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 Old Becomes New {LoH/DR open} 
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Stablehand
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Post Old Becomes New {LoH/DR open}
OOC: This thread is primarily for ex-members of Demonic Reality and Legions of Hell, however if you had interactions with these guilds in the past, and want to post, then feel free. Also, please note that this thread has nothing to do with bringing back either DR or LoH: that will not happen. This is for old members to get a chance to interact again, and revisit the old plot...

IC:

Pale moonlight shone through the skeletal arms of the barren trees, casting eerie shadows on the shattered ground surrounding the dark monastery. A tentative breeze tugged at the boughs, causing the dark forms below to dance erratically, like puppets bound by invisible strings. Small creatures scuttled in and out of the patches of blackness surrounding the building on a multitude of legs, their carapaces a shade of murky crimson and their many eyes gleaming like polished onyx gemstones. The doors to the shrine lay permanently open, the great stone slabs cracked and scorched as if hit by a bolt of lightning. Like a gaping maw, the entrance to the monastery devoured all light, its stygian blackness complete.

Far below the earth, in the heart of the shrine of Cynosura, a single candle flickered wanly in the darkness, stubbornly refusing to gutter out. It had held a solitary watch over the room for months, far beyond the normal lifetime of a common candle, far longer than it ever wanted to illuminate this grim scene. The altar of a long dead elven god lay shattered against the wall, rusty stains of dried blood painting the many cracks and crevices of its remaining surface area. At the foot of the ruined relic lay a crumpled body, its head slumped forward, locks of jet-black hair glistening in the faint light. The corpse’s arms and legs were splayed out to either side of its torso like a grotesque rag doll, as if it were thrown with great force at the altar, and never recovered. The other side of the room held a scene that was no more pleasant: upon a chest high ceremonial dais was another corpse. The female body lay rotting on the sacrificial table, her arms and legs still chained to the dais, her figure gaunt and hollow, the sunken features evidence of the extensive internal decay that had already taken place.

A soft ruffle of cloth on cloth broke the sacred silence of the dead, and a whisper of movement disrupted the stillness of the air, causing the small flame to sway. The rustling came again, more pronounced than before, as the corpse beneath the altar slowly pulled one arm to its chest. Shakily, as if heavily burdened by the weight of eternity, the man stood up, and bracing himself against the ruined holy relic, shook his head groggily. With hard brown eyes he stared at the guttering candle as if mesmerized, his delicate elven features framed by a tangled mass of black hair. He took a great heaving breath, his first since he had stood, and let out a long hacking cough, spitting bile and blood to the stone floor below.

There will be Hell to pay for this, the lord of Pandemonium said, his voice deadly sharp like a dagger, she will suffer. Felldion’s fangs gleamed dangerously in the candlelight as he spoke, his face contorting in a mask of anger. He had been beaten, and badly, at the hands of the demoness. The wounds to his body took months to heal; the wound to his pride would take far longer.

~ ~ ~ Later ~ ~ ~

Felldion sat in the altar room, hunched over the sacrificial dais, a quill in hand. The corpse of the elven priestess lay on the floor festering, pus-laden vitae oozing from rips in her fragile skin, the white maggots that writhed throughout her frame becoming visible occasionally through the open wounds. The single candle had been replaced by a brilliant white orb hanging magickally in the center of the room, conjured up from the vampire’s arcane energies. Behind him milled a sea of gibbering imps, the fiendlings scraping and clawing at each other, biting and gnashing. Felldion ignored it all, intent on the parchment before him.

Quote:

Demon Lords of the Legions of Hell,

A time of change draws near, and the balance of power has begun to shift once more. What was new is becoming old, and the old will soon be with us once more. Much of our power was lost when the Chaotic One fell from grace, and was banished from this world, however the time has come to take back what is rightfully ours: the soul of the wretched world. We must act quickly, gather together once more, and reseat The Shadow Lord on his Onyx Throne.

Through fast action and ruthlessness we can secure the Lord of Entropy’s position as the only true god, and annihilate his siblings from this orb. There is no place for order or balance on Tonan, only blessed chaos.

If we are to be successful, Malcron must be summoned forth. I cannot accomplish this task alone, and though I know we are scattered in these faithless times, we must now draw together. Wolfe Isle is as good a place as any to gather, and so I ask you all to join me in my Monastery, and we can begin from there.

Make haste, lest the heathens move to stop us.

May the blood of the innocent stain your blades,

Felldion Herspane
Master of Pandemonium
Lord of the Demonic Reality
Servant of the Legions of Hell


Tossing aside the quill, the vampire lord again summoned the demonic magicks of the infernal Pandemonium, duplicating the parchment dozens of times. Turning, he tossed the mass of paper at the gathered imps, watching with satisfaction as each horrid creature rushed to snatch one for itself. You will each seek out a Legionnaire, and deliver your parchment to him or her. I will personally destroy any of you that do not make a successful delivery, is that clear? In response the hellspawn began disappearing rapidly, tiny puffs of brimstone left in their wake. He knew there were more imps than demons to deliver to, however after months of death, he needed some amusement.

_________________
We're all demons inside....


Mon Oct 21, 2002 7:15 pm
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[ooc..I'll cut the journey short so's I can get straight in here *grins* Hope that's ok]

IC..

Malcron...
He whispered the name hesitantly, almost as though he were afraid to say it out loud, afraid that others would hear that name. The time was drawing near, as he had always known it would and he was dutybound to join the vampire lord at his monastery, no matter what the differences between them were.. he would be a part of this event.

The Torturer slumped back in his chair and the wood creaked angrily as it supported his weight. In his hand he held the scribe from Felldion, from his old leader, it was a scribe he had never thought would arrive, but secretly knew that it was as inevitable as the sunset. His free hand wavered above the candle that sat on his desk, the tip of its flame licked hungrily at his palm and he closed his eyes as the small shivers of mild pain raced through his body.

I always knew you'd return, vampire.
Stygian eyes flickered open and a cruel smirk graced his thin lips. The demon tossed the scribe casually onto the desktop before standing up and padding softly across the chamber. His hand reached up, fingertips gently stroking the whips and flails that hung from the rafters, his lingering touch causing the steel links of the flails to jangle against one another and create a quiet melody for the dancing shadows that were clinging jealously to the demon.

