The Dark Realmz
IC Central [RPG ONLY] => "Ayenee Nexus: Where Imagination Knows No Bounds => RP Archives 2005-2019 => Topic started by: Shawn on August 25, 2008, 03:14:32 PM
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Hmph. This place hasn't changed. Dull and dreary as ever.
A few moments pause.
Don't look at me like that! I know I said I have never been here before. It does not mean that my child wasn't. I thought I explained this to you!
The silence picks up again, only to be broken.
Okay, okay. Let's just do this and get it over-with. This Darkbane land drives me nuts.
A man moves along the darkened, decayed path with little to show for his hasty words save for a companion that seems to be restless. A large, hulking mass of black fir hunched over with teeth that glimmer even in a realm of total pitch seems irritated, moving with obvious displeasure at the man clad in the darkest of red beside him. A sigh escapes pursed lips as heavy eyes fall closed, an appearance of sleep deprivation apparent upon the man's face. Oh, the tales he could tell. A gauntlet reaches down and caresses the black armor, two fingers lightly stroking it almost apologetically. It was true, the man hated bringing the beast to places like this. Hell, even He hated coming to places like this, but there was unfinished business here.
A child. The man spoke of a child. One would wonder, who would let a child into the lands of the Darkbane? What sick, twisted, vile creature of madness would allow the purity of youth to fall into the dark and abysmal home of those who were enwreathed in the wicked and darkest of arts? The truth was, this child was no real child. It was merely a fragment of the man who walked here, now, in search of something the child supposedly left behind in this place in it's great haste to leave. An artifact. A piece of itself was left there, though there was truly no hint to it's existence other than rumor and speculation. Needing to see just what the child may have left behind, the man pursued further into the depths of this land. The child was one of immense power, levels that dwarfed almost all the other children the man had at any given time.
Tongra Bloodbourne. A creature. An entity that went by many names. It represented the dark, brooding, lust-filled desires of a man who had never truly grown until it was separated from him. A creature that commanded power over shadow and blood alike, a demon and a God in many of his own ways. A man who called himself the Black Tiger God. So needless to say, an artifact to the caliber of the one who wielded it - or perhaps, even created it - would prove beneficial and nothing less. There were rumors that Tongra had left a necklace here. One with a black diamond situated in the center. Some said it was meant for the only woman he truly loved with all his wicked, non-existent heart.
But since the man in red seemed to care little for the lore other than the power, it was where he was headed. Right into the nest of the Darkbane. Knowing that since times had long since passed and the clan was virtually desolate, Shawn feared little for any and all who would dare cross his path. Whether it was arrogance or Shawn knew more than he let on would remain to be seen, as for now he would continue deeper into the womb of this land.
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[align=center]"Who is this?"
"I do not know. Ask?"
"They have returned. Our souls are damned."
"They have come to steal away what little of us is left"
"ssssssh, they will here the tongues of the hapless ones."
"They will not mourn for us, but rob us of our peace."
"No good can come of this"
"No good."[/align]
[align=justify:abfb6da3d8]..... cries faintly heard upon the chilly winds as unfurled hatreds bloom and unfold. Whimpers, moans and anguishes merging from every wipsy shadows. Every crevice of sorrow these lands have bleed from every single living thing that had been tainted by its harsh, mericless hands. [/align:abfb6da3d8]
[align=center]"Silence!!! We are but the wind, nothing more"
"yes! We are nothing more."
"Nothing...."
"....no more....[/align]
[align=justify:abfb6da3d8]Then the sounds faded but the lingering essence of sorrow and pain seemed to grow and more with each passing moment. Every footstep and every breath. For all the death and blood, for all the broken bones and skulls. All the bodies and souls this land had taken a spirit emerged from the burning coals of the burning wood and blackened ash. The fiends that had been Darkbane, the extinguishers of all life, the bringers of death. This is what they were but long gone all that was now left were the miserable souls of ghosts mourning for the light or the means of passage from this barren wasteland of purgatory, of hell. It was these wraiths that whispered, mourned in sufferance unable to break free from the chains of wicked spells.
Wandering amorphous figures danced in ebony wreathes behind the travelers, lost were they in their paths and any life form they leeched onto with as much vigor as a parasite. Ethereal tatters flagging about in the rancid frozen winds like fog gathering to smother all warmth and existence. Spiraling around limbs, grayish ribbons to decorate in death shrouds. Again the voices softly emerged through the ash imbued winds.[/align:abfb6da3d8]
[align=center] âWhy are you here?â
âNo, turn backâ
âLeave!!â
âNo, death is here.â
âDEATH IS HERE!!!â[/align]
[align=justify:abfb6da3d8]Variations of muted voices merging into louder and disharmonious notes of doom. Whether these spirits intended to warn or throw the travelers off from whatever they sought here, only the travelers could assume. Physically they could not harm, elementally their powers were limited to that of air and earth. But no doubt the travelers would detect they were the souls of those who had died here, slaughtered in battles, sacrifices or personal amusement from torture and rituals. There was nothing of life here, whatever artifact these strangers were questing for was nothing of their knowledge but who knows within the maelstrom of uselessness there could easily be a shade of one who once possessed the name. For not all the victims who had died here, had been brought here. Some were of its very blood. All they had to do was find it or the place this item had been very well hidden.
It was then that the voices turned into screams. A change in the energy around the place, having detected the awakening of one so old she had been forgotten. Pandora. The winds turned from mild to violent, outraged. Clouds rolling over the sky in blackness as lightening inflicted the skies with radiance of red. The heavens were bleeding. Ghost-like arms reaching out through the smoke, grapping at the travelers garments and limbs only to pass through them. Nothing of substance, Nothing but air. But they pointed towards the ruins of a temple.[/align:abfb6da3d8]
[align=center]âsheâs awakeâ
âSHEâS AWAKEâ
âThere in the darkness.â
âSTAY AWAY!!!â[/align]
[align=justify:abfb6da3d8]It may have meant nothing to those walking the path of the dead. But the screams would certainly cause attention enough towards the temple. Maybe their voices wouldnât perturb the strangers, then again maybe they would. There was no means to influence their mission. Maybe their words would do more to aid than hinder. Who could guess? Certainly not the spirits, but maybe the outsiders crossing over from life into a realm of death. What was this item of importance? Only these outsiders obviously knew. [/align:abfb6da3d8]
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All dark places had dark creatures, it came with the territory. Another creature lurked in the sable shelters of the shadows. Obsidian maws dripping with ancient vemons as its body remained crouched, just watching. It had been what seemed to be years, maybe even centuries that life walked these plains of soot and earth. Parts of the land black, ravaged by fire and the chalky residue of crushed bones, eroded by the weather. Sniffing at the air, muzzle grimacing into a sneer while nostrils flared in and out, drawing in the precious scents. The creature didn't smell the ravishing scent of fear in these dwellers, for now it was the only reason it remained back in the shadows. Watching.
From above, just upon a cragg on the edge of a cliff it remained watching, leaping from ridge to ridge so that its interest didn't vanish off into the blackened yonder. Curious to see what had brought them here? No one came here for no reason, often to bring back their wretched dead loved ones back to life, curses or other dark reasons for magic. It was never for no reason and the temple spires had long been empty of power. Like a monster cursed to eternal sleep. All this creature knew was no longer did it recive its sraps from the mistresses hands, long had it not felt slender fingers through its mantle of thick black fur. Hunger plagued the ancient sumerian beast. Hunger plagued its sleep and dreams. No longer was its fur soft, now it was matted, thick with the gore of kills and having to pick the scraps from the flesh left to rot from the bones of those dead to battle. Or those too curious for their own good.
Crimson eyes shifting to study these foreigners, squinting to further the distance of sight. Again sniffing at the air, ears shifting to listen in closely to any words spoken that were of familiarity. Even if they became aware of its presence, for now it wasn't hostile. The hunger for fresh blood was being controlled by what little of its will it had left. It wasn't a beast without reason, just one that remembered its punishments well in the past. Like any animal you punish it hard enough, it begins to obey. Unfortunately the severe hand of its mistress had not been too stern and old habits were beginning to return fast. It did not smell its mistress on these creatures, just in case she was trying to trick it. She was a clever mistress, it made no mistake about that. Then again maybe these before it were just as clever and just as cruel.
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A gauntlet hand would rise from beneath the cowl and cloth of his large cloak, coming to the man's forehead and brushing the hair back. He laughed. Laughed. The whispers that had come had fallen upon deaf ears, for he cared not of who dwelled in this land. He who was soulless could gorge himself upon these spectral essences, rendering them null and void. But such would be the way of arrogance in his mind, therefore he would not attempt to sully his hands upon souls too weak to protect themselves. A man of honor, he was.
The lone creature at his side snarled but made no move to alter it's path, keeping to the side of it's master. Even as the ghastly hands reached forth only to trail through the armor-clad figure, perhaps even they would sense the raw essence emanating from that which composed this man. As the temple came into view, the cries and screams in fact caught the man off guard. The skies trembled and roared, foretelling the truth of what should come forth. Where there should have been fear, there was a glimmering anticipation in the wild-eyed man. Gaze fixated upon the temple, he seemed almost animalistic with excitement to discover what may lay dormant here. Perhaps, even, a soul worth sating his hunger?!
SHE'S AWAKE
"Who?"
