Ancarula Alairuru the Mistress of Mutation, Ember

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Role

Chapter 3

The scrawny man, startled from his rummaging for more wood in the ash, caught
the hollow gaze of the drow before him. Real recognized real, and his
bloodshot eyes gleamed with delight.

She knelt at the smoldering tree and thrust her hands into the embers and ash
and she too covered her pale skin with streaks of soot.

"These ashes of nowhere, they will soon be everywhere," she said to the
forest burner and cackled into the coming night, her maniacal laugh joined by
the man, then another, and another as several neared.

Searching, mesmerized by the ruin around her, she felt her fire drawn down
into the depths of the forest, and there she found the swirl of chaos and
magic, fire and devastation, and a vision for what was to come.

The dark phoenix welcomed her to the pyre, to rejoice before Ocaiye's
ever-burning flame. Solisren questioned her, of prey, of feelings, of worth,
and the drow grew bolder, for she had found her home, a place to be
captivated.

She held her hand to the flame and marveled as it scarred her, and her magic
regenerated. And again, upon the pyre, its obsidian easily slicing her
fragile skin, only to be mended by the prevalence of magic in Her holy place.

The dark phoenix questioned if she would stand out.

She already does.

The ember burns, grows, and she consumes.

Role

Chapter 2

The flame flickered, but this time there was no air moving.

He head askance to the corner, she witnessed the shadows cast grew darker,
more ominous, darkening as her pain and fright worsened, until the shadows
themselves slid vertically and seemed to . . . open?

From its doorway, or portal, a figure materialized, a scuttling deformity
with pointed teeth and four eyes. It locked its gaze upon the gnome, and its
gaping maw widened beyond proportion. As the battle waged and tilted to the
gnomes favor, the beast bent forward, nearer and nearer . . . and devoured
the gnome whole!

Barely a sound escaped but the flash of abject terror in surprise.

The candle collapsed to the floor but its flame did not diminish.

The magical hold released. In near brokenness, a mess of sweat and heavy
breathing, the drow stared quickly about, surveying for the shadow lurker.
Her vision still cloudy, her hearing took over and she listened to the faint
sound of hunger and claw upon cold stone.

The Vivisector had often mumbled how fear amplifies the latent abilities, and
at this moment, she was grateful it was so. She blinked, and found her self
flat, between light and shadow, just as the rush of elongated claws swiped
through where she had lain prone and paralyzed.

By the time the bestial sound of dejection could be heard in the chamber, she
had easily slipped through the door, then the hallway, then a winding alley,
and eventually under the harsh noon sun of Galadon.

What other horrors lurked so brazenly amidst so many people she knew not, her
only memories now being decades of pain and torture. But no one or no thing
would ever rival her for the misery she would now enact. The fire yet burns,
though a dim candle, but in its shadows cast loom mayhem and chaos. Soon, the
flame grows and will sweep across in power and carnage. This she knew,
strengthened by scars seen and unseen.

Role

Chapter 1

In the middle of it all, there was the faintest flame of the lone candle. It
cast a a pale light, barely any at all, upon the cold, stone room. A thin,
emaciated drow huddled in the corner, anger and fright fighting the each
other to outline her eyes.

The candle holder, an unusually tall and knobby gnome with a most bulbous,
oversized head, pattered about the chamber. The drow heard the echoes beneath
the thick wooden door, hushed sounds of other prisoners, other subjects, as
they whispered in fear of the gnome. They called him the Vivisector.

He did not even bother to lock the door, comfortable in his own powers, in
his own place of research. He simply locked eyes with her, uttered a word or
two, and her body became abruptly rigid.

The flame flickered, and she longed to find refuge in the shadow of its edge.

The gnome produced his knife and held it to the candle, and began cutting
into her abdomen.

"Marvelous!" he mumbled. She felt little through the pain, but the pain
subsided, and once again a tingling sensation roiled around her wound. She
could not see the dreadful work, frozen immobile, but as her eyes darted
about frantically, she felt the slice mend itself.

The Vivisector then held the candle flame to her palm, and the sear and scent
of burning flesh began to fill the room as pain enveloped her. He held it
there for what must have been minutes, but the fire and pain never spread.

"How it heals even so, remarkable!" he again exclaimed in his studious
torture. His curious eyes caught her and she felt her body become even more
suspended.

A tightness began to form in her head, a sharp pain like the knife was within
her skull, slicing blindly and haphazardly about, before being combated, or
thwarted by her own thoughts. A war began to roil, as the gnome probed and
she parried, but he pressed harder. She felt her eyes begin to dim as his
studies went further than any before, and she vaguely saw his curiosity turn
to something more menacing and unrelenting as she thrashed within.

(continued . . . )

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