He couldn't help wondering exactly who would be at this gathering there were some who once followed the Reality that now followed the Officium, some of the Legions had also pledged their armies to the cause. Maledict had always known that a name meant little though, they all fought for the same reasons, the same motives that they had always fought for.

To bring sufferance to the heathens.

This was the main objective, or at least, it had always been the main objective of the Torturer.

Without a word to anyone he left his city and journeyed to the Monastery.

...........Much Later...........

Everything was exactly as he remembered it, a glorious evil hung heavily in the atmosphere around the monastery, seeping into everything, tainting the very ground itself with its pure darkness. A sigh escaped the lips of the demon, almost as though he felt relieved to be here amongst such evil.
In truth, he felt that he had just come home.

The demon moved quickly into the bowels of the monastery, briskly walking down each winding corridor with grim determination. He knew exactly where he was going and exactly how to get there.
He pushed open the heavy doors and stepped inside, stygian gaze darted across the scene before finally settling on the sight he had been looking for, the face that he hadn't seen for such a long time.
Such a very long time.
That face hadn't changed though, jet black hair still framed the pale features, sharp fangs still gleamed with dark promises.
Maledict turned his back on the vampire and closed the door.

So..
He spoke in his usual hushed tone and turned to face his old leader, the one he had followed onto many battlefields in days gone by.
I have answered your call, vampire.
He moved slowly into the centre of the room, a grin on his face as the stench of decay crept insidiously into his nostrils.
Glorious decay.
I offer myself to aid in his return.

_________________
The Torturer


Last edited by Maledict on Tue Oct 22, 2002 5:43 pm, edited 3 times in total.

Tue Oct 22, 2002 4:23 am
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She had watched the hellspawn messenger arrive at the keep. It was unusual enough to capture her attention and she had run to Maledict's office, only to find the door closed to her. Frowning irritably, she resorted to the method she always relied on when her plans to hear the Torturer's business were thwarted. She eavesdropped at the door. The Demon never had fixed the space under the door that allowed her to hear what was going on. His servants were cowed enough not to even attempt spying, but even if they weren't there weren't any that had the capacity to hear things like Demetria could. Her very sensitive hearing had come in great use in the past. It didn't help her now. Whatever the message received, Maledict was not talking. She managed to move away and around the corner just before he opened the door and left.

What had the message been? It must have been something very important for him to leave without word to anyone at all. It must have been very important for him to leave without at least telling her first. He knew she would have wanted to accompany him. She had never said anything, but she did not like when he left her behind. There was always some small part of her that feared he would never return. He wasn't going to leave her behind this time either. If he was trying to keep it a secret, then she'd let him believe he had succeeded, but she wasn't going to be left. She'd just have to follow him.

*** *** ***

He obviously hadn't expected to be followed. It had been easier than any other time she had attempted such because he hadn't made any attempts to take unknown paths and trails. He also hadn't attempted to obscure the trail he made. Which begged the question, why not just take her with him if he was going to make it so easy for her? What exactly had been in that message? Whatever it had been, it was enough to cause the Demon to be so focussed on his destination that he wasn't aware of where he had left.

She frowned. She'd ended up covering up both of their trails for him and staying as close as she could without him seeing her- just so she could look out for any danger that he might blatantly ignore. He may have felt impervious to harm, but she knew firsthand what could happen when he wasn't being himself. And he did not seem himself now. She would have goaded him about his lack of precaution if she weren't trying to keep her own presence secret from him.

They had finally reached his apparent destination though. He had just gone into a monastery and she was left standing in the tree-lines, a delicious prickling chilling her skin. This place was unadulterated evil. She had been thinking to protect him, but now she felt like perhaps she had underestimated him and overestimated herself. For the first time in a long time, she felt a slight worry for herself. Perhaps it was time to let him know she'd followed. It was better to have evil on your side than against you- and coming uninvited to a place was the surest way to death. Maledict had obviously been invited. For her own safety, she had to somehow get the invitatin extended. Even if it meant showing her hand before she had originally planned.

Letting out a resigned sigh- she hadn't wanted to expose herself to the Torturer just yet- she made her way to the monestery door. If he refused to let her stay...

She'd never been good at following orders. She'd deal with that when it happened. She wasn't a child that had to obey him any longer. He'd figure that out soon enough. Hopefully, it wouldn't be necessary for her to assert her independance at this time though. She glanced around carefully before carefully stepping through the monestery door and silently following the footsteps in the dust in front of her. They led her to the basement.

The place had not been used in a very long time if the cobwebs and dirt were any indication. It made her feel closed in, almost entrapped. She didn't like the feeling and wanted to go back outside, but Maledict was in here and she knew instinctively that her presence would have already been noticed by some being. She needed to be with her guardian now. Straightening her shoulders, she forced the feelings of nervousness and unease down into her stomach and continued forward.

Her gaze fell on the two men in the center of the room.

_________________
It's not paranoia if they really are out to get you.
Desire is hunger is the fire I breathe...
...the night belongs to us.


Tue Oct 22, 2002 6:30 am
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He stood silently at the edge of his wood-framed window and stroked the chin. Outside were endless miles of useless marshland as far as the human eyes could see, stinking up his firmly build castle, but the smell no longer bothered him. He had gotten used the to stench having lived in this one place for over a century. There were no major human cities around and so his unnatural long life would heed no mischief from the locals. Those warm-blooded humans that did happen to wander on to his lands were captured and thrown into the dungeons for that special midnight snack.

Still the waning night rolled on and Brehon's eyes reflected the silvery moonlight that penetrated his dull and bare room. Sighing he looked down at the small stagnant moat surrounding the rising stone walls of his palace. It was a pitiful sight really. The only thing living with in the murky waters was his pet; a ten-foot serpent that protected its territory with fierceness and pure determination. Brehon could see the long scaly body surfacing only slightly sending concentric ripples across the dark waters. His watery blue eyes moved across the landscape and settled on the dark forest's edge, the only way to safely make it to his kingdom. The rest of Brehon's lands was surrounded by jagged and rough mountains lurking with creatures of the Wild even he could not describe. If the beasts of the mountains didn't kill the adventurers, Brehon surely would.

