Author Topic: ∞ Rebirth: Variel de la Croix - A Journal [Complete] ∞  (Read 2840 times)

emptyanima

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∞ Rebirth: Variel de la Croix - A Journal [Complete] ∞
« on: July 15, 2014, 09:12:55 AM »
Click image for portrait link.

Name: Variel de la Croix
Age: 20 Yrs.
Race: Human
Wizard/Changed Woman
Origin: Cormyr, Faerun



"Men are always willing to believe two things about a woman; one, that she is weak, and two, that she finds him attractive."  Morrigan - Dragon Age: Origins


Pretty - kidneythieves (Variel's Theme)
« Last Edit: December 04, 2015, 04:52:05 AM by emptyanima »

emptyanima

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I
« Reply #1 on: July 15, 2014, 09:23:42 AM »
[This journal is written in Chondathan.]

These pages are virginal. At least, they were, until I put quill to paper. Ah, how quickly innocence is snatched away by a single blemish. I spent far too much of my life mourning its loss, rather than embracing what comes afterwards - experience, knowledge...

I have embraced my talents all the more, been in deep study, locked myself away for days. I can now summon powers beyond those I dared imagine before. Creatures which I once deemed impossible to overthrow have bent to my talents.

Ha, worthless, was I? Needy, couldn't do a thing without you? I have your ashes still, Kohaku. Who is the useless one now? I only regret that I was not the one who rendered you as dust.

Ah, dust. My clothes are still carrying about motes from the desert graves which I assisted in plundering. And did I fall? Not once. Nothing even touched me.

And yet, it is not enough. I must offer my thanksgiving to the one by whose grace I am Variel.

And thus, an offering must be given.
« Last Edit: October 19, 2014, 05:36:47 AM by emptyanima »

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II
« Reply #2 on: August 06, 2014, 07:40:03 AM »
As expected, my first true test, a venture without the Knight and his obscenely talented companion, went well, on my part at least. Those Curst were prostrate before us in second death. I had heard much of their great skill, as swordsmen and sneaks, and while it is a magical marvel that their lifeless limbs can move with such quickness and precision, they were no match for passion, the vitality and pleasure of the incantations leaving trembling lips, the gentle breath before impact, the smooth dance of the mage's hands, precise and well-rehearsed to cause the most pain. Arcane motes snaked from my fingertips, in steady streams or in a hailstorm of magics, finding their targets with a satisfying crash. There was a second wizard, a she-elf named Myrcella, and she was also highly-skilled, and a wit to boot. I've no doubt in saying that without us, those encased in steel and brandishing more brute weapons would have failed utterly.

Of course, with such... talent, came foolish comments and thoughtlessness. Either their helmets inhibit their hearing (which is foolish and dangerous) or they simply did not listen, and suffered for it. Having given ample warning of my intentions prior, I began an incantation for a scintillating sphere of lightening, but as the gestures were almost complete, one began the charge, and was thus caught in the attack. He grumbled incessantly about the dangers of magic, the same magic upon he relied for his quickness, increased strength and his position halfway between what is visible and what is invisible, making him far harder to touch with the blade. Another was dismissive - the group was quite large, and all wanted a taste of the power magic can grant. As such, most of my spell components were given over to their protection, leaving me with little space for the true devastation I can unleash, and it was the same for Myrcella. The phrase 'sitting ducks' was thrown about. He mocks now, but one day, I'll see him kneel before me and show me the respect I deserve.

But all in due time. Myrcella and I profited most from the journey, which was fitting given our work, as many scrolls were found in that dank cave. We divided the scrolls of use between ourselves, tucking them into spell-books and watching them attach themselves. We'd have had more coin to share out if it were not for the insistence of a woman named Silver to follow along and learn from those more skilled than she, her blades held at a distance so far from the Curst it rendered her useless. And I, merely a 'sitting duck' of a wizard, believed that daggers had to meet flesh to cause pain. How silly of me.

I had in mind to deny her a share, but I had no wish to start a fight, especially not within the Vistani encampment. Besides, as I was quickly reminded, good things come to the patient. Grace is a weapon, the smile a scythe and the flutter of eyelashes is a flurry of blows against those who seek to cause you harm. All others can do is call me pain. How small. Influence is wealth, and wealth influence.

I was reminded of this when speaking with Inspector Montte, who is in addition both Captain of the Republican Guard, and a Baron to boot. He has a sensible head on his shoulders. Perhaps, with further conversation, I will discover more of its inner workings.
« Last Edit: August 06, 2014, 08:40:42 AM by emptyanima »

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III
« Reply #3 on: September 02, 2014, 07:50:29 AM »
Let the child not suffer for the sins of the father...

Father.

I anticipate you.

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IV
« Reply #4 on: September 07, 2014, 03:40:48 PM »
At last, I have been able to show my gratitude to Him. Those screams will fill my dreams... and they will be blissful.

I have etched those words onto my heart. May I never forget them.

