...Through the Valley in the Shadow of Death...

[Pravus]

The smell of rancid meat and iron hang in the mountain air like fog on a windless night.  A table, his table, prisoner to the starry sky above.  Underneath it are carefully placed rows of clay jars collecting drops of ooze and gore from the table top.  It is this mixture that Pravus uses with a brush to mark the gathered limbs above with arcane symbols while he chants.  Tonight this collection of stench, rot, and stitches will be called to life to follow the twisted will of a diseased imagination.

No gentle forest sounds can be heard, almost as if the woodland creatures crept away in the darkness, too afraid of the red-cloaked man to make a sound.  There is a solemn look of content on his face as his long fingers carefully craft bloody sigils on the meat of his victim.  This thing did not exist before, but he is creating it now, an artistic blend of horror and abomination.  Many are the dead that serve him, for though they move and react to environment and command, they are still dead flesh.  As he creates more abominations, they gather more flesh and soon, there will be hordes of them.

As his grotesque champion takes it's first breath, a mockery of that of a newborn, Pravus addresses his host of dessicated servants.  "Beyond the forest is a village.  Bring me it's people!  Men, women, children, let no life see the next morning.  I want their flesh!" he screams with wide eyes and bits of saliva chasing the words from his mouth.

Taking axes, pikes, and swords from a nearby pile, the group of shambling decay and mismatched appendages trod wordlessly to the village.

'The moment is almost right,' his thoughts run wild as his excitement nears a frenzy of delirium.  'My creations will overwhelm the village and I'll own them all.  Oh, arms and legs, eyes and ears, fingers and teeth... great will be my supply of meat and bone.  Their minds reacting to visceral function and their will my own.  Such is the future of the little town in the valley that lays in the shadow of the mountain.  

'Yes, grow my parts for me.  The harvest will come and end your useless toiling.  I'll give you purpose, but as something quite different than how you see yourselves now.  My artistry of flesh will make you anew.'

[align=center][/align]

[Pravus]

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The assembly of decay are not quiet when they enter the village, neither are they slow.  The marauders soon begin to light buildings on fire and hack down the innocents that flee.  Chaos reigns as screams echo through the valley.  First screams of frantic terror, then of agony.

As time passes the beasts that were once men and women show their true colors.  A woman too scared to yell holds her young child to her chest while a large unearthly abomination violates her.  The child in her arms is quiet, mesmerized by the sight of another odious monster breaking an arm free from her father's fresh corpse; its bone cracking within the socket as it is turned is clearly heard and the stretching of the tendons and skin give way to a sloppy wet noise that follows.  A little further down the main roadway, a dead woman tries to cut the face free from a live one so that she may cover her own rotted visage with something fresh.  The knife blade scratches against her skull and incites a high pitched but short-lived scream with each slow scrape.

They will need to be done by dawn, as their master ordered, and dusk was not far away.  It will be a long night, to be sure.  There's plenty of time for Pravus to rest amid the distant sounds of his chaos being unleashed.  "I'll start with a glass of wine to accompany the screams while they are still loud and fresh," he tells a servant.  "When the echoes turn to barely audible groans I'll have a bath and then retire.  Please tell the captains I'll be there to survey in the morning."

[Pravus]

The naked abomination working so diligently looks like a puzzle where pieces that do not match have been forced together anyway.  The puzzle pieces having been substituted for human appendages that meet an emaciated carcass on long legs.  An even breathing washes in and out over bright white teeth in a mouth with no lips, which gave the impression of a tremendously broad smile.  Its eyes, very round in sockets without lids, wander over the lifeless meat that it's fingers attach together with lightning quickness.  It grumbled in a sloppy wet voice that boils with mucus and left flecks of blood on its chin as it sewed.

"Singing while you work?" asked Pravus, his mood elevated due to the simplicity of their night.

As the dying fires from remnants of homes pumped dark smoke into a cloudy gray sky, the horrors from the dark night spent the day under the watchful eyes of their creator.  Each severed limb was sewed, soldered, or nailed from one carcass to another at Pravus' instruction.  Soon, gentle wind-swept fields would be filled with even rows of mismatched corpses waiting to live again.