The stranger asked, finally composing himself once more. The orb that would normally float above his shoulder instead came from beneath his cloak, moving before the specters that followed step by step. A red sphere shifted back and forth, studying the specimens that were lost in translation. The man would never turn back, never drop his gaze for now his goal was well within his sights. Without giving more than a brief second to answer him, a more vicious voice arose.
"WHO?!"
The orb spazzed. Spikes jutted out in all directions as it shook vigorously, quivering with what seemed to be a mix between anticipation and fear.
Make no mistake about it, the man was intrigued. The moment they said "She's Awake" he took to the recesses of his mind, shifting files to a specific directory: Tongra Bloodbourne. Again he searched, sifting through the names of women related to Darkbane that he knew. Atra, was it? Perhaps yes, perhaps no. Cycles of information from millenia would pass through his mind in but a brief moment, retelling the history Tongra had here. The Temple was precisely where he was headed.
The creature that followed him caught the attention of his companion, but Shawn feared nothing of a lowly beast. His manipulation of the various elements were but a trifling beginning to the arts possessed within him, now. There was nothing this place had that he hadn't seen, including it's spires that could supposedly suppress power. They had most likely never encountered a creature like this man before, but who knows? He was not here to fight, after all, but if they brought one to him - oh yes, there would be blood.
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In the dimmest darkest corner, hidden away and covered in dust and strung with the webs of countless generations of spiders, stood what appeared to all glances a statue carved from the darkest obsidian... A statue of essentially humanoid form but with a semblance of serpentine effulgance. A forked tongue extending twixt the stone cast lips, a subtle indicator of the sculptors art. Miniscule particles fragrancing the atmosphere, tantilising and dancing on the motes of dust bequeathed zephyr.
The motion indicative of presence, the presence causing ripples far beyond anticipation for they reached within the standing form, tweaking potentials, firing synapses amidst the slow molecular depths. A shuddering deep within the stone as electro magnetic impulses stimulated a mutation on a deep near atomic level, speeding the motion of electrons and protons, particles once slow moving and stable, twisting in paradoxical distortion, vibrating in rapid stimuli as the mass of the statue altered in near magical fashion to draw life into the shadow of lifelessness.
The tips of what once was stone tongue, vibrating in extreme rapidity seeking to taste the stranger moving in this place, stone become flesh, the rest of the body quick to follow as the momentum of change spread with venomous rapidity, skin, hard and scaled enfleshing the form, pallid greyness of stone taking the deep rich mottle of serpentine sheen, lips blackening to midnights apparations, the eyes, the eyes taking on a silvered embullience gleaming, glowing in the depths of darkness surrounding his form. The mouth now open revealing razor sharp fangs amidst gleaming obsidian teeth, tongue lashing out again and again deciphering the undercurrants of scent, so delectable on the palate. Course, reptilian appendages, heavy mithral claws extended outwards then flexing, droplets of dark potence forming on their tips as the last hint of stony respite left his form, shaking himself to clear the webs binding upon him, head facing upards in the truth of his serpentine vagarity Ladislas took a step out from the gloom surrounding him.
The air held the scent of multiple presences, that of a male, a warrior perhaps, for the smell of battle clung to this presence, steel, blood and pain travelled with this one. An ectoplasmic variance flittering across the forks of his tongue, giving rise that the undead spirits moved and swayed as always they had and would, yet there seemed an excitement in their flavour, perhaps due to the mans presence. Another presence, smelling of ancient and perverse hungers, a creature of the mistress for only her whim made such hungers and Ladislas accepted this as ally for such creatures protected that which should not be revealed and lastly a presence to which Ladislas had no memory execpt for a passion in his blood recognising elsewhere in her own formal awakening, one whom held them power of blood and agonies... But she would be for later, for now his desire was to seek and investigate the newcomer, the male whom he recognised not, perhaps seeking power, perhaps seeking an artifact of some descript.
It made no matter to Ladislas, until otherwise instructed, by she that forged his presence, he would go forth in all his venomous semblance, his breath chilling forth from his body surrounding him in a glowing miasma, his eyes cutting through the inked penetrance with their toxic mercuric glimmer to seek this newcomer, the gaze of Ladislas held far more then courage could possibly permit... and its indiscrimination knew no restrictions... Striding forth he would seek this newcomer, discover what he sought and what right he believed he held to stand in this unholiest of places.
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Shawn continued onward for what seemed an eternity of boredom, conversation all but dwindling between his beastly companion and the spectral anomalies behind him. The orb that gazed upon them slipped back beneath his cloak, though this time it would burrow deep underground beneath the guise of his shadowed figure. The only one who would know it's whereabouts was him, the one who controlled it. Otherwise it was the equivalent of the earth itself - taken, established and invisible.
If one inspected his form closely, no breath would escape his lips despite his exasperated sighs and inhales. He did not breathe for the purpose of survival, but for the purpose of communication through physical or verbal means. Time pressed on and he did as well, yet still with no answer from the haunts that pursued a hopeless endeavor. They would find no excitement from the man anymore, for his goal was now more focused than ever and set in stone before his very eyes. The Temple. A wreckage, a smile crept upon his lips as the devastation found way into a clearer view. In this, he would feel no remorse rummaging through the aftermath in search of his prize.
The beast beside him hissed and gazed from side to side, sockets as pitch as the void would scan the area as it sensed more and more awakening around them. It took only a moment of this attention for a hand to move to it's mane, patting it on the armor as the man stopped to crouch beside the beast. Empty sockets softened as the head moved and nuzzled against the man, clearly responding to his calming actions without hesitance. The man would once more rise to his feet and resume walking, the creature fixating gaze upon him for a little while longer before making way to his side. It seemed less restless now than it had earlier; less anxious and fearful, more serene and peaceful.
Shawn approached now, moving beyond what was once a mighty gate that now lay in debris. The stairs had crumbled in various places, tired and worn stone so weak and lifeless that it could give way at any moment. Feather-like footsteps would take the heavy, armor-clad man up to the door. Amazingly, it was still standing.
It was true and within good reason the Burgeus could sense apparitions aplenty in this place, as Shawn could sense them very well. Synapse would release in distorted resonant waves, reverberating through sub-atomic particles at such an accelerated rate that there was no inhibiting force applied to the structural integrity of the existent reality about him. This ultra-sensory was a concentrated one, partitioning half his enhanced abilities into sensory alone. This, however, gave him a wicked perception of time to the point where it seemed like an eternity had passed since he started walking up until the door. He was well aware that something - no, several things had awoken from the very moment a sabaton fell upon this tainted land. He now knew just where it was.
This being said, the warrior's focus digressed and his natural form found itself within a high speed vertigo of perception - a second was finally a second once more. The lumbering creature moved itself to steady it's master as he stumbled, using it's powerful body and well fitting armor as a brace. A few moments to regain his composure and he would look down once more to his concerned brethren, nodding to affirm his condition had righted itself. True, this man was once a Keeper of Time and Knowledge. An eternity was something he'd spent alone many times over, watching and recording events all throughout history - events that had not even happened yet. This perception was still potent enough, however, to jaunt even his most steadfast of senses.
A gauntlet rose from beneath the cowl and rapped against the door, awaiting a response before he may attempt to enter. If they were awake and he truly wanted to avoid a fight, they would not exactly like him breaking the door down. Then again, he cared not to answer their questions either. Why he was here was of his own business - if they did not allow for him to accomplish his task, he would see to it they would not stand in his way.
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Hnn...how interesting, Burgeus. It seems they want us to make ourselves at home.
With a mediocre partition of power, the mighty warrior would knock upon the door with vigor and force. The result was loud, obnoxious and violent. The door flying from it's hinges and slamming into the wall across the way, impacting and compacting itself within it. It would most likely draw the attention of others, now that he thought about it. But perhaps, in his vain attempts at remaining civil, not answering the door to his likings was almost insulting. Especially if they knew he was here.
Walking inside, Shawn would gaze around at the architecture, observing whether it was by some great folly that the door would move so easily or if he had just become that powerful. The structural integrity of this place was - for the most part - still solid enough to hold, even with this place in shambles.
From an artistic standpoint, it was disastrously beautiful. Even the crumbling walls gave this place an eerie yet serene feeling, like it housed many over the years whom could fill such decadent halls. This place carried with it a sense of familiarity, as if some point in the warrior's life this place had been an adventure for him. A flashback would force itself into his mind, enough to jar him for the moment. Twice already he suffered an episode to assault his senses. This place was not good for him.
Ugh...no hospitality and twice already I've been dizzied from coming here. Let's get this overwith quick.
Slamming the palm of his hand onto the floor, a glyph would form and glow brilliantly before sizzling out of existence. From there, Shawn would plop onto the floor with feet on the ground and knees up. Placing his elbows on his knees, Shawn would sit and lean back against the implanted door either waiting for it to show up or waiting for someone to respond to his actions.
In truth, Shawn would soon be lost in his own little world with the Burgeus at his feet. Partitioning all his power into his perceptions, time would dilate for him and soon all things would begin to slow. This was how he kept time to himself, for himself. Allow the whole of existence to slow to a crawl.
