Neverwinter Forest warden
472 Posts
Ooc — anonymous
Offline
#1
Private 
the listener sought @Ingram II under a moonbright and star-jeweled sky, laden with words meant only for her grim. the hour of their pilgrimage was almost upon them. grim must hear his listener's decree, and choose his path.

trikova carried a feverish aura when they came to him, eyes alight with felfire. tonight, their bond would become more; blessed by the unnamed god. tonight, grim would be bound to his listener forever.
Loner
godkiller; bleeding golden ichor
733 Posts
Ooc — delaney
Warrior
Seer
Offline
#2
though a part of ingram worries at lingering so close to where ursus has settled โ€” and does not forget the unknown pack that borders the southern edge of the forest of neverwinter โ€” he does not think merrick was interested in giving chase. for he had not and had the perfect opportunity upon their departure.

still, he keeps a unwavering eye upon them in self-given patrols all the same. it eases the worst of his instinctive concerns and allows him to sleep when fatigue grips him.

it is during one of these sweeps of the forest's southern edge that trikova finds him. her approaching footfalls draws his attention in the soft swivel of his ears but he does not entirely cease in his patrol โ€” though he does slow โ€” until she catches up; when he greets her with his unyielding attention and a low rumble of affection in his throat.

magick, threadbone reading & 'godhood' is to be taken purely with a grain of salt and are written to be creations of ingram's imagination and religious faith.
sold my soul for a cigarette
472 Posts
Ooc — anonymous
Offline
#3
grim, the listener greeted, canines clipping dark ear as she swept round ingram once, then twice as he slowed. settling into a skulking pace at his side, the prophet leaned in close to whisper the will of god for their acolyte to hear... and obey.

keeper. you are chosen, the void-priest began, in tones as ancient and weathered as the beginning of creation itself. to hold secrets of listener, secrets of druids. to guard secrets in life and beyond. to be mine, even in absence of flesh.

the woods shimmered with magick. the stars reflected in the listener's spirit-kissed gaze.
Loner
godkiller; bleeding golden ichor
733 Posts
Ooc — delaney
Warrior
Seer
Offline
#4
trikova. ingram rasps her name at the clip of her teeth against his ear as she circles him. despite that he keeps to a slow, leisurely pace as he methodically walks the nature made borders of neverwinter, his attention is zeroed in to her and the words she whispers to him. her tone causes a soft shiver to slither down his spine; at the soft and divine commands.

it did not sound like a question; but even if it was surely trikova already knew his answer even before he rumbles it โ€”

always โ€” ingram slides his tongue across his jowls. i am yours, trikova. he affirms and thus accepts the title of 'keeper', glimpsing at her over his shoulder.

magick, threadbone reading & 'godhood' is to be taken purely with a grain of salt and are written to be creations of ingram's imagination and religious faith.
sold my soul for a cigarette
472 Posts
Ooc — anonymous
Offline
#5
always.

the listener tasted peace, delicate and fleeting as a thin dusting of snow.

you will know no peace in this life, listener.

the illusion shattered. the listener drew away, beckoning. the unnamed god waited for none; grim's initiation would begin now. through the woods she weaved, taking her sworn guardian to that place where she had gathered the crushed remnants of morgana's offering, bundling the mushrooms in leaves marked safe by the speaker.

the listener disappeared among the foliage for a few silent heartbeats, and emerged with the leaf-wrapping.

spirits call, they explained, hushed, when they had laid the bundle before the keeper. you will rest after. you will need it lurked heavy behind the words; no work of magick came without cost.
Loner
godkiller; bleeding golden ichor
733 Posts
Ooc — delaney
Warrior
Seer
Offline
#6
dutifully, ingram follows trikova as she leads the way, his weaving through the woods lacking the ethereal grace and elegance of the listener. his steps are heavy like the march of a soldier's not keen on hiding his presence. no, it was not his way. enemies would know he was coming, he would use his approaching presence as a fear tactic as those of his bloodline had used theirs.

