Al Marg Zagh - With every eddy and churn in the atmosphere, smoky tendrils of shadow and equilibrium of moon-fire and darkness seemingly giving unto each others properties and darkest whims; yet blending perfectly to form the mystique and sinister ribbons gyrating around this broken and battered place. Energies spinning faster on the outside yet indeed calm and tranquil within the centre, like the eye of the storm- that soft dainty hand exploring the features of metal beneath coat, enjoying that cold rapture from the palm of her hand, wrapping around the hilt in nefarious grasp yet so gentle at the same time and no effort would be made to remove her hand from that embrace although it provoked her to take a step closer, and closer again to the bringer of such pandemonium. Amongst the rubble of broken rock and debrisâ¦so close, hand and heart enraptured by this dark libertine of elucidations and scene of destruction; basking in the shredding horror befalling a world; the walls of mortal reality being stripped away piece by fleshy piece as if flaying the nightmarish world from the back of an abysmal Leviathan. Worlds crumbled, haemorrhaged, inverted, gnawing upon the tail of its own bitter end as the worlds of darkness untied in a perfect tryst like lovers beneath the black silk matricide, shift parent flesh to birth a land of darkness, plague and ashes.
Beneath the billowing veils of ravenesque and silvered strands those black emotionless eyes would peer, looking out across the land in a static effervescence, daggers reflecting and portending from those unfathomable orbs bearing nothing but the cursed revelations yet to follow, marking the world in the crux of voodoo intent and the blackest of intricate magicks- spinning those ebony webs of reaping atrocities, chaos spat from the wombs of Utopia- storm choirs gathering in a pestilential choking, hissing sound awaiting for the blackened and brooding skies to burst open like a knifed orifice and drown the sin from the ivory towers of Saturn, crashing against the elements like a thousand suns dying. The grinning, unfurling winds of hatred harmonizing with the screams of blasphemy and the howling of worlds colliding, a fury rousing the disease of biblical litanies before sending flames hurling towards the unprotected masses as they attempted to flee or run for shelter. What Gods had rained such terror?
What Gods would tear the firmament asunder to wreck havoc and torments upon the faithful swine that had done nothing but serve? When in reality, nine were unmarked by sin, the corruptive Vis generated by the energies of this master were of far darker spheres than most she had ever crossed, and whom had now created these diverse effects over the lands of Aoyn. Darkness seeping slowly into the realms beyond, bleeding the darkness like one would remove a cancerous abomination from flesh and bone; though this darkness had now struck its roots deep into the earth, corrupting the very earth, strangling the earth mother slowly, but surely- until even she lay still...the realm still as if no life remained except for the bloodcurdling screams in ascension from the cities and countryside and those whom accompanied this destroyer which sparked so much intrigue within the labyrinths of torturous mind. The people screamed to the skies, hands pleading in gesticulated motion as if that would bring down the sword of justice and protect the lands from these foul malignant beings which held no heart save for the death of whom they saw fit to point a finger upon. Cries arose of abandonment, the fleeting hope of salvation- the tattered remnant of faith slowly oozing from the cavities of realization for what God would allow such suffering?
What God or Goddess of man would allow the cremation of alive infants, writhing and contorting in defiance of the very flames which licked along the soft succulent limbs before melting them like wax; their twisted facades of torment bent into hellish expressions, flesh peeling away from bone as the fatty substance evaporated over scorching coals leaving nothing but black smoke and the stench of burning corpses; however it was perfume unto her senses. Cranium lifted, chin pushing upwards inhaling that sweet, astringent fragrance- exuberating in it as if basking in the ambiance of the summer's sun; nostrils flaring slightly as air rushed in to fill those infernal lungs, pumping the energies throughout her entire form before allowing it to leave in a wintry exhalation; frosted tendrils dancing into the tempestuous atmosphere....kissing the frosted tongues and intermingling into a sinister parody of loverâs tango- spiralling like miniature tornado's before evaporating only to welcome yet another invitation to such a haunting dance.
Death blossomed, its black hankering wings unravelling to gyrate within the very atmosphere, colliding against the elements as they cashed upon the mortal shore inwardly, rearranging not just the physical appearance of the realms but also the molecular structure of the very atmosphere creating a heavy and jagged effect, oxygen harder to inhale and fill the lungs, instead it would cause pain- like pins being pierced through lungs with each inhalation and exhalation; such essences of power released into the atmosphere would indeed provoke a sense of change in every other being within its radius. There was no place to hide within the shattered remains of what remained, leaving the tenebrous embrace of shadow, she would stand in full view- her diminutive figure reasonably tall, draped in the same hue of the darkness which now swept in like a brooding tempest eclipsing the very natural elements of the world, speaking to the unfurling winds carrying her voice to the dark and musk of crypt.
âAmusing is it not?â The word sung so profoundly through dark vermillion lips tinctured with the blood of opiate puppets; simply there because it was within her willâ¦but this event would not inspire any desecration of anotherâs powerful influence- dust covered boots scuffing against the rubble as she motioned through the ruins and broken citadels. Delicate hand leaving the cold embrace of hilt only to extend outwards as elongated fingernails traced the symbols of archaic lore inscribed upon smashed remnants- lithe physique swaying with a voodoo pendulum motion as the first influence of what she could determine as a confident voice, and none that would show mercy to weakness or something considered less than a tool or pawn in which to use to full advantage; it was a voice of cruelty and passion- one that caused her attention to directly shift and compel her to seek these passionate one's who wished to bare the name of the marked.
