Vedma - Rotting Witch

[granny]

[INDENT]

[SIZE="7"][COLOR="SandyBrown"][tface="salt"]A Soul Alike[/tface][/COLOR][/SIZE]

[INDENT][SIZE="7"][COLOR="SandyBrown"][tface="salt"]T[/tface][/COLOR][/SIZE][COLOR="Silver"]he intoxicating fumes of the old Pump House and their noxious gases opened passage to a crippled remain of human being that dark. Withered and crooked, the hag limped through the dirty corridors of the sewers and stopped before a pool of dejects, calling out infamous words and contorted prayers.

A silver dagger pointed upwards, glowing in green corruption, channeled the connection between the hideous woman and the forces that she were looking for. Her nails had then grown in dirty and size, curling with hellish hues, craving themselves upon her dried flesh. A cry of pain, agony and ecstasy succeeding, she dismays on the metal bridge upon which she were making her spiteful weaving of maladies.

Taken by brutal affliction, her eyes open to look around a place filled by disturbing visages. Hoses bearing the heads of bats, spiders crawling upon fountains of magma and flowers growing from the eye cavities of a grinning maiden. The ground was paved with the bones of infinite dead and the sky had holes instead of stars. The weeping sorrows of numerous souls were the food of an ever hungry boy, starving upon the misery that walked through a nearby road. And Vedma was part of it all. Rooted on the ground, a tree of infectious and putrid goo, her arms twirling upwards, gnarling in anxious, mournful asking.

A cough of mournful angst invaded the air in a lament of ancient pain. The woman called out for mercy, a dreadful cry for any sort of pity or a snack of blissful rain that would wash away the cursing pain that had broken her limbs and had pierced her veins with the venom of the world. The lies of the infidel, the betrayal of the beloved, the spit of the ungrateful, the scowl of the arrogant, the hunger of the young. Roots deep on the disgrace, on the doom of each unrealized dream, her blood made out from the crippling of the shattered souls, the foulest thought brought to reality or a reality brought to insanity. Wings formed from all the sins and all the misfortune, cooked in a cauldron of madness, its murky contents bubbling together in a mass of unveiled lies and truths, bringing to reality the unspoken hates, the whispered angst, the awaited gift, the never given embrace. Wings that bring no freedom, but that roots themselves into the curse of the existence.

"WHAT HAVE YOU MADE OF YOURSELF, VEDMA? WHAT ARE YOU WORTH?"

"YOU ARE WORTH LESS THAN THE BREATH OF A BEATEN RAT. YOU ARE LESS THAN THE FLEA THAT SUCKS ITS RANCID BLOOD AND EVEN LESS THAN ANY ONE OF ITS LACKING DREAMS".

"YES, VEDMA. YOU BOTHER US. YOU DO BOTHER US IN YOUR UNWORTHY PLEAS. SHUT UP. SHUT UP, WRETCH OF THE EXISTENCE. YOU WOULD BE BETTER IF YOU WERE NOTHING! HOW SUCH A SMALL SAND GRAIN CAN BE SO ANNOYING?"

... and the cry resumes. One can only endure so much before being shattered themselves. It goes beyond their breath. It boulders too heavy, a burden of several eons upon the weak bones of an already old body. How long would she stay standing, wailing her misery? How much time was left before she would knee and succumb, how much time before her lungs would be pierced by her fate and the air abandoned them? Cursing pain, cursed veins... doomed oblivion and denied dreams. How many hopes were buried under the routine experiences? How many wishes were forgotten to the wind of denials?  So many... and many more would be if...

"OH, Gods... Why...? Where is d'purpose of embracing such a fate? Is dere any?"

The child cackled, maybe the flowers from her eyes did as well. By the magma, the spiders melted and from the holes of the sky all sorts of dreams leaked through, lost forever into nothingness. How much it hurts to be witness of the world's wounds. The pus of the shattering of hope is the most terrible venom that could be injected into Vedma's weak body. And still, she would be forced to go through it, endure or be forgotten as well. A tree of pain and cripple. A tree of open wounds, injured to the soul and beyond. A cackle of rejection and scars, a trophy of defeat and loss. Still, a soul with a voice, although... weak, but loud enough to be heard...

"A soul... a soul worth of meh... a-aye. A being of mirrored fate. Imma so lonely, I-... a chance, aye, a chance to go on breading..."

The rotting tree was little less than what she were before, and still she would ooze a last, woeful cry. A supplicant effort of being heard, of not being forgotten. Phrases through the fumes of death and misery, a call for mercy and pity. Nonetheless, what would answer then? What could one expect from the very shattering of souls and dreams? The hope leaking through her hands and the sorrow of the widowed beings piercing her veins, Vedma would be answered with the pain of the living and unliving, with the hate of the dead and undying. A lightning of a thousand knives cut through her body, she heard three words.

"THEN IT SHALL BE!"

Which meaning would three words like these be hiding under the clouds that covered the skies? Whatever it was, it was enough for the flowers coming from the eye cavities of the child to wither, her skin being devoured by the marks of the dreams and hope denials. A rain of misfortune washed all that remained there to be seen, the ground opening in a pit, dragging down all that insisted into going on being. Like the mouth of a voracious eel, the Threshold of Oblivion opened to nothing. Not even pain, not even suffering would be felt. Something worse and more terrifying, the drowning of experience, the incapability of feeling. For a brief instant, the witnessing of the fate of Gods brought death closer to those that stood there and a hiccup halted the time.

