Gourd Forbid [Seasonal Event]
Melita Najya
the Honeybee


Age: 26 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 10 - Strg: 57 - Dext: 58 - Endr: 58 - Luck: 57 - Int: 1
FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd SILA - Mythical - Dragon (Fire Breath)
Played by: Heather Offline
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Posts: 2,913 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#1
 
M E L I T A


The morning light striking the oasis should’ve brought wondrous thoughts of repose, tranquility, and serenity.

Except for Melita was exactly none of those things at any moment in time.

Instead, she was cacophony and discord, racing across marshy inlets in bare feet and hollering like a banshee. The long stick she’d managed to acquire from somewhere inland had become a formidable weapon, and she held it aloft, overhead, like it was a potent, powerful battle ax. “I’ll get you!” She laughed, she howled, she chased down gourd after gourd as their creepy, eerie stares had quickly turned tail at the sight of the harpy racing towards them. Her dress had been tied in a knot at the end, and it bounded against her legs on her left side, hair just as wild, just as savage, as her makeshift staff rained a blow upon one more unfortunate pumpkin. “Another enemy vanquished,” she sing-songed, before clasping it with her free hand and tossing it towards a dry embankment. She was determined to make something of them, besides a diversion and swift, ridiculous amusement, but for the moment, she was caught in the snares of turbulence (and it was so familiar, so wondrous, so breathtaking).

More seemed to build upon the death of their friend, coming at her from all sides while she giggled, swinging the stick in a wide arc around her; lacking any and all precision, chaotic and boisterous, hoping to make a connection with each target before they decided develop a keener tactic.





Edrei Launceleyn
the Rapacious


Age: 28 | Height: 5'7 | Race: Ascended | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 6 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 20 - Endr: 21 - Luck: 5 - Int:
Played by: Odd Offline
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Posts: 991 | Total: 16,193
MP: 0
#2


The sound of a voice drew both the Launceleyn-girl and her small bobcat-kitten's attention. "Sounds like someone is having fun." Edy grinned towards Bobi before trotting through the overgrowth to spy an adorably bedraggled looking red-head. Dress in a knot, knobbed 'staff' in her hands and an exuberant smile on her face, she looked like something from a story book. Only instead of Edy being a handsome prince spying the young maiden in a moment of naivety, it was just Edy, here to blow some shit up.

"Not bad!" Edy cackled from where she'd appeared, hands folded across her arms and a dazzlingly white smile on her lips. Glancing down at Bobi, she nodded approvingly which sent the small bobcat kitten scurrying forward, paws outstretched to try and capture one of the rolling gourds. With a few hisses and angry mewling sounds, the gourd lay 'dead' beneath the bobcat, who happily gnawed on it.

"My turn." The teenager announced, flittering her fingers dramatically as fire began to slowly bleed from them. Pointing at the nearest gourd with a wicked cackle, the flames shot towards it immediately incinerating it.

EDY
baby you should know what you're falling for
Melita Najya
the Honeybee


Age: 26 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 10 - Strg: 57 - Dext: 58 - Endr: 58 - Luck: 57 - Int: 1
FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd SILA - Mythical - Dragon (Fire Breath)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 2,913 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#3
 
M E L I T A


Hours spent amongst comrades in arms had been full of nefarious blessings: she hadn’t been alone in her fights, in her trials, in her pledges and vows for vengeance. They’d been one and the same, hundreds of strangers come together to solidify bloodshed and terror, to unleash hell and upheaval upon those who’d stung them first. They’d roared and crooned, screamed and screeched, rampaged and decimated, merging into a seditious splendor. Perhaps that’s what she missed the most – and it seemed odd, peculiar, between the anguish and despair, the melancholy and the rage; but she’d been a part of something. No one had underestimated her. No one had told her to stand back. No one had nudged her behind a rock, yelled at her to hide. They had all combined forces and everyone had been beneficial, everyone had played a role, everyone had surged in a unit of animosity, violence, and insurrection – and for those paralyzing moments, it’d been glorious. She had the scars, the marks, the stigmas of brutality draped across her skin, but they scarcely mattered. It’d been worth every bite, every tear, and every laceration.

The makeshift staff wasn’t the same as a sword, and the gourds weren’t the same as monsters and demons, but it was enough for now, laying siege after siege, blow after blow, cackle after cackle. They reappeared just as quickly as she’d ensued their demise, and it was a zealous, ardent rush, to combat the unknown all over again.