his steps slow to a halt and he waits patiently as she disappears and returns with a leaf-wrapping clutched bewtixt her jaws.

he studies the bundle as she deposits it at his paws; leathery black nostrils flaring as he sniffs at it cautiously. she speaks to him of spirits calling as he nudges the bundle apart, the leaf wrapping revealing its contents to him.

he assumes he is to consume the mushrooms; especially with her warning of rest that he would receive after hanging heavy in the air.

eager to prove himself: to her, to the god of many faces, to the spirits.

and so, ingram consumes until ( if ) trikova tells him to stop and searches her mismatched gaze for guidance on what was to follow, for this was uncharted waters for him.

magick, threadbone reading & 'godhood' is to be taken purely with a grain of salt and are written to be creations of ingram's imagination and religious faith.
sold my soul for a cigarette
472 Posts
Ooc — anonymous
Offline
#7
only one, the listener gave hushed guidance as their keeper took a mushroom between his teeth. you will see otherworld, land of ancestor spirits. you will hear whispers.

after a time, the prophet continued, for the minds of mortals untouched by the god were wont to tumble from the winding path to the otherworld and into chaos. thus, trikova became both pathfinder and shepherd to her follower, her original companion, as she felt the time for guidance come upon them.

beyond end of land, we will find home; harsh, beautiful, blessed, the listener circled the keeper with a slow, slinking gait, hackles rippling with the dark energies in the air. land of druids. our land. we will make alliances, and know secrets of others. old ways will live again.

do you see it? do you hear them?

keeper. you will stay at my side. you will keep secrets of listener, secrets of unnamed god. you will lie. you will sacrifice. you will kill.


and one day, you will die, and become eternal.
Loner
godkiller; bleeding golden ichor
733 Posts
Ooc — delaney
Warrior
Seer
Offline
#8
it does not take long for the haze to creep over his eyes; to his mind, a flowing magic that sparked with energy and shadows like the sky bleeding starshine and spilling ink upon the earth; consuming. ingram's seaglass gaze darts around the spirits as they take shape in the midst, pale shadows compared to the starshine that appeared to glow from within trikova.

her voice lilts to him as she circles; her words seeping into his soul, into his bones.

among the shadows of his ancestors he looks for praimfaya ...but her spirit is gone. reincarnated as it was foretold.

fragheda, fragheda, fragheda โ€”

they whisper like an eerie chant, their voices dying out as trikova's rises.

stay at her side. kill. lie. keep. sacrifice.

wanlida. bringer of death.

wankepa. keeper of death.

i will. ingram rasps. yes, it was what he was built for. trikova's circling around him keeps the piercing gazes of his ancestors at bay...but he bristled at their judging, the weight of his oath settling comfortably on his shoulders. i will be by your side in this life and in death. i will keep the secrets and kill and sacrifice and lie. whatever you ask of me. whatever the unnamed god asks of me.

magick, threadbone reading & 'godhood' is to be taken purely with a grain of salt and are written to be creations of ingram's imagination and religious faith.
sold my soul for a cigarette
472 Posts
Ooc — anonymous
Offline
#9
in silence, the keeper took his fated burden upon ashen shoulders. under sacred moonlight and the watchful gaze of the unnamed god, ingram was transformed.

the listener marveled at the strength of her chosen, shivering with the remembered bone-chill of the otherworld. his eyes were glazed, yet he swore his oath; his hackles flared, and he stood tall. mortal, but blessed. harrowed, and yet...

the unnamed god had asked of him only what could be given. all of it, but no more. ingram was strong. chosen.

now, you are part of me, in this world and otherworld.

the listener laid a kiss upon her keeper's brow. tell me words of spirits, the prophet commanded, even knowing that it did not matter, not in comparison. the words of spirits were nothing against the words of a god.
Loner
godkiller; bleeding golden ichor
733 Posts
Ooc — delaney
Warrior
Seer
Offline
#10
you get my 100th post! <3

even in the haze of the high that takes ingram on a journey unlike any he has ever had before, he hears trikova ...even if her voice sounds distorted, coming at him from all sides though he can feel her presence on one side of him. he shudders at her first words, a low growl of contentment rumbling in his throat. he is her's in and and every way that she and the unnamed god demanded of him.