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[align=justify:6808f6bc62]Kadasha did not know why she bothered checking on the haunts of old. Haunts that had gone from sour to rotten during her course of having to stain herself with the ghosts of broken victims. Kadasha had never been one to involve herself in the pitiful squabbles that had long suffocated her will to even allow the blood to flourish. Still, there had been some fond memories through the misery. Darkbane, yes it had once been a name of fear and oblivion, now, nothing but dust and bones. It deserved to stay dead and buried at least from a follwers prospective. Kadasha had no delusions about her place within the clan, unlike some who thought themselves Gods and Goddesses, or placed upon high to be revered when in actual fact they all had been gravely forgotten. Ske never spent a second thinking of their names or faces, for the best bit they all remained in the darkness, buried beneath the earth.
Kadasha was just a vampire, bitten by the Arch Priest of Darkbane,Ballathor. She played her par well to bring the death of innocents but never anything on a grand scale unlike the likes of Atra'Lamia Darkbane, Blissul or Malice. Still the role she played was still a role, she revered in death even bathed in it. Slaughtered virgins and the young, there was little else to do in order to place her name up there amongst the true greats. There wasn't even a time Kadasha even remembered Atra'Lamia let alone Pandora, maybe she wasn't good enough to enrapture in their presences? Did she have bitterness in her blood in regards to this? Yes. But bitterness made it all the more sweeter to bless oneself in more bloodshed and souls.
She didn't know what it was that caused her to rise from the fruitless soul like a corpse animated from its bed of silk and wiltered roses. Nothing came directly to mind other than the activity which stirred her curiousity. Such a curious creature Kadasha was. Then again the sounds that stirred her from the womb of darkness, meant nothing compared to the pulsation of the black stone about her throat. The stone once of Colvin that had been ever so deviously changed to that of the true avatar of Darkbane, the Dimmu. It was its blood that now coursed through the veins of every Darkbane member, not Colvin's and not Pandora's.
A plume of shadow, spiralling uncontrollably from the heart of the temple. Swirling upwards, forming the slender sleek shape of her womanly figure. Long limbs and the swaying of long tresses flowing over light armoured shoulders. There would be no mistake of her hertitage to the clan of Darkbane, by the emblem she wore around her neck unable to remove it. It was not within her power to renounce the name she swore her unlife to. Moving to the direction of the motion, the sound of movement or words spoken. Maybe she could help with their inquiry? Then again maybe she wouldn't be the gracious hostess anticipated. Through the murkiness of the temple she called out, demanding a reply of some form "Who goes there?".[/align:6808f6bc62]
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Rising up from his sitting position, Shawn would place his left palm upon the embedded door in action that seemed to boost him into position. In reality, as Shawn began to walk away, a piece of the door splintered into the palm of his hand in the form of a giant obsidian spike. As he walked with the spike in hand, roughly a foot taller than he, tribal markings found their way etched into steel-like structure.
It took but a moment before he made way to the very spot he once stood, where his palm had also been placed to the ground. There, in that very spot, one handed he would take the spike and slam it with one tip into the ground and the other pointing straight up - the perfect placement in the immediate center. Turning to Burgeus, Shawn would speak again.
"It's time...ignite the flames of vision and let's be on with it."
In but a moment, the creature would roar and a green flame would light itself just above the tip of the spike and cast a shadow in a cone underneath itself. It would then blink three times, then remain idle in it's spot - hovering in a majestic glory. However, this reaction clearly did not please the man who now stood in rage, infuriated by this.
"What is the meaning of this?! It says what I am looking for is right here! Yet I see nothing! It did not summon itself in my presence, nothing! Burgeus, what went wrong?!"
The beast growled at him, taking Shawn back a moment - enough to even provoke a literal step backwards. Or at least, so he had thought, at first. Then, a woman's voice. "Who goes there?"
Within the recesses of Shawn's mind, a maniacal laugh escaped as his rage turned into delight. Glee. He was giddy, and it showed through his companion as it almost appeared to have smiled with it's razor-like teeth bared completely. Shawn would whisper, then, to his creature in a language no other could understand. It would make way behind his back and dissipate, absorbed by ebony tendrils and sucked into the ground.
"Who wants to know?"
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Kadasha heard the voice replying to through through the energetic vibes that were buzzing all around the temple vibrantly. She didn't need to be a high class magic user to detect such things when for long this temple showed nothing of power and none had entered it. Until now. She cared not of flamboyant styles, voices or the way a person/thing appeared, it was all too trivial for Kadasha. Her understanding of things saw beyond that of image and into that of whatever darkness they held inside the empty pits of their souls and hearts. Kadasha didn't pretend to know how to read this event, she simple didn't care enought to wrap herself in grandeur all of the sake of appearing menacingly only to be mocked. People just didn't scare as easily these days. Her attempts would merely be in vain.
One hand patted a yawn, it wasn't in due to the company she was sure but rather being so inactive, her senses were still not quite intune with the current surroundings. She knew enough that he was no Darkbane, most of them were so infant in their usage of powers it was purely laughable even embarrassing in comparison to the likes of Atra and Ballathor. She was sure they all attempted to make themselves all sound important when they were no better off than her, grunts, those inducted simply to shovel shit. Kadasha had accepted the true, maybe it was because she actually had brains that weren't situated between her legs? Remaining statue-like in expression, she moved forward to the travelers. Crossing the area circumferance where they were, doing whatever it was they were doing. She tried to figure it out, but then again, she was no magic or power user.
Eyebrow arch shifting upwards while attempting to study them but falling short and deciding to answer the question which seemed the most important element for the moment, though her reply wouldn't be a glorious one with title and all the typical Darkbane waffle that came with it, that was nothing but boring to her. Then again, talk was never a strong point of Kadasha's. "Ah, no one of any importance. But, perhaps I can assist you in whatever inquiry you within these dead halls? Looking for something, perhaps?" A slim smirk formed over dark red lips, there was no purpose behind it other than the anticipation for what their reply would be and if any name accompanied it.
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Ensanguined depravations of molecular dissention carressing his senses as he strode from his place of solitude, the knock on the archaic doors echoing through the midnights sobriety, the silence of generations shattered. Serpentilian senses suddebnly ajar at teh formation of some glyph, for what purpose, beyond his awareness, but in doing so, making a claim on the place that in reality, they had no right to. Another presence, one of those bearing the right to be here moving to intercept and question the newcomer. Ladislas reacting in forebearance as his creator had designed. Tounge lashing forth as he strode, tasting, analysing, absorbing all he could regarding the newcomer.
It seemed the 'visitor' wanted something, none ventured into these chill darkened halls unless motivated by desire for something, imagined riches, lustful deire for death, the chance to claim status, everyone wanted something, everyone had their price excepting perhaps... So what trinket did this guest suppose he could waltz in and claim, for anything within these halls was of the clan per se and as such came under the goddess's whim. Foolish indeed to ponder removing osmething of a goddess's treasure, from the very stronghold wherein the goddess made her centre. Such issues however were not Ladislas's to decide, his nature was what it was, no more, no less. If they dared look upon him in his zenith, they would see for but a moment what the creator intended, then that same handiwork would run its own befoulments.
Rounding a corner and percieving Kadasha and the stranger, not attempting to shield his presence as he moved with reptilian fortitude towards them, the atmosphere surrounding his body swirling with the sufferance of potencies ecstacy, his eyes still looking upwards due to the physical alterations this form imbued. Ladislas spoke, a voice filled with mischevious resonances, sibilant huskings emerging in whispered hallowings... "what is this? who is this? does it profane the unholiness or does it offer the sacrificial virgin in hope of favour?" Rhetoric emerging, eyes averted, standing back a ways to allow Kadasha to continue her offering. Ladislas for now would wait, offering nothing, expressing nothing, locked in his miasma of mephitical malignancy...
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[align=right:bc69ceef6c](http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y111/triezeharlequin/tongra.jpg)[/align:bc69ceef6c]
The image both would come to, would indeed be something far different than had once remained within these halls. The man who was here moments earlier now looked strange, like a devil or a demon of sorts. Ram horns protruded from his skull, leathery wings expanding from his back and a scarlet hue to his skin. This was none other than Tongra Bloodbourne, known as the Black Tiger Demon God of Lust by many, Death by those who crossed him. His powers held sway over Shadow, Darkness, HellFire and Negative Energy. However, those who knew him best, knew him from his days in Bloodrain and his presence in Darkbane.
To be any of men...why choose this one? hissed a voice from the back of his mind, causing only the briefest of smiles to form upon the corner of his lips at the very same moment the woman would have come into view. Your mouth...silence it. was his mental response, taken in an extremely harsh tone from a voice akin to Shawn's own. The voice he would speak with now, however, carried a much different tone. It was slow and sensuous, dangerously so. It was not that there was an attempt to entice the female - he could care less about her or the man on his way, but rather it was only natural for him to speak as such.
"Why, I come here seeking--" and without time to finish, a man charged in abruptly causing Tongra to look his way even for the briefest of moments. As the man spoke, however, he would be politely ignored. Second to arrive though first to appear, who he was and what he was in this clan were after Tongra's time and thus beyond his caring. Instead, Tongra would continue to watch the woman as he spoke unto her and her alone.
"As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted; I come here if only to see what is left of this place I once swore to protect, and it does appear the throes of time did a number to her form." and with that, fingers would crease gently along the walls as raw power permeated from his very touch - colliding smoothly with the power this place still held, if only somewhat. It was clear that though beings of power remained, this place was all but weak.
