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Post by Icor on Aug 29, 2004 17:39:57 GMT -4
[WARNING: This RP contains a bit of... well, blood and gore. If that stuff diturbs you, then.. well, do not read on. The idea of the character Icor is to -be- disturbing, wretched, and loathable, therefore, disturbing images must be placed within the RP to develop such emotions. Feel free to join in. ;D]
“I remember when we danced that one night, Icor darling. – Icor recites softly, a quaint and cold smile on his lips. In his hands he holds a dark letter, creased in two places and elegantly scribed with a detailed and fine hand. The script is black, and the parchment is gray. The expression in his eyes remains hidden by the mask as he continues, a soft spark of glee in his voice: “Oh.. Icor my love. We danced so beautifully on those stairs. The moon was so bright, as were the stars. If only then, I could have looked into your eyes… Your dead eyes. Maybe then, I would accept you. But Icor... I… , His voice trembles a little, though his smile remains, “I could not see through them. They frightened me so. Oh so much. Icor, I do love you. I love you o’ so much, but I cannot sit by your side. There is something cold that I cannot… chisel away. I want to see deeper into your heart, but you force me back… back to the flesh.” – His deep voice stops a moment, and he tilts his head back, wafting a deep breath through his nose. He exhales out his lips, an extremely relaxed and loud sigh flowing from them. He then turns back to the letter, and begins to read – “I am sorry Icor. I want you to know that where ever I shall come to be, that you will be in my heart. Forever in my heart. I… ” – His voice yet again pauses, and he strokes a finger over a tearstain near the bottom of the letter; the motion of his eyes remains undetected. He then continues, whispering: “I wish that… you also find a way to forgive me. But you have to understand my pain. I -am- sorry, Icor”. He folds the letter slowly, lowering his head a small bit, still smiling faintly. He then turns toward the body of a woman, a lifeless woman.
He stands from his chair and walks to her side, staring down at the large, open cavity in her chest. It is a bloody, deep hole, about the size of a dinner plate. Inside is only carved away flesh. He kneels by her side, her face blue. The pool around her figure is of black, untouched blood - as his foot came to rest in it, the film over the top of the sticky fluid bent a little. His smile widens all the more as he leans in a little, stroking a finger along her cheek. “Goodbye, Icor. Sincerely, your love, Mihar O’Lethra, Bard of the Forest.” he recites, finishing the closed letter in his hand. He tosses the parchment against her chest and licks his lower lip slowly before speaking. “Oh Mihar. So young to have been bled. You gave me too much love. Your heart will always be with me… in me.” – his voice is calm, though at the end, the pun is without flare, but seriousness; he continues, “Mihar… I love you. But you have been undone; you were too… little fun anymore. The tears at night, I saw them. I saw your pain. I saw the loneliness. Once you learned that it was me… I knew, I had to have you. I had to have your center, because you would escape me. Escape.. my love. Oh, Mihar”. His speech finally comes to an end as he straightens his posture and stands. He smiles broadly down at the broken, but beautiful body, and he turns, quickly pacing out the doorway of the pleasant, but hauntingly bleak cabin home. The night air sweeps through his hair, the forest surrounding him.
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Post by Nymiane on Aug 30, 2004 0:49:19 GMT -4
In the center of the darkness, a pool lay, giving off faint light as images flashed within it. Water as dark as obsidian, ebon mists arising from it, encompassing the room with it. A slender finger often disturbed the water, sending ripples throughout the visions within. Soon vocals were sent forth, melody soft and alluring. “O’ Icor, Darling, You shouldn’t have…” The finger swept down to send ripples in the water once more, voice was sent down to the man’s ears, lone finger was retracted as a chortle came from the being, the room set a glow as visage lit up; A crescent moon tattoo sending off a blue pulsating glow. “Well done..”<br>The figure moved, fingers trailing along the rim of the pool, the face now coming into view, grin tugging upon the corner of her lips, Nymiane, Goddess of Chaos.
