[b][h1][center]Act Three, Scene Four: The Hunt Begins[/center][/h1][/b] The air was cold, wind roared as it whipped across the blasted landscape, there was no comfort here, there wasn’t even snow, only pure ice and frost. Up here, at the edge of the known world, so far north, ten people had gathered, they were fanatics, the most zealous of those of the North God, they had been summoned here by the voices of the wind and had journeyed through the vast and deadly wastes, all in the name of their god. Now, amidst the blasted ice and fierce winds, they stood, gathered around in a circle. In the center they had etched a large circle and strange runes as best they could with their bone and stone tools. There, layed in the circle, was a woman, a weike woman, they knew not her name, only that Sikká, their leader, had brought her after capturing her some time ago. They had no need to know her anyway, she would not last long, even if she escaped. The woman was bound, her legs and arms tied together and to each other by ropes, her mouth and eyes covered by a sack. She was unconscious, to make sure she wouldn’t cause any problems, if she struggled it would take too long, and the North God was never patient. Sikká stepped forward, she let the darkened hood fall back, revealing her face. It was adorned with choppy, self cut black hair, she was in all instances beautiful with her features and her eyes were a loving blue, but the right side of her face was adorned with a massive burn scar, ensuring only one eye worked, and her old beauty had vanished. No one knew how Sikká obtained this scar, and none of them had dared to ask, for fear of her wrath. She raised her hand, enforcing the silence that had washed over the gathered cultits, and she slowly spoke. “Brothers, and sisters,” She began, her voice determined and loud over the sweeping winds, as if almost being carried by it. “Our god, has summoned us here, and today, we shall show our devotion, to the wilds.” She reached into her outfit, pulling forth a stone dagger, sharpened to a harsh point. She stepped forward, beginning to sing a chant to the North God. The others soon joined, their voices merging with the rushing wind, forming a chorus only the far north would love. The woman, bound in the circle, began to stir, the noise awakening her. She began to trash around, trying desperately to escape her bindings, but Sikká immediately was upon her, pinning her unto the ground with her own body and weight. Raising the dagger and bringing it down over and over again, blood flying and bones snapping, the chorus only grew as the sacrifice was made, with Sikká singing the loudest. Soon, the woman fell silent, the life leaving her, the cultists continued to chant as the winds roared and roared and roared. Then suddenly stopped. The cultists, like clockwork, fell silent, their movements stopping almost immediately, even Sikká froze, the dagger raised in the air. They stood there, waiting, and waiting. Then the voice came. [color=DAA250]”While I personally would have prefered, more theatrics, I must say Sikká.”[/color] The voice drew close, as if that who bore it was right up against her ears. [color=DAA250]”Killing one who you love, is always a way to get my attention.”[/color] The other cultists stood there, silent, daring not to speak up, knowing they would take this to their grave. Sikká merely knelt there, her arms falling to her sides, dagger still in hand. [color=DAA250]”To think, they trusted you with everything, even their love, guess that was misplaced, you really, broke their heart.”[/color] Sikká sat there as the wind began to pick up once more, the snow began to collect, forming together into a tall, thin figure, with gangly arms and a faceless head and twisted antlers. Their arm slowly took Sikká’s head in its hand, turning it upwards to look at the figure that now stood behind them. [color=DAA250]”Tell me Sikká, are you loyal to me?”[/color] “Yes...yes my lord” she sputtered out, the others could see the formation of tears upon her face. But the figure took its other hand, and wiped them away. [color=DAA250]”Come now my dear, there’s no reason to cry,”[/color] Their face drew closer to hers, stopping mere inches away from it. [color=DAA250]”Afterall, you are such a devoted servant of mine are you not?”[/color] “Of...of course, i’ve gathered them all here, for you my lord.” She stared up at the being with her eyes wide open, the dagger falling from her hand as she brought her arms up towards it. Slowly trying to clasp them upon the being’s own face, but her fingers failed to grasp solid ground. Merely falling through the swirl of snow that made it up. Falling limp through the whirling horror and landing at her sides once more. A chuckle came from the horned god, echoing throughout the vast northern wilds that surrounded them. Their hands left the sides of Sikká’s head, their lanky body standing up straight as they let the woman fall forward to face the body that lay in front of her. Their head turned to the others gathered there, and they slowly walked the ring of cultists, their hollow and formless head gazing deep into each one of their souls. The cultists stood stone still, fearing what their god would do. [color=DAA250]”And tell me,”[/color] They spoke. [color=DAA250]”Are they all loyal to me as well? I would, hate to have someone not as devoted as you amongst these ranks.”