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An arousal of motion within the halls of a place bound under the darkest of motives, the tread of beings some of might, and others of dark servitude penetrating the obscure mythology of the lingering curse in which Adaghar wrapped himself in. Eyes snapping open a smirk crystallising his features in amused contemplation at the ways others perceived the realities they existed within. A hand reaching out to caress the energies of the glyph created for Adaghar's realm roiled with corruptive disingenuousness in reaction to any magic and although once outside of his realm he could not use it for his own disturbed graces, he could touch, twist and ponder its existence in his confinement.
Should he or shouldn't he now though was the question of perplexity, but he need not rush his decision, for in the world where such actions took place, mere moments would pass as he spent days contemplating what mischief he could create. Sitting, seemingly frozen in the streams of times irresistible momentum, he thought on just what could be gained by placing himself in the tangible realms again. Eventually deciding that hunger alone was a good enough reason, for while the scraps of agonised immortality flittered past, it wasn't the same as being present for the disillusionment of anotherâs being.
Rising to his feet, mind reaching out to caress his only servant that he would be gone, he strode to where his perceptions of the echo of the glyph still trembled and gently probed it, opened a doorway that would allow his shadowed essence to flow across the continuum and enter the realm in which all this took place. His form would only be noticed as no more then a decaying zephyr until he chose otherwise, his survival for so long a simple fact of only existing, once he crossed the boundary into flesh. Ancient antagonists were of far greater mettle then the current multi generational prospective, excepting of course one whom he had but briefly met.
A subtle manipulation, his form fading into gaseous non existence, allowing himself to flow via the glyph into the grey limbos, where creatures of legend even to the great evils still swam in ravenous degradation, Yet they would avoid Adaghar, simply for the fact they perceived his hungers greater then their own. The raw agonies of translation wrenching his senses into jubilant ecstasy for this was the very meat and bread of his existence, his pain, anotherâs pain all offered satisfaction. He loved the smell and taste of those whom used powers to fight for all power was food, be it a psychic attack, a fireball thrown or any form of energy, even the raw emotions of hand to hand combat were devoured although even he would admit, to eat and fight were much more difficult, then to simply devour raw energies of light or darkness.
Flowing through the lingering essence of the glyph, polymorphic semblance remaining undetectable, possibly one being may do so but she was not present, however the instant he flowed into the cavernous spaces, he felt something hinting of her very essence, and knew that perhaps another creature could sense the undetectable. The poisoned one held her flavour, how curious he found himself pondering, the delicate hint of her design resting upon his minds focus as he flowed, carefully for the toxins present could destroy him even in this state unless he was very careful... Poising to study those present, spirits, a a warrior of the clan that held this place, Something with the manner of a godling whom has not discovered that the climb into godhood gave more limitations then freedoms, amusing him greatly. He had little time for those of godly natures,
For now the feral hungers, insatiable depths would have to wait, as he poised himself to snack upon any possibilities and gave consideration to what possible point the situation attempted to prove in such demented fashion.
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Kadasha didn't know who any of these people were, and she didn't care. She knew the snake guy had essence of the Darkbane blood but didn't know the extent to his claim. His seemed stronger in a more condensed way which caused her to take a second thought into who he was. Maybe he was just another in a different form? That idea could not be ignored. As for the other presences, from what seemed slightly normal, now turned into someone completely different but she sure as hell could not stop herself from taking another look. A smile formed over her scarlet lips, only brief but long enough to be seen. His voice, sensuous, seductive, sultry causing even her to swoon for a moment before having to force her standing back to its cold, uncaring one. But she wouldn't appear rude, but what he said did interest her. A protector of this temple, Darkbane itself. Now that was interesting to her.
"As you can see, nothing is left. I guess this is a result of someone who turns her back, and makes sure nothing and no one is left to revive it. Clever and cruel I say. But if you are who you say you are, then you would know the cruel hand is that of a mistress." Kadasha smiled, this time a more compassionless. "They were punished because of their own treachery and greed. What better way to punish than to take the only thing of beauty here and turn it to stone?" Whether this man would understand her words or not was another thing, but she knew he wasnât an idiot who just stumbled upon here for no reason. No one came here without a reason. Kadasha never had been one to associate herself with other creatures, a recluse by any standard and preferred to keep to herself, it was a good way to remain in one piece and not several. Her role was to be a servant of the temple, to bring sacrifices and newborn souls, her role was not a political one unlike the others, and she liked to keep it this way and it was the only reason she addressed these travelers. It was her duty in an odd kind of way.
Forcing her eyes to look down towards the ground, if she looked at this new figure longer than what she had to, it may been seen as inappropriate, and she didnât think he would want a drooling fool in audience. "Nothing of time did a number to her form, just the refusal of blood and acceptance. Darkbane is motherless. Dead. I remain because it is all I know and I am not one to abandon my duty. I would not dare." It was no lie, Kadasha was scared of AtraâLamia she would be crazy not to be. To abandon her duty would be a sign of weakness and betrayal, she knew the Queen herself had seen enough of it from this ungrateful disgrace of greatness, she would not be one to take up the fashion. "The last that were in these lands was Malice and Atrox. They too left, leaving their duty. But who are you people?" It was the last thing Kadasha would say unless she was asked a direct question and he replied to hers.
She felt another presence make itself known within the temple, it was another she did not know. Why had they come? Were they like crows, here to take whatever flesh was left to be offered. She would not be an easy target for them should that be the case. She may not know magic but she was good enough to live this long purely by the skill of sword and metal. Kadasha sisn't need fancy effects to get her point across. Turning to look at the shadows directly speaking to everyone (every essence) within the temple. "Who are all you people?"
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[align=justify:2bf9f1f9d5]Sniffing at the air, something smelled off, incredibly off and it wasn't its rancid fetid breath or the reoccurance of what it had to endure of a feast the night before. The wolf didn't like how the travelers smelled, was it of magic or something else? It couldn't determine what exactly it was, just that it didn't like it. Snorting once again at the air before turning back around, haunches keeping low while front paws scrapped at the dirt following the path of the strangers as best it could, creeping along the ground and keeping to the shadows of the cliff's peaks. Not by any means was this a brave creature, more like a dog that had been kicked a hundred times too many and left abandoned to the elements, left to starve. It didn't even crave to devour meat or tasty morsels of meat that traveled across the deserted plains.
Back in the days when it had a craving to hunt, to maim and kill this creature was a mighty beast to behold, but now it was nothing but skin and bones. Barely even skin, worn away to the bone and muscle. Mucas oozing from obsidian maws, pus, tatters of skin and sinew from all its dead carnage. Nothing but bones remained here and even then you would have to be lucky enough to find even that. Growling low to itself, barely even being able to find the strength to carry on, let alone find the curiosity to follow and see what this quest was. Where would it end? The creature could only wish for a death that would end its suffering, maybe it would find one with empathy in the temple, give it some meat in exchange for its loyalty?
The wolf knew all the underground passages beneath the temple, crawling its way up through the dusty, muddy earth to bring itself back into the heart of evil. Back arching as a grow manifested to all the strangers gathering in its centre. The only one who smelled remotely familiar was the serpent tongued male by the name of Ladislas. The name drifted into his mind from an unseen source, the distant sound of a woman's voice. Was it his mistress? It couldn't be, she left these plains along time ago and had never been felt again since. [/align:2bf9f1f9d5]
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Serpentine tongue fickering out, forked tips vibrating, sifting through the individual molecules of atmospheric corruptions faster then teh eye couild possibly percieve. Vapourous toxicity remaining closely confined to a small area around his body. Mercuric eyes poised ever upwards, refusing for now to look upon the stranger and for the protection of all others about, Ladislas studied, poised in readiness, heat sensing pits where nostrils should exist, giving a clear reputable picture of all and sundry.
Ladislas was definately certain now that this popinjay had entered for a reason, the demands made of Kadasha that she be silent, the transformation from a being of skin deep beauty into one of more sinister degradation. Ladislas knew that any who walked these halls, beauty was but an illusion for the depravities that lurked below, and the greater the beauty, the deeper and darker the perversions that lay behind the eyes of the being, and the most exquisately beautiful was perhaps the most poisonous of any. So this expansion of revealment, held no surprise, since after all, only those of dark demeanour could safely enter this place.
It seemed this one claimed respect, another had tried that without actions to prove such worthiness prior to making such demand, hence until actions proved value, Ladislas would offer the same indifference as he had before. There was only one command that instantly he would obey, above and beyond any breath given by all others and this one, simply wasn't pretty enough to evoke that obedience.
One thing of Kadasha, she certainly had gumption, standing before an unknown in obvious faith to her clans requirements, no heed of caution, the clan first and not a subservient wretch like others whom had claimed the blood, only to befoul its already corrupt intention with their twisted claims of leadership, power and ability. Personally he would rather crawl up into the ancient shrivelled hole of the one whom birthed Satan then even touch those other cowardly remnants of aborted entrails with their lies.
A zephyr stirring the dust, miniscule particles invoking a taste of another not yet within senses perception, a taste hinting that this one had known his mother and stirring a moments interest before attention would revert back upon the invader, a wolf moving, one of the minions of darker entrophy silently marauding in the tumulteous passages. A smirk creasing Ladislas's lips as this man, this being made claims of being a protector of this place, for indeed if that were true, the being had failed since after all, the place had fallen and to protect, should one not actually remain? An interesting conundrum, causing reptilian lips to part, a hiss of air flowing outwards, and Ladislas would begin to lower his eyes so that he may offer his gaze upon this most intriguing male... A gaze unlike any other, for he was his mothers most sincere creation...
