Innverse Stats

Name	Text
Belavierr Donamia	She wasn’t even good at her task. Belavierr paused as she strung the glistening red thread made of living sinew through the air. She stepped back to regard her work.
Belavierr Donamia	The Stitch Witch mused on it. What was evil? How could you know it when you saw it? She knew the world called her evil. But they called everything ‘evil’ in times. Half-Elves, when they ruled. Selphids by their turns. Minotaurs. Human tyrants. It mattered so little. Dragons, Witches—
Belavierr Donamia	Everything was evil. So, nothing was. To Belavierr, the word was abstract. She would call herself selfish. Greedy for power. She had given so much to live forever.
[Witch]	The [Witch] wondered. Did she have the strength? She had waxed and waned, with the changing world. She had never been so exposed in thousands of years. Close to mortality.
Belavierr Donamia	But perhaps because she was so close, she could understand. Perhaps that was the thing that had led to her becoming a mother. Such a strange thing. Belavierr had held babies before. Too many to count. But only one moved her immortal heart.
[Pillager]	The woman pulled at the thread hanging in the air. And it moved. Glistening red. Entrails, strung across a village. Bodies, unwound. But even this was just—artifice. A copy of a village she had seen long ago, struck by [Pillagers]. Someone had called it evil. Horrific.
Belavierr Donamia	The voice, croaking, strained and raw, came from the side. Belavierr twisted her head and turned. The tall [Witch]’s form paused, at an angle. From beneath her wide hat, her orange, ringed eyes stared. And looked at one of the figures.
[Witch]	The voice, croaking, strained and raw, came from the side. Belavierr twisted her head and turned. The tall [Witch]’s form paused, at an angle. From beneath her wide hat, her orange, ringed eyes stared. And looked at one of the figures.
Belavierr Donamia	He had no legs. No midriff. Or rather—it was only connected to his torso by a single thread. His entrails were the string Belavierr was knitting with. Something had…torn away his lower half.
Belavierr Donamia	Belavierr regarded the man like a curious insect. She glanced around. The rest of the village was silent. Eyes were open, the unwound bodies…alive. For a given value of it. But the minds behind the staring eyes, the open mouths, were gone. Pain had given way to a kind of terrible relief.
[Warrior]	But the man, the [Warrior], clung to life. He stared at her.
Belavierr Donamia	His voice strained with the effort of shaping words. Belavierr caught the other threads, unspoken. Why? Why did you do it? What did our village do? Why are we suffering? Why was I not strong enough?
Belavierr Donamia	Why, why, why? And she stopped. She looked at him for a long time. Long enough that he was foaming at the mouth, biting through his lips, struggling. But Belavierr sometimes still walked to an immortal’s time.
[Witch]	The man looked upon the smiling [Witch]. He whispered, trying to give her fear.
[Knight]	“They’ll send [Knights]. Champions. [Mages] too. They will find you and make you suffer.”
[Mage]	“They’ll send [Knights]. Champions. [Mages] too. They will find you and make you suffer.”
Belavierr Donamia	The word made him flinch. Belavierr was smiling. She laughed, then. Mocking his bravado. And she leaned down. He stared into her eyes and saw the forming rings. Many had been broken. But—the lines of her immortality were knitting slowly. He had put a sword through her chest and it had done nothing.
[Knight]	“I cannot be killed with magicless shears. And the great wonders are gone. The last of Giants rot and their descendants grow smaller. The Dragons have fallen from the skies. Send your [Knights]. They have come by the tens of thousands. And they were never enough. The world has forgotten how to kill me.”
Belavierr Donamia	His would not be enough. Even so. His eyes grew distant. He never replied. Belavierr straightened. And she looked at him.
Belavierr Donamia	She prodded him with a finger. But there was nothing left. He had cut his own strings. And for a second—the Stitch Witch was disappointed. She looked around, lost.
Belavierr Donamia	She looked at the village. At the dead man’s face. And then Belavierr turned away. Another village. Another marker. And—she glanced back.
Belavierr Donamia	Just in case. The Stitch Witch nodded. And she turned. A black horse waited for her at the outskirts of the village. Belavierr slowly mounted it and rode.
Belavierr Donamia	Just in case. The Stitch Witch nodded. And she turned. A black horse waited for her at the outskirts of the village. Belavierr slowly mounted it and rode.
Invrisil	To destroy. To commit evil, as best she could. The lands around Invrisil were quiet, filled with terror as small places went silent. But the Stitch Witch continued. There was no one to stop her. The people of this land had grown too small. And the Spider of Terandria was unmatched.
Belavierr Donamia	To destroy. To commit evil, as best she could. The lands around Invrisil were quiet, filled with terror as small places went silent. But the Stitch Witch continued. There was no one to stop her. The people of this land had grown too small. And the Spider of Terandria was unmatched.

