Femme Fatale of History 2

ID: 748002
Femme Fatale of History 2

	NPC Level: 1 HP: 63 Aggression radius: 0m
Dialogs: History's Legends Book 2: Svanhild and Yrsa Before the graces of the Empyrean Lords reached Atreia's four corners, before civilization and its successors touched our lands, people were so very, very different. Among them were peasants and pillagers, priests and pagans, and two very special young girls named Svanhild and Yrsa. Svanhild and Yrsa were beautiful girls, twins born minutes from each other. Each shared the same porcelain skin and dark ebony hair--they were nigh on identical, save for their eyes. Svanhild's eyes were sapphire blue, while Yrsa's glowed ruby red, even before she had felt anger's touch. They were blessed elsewhere, too. Their father was a feudal lord, a rich man with the means to give his daughters childhoods fit for a princess. Which he did.... Every year on their birthday, the lord would commission a legendary artist to visit and paint portraits of his two daughters. He showered them with ornate jewelry, had dresses made for them by the finest designers in Pandaemonium, and filled an entire room with beautifully posed dolls, spinning serenely to calm melodies rung out from jeweled music boxes. And then there was the garden. This small secluded paradise was blocked off from the rest of Atreia by a colossal stone wall which could reduce howling gales to whispering breezes. Inside the two daughters would play and sing and dance through orchards of blossoming trees, peppered with the most colorful birds and insects known at the time. They had everything.... But as the two daughters bloomed from the Spring of their life to the Summer, their father started to feel the cold, hard grasp of Winter around his soul.... One day the lord--now an old man--called his daughters to his bedside. "My children," he started, his voice rasping and his breathing haggard, "I am near my end. Destiny has little left in store for me, but you...you are my seed. You must live on, and walk the path I have laid out." The Children looked at their father in wide-eyed horror. They had only seen Atreia's beauty until now, the rest had been hidden from them by their father, and that cold, tall wall around their garden. "Father?" The two twins spoke as one, as they often did. The lord reached forward with a trembling, skeletal hand, but the two daughters stepped back. "Look on me now, my children, and know that what you see before you is repeated throughout these lands every day. This world is a cruel place, but I have tried hard to shield its cruelties from you. Please, know only that which I have shown you. Know only beauty. Know nothing...else...." With that the lord sank into his bed, and as his lungs expelled their last dregs of air the daughters ran for the garden. Following their father's passing, the daughters began to search for elixirs and potions, secret concoctions to unlock eternal life. They looked on their old birthday portraits and realized that their faces, beautiful as they were, would not stay so forever. Their servants and maids were sent all through the lands, and brought back hideously expensive vials of impotent liquids and useless gels. They spent so much money that their treasure rooms began to dwindle, and when they had been exhausted the furniture their father had commissioned was sold as well. But still, they aged. They became desperate, and looked to more radical solutions.... One day, a young girl disappeared from a nearby village. The villagers were distraught and appealed to a nearby duke for help. He agreed to assist the search, and sent an investigator to the village. He searched high and wide, through forests and streams and caves and fields, but found nothing. He even went to the twins' mansion and interviewed Yrsa and Svanhild, but could find nothing of interest. Instead, the investigator found himself falling in love with Svanhild and her bright, sapphire-blue eyes. He forgot his investigation and began courting her. But then, unexpectedly...the missing girl was found. She was in a distant city, and completely unharmed. Yet something inside her had changed--she had lost the joy of life that all girls her age had. She was tired and weary, and told the investigator that she had no interest in returning to her village. Two days later, though she was only eleven years old, she died of what appeared to be natural causes. Yes, she had died of old age. Despite this curiosity, the detective prepared to travel back to his Duke's residence, believing the investigation over. But before he left, he wanted to say goodbye to Svanhild. When he arrived he decided to let himself in. But when he opened the door to the twins' mansion, he immediately collapsed.... He awoke in a dark and dusty basement. Dull lights flickered overhead, and in the far corner a small figure was busy at work. "Must...hurry! Must finish!" The investigator pulled himself up, and looked over. "Who...who are you?" The figure turned, and stared at the investigator with bloodied, vacant eyes. He stepped closer, then jumped up in fear. "No," shrieked the figure. "Must finish task. Must take souls for the soulless. Soulless twins. Must must must must must m...." The figure stopped to listen. Footsteps drew near. He ran away into the darkness, and the investigator--fearing for his life--jumped into a cart and hid under some heavy bags. Soon something came and started wheeling the cart, and after a few minutes daylight kissed the investigator's face again. A short time afterward, the cart was tipped, and the bags--and the investigator--were all dumped into a ditch. The investigator immediately jumped up and ran for the nearby village, having seen with horror what was in each of the bags: the bodies of young girls! An hour later the mansion was surrounded. The villagers--led by the investigator--were livid, and charged the main door open. They moved quickly from room to room, searching for the twin sisters but finding only empty, cobwebbed rooms and dust-covered floors. But there was the garden. And so as one they slowly approached, listening to the enchanting tune coming from its depths.... The twin sisters were indeed within the glorious garden, but while they had once been beautiful and porcelain-skinned, now they were revolting, vile figures. Their hair was grey and knotted, their faces drawn and grey, and their eyes, once so distinct, had turned black as an Asmodian night. They were nothing but rotting carcasses, somehow clawing at the remnants of life. The investigator bravely stepped forward, but as he did the twin sisters screamed as one. The garden flashed blood red, and all the villagers passed out.... They awoke to a horror scene. The garden had withered and died, and there were half-dug graves filled with half-buried corpses everywhere. The investigator was nowhere to be found.... ...but in his place was the man that the investigator had spoken to earlier. He was Jerfinaer, once one of Atreia's most legendary alchemists, now a broken and trembling wreck of a man. He told them his story through wails and floods of remorseful tears. Jerfinaer had been commissioned by the lord many years ago, initially to create toys and devices that would entertain the two sisters. But after his death, the sisters themselves ordered him to keep them young. At first he developed creams and ointments, but the sisters still saw their faces aging, and demanded more. Much more. Through torture they convinced him to work on a new, horrific method: the alchemist would remove the very souls from young girls, and infuse the sisters' spirits with them. However, the technique was not perfect, and many girls had died from his experimentations. Still they ordered him on, and Jerfinaer--trapped as he was--had no choice but to help them. Their lust for eternal life had resulted in the deaths of so many innocents, and the twin sisters--born into nobility and with all they could ask for--sank lower than any had before, and took much from many. The end. (There's a small note here, placed between the final page and the rear cover.) Interesting. Fairytale or true? The mansion no longer exists, but did once. What of the paintings? Needs investigating. C

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[pos:Femme Fatale of History 2;1 120010000 1329.3 1051.6 0.0 0] [pos:Femme Fatale of History 2;1 120010000 1329.8 1051.6 0.0 0] [pos:Femme Fatale of History 2;1 120010000 1329.8 1051.6 0.0 0]

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