The grin only grew as she moved away from the pool, her slender hand moving in a fluid motion, strings of vibrant hues appearing before her, scars or tattoos now appearing upon her face, a star and what seemed to be a tear, glowing in the same huge as the crescent moon. A string floated towards her, Nymiane wrapped it around her right pointer finger, her left hand tugging and snapping it in half, the now two strings floating back into place, changing hue. New destruction, new chaos was on the loose. A smile came to her face, that one of satisfaction. What was she to do about this Icor now? Fingers curled into her palm, long nails skimming along her skin as she pondered. The realm needed more chaos, all seemed to bore her, except for this Icor, she could have some pleasurable fun with him. A chuckle came from her as she palmed a skull, left hand slipping under it’s chin, teeth seeming to smile, a frown came from Nymiane as she slammed the skull upon a stone table, shards of the bone scattering around the room. “Wreak havoc upon the realm, Dear Icor. Spare not a soul..”<br> Nymiane walked towards the pool once more, kneeling down and draping her body over the waters, her breath flowing over her lips and onto the water. Waves began to form, the ebon liquid taking form of minions, lips twisted in a smile as she sent them down to the realm, breath icing over the waters, now a plan for this Icor, whom else was he to destroy? A frown came to her face as she delved into thought. Who, or what pitiful creature was to be tortured, killed, or ruined next?
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Post by Icor on Aug 30, 2004 3:28:44 GMT -4
He stopped in the woodland, deep in a night-struck trail. The woman’s voice was not familiar to him: it did not wail inside his mind, just this once. He says nothing, only smiles faintly. He continues for a long while, the words raining down upon him as the lights of a nearby town come into view. “Village…” – he murmured to himself, a neutral frown on his face, the words long passed.
Not long, he had a room, his face drenched in the shadow of a hood. At a small desk, wielding no more that a sack, he sat, staring through his mask upon the wood. “…She didn’t cry.” he repeats over and over to himself before taking up a small quill. In his palm, a small blue flame appears. From it, a large piece of –very- fine parchment materializes. He lay it down upon the wood gently and begins to write eloquently. These are his words, spoken aloud as he scribed:
“My dearest,
This night, I took your heart physically, as I did five months ago mentally. This has been the most artistic conquest as of late. You are dead, though still to this day do I wonder what was more painful: being plagued in the mind by malice and frigidness, or my fingers digging into your chest and shredding out your heart. Either way, I drank from your suffering. Every single tear you shed, I felt my climax in utter ecstasy! Your face was so red, your gagging so true! For a moment, I almost believed that your pain was so real. You had blood on your lips. I cleaned them with a kiss, my dear; A last kiss that you couldn’t feel. I did so well with that one, Mihar, it was warm, and refreshing to the glands. You created such a wonderful portrait inside me. If only you had not bled so much! That is the only thing I curse you for! After such a long play, that muscle pumping your pointless red slime was unsatisfying! DRY! Flavorful but unfulfilling! I am forced to find another now, you wretch! You pointless, dead wretch! Another. Another. Another. Another. Another.”<br> By the time he finished the letter, his face was in a snarl. Upon the letter, he stamps a small blotch of wax to close it. He left that room, with no intention of coming back. Upon reaching the delivery, he placed the address of Mihar’s cabin, the Bard of the Forest. His orders went to the rider smoothly: “Place this scroll on her doorstep. Perhaps, sometime, she will find it, and read it.”. Turning slowly from that village, he continued his stride through the forest.
”Voice… you don’t scream. But you don’t see. Blinded… I am not mindless. Your chaos is drab. I do not grope for slaughter. I do not grope for blood. I grope for art. The spilling, the shattering! Tell me of your chaos!”<br>
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Post by Nymiane on Sept 2, 2004 16:08:39 GMT -4
“Oh Icor, to demand a Goddess such as I to do anything, oh, well that will get you--Absolutely NO WHERE!”<br> Nym’s voice was sent forth, soothing and calm, then as her words poured on down into the realm, her tone became deafening, earth shattering and yet a twisted smile caressed her face, fingers uncurling, one caressed her dark lips, which pursed. A thought shot through her mind, a chuckle came from her, her finger slid down her lips, leaving a damp trail, the hand stopped at her throat, where she gently groped it. Lifeless eyes stared down into the pool, catching a glimpse of a figure, her eyes widened and lips parted as a shriek came from her.
“How delightful! A playmate for Icor.”<br> Lips were drawn into a thin line and brows knitted together as her finger dabbed into the black liquid, the figure walking into the palm of her hand, chuckles were sent forth and a thumb gently caressed the figure. Nymiane stood to her feet, eyes focused upon the being before her, whispering words, ideas, thoughts, plans. Irikal, her mind called out in an alluring tone, You have a job, come to me and fight. She shifted her hand, wrist bending back, fingers moving in a wave as she let the hologram dance in the air, and across the room until it was sucked back into the pool. Nymiane’s lips pursed, then parted as her voice was sent forth, her eyes focused upon her hands, fingers doing a dance in the air.
