A deep, slow breath is heard, followed by an equally deep exhale.
Day was dying as the sun's long fingers slipped off the very last edge of the plane as the witch slowly ebbed around the fireside. Smoke rose thick in the small clearing, far away from the edges of Jastrey. Long parted had the dark woman been, sequestering herself away in a deep seclusion. Bones, still raw with flesh, sat in small rotting and fly infested piles around her. Despite the gore, they seemed to have some reason to their pattern, neatly laid out in various piles in a circle around her. In a small cage made of twine and twigs, rats scurried around. Squeaking sharply in that way animals do when they can feel fright, fear.
Nothing but her lips could be seen from the black folds of her hood, as the crooked dolls at her belt and bones about her neck rattled. Her long fingers reached over the fire, encanting something dark, in demonic whispers. "Shillrack, akthar nilkognig ellumnim..." Her lips cracked in wry grin, a darker smoke hissing forth from the burning logs.
Above the fire was a cauldron held by wrought-iron legs, dangling from the trigular structure and boiling hot over the flames. "Shillcan nar'ran, ellumnim....." The words hissed from her lips, the encantation continued. From the palm of her other hand she reached to grab from the small gathering of leaves and various dried mushrooms and fauna, sprinkling the mixture over the boiling concoction. The substance held a deep purplish and red color. It's thickness bubbled like syrup, smelling rich and succulent, like cooked red meat over open flame.
Having dashed the last of the dried mixture into the boiling thick sludge, she removed it from the flames, and tipped the cauldron to poor the thick liquid into a large, shallow bowl, the juices steaming and cooling in the cold night air.
At long last the woman slowly curled her palm about the cage with the rats. Lifting it from the stone, she moved back her place in front of the fire, the dirt there now indented with the pattern of where she had knelt night after night for seeming weeks on end. And there she knelt once more to take part of her fast.
Set before her now was the rat filled cage, five of them darting and scurrying over each other, their squeals and shrieks elevated as the clawed to get free. Next to the cage was a simple silver goblet. Akon pulled her long blackblade from her side, and placed it in front of her knees, long fingers reaching to her hood of which she slowly drew back to rest on her dark, leather plated shoulders.
Her lips strayed open as she exhaled lustfully to the sky. "Let me see...." She whispered, as if to some secret lover in the night. "Let me see...." She then ceremoniously drew her dagger from her belt, holding it level with the ground just above where the flames licked the air. She drew the blade slowly, as if the very act of unveiling it were sacred. She then set the sheath beside her, and drew the tip of the blade along her left palm, letting it slide along her flesh, rending it open and bloodied. Her lips curled into a grin, seeming to revel in the slight pain of it all. She then switched the hilt into her blooded palm, and slid the blade along her other palm, setting the dagger pointed towards her on the dirt at her knees. There she remained knelt, face upturned towards the sky. "Reveal to me all that is hidden...let it leach into my soul...." She whispered, dragging her bloodied palms down her closed eyes, coating her face in her own blood. A long slow exhale escaped again as her hands then reached to place the silver goblet right before her.
She opened the top of the cage, reaching in without looking to find in her grasp a wriggling struggling warm body of one of the vermin, grabbing it by the back, and lifting it to hold its neck and body between her palms. "Slirack! Nikthar!" She hissed, a quick crack of the creature spine, as the small animal's struggles ceased, crushed in her grasp. The dagger was once again raised in her left hand, the tiny neck of the animal slit as the blood of the small creature was let to dribble free into the goblet at the witch's knees. Four more times was the process repeated, until a slight gathering of blood was kept in the silver basin.
The carcasses of the small creatures were placed neatly in yet another pile at the woman's right, the dagger placed with point towards her at her knees. Then placed the woman her palms at either side of the goblet, partaking of the only sustenance she'd allowed herself for the last weeks, tipping it back as her lips parted to accept the lifeblood. Opening her mouth to let the still warm liquid slide down her throat, she shuddered audibly as her lips closed to swallow. Blood had been all her tongue had tasted these passing nights, her movements slow and hazey from the fast.
