Tenta-Cull

You see Emissary Xanthium.

She appears to be a Half-Elf from Ta'Faendryl.

She is of a towering height and has a lithesome, nimble build. She appears to be very young. She has argent-haloed indigo eyes and pale porcelain skin. She has long, cascading onyx black hair flowing down into a riotous tumult of textured waves and gold-touched spiral curls. She has a fine-boned, heart-shaped face, a long, narrow nose and a bow of lush, mulberry red lips.

She has a viridian thorn-pierced wisp armband tattoo lined with blooming tendrils on her arm.

Elongated tentacles of hazy jade mist writhe across her form, undulating in rhythm to her movements.

She is in good shape.

She is wearing an ebon silk face veil, a spiderweb shroud, a slender bracelet of vaalin-webbed black glaes, a bright ribbon-twined wristlet with some flawless bronze finger cymbals hanging from it, a silver-twined black stone censer, and a deeply-pleated skirt composed of billowing dark orchid silk scarves.

Xanthium drops into a deep curtsy, moving smoothly as her arms sweep grandly to her sides.

(Xanthium draws the multitude of tears and pleats from her shroud and skirt about herself, stepping lightly on the plush carpet in her bare feet. Her pace turns into a spin, those same strips of cloth spiraling out like tendrils in her dance's breeze. Her face is mostly shadowed under the trailing vail, but the silvered orbs of her near-black eyes catch the shimmer of the lounge's lights overhead.)

Xanthium wistfully begins, "This is a story about the corners of the world still left unexplored, and you all know what I mean. Not those places too far away, exotic locales of legend, waiting for expedition and adventure. But those that are far too close and foreboding, places home to far darker stories and rumors. Within those fens, darkwoods and bogs, dreams rustle and stir, and you dare not give them the light of your eyes, for your soul is sure to follow."

The dog twists its neck to raise one of its ears up to one side and begins sniffing furiously while staring vacantly ahead.

Raising her arms slightly, Xanthium arches her back and gently lets her head rock back.

Xanthium continues, "Once upon a time, there was an old man, living in the shadow of the southern Dragonspine, the cleft of forests and groves between Malleigh and Barrett's Gorge. He lived alone, and unlike most hermits, Granch was not rejecting the world, but rather the other way around, like venom sucked and spat from a wound. For Granch was a vile man, dispossessed of all but the grime and stench that clung to him like a fetid caul."

Purple puffs of fragrant nightshade-scented smoke drift upward and about the black stone censer on Xanthium's belt.

Missoni wrinkles her nose.

Ysharra says, "Ugh."

Ysharra says, "I hate this part."

Xanthium quickly adds, "Granch lived in a one-room shack of tin and wood with his three hounds, which were nearly as mad and mean as the old man himself. He and the dogs would scour the valley for whatever they could run down and kill. Rodents and rabbits and the like, terrified, wild-eyed creatures, and Granch would have to wrench their savaged corpses from his dogs' grisly repast."

(Xanthium pauses to lean back, spreading her hands outward and up toward the window panes, and the curtain of stars beyond flashing through the heavy rains, as if offering herself up to their cold, faraway gaze. She spins again, drawing one knee up to cross over the other, her hips curling into the graceful movement like a bolt of fluttered silk. The lithe steps sets her finger cymbals against her wrist, the soft jingling the only sound outside of the rain and her story.)

Xanthium elaborates, "There were rumors about this part of the wilderness, besides warnings about Granch and his wretched curs. Stories about creatures who had fled north following the Third Elven War, after being released by the Faendryl who Summoned them from beyond the valence. They were once shadow made alive, and had bred with the valley's inhabitants, hidden hybrids lying in wait."

The dog suddenly turns and focuses its eyes upon Xanthium.

Purple-hued tendrils of incense rise up from the small holes in the black stone censer on Xanthium's belt.

Missoni snaps her fingers, and the dog moves to her side obediently.

(Xanthium stops her twirling and steps forward again, her arched toes touching down first, and then sending her heel down with enough force to create a soft thump to counter the ring of her cymbals. A deeper rhythm attends her words, now, and she makes her steps wider, circling before the crowd. Soon the storm's crackle and boom joins her crafted chorus.)