“Icor, show me how you have perfected your art. Spill blood, paint walls. Shatter skulls and tear some hearts. Do it. Now.”<br> The voice demanded, growing low in tone, a sort of growl emitting from the earth beneath him. Tree’s began to sway, the heavens darkened, lightning flashed and danced upon the sky. Rain fell in well sized drops, quenching the thirsts of the desperate plants in the terrain. Nymiane pulled to strings together, tying a tight knot, a pleasant smile drew her lips up, hand trailing from her throat, down to her bosom, a chuckle passing over her lips, echoing in the ears of her pawns.
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Post by Icor on Sept 2, 2004 18:35:57 GMT -4
He stopped in the middle of the road and twitched slightly, lankily turning to the forest at his left. He inhaled through his lips slowly, as if hard pressed to breathe, and lifted his hands. Both his hands begin to grab at something and scoop inward toward his chest, seeming to pantomime pulling huge gobs of matter and pushing them into his breast. Words began to trickle out of his lips as his lips dilated – "Another, through… there. Warmth… Passion". He started through the forest, still grabbing at the air in front of him and pushing it into his chest. A smile is on his lips, though it is extremely strained.
He trips and staggers through the woodland there, his hidden eyes forward. The booming of Nym’s voice didn’t seem to bother him that much, though it was the cause of his shivering. He lent against a tree after a fairly long march, breathing heavily.
"Mihar, she’s dead." – he stutters, weeping, though his smile remains, "Dead! Oh, so dead…"! He cries fully, gripping the sides of his head while sliding down the side of the tree. He looks to the heavens, clenching his teeth. "Enough! It will be by my design! Mihar wasn’t enough! Mihar wasn’t enough, voice! Show me yourself! You are not one of my wails! You are not!" – His voice is a tad crazed as he screams through the forest toward the sky, standing back up again. His breath was icy, and his teeth chattered – "Urrga… All those children, all those soldiers… Nothing! Nothing! Not a charade with love! It is not enough…"! He began to stagger back through the woodland again, leaning from tree to tree on his shoulders as his fingers now grasp lazily at his destination. "So hungry voice… I’m so hungry", he whispers softly, still trembling, "Show me your chaos, and I will show you my art."
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Post by Nymiane on Sept 3, 2004 0:33:26 GMT -4
Maniacal laughter echoed in the woods, Nymiane’s figure appeared in a blurred flash, her figure moving jaggedly as she slunk towards him, Her long arms outstretched, black cloak fanning out behind her, looking as if she had wings. Her tongue moistened her lips, eyes glowing and tendrils of her hair whipped about in a breeze that just didn’t seem to be there. A cackle came from her as she floated in front of him, her hand outstretched as her index finger ran along his chin, vocals were sent forth in what seemed to be a sympathetic tone.
“Oh Icor, What have you done? Don’t you know? It will never be enough, there will never be an end.”<br> Vocals seemed to echo with “Never enough”, a drawn out cackle came from her as she wrapped herself in her cloak, her feet touching the ground, lifeless eyes set upon the figure, her mind spinning with millions of plots and thoughts. Nymiane took a step further, bode nearly pressing into his, cold breath passing onto Icor’s lips, teeth gently nipping at them.
“You want to see my chaos?!”<br> Her voice sent forth in a shriek, her hand clamped upon the back of his neck, her hand cold and warm at the same time, gentle, but firm. A smug look planted itself upon her face as she outstretched one arm, forcing Icor’s head down. On the inside of Nym’s cloak, flashed images of a village being ransacked and vanquished. Children running and screaming for their mother, their cries not being answered, for they lay lifeless upon the ground, coated in blood, some captured for pleasurable company. Men, thousands of men lay dead, the survivors now captives, the village had succumbed to the evil..
A sarcastic frown pulled Nym’s lips down; they soon were placed upon the ear of Icor, breath blowing into it. She pulled them away slowly; her tongue moved in her mouth as words began to form, vocals were sent out.
“Icor, Darling.. Do you wish to see more?”<br>
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Post by Icor on Sept 3, 2004 2:35:22 GMT -4
He was hunched, greatly, at the time Nym arrived into his sight. At that moment, he was peering at her, his arms lazily hovering in front of himself, his withered fingers picking at the air. His breath wheezed, drooped like a pathetic rodent. He said nothing as she spoke, for the first period.
The large question finally passed his ears: " Do you want to see my chaos ". At this question, his smile cracked out and he nodded a couple times, only for his head to be whipped back into a snare and forced down to the cloak. A few grunts escaped his lips as he stared into the visions, though as he began to comprehend the things seen, his smile only broadened, and his weeping melded into flurry of shocked gasps and apparently awe-filled or excited laughter. Nym's presence still had little affect on him as each new sight fed his eyes through the one-way obsidian material over his eyes. His fingers cringed and twitched, his arms still bent at the elbows. His cloak hung down around his shape as he hunched into the cloak.