Slowly turning around to a faint scratching noise that annoyed his sensitive ears, Brehon gazed upon a slight creature known as an imp. The imp stopped dragging his dulled nails across the hardwood floors as he saw Brehon glaring at him. Held within its claw was a wrinkled and aged parchment. Making his way toward the pathetic beast, Brehon snatched the leaflet from its hand and gently pet the imp on the head. The vampire chuckled softly as the stupid creature began to purr at his touch.

Merloc, come get this thing out of my chambers, Brehon hissed. As he finished his sentence, a tall, dark creature with his head covered by a black mask entered the chamber of his master. Reaching down with a single hand, Merloc grabbed the imp by the collar and turned to leave. Merloc, The servant turned to gaze up on his master. Take the faithful servant of chaos to the kitchens for a meal, Brehon stroked his chin gently and smile wickedly winking at the struggling imp, and have it butchered for the common prisoners in the dungeons. I'm sure they would appreciate some fresh meat.

The imp began to try and wiggle away from the powerful grasp of Merloc, but failed miserably. A faint scream could be heard as the imp was taking unwillingly to its death. Brehon looked at the parchment in his pale hand and opened it with caution. It had been years since anyone had sent a message to this land, and only one knew of his whereabouts, Lord Felldion. Brehon's eyes quickly scanned over the words and stopped. Raising an eyebrow in intrigue, the Kindred spirit read over the letter again to make sure he had read it correctly. Lord Felldion lives and he has recalled my services as the lead of his assassins. The thoughts of the old days raced through his mind.

Brehon walked over to the window once again and stared out at the ever-lightening evening. Daybreak was upon the horizon and the signs were apparent. The blackness of the sky was slowly fading into a rainbow of color and the heat of the approaching sun began to scorch the ancient vampire's pale skin. Sighing he drew the curtains shut blocking out the morning's light. He turned and walked toward the center of his room placing the parchment on his desk before sitting down into his leather chair. For years, I have thought about the assassinations that brought world chaos and destruction, and still I yearn for it. It is my second Hunger that guides me, and so I shall return to you, My Lord; my brother.

It had taken very little time for him to decide for a tugging at his still heart made the decision simple. A wicked smile curled over his thin colorless lips and called for Merloc once again. Merloc, please bring me one of my "honored" guests. I need a bit of a morning snack, and also have a horse prepared for my by nightfall. I have an urgent call that must be answered. The large servant nodded and removed himself from Brehon's room.

A few minutes later, a young human female was pushed into his room. She looked extremely frightened, but it mattered not. Silently Brehon moved in around behind her and gently caressed her neck, and he could feel her naked body shivering under his cold touch. She slowly turned around and met his watery blue eyes with her doe brown eyes. She was certainly an innocent and that was how he liked them. There was nothing more refreshing than a healthy, young virgin. Slowly he drew his finger lightly across her smooth, soft skin of her chin pushing her head up to expose her beautiful neck. She whimpered with little resistence as he gently bit into her neck. Drinking deeply from her warmth for a few moments, Brehon quietly released her neck from the grasp of his fangs and laid her lifeless body on the ground before him. He never mutilated his meals for in his mind it was disrespectful, but for his prey it was another matter.

[center]Brehon Rouraidh
"And, round about his home, the glory / That blushed and bloomed
Is but a dim-remembered story / Of the old time entombed."

Edgar Allan Poe, The Fall of the House of Usher[/center]


Last edited by Brehon Rouraidh on Fri Oct 25, 2002 4:43 pm, edited 1 time in total.

Wed Oct 23, 2002 2:15 pm
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Into the damp darkness of the Underdark came forth a vortex of shadows. The vortex grew in a violent storm; the room shook as the vortex to a form. As it faded as quick as it came, the form coming forth was of ShadowWander. He had returned quickly to his dark kingdom. He had returned home from the Tavern of his guild Brother Prophet. He had felt the call of ages past renewed. He knew he was calling and where he was being summoned. The onyx throne reborn to the bowels of darkness and fire and the vampire Felldion.

ShadowWander quietly stopped and thanked his Mistress of darkness for her shadowy travel.

I thank thee my Mistress of shadows. I shall need to call on you again soon for my quick travel Cynosuran Monastery with in the realms of the isle of Wolfe.


ShadowWander turned after speaking with the Mistress of Shadows and summoned his chamberlain. As the chamberlain enter he bowed deeply to ShadowWander Then quickly he held up a message that had arrived in his absence.
Lord ShadowWander This message came in your absence. It is from a Lord Felldion.

ShadowWander grasped the message from the chamberlain’s hand, reading it quickly but in his soul he knew what the message was about without reading it. ShadowWander folded the message up and turned his gaze to his chamberlain.

Chamberlain I will be leaving again soon for a trip. But I want you to gather something for me. Go to my private slave pens and select for me 2 female slave of purity and beauty. One of fiery red hair the other hair of blackest stone. Bring them to me stripped, bathed and collared. I want them here with in the hour. Understood?
Aye My Lord ShadowWander it shall be done immediately.

The Chamberlain bowed deeply stepping back 3 paces he turned and quickly set about his task. But soon before the hour was up the knock at the door came. Enter ShadowWander called out. It was the chamberlain leading by 2 leashes what he had asked for. His grin grew as his dark eyes fell upon the 2 beautiful nude slave girls. One had the hair of a fiery demon the other hair of a black pearl. Their smooth flesh gleamed in the light of flickering torch light. What excited ShadowWander more was the fear he sees in their eyes. Stepping close to them, they were pushed to their knees by the chamberlain as he barked at them to bow to Lord ShadowWander and their owner and Master. He looked to them inspecting their appearance, as he slides a single finger upon their ample breasts.
Indeed fine slaves they shall make most pleasing toys of pleasure.

ShadowWander turned grasping the chain leashes from the chamberlains offering palms. He snatched the leashes harshly, hearing what he desired to hear, soft moans passing their supple lips. Fear shined bright with the slave’s soft eyes as ShadowWander snatched the chain pulling them to their feet. ShadowWander tugged the slaves along behind him as he walked towards the balcony. He looked into the darkness and spoke to his Mistress of shadows.

Shadows of darks I call to thee. Come to me My Mistress and grant your walking shadow your power of travel. I travel to the vampire Fellidon of Cynosuran Monastery in the Isle of Wolfe.