As evening began to settle upon the town, after the salvaged bodies had been reorganized and rearranged, Pravus would let the servants rest.  'Tonight we'll dream of a perfect world, a world that we recreate.  Tomorrow, here in the places of these bodies passing, we'll compose a solemn requiem from dark chants and ancient symbols.  The blood of the slaughter will be reintroduced to the dead from the tip of a brush and they will come back to us hearing the joyous sounds of incantation.  

"Make sure there are no hiding survivors then post watchmen here," he addressed one of the walking dead, an intentionally frightening monstrosity wearing bits of armor.  "Tonight we rest and slumber and then prepare for rites tomorrow."

[Divine Dimise]

Enter the survivor.
An army, masses of darkness pillaged through her town that night, and she was caught in a manifesto of memories she would not soon forget. She was no older than twenty years of age, still a young face, but her soul permeated the air with it's age. The horrors that she saw, all who tried, all who failed, and mostly the ravenous hunger each of these creatures had for human flesh. She had managed to evade said creatures for this long, but how much longer would she be able to keep up this stamina she had to use against them? While the thoughts ran past her mind, the events of the night, she worked carefully to make her breathing untraceable, though her lungs needed room, she would not give it. Her legs needed to move, but it was not going to be granted. Not today. The rivers of blood had turned into small puddles, the fires that once danced with a mighty smoke above them, lay on the ground and the tips of rooftops, barely able to be seen. It was clear that these men were close to their point of exhaustion, they were close to the need for sleep. She let out a very tiny giggle, one that could barely be heard throughout the lands, those who did hear it felt a very real chill creep down their spine, like all of the small bugs in the world creeping, crawling down that series of bones. Now, was she scared of said events, or did she want to erase them from her mind? Neither of these options would hold true, she thought of it as a delightful dance of deviance, diminishing the living for a new sort of population, the walking dead. She had to move, she could not hide from them forever. But what would make a delightful entrance, such to match her demeanor and let those on the other side know that she is not a force to be reckoned with. The small flames projected a shadow, and she stepped out into the middle of them, projecting herself in all different directions, her shadow curling up the the attention of the delirious sleep deprived warriors like a cloud of smoke. Her shadows demanded their attention, she wanted to know who the leader of this pack was, and why they were so furious for human flesh.

OOC:I will be posting to this in a new account, once it is activated. Sorry for the somewhat terrible post, I'm still getting back into the swing of things.

[Pravus]

Such an interesting chain of events happen to the body after it passes.  A careless consideration would lead one to believe that a person dies and that's the end, but in reality, there is so much more.  

The Meek

At first, the body being more liquid than not, the fluids drain to one side, following Newton's apple toward the ground.  This causes the upward side to be quite pale and the skin to seem tight, the other side will be a full and purple bruise.  After a few days, flies will lay their little eggs along the darker creases in the eyelids, the mouth, the nostrils so that soon little maggots will grow feasting on the nutrient-rich cadaver.  A few more days, and the gases in it's stomach will have expanded the body to give us our bloated corpse.

This vision, this creature with life teeming just under the skin so that it looks as if it crawls to and fro on its own around the rack of human skeleton, now looks at the girl.  Its eyes blink slowly at first, the mind trying to comprehend what it sees and hears, although the ability to do so is far from its reach.  Its mouth slowly opens, emitting a smell reminiscent of rotten meat, and it begins to groan loudly.  

Shall inherit

Among her tenebrous shadows there is more movement.  Movement begins to surround her everywhere.  Dark outlines of more walking bodies begin to take shape under the red glow of dying fires.  

Before she can consider if she should flee or hide again, a large hand presses firmly against her collar bone, gently holding her against the tall body behind.  The red-robed Pravus is gentle, but holds her tightly still.

The Dead

"You look lost, child," his voice resonant and calm.  "Shall I help you find your way; or maybe you could just tell me what you have lost?"

OOC:No need to apologize, dear.  Your idea decoded into the post very well.  I look forward to seeing much more.