Moving through the obsidian rock passes, through the rubble as dark-liquored eyes studied surroundings in close scrutiny, using perceptions and intuition to guide through the remains of the Church in ruinsâ¦would they meet her face to face by mere chance or would other fractions and equations come into play? Sleek leather-clad tourniquet form slid through the cracks of piled stone and wood and eventually finding herself within the centre of what could only be determined as the shattered heart of the Church that would become their arena. Form turning in each direction to locate, senses reeling outwardly, tendrils whipping against the blustered and piquant elements in the aid of her searchâ¦stepping over sharp remnants until finding a place in which to allow awareness to drift and search- arch of back resting against a pylon as dark eyes concealed themselves beneath film of eyelids- zephyr inspiring the ravaging of raven and moonlight cascades to gently billow, reaching out to find and discoverâ¦after all she was here so why not explore these energies further delectablyâ¦for a moment she would remain here waiting. A breathless murmur escaping twixt lips in heinous lustre as tongue swept to place moisture causing them to shimmer within the half mitigated light of the pylon her back rested as a whisper was flung to the elements in which would cause those words to drift in salacious dulcet tones for any to hear should they care to listen, a synchronized cacophony of sirenous timbreâ¦coercing or casually demanding noticeâ¦
"Nemesis of this forsaken world, it has been so long since a taint such as this has embraced this realmâ¦intoxicating to say the leastâ¦but have we seen the end or is it just the beginning?" There was nowhere else to post this outside of Ayenee... once another area is created. Simply move this thread. -Awaits for Corvax or other of significant worth-. Privy.
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Al Marg Zagh - There had been a purpose in wandering through the battlements and ruinous decay of once grandiose architecture; even the archaic inscriptions whispered of
his very name- there was no need for complex clandestine incantations or charnel Thanatonian mantraâs; all that was needed were merely a few drops of sanguine accolade to splash against the Coptic engravings of this very Devilâs sobriquet⦠the Devil of Ayenee known as Corvax. Was it not the duty of the
Sorceress of Aoyn to provide her Lord with the means to become more powerful than before, to rise from the ashes victorious, triumphant in every threat to darker the lands of Ayenee.
From everything reflecting within those crypt-incensed eyes, how redundant evil had truly become almost infantile in both act and creed- they were all nothing but lambs being lead to the sacrificial abattoir, slaughtered only to bless the land with the crimson accolade of mass obliteration. Was this not the vision of a perfect world? Would it not make sense to stir those who would bring unspeakable power to the shores of mankind, regardless of misanthropy? Did he not crave to bring these insubordinates to their knees, to beg for a mercy they would never receive let alone be shown; genuflected to the death-kneel only to feel the heat of blade slicing against the tender canvas of flesh? This was their fateâ¦
Right hand ascending, elegance animated by the sophisticated flow of gesture towards the encased scimitar fitted against her contoured hip; a single click against the silver skull metal clasp⦠another motion, while slender digits furled around the hilt to retrieve it. The blade singing against the lip, scalpel edges clashing against ornate mithril while the blade twisted fiendishly before her eyes. How the illumination danced along the honed edges, smiling in the tarnished Hyperion of darkness and melancholy incandescence. Again her momentum drifted to Mars, entranced saunter manipulating prowess to shine from beneath the taut and sheer matricide of leather and gossamer lace- constrictive yet flowing with tattered streams as if wraithâs lifted the veils of the eclipseâ¦. plethoric paramounts at her feet, nipping at clad ankles affectionately as a lover, yet, pacing with the necrophiled madness. Left wrist rising⦠twisting to bring the inside of her arm into plain view⦠oh how the moonlight incensed her porcelain skin to illume- an eclipsed angel.
Instantly the blade bit against that perfumed supple flesh, opening the ravines racing beneath the snow- crimson wealth erupting, to spill over the incision in revelation of intent and purpose⦠a calling of blood where words were not needed nor spoken; the blood was far more powerful than the meaningless word where definition is misconstrued to suit the perceiver of intellectual recognition. Blade falling from the wound, adroit wrist flicking in gyrated fashion to return to its resting place while the bounty of red roses blooming decorated the stone, filling the crevices of the name while acrimonious eyes filled with curses and abomination narrowed. Extending and portending outwards⦠her will to coerce the bearer of the name to once again bring his destruction upon those who dared stand opposed against Varsinax⦠and with him, a new dawn of darkness would rise. Closing her eyes, summoning the potency of her own blood and heritage as the daughter of Lucifer and Lilith; the Devil side to her characteristics, genetic structure could not go ignored⦠he would know the purpose behind this calling, he could know everything there was to know about her⦠no attempts were taken to hide.
