing such, but you hurt him."

A fierce timberwolf tilts back his head in a low, resonant howl.

Uncertainly, you say to Crek, "I will do what you ask. I will..."

You have emoted: Breandryn trails off, shaking her head. She can't say it aloud, but she does ask, "Is there a way it needs to be done?"

Druid Crek Ysav'rai, Eye of Crow says, "He must truly die. I do not care for pomp and circumstance, only results."

Druid Crek Ysav'rai, Eye of Crow says, "Unless he has been sufficiently weakened Irk will return to the stables you have him housed in."

A fierce timberwolf paces about uneasily, slowly circling the two of you as his eyes scan the road.

Crek crosses his arms expectantly.

You have emoted: Breandryn turns to the bird, hand shaking. "I'm sorry," she repeats again. The crow merely tilts his head, studying the girl.

You have emoted: Breandryn bends down, retrieving a small knife from a sheathe sewn to her boot. For all her hesitation, when she finally acts, it's swift, decisive and merciful - she holds the crow by the neck, slicing down his breast to form a hole large enough for her hand. Quickly, she reaches her fingers in, pinching the artery.

You have emoted: As blood flow cuts off to his heart, the bird swoons, quietly and quickly falling to the ground in a mass of bloodied feathers. His wings fitfully flap once, twice, stirring up the dust, and then the bird stills. Breandryn turns to you, a grim expression on her face.

You have slain a massive, dappled grey crow.

A massive, dappled grey crow, your loyal companion, has been slain by Serenguard Breandryn, Warden of the Moonhart.

A massive, dappled grey crow shimmers and fades away from sight.

A massive, dappled grey crow has lost a level.

Druid Crek Ysav'rai, Eye of Crow says, "This was not a true death."

You have emoted: Blood drains from Breandryn's face. "I have to...again?" she stammers.

Druid Crek Ysav'rai, Eye of Crow sighs, "I suppose we will try again later."

Wanly, you say, "All right."

Druid Crek Ysav'rai, Eye of Crow says, "The stable-hands will not allow you to pull the creature out of his stable until he is recovered."

You have emoted: Breandryn nods faintly, bending into a half-hearted bow.

Crek tells you, "Hunt well, lost k'z'lia."

Breandryn

---// Insert death montage. \\----

Mostly just a lot of solo RP and follow-up with various folks. First kill here as an example: http://pastebin.com/ZgLkdGGW

Brea returns to kill Irk again after this, this time using traps to snare him and subdue him. The next death after this is even more brutal, and she begins to become very sensitive to violence and internally wracked by the pull between duty, her own happiness, and guilt over what she is doing to the crow. She begins to starve him. Finally, unsure what to do, but certain that she can't endure if things continue as they are, Brea steps down from Champion and prepares to move to Glomdoring to ensure that the crow, at least, will be happy. Moments later, she meets Xypher. They speak of her dreams, of duty, and of Irk, and she finds herself uncertain about everything and returns to Serenwilde with new perspectives. Finally, after a lot of roleplay with a lot of people, she is ready (at last! Sorry for taking so long!) to finish her task for the Blacktalon.

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Edith:

She is an ordinary human demigoddess covered with black feathers and is a demure appearing demidivine. Her mien unassuming yet held in regal poise, she stands five and a half feet in height. Raven locks tumble in waves to the square of her back like a river of night, delicate threads of spidersilk that glisten with beads of dew woven throughout. Her opaline skin is unnaturally smooth, more like marble than flesh and possessed of a subtle sepulchral bloom. Small clusters of thin purple veins stand in contrast against her skin, primarily along her hairline, eyes, and chest, and appear to shift in the peripheral but remain motionless when focused upon. Coiled upon her right arm is a thin vine wreathed in thorns that pierce her soft flesh, the punctures permanently glistening with her blood. Sprouting from beneath the skin of her left forearm, a myriad of wyrden flowers of all sizes wind their way toward her wrist, exuding thick scents of the forest that shroud her in a permanent perfume. Perhaps her most striking feature, the demigoddess' large almond eyes pierce the world around her. A stunning ethereal emerald in colour, rimmed in gold and framed by a curtain of black eyelashes, they sparkle with a coy wisdom that betrays her demeanour. Her figure is slight, yet not without the curves of femininity. Her limbs are long and slender and her fingernails kept short and practical, opposite to the curved ebony talons that tip her bare feet. Akin to the crow, the talons are smooth and polished in appearance, their sharp tip glinting in available light. Her thin lips rival the newly bloomed rose in their colour. Oft held together, the image of a vicious looking beak occasionally flickers into view in their place, sometimes transparent, sometimes solid, but no less dangerous looking in either. ~~*~~. Her face is painted with a bone nose. She is wearing 4 silver stackable rings inlaid with black amethyst gemstones, a Shee-Slaugh House pendant, a dapper, fawn-banded black felt hat, an elegant black crinoline gown with a corseted bodice, an exquisite white fox stole, a circlet of the Shee-Slaugh house, a wyrden lyrebird backpack, 2 eight-eyed ruby spider rings, an intricate charm bracelet of the wyrden woods, a woven bracelet of thorns, an onyx and silver trefoil lapel pin, a floor-length purple damask coat lined with rabbit fur, a mystic charm and a silver torc. Tattooed on her wrists is an illustration of a black rose braceleted by a red-thorned stem.

Edith gathers the folds of her gown in her hands and dips her head politely, performing an elegant curtsey of enviable poise.

Edith Shee-Slaugh turns her gaze to you.

You have emoted: Breandryn's eyes open to find Edith standing before her. Her smile fades, wings drooping inwards to cup her shoulders.

D'Oiliea Edith Shee-Slaugh whispers to you, "Are you ready to resolve the issue, Chaote?"

In a quiet whisper, you say to Tristanna, "Goodbye, for now. I have to go murder my first friend."

Remmiel creases his brow in a frown.

Seren Brave Remmiel says, "Wait."

Slips a hand around Remmiel's arm to tug him toward the shops, Tristanna Myeras says to you, "That sounds... nice. But we have to go."

Remmiel's lips curl down into a frown and he says, "Why...do you need to kill your friend?"

You have emoted: Breandryn nods quietly, falling into line behind Edith. She looks back at Remmiel, ear twitching in question.

You follow D'Oiliea Edith Shee-Slaugh to a nest in the aether.

Edith chews on her lip, deep in thought.

You have emoted: Breandryn looks up at you, a shiver prickling her skin. Her mood change is sudden and swift, color leeching out of her hair as she pales.

D'Oiliea Edith Shee-Slaugh whispers, "I thought perhaps to take you to the ethereal - but it is best not to guide you by the Ravenwood, lest the guards be enraged."

Softly, you say, "He's in the stable. At Kiakoda. Should I go bring him?"

Comprehension flashes across Edith's face.

D'Oiliea Edith Shee-Slaugh whispers, "We will travel there and return."

You follow D'Oiliea Edith Shee-Slaugh north to the Kiakodan Community Stables. 

D'Oiliea Edith Shee-Slaugh whispers to you, "Come now. Hesitation shall only heighten the pain."

You have emoted: As the two of you enter, a faint caw floats out from the furthest stall. Breandryn's eyes close and she leads you to the back of the stables in silence, hesitating anxiously. You speak, and she nods, carefully unlatching a tall door. Talon marks furrow the wood in deep gouges, while patches of blood darken the straw. Inside, cowering and cawing in soft mewls, is an emaciated and broken crow, barely more than a shivering chick.

Pulling the bulk of her hair over one shoulder, Edith lifts her chin slightly to gaze at the crow with soft neutrality, running her fingers across her neck.

D'Oiliea Edith Shee-Slaugh whispers, "Very well, then. Let us return."

You follow D'Oiliea Edith Shee-Slaugh to a nest in the aether.

A nest in the aether.