The shadows came once again as a growing vortex of misted shadows. The two slave girls trembled of fear and whispering pleads for safety and mercy. As the vortex grew it formed to ShadowWander and the slaves. Quickly all were gone traveling the shadows of night to the Cynosuran Monastery. With in seconds ShadowWander stepped from the appearing vortex tugging along his collared slaves. ShadowWander knew and remembered this place well. He stepped in to the great doors tugging along his toys. He moved to where he knew Felldion would be. As he reached the doorway he opened it swing it open. His eyes burned black with dark fire seeing his old guildmates and followers of Malcron and the Onyx Throne. He gazed to Felldion then to Maledict. Not seeing any need to not show his true form as he was days past. Closed his eyes briefly opening quickly the dark fire with his eyes erupting to bright whispings of flames his form shifted to his true demonic soul bare through the gaze of his burning eyes.

Greetings, Felldion and Maledict. Vampire I needed not your note to sense the rise of the Onyx throne once again. His dagger like tooth grin grew upon his lips. It has been along time my friends, as always I brought the party favors.

With a slight chuckle, ShadowWander yanked hard on the chain leash he grasped. Sending the naked slaves to the floor, open to all to gaze upon. The slaves groaned as they hit the floor. Their fingers grasped at the floors looking up slowly with fear teary eyes. ShadowWander gazed to the naked beauty with a slight chuckle upon his lips.




[center]
ShadowWander

~Shadow Demon of Darden~
<<<<<<<< Sanctum Officium<<<<==I==0
Scream, Scream louder Heathen! You're agony is a symphony to my ears[/center]


Thu Oct 24, 2002 2:45 pm
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From the darkness he suddenly came in to being, slipping sliently back from the realm of shadows to the world of flesh. The smoldering fires in his eyes took in those few who were left. The demon lords of hell gathered, now fewer in number, but those who were left were the very backbone of chaos. From them all things were possible.

Ages ago the Legions of Hell had walked the lands in numbers that made the earth tremble. Too long has it been since his lord Leto's name fell reverantly from the lips of the faithful. Yet the new gods had their uses, chaos lived and breathed if under a different diety, it still lived.

And those gathered would see to the spreading of that chaos. The burning embers in his eyes met each of the those of the lords gathered around. He'd known them all a very long time, some from nearly the beginning.

"Greetings my brothers *dramatic pause* and sisters of Hell"

_________________
Fools, you think to destroy me?!?! I am darkness!!! I am the night!!! With each sunset I am reborn!!!


Fri Oct 25, 2002 5:07 am
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The sun had risen and fallen and Brehon made his way to Cynosuran Monestary on Wolfe Isle. It was an uneventful ride, as nothing bothered or hindered his trip to the ancient temple. Turning and looking out to the shores of the isle, Brehon could make very little in the inky blackness of the night sky and ocean waters, even with his enhanced vision. Closing his eyes, he listened to the rhythmic sound of the rough ocean surf pounding away at the rocky shoreline. Each time crossing the small channel to get to the island, he had to take a small dinghy, and each time he was amazed he made it across safely.

Pulling his steed from the boat, Brehon quickly remounted. The ride to the center of the island was short, but rough. The land disliked visitors and was never made for a monastery, but the elves tried anyway. Riding as quickly as he could, Brehon pushed his way through the jagged rocks and the steep inclines to arrive at the gates of the abandoned monastery. The elves were masterful architects and craftsmen, but were foolish to build it here.

Brehon dismounted his steed and released the reigns. He knew the horse had nowhere to go and would wander about the island free from harm. Wrapped tightly in his black cloak, Brehon made his way quietly, but not silently, through the large rot iron gates that offered little protection from any invading armies, but then again it had been ages since anyone or anything had been to this desolate isle. Pulling the hood of his cloak over his head, which covered his face in shadows, he walked lightly through the large entrance that dominated the facade of the monastery. As he passed through the doors, he could hear voices of others growing louder as he moved deeper into the monastery. He had not expected so many to return to Lord Felldion with such haste, but it mattered not. He had dealt very little with the others, and planned to keep it that way.

The long hallway toward the voices was a floor of marble dusty with age. The walls of solid granite were still gray, but lacked the luster and detail it once had when it was new, and the corners of each pillar that meet the high ceiling were crowded with spiders and their webs. He went over to a wall and brushed away some of the thick dust that coated a small seal imbedded in the granite. Looking at it curious, he had never noticed it before. It was the crest of the clan of elves who had built this place and he wondered if Lord Felldion was a part of that clan. It did not matter much now. Brehon looked around and decided that the monastery, for the most part, had not changed, save for the bustling of the Lord's servants or the lack of them.

Turning the corner into the alter room where Lord Felldion stood, Brehon ignored the others standing about talking unnecessarily. The room was dimly lit by the flickering flame of one lonely candle perched upon the desk near the center of the room. Brehon ignored the rotting remains of the female body lying in a heap on the ground and her sunken eye holes and rotting flesh eminated a putrid stench. It had never bothered Brehon to see the once living dead and decaying. Even before his Embrace, he had been fancinated by death. He had thought it always natural for death to be a part of life, and paid no attention to decaying corpses.

Slowly he made his way in front of Lord Felldion, and bowed his head. Brehon Rouraidh at your services, My Lord, he said with no emotion. Quietly he took a step back from Felldion turned and vanished into the shadows. Felldion knew that the assassin was always near to protect him, and Brehon never cared to be visible among crowds. Although Brehon was well versed in the tricks of his clan, he had always preferred to be heard, but never seen. As an assassin, he preferred to act on surprise and ambush, rather than superior speed and strength, though he owned both traits.

Silently in the shadows of the alter room, Brehon began to survey those who had already arrived. The first he had noticed was the daemon, Maledict. His eyes were deeply sunken in and he looked as if the daemon has aged. ShadowWander, he had recognized by the two female gifts, and by the looks of them, both were innocent. Brehon's lips curled into a smile as he noticed a third female. She seemed attached to Maledict, which was strange in itself, but Brehon paid no attention to that. She was prettier than the other two, and by the look of her, she was also a virgin. Interesting, a virgin in Maledict's presence? Brehon chuckled under his breath. The daemon must be turning over a new leaf.

Again his gazed scanned over the crowd, and he saw The Shadow Lord. Brehon raised an eyebrow. He had very little knowledge of this daemon, but he knew that he had been around for ages. I must discuss this one with Lord Felldion in private, the vampire assassin grinned. Brehon always did love the challenging assignments, but knowing his guildmates was always on the top of his priority list. You can never trust those you do not know.