Belavierr Donamia

She wasn’t even good at her task. Belavierr paused as she strung the glistening red thread made of living sinew through the air. She stepped back to regard her work.

Belavierr Donamia

The Stitch Witch mused on it. What was evil? How could you know it when you saw it? She knew the world called her evil. But they called everything ‘evil’ in times. Half-Elves, when they ruled. Selphids by their turns. Minotaurs. Human tyrants. It mattered so little. Dragons, Witches—

Belavierr Donamia

Everything was evil. So, nothing was. To Belavierr, the word was abstract. She would call herself selfish. Greedy for power. She had given so much to live forever.

[Witch]

The [Witch] wondered. Did she have the strength? She had waxed and waned, with the changing world. She had never been so exposed in thousands of years. Close to mortality.

Belavierr Donamia

But perhaps because she was so close, she could understand. Perhaps that was the thing that had led to her becoming a mother. Such a strange thing. Belavierr had held babies before. Too many to count. But only one moved her immortal heart.

[Pillager]

The woman pulled at the thread hanging in the air. And it moved. Glistening red. Entrails, strung across a village. Bodies, unwound. But even this was just—artifice. A copy of a village she had seen long ago, struck by [Pillagers]. Someone had called it evil. Horrific.

Belavierr Donamia

The voice, croaking, strained and raw, came from the side. Belavierr twisted her head and turned. The tall [Witch]’s form paused, at an angle. From beneath her wide hat, her orange, ringed eyes stared. And looked at one of the figures.

[Witch]

The voice, croaking, strained and raw, came from the side. Belavierr twisted her head and turned. The tall [Witch]’s form paused, at an angle. From beneath her wide hat, her orange, ringed eyes stared. And looked at one of the figures.

Belavierr Donamia

He had no legs. No midriff. Or rather—it was only connected to his torso by a single thread. His entrails were the string Belavierr was knitting with. Something had…torn away his lower half.

Belavierr Donamia

Belavierr regarded the man like a curious insect. She glanced around. The rest of the village was silent. Eyes were open, the unwound bodies…alive. For a given value of it. But the minds behind the staring eyes, the open mouths, were gone. Pain had given way to a kind of terrible relief.

[Warrior]

But the man, the [Warrior], clung to life. He stared at her.

Belavierr Donamia

His voice strained with the effort of shaping words. Belavierr caught the other threads, unspoken. Why? Why did you do it? What did our village do? Why are we suffering? Why was I not strong enough?

Belavierr Donamia

Why, why, why? And she stopped. She looked at him for a long time. Long enough that he was foaming at the mouth, biting through his lips, struggling. But Belavierr sometimes still walked to an immortal’s time.

[Witch]

The man looked upon the smiling [Witch]. He whispered, trying to give her fear.

[Knight]

“They’ll send [Knights]. Champions. [Mages] too. They will find you and make you suffer.”

[Mage]

“They’ll send [Knights]. Champions. [Mages] too. They will find you and make you suffer.”

Belavierr Donamia

The word made him flinch. Belavierr was smiling. She laughed, then. Mocking his bravado. And she leaned down. He stared into her eyes and saw the forming rings. Many had been broken. But—the lines of her immortality were knitting slowly. He had put a sword through her chest and it had done nothing.

[Knight]

“I cannot be killed with magicless shears. And the great wonders are gone. The last of Giants rot and their descendants grow smaller. The Dragons have fallen from the skies. Send your [Knights]. They have come by the tens of thousands. And they were never enough. The world has forgotten how to kill me.”

Belavierr Donamia

His would not be enough. Even so. His eyes grew distant. He never replied. Belavierr straightened. And she looked at him.

Belavierr Donamia

She prodded him with a finger. But there was nothing left. He had cut his own strings. And for a second—the Stitch Witch was disappointed. She looked around, lost.

Belavierr Donamia

She looked at the village. At the dead man’s face. And then Belavierr turned away. Another village. Another marker. And—she glanced back.

Belavierr Donamia

Just in case. The Stitch Witch nodded. And she turned. A black horse waited for her at the outskirts of the village. Belavierr slowly mounted it and rode.

Belavierr Donamia

Just in case. The Stitch Witch nodded. And she turned. A black horse waited for her at the outskirts of the village. Belavierr slowly mounted it and rode.

Invrisil

To destroy. To commit evil, as best she could. The lands around Invrisil were quiet, filled with terror as small places went silent. But the Stitch Witch continued. There was no one to stop her. The people of this land had grown too small. And the Spider of Terandria was unmatched.

Belavierr Donamia

To destroy. To commit evil, as best she could. The lands around Invrisil were quiet, filled with terror as small places went silent. But the Stitch Witch continued. There was no one to stop her. The people of this land had grown too small. And the Spider of Terandria was unmatched.

Chapter 7.18 M

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