Questions offered by Kadasha, her being effused with the vibrancy of her history, tasted upon the history of dust motes circulating, gaze continuing to lower, increment by tiny increment only in the direction of the male for in this form he would not look upon Kadasha, lips pulling back in the closest thing to a reptilian grin of malicious intent, he spoke, hissing effulgence of sibilant whisper emerging so that he would only just be heard, "I am the unborn child, the one brought from nothing, filled with the venoms of my mothers cruel intentions, formed by the carress of her will upon the weakest of flesh, transforming it to more then dreams can believe... I am Ladislas..."
As he spoke his gaze would continue to lower, but as yet, not fall upon the intruder, not for now anyways...
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Tongra would listen as the woman spoke with words soft upon the ears, the alluring sensation of a female voice fulfilled him to no end with which could remain in sight. It had been so long since he'd last heard a woman's voice and it was a far cry off from this woman's, but her reactions to this body and the way he spoke were nothing short of...delicious.
It was decadent, his musings, into the perplexed meaning of her words as such a time away divulged little to no information on the uncaring ear. In truth, her words were ignored save for the fresh few words that danced at the tip of his tongue. Mistress. Motherless. He was not saddened to hear these words, but remained curious as to which Mistress she spoke of and which Mother she referred. To inquire further may have varying results, as he knew of few Darkbane as opposed to the many that seemed to exist now. Perhaps he was older than they, perhaps not.
Either way, he would respond with nothing but voracious animosity towards the names Malice and Atrox. '"Malice and Atrox! Worthless scum, the two of them! I would raze their miserable corpses, torch the earth and salt the ground as a lesson to all those who would dare follow such footsteps!"
It was natural to show some degree of rage at these names, even if the part was merely being played to perfection. There was a deep-seeded hatred for those two monsters who called themselves men, yet they were nothing more than adolescent miscreants who believed their abilities overshadowed their arrogance. Entities of whom, if given the chance, would have been rightly annihilated upon coming here. A severe lack of subterfuge.
The man spoke this time, in response to the woman. Tongra again heard the term mother, which brought a sneer to his previously enticing visage. An almost demonic hint took to his flesh, beginning to scale somewhat as fury continued to boil the blood in his veins.
"Who, exactly, is this mother you all speak of? Surrogate, perhaps? Atra? Or the rumors I heard of one older than she?" His inquiry was chiseled to perfection, but soon enough his fury would boil over - especially if a response was prolonged for one reason or another. It wouldn't be long now...
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[align=justify:9e17a5a58c]Concerning the snake like one with slight acknowledgment. She didn't know who he was, all she knew was that somehow he was more connected to Darkbane than her, stronger blood as if he was more closer to the mistress of Darkbane than what she initially figured. His name was Ladislas, however her eyes never directly gazed upon him. The silvery tinge to his skin and scale-like transparency informed her of one of two things and both she would keep for her own information and amusements. Facially she did recognize him, slightly and that was hitting the nail on the head.
"Ladislas you say? The name is naught to my ears but you do look awfully like that leech. Now what was his name?" A long sharp claw stroked her chin, nodding in contemplation before the light flickered on in her memory "Radu. At least you don't have the disgusting taint of that leech entirely." Kadasha didn't care if her words sounding disrespectful, she only answered to one person, and one person alone. However she bowed in a half hearted manner before speaking with the delectable one. One who oozed with lust and sex appeal, instantly attractive to a vampire, also seductive with an insatiable urge to obsess over beauty. She obsessed over her mistress to the verge of madness. That beauty had gone, why not savor this one while is lasted? It could be eons before she would see another that even came close to her mistresses beauty.
Keeping her eyes fully focused on the area between his upper lip and bridge of the nose, not looking anywhere else even if she had to will herself not to. "I know of no other mother, not even the miscreant of whom you refer to. I am not permitted to use the name that you have, but yes, I do believe we speak of the same." Moving in a slithered seductive sway towards the traveler, Tongra he referred to himself as. "Malice and Atrox, aren't even a whiff of sadistic air to me. Malice wasn't even swift enough in the head to know he was raping a corpse thinking it was the mistress. As for Atrox he was drained of all energy and forced to watch the events. Hm, not even I would have thought of something so cruel and callous. It turned him insane. I am not sure he is not the first man to fall insane to her sadistic charms."
She smirked yet again just anticipating the thought of that evil ingenuity. Personally she had nno grudges against Atrox. Malice on the other hand, as far as Kadasha was concerned if you bed with dogs, you wake up with fleas. "So what is your claim of glory in the legend of she, if you even have one? Yes I am nosy, but you see I have little else do to." Kadasha shrugged, it wasn't like she was lying or anything just trying to get answers of her own.[/align:9e17a5a58c]
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Tongra would run his fingers through his hair to calm himself, slowing the rate with which his rage had turned into an almost catastrophic problem. Especially when she clarified that she spoke of Atra, which despite how she spoke of his former love, he would be utterly unaffected. Indifferent. Since no one here would have known of their love, they wouldn't notice this subtle difference in reaction. That he was moreso relieved to find out she was still alive; ignoring the topics of Malice and Atrox all together, they were not here and thus as meaningless to the subject at hand as anything else.
"What was I, to her? Hahaha." he would say, laughing aloud as he finished. "Yes, you are, indeed, nosy. I would say, but I'm curious as to this male creatures tie to her." with that, he would look upon this man with a smiling visage. Leathery skin, a snake-like appearance was nothing new to him.
He was a demon. He had seen the worst of things. He had seen the greatest of things. He had trudged across the river styx and denied an inevitable death. He fought with Choran. He was more a monster than anything and anyone here.
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As Ladislas lowered his gaze towards teh intruder, he moved allowing a clear line of sight between himself and this arrogant being, allowing that Kadasha would be completely out of his demented gaze. Toungue flickering, tasting the vibrancy of the air, heat sensors detecting the rise in rage of the creature. Words of worthless creatures, a snort erupting for even their mention in this unholy place was arrognace beyond belief and the less mention of the fools the better.
Ears detecting every nuance, as the being spoke his mothers name without any of the respect deserved and the final key to Ladilas's broke open. Deep within his body pseudo-magnetic alterations invoking sub atomic decelerations, his skin hardening to its ultimate configuration. His mother had wrought well when she gave her attention to his creation. The added stimuli of angered electrical impulse raging through veins, heating in wildfires tormented agonies, his eyes becoming an effusent glow in the temples dimness. The shimmering miasma of toxicity surrounding his body, drawing back inside through his pores, focusing in extreme concentrate.
Choosing to answer Kadasha before continuing this exquisate dance with Tongra "I had heard I had resembled one, but even he falls short of what Mother envisioned..." This would be enough for now, his rage was focused upon the one whom to Ladislas had not shown proper respect. "My Mother... Is Atra'Lamia debauched one, and you befoul her name by speaking in such tones. Indeed who do you think yourself to enter this place uninvited, speaking her name is such a manner..."
As the last hissing tones of Ladislas's speech twisted from the reptilian lips, his gaze would fall upon the form of Tongra, the full potency of what he was exposed in that elongated instant, for Ladislas had been being polite by averting his gaze whilst in this form, he was actually offering respect, but the tone in which his mother's name had been spoken, threw all such courtesy to the wind. For the basis of Ladislas's creation was the Basilisk, and the gaze of the Basilisk meant death to all, even the gods themselves.
His eyes burning with the furies of passion, the gaze itself noxious and toxic beyond any imaginations, as his vision would carress the form of Tongra, instaneous reactions would simultanelously occur upon Tongra's form. The effaciacy if his toxins exuberance, having the ability to completely sever any bond between flesh and spirit, even the bonds forged by spirit to spirit as the Gods often created. Illusions would shatter into dissolving fragments. Molecular bonds shattering, even the very elements of ones construction dissolving into individual protons and electrons. Thus was the blessing or curse his Mother had gifted upon his soul, and once the poison touched a being, no cure, no radical amputation, no hope could be found of a saviour.
Even thought and consciousness would dissolve away under the ultimate of corrosive poisons. Some would think they could mirror the gaze back upon his form, but his mother had twisted the nature of the basilisk with the taint of wamphyri and other lucious amalgams making his gaze slide straight between the atomic structures of such items and offering no protection at all. There were things that slowed his gaze, simple things, but once the gaze had touched it would be too late. A hissing twixt blackened lips "You should have spoken of my mother with respect in your tone wretch"...
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And so, all would be undone - or would it? As Ladislas's gaze would fall upon Tongra, he would soon learn that his basilisk glare would pale to the comparison of the rare catoblepas of which could create death as a symphony with it's gaze. Catoblepas, being one of the entities contained within Shawn. But this was not why the image of Tongra had yet to dissipate.
In fact, Tongra would tilt his head curiously towards the man who finally gazed upon him with nothing short of a wry grin. Ferocity encroached upon his very being, the creature being the child of Atra! As if...as if she could have a child with another! Tongra's rage would show the truth of the matter as an ebony diamond exploded from his chest, shining brightly before dripping into the ground and vanishing in plumes of shadow.
"CHILD?!" The roar would echo through the dreamscape, for all manners of creature whom recognized the existence of Tongra. Whether it was through sight, sound, hearing, tasting or touching - even a sixth sense falling unto the effects of his power. Awe.