[center]Brehon Rouraidh
"And, round about his home, the glory / That blushed and bloomed
Is but a dim-remembered story / Of the old time entombed."

Edgar Allan Poe, The Fall of the House of Usher[/center]


Fri Oct 25, 2002 9:42 pm
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The vampire lord sat locked in a mental struggle, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, his teeth clenched, and his fingernails digging into the wooden lid of the coffin beneath him. His skin crawled and writhed, responding to the seductive call of the demon that shared his body, the unholy transformation balked only by sheer force of will. Leave me alone, Felldion snarled, shaking his head from side to side viciously as if grappling with an unseen enemy, get out! Pale elven skin ripped and tore along his forearms as barbed razors emerged from the soft flesh, gouts of blood splattering to the floor below in response. GET OUT OF MY HEAD, he roared, magickal flames engulfing his frame in response to his anger, the searing touch of the hell-spawned energies driving the demon back into the depth of his being.

Panting, Felldion slid off the coffin and paced the small crypt, the wounds on his forearms rapidly healing with each passing moment. The demon had lain dormant through his months of unconsciousness, for it too had felt the angered caress of the demoness. It was growing stronger though, as this latest attempt to escape had displayed, and it would not be long before the beast took control of his body and vented its anger on the world. That thought was not a pleasant one, for as the creature of hell rampaged unchecked, Felldion would be rendered a helpless passenger inside his mind, unable to influence its actions.

A mental caress alerted him of the arrival of the first demon lord; centuries of living in the depths of the Cynosuran Monastery had attuned him to the essence of the building. A few short strides carried him through the small door that joined the crypt and the altar room, a short burst of magickal energy slamming the wooden portal closed with a bang. Moments later he sensed a second presence, less powerful than the first, but no less impure. They come, he hissed, dark delight lacing his voice.

Felldion’s eyes narrowed as Maledict entered the chamber, a sneer of animosity flashing across his features, only to be replaced by a fanged grin. It’s been a long time shape stealer, he grated, old hostilities flaring up in his mind like molten fireballs, I had thought we were rid of each other, but it seems we share a common cause once again. The vampire lord padded forward to stand mere feet from his old officer, red-flecked eyes dancing from the demon to the young woman who had followed behind him, now standing in the doorway to the altar room. I see you’ve brought a friend, he said, his voice like the twist of a dagger, or perhaps she is to be a sacrifice to Malcron? An icy smile cut across his lips as he again stared at Maledict, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.

The sudden appearance of a vortex to his left distracted Felldion from his old enemy, a wreath of magick flaring around him defensively. The energies of Pandemonium answered his call eager, as if hungry for use after months of lying dormant. The vampire allowed his shields to drop as Shadowwander stepped through the gateway, two slave girls in tow. Although he loathed turning his back on Maledict, he did so as he sketched a bow to the shadow demon. The edge left his voice as he addressed the latest arrival, welcome back, dark one, may the hand of chaos guide your actions. Eying the two girls, Felldion cringed inwardly, I have no use for mortals, though other might. Chain them to the dais, and let those who possess an appetite for that sort of thing feast. The undead elf shot a dark gaze at the torturer, knowing well what he would do to the maidens given a chance.

A wave of power swept through the altar room causing the magickal lights to dim as the very shadows coalesced, a sight the vampire had not seen in ages, and thought never to see again. From the stygian darkness The Shadow Lord grew, his spirit a thing of darkness: midnight evil. Bowing low to his master, Felldion touched his forehead to the flowing cloak of he who had first shown him the beauty of undiluted chaos, his reverence to the demon plain for all to see. Long have I hoped for your return to Tonan, my Lord, for without you Malcron cannot be summoned, and without Malcron this world is destined to remain a faithless pit of filth. I have taken the liberty of summoning your legionnaires, and once they have gathered we can proceed to the Onyx Throne Room. We are few in number, it is true, but our most of our enemies still cling to these fool gods and have forgotten the myths and legends of old. If we can hasten his return, we can control Tonan with ease and banish the false ones before they have a chance to gain any power. The vampire lord straightened, his eyes again flashing daggers at Maledict, a silent challenge, before he paced back to the shattered alter of an ancient elven god, his own dried blood caking the desecrated monument.

As the moments passed more and more demons arrived, mostly minor minions of the Legions of Hell, but each one important: total conquest required armies unlike those that Tonan had seen since the old gods walked the world. Felldion’s eyes narrowed as a dark figure picked his way through the assorted hell spawn, red flecks dancing across his irises. Brehon, his assassin, had arrived. Nodding his head in return at the kindred, he spoke softly preferring discretion, welcome back, Brehon, I have sorely missed your services. Were you able to hunt down the demoness and dispatch her? His fangs flashed in the light of the summoned orb, revenge painted plainly across his face. He had left the assassin standing orders to destroy his old mate before she had hunted him down and nearly killed him.

Soon the Legion would move, and Tonan would quake at their feet.

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We're all demons inside....


Sat Oct 26, 2002 6:52 pm
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*A plane away*

The sky trembled as the beast raged alone on the plane of bones. Raw black energy coursed though clawed hands raised overhead, the sky above brightened and dimmed as the powers of creation and destruction fought for control over reality. Light versus darkness, good versus evil. On this world, good won.

Breathing hard the demon dropped it's hands and let the wave of power subside, yet it's rage did not.

*Back on this world*

The deep rumbling voice of the lord of hell's shadow came softly from within the deep cowl.

"Felldion my friend, no longer are you or any of those gathered bound to my service. The gods of old are gone, gone as well is the last shard of the tri-gate, the sole lock on the prison of my flesh, without which this world will never know the true depths of dispair. Yet there are tales the old gods may yet live, though even I know not the full truth.

Yet on the day the old gods fell it was Barnabus who held the last piece. He was slow witted, I knew it was only a matter of time before I wrested it from him. His servants TBL, FLAME were in tatters, the giants armies of the red god now quaked with fear at the very mention of The Legions of Hell. It was only a small matter of time before the key was mine, yet time for once was not on my side. The gods were either killed or banished. What happened to them is the mystery I must solve before the earth will once again whither beneath my taloned feet.

It is in the fortress of the red god where we may find that which I seek or that which may help me in this quest. Yet few if any even know of its location, the old gods are no more, even now the world has been reforged and changed, that path was lost to me."