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V
« Reply #5 on: September 16, 2014, 09:13:15 AM »
My role is clear now. I have my place. There are many things I must not forget as I become who I was born to be.

I shall not waste my talents.

Strange. When I dreamt this night past, I had wings.

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VI
« Reply #6 on: October 05, 2014, 11:41:40 AM »
Why is that those who still have some naïveté, some innocence, are those who are cursed and bound?

It is simple.

Naïveté itself is a shackle. And once they are free from whatever curse is upon them, they are stronger than before.

--

Fear and reverence ebbs low. I shall see that tide turned.

No corner of this land shall be spared. For no one can escape death.

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VII
« Reply #7 on: October 17, 2014, 05:49:38 AM »
My, but this was unexpected. Finally, my patient waiting has been rewarded.

Both knowledge, and my thirst for it, have increased. I am close to seizing yet more, bending it to my mastery.

But, of course... there is more to be done. So much more.

I have work to do.

--

If I threw myself from the highest precipice, I do not doubt that he would follow. He is utterly bewitched.

How marvellous.

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VIII
« Reply #8 on: October 19, 2014, 05:10:28 AM »
That was too close.

This creature is making this far harder than it should be. Perhaps he has already guessed at my intentions.

That stroke of genius saved me, not him.

I need to find the others, set things in motion, before he wrecks my plans completely.

--

With my help, he shall be freed from this bond. She may be his princess, but I am his Queen. He cannot serve two masters, and neither can I, for long. Which is why I must be careful.

If I move too quickly, their suspicion is yet fresh. But if I move too slowly, they may believe that something threw me off. Wisdom, patience.... these must guide my actions.
 
I am easily drunk with viscera and bloodshed. Something that is hard to conceal. How many obstacles are placed in my path?

I shall not fear.

« Last Edit: October 19, 2014, 05:32:30 AM by emptyanima »

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IX
« Reply #9 on: November 03, 2014, 09:06:21 AM »

I must keep him from submitting to his every whim. He is reckless and thoughtless when it matters most. Now he should understand what must be done.

Without me, his foolishness would have been his end.


--

At least he has found others. My own attempts at seeking have not borne much fruit. But perhaps they will help...

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The End?
« Reply #10 on: December 08, 2014, 04:04:04 PM »

She had been so close. Two hundred years before the time in which she walked, they rode to the Castle Ravenloft. Count Strahd von Zarovich had been in touching distance. She could have hurt him, the abomination that he was. But she did not... for they had a task to complete, in a time before her birth. That page. They needed it for his work.

They had evaded the Count, found themselves in the catacombs beneath Castle Ravenloft. It was not far from here that they found him, the keeper of the page. Azalin. But there would be a price...

A lover's heart.

Variel smiled. So this is how it would be... this was the ending written for her in a time long ago. No... it was not a heart that possessed love for a mortal... no love could rival that which she held for her King.

She watched Gunnar, relished the pain he felt... the pain inflicted on her when she bore a different name. But this end was written for her in her own name. Variel de la Croix... changed of the cross. Sacrifice was always to be her destiny. And as Gunnar tore her heart from her chest, Dominika watching with wide eyes, she managed a whisper.

"You... will never have my heart."

And then she felt it... Death's arms about her... to bear her away to eternity with her King, where time would slowly peel away her beautiful skin, to reveal the mask beneath her face...

But it was not meant to be. She had too soon forgotten the rage of the lover scorned. Sucked back into her body, blood pouring in waterfalls from every orifice and pore, his heartbreak manifested itself in hate. He called on the demon they had served.... announced that her soul was a sacrifice to feed on, that she might suffer in the depths of hell for eternity, and know it was him who had condemned her there. Desperation seized her, and she cried out, as Hell itself opened, hot flames licking at her feet, ravaging the fabric of her clothes, her skin, her flesh....


"Mask of Nerull, under my face, see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil! Nerull, take me!"

Still the flames ravaged her, phantom hands dragging her lower and lower into the abyss.

"I am your servant, I am loyal!"

There came no sympathy from Dominika and Gunnar, watching her, the flames reflected in their eyes. Gunnar kicked her, and she lost her fight, swallowed up into the ground. She gave a last, bloodcurdling scream, the firey depths finally closing once more.

-

The screams... the agony. She was in Hell, surrounded by suffering evildoers... but it was gone in an instant. Mist enveloped her, and the demon, the one for whom she had worked... he tore her soul from her body, keeping it for himself in his tome. Waiting...

One hundred and eighty years from now, a girl would be born...

She would suffer...

Through the mists she would be dragged...

And all her pain and misery she would again endure.

Until the time, now written for her in a book unchangeable...

Where she would be dragged back to that Castle, back to her death...

Where the circle would begin again.

Variel's Circle of Hell.


The End?

There shall be no end. Your soul is in my book, and your story shall be told again, and again, and again...

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Re: ∞ Rebirth: Variel de la Croix - A Journal [Complete] ∞
« Reply #11 on: August 26, 2016, 11:38:32 AM »
((Bump for safeguard.))