[/color] They stopped and stared at one of the cultists, the empty face matching his eyes, he stood still though, not wavering, and soon the god continued. “Of course my lord!” Sikká spoke up, her head raising once more to look upon her savior. “They have followed me to the ends of the world for you! They are devoted to the path of the North!” She slowly rose, her eyes were wild, this was her dream, her life's work, as it was for many of the cultists gathered. The god stopped upon the last cultist within the circle, slowly, their hand extended outward, a single finger touching the cultist’s chin, bringing it upward, staring at the man’s face hidden beneath the cloak. For a while they stood there, the other cultists holding their breath as Sikká slowly drew forward, her legs shaking as she did. Finally, they spoke [color=DAA250]”Are, you sure my dear?”[/color] In a flash, they had grabbed the lone cultist by the throat, tossing them towards the center of the circle where the dead woman laid. He landed with a thud, the sound of cracking bones sounded out amongst the howling wind. The god glided back towards the center, soon towering over the collapsed form of the cultist, who now clutched his side in pain. The other cultists had looks of fear upon their faces, some falling to their knees muttering prayers. Sikká stood silent, her face fallen into a mixture of fear and sadness, her life’s work now hung on a precipice, she knew the North God hated false devotion, this could ruin her. For a moment, the god merely stood there, watching the cultist writhe in pain upon the cold stone ground. Then, they slowly lifted their left arm, palm up, towards Sikká. [color=DAA250]”Come here my dear Sikká, I have something for you.”[/color] A part of her mind told her not to, to run, to leave this all behind, but she knew she was in too deep. And so, she stepped forward, taking the gods hand with her own. The North God guided her forward, soon she too was standing above the cultist. Then, they guided her to kneel, soon both of their arms taking hers, one by her hand, another by her elbow. Its face was mere inches from hers, both now kneeling closer to the broken man. Those cultists who were not begging forgiveness watched on, hoping this would be the redemption they now sought. [color=DAA250]”Sikká...do you trust me?”[/color]The god asked, its voice harsh and cold, its jauntyness gone, Sikká knew she only had one answer. “Yes” A burning pain soared through her arm, no, not burning, [i]freezing[/i]. Its pain was not hot, but cold, it emitted from the God’s hands upon her arm, and crept rapidly up her arms into the rest of her body, she couldn’t help but utter a scream. The Frozen God kept their hands upon her arm, slowly guiding it forward, clasping it upon the throat of the cultist, his body too broken to fight back. She felt an otherworldly force tighten her fingers around his neck, he gasped and sputtered, fighting back the inevitable. Then, more screams began, she turned her head upwards, towards the other cultists, who too writhed in pain, some throwing off their cloaks or just fallen to the ground. Then, their forms began to change. Their skin began to turn an icy blue, starting up from their arms and slowly creeping throughout their body, the men sprouted antlers from their heads, and shaggy white hair grew across their body as their faces grew elongated, reindeer like but full of teeth. The women had their hair turn a light blue, their eyes glowed with a bluish energy as spikes of ice began to sprout and grow upon their skin. All had their legs twist and bend, becoming deer like. Covered in white or light blue fur. As she choked the life out of the cultist, Sikká too began to change, like the others her skin turned blue from where the North God held onto her arm, but she gained her own special changes. Her black hair turned pure white, her one good eye twisted into that of a predator’s with that same bluish glow. Antlers too broke from her head, but they were twisted and malformed, akin to that that stood upon the North God’s head, her mouth filled with sharp teeth. Her legs too twisted into that of a deers, but adorned with a mixture of white and blue fur. And finally, the burnt side of her face erupted with a freezing blue fire, twisting and clinging to her skin, it did not burn her, instead, it felt almost comforting in its cold form. As Sikká took in her new form as it crept across her, she heard the sudden snapping of bones and gurgling screams. Her gaze shot downward towards the cultist. Her hand had kept its grip upon him, but now, his form was changing as well, spreading outward from his neck, his skin began to become a sickly pale, his eyes had turned black and his hair fell by the clumps out of his hair, his arms and torso twisted and contorted into strange ways, only held down by her knee that had been placed upon his chest. He gurgled and spat, trying desperately to free his neck of her grip. “What...what is happening?” She asked, her voice wavering in the face of the changes. [color=DAA250]”For your loyalty,”[/color] The god whispered into her ear [color=DAA250]”you and the others are gaining my gifts, new more, appropriate forms, and some lovely powers...as for the traitor, he is, seeing the fruits of your loyalty.”