From within the deep, seemingly bottemless robes he pulled out two slender elegantly carved pieces of metal. Their beauty obviously elvish in origin. Each one identical to the other, slots in the ends indicated they fit together, yet they were incomplete without the third.

Maledict could feel the evil contained within, to his sight the rods rippled and contorted in the other dimensions.


Tue Oct 29, 2002 10:06 am
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In the bowels of some forgotten land, the dwarf was still there. Not only was he still a fabulous wizard, but a master of the cabal as well now! His pet Porkchop, a simulacrum lovingly crafted from the finest jade, did all the transactions and kept up the Spikey Lab of Doom (tm), who fetched the food and supplies, and also ate any mail delivery peon (whilst stealing the mail) [/silver]

- OOohh a message, dear Porkchop? <cackle> *reads*

*mumble* Summoning a whatchamakalit, taking over the world, eating quasits and drinking ale *mumble*


Porkchop! We must be off to the Monstary! Make haste! -


The simulacrum (who looks like a stay puft marshmallow man, only about 3 feet tall) waddled around putting the delicate glassware in the cupboards, eating the experimental animals still alive, retreived the pointy hat , and locked up the castle with wards and spells.

And they were off.


Tue Oct 29, 2002 10:42 am
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ShadowWander nodded to Felldion hearing his words. He snatched the female slaves to follow him. Their small forms shuddered in fear, as begs of mercy fell with each tear against their soft delicate skin. ShadowWander took them to the wall where chains swung slightly with cool damp air. They rattling chains made sounds of chiming bells to ShadowWander. A sound made his soul burn bright and the beast of hunger pound with in his chest. He dropped the leashes of the two girls and turned to face them.

Each girl fell to the needs the audible whimpering and prays to the gods and gods they didn’t care right now. Just praying that any would take them from this hellish place. Quickly ShadowWander reached and grasped the redhead with his tight grip. He pulled her up and tossed her to the wall. She let out a gasp grabbing his arm, with her small hands. Crying out in pain from her silken hair being yanked. A deep moan passed her supple lips as she felt the cold wall press to her bare flesh. Quickly she found herself bound in old shackles. With in seconds her moans were joined by the other girl’s moans of misery.

ShadowWander stepped back his eyes darken with such an erotic sight. His lips tugged to a grin. A light chuckles passed his lips, as he turned to his Brethren. Feeling his fire of ages past course through his veins. ShadowWander moaned slightly as he felt the cold embraces of his Mistress of Shadows. She felt his hunger rise once again. ShadowWander’s form moved as if he was in the embraces of a beautiful but unseen form.






[center]
ShadowWander

~Shadow Demon of Darden~
<<<<<<<< Sanctum Officium<<<<==I==0
Scream, Scream louder Heathen! You're agony is a symphony to my ears[/center]


Tue Oct 29, 2002 10:57 am
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She had stayed back in the shadows for as long as she could, not speaking and barely breathing, as she watched the new arrivals. She noticed that the only other two humans in the group were two slave women. She sneered at the way they cowered. Weaklings. They would deserve whatever they got. Those who would not fight to live, did not deserve life.

If she were in their position she would not have suffered herself to be drug in so easily. She smirked and straightened her shoulders again. No- she would have left so many marks on the one dragging her that even if she died, she would leave a permanent reminder of her once having been there.

Turning her gaze away from the scene she tried to decide the best route to get to Maledict. These beings were powerful. Power so great that she would stand no chance if they decided her death was required. She looked toward the Torturer, her eyes darkening with understanding. These were beings such as himself. She had always held respect for her guardian, but her respect for his power increased tenfold, once she saw him surrounded by his own kind. Her respect for her perilous situation grew as well.

Because of this, she was unhappily made aware that her presence had been noticed by one that seemed to have a rivalry with her mentor. Narrowing her eyes, she made her way forward and stopped only a few yards from Maledict's side. She directed a challenging, proud look toward the man who spoke of her.


Sacrifice? No. I am not a lamb to be led to slaughter...

She glanced at the two slave girls as if to imply they were more lamblike. Unfortunately, in doing so she caught sight of the one who had brought the slave girls in. The rest of her sentence was lost as she stared at him in bemused confusion, her mouth dropping open.

Why the hells was he moaning, and why was he moving like that? It was almost as bad as that time she caught the farmer and his milkmaid in the barn...right before she slit their throats. At least then, it was obvious what their problem was. She wrinkled her nose and grimaced faintly in disgust.

There were some things she hoped she'd never understand.

_________________
It's not paranoia if they really are out to get you.
Desire is hunger is the fire I breathe...
...the night belongs to us.


Tue Oct 29, 2002 12:07 pm
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A smirk danced its way across his lips in response to Felldion's greeting.
shapestealer.
It had been a long time since anyone had dared to address him by that name, but the sting of the insult was no less venomous as it echoed through his mind. Tiny sparks of anger exploded behind pure stygian eyes and he scowled at Demetria when the vampire mentioned her.
He would speak to her later.
Is this really the time and place for redundant arguments to be settled, vampire?
He asked, each word hanging heavily in the thick atmosphere as though weighed down with poisonous barbs.
I was under the impression that you had summoned me for a much higher purpose.
The Torturer shrugged his shoulders and a mischievous gleam flashed across his eyes before he turned his attention to the entrance of Shadowwander.
Ancient and darkest magicks crackled through the air like flails of lightning and there was a time when he would have been envious of such excessive displays of power. Now though, now he had the blood of a sidhe thundering through his veins and even though he had yet to summon the power held there-in, just knowing it was present was enough to stop jealousy from eating away at his gut.

He inclined his head slightly in greeting to ShadowWander and allowed his gaze to roam lasciviously across the slavegirls. Forked tongue flickered hungrily across cruel, thin lips as images flashed through his mind. He could see their bodies bloodied and broken, stretched out across his rack, writhing and whimpering in torment, their faces contorted with the purest of agonies as he administered his ..profession.
Such wonderful playthings you bless us with, ShadowWander.
He said in his usual hushed tone, the voice cracked only slightly by excitement. The demon then cast a cursory glance over to Demetria in an effort to gauge her reaction. She seemed to get so volatile lately whenever he gave his attention to other women. Perhaps she had thought that it had gone unnoticed but Maledict was nothing if not observant. He offered her a sly wink and chuckled quietly to himself.

