stonegod
Spawn of Khyber/LEB Judge
The Telling: The Final Question
And waiting for.
She looks Ashlyn in the eyes, her gaze reflecting all in the room except herself. Her words are measured, precise. I tell you this now and only once, for after this telling Madam Eva answers no more. You meddle in skeins near old as the earth itself, and it has caught many a noble soul. Already, you have lost many and more will be gone from you before it is done. When you go to the Castle, some will die.
Ashlyn or Jarrith may have started to say something. The smirk on Marot's faces may have be the beginning of words, but Madam Eva silences them with a glance. She was to have none of it. Glancing meaningfully at them all, she closes her eyes, beginning the ritual. The deck has been touched by no other than ye, Lady of the Sword, and this be your last telling. The answer to what you seek is already before you.
She removes her hand from the card on the table. A baleful eye glares out from it, its power palpable.
The Master of the Castle is powerful, a once-man whose enemy is light and whose power transcends death itself. You will seek him in the Castle, and though he may find you many times, you will find him but once. Placing her hand on the deck, she swiftly draws another card and places it over the first. It is clear her hand is starting to tremble.
Her eyes are still closed, her voice clenched, focusing on her trance. You shall seek him on his throne of old. As the Castle was once the seat of its kingdom, you shall find its only king there. The power of good will ward you here, but only once, only when the wards are broken. Her hands now with a noticeable palsy, she grips the final card, and pulls it from the deck with a hiss, smoke clearly coming from it. She places it across the cards, the sign of the future.
Eyes closed in trance, black blood weeping freely now, she struggles with the final words of the telling. Out of darkness and chaos, this final card finds its reason and foundation. It shows the purpose of all things—the key to the life and death and else beyond. She takes a ragged breath, then continues. The darkness gathers its strength, seeking allies both light and dark, and strikes out against those that would replace it. Another breath, this one wet. All the cards smolder now, their acrid stench like old death. The Master turned those that would stop him against each other, pitting his greatest foes against his greatest rival. Already they have stopped the dark witch, turned the maddened wolf to him, and given him the keys to the wards. All that remains is for them to deliver him she... who will rule... by his... side!
As Madam Eva finishes the last words, she screams as the cards flare in a dark fire. Her eyes fling open as she pulls back her scorched hands. Soon, nothing is left of her cards but ash. None from the camp come to her.
Madam Eva looks haggard, her face more withered, almost more feral at the same time. Whatever she had done, it had cost her.
Her voice weak, she addresses the gathered. It is done. I have done all that has been compelled of me, served who I must. I can answer no more. Leave Madam Eva to her fate.
Madam Eva's shoulders slump as a great rattling sigh escapes her. It is then that the gathered catch a brief glimpse of her age, seeming beyond many mortal lifetimes. It is fleeting, not much more than a ghostly illusion, but this was a question she was most certainly dreading."How do we defeat the great evil that plagues this land?"
And waiting for.
She looks Ashlyn in the eyes, her gaze reflecting all in the room except herself. Her words are measured, precise. I tell you this now and only once, for after this telling Madam Eva answers no more. You meddle in skeins near old as the earth itself, and it has caught many a noble soul. Already, you have lost many and more will be gone from you before it is done. When you go to the Castle, some will die.
Ashlyn or Jarrith may have started to say something. The smirk on Marot's faces may have be the beginning of words, but Madam Eva silences them with a glance. She was to have none of it. Glancing meaningfully at them all, she closes her eyes, beginning the ritual. The deck has been touched by no other than ye, Lady of the Sword, and this be your last telling. The answer to what you seek is already before you.
She removes her hand from the card on the table. A baleful eye glares out from it, its power palpable.
The Master of the Castle is powerful, a once-man whose enemy is light and whose power transcends death itself. You will seek him in the Castle, and though he may find you many times, you will find him but once. Placing her hand on the deck, she swiftly draws another card and places it over the first. It is clear her hand is starting to tremble.
Her eyes are still closed, her voice clenched, focusing on her trance. You shall seek him on his throne of old. As the Castle was once the seat of its kingdom, you shall find its only king there. The power of good will ward you here, but only once, only when the wards are broken. Her hands now with a noticeable palsy, she grips the final card, and pulls it from the deck with a hiss, smoke clearly coming from it. She places it across the cards, the sign of the future.
Eyes closed in trance, black blood weeping freely now, she struggles with the final words of the telling. Out of darkness and chaos, this final card finds its reason and foundation. It shows the purpose of all things—the key to the life and death and else beyond. She takes a ragged breath, then continues. The darkness gathers its strength, seeking allies both light and dark, and strikes out against those that would replace it. Another breath, this one wet. All the cards smolder now, their acrid stench like old death. The Master turned those that would stop him against each other, pitting his greatest foes against his greatest rival. Already they have stopped the dark witch, turned the maddened wolf to him, and given him the keys to the wards. All that remains is for them to deliver him she... who will rule... by his... side!
As Madam Eva finishes the last words, she screams as the cards flare in a dark fire. Her eyes fling open as she pulls back her scorched hands. Soon, nothing is left of her cards but ash. None from the camp come to her.
Madam Eva looks haggard, her face more withered, almost more feral at the same time. Whatever she had done, it had cost her.
Her voice weak, she addresses the gathered. It is done. I have done all that has been compelled of me, served who I must. I can answer no more. Leave Madam Eva to her fate.