Xanthium raptly intones, "One late winter, the hermit went through a long spell of few catches, his traps were empty, his snares barren. He and his dogs got leaner and meaner, still, no food was to be found. To make things worse, the moons began to wane in tandem, and each night, the woods grew darker, making his fruitless hunts even more fraught with danger. And finally, one night, the moons turned their faces away from the world, and true night began, with Granch starving by starlight."

Xanthium animatedly says, "He kept on, straining and snarling alongside his fell hounds in the night, roaming through thickets of brambles and still-falling snow, desperate for anything to slake the fire in his belly. And just as he was about to give in, give up...something dark flickered and dashed across the ribbon of starshine on the snow."

Purple web-like patterns rise up into the air, as the faint scent of nightshade emanates from the black stone censer on Xanthium's belt.

(Xanthium curls her back into a long, graceful arch, reaching so far behind herself her palms nearly touch the floor. She holds the pose with great effort, hovering just above her own heels, and then tucks her hands into the folds of her shroud. She draws out the long, sinuous shape of a serpent, the dark green coils glinting in the dim light. The viper slides across her arms like a ribbon, crossing over her chest and winding about her narrow waist and flared hips.)

Xanthium gently reaches into her jade green robe and withdraws a copper-traced leaf green viper, which slowly curls around her hand.

Xanthium lifts her leaf green viper over her head and across the back of her neck, where it flexes in a languid undulation. When the viper finishes, it slowly relaxes, allowing its neck and tail to drape across Xanthium's shoulders and across the front of her torso.

Xanthium gently runs a hand across her leaf green viper, gently trailing fingers across its form in a delicate caress.

Xanthium fervently says, "Driven so by hunger, the old man struck like a coiled asp, slicing down with his machete toward where the shape slid, even beating his dogs to it- and he came back with something. He carried the wounded flesh back over to his lantern, and saw that it was disappointingly small, not even the whole creature- in fact, it was a long, black, scaled shank- a tail, or tendril. Like nothing he had ever seen."

Ysharra says, "No, I cannot bend myself in half. She gets that from her father."

Ysharra says, "Bloody rogues."

Xanthium smoothly says, "But Granch, he didn't pause- so ravenous he was, he ripped the skin off and didn't bother to cook it, gobbling it down raw, leaving only a few patches of bloody scales for his hounds. It tasted foul, as most things did to Granch, and wasn't nearly enough. But it would have to be, as the sky started to cloud up, taking what little light it had away. So still hungry, and cold, Granch returned to his squalid old room."

Xanthium coldly recites, "With no light left in sky, and no other food to be found, Granch wrapped himself up in his dusty pallet, to find some distraction from his hunger and the cold. But before he'd even settled, he heard a whistling wind pass through the valley, like a strangled scream. He listened hard, and all was silent...until..."

Xanthium forlornly whispers aloud, "Far out into the gloom, he heard a voice, a dry, scratchy, voice, and it called across the night sky, "Tenta-Cull, Tenta-Cull, who's got my Tenta-Cull?"."

(Xanthium shimmies forward and back again, and the large snake draped around her body slithers crossways from her thigh to her shoulder, seeking to keep its grip about her. The coils create a sound of their own, and she strokes the serpent with her long fingers and the edge of the cymbals, hissing the last cry of "Tenta-Cull" onto the snake's flickering, inquistive tongue.)

Xanthium's leaf green viper writhes slightly as she touches its skin. As it moves, its sinuous grace is plain to see. The carefully controlled roll of its muscular body causes the ambient light to momentarily glint off of it. It shifts for just a moment, then goes still once more.

Xanthium hesitantly says, "He peered out of his door, and listened close...but saw and heard nothing, just the endless black. So finally, he told himself it was nothing but dreams, and went back to bed. Barely had his head hit the pillow, when he heard the strange cry again, only this time, much closer. And again, the same voice, hissing, "Tenta-Cull! Tenta-Cull! Who's got my Tenta-Cull!", followed this time by more sinister shrieking, traveling through the wind, coming closer..."

