IC: A Past In Flames

[The End of All Light.]

[align=justify:aea8ba348c]It would only be a matter of days from the march from Saqqara to the front quarters of Eden’s edge. The numerous numbers of her legions had already gathered on the outskirts waiting for their beloved Queen. The horizon darkened, black legions smothering the alps in a banner of midnight, Goetic banners depicting war raised high in defiance for the thrives who dared claim Eden as their seat of power. They would have had no time to prepare since their guards were limited in experience, and seemed to pay more particular attentions to drinking themselves drunk than the protection of their ‘mighty’ city. It should have been expected that here a fight wouldn’t be found for when the challenge had been set, those so brave in their merits fleeted like the scampering rodents they were plaguing the filth of sewers of their own creation. Endearing really that their self-declared Queen had abandoned them in their need… just like before, though this time it would be her last. Using the mindset implanting into the minds of her most virulent warriors, to know her thoughts and commands without having to see them bled over those seductive lips. Why speak what they already knew? The commands had been set and there was no intent on wavering them now in the throes of pity; when really none was there to be found.

At the first wave of crushing might, the walls of the constructed city, erected in the name of Kalicity was to be torn down brick by miserable brick. Her vision of Eden had somewhat been corrupted by her own vanity and false claims to power… a charlatan in a suit made from gilded trash; a whore in cheap facades that were no better than the slaves Atra had worship at her feet. For that was all Kalicity was… a slave, and how she had danced to the piper’s tune every time one of those strings had been pulled. One who claimed greatness, had begged at Atra’s feet for any miserable position that Atra deemed fit to give and in pity gave her the title ‘Commander’ just to cease the sniveling dog from boring her further with pathetic whimpers. And for a time it had worked until she attempted to steal Atra’s kingdom rightfully won, then claim it as a misunderstanding. Yes! A misunderstanding on her behalf that Atra would indeed allow Kalicity’s worthless presence to taint what she had won by merit… not by declaring it was her right given to her by Atra’Lamia- when that was a lie.

To the clumsy degenerate, she was an easy problem to be rid of, after all by her own submission she had given a vial of her own blood to Atra’Lamia in a small black vial for safe keeping, or good faith. Whatever the case, was… it sure would be used for the right purposes and with the most effective result. Didn’t her superiors ever tell the silly little twit never to give her blood to one whose magickal prowess and knowledge far exceeded any others in the realm of Ayenee, Eden and Tenaria? Atra’Lamia held influence over those three realms, and their hiding behind shadows wasn’t going to delay their woe-betiding, nor would anyone bother to listen to their deaf screams staining the darkness with radiant symphony. The city walls of Eden burned, a brilliant display coloring the night in hues of scorching tangerine and reds the hues of blood. The orders had been strict… no survivors, it was an effortless charge to give, instruct the many hordes and legions to do what they did best and effectively to that best… to kill.  There would be no escape, no mercy and no penance.

Of course Kalicity would jump to defend her city and title? She would be nowhere to be found, but all she loved would be all the provocation needed to make her surface and face the karma she deservedly brought upon herself. In one single night the reign of her authority would find its end and the rightful Queen placed back on the throne of Eden… however, this time… there would be no throne, and Eden would become the City of Damnation- the liberty of all that was unlawful and chaotic, not the weak garden of ignominy and indignity that it had become while in the hands of that wretched leech and her inferior larvae called ‘her’ children. Here her end would be met and the thirst for that end finally sated.  With the City of Eden in flames, its people screaming for a quick and painless death, only to be made to suffer. It was this prolonged sufferance that gave Atra’Lamia what she sought, what she craved… vengeance.

Vengeance for the end to this pitiful wretch’s false claims and duplicitous two-faced nature; Kalicity had been everything but loyal and a credit to the name of Darkbane. Unlike what she claimed and what those around her and suffered her presence actually witnessed… in comparison to the fools who actually believed her. To blind by the immature levels of her manipulation, corruption and guilt trips. There had been one occasion where Kalicity had actually offered herself to an opponent instead of facing his blade only to be turned down, where then she proceeded to run into the arms of the next idiotic male willing to take her up on the cheap trophy, a hacked out cunt infertile to produce any worthy being, only more useless spawn to slaughter. And slaughtered they were. Every thing Kalicity claimed to love was destroyed… that was her punishment for the claims of killing Atra’s only child, when Atra’s creation- her son was more than alive and thriving. That Kalicity had cut of his head when in fact she did nothing of the sort and instead found the need to make pretenses to… make her look formidable when all it did was make her even more of a joke.