Tongra was a misshapen mirage, a makeshift image of Shawn's own twisted imagination to draw forth the attention of everyone and pull them into the dreamscape where his control was infinite. In truth, as every entity acknowledged the existence of Tongra they would have been captured by the Awe ability.
Their only escape was physical pain, but without knowing they were already trapped within the illusion there was no way for them to inflict physical pain upon themselves. No manner of metal or merit, no manner of mental prowess could overcome the fact that all of them had fallen victim to his power.
Their real bodies would be nigh more than statues, frozen in place at the very moment they recognized Tongra's existence. They weren't literally composed of stone, still as they were only brief moments before, but they would be unmoved.
In this, Shawn would rise to his feet. Gazing upon the man-basilisk, but never staring him in the eyes. Shawn was soulless, thus he truly had nothing to fear. But to be safe, he kept precautions just the same. "Burgeus, easy boy...don't look into his eyes. This one is one of 'those' serpents. So it's best you start marking him now. Bind that nasty little power of his while he's dumb enough to contain it."
To them, Tongra would just laugh. He would stare right back at the man-serpent and laugh. His laugh was methodical and his voice was different, like that of Shawn's. He had actually fallen over laughing at the man, whose power could effect no one at this very moment. In this dreamscape, Shawn was Master of All. They couldn't die here, at least their real bodies wouldn't. This dreamscape only lasted for 24 hours as well, so they'd all be frozen in place for that duration in time.
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[align=justify:13b8edf31c]"Yes, you are, indeed, nosy. I would say, but I'm curious as to this male creatures tie to her."
This Tongra was a cocky one, she liked that. Kadasha had little values for the trivial humdrum of mindless chatter. At least by his quick responses she knew she didn't have to play the gracious hostess and bore them all with the pleasantries. Before Ladislas had informed him of his heritage, mind you which was all news to her, she shrugged "I dunno,can't say I care. But he looks awfully a lot like the wamphyri that kicked around here for a short time, pining after the mistress. Radu." Again she shrugged. Glancing around from time to time while he and the slithery one spoke. The information unleashed was delicious, so much was given in such a short time that it didn't take long for her to figure some things out. Funny enough it was like a dream, or at least dreams she could barely remember having when she was alive and thriving.
A sudden shout jolted Kadasha back to what she considered was a reality, "CHILD!!" causing her to abruptly spin on the heels of her feet "What child?" she felt a sense of jealous singing through her veins. It had always been like a competition to win the affection of the mistress, only to never please the grand goddess that could not be pleased. It was a selfless sacrifice and she had sacrificed much to be able to claim her as mistress let alone mother. Tongre's reaction gave her enough surprise to nearly jump out of her skin. By nerves alone she knew some power was at work, it flared up like angry serpents the moment the curse had been spoken of 'child'. When did this happen? She had never even heard of a legend of one born from her mistress. In fact all she knew was that she was a loveless soul with no passion. If that was so, how was a child created?
Things had spiraled out of her control and she thought it best not to even try to fight against it, rather than embrace it. Laughter filled the atmosphere, and as much as she wanted to join in with it, she thought it best to keep her trap shut and see where this was going to lead her.[/align:13b8edf31c]
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Responding to Shawn: The roar would echo through the dreamscape, for all manners of creature whom recognized the existence of Tongra. Whether it was through sight, sound, hearing, tasting or touching - even a sixth sense falling unto the effects of his power. Awe.
OOC: Since Atra 'knew' Tongra I have responded to the above. Also posted here: http://thedarkrealmz.com/forum/viewtopic.php?p=15250#15250 Atra is not in the temple but was 'drifting' in the dreamscape (near sleep) and heard the roar.
[align=justify:3bcaf25ec4]It was within this moment of silence, eyes closed as if surrendering to the darkness that swelled within her quintessence that her mind slipped to another place and time. Back to a time, a place where things were meaningless, obscure and certainly less appealing. Thinking back in time and seeing the treachery behind acclaimed honors and loyalty, none of those ingrates knew the oaths which they had spoken. Pretended heartaches and disappointments when really the only one rightfully disappointed should have been her; yet they all seemed to have taken that from her as well. It wasnât that her emotions were enveloped in the actions of these insignificant cretins, but rather that she had been so blinded by it, that she had failed to see it. In the elucidation of her mindâs eye, she saw the deeds, the unfaithful words uttered, the mendacity of love for her when it had been shared with the same words and equaled passion. None of them held any worth to her now, they were all nothing but the dust on the memory, and to the eternity of blackness they would be cast. None of them would be able to discover her here, nor would she ever respond to their calls⦠they were all nonentity; every single last one of them.
In this fact Atra finally found solace within herself, the die had been cast, but unlike them she had not been destroyed by the joke that was Darkbane. She didnât falter in her strength nor find comfort in the ego of narcissism, not one of them compared to her beauty and stature. Wish all they might, but their beauty would be a bruise in comparison to hers because it just wasnât in the visible beauty but also the beauty possessed inside; unequalled lust of death, darkness and potency. None of their curses would afflict her, nor would their promises of death and retribution for none of their words were justified with actual events, only that of falsehood. The daughter of lies thrived on dishonesty, lies would not destroy her only make her something they couldnât even possibly understand. Whatever power they thought they possessed would be nothing, nothing but a puff of smoke blown from the hot-air of punctured lung- they in turn would be cursed to know only the taste of ash and iron. Kalicity was another uneventful piece of tripe, the claims spoken by it to Malice was purely laughable and yet he still sought to bed the whore upon a blanket of maggots?
Merrily he could return to her because he too was placed in the same circlet as all the others whose words meant nothing. Nothing⦠nothing at all. Marveling in the clarity of her mind, that the only way Malice would resolve himself in the eyes of Atra was he brought her Kalicityâs head upon a platter, wide-eyed and deader to the world than what she already was. That would be the only way he would redeem himself, and since Atra knew Kalicity wouldnât show her face before him without pulling all her usual stunts of bitching, lying and nagging. Then again, did Malice have the loyalty and love for Atra that he himself declared? A lovely conundrum; a nest of sweet serpents all wanting a drop of her blood but none of them worthy enough to receive it let alone be offered it. They could all die of thirst before she would even spit upon them. Back in the darkness of Atraâs mind, she did not even ponder upon these children of perfidy⦠this darkness was her own sanctity, reflection of future torturous deeds to be done, corruptions to delve and conspire with that of man, woman or child. Whatever could possibly play the next hideous role to strike fear in the hearts of all who looked upon it.
Shifting slightly where she lay upon the obsidian satin, pale alabaster skin in perfect contrast like the moon against the midnight sky; lithe limb exposed to the shifting of light and shadow. Creeping along the smooth landscape of leg to where her attire coveted thigh to the concave of sculptured naval. Bodice moving slightly in heave, slow. Rivulets of black trickling over diminutive shoulders to where her hand rested against temple while lips curved pensively to the satisfaction of the void, every nightmare dreamt by mortal mind. She was there; she had always been there in the mind of every human⦠the essence of lust, hatred and darkness. What man feared she imbibed, what pain that was felt she would soak into her skin as if bathed in the blood of virgins. Had it not been for this shift in her subconscious that deliberately locked out anything from all world except for the one she had created; she probably would not have heard the name. The intonation of anger bellowed from the lips of Tongra. She couldnât be sure of the voice but the energy was in dubiously his⦠Instantly rising up from her induced state of elation, nigrescent eyes narrowing âWhat is this, surely by senses betray me. Who would dare find pretence in returning old ghosts using HIS voice and presence? Who would dare?â
A voice colder than ice, frozen as phantasmagoric shadows rose high around her svelte form- repugnant servants striking and hissing like serpents. Chin rising with that famous notorious haughty fashion well acclaimed for; her eyes demonic slithers beaming heinously from behind lustrous lashes, a malevolence so unspeakable. A gaze intractably abysmal; void as if her soul was nothing but the horrors from her interior trying to claw their way out⦠the Dimmu. There was no way to steady her essence from this outrage, but rather embrace it and locate the source of this profanity. Whoever was responsible for this intrusion, they would pay⦠with their very lives.[/align:3bcaf25ec4]
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Flame and fury boiling within Ladislas's blood as his rage pitched even higher. The essence of his being seemingly having no effect on this creature, sending his mind into quivering spasm. Fury mounting having an effect on the physical aspects, for whether bound under illusion or dream, his body would react to his anger. Heartbeat accelerating, heat within his reptilian physique rising, ichor boiling to the temperature of lava within the incredibly dense shell of skin clothing his form. Eyes telling him one story, in which his toxins had no effect, anger having the knock on effect of overstimulating every sense to beserkergang fulmination.
Just as those who dreamed of fire often awoke to flame, Ladislas's reaction flowed on into physical reaction, blood reaching isothermal levels where he himself was threatened. Heat unable to escape from within the layers of incredibly dense armoring skin in which he was ensheathed. Basilisk toxicity encapsulated within being driven to immense pressures as his own fluids began to boil with no outlets, steam rising from his nostrils, smoke beginning to form in venomous opacity from the eye sockets mercuric vision.
Ladislas had no idea of what was really occurring, but his physical body was literally about to go up in an expansion of the most poisonous flame ever to be expanded. If this continued, his physical shell would likely explode, the results not pleasant for any creature within a very large radius of where he stood. God or man, illusion or spirit, it mattered not for his death would release the essential miasma of which he was formulated and nothing withstood that.