The only word to emerge twixt rubicund embouchements was a name⦠the timbre of it would travel throughout the lands of Ayenee, filtering through the Castle itself to tease and tantalize the ears of Varsinax; the voice of Atra wooing another Devil to the mortal coil⦠and he too would recognize the name
âCorrrrrrvaxxxxxx!!!â in a stoic whisper.
This should do the trick nicely m'dearest Corvax.
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Feral Hungers - The rock itself would ache beneath her touch, crying out in past eons of ageless torment, begging to partake in the exquisite dance of despair so profoundly enticing, whispering in subterranean issue, scenting the perfumed reliquary of tenebrous embrace perceived. Ancient banes buried deep awakening in indecipherable longing, subtle relinquishment of devouring overtures flowing together in streaming acceleration, quickening the flesh of one residing, hidden within the folds of the shattered rock. A rumbling crescendo of archaic interactions, reminiscent of the echoes that had destroyed the simplicity of the landscape then... a heartbeat. A single thud of hearts muscle extending, sending blood rushing like the ongoing gales of destinies winds into the desiccated or desecrated flesh surrounding that now pulsating muscle.
The slow wheezing of breath across nostrils filled with web and dust, a gurgling, rasping sound then the rhythm settling as dust and web was cleared from airs entrance, the pinky finger of his left hand twitching, then tapping out the heartbeats enticing rhythm before a shuddering spasm as muscle and tendon spasmed with the ongoing enhancement of lifes return. How long had he slept, what defilement had he missed out on, what hungers remained unfulfilled, awaiting sating by whatever means necessary. Eyelids snapping open, gleams of perverted silver shafting through the darkness in which he lay engulfed, from deep within the massive chest a sombre gurgle that could barely be recognised as a chuckle, for he had beaten them, he had beaten those harlots of purity, those mindless clones whom worshiped law, whom hunted all that fell foul of integrity.
Sniffing disdainfully he sought to perceive any remnant of their sickening miasma failing to find any trace of their rotting holiness, instead discovering something on the breeze, the smell of woman, a smell of someone powerful, a scent of sweetest nectar caressing the senses using blood to summon something of nightmare. One to be wary of, yet one to seek for it seemed this female stood independent of the fawning neophytes and fought her own battles, she was no puppet, dragged along to entertain after battle, instead if anything, his senses and the shattered earth itself advised, she was the puppet master, delicately pulling the strings of those around her like a harpist drawing cacophonous music from Satan's own harp, but for her pleasure, not his.
Every heartbeat, every passing moment saw his desiccated physique strengthening, skin in mummification, transfiguring from leathery blackness to alabaster tones, withered facial features filling out in fleshed definition, hands no more then bony claws, fleshing to male strength and purpose laden appendages. A chill filling the cavern in which he had resided in comatose fascination then a final shudder and his recreation was complete. Stretching, head twisting the loud crack of his neck filling the silence and he rose from his sombulence sitting for a moment to look about. Close form fitting leathers, preserved by the integrati0on of charged gems creaking in the motion as he stood, axe of obsidian blackness within easy reach and right hand reaching to grasp the hilt and raise the artifact, feeling complete once more. Stains of blood wound about the head of his weapon, having soaked into the material from which his cleaving weapon was made.
Standing, flowing locks of silver hair hanging long to his hips, sword raised and slid into sheath strapped across his back, six foot of solid muscle and bone in motion for the first time in millenia. A final withering glance about his former haven then striding forth, through empty caverns, upwards ever upwards towards the surface. Whether the summoning invoked was for another or not, the scent of power, of blood, of raw unbridled woman drew him onwards, upwards until finally he broke free from the earths embrace to enter back into the world. Nostrils flaring as lungs drew deep on the uncloistered air, lips curling into a nefarious smirk as he looked about, surveying all that stood before him until he paused studying ruins before him where her presence sang most powerfully.
Walking in the direction, to stop, to wait for he was not one to enter anothers calling, excepting those thrice accursed dogs whom claimed holiness and then he would enter and kill to his hearts decree, instead lips would part and a voice filled with the echoes of ancient earthquakes would echo forth, not loudly but perceivable to one bearing true power "Your call has reached further then perhaps you intended, when you are done, perhaps... we could speak of blood and matters agonising for I hunger and I sense within your self such hungering appetites for pain, torment and chaos seeking fulfillment. Shall we seek and dine upon the blood of innocence lost."
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Al Marg Zagh â
"Your call has reached further then perhaps you intended, when you are done, perhaps... we could speak of blood and matters agonising for I hunger and I sense within your self such hungering appetites for pain, torment and chaos seeking fulfillment. Shall we seek and dine upon the blood of innocence lost."
The voice could have been flung upon a whisper as she would have caught wisp of it, weaved it about the psychic pall, artistically like a spider entrapping the flyâ¦traced and laced to the lair. Despite attentions focused on that of summoning the Devil of Ayenee, Corvax- her concentration didnât acquire induced states of trance or magickal heightened elations of dimensional manipulations⦠or coerce ancient and Methuselah influences to break hold of purpose, only to direct and sway it towards another signet of worth. It was always about power, the eternal addiction and intoxicating passions to imbibe whilst tainting herself with the mortal coil. Yet her she found herself once again, achromatic eyes staring out the panorama of Ayenee, half with desire and the other with destruction. Both collided against the other with the same euphoric hankerings- both sensations conflagrating from within as lungs expanded only to breathe feigned air⦠for breathe was one of the many privileges of man she did not need. Yet wouldnât it be fun to pose as one, only to get underneath their skin and flay them from the internal to the external?