Upon the next question, he turned his head a small bit, though still set to boundaries by her cold fingers, and spoke in an unnaturally smooth voice after such an audible cackle of emotions. "Such a crude style. Enjoyable it was regardless, voice. Enjoyable it was" – he whispers softly, the corners of his lips stretched tightly into a coy grin as his body twitches and shivers in Nym’s grasp; this smile, however, is short lived, soon shifting into an angered snarl, "Such.. A waste. Such a filthy... waste voice. Unsophisticated. unorganized, and unobserved". The muscles in his neck flexed a little, his dialect slathering the word ‘voice’ with hissing and smarm.
"Let my neck go, voice, and I’ll make a deal with you."
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Eldroth
Noble
Harbringer of Chaos
At the end of the day, everyone's a victim.
Posts: 77
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Post by Eldroth on Sept 3, 2004 9:32:19 GMT -4
In the shadows the figure waited. It was humanoid, which is more than it had been minutes ago as it circled the canopy of the unremitting forest where his patron had summoned him. Wrapped in the darkness of the night, the figure stood between two trees. His clothes, archaic in fasion, with layered robes and sleeves, were primarily black, which dark purples, deep greens and deep reds. But it was the eyes that one noticed first. Not even the aura that he gave off, that someone of his being could not help but give off, after nearly 10 milennia of being sustained by demonic power. Those eyes...Swirling, piercing tri-coloured irises. Dark crimson on the outer rim, like someone had painted them in fresh blood. Ruby on the middle circumfrance, like someone had bisected the precious gem, and the last, finally, a shocking vermillion, that danced and flamed constantly. It was these that rested on Nym. His hair was black, brushing his broad shoulders in a style out of fasion some 300 years past. His skin, flawless, unmarked, was the sickly pallour of death. White. A suprisingly clean white, yet still not a natural colour. The loose, black trousers he wore tucked into calf high black boots. One elegant, long fingered hand rested unconciously on the hilt of a long, slightly curved, single edged sword with a long handle. The guard of the hilt was made in the representation of two spread wings, like that of an eagle. The pommel was a stone, glowing a soft azure. The pale lips twitched at the corners gently, shadows creasing as he did, flashing white teeth, with sharp canines. Not as long as a vampires, but easily enough to tear out ones throat. Inwardly he was nervous. Nym was...unpredictable at the best of times. He knew that he did not stand a chance, power wise against her, not in this realm. In the WasteLand then yes, maybe in Duokan. It irked him. He was unused to being second man. He had resided as the most powerful creature for well over 3 milennia. But he would not reveal such a thing. It was the ultimate power he retained. The ability to mask his heart and mind from anything...Diety or no. Stepping forth, Irikal made no sound, his feet pressing against the soil, leaving a faint steaming indentation, that disappeared almost immediately. As he moved, the shadows seemed to come with him, trailing behind him like a shadowy cloak. Other trendrils sifted and twisted themselves round his calves, as if they attatched him to the ground but did not hold him. His hair to, seemed to be laced with the shadows that seemed to blend into the dark of the air, trailing and whispering out behind him. He was truely a creature of the night. His voice, however, in juxtapositioning was smooth and rich, deep, but with a hint of an edge, that warned of violence of anyone who closely listened. If you could put an object to the voice to describe it, it would be poisoned honey. He inclined his head, this time with just enough touch of reverance to make it seem sincere. Other times they had met on his ground he hadn't even greeted her. Funny how roles were reversed. But he did know he was too powerful to be eliminated easily. Perhaps the only reason she had kept him around at times.
'You summoned, I came. What would you have me do, my Darkness?'
He questioned, using the title he always had since he found out her nature.
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Post by Nymiane on Sept 7, 2004 1:01:32 GMT -4
Nymiane's grip tightened around his neck, breath of ice and fire passing from her nostrils onto his neck, nails painted in obsidian were decorated with the widows’ hourglass, crimson. A chuckle seeped through the lips of Nym, was Icor as strong as she had thought him to be? Or was he the babbling fool that stood before her now, oh, she would soon find out.
As he began to speak her, nails skimmed the skin upon his neck, threatening to tear the flesh from him, like a bird of prey ripping meat from his ideal catch. Icor's words cascaded from his lips, pouring into Nym's ears, each word, snarl and quiver from him made her grow amused; nails gently tugged at him, her alluring vocals puffing out into the air.
