Post #2821657 in The Order: Dark Veil, a roleplay on RPG

OUTFIT xxxx | xxxx#856EAD xxxx | xxxx VIBE

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The celebration was in full swing. Hundreds of gyrating bodies packed tightly on the dancefloor, dancing feverishly as the music made the very walls quake around them. Announcing the new members of the Order was a momentous occasion indeed, one christened with unending stocks of alcohol for everyone and psychedelic drugs for those who thought to bring their own. In just one night the Academy had become the Palace of the Lotus Flower, a place where time itself stood still and the party was never ending. Magic folk from far and wide had come from all over the globe to celebrate this day, knowing that this was a once in a lifetime opportunity. It was a night without limits, an exhibition of hedonistic fantasy. With caution thrown to the wind and inhibitions lost, they rejoiced, thriving on the full moon night.

So caught up in their own frivolity were they that no one seemed to notice the cloaked figure making their way into the ballroom. They parted the crowd as they walked toward the stage, swathed in all black, covering their face with a hooded shroud. As the figure made their way toward center stage, the lights began to flicker and the music began to slow, rising in pitch with every step they took. Madame Genes was the first to notice, watching as the figure in the dark cloak made their way across the ballroom toward the platform where the disk jockey stood, looking down at his equipment in confusion. Quickly, the headmistress left the conversation she was in, making her way toward the stairwell, keeping the mysterious figure in her sights. Ethel reached the top of the stairs just as the person reached the stage, finally getting a look at the face of her uninvited guest. Pale lips stretched over ivory teeth in a gruesome smile, black eyes peering through a silver mask, with skin as white as freshly fallen snow.

All at once the music swelled in pitch and volume, an ear splitting noise that shattered the very windows, forcing the guests out of their stupor. Each of them brought their hands to their ears in a desperate attempt to drown out the noise, as the lights above them popped and sparked, sending the ballroom into darkness. Glass rained down over the masses as the DJ unplugged his equipment, leaving only the scream of the partygoers to fill the void. All the while, the mysterious figure took the stage, standing beneath the only light in the ballroom, bringing everyone’s attention to the center of the platform. They faced the crowd, turning their back to the headmistress entirely, removing their cloak to reveal a woman beneath. She wore a masquerade mask fashioned to look like a skull, her black dress accented with silver vines and leaves. She stood in front of the assembly with her head held high and a sinister smile on her face, letting the crowd quiet itself down as she swept her gaze across the room.

Yelizaveta looked at the stage, her hand grasping Othello’s arm tightly as she put herself between them and the mysterious woman. Whoever this woman was, she brought fear along with her, and Liza couldn’t ignore the foreboding sense of dread looming over her head.

When the woman finally spoke, her voice cut through the crowd like a knife, “Well, well-...” her soft laughter, while rich like velvet, was deep in its register - chilling the onlookers to their very core. “What a glittering assemblage we have here.” Sensing the fear rising in her guests, Ethel carefully descended the stairwell, her eyes finding Yelizaveta Radomir in the crowd. The young protégé found her Headmistress, exchanging a look with the older witch before their eyes returned to the woman, her voice stealing their attention. “I must say… I was quite distressed at not receiving an invitation.”

“You’re not welcome here.”

Ethel’s voice was like a gunshot, piercing the tension and making every heart in the room collectively drop, the anticipation forming pits in their stomachs. A sneer flickered over the woman’s face like a spark, immediately concealed by that mask of malevolence. The Headmistress had walked halfway down the stairs by the time the strange woman looked back at her over her shoulder. She pouted, little sobs of distress leaving her lips, putting on a show as if the thought was enough to bring her to tears. She began laughing instead, everyone looking to Madame Genes in desperation, their eyes beseeching her from where they all stood. Who was this woman? Why was she here? What was she going to do? Why did the Headmistress know who she was? Her laughter echoed across the ballroom, dark and menacing, only amplifying the tension.

“Oh dear-...” she mused, her voice like a sigh, as if she were catching her breath after a hilarious joke. “What an awkward situation I’ve found myself in.” Turning back to face the crowd, the woman raised her hand, dark magic secreting from every pore like black smoke. As she made a fist, Ethel grasped at her chest, clutching at her heart as she gasped for air, only to crumble down the stairs. The crowd reacted immediately, a collective gasp sweeping over the ballroom, some crying out for the Headmistress while others screamed in terror at the thought of their own impending demise. Magic like this… it was unheard of. If she could make a powerful witch crumble with just a gesture-... what else was she capable of? Growing bored of their reactions relatively quickly, the woman shouted, “Silence!” and silence followed shortly after.