At last her hands reached without sight towards the cooling bowl of hot bloodied syprup and herbs, grasping it at either side to lift it slowly above her head. "Silnais kalicktum shilnak ellumnim....." She whispered, then tipping her head to the full moon as it cleared above her in the now dark and clouded sky. At the moon's shining, so did the woman pour the still steaming liquid upon her upturned visage, mouth open in a euphoric gasp, covering herself in the thick blood of countless prey, soaking her from head down in the syrupy substance. "Let my ears be opened..and let..me see..." She sayed hushed in lustful tones, begging the ritual to open her senses to the nether planes, seeking a connection at long last to those hence passed.
(Commune Spirits)
As Akon's chanting and speech grows louder and more furried, the smoke from the fire begins to rise and swirl around her robes, almost encircling her completely. As her tone softens, the smoke seems to eerily calm and a figure begins to appear. The figure is male; tall and burly with hair the color of the flames burning under his feet. He is dressed in traveler's pants and tunic, with a warm robe enveloping his form. Around his neck, a red dragon, almost like a holy symbol, hangs from a thick leather cord. His daggers are carefully fastened at his sides and he appears enraged as he turns to face his summoner. "Who is it tht calls me forth? The wrath of The Great Firey One shall come down upon you quicker than any fast death my daggers could give you. The Gret Firey One is hungry for his long since passed followers. Yet you dare summon me to the place He despises most? You are a mere mortal, unworthy of his blessings. The Great Firey One will reign death upon you and your town to right all your past wrongs done to him. Incollent Uordeq. You think you are worthy of The Great Firey One? You are no more than a snack to him. Your blood and bones will quench his thirst as he destroys this horrid town and all the members here within. SCORCH WILL CONSUME YOU ALL!!!" The man's voice grows angrier with rage as he carries on his rantings. The fire under his feet grows higher and higher. He turns his blazing eyes upon Akon, almost wishing to burn through to her very soul.
Akon lips curl into a wry and wicked grin, reveling in the success of her ritual. She extends her hands openly to the spirit, a humble display before the raging man. "And who's presence is it now that humbles me? For the Great Firey One's power is almighty and worthy of worship. I come offering sacrifice to the great one. Forgive my naive calling upon you, for I merely seek to please your master's hunger. Tell me, is it truly suiting for one of such great power to feast upon such easy prey as the pathetic rabble of Jastrey's peasants? Shall your lord's tongue truly be sated by such an easily defeated and crushed foe? Shall not the evils done upon him be atoned for by a far more powerful and delectable sacrifice? Shall not the Great Firey One instead kill the unkillable? Would not this please his senses and his spirit? Surely so great an one as he would find more joy and glory in letting his pallet taste the blood of one who's power is so great, the grave has never yet held him...one who no other hand has yet laid to permanent rest. It is a taste of the blood of this powerful being that I now offer as sacrifice to the Great Firey One. I merely beg to please...."
She bent her head towards him, arms still piously outstretched, and head bowed towards the spirit's embodiment.
Dark eyes glitter in the moonlight, as a small hand draws hood and mask closer around a pale face. Katri sinks deeper into the shadows as the ritual slowly comes to a close. She watches her mentor break the backs of the rats and drain their blood into the goblet infront of her.
The girl is silent, scarcely daring to breathe. She had heard Akon's voice in passing by and had grown curious and now found herself witness to a warlock's ritual. Katri shows no signs of fear or disgust, but only watches with a sharp gaze that takes in every detail of the older woman's actions.
Suddenly a hiss escapes between clenched teeth, barely audible and low. The young Uordeq winces as a cold, cracked voice echos through her mind, louder than it has for quite some time. Aleria's voice taunts and hisses and tormentes the girl, breaking her focus as Akon begins to drink the blood from the goblet.
Katri half doubles over, sinking to the grass in her shadowed corner, clutching at her temples. A strange feeling in the pit of her stomach as she fights the voice in her head to focus once more on Akon's rite.