The anger in his nemesis's voice to the words he was Atra's son, heightening every aspect of what burned within, for the anger portrayed in the roaring of the word 'child' would push Ladislas beyond all mortal ken into a zone of silent oblivion. Physical body motionless what little senses remaining viable within the inferno of poisonous passion knowing that something was wrong, knowing that Kadasha had spoken yet unable locked in the stasis of fiery maelstrom to respond in any fashion. His physical form teetering on the edge of true death as with the final shuddering release, his physique burst into intense and devouring agonies.
Pain was the key, and pain was something Atra'Lamia bound her creations with in plentiful amounts. Deep within his mind a long drawn out scream of "MOTHERRRRRRRRRR" would echo silently before the zenith of inspired would touch and then... Before his eyes, the vision at whom his gaze had been directed would shimmer and vanish, a man a spike a creature appearing within the perversity of his gaze. Ladislas noticing Kadasha appearing frozen in one place like a statue, by the vibrancy or atmosphere upon his tongue, then focusing all his gaze whilst drawing deeply the steaming putrid air, so filled with toxicity into the depths of his lung. Molecules exciting as they hit the lava temperatures within his form, the tumultuous pressures within magnifying, then serpentine lips pursing, he blew, his breath a finely controlled fog of diablerie spraying directly to the man and his creature that moments before had not seemed to exist. Every vaporous particle carrying the death of a god, able to rend any creature to oblivions margins. The man may find a means of avoidance, but at the very least, his pet would dissolve in the putrid flames of retribution...
OOC - Just as there are those who dream of flame and awaken surrounded by fire, the fact Ladislas invoked his poisons and nothing happened enraged him, which as happens, transfigured into his physical body invoking a horrendous response, thus taking him to a point of pain. From what I understood of your post Shawn and his creature were actually there in the physical, hence now Ladislas can see him, the obsidian spike and his creature. Although there are ways for Shawn himself to avoid, I very much doubt his pet will survive. I look forwards to seeing what amazement you post now.
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Not gonna lie, the fact Ladislas would manage physical pain somehow perturbs me. But that's okay, because I have physical action that I had yet to take which leaves me plenty of time to react IC without having to worry about Burgeus. Burgeus, however, constricted itself into Shawn's shadow and would thusly be unaffected by anything earthly. Shawn may have spoke to it, but it exists only as part of Shawn's shadow. --- Two parts of this post will be made, as well. One for Ladislas specifically, the other for Kadasha and anyone else caught in Awe
Shawn was free as the woman stood in Awe of his presence, but the moment Tongra was enraged at Ladislas being the child of Atra, Shawn would find himself in righteous fury.
Emblazened with hate akin to the deepest reaches of the Sun, fist would clasp to the obsidian spike as the runic markings lit like wildfire with a crimson red. It was imbued with the power of The Ancient. Earlier, during Shawn's arrival, The Ancient disappeared but in fact, went underground to accumulate materials this entire time. Meaning it even siphoned power from the temple itself as well as using the temples construct, metamorphosing it into it's similar corporeal existence. Meaning that in fact, The Ancient would probably be the size of the temple, now.
However, this sliver of The Ancient had been granted several unique properties. One, being the fact the very tip became enveloped in a mystical effect. It could flow freely through energy, but could not break or sever molecular or atomic bonds. However, it did slice through the free-flowing energy that went between matter itself. Meaning the tip of this spike could penetrate clean through whatever it was sent through, no matter how dense it was.
The other property was that of assimilation. Noting that the mans body temperature began to rise, it was apparent that heat had begun to generate. This other ability would focus more into the core of this sliver, so that whatever would have been released from his adversary would instead be assimilated into the weapon to increase it's power. To increase the weapons threshold of absorption, so it may constantly contain whatever expenditures this creature may have had. Beit fire, toxin, venom, magic or otherwise.
That being said, Shawn moved behind Ladislas and did the first thing that came to his mind, before Ladislas could awaken. He would drive the spike through the base of Ladislas' skull, which would most assuredly awaken him before the heat could. From there, Shawn would have made sure the spike was a decent way through his maw before hoisting his body upwards at an angle, then slamming him face first into the center of the glyph.
There was no feasible way for Ladislas to dodge. The action was taken the moment before he awoke and done with equal swiftness. Any toxins, chemicals, fires, energy, etc. exerted would have been assimilated by The Ancient. Ladislas's hardened flesh was still physical - tangible. It was still composed of atoms and molecules no matter how condensed it may have been. However, energy flows freely between atoms and molecules. Meaning that The Ancient had the raw, destructive power to rend his flesh apart like a hot knife through butter.
Shawn would also move to firmly implant the heel of his boot into the small of Ladislas's back, twisting and grinding The Ancient in his hands, should Ladislas not have had a way around being impaled in the first place.
More perfectly, should Ladislas have not been able to dodge, the spike would keep him from any hope of escape and the glyph would make sure he lived forever. But no, Shawn was not done yet. If Ladislas didn't dodge the spike and was, indeed, implanted into the ground, five more spikes would fire upwards with similar attributes and penetrate through his biceps, thighs and stomach.
This was all provided Ladislas could dodge before he would have awoken, and provided his reaction time excelled beyond milliseconds after the initial impalement. He would(as logically deduced) be somewhat disoriented from Awe akin to being dizzied; something similar to vertigo, or the verge of unconsciousness.
Nothing, no words could begin to describe the fury and hatred within Shawn's eyes at this time. The ferocity to which he would attempt to assail Ladislas. To the point where Shawn focused all his concentration to his speed and strength alone, making the movements all the more swift and all the more violent. Golden-hazel eyes would possess Eyeshine, glimmering fervently as wildfire. Teeth would grind and face would contort into pure malcontent, a hatred for this vile creature's existence beyond anything one could imagine.
"GARBAGE! THAT'S WHAT YOU ARE, YOU PIECE OF SHIT! PURE GARBAGE!"
This is all assuming Ladislas cannot somehow dodge or escape the maneuver. I don't see how he would, however, as I intentionally didn't give enough time to do so. Between my two posts and that for Ladislas, no time was given as to precisely how long it would take for Ladislas to reach a pain threshold for his body to awaken, as everyone's pain threshold varies. So I used an appropriate length of time, since my character only needed seconds to grab the spike and strike with it. I hinted towards it's new composition when I said the runes had appeared on it, the color red indicated it's activation.
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Kadasha would notice Ladislas disappear completely, from this dreamscape and Tongra would begin to relax. Composing himself, he would brush his hands through his hair and close his eyes. He needed to rethink what he was going to do here, and it would only take a moment. So within a few seconds, Tongra would turn to Kadasha before she could speak.
"Shhhh-sh-sh-sh-sh. Hush. Do not worry about that creature. It is meaningless and has been dealt with. You see, my powers are akin to a God's. My voice alone can destroy creatures that would need a millenia to build, much less that insufferable creation that may have only taken seconds. Please...be my guest and sit with me for a while? Hear more of my story?"
Tongra would find a place to sit and sit comfortably, patting the seat next to him. She might have been very afraid of him now, perhaps even more curious as to what was going on. But he would speak with her, console her and treat her well. Even in a dream, Shawn was not the type to inflict much pain on women. Only those who thought themselves stronger than they were. Arrogance was never one of his favorite traits.
Tongra would look at her with almost puppy-like eyes, attempting to lure her close enough. He would make these twenty-four hours delightful, at the very least. Pleasant for the woman. Or perhaps he would awaken her after he left, where she would soon find either a corpse or a tortured creature laying eternally, ravished by pain.
-
Sitting, brooding within the deepness of his Perception, Shawn would realize only that he had awoken just now from a meditative slumber. A dream. Perhaps an influence from being in Atra's realm. The events with Ladislas had never truly happened - but why, then, would this specific entity appear within his dream? Coincidence, most likely. Shawn was empathic and this was Atra's realm, it's very possible Shawn simply dreamed all that happening.
That being said, Shawn moved towards the center of the room with Burgeus at his heels. He knew that, in some way, he must find Tongra's heart before someone stumbled across it. It was power unimaginable, a power no one had the right to wield but Tongra's creator. One he would be sure was found and kept well within secret, so no one would ever be the monster that Tongra was.
In a flash of brilliance, there he knelt. Alive, so to speak, in the dreamscape. Tongra knelt in agony, vitae pouring from a missing right arm, missing left horn, and a large hole in his chest, where his heart should have been. Shawn watched as the blood poured into the glyph and it's intent had awoken, that of preserving life at the cost of it's energy.
Tongra had strange black markings all over his body, when summoned. It was the second ritual Shawn would use, one that bound Tongra's powers within himself so there would be no chance of escape or retaliation.
"Where is it?" he'd offer.
...
"Must I ask again, young one? Where is it?" his voice becoming more firm.
Then it came, like the sweetest caress of passion, a lust unbridled and a love unmatched. "With her."
CRACK! was the sound of a crimson gauntlet, backhanding Tongra across the mouth. Blood spattered and teeth flew, jaw hanging agape like he could no longer hold it closed. Broken, most likely.
"A love tap, Tongra Daemius Bloodbourne. I will get it, rest assured, I will. And I will finally be rid of you and...her--"
"Yuh canno'...cau' we ah one..."
His speech now less eloquent, barely understandable. Blood poured from his mouth as it did his body, his eyes heavy and body impossibly hard to keep up. He fought with Death once more and again, it was a losing battle.