With Eden now in scorched ruin it didn’t take Atra’s war beasts long to locate Kalicity’s hidden children behind one of the secret doors to where passages snaked throughout the castle. Did they forget that this was once Atra’s castle and she knew it like she knew the back of her hand? How quickly one forgets when thinking they were irreplaceable and not the disposable pawns they truly were. Kalicity had always glorified her own worth and importance, a small non-effective being with what they call tall-man syndrome; a nothing tying to be something… a no one trying to be someone. The burning flesh of her children would eventually force Kalicity to be sniffed out and forced to watch the death of her own children while sacred mithril pikes were driven through the ankles of her feet. Then brutally heaved up to suspend upside down. A woman never looks more beautiful than when screaming, and scream Kalicity did.

Her children endured long, painful demises… gutted and skinned alive as the pelts were thrown to the war beasts while they defecated and defiled the writhing bodies as they slowly were sent to the darkness of the void where their souls would be devoured by the ‘Ancient Ones’ awaiting the treats to be thrown from the banquet table of the Gods. Nothing was more prized than the offspring of Gods, they offered nourishment only Gods understood and eagerly waited upon. Her embraced bitch of a daughter would be next to have her fate sealed in the blood she had given as dark priests chanted her name over smoke and black candles in a tight weave of commanding spells. She would have no choice but to come and before Kalicity offer herself as a sacrifice to the one and only Black Goddess… Atra’Lamia. By the power of her own blood the ritual was unbreakable, not even any gifted in the dark arts were fit enough to intervene, or even those in the more futile hazards of ritual in accordance to the light… the light no longer existed here in Eden.

Raped for seven consecutive nights while Kalicity screamed and begged for it to stop, that she would do anything to save her children… but begging was never enough and no matter how loud her screams were… they were not loud enough. To savagely be forced to watch while innocent holes were ransacked like virginal temples. Deep caverns pillaged over and over again, every possible orifice plundered and torn by sword hilt and mace while a gauntlet fist with razor-weapon fingers dug to expose her inner demons. Daggers digging as they viciously sought the waters of ruptured hymens and the quivering mass of pulverized slashes disfiguring female organs to the verge of disembowelment. Mungen the tastiest of all necrophiled delights… to have one push on the gut while the other ate whatever came out of the rotting chasm. Kalicity would know what it was to lose everything and not be able to do a damn thing about it, powerless… but then again… she always had been powerless and subsidiary.

For days yet beyond the charred remains of the living… twisted in wicked contortions of pain and torment, the same would be said for the drained effigy suspended by the ankle now black with bruising and infection. It was interesting how many flesh-eating bacteria’s hung around diseased and the undead; especially vampires. It was only right to bleed her dry with incisions made every few days until her blood ran out of all its potency to maintain her existence. Slashes against her back, buttocks and breasts, anally raped by sharp instruments- war beasts had such vivid sadistic imaginations when it came to what they should do with a woman… or in Kalicity’s case, beasts. Atra sat there on her throne of black satisfaction whilst watching the dismay and pleading reflections in those begging dark eyes. Split and pus-oozing lips muttering words of mercy only to be ignored as the onslaught continued. There was nothing Kalicity had to say that Atra wanted to hear… it was all… trivial to the desired outcome. Death.

As they say, many hands make light work and during the entire time Atra was busy playing with her new play thing, the necromantic legions were rebuilding the city into the visionary of horror is was supposed to be. Not this imposter version of perverse joy? They worked day and night, without ceasing for fear of Atra’s displeasure. Every hour on the hour she received word of the progress, gloating and pleased at the results and how quickly it was being constructed and soon ready for the monarch of Eden to take her place as destined by both her mother and father, not some bastard vampire who had once been a human pin-cushion; an impure vampire… one that was meant to have been butchered, nothing more than a sexually transmitted disease. Blight on the surface of the true bloods that seeped the destruction of mankind, not nurture it in infantile whims of acceptance and penance for deeds done wrong when it was herself who professed to make them… then blame others for her own failures. Indeed, Kalicity was the walking definition of a coward.