"Oh, Icor.. Perhaps I gave you too much credit. Perhaps--I overestimated you. Chaos needs not to be organized. FOOL! A waste.. Yes--"
The voice came to an abrupt stop, nails piercing the skin before she pushed him away from herself, Nym's face contorted and eyes narrowed slightly.
"A daft one you are, quite doughty to make a deal with the creator of Chaos and the creator of all you see in this realm."
A mock frown drew her lips down and she fiddled with her dagger like nails, then a chuckle came from her.
"There will be no deal, but please, I wish to hear this one."
A laugh already began to emit from her, sounding like deep-throated growls in the making. Nym's lifeless eyes shifted slightly, she shook her head and raised a hand up, fingernail trailing along her dark lips. Lips parted as if words were about to leave her mouth, she turned upon her heel, teal hue locks waved over her features, lifeless eyes peering through the strands to gaze upon Irikal, a soft chuckle admitting as she bowed to him, mockingly.
"Here, a minion of Chaos.."
She extended her hand, motioning towards Icor, a twisted smile caressing her face as she wrapped her cloak about her tightly, shadows tying it and keeping it formed to her perfect figure, hands slipped into the opposite sleeves then quickly pulled out as she placed her hands upon his face. Nymiane's lips brushed with Irikal's, her eyes fading, sea green eyes peering into his.
"Show Icor, Chaos..You know where to find me."
She tossed the hood of her cloak upon her head, figure vanishing from the sight, passing onto her realm once more, Irikal could take it from there and if he could not, he was hardly worth it, perhaps both were over-estimated.
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Post by Icor on Sept 7, 2004 18:10:03 GMT -4
His smile strained, his gray teeth showing in his grin. Icor only groaned softly as the flesh on his neck warped under Nym's sharp grip, splitting slightly so that his black blood beaded up around where her claws punctured. As she shoved him away, he staggered with a greater lankiness than he did before, cracking his back a little as his posture straightened. A frozen layer of moisture had build up around his jaw and his neck due to Nym’s icy breath.
He stroked his neck, paying no heed to Irikal, yet, a'fixing his attention to Nym. A gruff voice emanated from his blue lips, a groan flowing on his chilly breath as he continued to trail his withered fingers over his small, frozen wounds – "Perhaps it was a mistake to speak of a deal, goddess, but -you- are mistaken as to think I already follow your boorish and indelicate style. I only wanted to learn of it". He dropped his hand down to his side, a snapping sound cracking through the air as he rolled his head in a full circle. His lip twitched as his smile faded, and he continued – "…I only wanted to learn, seeing as how you so conveniently came to me. Never… will I be…" – his speech paused for a moment as he dramatically turned his head, his motion fluid; his arm arched up and he pointed toward the shadowy figure with a crooked finger, finally showing his knowledge of Irikal's presence. "That thing you best refer to as a pawn. I serve only myself". He lowered his arm before turning to watch Nym fade out of existence.
"Perhaps the pawn will be more worthy to teach…"
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Eldroth
Noble
Harbringer of Chaos
At the end of the day, everyone's a victim.
Posts: 77
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Post by Eldroth on Sept 8, 2004 13:56:55 GMT -4
'As my Darkness commands.'
He whispered, a suprisingly living sound coming from a man who was known as death incarnate, after their lips had broken. As the darkness coalested and Nym vanished from the visible spectrum Irikal turned those tri-coloured eyes towards Icor. Flames of the different hues flickered and licked around each other, let the flames gave no light. If anything, despite the flames, they absorbed light, disappitating still more from the already meagre supply. His tongue flickered out briefly, tracing the thin, pale lips then he smiled. A smile that had made demi gods shiver from the pure evil and violence it hinted at. But his voice was still the same as he mocked the other.
'Pawn? Everyone is a pawn until they gain enough power to overrule their master. Same as everyone, at the end of the day, is food for the maggots...Except for me, naturally.'
He added the last as an afterthought.
'And personally, I fail to see you overruling the Darkness.'
He laughed softly, the sound suprisingly human. Yet unnervingly alien.
'So you think you know Chaos youngling? You wish to see the different types? You think maybe, you can harness it?'
Irikal snorted derisively, pale, elegant fingers caressing his pommel stone of his sword.
'One can't harness evil, only submit to it. If you've lived out your mothers cradle as a squalling infant then you'd know that. Any fool knows that. You claim to serve no one but yourself? Everyone serves the Darkness. Every horror spawned in mans mind, every act of terror, every think you have done. They all serve her.'
Irikal shook his head in disappointment at the blinding nature of arrogance. Only be arrogant if you have the power to be. This specimen obviously did not. Such a shame, he had the right mindset. At least he made no pretences that he served anything other than Darkness.