"I know what I am! I know who I am! You are just a little part of me, the last part, and I will just as soon be rid of you as I will her once your heart is dealt with. For even now, we are with her."
The smile that crossed his lips with those last four words was vile, wretched and full of glee. Tongra's expression was priceless. Wide-eyed. Frozen. As if even now, her eyes were upon him as nothing more than a weakling. He tried so desperately to stand, to fight, but slipped on his own blood and fell pathetically to the ground.
"Hahaha! I knew I kept you around for a reason!" he would say, lifting Tongra up by the neck with such ease. Tongra stood taller than he, but Shawn could easily throw his body around like a rag doll. Such was the difference in raw power. Shawn would then grab at his leg, lift him overhead and slam his midsection through the spike until he hit the ground.
Thorns. Thorns protruded from the spike as it split in four, stabbing down through his biceps and thighs. It was then that it happened, the most wondrous of events coupled with the most terrifying scream of agony one had ever heard from a demon before. From a man. The sound of his heart being torn from his chest. The sound of indescribable pain and suffering echoed violently throughout this makeshift world.
And there it was, hovering above the crook of the spike like a flower blooming in the presence of sacrifice. And Shawn would reach for it.
[hr:47f7ff527f]
Backlash. Ebony flames roared into corporeal existence, threatening to swallow Shawn whole as it began to envelope his form!
"Smart enough to defend it, eh? Perhaps you weren't prepared for this!"
As it de-atomized Shawn's atomic structure, consuming both mystical energy and matter that constructed his form, something disturbing happened before Tongra's very eyes. The gaping void that existed beneath the armor and his flesh sucked in the flames...in fact, it sucked in what can only be described as the darkest black from the gigantic black emerald of Tongra's heart.
The power.
Shawn, then, began his process of regeneration. Absorbing matter from the surrounding area and reconstructing his lost appendage. Within moments, everything was at it had previously been. Except now, Shawn had the power of Hell's Shadow. Tongra's most powerful asset and all he had left, other than the jewel of his heart.
"I'll take that, now." he would say, stealing it from above Tongra.
"No need for you anymore...disappear." and with that, Tongra was gone...all that was left was his heart, still in Shawn's hand. And poor Kadasha, lost within Shawn's Awe ability would never know of these events. Still seeing Tongra waiting, coaxing her to his side.
-
Unaware of the events surrounding her, the serpent one fading away as if he had never been there, an apparition caused Kadasha to blink. Her attention returned to the one named Tongra the second he began to speak, quietening her into conversation. It wasnât like she had anything better to do, why not enjoy the moment? Kadasha was not a gifted one in magic or illusion, there was nothing that she understood or had learned to help her explain what was going on. She had never experienced the Dreamscape before, let alone knowing she was dreaming and the real events happening outside of this illusion had it that Tongra existed in the space outside no more. That Shawn had just about reached his goal? To her, he was sitting before her speaking in that luring tone. Once on the defensive Kadasha found herself falling into a sense of security, comfort and assurance bringing her to also sit before him.
Kadashaâs tone wasnât soft or fully convinced, she spoke with the same tone as before just a little less aggressive. âI am not worried about the creature of the serpents. It is just strange to have activity within these unholy walls.â Shifting from her seat, elbows resting on her knees as chin rested in the palm of her hands âSo tell me this story of yours.â There was no other way to ask than to come straight out with the words, she wasnât one to charm with fancy words, double talk and rant. Straight to the point without the hassle of uncomfortable positions, waiting to break the ice. From what she could tell of this man, he wasnât one to dally around either, she appreciated that just a little but by no means did she trust him.
So here she was, listening for this story that maybe could answer some of the curious questions niggling at her insides.
-
Tongra would sit quietly, soundly, and recant the stories of his life for her. He would start from his youth, a child of a Demon Goddess and an Ancient Vampire, a pureblood. He would speak of his siblings varying from one to the next, including his oft-despised brother Nomak. He would speak to her of how his mother's death was by his own hands at a tender age of only a thousand or so, still in youth and but a mere child when his father and siblings all went separate ways. How Nomak was the true cause of it all.
He would then go on with intimate detail of his transgression through realms and growth, becoming stronger and becoming the full embodiment of Lust that he had claimed to be. Making note of several loves across realms, but stopping when he came to his final realm. Then, he would speak further.
"Within this realm of A.eynee, I met a beautiful woman amidst the throes of darkness. Atra, as you would refer to her, much to the same degree I had. Our love held no bounds and intimacy, of which I was the only man to truly claim that which he called his own. But alas...in all my long years, I had always lost that which was greatest to me."
It seemed, now, though his lust-filled voice was as sensuous as can be, the sorrow pouring from his lips weighed like the heaviest of burdens upon his conscious. He would now reveal the truth of this game, how he was able to return to this temple.
"I was reclaimed, I suppose you could say. My world was darkest upon the day I was born, but upon this day it was the blackest of black. My creator, the one who wrote my story, came to claim my heart, body and soul. My heart was hidden here, within this temple, so it may be summoned and taken by Atra herself. Including the power I had once possessed. It was only a short while after that did he come, when I was escaping from these lands to grow in strength. He beat me mercilessly, tearing off limbs and ripping my chest open."
The wounds he suffered would begin to show as his arm became faint, almost completely disappearing. The gaping wound on his chest where his heart would be situated came into vision, as well as the decimated facial features and broken bones. Battered and bruised, he now sat as practically a living corpse - though, he was not really alive anymore anyways.
"He did not find that which he sought, so he took my very being back into himself. Truth was, I was his creation, not just birthed within unholy matrimony. I was his lust given personification and life, and in taking me in I have once again become a part of him. I'm sorry, but the truth is, he is gone from the temple with my heart and seeks now to destroy my last ties to this world. I don't know why he has yet not, but I'm sure it will come soon."
And with that, the illusion would fade and she may very well find herself in her standing position where she would have first noticed Shawn. In the mean time, Shawn had ultimately left the temple and began pursuing greater things upon the path of his exit; the exact path of his entrance. There was blood on the floor where Tongra once lay, pooled and soaking everywhere. The runic marking on the floor glistened and vanished, and all that was left of Shawn or Tongra was the sign of the dark power still echoing through the halls.
-
Kadasha listened to the story Tongra was telling her, even though she knew nothing of Atraâs history with him and had never heard of her speak of him. Then again Atra never really spoke to anyone, not that she could remember. The woman of dark desires was a mystery to her so listening to this history brought a new light upon the lady of darkness, a lady she could not help but admire. She felt almost uncomfortable at hearing intimate details about their relationship or how they had felt about the other because she really had never experienced love or a love that she would so happily die for.
Squirming in her seat in attempt to get comfortable, to listen deeper and hear any hidden meaning in his words while being drawn into his charm and sexual attractions. She did feel oddly attracted to Tongra, a magnet being pulled to a greater source of power, one that she could not fathom let alone understand. She wasnât sure if she detected sadness in his voice or even if she was being played the fool because right at that moment, she didnât care. Leaning in closer, wanting to hear every single word and not miss a detail not even a simple one. Sensuous words pouring from his lips, lips that any female would crave to touch and find hard to resist.
Her own voice matching the sensual tones, offering a type of sympathy in her returned words. âThen why donât you call to her and tell her yourself?â blinking once or twice in adaptation to the various shifts of light reflecting off the temple walls. âYou would have better success than me, she does not come to me and from what I know she does not answer anyone.â It had been a concern that Atra had faded from existence, back to the darkness that she had been born from. But she continued to listen, taking note of the mention of Ayenee and that he had been reclaimed by his creator leaving his heart for Atra to collect but never did. She could not help but wonder why so chose to ask him instead.
âIf you left your heart here, then why did she not come to claim it?â If they had been close lovers why did she leave him in his darkest moment? Then again it did seem to be an Atra thing to do, at least from stories heard and told by other disgruntled Darkbaneâs. âShe left the clan, never even looked back or offered any of us if we wanted to leave with her. She just left us here to die.â Her words were strong with emotion behind them, emotion Kadasha was not used to showing but for some reason found it easy to show him this weak side of her. She had plenty more to show, she was no warrior and no fighter, didnât even try to hide it.
âLast I heard she followed some dark thing into the void and only returned to kill those of us that were left. I lost my sister Bloodashiya to her gauntlet.â No bitter spiteful words were said, she held nothing but respect for Atra even if most of the things she did left other in pain. To her it was her curse to remain here and be taunted by Atraâs past. She could not even begin to see the full situation as Tongra appeared to be losing limbs and falling to pieces before her eyes. Eyes widening as she jumped to her feet not understanding what was happening or the magic being used. It must be magic, what other power could trick her this way? Wounds and gashes appearing, battered, bruised. âWhy do you show me these horrors? Taunting me!â
Kadashaâs voice raised she did not want to see this, see the pain in her own losses. The way her sister had been torn apart, this reminded her of that day. Words that followed the breaking of the vision made no sense to her, it was beyond her mental understanding. Magic was a fear her kind had, it was only natural to fear what she did not understand. Tongra completely fading leaving her to wake from the dream, the nightmare. Looking around frantically, unbelieving what she had already seen. Feet racing across the heart of the temple towards the exit, yelling out âWHO ARE YOU??â nearly tripping in the rubble where the temple only partially stood.
The snake thing gone, everything gone but her.