[Divine Dimise]

A sneer ran across her face like a dancing child, amused at what games he would play. The enamel on her sharpened teeth only highlighted how white they were as the cramped flames now had a rather enchanting pas de deux on her pearly whites and along the ashen skin of her face. Her eyes were dark portals that seemed to stretch on as far as forever would like to, her skin soft to the touch, her forehead interrupted by the horns that grew and coiled, ancient markings into them, making them somewhat unique. It was clear she once belonged to something, though no one would know what. Her rubious tresses spread past her, washed in this unnatural color, her race was more and more apparent with every glance. The clothes she wore were peculiar, very flashy and they only worked to flatter her curves. It would cause any man to quiver at her touch, living or dead. It was obvious she was blessed with powerful looks of deception, giving those who would give into foolish desires a quick demonstration of what she was after, and she was a woman who bathed only in blood. The hands of said man would cover her smooth figure, firmly holding her, warning her that her deceptive looks were a
lot like this hold he had on her, gentle, but had the power to be lethal. She tried to struggle at first, but her physical strength was nothing, and she knew her magics could not be used against someone whom she respected. Her head tilted forward, the milky features disappearing in a curtain of crimson locks.

"I was simply admiring your modern art."

Her voice would cause soldiers to step back, deep for a woman, but like her shadow, it demanded attention, it carried through the night air like black horses carried bad news. She started to chuckle, extremely lightly but just enough for his arms to shake with her movements, she knew that she was in a predicament, and it was his judgment on whether or not a fight would ensue or if he would trust her statement and let her on her way, a woman of few words would calm herself, the smile staying 'pon those cherry colored and possibly flavored lips. In one last movement, as if to close her statement, she pushed her body closer to him, her hoof-like feet making very inhuman tracks in the ground as she took in his scent. She moved her curves in only a way a woman could, a dance to seduce him, to put him under her spell, it would cause him to consider her words, instead of laughing at them, if he was so inclined to fall under it. It was clear by her workings what she really was, and why she was there. She was hungry for the same thing, but she was no scavenger. She was a succubus. He invaded her kill, not only that but he had the guts to touch her, the succubus could do nothing more than respect the man until he made a wrong move, which she was sure would happen soon.

[Pravus]

Pravus considered her words and set his jaw as if he was chewing them, savoring the taste to extract deeper meaning, but it wasn't her only action he was mulling over.  

Leaning down and placing his lips close to her ear, nearly nuzzling against her.  "There are many forms of art, and every masterpiece tends to lend power to the creator,"  he whispers, referring to not only his dark magic, but to hers as well; how she leaned into him and how her contralto voice was thick with more seduction than tone.  

As Pravus takes his arm from around her, setting her free, a tension spreads wave over wave among the exhausted horde of walking dead.  They remain on guard as Pravus becomes relaxed.  The scent of her flowing red hair still lingers in his nostrils as he takes one step back from her.

He can feel their excitement.  They wait for her blood to spill, to taste its greasy coating from steel blades.  He knows that even if his careless action, accosting a woman of power in the dark of night, results in his demise, then his vengeance stands just a few steps away.  He senses the girl, too, knows this and still she chuckles lightly.

A wicked grin crosses his face as he bows his head slightly toward her.  "Welcome to my holocaust.  I am Pravus.  How may I address you?"

[Enmity]

[align=center]en•mi•ty- condition of hostility; hatred; ill will; animosity; antagonism.[/align]

   Yes, it was clear from the beginning to all that her beauty was her curse, the glaze over her dark eyes peering into his as his grip loosened on her, her grin only curling wider now, to show those blade-like teeth hidden so deceivingly in those full red lips. As if she were for one moment, a wolf in sheeps clothing, but that examination would be an understatement for who she was.  

The warm air from his whispers was still clinging to her skin, his dead touch was still felt ‘pon her hips. His foolish moves were a cost for him, and she was sure he knew this already, the lips that once held innocence now held a foul voice that might strangle those who were too close. “Well, Pravus” she breathed in heavy through her nostrils, as if taking in his demonic scent.