Atra did not bother to witness Kalicity’s head being removed from her shoulders; it was a death that would receive no honor from her eyes, only when she watched the body being offered to the starving beggars below the walls of Eden beseeching nourishment. Beggars are not picky; they grabbed and fought over the remains like packs of wild animals- growling throatily in gurgles of joyous contentment at their burning bellies being filled. Bodies being thrown from the ramparts to the wolves below… humans under control always made the most treacherous allies for when ones belly was content, they always sung like canaries: and any other of the faithful to Kalicity caught in the gates of Eden were massacred much the same, by being thrown from the bulwarks. Ropes tied to their feet so their bodies made a sickening crunch as they collided with the side of the newly erected obsidian structure leaving thick, congealed explosions of crimson decorating the sleekness of black. Nocturne gratification echoing in Atra’s cold, uncaring eyes… tombante shimmers dancing on the surface of blasé unaffected lanterns.

Cassis rivulets streaming over squared shoulders as she sat back relishing in all that had been accomplished, and by her own merits not the dealings of any other… just herself, the way she liked it. The fall of Thibor the Cruel had been sweet by her hands, but there was something so deep in this new awakening of accomplishment that just made every other seem so unimportant. For now, Atra had ignored the words spoken by Pandora back in the temple all those weeks ago… they meant nothing, just like the name of Darkbane… meant nothing. She had heard it all, seen it all and done it all before more times over than Pandora ever would in her small world of miniscule glories. What had Pandora ever done to warrant the affections and veneration given to her? Atra, if anyone actually took time and intelligence to sit back and actually think on that topic; they would be not so surprised to find nothing of respect there at all- only contempt. It had not been Pandora that made Darkbane great; it had been those who served her wills… great men and women who had gone unrewarded for their services- only to receive double talk and hypocritical promises.

”May you rot in the sniveling husk you inhibit, Pandora. I kill your children because I can, and they are of no importance to me, just a means to your end. You run out of time, and I have all the time in the world.” Whispering it to her own devices while a black crystal ball danced over the knuckles of her right hand, artistically moving from one to the other in perfected balance as eyes studied the images emerging from its murky center. ”Ah, the Talusthrones… tisk… you should never speak of the devil, for her horns just may appear!” It had not gone totally ignored all the mentions of her name, speak it thrice she may materialize from the darkest nightmares of their most tormented slumber. She listened to them speak of some ball and act in the usual insane manner she had always known them to… wondering what had happened to DarkQuest their leader, had he suffered a death from his own dementia? That certainly would have been amusing to watch, what a pity she had missed it. There would always be another time to witness more whilst in theatrical applause and encore.

Now having her seat of power back in the realm of mortals, the Queen of Eden- surely it would be easier to obtain an invitation of sorts, not that Atra required one, instead take the initiative and carve one out of the tongue of the messenger. Atra always took pride in being original and creative in her dealings with the mortal public, despite having no care for them… they did have their humble uses and abuses like swinging screaming chandeliers, lamps and other pieces of useful furniture. Surely Satire would have some uses for readily available for whatever strange agonies she wanted to inflict, the vats would have an endless supply of blood and energy in order to create new and horrific creations to infuse the potencies of her ever-growing armies. An endless supply of amusements to amuse herself with while planning out her next cunning and canny step in her ultimate plan, the way Atra saw it, the more reserves she had the less likely Pandora would grow in strength. If she wanted energies she would have to find them herself and only prove to those who followed Pandora that she was weak and unable to sustain herself. It was already happening, all Atra had to do was sit back and enjoy the recitation.

Any of Atra’s blood would finally know where to seek… they would be lead home, to their places in the history of Eden, returned to their devices and rightful status beneath the shadows of Eden. [/align:aea8ba348c]

This has only been written for story purposes only, having in due effect of the history of my characters version of Eden. Deciding to take back my ideals and bring it effectively back into role-play with all the original characters and storylines. If you have any problems with anything posted here, it really is too bad because I will not be changing it. Disrespects shown towards myself and Atra are being repaid in full. As far as I am concerned Kalicity and anyone, anything to do with her have perished with her. Too bad, so sad! I am over it... -plays an invisible violin-