The forests were the darkest here, misty...foggy and grey. The land was bland in color, even the greens of the trees seemed muted, their trunks, rotting and the dirt seemed pale. Some places, it was difficult to tell where the marshes turned to bogs, and where the thick, sticky muds turned into grey cut paths into the deep and never ending mourning woods. The thin streaks of eternal fogs helped to distill the shadows during the day, even muting the sun to keep the world in a perpetual grey haze. At night, the tall, skeletal like trees stretched up wickedly towards the sky, where the pale moon cast the world beneath it into a ghostly hue.
It was here Rizhra made her home, a single, simply built cabin of wood. Never a living breathing creature, be it man or beast had found such a home, lest either the witch that lived there, or the foul beasts of prey find your body and slit your throat, tearing your flesh off your skin and licking it to the bone. Yes, many wicked creatures lurked about, and Sah-lora was well aware of the dangers. Thankfully, most of the creatures moved at night.
Staring up towards the fog-hidden sun, she moved her hood's cloak over her head and pressed onward. She had a good portion of the day to perform her ritual. It was time she tried again.
To make an attempt to call the God's.
Last night, against the wicked flames of a brewing fire, her mother brewed an elixir for her child and pressed her on the issue of their freedom. Since childhood, the seed had been set; that hte God's were their enemy, and if they wanted to be rid of the swamp they were chained to, they had to draw the Gods to them..
and to make them pay.
THe ritual had only been performed one time before, and a seemingly lesser God had arrived. Pressed by her mother's will, the God's life had ended and Sah-lora felt herself appalled to watch the creature burn away as it wretched and fluttered off into crumbles of ash. She tried not to shiver as she recalled the feeling of death. She had never killed somethign like a human before, but she trusted her mother and knew she'd have to kill again.
This time, her mother sent her alone.
Though unbeknowest to her, Rizhra was ever watching- having an eye on all things within her domain as she conjured her watching spell within her brewing pot.
They would eat like God's tonight! Rizhra grew excited and tossed a frog into the strew, and the pot frothed as the creature dissolved and fizzled into nothing more. Stirring, the witch kept her eye on her daughter as Sah-lora pressed onward.
She never liked going this far, to the outskirts of their imprisonment, but the ground was more solid here and she paused to clean off some of the muck from her boots. It was then she heard a noise. Turning around, blade drawn, she watched as a hawk screeched and took off into the sky. Sighing, she frowned and slid the blade back into it's scabbard and shook her head. She was all nerves. But shouldn't she be? After all, it wasn't like every day she was sent to kill a God.
Yes, she had trained for some time for this occasion, and had procured an oppurtunity once. But her nerves kept her fingers sweaty as she itched at her forehead and moved towards the spot.
There was a clearing, a wide mouth of bog that was set amongst jagged cliffs. Here, she was near the boarder, and as her mother had told her, lest she try to cross to the other side, she'd burn away-.. it was would be certain death. Swallowing hard, she made her way towards the swampy lands, and internally cringed as she had to make her way over towards the rock that lay in it's center. The bog ran deep, and she found herself swimming int he sticky muck, but soon she arrived at the center stone and threw herself upon it and climbed ontop, leaving a trail of mud in her wake.
Her cloak barely saved her body from the mud that now slicked her flesh, but she ignored it's cold presence as it began to cake to her flesh and proceeded to untie her satchel and went to work.
7 small, white wax candles were set upon simple, ceramic cups. Then a wild newt, produced from her pocket, wriggled and tickled between her fingers as she held it out, cringing before stuffing the thing into her mouth, crunching it hole as the wriggling creature turned into mush and then, swallowed it down her throat. She nearly wretched, and paused, her forearm pressed against her lips as she remained bow. Waiting for her stomach to settle, she wiped her lips then released a breath. THe lizard would stay in her stomach for now.
Brushing her gold hair aside, that had fallen out from behind her ear, she moved to unscrew the jar of spiders and began to sprinkle them over the open flames of her candles.
The soft, dieing shrieks of the baby spiders sent chills up her back. But the ritual preparation was hardly over.
She drew out the dagger, the God killer, so it was claimed, and stared at it for a time before moving forward, gently hoovering it over each flame to the count of thirty, then moving onward six more times.
It was then the flames on the candles turned black.
Lora held her breath, and noted the woods grew more quiet. It was always quiet in the cursed swamps, but somehow, when the candles's flamed turned dark, the silence was even more deafening.
SHe felt her breathing quicken as she moved, throwing back the hood of her cloak as she stared up at the cloudy sky, still hazed over by the natural fog. STill plenty of daylight. She could get back hom ebefore the monsters were to come..
and hopefully hve this god killed before supper. She'd hate to go to bed with just a squirming newt in her gut.
Another jar came outm this time she placed it in the center, leaving it aside for now as she moved into her bag and drew out a blood soaked clothe. Her fingers, nervous, fought the bindings before the knot came undone and she tossed the bindings aside. then unfolded the clothe to reveal a heart inside.
The heart of a cat.
She swallowed hard and placed the cold, wet organ before her and between the candles, then bowed her head, closed her eyes and began to pray.
The words were barely whispered out of her lips when a wind carried through, lifting through her golden red hair and carrying one of her charms with it. The feather of a hawk- she needed to wear it, but it had come loose and was catching up and into the air.
Instincts had her grabbing for it, but she missed and tripped over the jar before her, kicking it over and nearly dousing out her flames as she fell over the side and into the bog, only moments before her fist clamped down successfully around her feather....
Then all was cold and dark.
A moment later, she submerged, gasping for breath as she had fought her way through the depths of the swamp. For a moment there, fear had seized her and she thought for sure the swamp would have gobbled her up. She was catching her breath as seh moved desperately back to the center rock and caught upon the edge of it when she thought hse heard something, saw a shadow move and paused.
Her head darted, looking out into the open fog.
Her body tensed, her lips set...
"Who's there?" she called, her voice echoing into the heavy fog.