'Shall we take a peak at the Chaos then youngling?'
Irikal smiled maliciously, before, in one fluid movement, he grasped his swordhilt in two hands. The blade whispered from the sheath, a burning sliver of burning white, edged with retina searing irridencent blue, twirling once at the end of the draw, then being slammed down into the ground at his feet. A flash of light flared, then ones vision was only an impenetrable greyness.
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Post by Icor on Sept 8, 2004 18:43:00 GMT -4
He drew his cloak over his shoulders as he turned fully to face the being; No weapons could be seen, only clothing wrapped over his skin. His mask remained over his eyes, showing not his nose, or his cheeks – only the coy smile on his lips.
He whispered softly, though his voice remained powerful and deep in pitch: "You must be deaf if you assume I have confidence in my knowledge of your Chaos. You came to me. You both came to me. You came to critisize and judge without truly aknowledging me".
He inclined his head a small bit and his smile only grew; despite the fact the corners of his lips tugged tighter, the wryness in the grin vanished into an almost proud smirk. "You preach just like the charmed. I know nothing of servitude to your darkness, as you know nothing of my pure and unchained freedom! Tortured and beautiful freedom." – His voice trailed into a jagged, breathy sigh as his head tilted back even further.
Icor showed abhorrence in Irikal’s presence, only opportunity. "You will not shackle me to your crude idiosyncrasy, but you will teach me of it. Like any artist, I am willing to learn, but disobliging to become ... obsessed".
He did not shift in his position, watching the sword drive into the ground. The colors wreathed around and unsaturated swiftly. He hunched a little, still unarmed, and lowered his head forward until his chin almost touched his chest.
"Blindness again. Blindness."
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Eldroth
Noble
Harbringer of Chaos
At the end of the day, everyone's a victim.
Posts: 77
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Post by Eldroth on Sept 9, 2004 15:20:32 GMT -4
'I came because my Darkness called me youngling, but shall we see if your chaos can stand to mine? Or perhaps a touch, it would be unfair to overload you.'
The voice came out of the air, which was heavy and thick, ones every movement like moving through oil. The WasteLand expanded around, the ground was a desert, ultra fine crystals that blinded in rainbow hues, shifting the colour and pattern of the land. It never stayed still, forcing the eye to always adjust to see. It was desolate, yet, in the distance one could see a mountain range, and at the bottom, trees. But for now, it was fine grains of crystal that got in every single crevice, and coated everything you had. The sky was a rust coloured, with pregnant black clouds above. The crystals, reflecting the light and heat that got in, was insulated by these, making the air baking hot. The atmosphere around shimmered, oily, and out of the corner of ones eye, one could see snatches of creatures flickering around. Small, medium, large. Winged, scurrying. Every sort, all a scorning parody of any beast known to man. It was also from this atmosphere where one saw the faces. They clustered around the intruder, intent, curious, malicious, amused. Flickering in and out of existance, mouthing words of madness and horror. Words never meant to be heard by mortal ears, languages of Dark Gods, of demons. Of truthful lies, and distracting engagements. Paradoxes of everything imagenable, swirls of colour, and the faces always talking to one. No life however. No life at all. The crystals of the dune infront of Icor made it seem like the faces followed from the ground aswell, shadows thrown crazily seemly raising the sand to hi-light a face. Again the whispers of madness, yet this time they were accompanied by a darker voice, that foamed like black froth in ones mind and crackled like ice. There was no way to go, except everywhere.
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Post by Icor on Sept 9, 2004 17:29:43 GMT -4
Icor remained unaffected, visibly; though his smile had long died, no sign of fear flickered over his expression. He swept his carious fingers through the various faces, also having no affect upon them as they babbled in curses and in praises, happiness and sorrow, anger and compassion – the rambling was wicked to the ear and piercing as they fought and nothing seemed to fit or make any logical sense.
"Why is it, pawn, that you continue to think I even have any relation to the mere allegiance with Chaos in general? Is it your belief that -all- forms of darkness are chaotic? If so, then disremember our deal..."
His upper lip arched a little into a sneer, and he continued, pulling his draping cloak back over his shape; His voice was gurgled and enraged - "...I do not want to take up, in any way, such a befuddled and grotesque style of sorrowful plague!"
With these words, he inclined his head, the only emotion hinting from his mouth: His lips were curled down, and his teeth were meekly glinting from behind them in a reversed grin.
"Return me to the scent of the next – This place eases my chest. I want it to burn. Now."
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Eldroth
Noble
Harbringer of Chaos
At the end of the day, everyone's a victim.
