Ysharra says, "Very well, let me welcome you all."
Ysharra says, "Thank you all for being our guests, and our friends and audience members."
Ysharra says, "For this event, my daughter Xanthium is going to share her favorite scary story."
Ysharra says, "One that I used to tell her when she and Akonite were little, in our home in New Ta'Faendryl."
Ysharra says, "You all know of some of the dark rumors and whispers, with those who have trifled with the Faendryl, in the past."
Ysharra says, "Of the strange creatures that were set loose in the world, down towards the Demonwall."
Ysharra says, "And the suggestion that even today, those creatures found new homes, mated with the local beasts..."
Ysharra says, "And now their unholy children stalk the nights."
Ysharra folds her hands behind her back.
Xanthium just came through an arboreal alabaster-set archway.
Xanthium smiles.
(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."
Xanthium deftly removes some flawless bronze finger cymbals from her ribbon-twined wristlet.
Xanthium slowly raises her cymbals and begins to tap out a slow, soothing beat.
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."
Xanthium shivers.
Swaying slightly, Xanthium creates a slow, calm heartbeat with her cymbals as she taps it with her hand.
A trickle of nightshade-scented smoke rises languidly up from the black stone censer on Xanthium's belt.
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 snarls menacingly!
The dog cocks its head to one side and raises its muzzle up into the air, sniffing anxiously. After a moment, the fur of its ruff bristles, and it begins to growl at the shadows.
Xanthium glances at a lazy wild greyish-black dog.
Alisaire smiles pleasantly.
A low, throbbing beat takes you over, and Xanthium begins to elaborate with small flourishes and deft rhythm variations.
Missoni shifts her weight.
(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 dances around the room to music only she can hear.
A slow, pulsing rhythm unwinds as Xanthium plays her cymbals.
A low, throbbing beat takes you over, and Xanthium begins to elaborate with small flourishes and deft rhythm variations.
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."
Ysharra grins at Xanthium.
Ysharra says, "I told that part already, but that's more poetic."
A slow, pulsing rhythm unwinds as Xanthium plays her cymbals.
(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 turns around.
A low, throbbing beat takes you over, and Xanthium begins to elaborate with small flourishes and deft rhythm variations.
Fragrant wisps of nightshade-scented smoke dance sinuously up from the black stone censer on Xanthium's belt.
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."
Suddenly losing her balance, a yellow-eyed silvery lor mandrake sprouting pink firewitch flowers drops from Missoni's shoulders and onto the floor. Squirming on her back for several seconds, she seems to be giggling as she rights herself.
Swaying slightly, Xanthium creates a slow, calm heartbeat with her cymbals as she taps it with her hand.
Tikba nods rhythmically.
Speaking to Missoni, Ysharra says, "Me too, Sprout."
Missoni grins sheepishly.
A low, throbbing beat takes you over, and Xanthium begins to elaborate with small flourishes and deft rhythm variations.
Speaking to Ysharra, Missoni whispers aloud, "I hope she is old enough for this one."
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."
Xanthium glances at a persnickety wasteland spirit.
A slow, pulsing rhythm unwinds as Xanthium plays her cymbals.
Xanthium glances at a lazy wild greyish-black dog.
(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.
A slow, pulsing rhythm unwinds as Xanthium plays her cymbals.
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.
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 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."
A low, throbbing beat takes you over, and Xanthium begins to elaborate with small flourishes and deft rhythm variations.
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 throws her head back and howls!
Swaying slightly, Xanthium creates a slow, calm heartbeat with her cymbals as she taps it with her hand.
Raelee stares at Xanthium.
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 strides a few steps backward.
A low, throbbing beat takes you over, and Xanthium begins to elaborate with small flourishes and deft rhythm variations.
Xanthium inclines her ear, listening intently.
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?"."
Ysharra shivers.
Ysharra says, "I hate this part."
Ysharra says, "Also I love it."
Swaying slightly, Xanthium creates a slow, calm heartbeat with her cymbals as she taps it with her hand.
Faint tendrils of incense drift through the air, the nightshade-scented smoke dispersing about the black stone censer on Xanthium's belt.
(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 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.
A slow, pulsing rhythm unwinds as Xanthium plays her cymbals.
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 hisses.
A low, throbbing beat takes you over, and Xanthium begins to elaborate with small flourishes and deft rhythm variations.
Ysharra whispers to herself, her cobalt blue eyes enshrouded by a vibrant sanguine haze. Rivulets of bright red rise through her skin, thickly coating her arms and hands, disappearing as it makes contact with the ground...
Ysharra gestures.
A sudden breeze stirs the air about Ysharra, swirling and tugging at her clothing.
Ysharra whistles tunelessly to herself.
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 whimpers.
Swaying slightly, Xanthium creates a slow, calm heartbeat with her cymbals as she taps it with her hand.
Speaking to a lazy wild greyish-black dog, Ysharra says, "I am sure they were very bad dogs."
Ysharra nods once.
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..."
Missoni nods knowingly at Ysharra.
A low, throbbing beat takes you over, and Xanthium begins to elaborate with small flourishes and deft rhythm variations.
Xanthium shrieks, "Tenta-Cull! Tenta-Cull! WHERE IS MY TENTA-CULL!"
Missoni clasps her hand over her mouth.
Xanthium flashes a wolfish grin.
A trickle of nightshade-scented smoke rises languidly up from the black stone censer on Xanthium's belt.
Tikba glances apprehensively at Xanthium.
(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.)
Xanthium sways back and forth.
Swaying slightly, Xanthium creates a slow, calm heartbeat with her cymbals as she taps it with her hand.
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!"
Missoni reaches out and pats a yellow-eyed silvery lor mandrake sprouting pink firewitch flowers.
Alisaire nonchalantly folds her arms across her chest. Her cast shadow briefly twists, its attention focused intently to one side as clawed fingers stretch outward with unnatural length.
The music moves slower and slower until finally, with a last hovering beat, it fades away. Xanthium looks up from her cymbals and smiles.
(Xanthium jumps down in front of Thrassus, then pivots to Emperia, and finally leaps down to snatch at the air in front of Missoni.)
(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.)
Missoni leans back.
Missoni gulps.
Thrassus raises an eyebrow.
Emperia flinches.
Xanthium screams, "YOU HAVE IT!"
Xanthium screams!
Ysharra grins.
Xanthium strides a few steps backward.
You nervously tug at your silk cravat.
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."
Alisaire gives a sidelong glance at you.
Tikba leans back.
Xanthium glances between Tikba and Raelee.
A trickle of nightshade-scented smoke rises languidly up from the black stone censer on Xanthium's belt.
Xanthium smiles and adopts a conspiratorial grin, nodding at the audience.
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 puckers up and blows a kiss at her leaf green viper.
Xanthium raspily screeches, "Tenta-Cull! Tenta-Cull! Now I've got my Tenta-Cull!"
Xanthium smiles.
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 performs a bow characteristic of Ta'Faendryl.