Slender physique turned askance slightly, chin ascending in a haughty and grandiose fashion, lifting to greet the oncoming indigo of the gloaming against flawless albescent complexion, illuming it softly in the ethereal kiss of wilting dusk. Those words inspired many a reaction from sinister delight to unquenched lust for the suggestions spoken twixt his own blackened lips⦠deliciously oozing with venom, death and emancipation. All the things her ebony heart craved, had even sung for only to find nothing but the emptiness of void for her passion- until now, perhaps? In retort her own voice was merely uttered twixt asechanza stained apertures of ruby ichors and diablerie. Husky salacious timbre wafting to tease the proverbial senses of any whom were worthy enough to hear, those permitted by her will.. for now it would just be he. Dialogue blocked to wandering ears and eyes in the dreamscape of divinatory reverie⦠dulcet, morose with black magick, demonically charnel⦠as if to lure the dead into her coquettish embrace.
Crimson petals pursing, then parting to vibrate the vernacular response from the back of ivory tiers and the upper plate of her mouth- forcing them outwards like a pestilential hiss- tangling with the decaying breezes to this strangers ears.
âAh such decadent words to arouse the attentions of one such as meâ¦what a delectable banquet you bring to thine table; of blood, and appetites that rumble with obliteration. Eradication for the weak, a sibilant death-kneel to those whom have wronged you. Tell me dark lover⦠is it revenge you seek or just outright murder for all who dare attempt to stand and oppose you?â Grandeur silently cursing the gyrating firmament above, suddenly tilting to the direction of where she had pinpointed the location of this lone traveler of darkness; perhaps even the Dark Prince himself, his energies were cloaked in the harangue of hecatomb and antipathy. Conceivably too, he could be one that wasnât to be trusted? Did it really matter? Of course not, for all creatures wrapped in darkness were deceitful⦠beauty was after all cruel and why waste such pleasures on the loyal when the stimulation of the first acquaintance could go either way⦠death or desire, it didnât matter to her⦠it was the art of the game that mattered: thrill for the mental and physical challenge.
His desire was to converse with her? Then so he shall, an invitation extendedâ¦
âYou wish to tarnish your soul with my pernicious presence? Then why not grace me with your epitome and speak of the things that wrought interest in the frozen wasteland of emotion; for it seems my call did extend past intended barriers. Hence now a newfound interest and question comes to mind⦠what makes you so special? Come now⦠things never happen by chance for we weave and construct our own fate; so⦠this brings the intrigue and I am sure should our company be thwarted by Devils- we shall feel right at home. Bless me with your presence stranger and permit my eyes to see what my mind already does.â[align=center]* * * * *[/align]
Corvax - Eyes tracing over the etched increment of the walls surrounding his own castle, the rival and sister to the long lost Emperor of Ayenee's, hand slipping upward to let fingers trace over the ebony covered threads. it would be all too soon that a voice he had not heard before slipping into the consciousness of LaMagra's, the summoning? a sacrifice? it had been decades since he had seen either of the two yet... he almost greeted this one with open arms.
a small step was taken to the right as it had begun, his flesh deteriorating over itself, melting until the elixir that made up his slaves power, the crimson tides began to flow even faster as it seemed to scatter to the left, the separation? not a chance, there would never be a force in this existence nor any existence that could separate the two now. eyes glancing into the unknown, the forsaken abyss of a nights sky as the weapons on his back began their decent into the abyss, the double reverse blade and chaos sword made the transition smoothly, the real pain would be when the gauntlets of Anya began their way that would cause fuss.
âCorrrrrrvaxxxxxx!!!â had been bellowed through his mind as her very existence was becoming known to him, her origins- future- it was all within his mind now, her parents, the late Lilith... an amusing one there, he always had his fun when they were around one another... Lucifel? so this was one of his spawn? the power that Corvax was offered a Milena ago had come back to offer itself to him once more? a pact of energy between the two had never been cashed in, the alliance between them still fresh on the table but would it ever get dusted off? did he really need Lucifel's help? or was his old friends reach too short of helping him now? all unknown to those that never knew nor had a chance to know of the pact between Devils.
the onyx mist had retreated from his feet as they took vanished, the travel to the exact location where she had spilled her own toxic blood had been within seconds, a marker designating each place they two Gods had traveled would always allow them a instantaneous transmission back in case of dire need... or summoning. All she would hear next from the outside spectrum would be the echoing thud that would signify his return to these realms. the splatter of crimson liquid began to seek out the nearest crack to seep through, milliseconds passed as every ounce dripped onto the ground within his Alter, conforming to one solid, devastating entity, the form taken before them both now as his eyes would glace from left to right, the onyx mist took its appearance around his feet.
head tilting to the right as crimson swayed eyes glanced to the exit point, the outside world... was it really ready for him to return so soon? left hand hovering over the spilled elixir, its travel would be swift, the entrance into his own system to make sure that this was the blood spilt to bring him to such mortal coil... hand caving in on the fluid as its very genetic structure molded into the Devil's, lips parting slowly only to be divided by the tongue kept within such confines. it was the correct blood, the potent stain of Lilith, of Lucifel, but there had been another among the two, one not so great, one that had even a sliver of the two Tainted ones powers... a nod would take place as those very eyes traveled to the one that summoned him, the acknowledgement of the other had yet to take place, that being was of no use to the Devil... not when it wasn't his blood spilt.