Posts: 77
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Post by Eldroth on Sept 10, 2004 14:29:36 GMT -4
'Burn burn!' 'Yes yes but only if you have the power!' 'Do you have the power minion?' 'Not here!'
The voices scrabbled around inside Icors head, like small creatures all searching for purchase on the inside of his skull. Then a new voice permiated the others. Knocking the others contemptuously aside, and Irikals voice scoured into his head. Like a sandstorm, flaying a corpse free of flesh.
'Of course not. Nym is the Chaos...But it is I who is the darkness. This is Nyms touch to the Wasteland...Nice don't you think?'
Irikal smiled at him, as he came around from Icors blindside. Dressed exactly the same, his clothes rippled with some unseen and unfelt force. Idley he traced patterns in the crystals with the tip of his sword, faint azure lines following from his sword.
'Anyways, hope you enjoy your stay, it's quite a lovely place. If you want to burn it...Feel free to try'
Irikal flashed a smile and was gone again, as if he had never been. Challenge had been laid, although Irikal never had much decision who would win. It was his domain after all...
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Post by Icor on Sept 10, 2004 15:48:03 GMT -4
The faint hint of anger that could be translated primarily from his lips remained, even as the voices wailed inside his cranium. He lowered his head a little; His arms began to tremble under the cloak as Irikal spoke, and the voices dared and insulted.
"I will not be staying long, pawn. You will take me back, or I will take myself. Where they find torment, I find peace, and I loath it." – The calmness in his tone seems strained, from either pain, anger, the mere attempt to keep retain control of his voice, or all of which. He trailed his fingertips over the front of his mask, feeling its smooth surface as he turned to look about the endless field of shimmering sand, each way a maze of emotion-confused faces.
"These units – they are washed of thought. All blind. All putrid!" – he continued after Irikal had finished speaking and faded away. The crystals around his feet began to blacken and shake slightly. The blue fragments, in fact, turned as black as his obsidian mask, vibrating into a blur in a perfect circle around the foundations of his stand.
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Eldroth
Noble
Harbringer of Chaos
At the end of the day, everyone's a victim.
Posts: 77
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Post by Eldroth on Sept 11, 2004 10:21:16 GMT -4
The sands shifted, the darkened area disappearing, as the fine top layer was blown away, leaving unblemished surface underneith. Irikals mocking laugh floated through Icors head.
'Leave?! You actually think you can leave without me letting you? Gods burning your an arrogant one. And if you loath peace...'
Vague amusement and hint of threat was held in Irikals voice before the word shifted and senarios were placed within Icors mind, changing with metaphysical flickers.
Prosperity and peace ruled over Everhath. Swathes of golden wheat rippled like the sea in fields, while brooks and streams burbling happily on their meandering way, while river grass blew in the breeze and cattle and animals of all sorts grazed happily of the great expances of GrassLands. Pure bred horses, glossy coats, muscles rippling underneith galloped across the plains. Cows were patiently milked, their lowing tuning the air. Everything was clean, no epidemics, no disease. Even the great cities looked clean...
Flicker
The harvest was plentiful, the once impressive fields reduced to stumps, yet still it held its own morbid beauty. The massive forests still stood, the first kiss of autumn touching the leaves turning them a dry, dark gold. The occational cold breeze touched the air, warning those that came and went that the year had yet to deliver winter into their lives. But they did not care. They had food aplenty, firewood was easy to come by. They would be warm and well fed this winter...
Flicker
Icor walked among these people. But his body was not his own. His vision was however. He saw himself lending his muscles to hauling grain, to wielding a scythe, but when he tried to turn it into a weapon against another, it simply passed right through, to carve again at the wheat. On a cart, driving, no whip for one was not needed. His eyes watching his body do things for good and the benefit of other people. The feel of the reins between his hands, rasping along the callouses that had built up from working a scythe. He could feel the texture of everything down to his clothes and the earth beneith his boots. He could smell everything, and hear the chatter of daily life. Even his thoughts 'came crowded, thoughts of helping, of looking after things, or organising...
Irikal smiled to himself.
'Like the show my Darkness?'
He queried to the empty air at the top of the highest tower on his labrynth riddled onyx megalith. Forearms crossed, leaning on the ledge of the window. His tongue flickered over his lips. His senses catching the first touch of fear. Not bad, but he expected better. With the patience born of ten milenia of existance, the First Count waited.
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Post by Icor on Sept 13, 2004 21:59:41 GMT -4
Regardless of the place, the feelings, there is one sense that Irikal could never mimic inside Icor’s mind and body – a special sense that drove him day by day. "Is this a joke, pawn…" he thought to himself, grasping the fact that he had no control over his own movements. These ideas that poured into his mind, these sights, none of them bothered him – it was peace, but not the peace that starved him… Not the peace he spoke of. This was peace in the literal, his peace was metaphorical.
