Though Dalanesca had not held the mantle of Death and Shadows for very long, she had already come to find that there were many, many beliefs throughout Revaliir in regards to what exactly her spheres entailed. Different races and different cultures had different ideas on what enveloped Death and Shadow, and she found that to be rather refreshing. The different sects also seemed to have different ways to attempt to communicate with her - and she found some more inviting than others. There were many that she had thus far ignored - but on this particular night, she sensed that near Vilpamolan, a sacrifice was taking place - and that sacrifice was of one of the lowest of the low.
It seemed that a group of priests, who had dedicated themselves to a temple in her honor, had garnered a sacrifice guilty of crimes against young innocents - those were the ones that Dalanesca hated the most, the ones that would be sent to the Ninth Circle of Inferos to be frozen again and again by the Frost Maidens. She despised the ruiners, the takers of the innocent, and knew that they deserved to suffer more than any other guilty party.
Ritual sacrifice was nothing new in terms of the types of summonings she had been privy to, but there had yet to be one that she had responded to. For some reason, most of the parties seemed to be under the impression that she wanted them to sacrifice innocents to her - but it was quite the opposite. She did not want innocents to be sacrificed - she wanted the worst of the worst… and that seemed to be what this group was doing.
She could sense the ritual that was about to take place, and she could sense the corruption within the sacrifice they were about to use. This caused her to pay special attention to this particular situation, and a devilish smile spread across her lips - it was time.
Just as the priests’ fireballs lit the corruptor aflame, a sourceless wind blew through the cemetery. It did not extinguish the flame, but it did cause the fire to flutter in its breeze. After a time, it was clear that the sacrifice at the center was both dead and heavily charred. Dalanesca appeared behind the group, out of the line of sight, observing for a short period of time. It was unclear to her who had wished for her appearance the most of the group, but she could sense a lessened sense of urgency from those further from the sacrifice. With a wave of her hand, three of the priests off to the sides began to clutch at their throats. A thick, black, tar like substance began to gurgle forth from their lips, clearly choking them. They fell to their knees, before keeling over - they had clearly perished from whatever dark magic had overcome them. The substance trickled from their ears, noses, eyes, and mouths.
The goddess smiled at the site before her - they were not worthy of an audience with her - she could sense it. There were others, who seemed more keen on the idea of her appearance - no harm would come to them… at least not yet.
”You have sought me out, and here I am,” she said, her voice low and smooth. She was dressed in a fitting manner - a black tunic with long sleeves which fell off her porcelain colored shoulders, and a red leather corset around her waist. Her black skirts had long slits up either side, revealing black and red leather high boots with lace beneath them. Various holsters with blades sheathed in them could be seen about her person. It was clear that she was not someone to be trifled with, even if she had been mortal. Her dark hair fell in waves around her bare shoulders, and her icy blue eyes surveyed them, standing out shockingly against the charcoal surrounding her eyes. Her lips, painted a deep crimson blood red, parted to speak once more. ”You’d do well to inform me why I have been called here from Inferos - my patience is not to be tested,” she said. The words were quiet, but there was a sharpness to her tone unlike any other.