The shadowy outline of a twisted forest casts a dark gloom here. Druidic magic is evident in this aetheric place. Stretching out under foot is the base of a giant nest, at least forty feet in circumference, its surrounding wall closer to five feet. Large branches of blackthorn trees have been stacked, intertwined, and lain against each other in the construction of this nest, bound together with thick ropes of green vines adorned in curved, red thorns. Inky black feathers with a gentle sheen litter the floor, mixed amongst torn strips of amethyst silk and ivory cloth, softening every footfall and providing comfort and warmth. Bursting over the top of the nest wall, and climbing high toward the perpetual night sky unblemished by moon or star, full boughs thick with leaves block sight into the distance, the occasional breeze of unknown origin carrying loose foliage into the welcoming nest. A stark throne of pale, ghostly marble stands forbiddingly over the room, overwrought with creeping shadow. Covered in bone armour, a furry tarantula crouches here, ready to pounce on unsuspecting prey. Regally surveying his surroundings, a stainless steel maned lion with shattered, ragged wings stalks here. D'Oiliea Edith Shee-Slaugh is here, surrounded by whispering, insubstantial figures that fade in and out of existence. She wields a glowing powerstone in her left hand and a mystic cudgel in her right. You see a sign here instructing you to use the PORTAL command to enter the aetherplex system.

There are no obvious exits.

Edith closes her eyes and inhales deeply, absorbing the scent of her surroundings.

You have emoted: Breandryn carefully carries the crow as she follows along beside you - although diminished in size and strength from his trials, Irk is still nearly as large as her, and his talons and wing tips drag woefully along behind the pair.

Edith moves elegantly into the nest, moving over the uneven surface of bones and fabric with practised ease. Turning, she one more turns her emerald gaze to Irk, before meeting your eyes.

Her hushed words hanging momentarily in the air, D'Oiliea Edith Shee-Slaugh whispers, "The duty that falls before us now, is one that pains us both. Crows are creatures dear to my heart, to my Mistress, and to the Great Spirit I learn from."

You have emoted: "Shh," Breandryn soothingly chatters away to the bird, voice soft and attention distracted. She lightly strokes her finger along his feathered face, assuring him, "It's almost done and then you will fly and fly and fly with your family." The bird blink back up at her - this has taken too long. Something has broken in him, and he manages only a soft, mournful caw. The girl's eyes close at this, tears trailing down her face, and she nods firmly at your words.

Softly, you say, "It will make him happy, that's what Crek said, that's true, isn't it?"

Edith smiles softly in a way that doesn't quite meet her eyes. As the thorned vine upon her arm shifts in its embrace, sending a crimson tear of blood to run down her pale skin, she whispers, "Indeed, Chaote. Crows belong with the K'lian'lom, and the Murder. To remove him from such detaches him from all that he is, and should be. This is mercy."

You have emoted: "Irk doesn't understand that," Breandryn whispers, bending to carefully lay the crow down on the soft floor of the nest. The bird shivers, one wing slowly raising and falling, and the girl drops to her knees beside him, doing her best to ease his suffering. Wide eyes look up to you, fearful and anxious, as she asks, "What do I do now? How do I end it?"

Edith turns to Irk, reaching out to stroke his beak with her left hand. As she guides him away from your side to hers, the fragrance of the wyrden flora blooming from her flesh is cast into the air, dancing beneath your senses. "A crow without its murder is nothing. He is lost, weak, and lesser. This must be done."

D'Oiliea Edith Shee-Slaugh whispers, "It is with the blessing of the beauteous Viravain I perform this otherwise heinous act. This crow shall be removed from its wayward path."

Edith draws herself up and lifts her chin haughtily. Swiftly, she raises her cudgel toward the crow and in an instant, a swarm of wasps remove the crow from sight. The noise of their wings does nothing to stifle the agonized caws of the dying creature, as it throws itself into the air. Chased by the swarm, overwhelmed in an endless barage of poisoned stingers, the crow quickly falls to the ground. As the wasps disperse, the silence is deafening in contrast to the cacophony but seconds ago, as the bleeding corpse of the crow comes into view.