Eyes upon the refuse of the "better", the pile of rot and rag that was the old hag turn to face smaller eyes than hers. A body of deeper decrepitude and shame worse than hers. Indeed, a twisted, crooked, terrified frame. A small rat, trembling in anxiety and in misery, old and a feet closer into the grave, it sneezed and squeaked. Vedma snorted, amused and relieved, noticing that even in fear, although, the little beast did not run. It did not move apart. It just waited the crone to wake. Patient and scared, the rat waited until Vedma stood from the bridge with a grunt, coughing her suffering out of her body. Slime sweating out of her skin, beading from her forehead with ochre oozing.

"Strange sense of humor yeh got, Mistress."

At that, she just stared at the rat, as if measuring, pondering. With a roll of her yellowed, tired gaze, she commanded,

"We move, rat. There is much to be done. They won't wait longer".

Obedient, the fearful rodent sprinted along the crone and, since then, a couple of cripples would be spotted now and then, both dragging themselves through the fumes of the noxious Pump House, maybe towards their grave, or maybe towards the grave of someone else.[/COLOR][/INDENT]

[/INDENT]


[INDENT]She was my try of rolling what I call a "safe PC". After so many burn outs, I try to go back to the kind of PC I enjoy the most, so I might have time to cool down and relax. Oddly enough, this time it did not work that well.

No screenies, because my connection and patience don't afford it at this time. I hope the story of how she met the plague rat that has been bothering your lives in the last weeks to be sufficiently entertaining.

For those still wondering, I rolled a cleric/wizard (first lasting multiclass concept of mine). Sorry for the lies about the familiar, but I really hate to confirm IC rumors through OOC tells. Even more when it is something so cool like it was (at least for me, even after being FDed still having 1200 XP debit to pay because of all deaths imposed to my disgusting friend, heheheh).

My biggest aim with Vedma (other than cooling down) was to bring a consistent opposition against Upper Sanctuary considering how Lower has been softened about the past injures it has been suffering in the last months (in my personal point of view). Another important subject was to play around the more "witchey" mechanics that were available for concepts like Vedma and that I only got close to master some months ago. You know, all those curses, diseases, debilitating spells, familiar possession and potion brewing (my kudos for all the work put by the DMs into making this stuff possible). A shame that another hag dies without learning how to make poisons in EFU alchemy. Well... it stands for the future.

To be fair, there is one thing that makes me really happy, although. Finally I managed to bring significant support to the concept. I guess of my spiteful hags, Vedma was one that got most fellow player concepts designed to join her plot. To everyone that joined the ship, my thanks. I hope you guys go on with them in spite of her demise. Talona, Yurtrus and Moander deserve to go on bothering the lives of the residents of EFU.[/INDENT]

[Ziya]

... o7

You caused at least two outbreaks of diseases in Upper that I was there for, and for that alone is awesome, injecting fear and uncertainty into what is otherwise a sanctuary.

[Siren]

Probably one of the most fetching and intriguing characters in the server!

I think it might've been my favourite PC since being here, simply because it's so different from everything you're used to see. A hate-driven, bitter old witch with a rotting heart. It's perfect!

I think it wouldn't be fair to let this character go away without stating that I really look up to you as a roleplayer, it takes a special amount of dedication to be willing to play a character like this and abdicate of certain privileges, like the ability to easily find characters that're willing to be around you, not being able to integrate groups easily, being willing to be outright disliked IC, etc.

I'm biased, however, being someone who sees cookie-cutter good-aligned righteous characters as a pet peeve, secretly roots for the villains and has a crush for anti-heroes. I've to say that characters like yours are what I wish to see more of. Being relatively new to the server I still intend on having one more "good" character to get a grasp of what's possible to do around the server and easily be able to make friends, though I'll hereby state that after my next character dies (whether that's Maya or someone else), I'll be experimenting with the evil side and embracing my innate desires to oppose heroes. =P

[Pandip]

The 'grannies' have put a diseased dent in the peaceful lives of civilization yet again!

You are my hero. Keep rocking!

[PlayaCharacter]

Damn it.

[xXCrystal_Rose]

And the half-mad cultists, the deviants, and the outcasts unable to exist in civilized society rejoice. The lives of the Lowerfolk are made somewhat less insufferable and even those without a stake to care pleasure in the loss of one of the rare few lives that remain in the world. Throughout the population though the hacking wheezes remains. The unhealthy sewer dwellers that fill the street and ruined structures in closely packed squalor sneeze and flies and rats live like kings. Although Vedma is gone the fleas and parasites remember her. Although Vedma is gone the disease that is Lower Dunwarren itself is incubating in the festering refuse that calls that cesspool home. Although Vedma is gone her rot is in the heart of all men and women and with each breath they spread her plague until one day it grows and is given name.

She will not be missed. She will be remembered in every itch and every festering corpse to come.

[Doc-Holiday]

Blargh... I had plans for a rivalry between Vedma and Mikael


T_T

Sad now

[Dredi]

Even the most poisonous flowers will stop killing people eventually.

[Knight Of Pentacles]

the legends tell that one day granny will play a male character... one day...

[efuincarnate]

A male paladin of Illmater no less..

[Fosko]

Noooooooooooo! She was so awesome, thanks for playing such a beautiful character.

[Dillusionist]

You managed to spread a couple serious epidemics. Grats on that! I enjoyed our characters' constant barbs at each-other.

[AllMYBudgies]

One of the few Talonites that actually spread a plague without needing a DM, and great, inventive methods of doing so :)

Awesome as ever!

[goate]

Another great witch Granny.  I was glad to see how many people you were able to involve in your scheming.  I think you gained a lot more infamy with Vedma than you had with any previous witch that I can think of.  I hope you feel better and decide to afflict Dunwarren with another PC soon :D

I had fun being your first carrion vector!

[Ryloth]

Every time I met Vedma something awesome happened.