"The daughter of Lost Friends, Why take your own blood to summon Me? What help does the Daughter of those two need?"Sorry about it taking so long, everytime i got home, i'd pass out, of course i've only been home once since we last talked, I hope this works for you.
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Al Marg Zagh â
"The daughter of Lost Friends, Why take your own blood to summon Me? What help does the Daughter of those two need?"
For a moment whilst the unfurling winds whipped around her perfectly poised form, waiting for yet another to make its presence known; picturesque features intensely glancing across the ruined landscapes, content at the devastation and crackled effigy of once a great empire⦠now nothing but dust and the carrion crows scavenging over what little carcasses remained. It was only when she heard his voice that her façade slowly turned to meet with his with curious expression, not in regards to his presence but that of the strangers who had only moments ago spoken from the talons of tempest. Turning her back, feet elegantly pivoting to bring her standing in the close quarters of the Great Devil himself; Corvax. Squaring her shoulders back to elevate her height, it wasnât at all that she required help but rather to make a request. What couldnât be denied was the idealism that Ayenee without its heroes and bleeding hearts was indeed a better place, to ensure it remained this way was another factor- along with preservation for the darkness.
Atra wasted little time, chin ascending in a strict and shrewd business fashion without double-talking and wasting both their time with small talk that wouldnât go anywhere, just aggravate the responding participant.
âNot helpâ¦a request. It is my knowledge that you once led the Outlaws, persevered the path against the interference of those who dare intervene our will. From what I see, the heroes are all but culled⦠cut from this world like a cancer and I much would like to see it remain this way. Why not kill the beast while it is wounded? Why not drive the cattle brand deeper and harder into the flesh of mortals while the striking is good- from what I see and what I propose is that you and I can greatly benefit from this deal⦠you get the souls, while I get to enjoy the death-rattle and the blood spilled for a name long dead in this world.â Taking a moment to contemplate words, the conviction and end to this little torrid tale of cunning sagacity.
âIf we become more active, it is going to bring the holy back to these lands⦠we can cut them down before they even know what has hit them- if we prepareâ¦now. We may not get another opportunistic chance as this. We bring the Outlaws back⦠and we start the campaign you and Varsinax proposed all those centuries ago, and establish your power back in this land. You may ask what is in it for me. The answer is simple⦠I want nothing of the perks of the slaughter only to be the hand that yields the evisceration⦠death is all I ask for and if I can take down a few of the fools in the process all the better. I ask for nothing of alliance, for it is one thing I do not need for I stand alone. However, my goal is the same as yours⦠so why not gather the resources for a common cause? I want to finish what both my father and mother failed to achieve.â Atra shrugged lightly, atramentous orbs glancing over the back of her shoulder while chin rested against collarboneâ¦staring back into the gathering shadows as if to pluck a secret from the hand of dark angels. Now⦠it was all in the hands of Corvax⦠for him to do with as he wished.
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Feral Hungers- The sharp piquancy of leathers aroma tantilising his nostrils, his own leathers, the scent a comfort of familiarity exuding times when he had been a prince amongst men. His choice of clothing a genuflection to his past experience, but within the wandering breeze, the miasma of her presence blending circumspectly amidst his own offering. An ingenuity of charismatic sensuality that raised the delicate hair on the back of his neck in predatory anticipation of sanguine orgasms of shrieking torment. Betrayed by his own kind, bequeathed to the holy by one of his own blood for the mandatory thirty pieces of silver, the only joy, the knowledge that the betrayer had been betrayed by the cowled ones, afraid to show their faces as they took sadistic pleasure in desecrating the flesh of perverted desire, then flaming the remnants to oblivion's jaded welcome. How he had laughed when the betrayers fate was made known, a momentary respite amidst the travails of his own time spent pursued relentlessly by those of little mind and lesser faith. How he hated those twisted perversions of men, so fraught in sodden belief to deny their lusts and passions, believing they were serving a loving god, whom in reality no longer cared.
Closing his eyes for a moment, lids falling in slow deliberate fashion, lashes, long and dense almost feminine in stricture meeting as beneath the hooded veil an alteration bequeathing a more 'normal' appearance transpired. Silver luminescence retreating into richly veiled emeralds, startling in their purity, dramatic in intensity, the colour he was born with and perhaps in part what had attracted the fate that had befallen him. Yet he was not one to bemoan fates intrigues, instead rising to her challenge and turning a situation that most would find abhorrent into something other, revelling in the egocentricities of the web woven to encompass his designs . After all the longer a spider may spend weaving their web, the better it shall last and the more insects it would trap.