With one step closer to him, she would feel the tension of his army rise, even some small rattles here and there of different weapons moving, her untrustworthy, yet inticing figure moving towards what seemed to be their leader. “what you may address me as and what you may call me may be two different things, darling. she reached out her pointer finger to trace the shapes of his shoulder, a soft and gentle touch, followed by rather sharp nails, but she would not put pressure on him, no, she could tell that if they were to face, it would be a close battle.

As her hand reached for him most of the deformed misshapen men took a step forward, out of his lacking command. “Tell your puppies to step down. If I wanted to hurt you, I already would have.” and, this was a true statement, and bringing that out to the surface was foolish of her as well. She took a step closer to him, their shoulders now almost touching, as if it was only suspense that kept them apart, and as she did this, she came nose to nose with him. Her lips tickling his “You may call me Enmity.”

[Pravus]

Touch.  It was her touch that he avoids now.  Before, when he embraced Enmity, he was ready to strangle the life from her so that he may flay the flesh from her meat without her writhing.  Now he knows that it is imprudent to attempt it, as well as lacking in taste now that they are acquaintances.  Pravus is a tactful man, after all.    

He steps away from her touch now because it is equally as dangerous as his was, or even more so; not out of fear but distrust.  "Ah, the little puppies," he pretends the conversation about the dead captures his attention more than her touch or the distraction of beauty, which it really would given enough attention.  He steps from her to them.  "They are incredible, aren't they?  Reborn to life with the sounds of their own murder still ringing fresh in their ears."  He waves them away carelessly, dismissing the horde.  

He turns back to her.  "I would guess the sounds of happiness and pleasantries suit you more than the sounds of blood being spilled, that is, until you arrive.  Have I robbed you of a meal?"

A wicked grin spreads over his face and, for a moment, his mask of normalcy is dropped.  His dark brow and flashing eyes, still very human, but the fragile eggshell of his sanity reveals its frailty in his smile.

[Enmity]

She let a few hard laughs loose from her lips, they hung in the air like metal chains ready to bind any of those who came forth. His manners were a well rounded attribute of him, and she wondered why he had any of these attributes left.

His explanation of his army made her realize who she was dealing with, though he was a dark and twisted man, did he still have compassion for the dead? Or did he jest an illusion to her with words? She kept her guard up, something in the air didn’t smell right. The gravel whispered at her feet, the dust kicked up with her movements, small clouds, beautiful enough for the sky were banished here to earth, like she, like him, like the damned.

The horde was dismissed, it was clear as day that he knew that she had no interest in feeding on him, not only lacking of a soul, but lacking of fresh blood. As he mocked her hunger, all it did was make a depraved smile ‘pon those supple lips. “that you did, sir, but I do not mind.” her hand touched his shoulder, she knew her spell was working. “just for the record” her hand slowly slid away from him as she walked, her back now exposed to him.

The same peculiar outfit covering her skin, though flesh could be seen, it was clear that the armor was sharp, her skin held no scars, but she was the rose stuck in the thorns, or so it seemed.   “ I enjoy the first scream a man lets out, the others after that prove him a coward.” She turned, her hair moving with the smoke from the fire, the dust, and the wind, she went out on a limb, but she craved power, she was hoping this man may be able to supply her. “walk with me.”

Though she used a womanly charm, this came out as a gentle command, she had a preposition for him, and this is usually how all of them start. She continued to walk, giving him the illusion that she did not care if he followed or not, but if anyone could read body language, hers would say that she wanted his company.

[Pravus]

Pravus raised one eyebrow, curiosity piqued.  Yes, he would walk with her, carefully avoiding letting his gaze rest on her curves as she stepped ahead, lest his mind began to wonder what her soft skin would be like if it had the hazy gray of rigor mortis and a dry-paper feel.

He is very aware of being bewitched, either by natural means or subtle power did not matter.  She seems, to him, a dark soul who's deeds and deviousness are worn as proudly and openly as her armor, but Pravus is a different sort.  His smooth robes, tall and thin physique, a lack of armor or weaponry other than an unassuming walking stick speak of a life lived as much in his mind as outside of it, if not more so.  For the moment he would let this play out, to see where it leads and look for advantage.  The difficult part would be to keep such an advantage or risk oblivion, and not let it be known he is aware of this.