Fleur Vossen pushed her way through the crowd, dropping to her knees at Ethel’s side to check the woman’s pulse. The mysterious woman sneered in disgust, “Don’t fret over your pathetic little headmistress.” she spat, “She isn’t why I’m here.” She scanned the room again, as if she were looking for someone in particular. “I don’t think I have to explain why I’m here. The Order you have now just is not fit to decide who should take up their mantle. Their incompetence has gone unsupervised for far too long, and I will not sit idly by while they appoint a New Order to take their place.” Her eyes snapped to Edward Bradbury as he broke through the crowd, anger clear in his face, letting her gaze linger on him for a moment before it went back to the crowd, holding the attention of everyone in the room. She paced under one solitary light, its beacon throwing shadows all over her face, casting it in a menacing shadow. “So let’s get this over with, shall we?” She paused, leaving the crowd to whisper amongst themselves, dreading what she could be asking for. “If the New Order would be so kind as to reveal themselves to me, I promise to make your death as quick and as painless as I can.”

Yelizaveta’s eyes grew wide, her hand clutching at Othello even tighter than before. She shot them a look over her shoulder, telling them without words that she would do everything in her power to stop them from walking up to that woman. Her gaze swept over the ballroom, looking for her friends desperately, all of them having scattered halfway through the party. She found them each individually, pulling their attention away and holding their gaze, giving them all the same look. Surrendering themselves to this woman would be a mistake. It would be the end of The Order, the end of the Academy, quite possibly the end of the world. Who knows what this woman was capable of and what she has planned. As self-sacrificing as these new members were, turning themselves in could put more than just themselves in harm’s way. Liza tried to convey that in every exchange she had with them, wishing she could hide them away, help them escape while they left the Old Order to fend the woman off.

Before any of the five of them could step up, Edward Bradbury stepped toward the stage, the other members of the Old Order standing behind him. “That’s enough!” Yelizaveta watched as the woman cocked her eyebrow beneath her mask, her lips pulled into an amused smirk and the sheer audacity of the man. “Leave.” the Fire Elementalist ordered, “I won’t tell you again.”

The woman laughed, “Oh isn’t that precious.” Dark smoke drifted around her like a low hanging fog, her hands engulfed in their wispy tendrils, her magic building as she spoke, “You’re giving me options. Well I’m sorry Mister Bradbury-...” she shot her hand out and the smog erupted toward the Water Elementalist, forcing Fleur to bring her hands to her throat as she desperately gasped for air. “...- but I didn’t ask for you.” The Fire Elementalist threw a ball of fire at the mysterious woman, cutting off the connection between her and Fluer. Each of the members of the Order summoned their element, focusing all of their efforts in taking this woman down. Yelizaveta saw it for what it was, raising her voice to be heard by everyone in the ballroom.

“EVERYBODY RUN!” Screams filled the room as the crowd’s desperation mounted, practically trembling one another in an effort to escape the ballroom. Yelizaveta pulled Othello closer to her, keeping them steady as people rushed past them, all of them being herded through the door like a flock of sheep through a single gate. Yelizaveta looked up at her beloved, her hands cradling their face in her hands as she let her own panic show, hoping that her transparency would inspire them to save themselves. “My love you have to go, you have to get yourself out of here. If they can’t take her down she’s going to come after you.”

A pained shout brought Yelizaveta’s attention back to the fight, her eyes widening in fear as Ruby Mun collapsed to the ground, the whites in her eyes a horrifying crimson color. She watched as, one by one, each of the members of the Old Order fell. Roman Cassidy was the next to fall, falling unconscious into a pool of his own blood, a line of it trickling down his chin. Liza’s hands fell to her side as she watched in shock and terror, witnessing the world’s greatest protector’s fall by one woman’s hand. Her sheer power could easily be admired if she weren’t such a threat, and yet still Liza found herself in awe at the fierce display. Adele Robinson had managed to trap her in a wooden coffin made from the materials of the stage before the woman broke free, her dark magic jettisoning out of her palm like a spear and piercing her through the heart. Edward Bradbury was the last one standing, putting up one hell of a fight, the ballroom around them mostly in flames as a result of his rage. Yelizaveta was forced to watch as the man was forced to the ground, coughing up blood as the woman’s magic slivered its way down his throat. He fell unconscious as Liza’s blood ran cold. The Order had fallen.

“I gave you cowards a chance for a quick death but your predecessors have tested me patience,” the woman said. Her words were like venom, having lost its amused edge after a hard won battle. “Show yourselves!” she demanded, her eyes scanning the ballroom. “Or I’ll kill every single last one of you.”

There were only a couple of people left in the ballroom, not including Jupiter, Shiloh, Kai, Eden, and Othello. Those few civilians that remained seemed to be either unconscious or nursing an injury they’d obtained in the stampede. For an outsider it would be hard to distinguish the New Order from an ordinary witch, especially with the new members being so young. Yelizaveta knew what she had to do, what was asked of her, but she was still afraid. You’d be a fool not to be. There was a window for her friends to escape but it was closing, so she had to make her move now.