[/color] The man continued to twist and corrupt, eventually, his form twisted to that beyond of any human, his arms now separated into two at the elbow, his legs had scattered, becoming spider like of multiple flailing limbs, his skin flaked off, showing a hard chitin underneath, and his force twisted into a horrifying amalgamation of flesh, chitin, and bones. Sikká could handle this no longer, mustering up all her strength she twisted her hand and the neck underneath, hearing the cracking of bone and flesh as she snapped it. The creature flailed one last time, before falling limp. She took heavy breaths, her fellow cultists gathering their strength after their own transformations. She looked up towards the North God, readying to ask more questions, but, she saw nothing, the form of ice and snow had vanished, leaving only the howling winds. She stood, taking a moment to understand her new form, her legs wobbled for a bit and she felt as if the energy had been sucked out of her, but one of the female cultists quickly came and aided her, helping her keep her balance. Sikká took stock of the others, they all seemed fine, beyond the two corpses that now sat in the center. They all stood in shock, soon enough they gathered together in a closer circle, the two female cultists aiding their leader in keeping herself upright. They looked at her, awaiting her instructions. Before she could speak, they heard another howl, not of the wind, but of beasts. They turned behind them, seeing beyond the cliff they stood upon three chariots, adorned in a light blue paint scheme, with ice scattered around their hulls, looking as if they had been stored in the frozen north for ages. Pulling them were four massive white wolves each, one of them the source of the howl that had drawn them. They could also see piles of weapons with a brown like colouring to them alongside the chariots. Sikká stood, her two companions aiding her towards the chariots, the wolves merely sat, staring up at her with their icey blue eyes, within the central chariot, adorned with the antlers of an elk at the front, she saw a pale white horn, an icey covering to it. She slowly picked it up, taking it in her hands. “What...do we do now?” One of her cultists asked, taking stock of the other chariots, with others testing the weapons they had been gifted. She thought for a moment, feeling a deep calling within her, the North God had gifted them their boon, and now, they must play their tune. “Simple, we begin our hunt.” The wind howled as the sounds of chariots sent off into the night. The Hunt had begun. [hider=Summary] We open apon a group of cultists to the North God in the far north of Toraan, they’ve gathered today to make a sacrifice to their god. Their leader Sikká shows herself and commits the sacrifice, stabbing the woman she brought till she stops struggling. Quickly afterward the North God(Yamat) appears, taking an icey form. They question Sikká a bit, soon finding a Cultist who is apparently less than devoted to them, they toss them over and get Sikká to start choking them. As she does so, both her and the cultists become twisted creatures, the men(6 in total) become like the Hunter before them, the woman(two beyond Sikká) become more akin to ice wraiths with deer lower legs. Sikká herself gets some special modifications, including the burnt side of her face gaining a cold blue fire ghost rider style. The traitor cultist also becomes corrupted, but Sikká stops that quickly, snapping their neck. The North God leaves right afterwards suddenly, and the cultists now have to deal with their new forms, though they get some sick chariots, copper weapons, and sick ice wolves. The Wild Hunt is born. [/hider] [hider=MP/Prestige] The Grand Hunt-Holy Order DP-5 Total **The Corrupted Path III** This holy order has been given the power of corruption at their fingertips. Members of this order can, with a touch of their bare hand upon bare flesh for a good solid 10 seconds, gift the plague of corruption to another mortal being, transforming them into a corrupted version of their previous form, with each result being random. The transformation occurs faster the longer the order member has their hand touching the bare flesh and can be prevented by removing the afflicted area or magical healing before the corruption takes full hold. Those corrupted still have free will and thought. 2 free points+DP **Decay’s Hounds IV** Wherever this holy order gathers, they can bring forth the might of decay. The very presence of this holy order causes the surrounding area to rot and wither away into a fungal ridden near-wasteland depending on the climate. The land does not become entirely useless, but it instead becomes extremely difficult to live within and the holy order must be gathered fully for the process to begin to take effect. The speed of the process depends on how close to being a near-wasteland the region already is and the climate and biome itself, with most normal grasslands talking about half a week to fully transform. The order leaving the area halts the process and from there the process can be reverted, either from natural processes or magical means. MP-5 total The Hunter’s Call-Artifact MP **Frost’s Mirth II**-2mp When this horn is sounded for a solid 30 seconds, it summons forth a storm of snow a brief while afterwards, over the course of the next few hours the storm picks up with intensity but it will not last more than an entire day, but during it much of the area becomes covered in ice and snow and it becomes difficult to see. The storm itself also does not cover more than a basic village area and those who sound the horn are not immune to its effects. 1 MP-Gift three thematically aligned chariots to the Wild Hunt 1 MP-Create 12 big white wolves to pull the chariots, the wolves are just normal wolves but bigger. 1 MP-Gift the Wild Hunt some copper weapons: arrows+bows, spears, and axes, enough to arm the 9 members. Prestige: The Wild Hunt: 0-->5 [/hider]