"Even those that are not cowards tend to have a breaking point," he suggests in a conversational tone as he catches up to her.

[Enmity]

The dust whispered and curled around her hoofed feet, as though it was trying to escape from her. A wicked smile curled across those plump, deviant lips as she heard his footsteps quicken, only slightly to walk by her side. The sky was tinted in a rust color, contrasting with the trees and making them black silhouettes, easy for ones eyes to be fixated upon. She was tall, though her lanky arms and long legs did not interrupt her graceful movements. Her mind was scanning over the right things to say, she needed to think deeply before she spoke, especially in this kind of situation. “I need power.” she was direct, and got straight to the point, she did not want to keep him waiting for some sort of point. She stopped, looking at him, his hooded figure almost seeming like a shadow on that night. “and there is power in numbers.” she knew that with this proposition he would obviously want to see what she was made of, no one wants to join with someone who is feeble, or would bring their team down, after all, a chain is only as strong as it’s weakest link. Even though her aura could be compared to a dark cellar, and she was as deeply sinister as it came, she would need to show him something. She found a shadow in the ground cast by a tree, though almost all of the ground was indeed a shadow, this was more prominent than the others, this was also a perfect opportunity.

She walked over to it, her steps pounding the ground, commanding that the tree notice her before she used it. As she came closer and closer, it was as if the trees were screaming, begging for help, just from her being near them. She laughed, and the sinister, evil, bounces of sound would echo throughout the forest, the torture delighted her, filled her, and somewhat aroused her. She turned around in the shadow to face Pravus, and sank gently into the ground. Once she was knee deep, her body had seemed to vanish, it was as though the ground had sucked her under. She appeared in the shadow behind him, her quiet movements would cause a graveyard to feel like a cluttered social gathering. She came up fully behind him, wrapping her arms around him, as if it were a loving embrace, but it was clear to any onlooker that it was not. She had him in the exact same position he had her, when they first met. “What do you say, hmm?” her display was shown in full colors, and her voice was soft and tender, reassuring him that it was not an attack, but she would not reveal why she needed this power, or why she wanted to join forces, not just yet.

[Pravus]

Oh, she takes the reigns and steers well.  This is a many-forked road she'll be traveling and the cart is pulled by mad horses. Pravus kept his thoughts silent after this.  His heartbeat was calm, his breathing even.  It was not Enmity's touch that had his attention now, it wasn't the sultry voice in his ear, but what her words meant that left a wry smile on his face.

Everyone has an agenda, and if two agendas would put them on the same path for a time, then so be it.  "There is only power," he said simply.  His voice serious and his tone grim.  "Before you answer me and acknowledge my acceptance, be very aware that one day, even so distant that our meeting fades from clear memory and the taste of blood would be long gone from your parched lips, I will ask something of you."

A cool breeze lazily tossed the hem of his robe around Enmity's hooves.  Pravus became very aware of the rise and fall of his chest within her arms as he paused, considering with silent mind how far to go, how far to bring her into his family of murder and decay.  He had to know where he, the mad cart, should stray from the path and tear the reigns from the hands of the driver.  Like his mind, one day all will be at the precipice of madness and oblivion and it will be within his grasp to either fall into the void or to fly.  Would she hold to him or let go and fall away to the chaos and emptiness which her dark eyes reflected?  

"There will come a time when the only blood that flows over green hill and into crystalline water will be coagulated and smell of rot.  There will be only one heart that pumps something truly real." He gently moved her hand over the organ thumping in his chest.  He could nearly imagine her ethereal hand passing through his body cavity and removing it, examining it while his lifeless frame would falter and fall to the ground, but not yet.  "If I'm lucky, it will be a very long time before I should be required to join them," he nodded from under her grasp toward the shadows of corpses moving in the distance.  He didn't trust her, but her directness deserved honesty, and in that they were equally exposed.  "Now, how might I assist you?"