Xanthium desperately says, "Granch sprang up, and this time opened the door and let his starving dogs out, let them chase after whatever was making those awful sounds, and put it down. They tore out into the wood, baying and snarling, the sounds echoing off of the mist, until...one dog stopped, the noise breaking off, followed by another, and then the last. Granch called for them, shouted for them, fumed after them, but nothing but his own voice could be heard now."

Xanthium continues, "Shrieking a curse to the sky, Granch slammed his door shut, and ran back to his bed, terrified to his bones. He pulled the sheet up to his chin, and waited, and waited...the howling sound was echoing still, and now joined by sounds of rustling, hissing...right outside his shack. He swore again, and as the breath left his mouth, the cold mist brushed across something in the dark. Two glimmering eyes, on the other side of the room, followed by a slithering clatter..."

Xanthium shrieks, "Tenta-Cull! Tenta-Cull! WHERE IS MY TENTA-CULL!"

(Xanthium turns again under the muted moonlight streaming through the stormclouds and window glass, bringing herself closer to her audience. Her voice goes from the resonant timbre into a discordant wail, so vibrant and thrumming the walls and air seem to spasm with her. Even the viper rears up to stare about each of you, the wedge-shaped head capped with gleaming amber eyes.)

Purple puffs of fragrant nightshade-scented smoke drift upward and about the black stone censer on Xanthium's belt.

Xanthium exclaims, "The slitted eyes flickered again, at the foot of his bed, getting closer, and in their yellow light he could see the creature's tapering, scaled head, black as Luukos' maw, and a wide, gaping mouth, filled with venom-laced, pointed teeth...shadows swirled about them both as the creature howled once more "WHERE IS MY TENTA-CULL!"

(Xanthium bounds forward suddenly toward the audience, her long shroud, skirt, and writhing snake rippling like fluid in the dense night air as she looms near. She thrusts her arms up into the air, clutching them into hooked claws, advancing in a circle toward each face in her gaze.)

Xanthium screams, "YOU HAVE IT!"

Xanthium throws her head back and howls!

Yardie gasps as his eyes widen in disbelief!

Tayler leans softly against Ithilwyn.

(Vaeldrys' hands come up defensively, before settling back and chuckling to himself.)

Xanthium smiles quietly to herself.

Xanthium smoothly continues, "The moons turned like dancers in the sky, pulling their skirts of wind and clouds back around, and winter faded into spring. Years flowed, seasons spun, and two whispers about that night long ago lingered. One, that no one ever saw Granch or his dogs again."

Xanthium concludes, "And the other: to this day, if you go wandering in those woods, in late winter, when the true night falls, and the light becomes a glimmer on snowfall, you will hear that plaintive, keening cry..."

Xanthium raspily screeches, "Tenta-Cull! Tenta-Cull! Now I've got my Tenta-Cull!"

Xanthium grins slowly.

Xanthium smiles a tiny, predatory smile, and slides her fingers across the snake again, calming her with a few massaging touches across her brilliant green scales. The serpent perches once more across her shoulders, the bright eyes glowing with suffused light alongside Xanthium's silver-ringed stare. She spreads her skirts, and takes a long, graceful bow.

Xanthium gives a playful grin and begins to sway, her body moving in perfect time to an unheard melody. Her rhythm increases slowly, and she caresses the leaf green viper coiled around her shoulders as she moves, clearly mimicking its sinuous movements to great effect.

Speaking to Yardie, Tayler says, "Perhaps an escaped demon, maybe we can lead an expedition and hunt it down."

Speaking to Tayler, Yardie says, "I have no problem with that."

Speaking to Xanthium, Vaeldrys says, "That was wonderful."

Speaking to Xanthium, Missoni says, "Oh, that was beautfiul and terrifying all at once! Thank you."

(OOC) Ysharra's player whispers to the group, "Many of you may have heard that story as kids, it's a Faendrylized version of "Tailypo," an Appalachian ghost story."

Xanthium says, "Thank you, as I said, it was my favorite, as a girl."

Xanthium says, "It still makes me shiver."