Gripping Othello’s arm one last time, Yelizaveta refused to look back; she knew they would try to stop her. Making her way to the platform, Liza addressed the woman, “I don’t think that’s necessary.” Her voice did not tremble, despite her fear, and that steadiness captured the woman’s attention instantly. Yelizaveta walked toward the stage with a confidant strut, squaring her shoulders in defiance, refusing to let her mask slip. The two women faced each other like predators in the wild, sizing one another up from a distance as one of them approached. The woman had not come out of that conflict unscathed, her dress scorched and torn in places, her necks bearing the marks of strangulation and her wrists bearing metal shackles, the chains dangling from them as if she’d broken free. Once Yelizaveta reached the stage, she looked up at the woman with a smirk of her own, as if she starred in the face of the threat and found the woman wanting. “I’m one of the ones you want.” Liza says, “Leave the others alone.”

It was a lie. Everyone in the ballroom knew as much but all was quiet, the few civilians left willing to let this protegee throw herself to the wolves if it meant they might survive.

“It certainly took you long enough to show yourself.” the woman hummed, looking the girl up and down. “Now where are the rest of you?”

Liza scowled, feeling a pang of resentment at being cast aside so quickly, “I’m afraid you won’t get to meet them.” she stated, her hands suddenly engulfed in flames.

“The new Fire Elementalist.” The woman smiled, Liza’s flames reflected in her dark eyes, “I suppose you’ll do for now. Let’s see if we can get your friends to come out and play.” Flames shot out from Liza’s hands, forming a ring of fire around herself and the mysterious woman. It amused the woman, her posture relaxed as she watched the flames dance around her. As Yelizaveta kept up her defenses, she could only hope that her friends had the forethought to at least hide if they were going to stay. She may be giving them a chance to escape, but she wasn’t fool enough to believe they might actually take it. “I don’t have time for games, little one.” said the woman, interrupting Liza’s thoughts as her dark magic spilled out of her palms once more.

All of a sudden, black smoke quickly surrounded Yelizaveta, choking her, tightening around her throat like a spectral hand. Liza screamed in panicked rage, bound by the woman’s magic, before she was completely swallowed by flames. The wall of fire around them vanished, pulled around Yelizaveta like an aura, bathing her in its crimson glow. It was a spontaneous combustion of her own design, watching as the black smoke was completely consumed by the inferno. Her eyes were all that could be seen through the fire, staring down her opponent as she took a step back, taken aback by the display. For a moment Liza thought she’d gained the upper hand, approaching the mysterious witch, making her every step a threat, her footsteps leaving scorch marks on the stage. As Liza grew nearer, the woman remained where she stood, looking at the encroaching conflagration with thinly veiled amusement in her eyes, only moving to dodge the flaming projectiles Liza threw her way.

Yelizaveta could only watch as the woman built up her magic, black smoke turning a blood red crimson, before she was devoured by it. With just a twist of her hands, the woman turned her fire against her, burning her from the inside out. Liza had spent so long conditioning her body to withstand her own magic - learning to utilize it in such a way where she wouldn’t be burned by her own flames - but she had never thought to protect herself on the inside. Her blood boiled in her veins, her insides beginning to melt, her skin splitting and peeling. She screamed in agony, fighting against the excruciating pain in order to stop herself from causing any more damage. That bitch had turned her own magic against her, and was doing everything in her power to keep her using it. Those few seconds felt like hours, but eventually she was able to extinguish the inferno she had created. Her tears felt cool against her skin, her breath rasping as her lungs struggled to expand. She fell to her knees, smoke rising off of her as if she herself were a snuffed flame. Every miniscule movement was suffering, her nerve endings like a live wire, sensitive to even the smallest hint of stimuli. And, just when the pain was at its worst, it dissipated, like the fog of morning drifting off the surface of a lake.

Yelizaveta lost consciousness where she kneeled, piquing the woman’s curiosity. She approached the young girl, her body crackling like embers on a dying fire, and she knelt down at her side. The girl’s eyes were completely glazed over, an opaque cast over them, open and staring blankly at the ground. Charred sinew peeked through the holes in her flesh, her skin flaking off in burnt crisps. The woman smiled, utterly amused by the damage she caused. As she stood back up she felt a sharp pain piercing her side. She brought her hand to her waist, wincing in discomfort, her hand red with her own blood when she finally pulled it away. She was wounded. That girl must’ve landed a hit on her after all. With a scowl the woman cast her attention to the few remaining people in the ballroom, “I’ll be back for the rest of you,” she warned. Then, with a wave of her hand and puff of black smoke, she disappeared completely before their very eyes.

Snippet #2821657

located in Salem, Massachusetts, a part of The Order: Dark Veil, one of the many universes on RPG.

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