You have emoted: The crow feebly lifts his head as you pass him, something within your touch, your smell, this nest awakening a long-lost instinct deep inside. He caws softly. Breandryn shivers. His voice has changed, all of his suffering and torment now underlined by something stronger, deeper, richer, bloodthirsty and piercing. Reality shimmers for a heartbeat, the girl's emotions and sudden surge of fear shaking her novice control over her new skills, and for a moment the bird appears to rise, dark and terrifying and powerful, a dream of Brother Crow himself manifesting for a moment - but then you act, wasps swarming, and he is cut down, cry spiralling into silence.

Edith lowers her cudgel slowly, taking a deep breath before turning from the broken corpse coldly. "You may take it, if you so wish."

You have emoted: Breandryn finds herself unable to look away from the corpse, hands clenched into little fists as she reflexively rocks back and forth. Your voice pulls her back from wherever sad, lonely place her mind went, and she starts in surprise, eventually nodding.

You have emoted: Breandryn carefully, lovingly gathers the bird's broken body into her arms, slowly standing. "Thank you," she mumbles, eyes downcast. "Will...will it be ok if I bury him? That won't stop him from being reborn, will it?"

Edith pulls her hair across her face, partially veiling it from sight as what was perhaps a wry smile began to tweak at the corners of her mouth. In her hushed tone, she whispers, "Of course not, dear. He will still be reborn."

You have emoted: Breandryn nods solemnly at that, oblivious to your reaction. Instead, she continues to stare at the bird's body, softly petting the bloodied features. "Will I know, if I see him again?" she suddenly asks, a note of hope cutting bright through her sorrow.

D'Oiliea Edith Shee-Slaugh whispers, "Perhaps. Who can say, for sure."

You have emoted: You didn't say no. That seems to be enough for Breandryn - she manages a weak, tentative smile, and softly says, "Thank you." She flushes, adding, "I am very sorry to Irk and Brother Crow and the Blacktalon for the pain I caused."

Edith inhales deeply, before throwing her hair over her shoulder once more and turning to you with a soft smile, quite as though you were not struggling under the weight of a bleeding corpse. "I shall inform the Eye that you have performed the task set to you."

Her eyes twinkling gently, D'Oiliea Edith Shee-Slaugh whispers, "K'ian Doim and Doim'ur are strong. All is well, now."

You have emoted: Breandryn hugs the corpse closer to her chest, quietly navigating her way out of the nest, wings dropping and ears sadly downcast.

Crek has forgiven you of enemy status to the Great Spirit of Crow.

You tell Druid Crek Ysav'rai, Eye of Crow, "Thank you, once-mentor."

-----

This all took several weeks, with lots of people offering quick moments of advice and help and fun RP. Thank you all the cool RPers who took the time to play with me along the way!

Rideta

That's such a lovely story. It really amazing to know all of this went down behind the scenes otherwise - I only knew that you had a crow, and Glom wanted it dead. This is so much better.

Tremula

All of this was so incredibly well-written and thought out. I could really feel the love Breandryn had for Irk, and I admit I teared up a little bit at the end. So many props to you. Just...oh my gods, so many.

Breandryn

Oh thank you both and I'm glad you enjoyed it! I was nervous to post it because it felt very much about just me, but tons of people interacted with me because of the story this led me on. 

I think the coolest part of it all was how automagically and organically everything seemed to fall into place. For example, my favorite moment was when Xypher and Brea officially became friends, sealed with friendship bracelets, making him her first real-person friend. Edith sent me a tell literally 30 seconds after that happened, asking about Irk, who was Breandryn's first "friend"  - those two factors together created a really nice moment of epiphany.

Edith

I am so happy to have been a part of this story of yours. While i performed the final scene, I hope I did it in a way you found enjoyable to play out. Loved reading the parts I wasn't there for! #ripirk #gonebutnotforgotten ^_^

Breandryn

You were the perfect ending. I'm so glad I waited and roleplayed this out. Thank you so much!!!