A dark shadow passed across his face when his peripheral vision caught sight of Brehon skulking in the shadows. He knew that if Felldion ever wanted him dead, then Brehon would be the one that he sent to do the job. As the Torturer attempted to focus on the assassin, Brehon used his alliance with the shadows to disappear from sight as though he had never been there.
It puzzled Maledict that shadows chose to ally themselves with creatures such as vampires. They were neither demon nor mortal. Admittedly, some held great power but they would always be cursed with knowing deep down that were nothing more than an aberration.
Never pure.

He carefully shielded his thoughts from any who might have ears to listen and grinned in an almost courteous manner when the one that they had been waiting for finally arrived.
The Torturer bowed his head to the Shadow Lord though his gaze never once left the shadowy confines of the demon's cowl, he considered it foolish to let your guard down, even amongst friends.

The demon nodded his head slowly to the words of the Shadow Lord. He himself had heard whispered rumours of the old Gods but had quickly dismissed them as nothing more than fairy tales and wishful thinking. Though even he had to admit that the isle of Maxim was becoming increasingly more chaotic but assumed it was mere coincidence and not the influence of Leto.
He had given so much of himself to Darden and couldn't help wondering just where his loyalties would lie if the God of Chaos returned to his scattered flock.

As soon as Demetria moved closer to him he leaned across and whispered in her ear.
Perhaps I should manacle you to a wall the next time I leave the city alone.
Hidden threats lurked surreptitiously within his words.

Then he felt a great power flood into the room and knew that the shards had been unveiled. His eyes closed tightly and every muscle in his body tightened with all the intensity of a taut spring. A soft, breathless murmur of pleasure rattled through his throat and danced across trembling lips as the purest evil wrapped its fingers around every part of his being and squeezed his very soul.

So it begins.
Were the only words that he managed to utter.

In the recesses of his mind though, a nagging thought reared up.
Did anyone summon the dwarf?

_________________
The Torturer


Wed Oct 30, 2002 5:01 am
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Coldness of shadows shimmered slightly from the Shadowed Mistress’s caress upon ShadowWander’s demonic flesh. She leaned in to him her soft tempestuous lips pressed to his neck. She so did enjoy the reaction she garnered from ShadowWander. She turned her gaze to the others into the Monastery. The almond colored flesh of a beautiful woman with long wavy silver hair and dark eyes of burning shadows from the shimmering shadows.

Her gazes slowly moved to each of the figures with in the room. She gazed upon Felldion, the to Maledict and Demetria, then to Krogoth and lastly Shadow Lord. Mistress of Shadows nodded to each one with a seductive smile of her slightly parted upturned lips. She could feel the powers of darkness and evil that dwell deep with in this place.

Mistress turned back to ShadowWander, she so did enjoy his hungered gaze. She leaned to ShadowWander whispering to his ear.
My wandering shadow I shall leave this place. If you need of me I shall be listening. With a last press of her lips to his flesh. Mistress of Shadows shimmered to darkness once more. Her scantily clad body fades to wisps of shadows disappearing.

_________________
[center]Mistress of Shadows
Feel the warm press of Shadowed lips[/center]


Wed Oct 30, 2002 3:08 pm
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Post 
The darkness was his home and he relished every chance he had to be within its grasp. It had been a long time since his Lord had asked anything of him, and those standing orders were difficult, if not impossible. The demoness was much more cunning and clever than Brehon had anticipated. He was sent forth to hunt her down and rid the world of her wickedness, but somehow he found this to be a fruitless task. He had searched the world high and low, through every mountain and valley, every river and stream, every ocean and sea, but she was nowhere to be found.

She was plague on human-kind, as well as demon-kind, and she followed no one's rules, but her own and chaos reigned in her blood, but almost to the point of her own destruction and the rest of the Legionnaires. This was not to be tolerated, not by Brehon and certainly not by Felldion. Brehon's mission was clear, but the means were clouded. The young vampire could see the passionate rage within his Lord's eyes praying that Brehon would bring him news, or better yet, proof of her demise, but Brehon possessed no such thing.

Brehon whispered softly on the slight wind that swept its way through the chambers, I am sorry, Felldion, but the demoness has eluded me and my hunters. Moving silently about the room's stonewalls, Brehon never liked to stay in one spot too long. He always feared that even in his cloaked darkness the enemy was always seeking him. A paranoid vampire, he was, but never would he let his fear prevail through his words or actions. We will continue our search for her endlessly until she is found. Brehon's voice, already soft, trailed off and became nothing more than a wisp of air.

Again he slipped back into the darkness of the shadows, and made his way to the side of his Lord Felldion. Looking displeased, his Lord ordered the ‘party favors’ moved away into a corner of the dimly lit dungeon. They were soon locked and chained to the walls and their pale naked forms contrasting the dark gray stone made a mural of live human flesh in the darkness of death. Brehon looked up over at Demetria wondering if she was to be thrown in with the rest of the mural, but her defying words intrigued the vampire.

Quietly crouched upon the dais behind Maledict, Brehon sat quietly knowing his Lord's displeasure with the demon. It was strange to see a human girl of such innocence standing beside the Torturer. Leaping down silently from the dais, Brehon made his way slowly up behind Demetria. Humans are such feeble creatures, he thought silently, and so dependent on others for sustenance. Reaching out with a crooked finger, Brehon lightly caressed girl’s neck like a cold breeze then silently disappearing from her knowledge. Grinning he could see her human instincts react to the light grazing of a sharpened fingernail; the thin, blonde hairs on her neck began to rise and he could see her visibly shudders from the cold chill that ran down her spine. Hmm, I should like to taste her sweet vital, but I do not know if Maledict would approve. Maybe he would approve of her Embrace? This thought amused Brehon immensely, and he would remember this for a future confrontation.

As he faded into the inky blackness that surrounded the room, The Shadow Lord stood before them and proposed the mission to bring back Malcron. Brehon showed no emotion, but turned to look at Felldion. Malcron? The Kindred murmured to himself. This ought to be interesting. The demon of all demons returning to the legions of chaos. He had little love for or fear of demons, but there was something different about Malcron that made him cringe. There was no weaknesses that plagued Malcron, or at least none that the vampire could recognize. In all his ages as an assassin Malcron was the most difficult of all ancients to understand; he had no weaknesses.

