Junior Apothecary Emilia Westmarch (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ewestmarch) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
resort_link2015-01-22 06:46 pm
ewestmarch) wrote in resort_link2015-01-22 06:46 pm
Entry tags:
veneration (cw: destruction by fire)
[The communicator is propped up on a small kickstand, in what seems to be a dirt lot. In front of it is a crude straw doll, twice life-size, bound to a wooden fencepost.]
Can't believe it's taken this long for one of you to die.
[Emilia's voice is somewhere behind the camera, and her shadow falls over the doll. Flames crackle and streak like a projectile to strike the doll in the center of its chest. It catches immediately and begins to burn.
Emilia recites:]
We are the chill in a coward's spine. We are the instruments of an unyielding ire. We burn the wickerman as a symbol of victory against old enemies. Those who fear and revile us as monsters will be struck down. In the face of atrocities, we have only grown stronger. We are the Forsaken.
[She pauses. The doll is still burning, but has lost its shape - it is mostly sticks and ash now.]
Dark Lady watch over you.
[Optional Spam, open to all:
In the streets of Blackway, a huge, rotting creature shuffles, leaving pools of foul liquid in its wake. It's twice as tall as a human and three times as wide. Four, if you could the cloud of flies around it as part of its radius. The smell alone is overpowering.
It's carrying a durable plastic bag filthy with the same ichor, filled with sewing supplies and topped with a hand-written shopping list in thin, spidery penmanship.
If you own a shop, it might poke its head in there, too. Its sense of direction isn't very good.]
Can't believe it's taken this long for one of you to die.
[Emilia's voice is somewhere behind the camera, and her shadow falls over the doll. Flames crackle and streak like a projectile to strike the doll in the center of its chest. It catches immediately and begins to burn.
Emilia recites:]
We are the chill in a coward's spine. We are the instruments of an unyielding ire. We burn the wickerman as a symbol of victory against old enemies. Those who fear and revile us as monsters will be struck down. In the face of atrocities, we have only grown stronger. We are the Forsaken.
[She pauses. The doll is still burning, but has lost its shape - it is mostly sticks and ash now.]
Dark Lady watch over you.
[Optional Spam, open to all:
In the streets of Blackway, a huge, rotting creature shuffles, leaving pools of foul liquid in its wake. It's twice as tall as a human and three times as wide. Four, if you could the cloud of flies around it as part of its radius. The smell alone is overpowering.
It's carrying a durable plastic bag filthy with the same ichor, filled with sewing supplies and topped with a hand-written shopping list in thin, spidery penmanship.
If you own a shop, it might poke its head in there, too. Its sense of direction isn't very good.]
no subject
Hey, everyone? Try to stand back a bit.
no subject
What if it just. Sneaks away?
It tries, in possibly one of the least stealthy maneuvers of all time.]
no subject