[center][h1][b][u][color=Maroon]Fe’ris[/color][/u][/b][/h1][/center] [hr] [color=Maroon] “You have done well, Fennelle.”[/color] “Jumpin’ jimminy!” The vampire leapt a foot into the air, startled. Her ghoulish reflexes still not enough to keep her from spilling the bowl of sacred water all across the tile. She cursed under her breath and picked up the shattered pot pieces, stuffing them into her heavy robes and shooting a nasty look at the god. “Do you have to sneak up on me like that?” Fe’ris shrugged, his long cloak whispering across the floor. In any other building, the stained glass panes would’ve cast mesmerizing rainbows across the dark floor, their high, elegant shapes harnessing the sun to create colorful works of art. Yet the light that came through was minimal, the glass tempered and painted with choice minerals so that the deadly sunlight might not touch within the haunted halls. Every aspect of the cathedral had been engineered with one aesthetic in mind: foreboding. And that sense of foreboding wrapped around Fennelle as she faced the god she had faced all those years ago, before the Cult had grown to spread its crypts across south Kubrazjar. [color=Maroon]”I can sneak up if I wish. This is my holy site, after all.”[/color] Fennelle huffed and stood at her full height, almost rivaling that of the god. The spring burbled behind them, its headwaters tamed and surrounded by holy masonry. “You’re welcome, by the way! Do you have any idea how difficult it is to convince bloodthirsty monsters to give up hunting long enough to build castles and chapels and crypts and whatnot?” [color=maroon]“I would imagine,”[/color] he murmured, swishing by her to pick up a few of the shards, [color=maroon]“that it’s not very hard at all, given the nature of my blessing.”[/color] The god rolled it around in his fingers. [color=maroon]“They are eager to create, are they not? Just like you.”[/color] She folded her arms and huffed. “It’s not easy. We can only build at night, and the mortals that know of us are too terrified to strike up trade of any sort. Your cult is isolated and stagnant. It cannot grow any further.” [color=maroon]“Ah, that is all true.”[/color] With a swift slice, he tore a gash in his blackened hand, dripping the godly blood into the spring, turning the pool it bubbled from a deep maroon. He dipped the shard in, and when he pulled it out, it was not fired clay, but a sliver of silver. [color=maroon]“Even with my spring?”[/color] Fennelle nodded. “Even with your spring. We need people, plain and simple. All the cultists, vampire or not, are too preoccupied with protecting their hoards to go out and spread the good word.” [color=maroon]“What keeps you from doing so?”[/color] “I have responsibilities! You know, the ones you gave me and Araon? I can’t just leave.” She pushed past him, dumping the broken bowl in and pulling out one slightly smaller, but far more whole. [color=maroon]“He has the soul of a wanderer, even in his growing years. And you, Fennelle, have a commanding presence. Speak, and you will he heard.”[/color] The bat god tugged on the tiny, fragile strip of silver, molding it with his hands into a strange cloth, with shiny threads that moved as if it had a mind of its own. [color=maroon]“What might it take you to convince you two to abandon what you have built, provided the effort expended by yourselves sees that the cult grows further?”[/color] “I want to take my hoard with me,” blurted Fennelle, before she could even consider what he was proposing. “I want a way to carry it all, without having to worry about weight or thievery. And I don’t want to fear the sun any longer.” [color=Maroon]”As you wish.”[/color] He spun the cloth around in his hands, shaping a bag that shimmered and glimmered in his black fingers. The god tossed it at her feet, and the bag sat upright, its strap moving around like a judgmental pair of eyebrows. It hopped forward, mouth opening and closing like it wanted something to contain. When the vampire bent to slide it over her shoulder, an intense tingling sensation ran through her body, fierce as lightning and cold as a winter wind. When it faded, she looked up at the muted light coming in through the glass panes overhead, and found her eyes to be far less sensitive. [color=Maroon]”I think now you will find sunlight to be not so deadly, though I would not suggest seeking it out on your own. But my boons do not come so cheaply.”[/color] Though fascinated by her new abilities, Fennelle noticed the sharp hint to the god’s tone. “What do you mean? What must I do in return?” [color=Maroon]“Not you. Him.”[/color] As if summoned, Araon bumbled in, a little grayer for his years but no less excitable. The human cultist gaped at Fe’ris, enchanted by the god’s elegant, yet pointy, attire. “Oh wow! A god, and not just any god, but our god! Right here, in one of our churches! Fennelle, do you see this? Are you seeing this? Oh man, it’s really him! I’m so honored to be in your presence, Lord--” A wave of the bat god’s hand, and Araon crumpled, tiny pouches of who-knows-what tumbling from his pockets. Fennelle gasped as his tan skin paled, his hair turning thick and gray. Color leached out of him, and to the layman’s eye, it really looked as if he was dying. “Fe’ris! Your Holiness, stop! You’re killing him!” She pulled at her braided hair, wanting to stand in their way but terrified of what might happen if she did. The violet eyes glittered with amusement. [color=Maroon] “Oh, am I?”[/color] He gestured to the man on the floor once more, and Araon stood up, possessing an odd youthfulness despite his apparent age. [color=Maroon] “My, I had no idea. Araon, do you feel like I’m killing you?”[/color] “No, my Lord.” Araon knelt, his eyes the same violet as the god’s. “I feel nothing but loyalty. I shall continue to serve you, and be your living will on Galbar. And also go on adventures and stuff.” Fe’ris nodded and turned back towards the fountain. [color=Maroon]”Go, then. Make me proud.”[/color] Araon leapt up and tugged on Fennelle’s hand. “Come on, you heard him! Let’s explore! Let’s go see what all there is to see on Kubrazjar!” Fennelle sighed, but secretly, she was thrilled. Hiding in stone crypts got boring after a while. She couldn’t wait to see the world. [hider=Summary] Fennelle is hanging out in a sacred church when Fe’ris appears at the holy site and scares the shit out of her. They argue for a second and he tells her to spread the cult even more, and find more people to induct. She says she has responsibilities, and she’s a hoarder and likes her things. He gives her a magic bag to keep stuff in. He also makes her incapable of dying from sunlight alone, and turns her human buddy Araon into his avatar. Then they presumably leave to go explore! [/hider] [hider= MP Summary] Fe’ris: 3 MP/5 DP 2 MP Hero: Fennelle Fennelle the Vampire Hero (2MP) Stone Sun II: Instead of turning to dust in sunlight, the hero turns to stone, and can only revert to flesh after a week of pure darkness. They are as hard to destroy in this state as an actual stone statue, but if broken in any way, should the hero be able to turn back into flesh, they will be missing whatever is broken off. Super Swell Sack- Artifact 1 MP Bag of Holding I (1MP)- The bag can hold any object, provided it can be fit through the 1/2ft x 2ft opening. However, it can only hold twice the weight of what the user would normally be able to carry, so if the user cannot carry an elephant, then the bag cannot carry two elephants. Desire of the Holder II (2DP, discounted to 0 by Ambition port): The bag will mentally link itself to whoever held it last. It will obey their simple commands, and will possess a basic intelligence- jumping after them if left behind, writhing around if trying to be stolen, etc. The bag can only be opened by whoever it is linked to, and is rather difficult to steal. If stolen, it must be befriended by the thief over a long period of time in order to form another mental link and relinquish its contents. Finish 0MP/5DP, Transmutation 6/5 [/hider]