She had heard, the vibrancies scathing the air to reach his ears, filling him with an ecstasy borne of murderous defilement, the tones rife with passions devouring credences as she invited him closer. The creaking of leather as he strode forwards, the rustle of his scabbard stroking his back as he pondered response in motion. Knowing full well that every word uttered would be heard he began his answer as the rippling muscle of thigh carried him forward over uneven rubbles. Adaghar's tones vibrating forth in sonorous gravelled arbitration... "Revenge... no I think not, for revenge is for the weak, a fitting soother for those incapable of direct action to ponder as they cry in their silken pillows and plot an imagined enemies downfall, outright murder..." he paused as a smirk of elucidation creased the apertures that had tasted the living ichor and desired more. "No not truly, for while murder is a pleasure not to be denied, the fear it inspires is an opiate to feed the insatiable hunger and if I kill them all, then who shall remain, craven in their cowardice, crying out to their impotent god to save them. That is what I seek Lady... That the screams of dismay reach the very heavens, the shrieks of endless torment and anguish endlessly appeal the might of an uncaring being until they realise that no miracle will save them, no hand will give them mercy by smiting me down and then... only then shall my appeasement be complete. I seek this for one reason alone... Because I can."
Rippling flows revealed beneath the tautness of leathered harness, another's presence invoked and arriving, a common cause mentioned and terms such as evisceration dancing in rapturous temptation upon his psyche. Who was this woman and where had she been in his hey day, when all the woman he knew squirmed at a child's shrieks and fainted dead away on discovering that the plate set before them that had been enjoyed so voraciously had been carved from the flesh of a rival. Rounding a corner he stopped for there she stood before him, a diminutive woman, fleshed in exquisite visions, small yet had he not witnessed a spider so tiny with a single drop of its venom destroy the life of an elephant. Adaghar would not allow himself to be lulled into false bravado simply by her size, and the male appearing from mist, his eyes demonic and bring rich humour to Adaghar, for at least now he was certain that the whores of god had nothing to do with this gathering. Stepping forward, right hand rising to touch lips, then brow then heart in the ancient gesture of peaceable respect given to an honoured enemy or a worthy friend symbolising that no falsehood would be uttered, no treachery would be thought and no hidden agendas lay within his heart... at least for this meeting.
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Corvax - eyes glancing to them both now acknowledging the man standing behind the Dark Sorceress as she stood so proudly, conviction in her words would fall upon ancient ears, the pondering of appeasing her request would take mere seconds as his head tilted backwards, eyes looking directly upward as if piercing through the roof of his chamber, tainted lips parting slowly as venomous tongue peeked outward to wet stained lips before slipping back in, fingers remaining outstretched as did his arms, comfortably at his side as it was sent out.
"Rrrrrriiiiiisssssssseeeeeeeeee!!!!!" the demonic casting to every ear that once proudly held the name of an Outlaw, the mist slowly fading to perhaps an inch above the ground as more words would follow the cataclysmic summoning.
"Blood and fire used to fill the night.... Burnt and drowned by our very lives.... Rise, again we will rise!!!" head slowly turning back down in the direction of the Dark one for a moment, he would not respond to the mans gesture, if he wished an enemy then so be it, if he wished an ally, then his only task to accomplish such a feat would be to slaughter in the name of Carnage.
left hand slowly rising up to scratch at the base of his chin before letting his feet carry him in her direction, she was not his target, nor was he... his target had been outside his chamber, to the outside world that would soon be his again. eyes glancing directly ahead as onyx hair fell behind shoulders, fingers moving slightly as he passes her, was she serious in this matter? did she really know what she was getting herself into? bringing him back to This realm? cast out by his peers, the destruction caused in his wake of the past would be nothing compaired to what he was going to bring forth to this new land... this new existence.
"Sorceress, since you have brought me to this forsaken place, used your own blood, sacrificed any barrier you could have possibly possessed to stop my onslaught...then stand by my side in this, this resurrection of Immortals, It is only right that I bring my little brother's Daughter along for the ride." eyes remaining on the entrance as he soon passed her, his way was made to this other now... the time to recognise him was at hand. he was not intimidated by the Devil's appearance, by the excretion of unholy power, perhaps this man could be of some use to them both.
"Until I know who or what you are, you shall be known to me by nothing other than Ghost, your existence means nothing to my cause at this point, When you finally matter to me, or to the behind me, then I'll ask for your name, until then, Care to have some fun? get your hands a little dirty within tainted blood of this land?" Just before he exited the structure, his left hand had come up to the frame of the door as his head turned to the right... crimson eyes glowing back at the two for one last sentence before he left, a sentence that would be come to known by those "heroes" of this land, by those that would stand against these two... possibly three.
"My vengeance will be swift and terrible... Many will die... We are the distance between two points... Forgotten, a Void."[align=center]* * * * *[/align]
Darkness Incarnate - He was elsewhere, traveling somewhere through Aoyn, though since their last meeting, and even before it, he had always done what he could to keep tabs on AtraâLamia. At times it was as if, even with his endless sight and keen perceptions, that Atra simply was nowhere to be found. Such was the case before she made her appearance in these lands, in the realm of Aoyn, and issued forth her call to those with the same goals and desires as she, to those who would take care and listen. Cyan was not a fool, he did not assume that she didnât know when he was watching her and when he wasnât, after all, why else would there be times when he couldnât detect her? Since their last meeting, which had ended with her attacking him after he made the mistake of taking hold of her ass, he has been trying to keep an unfaltering eye on the newest object of his desire. However, upon hearing her call for a ânemesis of this forsaken world,â he canât help but be intrigued further by the woman who already intrigues him so, and it does not take much effort for him to see her, only a thought.