his heart stutters out an even rhythm at the kiss he feels placed upon his brow; a touch that feels more heightened to ingram because of the adrenaline and hallucinogen already coursing through his veins.

fragheda. killer of commanders. though this comes as no surprise to him. they'd been whispering it to him in his dreams since he'd committed matricide. he is unfazed. it might've been a slight of his ancestors but he bore it with pride. maybe praimfaya was a better commander than she was a mother โ€” ingram didn't know and hadn't cared.

wanlida. bringer of death. he'd uttered it once to the bear โ€” no the face of the god โ€” but there was something else with that title. something about it that fit into a piece of his soul; a rightfulness that he cannot explain. like it had belonged to him in another life perhaps, despite that that this is the only life he knows. but it wasn't uncommon for the belief that spirits of the commander(s) were reborn it was possible, he manages to think even if the thoughts are jumbled and incoherent and do not connect with a conciseness that they normally would.

wankepa. for him, he decides. keeper of death. his ancestors do not speak to him anymore than those three titles; flitting about like bodiless will o' wisps; their ghostly gazes boring into his soul, betraying nothing but what he perceives them to show.

magick, threadbone reading & 'godhood' is to be taken purely with a grain of salt and are written to be creations of ingram's imagination and religious faith.
sold my soul for a cigarette
472 Posts
Ooc — anonymous
Offline
#11
the spirits gave the keeper many names, and through them the listener saw the ancient roots of his soul. through them, past and future melded into one long whispered chorus. your soul is old, ingram, the listener told him, seeing endless battle reflected in his eyes. a war that would never be won, fought again and again. spirits give you many names. but unnamed god gives only one, sacred name. you will hear only when your end comes. on the day of your death, faithful keeper, you will know your true self.

turn away from spirits now, wankepa, or they will keep you forever, the listener commanded, sensing that the time for rest was close at hand. the keeper would come into his power, in time; their pilgrimage waited.

congratulations! fade soon & we can have a new one? <3
Loner
godkiller; bleeding golden ichor
733 Posts
Ooc — delaney
Warrior
Seer
Offline
#12
sounds good! this can be my last post in this thread. <3

your soul is old, ingram.

yes, he thinks with a low hum of affirmation; a haunting noise that dances in his ears alone from his ancestors. yes. the acknowledgment resounds within him like the low, heady thrum of a wardrum. he is himself ...but he is more, too.

his heart sprints within his chest as the wall of ancestors; haunting will-o-wisps lurch forward; hissing words that threaten drown out trikova's own. but her command takes root and guides him back to the realm of the living.

ingram's head spins and bile creeps up his throat and he lurches away from her to throw up; emptying his stomach of its contents. his body shudders and he feels the strength rapidly siphoning from his muscles, his head and tongue heavy.

he desires rest โ€” would love nothing more than to collapse into a heap and sleep away the remaining vestiges of high โ€” but looks to trikova for approval beforehand.

when she gave it ( be it here or elsewhere ) he would do just as he envisioned: curl upon the ground and fall into a peaceful slumber until he awoke.

magick, threadbone reading & 'godhood' is to be taken purely with a grain of salt and are written to be creations of ingram's imagination and religious faith.
sold my soul for a cigarette
472 Posts
Ooc — anonymous
Offline
#13
a question in his sharp blue eyes, then; an unspoken want. the listener pressed dark nose to pale temple, murmuring, you have done well, praise, and dismissal; tonight they would receive no more from the realm of spirits, weak as the tether was under the shadow of the mountain of the bear cult.

many hours would pass before the keeper roused again. he would find the listener at his side, a fresh kill at his feet, and the beginning of a long, winding journey waiting for him.