Quote:
Originally Posted by OOC
To tame Sleipnir, you rolling a 20 and he a 1 is more than enough. And I assume you told Iridia the coordinates to your meeting place in Ivory Marrow.
As Anduilas flies out of the Hall, Sleipnir charging through the cool night air, a swarm of ravens flies after you, their cawing almost deafening. They spiral after you, trying to head you off and engulf you in their many talons. Sleipnir is nothing if not fast, however, and they have no chance of catching you. Reforming into the Gallows God, he begins to weave a spell to entrap you. Before he can do so, Iridia casts her spell, and the two of you vanish along with the mighty steed.
You appear in the same place you had left with Anon just a while before. Korug and Anon are still gone, evidently conducting errands of their own. Time looks up as you appear, grinning somewhat miserably at you. The source of his apprehension is what on first glance seems to be a pale young woman, with long white hair. She wears a lacy white wedding dress, with the veil missing. Her face is beyond a doubt the most beautiful thing you have ever seen, almost blinding in it's radiance. As you get closer, though, you see the rest of her does not do justice to the face.
Her bare arms and neck are wrapped in barbed wire, the spikes digging cruelly into her flesh. The wire evidently extend underneath her dress as well, and you can see it twisted around her bare feet. No blood comes from the wounds, for she has no blood. Her arms are the most horrifying thing though, as they seem to have been cut off at the elbow. Her forearms are large and scaly, apparently sewn onto her with black thread. They are the pale blue of long frozen corpses, and appear massive on her slight frame. They end in foot long claws that twitch and shudder at random. She stops, and you see that her beautiful face, too, is skin sewn over her true face. Her very presence induces a splitting headache. This is the Incarnation known as the Lady of Pain, hated by all.
"Anduilas, I was wondering when you'd come. It is a pleasure, as always." Her voice is that of a little girl, loud and high pitched. She extend her arm, reaching out farther than it should be able to, in a grotesque greeting. Her mask of flesh is smiling, the grafted skin perfectly mimicking a real face. You remember hearing stories in which she had cut the face off a Goddess of Love, several Pantheons before the current one. Iridia whimpers at her very presence, and Sleipnir snorts nervously, cantering back and forth.