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 Bloodshed (Open) 
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Joined: Sat May 24, 2003 4:27 am
Posts: 5
Post Bloodshed (Open)
OOC: Someone let me know if I get a little over-the-top, eh?
Liquid splashed beneath slick-soaked armored boots, reflecting a deep ruby in the thin torchlight. The trailing edge of a crimson cloak swept in the figure's wake, picking up a deeper tinge as it drifted over the puddles. In the distance, screams echoed as the enemy scattered in route and the invaders ferreted out their victims into the street.

It was a slaughter. It always had been, as far as he was concerned.

It was harder now, to remember where one battle started and the next began. Dark eyes sank into hollow sockets beneath the featureless mask that adorned his face. Sleep had long ago abandoned him wholly...whatever unclean motive drove him forward each day and night held no dealings with mortal laziness.

He rounded the corner, and found a band of his men dragging a family into the thoroughfare. They glanced up at their master's approach, uncertain how to proceed. He reminded them, voice as cold as ice...hatred echoing back into a blood-soaked history with the complete calm lucidity of madness. "Kill them all. This town is to be cleansed with fire, and we havn't enough bodies for all the pyres yet. You know how to proceed."

And so they did, their master sweeping by as the first screams of true pain lanced out into the night. It was a grim harvest, but it was a familiar one by now.

By dawn, all things were prepared. Even better, there had been a surplus...survivors, whose death had not been required for the construction of the platforms which now lined the streets. They sat, beaten and bloodied, next to whatever was left of their dismantled kin. Cleaned skulls lay stacked carefully atop one another, here and there affixed in place with the careful application of other bones. Bits of femur protruded, artfully decorated with shattered fragments of ribs. Across all, lay a veneer of drying blood and sulphur.

Inside these lay the survivors and the unused remains of the dead. The tender mercy for the breathing was to be cleansed with the city itself. A flash of light started the conflagration, and it spread between the terrible platforms in a horrific rush akin to the inhalation of demons. There was a moment of dull silence and shock, as the flames took hold. Then came the inevitable screams as flesh boiled away from bone.

The army of the Servant was already departing, however. They had much to do. There were other places, nests of life and living to purge of their festering.

All in time.
I'm not the one whose so far away,
When I feel the snake-bite enter my veins...
Never did I want to be here again,
And I don't remember why I came...
~Godsmack, Voodoo

Sat May 24, 2003 1:53 am
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