[center]Brehon Rouraidh
"And, round about his home, the glory / That blushed and bloomed
Is but a dim-remembered story / Of the old time entombed."

Edgar Allan Poe, The Fall of the House of Usher[/center]


Mon Nov 04, 2002 9:27 pm
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Post Coming home
The depths of the stygian darkness split assunder, one huge cloven hoof slammed down from one plane, the plane of hell screaming pestulance and sulfer, of Hell, to the plane of Maxim. Wings flared, shedding grey ash, about her form slid the cold of rotted ichor, clumps of flesh and hair left trails along the scales. Taloned fingers slid upwards, summoning forth the imps and fiends, the shadows most malevolent. Forked tongue flickered, danced across the air. MM..so he hunts my hide? How, very..droll. Those black things which were of her evil corruption and will capered forth, gibbering madness. Tumbling about her hooves as she was borne from Hell anew. Horns scraped the air, caused it to shudder. Allowing the gaping wound that was her birth canal to close. Three breasts heaved as she drank in the intoxicating scent of all that lay about and before her. Shadow Lord, Maledict, Shadow Wanderer, Felldion.

Powerful legs carried her forward, psuedopods of darkness lingers and slipped away as she came fully into the world. One great hand rested upon the hilt of her sword. A sword which had slain countless, a sword which was wrapped about the hilt with heathen flesh. Moving forward, blood welling up from the deep impressions left by those hellish hooves, towards the Monastary. Never one to mince about the subject of war and murder. If he wished a fight, he would get one. Hips swayed as she moved, a hissing delight as the shadows wrapped about her, carressing her most pleasured centers, and shuddered away. The moonlight dancing over her form. Once there had been passion upon the tomb in the monastery. Now it was cold and empty as her heart. A light had dulled in her eyes, yet they had grown sharper as well. Her hand to loose her blade so much quicker. She had tossed all aside with the betrayal of one she had once dared to love. But love was a lie, it had always been so. Love was a stygian whore with her slash wriggling with maggots and her mouth stuffed with offal. She was the greatest monster of them all, and she had cut Eisheth, had shown her the truth of what love netted one.

It was not for her to love, not for him to be loved by her. Perhaps they were better off as enemies. Though a small part of her hungered yet for him, and this she hated most of all. That black maggot wriggled yet in a heart which found no joy in anything but anger and resentment. Taloned fingers slid over the countanance of an angel statuary in the graveyard, a smirk cut her lips, as cleanly as a razorblade slices the flesh of a sucicide victims wrist. The face was torn away, crushed to dust betwix her fingers and allowed to be carried off by the howling wind before a palm battered the door to the Monastary open, shattered it so it hung in pieces from the hinges. Honey, I am home. And you hardly seemed pleased at all, you ungodly son of a bitch.

75060952


Wed Nov 06, 2002 11:47 am
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Maledict's displeasure hadn't fully registered when he began talking to the others in the room. She'd thought she'd gotten away without any repercussions when he'd made his whisper to her. More than just the threat of manacle's was in his tone. She glanced away from him though and soon he was focussing on something else.

She felt it best to remain quiet for a bit longer and watch. She didn't know any of those here except for her guardian. While she stood there, she felt the unease of being watched. A cold chill ran down her spine and she shivered, turning quickly to see what was there, a scowl in her eyes- but there was nothing there. Frowning, she swallowed and looked around. She could have swore someone had touched her, but seeing no one, she turned and looked toward Maledict once more, moving to the torturer's side.

Glancing up into his face, she smiled slyly and whispered her own reply.


If you are hoping to stop my behavior, you would do better to choose something I couldn't easily get out of...if I wanted to get out of it, that is.

Grinning impishly then, she moved closer to him, yet behind him. It wasn't that she was scared, but being cautious was only smart and he was bigger than her. If something came at her, it would have to go through him to reach her. That would give her time to attack first.

At that moment she heard an unmistakably female voice. Turning her face toward the noise she bit her lip, then looked up at Maledict again. The woman didn't sound happy. Not in the least.

_________________
It's not paranoia if they really are out to get you.
Desire is hunger is the fire I breathe...
...the night belongs to us.


Wed Nov 06, 2002 5:04 pm
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Post Cast iron
Striding forward, not a flicker of glance to any one else gathered there. Those who had no foul word for her, those who hated because they were blind sheep blatting behind their Master sedately. They were not the reason for her awakening. One had summoned her with lies and false pretenses. But then, that was the way of the one. Wings folded blackly against skin which flushed flawless white. Forked tongue slid over sinful lips, the flash of white teeth glimped before the tongue vanished again. One brow lifted, white and arched. The other taloned hand dripped vitae wetly around the still cold muscle grasped between those killing claws. The quarter sized drops of blood mewled and wriggled into pores and cracks, seeking hell again. What I have done to you physically is infintesimal compared to what you have done to my heart. But I have learned well from you, cold heartless blood sucker. I have discovered that love makes me weak. It distracts me from my solitary ways. Lifting the dripping hand, palm down, fingers caging the bloody meat. The index finger pointed, pointed at Felldion, her eyes narrowed, burning golden. Twin suns, full of nothing but cold disgust.

I no longer want this heart. You took it when you left. Play the martyr if it makes you feel better. I was a hard lover. I admitt this, but I was not the one who spoke the words that revoked everything you ever said to me and proved you to be a liar. I know what we suffered through, and we were once great. Now..now I have learned never to trust, never to love. Never to believe words whispered to me one moment, then revoked in the next. I am sorry it has come to this, but it is what you demanded. Take back the heart..the lying thing, you once offered to me and be gone from my life. The fingers opened, dropping the heart to the floor, it squelched and bounced twice, leaving bright coma's on the floor as if seeking to find a way to undo what was happening. Lips scythed upwards, a brilliant smile of murder and hatred. No light reached her eyes. Mind you keep your little siccophants from my path, Felldion. Else I am forced to come back and shove their heads down your throat..after I have reamed out their damp empty sockets.

Turning then, a nod of head to Maledict, eyes skated over his form, over the female behind him before hooves melted away to feet, flawless and delicate. Striding towards the door. It is good to see you back in your body, a pity though..I missed..playing..with it. I will see you around, Lord Maledict.


Fri Nov 08, 2002 12:23 pm
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