In the air, all around him, floated scents and auras that he still saw, and smelled, these things made him want to smile with relaxation and final relief over the previous, void WasteLands; He couldn't truly express himself in this false world, he could only feel it. Drinking from these hidden sights and smells, he regained a clear mind and began to wonder things that confused him – "Have we been so quickly forgotten? Or are we simply ignored? Does Chaos even confuse us? Pawn, these things, they do not trouble me." – he continued to himself as his temporary shell reaped from a bright field with other humans. Aiding, producing, creating.
"I repeat, let me back to the truth, the world where I may reap, and break, or I will let myself."
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Post by Nymiane on Sept 15, 2004 1:43:52 GMT -4
"Could have been better.."
The alluring voice called out, a figure stepping foot onto the balcony of the tower, footsteps falling silently upon the stone floor. Nym's eyes had faded to a teal coloration, fingers gripped upon the wall, pushing her away and towards Irikal. Rose hued lips lay in a thin line, a frown almost apparent.
"No patience this one."
A chuckle came from her as she drew her finger close to her lips, allowing them to gently caress them. Thoughts of how she could show the true meaning of chaos pelted her brain. Chaos was not just in war and actions, but in the mind and hard. Chaos was not just blood shed, it was bickering, it was thoughts thrashing against thoughts. Eyes shifted and she turned her back to Irikal, hands clasping behind her back.
"Let him back into his comfort zone, before he cracks. I thought he was stronger than this..."
A smile lifted her lips up and soon she entered the darkness of the tower once more, vanishing. Laughter echoed as she walked down the steps, hand upon the wall, her shall wavering in the breeze. The air heavy, smoky, it would smother the ordinary. The Tower was enveloped in darkness, light barely touched it, baron was the perfect word for the land..She chuckled and sat down upon a chair, it was warm, yet cold, here she thought, pondering. What to do...
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Eldroth
Noble
Harbringer of Chaos
At the end of the day, everyone's a victim.
Posts: 77
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Post by Eldroth on Sept 16, 2004 16:11:40 GMT -4
'Darkness.'
Irikal whispered, tri-coloured irises still lingering on Nym. Around Icor the landscape dissolved back into the hypnotic crystal shifting. Shutting his eyes he stretched, and yawned sighing disappointedly.
'It's alot more fun when they violently break, and then go blank afterwards. They wander around, white skin and staring eyes and you can say to yourself with pride. 'I did that!' '
The ancient First Count of Duokam smiled maliciously and the walls of the tower changed, showing a lost woman. Her only clothes were a tattered white night gown, blood stained and dirt abrased. Dried blood carved runnels through the paleness of the skin on her inner thighs, scratches oozed fresh blood from her upper arms. Her hair had originally been blonde, but now it was wild and tangled, twigs and such all messed up together. Both Nym and Irikal held the power to see the faces that whispered around and through her. Leaning back on the balcony, his attention completely diverted from Icor, or Nym, the master of his domain slowly worked, tri-coloured irises burning with associated colour fire. He easily broke into her mind, he doubted she would even notice. Finding both the pain and pleasure centres of her brain he smiled, brushing power against each. In the view, the girl stopped and gave a short, sharp scream. Immediately her mouth started moving.
'No more! No more...Please no more...'
Echoed around Irikals head, before he tapped one of the pain centres sharply with his power. The girl's mouth distended, a short scream ripping from her, before he slowly caressed the pleasure centres, in slow, long strokes of his magic. The girls screaming cut off. Her mouth open, her eyes slightly glazed as a soft moan emitted. Irikal gently worked, the girls breathing getting faster, and her noises higher pitched. Then her legs gave way and she collapsed, the orgasm hitting her so hard it broke through the pleasure/pain line, then Irikal stabbed the pain centre as she crossed that line. It took a while to register, but soons her moans of ecxtasy became writhing, choaked screams of pain. Eventually Irikal relented, and the girl stayed curled up in a protective ball, sobbing and shivering. Then she started screaming. High, pitious. Irikal smiled softly. His new servant would soon be with him. As the girl got up and tried to take a few stumbling steps, it was clear what had happened. A spiked black flexible root had ripped through the ground of the forest and was now writhing its way up between her tightly closed thighs, ripping her skin from its barbs as it travelled. Irikal blew his servant to be a mock kiss, his grin sadistic, before shutting off the view and turning to Nym.
'Well?'
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