Her essence is one he is very familiar with, one he would never forget, and since such is the case, it is very easy for him to locate her by her shadow, which is as known to him as his own, for when he has watched her through the darkness, it is almost as if he could reach out and caress her. And so, with his attention locked once more on her form, and with her issuing a call for someone to come forth, Cyan considers making his entrance, just when he perceives the sound of anotherâs voice, one answering her call. He listens to the words that are spoken, and smiles when the being states that Atraâs message has perhaps reached further then she intended, as such is likely the case with her message reaching Cyanâs listening ears and mind. Thus he smiles, and thus he decides to wait for this other, new voice to show itâs physical form. He assumes for a moment that this new being might be the Corvax she spoke so stoically to, but upon hearing the entirety of what the unknown individual has to say, he comes to doubt that, and so his curiosity is peaked as he wonders who it is Atra is trying to summon. Cyan doesnât have to wait long for his questions to be answered, as the one he guesses is Corvax seems to answer, and his answer merely brings more questions to Cyanâs mind, such as how these two know each other, and at the mention of Atraâs parents, Cyan canât help but wonder who they were, as well.
It is then that Atra begins to reply to the one who questioned her, and Cyan listens to her words with great interest, since he has yet to know her reasons for calling out in such a far reaching fashion. Upon her speaking, Cyan hears of a group she calls the Outlaws, which were apparently led by the one she is summoning. He continues to listen, his interest in what Atra is proposing to Corvax and seemingly this other unknown appeal greatly to Cyanâs own palette, and it is then that he decides to finish what he is doing as he draws his attention from Atra and her plots which he plans to join shortly, back to the here and now, with the body of the father hanging limply by his throat in the grasp of Cyanâs left hand. The mans right leg and right arm have both already been cut off because the human thought he could attack Cyan after he killed his wife. It was when Cyan moved to kill the daughter that the man attacked with the only thing he could find, a pathetic dinner knife, no use against Cyanâs short sword.
With a simple parry, he had knocked the mans weak attack off course, and with another twist of his wrist and subsequent tightening of his triceps he brought his blade around and down, cutting easily through the flesh and bone as he removed the mans hand just behind his wrist. After that, raising his right arm Cyan stepped forward with his right foot and placed it on top of his victims own right foot, keeping his leg in place as he brought his blade back down to once more taste the blood and flesh of the defenseless mortal, cutting clean through his thigh with the same ease as his arm. After that, once the man was crying out in torment on the floor, Cyan stepped forward over his body and lifted him up by his throat, which is where he still stands, now that he has finished cherishing his moment of slaughter that he knows will be remembered by this little girl forever. She will never forget because she is the unfortunate one who will be left alive and all alone to fend for herself once her father is dead, since the village around them was devoid of life by Cyanâs hand before he arrived at their door, covered in blood.
But her father isnât dead, not yet, and with that thought Cyan takes his short sword and stabs the man in the gut, impaling him to the hilt. He then releases his hold on the blade handle, and with his free hand he takes hold of the mans chin and jaw, forcing his thumb into the fathers mouth as he twists on his jaw and yanks back with inhuman strength, tearing the ligaments and tendons, flesh and muscle, and in essence most of his face from his head. Yes, this is a day she will never forget⦠Cyan thinks to himself, smiling as he drops the body of her soon to be dead father to the flor as Cyan himself fades from sight, seeming to sink into the darkness beneath his feet and into the floor. Thus he has re-entered the plane of darkness, and with a thought and a small amount of focus, he is again watching Atra and the unknown being, and the one who he assumes is Corvax as he is exiting the structure. Apparently Cyan had missed whatever had taken place in the chamber, because he was cherishing the lives he had destroyed, and the girl whose mind he had surely corrupted with his unholy actions. Nevertheless, with another thought, Cyan begins to take shape to Atra and the unknown beings left, seeming to form from thin air as he walks out of the darkness in the corner, covered in blood and the stench of death, fear and sorrow. It was then that he realized he had forgot to drop the fathers jaw, which he had for some reason simply held onto while he focused again on Atra and making his way to her. He tosses it to the ground before him, not disgusted, but simply finished with the worthless man, and so he had no need of holding his body parts. The deed was done, and the satisfaction of the kill was reaped already. Cyan brings his thoughts back to the two before him, and from under the cloak of his long black hair he smiles, wondering what Atra will think of his arrival. âCertainlyâ¦.You must have known it wouldnât be long before I arrivedâ¦Calling out as you didâ¦â is all that he says to hisâ¦enemy? Friend? Whatever, it was up to her, but Cyanâs desire for her was without question.