The call of not bad came across the streams and embankments, and the honeybee girl took a scarce moment to brush aside a tassel of curls from her face, to see who approached. She didn’t recognize her; but that wasn’t a difficult prospect, Melita was more the stranger in these parts, another token being of enigmas and quandaries. She was mesmerized for those entangled seconds, bewildered by bobcat kittens racing off and the glow of fire – grinning, laughing, and flames tore gourds and vegetables apart. “Well done!” She shouted from her inlet, using one arm to sweep her stick across one more stray pumpkin.

Magic, she thought, the smile still there, embedded in her lips. She’d been witness to enchantments and invocations, but never possessed any herself; she might’ve been an absolute nightmare if given the right opportunity to unleash hell and havoc. Instead of harboring any envy or jealousy though, the sprite was always enamored by the fixtures, by the wonder, of the abilities and talents. “Could you do it again?” The youth laughed, standing aside as more gourds came rolling into the area.




Edrei Launceleyn
the Rapacious


Age: 28 | Height: 5'7 | Race: Ascended | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 6 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 20 - Endr: 21 - Luck: 5 - Int:
Played by: Odd Offline
Change author:
Posts: 991 | Total: 16,193
MP: 0
#4


It was actually strange for Edrei to see someone younger than herself. Back home, you were only allowed to cross from Northwind to Northaven if you could provide some sort of service to the newly established settlement, which of course meant being of a certain age. Given the emphasis on population rebuilding, that also meant being of a sexually reproductive age. And while of course that age was closer to 15 or so, Edy had been one of the youngest to have ever come through one of the waves. Seeing the youthful face of Melita was like a sucker-punch to the gut, though Edy couldn't quite put her finger on why.

Melita's question snapped Edy out of whatever temporary contemplation she might have given into as an easy and salacious grin spread across her face. "That's what she said." Edy cackled with a wink. Spinning exuberantly and entirely unnecessarily, fire flowed from the teenager's finger tips as she danced in a circle. Casually she cast the whirlwind of gold and red towards the gourds creeping closer and set them ablaze as if they were kindling.

At the display of far too much fire for her liking, Bobi gave an angry mewl and sprinted towards Melita hissing belatedly over her shoulder.

"So, you just here for some sword play?" The teenager asked, strolling towards the copper-haired nymph with a brazen and white smile.

EDY
baby you should know what you're falling for
Melita Najya
the Honeybee


Age: 26 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 10 - Strg: 57 - Dext: 58 - Endr: 58 - Luck: 57 - Int: 1
FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd SILA - Mythical - Dragon (Fire Breath)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 2,913 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#5
 
M E L I T A


The fire sizzled in her eyes, and it was dazzling. She could recall moments of invocation and enchantments scorching the grounds of the Dragon’s Throat, smoldering through the Rift as monster after monster made it itself known, or just the quiet, unsung moments scattered in between, the ease of practice conjured by others. The honeybee girl wasn’t sure why she’d never been blessed – her consecrations were more aligned towards impulsive whims and mercurial, tempestuous decisions, the swift, shifting instances, roaring and growling at treacherous fiends. Perhaps the world had thought all her flaws, all her virtues, had been orchestrated into enough foils and foibles to last a lifetime, or maybe she’d been overlooked, passed by for someone stronger, someone mightier. Melita would ensure they’d regret the latter; because she was ravenous and mercenary, gleaming for the craving of dominion and power, strength and fortitude.

She hesitated – craving to ask how the other youth had managed to get ahold of the divination, but then presumed she’d been granted, gifted, or born with the ability, so she stuffed the inquiry in the back of her mind, saved it for another day, another instant, grinning wildly as more flames rendered gourds to cinders. The innuendo went completely over her head, scarcely registered, more taken in by the embers and coal, by the wake of ash left across marsh and grass. Her gaze settled briefly on the bobcat cub, hardly ashamed that she’d asked for more, shrugging at the hisses.

But then the maiden matched brazen smile for audacious splendor, impish, devil-may-care grin firmly in place during the entire show. “Yes!” She responded in turn; always ready, eager, fervent for the fray, to destroy, to ensure none of her comrades were ever harmed. “Unless there’s something else to do?” Her gilded stare flickered in all directions, glancing this way and that, presuming no other monsters but the ridiculous gourds would be coming – but maybe there were other methods of mischief and mayhem to be encountering.







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