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Al Marg Zagh - What a gathering of vagabond misfits already gathered upon the knoll of ruin and blasphemy; ads if it had already been foretold in the dimming stars that began to reveal themselves as the fading light died, bleeding out with shades of deep, brooding Tyrian purple and the amalgamation of Prussian blue, forging into the richness of indigo. The darkness approached, and in more unspeakable ways than just an elemental influence over the unsuspecting world of Ayenee where men and ant toiled away- like slaves to the rhythm of the Pied Piper; but then again, each were unto this world with their own plague just like Nergal digging away at the immune system, ready to inject his potent venoms. Ignorance was after all bliss, and the creatures and arsines of Ayenee proved this theory ever so eloquently. Best leave stupidity to wallow in its own mud hole along with the swine of nations, or the snake to engorge on its own better end- this was the defecation of the mortal horde; already dead⦠just unfortunately none of them knew it just yet.
With the approach of the stranger and Corvax, a sense of nostalgia returned; fluttering through the phantasmorphic spectral wreathes of coalescing, like moths to a beacon beguiled with bright illumination, only to lure them to their deaths like nebulous sirens with their silent bitter songs. The stranger speaking in turn, of how revenge wasnât what his black heart sought- instead screams that would reach the ears of angels⦠fill the very halls of heaven with the cacophony of anguish, suffering and torturous pain. Heralding the fall of mankind despite all their futile attempts to safe keep the cursed; bring down the golden banners of celestial armies only to meet their doom within the maws of ravenous hordes- history was always doomed to repeat itself⦠and once again the soil would be drenched in the obliteration of angels or those broken, bathing their wings in the blood of a million slaughtered martyrâs. Evil would always triumph for without it, goodness would cease to exist and the last ray of hope⦠extinguished.
Pandoraâs box, had already been opened despite the stories and placebo of false myth- evil had escaped into the world locking away all possibilities of hope; and now that box was held in the trenchant grasp of an even colder savior⦠though savior wasnât quite the correct term used in regards to a nemesis. She simply nodded at the strangerâs words, unsure if he was trying to convince her or himself of his convictions; it all meant the same to her, death on swift wings⦠it didnât matter whose wings brought the blackened plagues over the smothered landscapes of a world already damned to rot from the inside out, like an apple. His last words brought an inquisitive glint within the tourmaline animadversion of her eyes, giving no indication of the secrets branded on the emptiness of void, deep upon the interior, only granting him the accolade of him seeing himself for what he truly was⦠the mirrors of an oracle revealing all denied or rejected. Frozen words retorted, dripping with venom and disharmony, yet, at the same time eerily majestic.
âYou do this because you can? A demurred revelation of the ego for all to behold, your conviction justified simply because of will and whatever code of honor you hold upon yourself. But tell me well versed one⦠perhaps I should end all existences, reach and grab the sun and moon, crush them in both hands before devouring every world with my voracious appetites⦠just because I can? Question is⦠where would this leave you?â A dark smirk crossed alizarine lips, moist with anticipation⦠shadows eclipsing her features as if the crone Goddess herself kissed the brow of her flagitious daughter.
âI know where it would leave you⦠where your words mean little and your actions even less.â Head declining in a mocking gesture of feigned obeisance as Corvax gestured with a most darkened gaze over the stranger before addressing her in the fashion thus rewarded. It was all too amusing to her senses, but she certainly knew what she was âgettingâ herself into; it was no more dangerous and perilous than every other nightmare she had wrought into fruition- Ankhnesmira had no concern he had been banished by his peers for never again would they accomplish she a feat⦠all their chains had been broken, not just this once, twice or thrice⦠but forever.
Words so destructive and intractable, raspy while revealing the essence of her chthonian lineage for all to relish, devoid of breath or compassion for anything of this world- they would all suffer a hundred deathâs and never would a single ruby tear be shed.
âI stand not in your path of onslaught instead pave for the way in Goetic banners of blood and vituperation! If I donât plan to stop you⦠there is no one on this world capable of doing so; they have not the power or resources of this world to attempt to dishevel me from given trinkets⦠so tell me Old Devil of Ayenee, how does it feel to be back?â Corvaxâs last statement brought a philippic sneer over apertures, one of evil contentment and the other eagerness to announce the return of the Forgotten; how would they celebrate such an event? It was the exhilaration that inspired the hoarse purr to evolve from the back of esophagus, an asphyxiated guttural yet salacious intonation.
âOh I am counting on far more than just many⦠only shall my heart leap with life when all I see is an ocean of corpses that stretches for miles over âHISâ green earth; paint for all a scene of biblical red⦠where the stench of their children tantalizes nostrils to aspire ultimate bereavement, knowing that salvation has been forsaken and the only real thing tangible is that soon they will suffer the same fate. There is nowhere to hide, and nowhere to run.â Features illuming, Lemurian in the melancholy moonlight⦠and it seemed another would congregate, flock to this union of plotting Devils and Fiends; Cyan. His words drifting to tease the ashen complexion of visage, to tickle over the symmetrical arches of pyrite embouchements as they curved into a sarcastic anamorphosis leer, eloquently parting slowly to speak, making sure all attention would be focused on the blossoming buds of rose-red petals.
âActually, I thought you would have learned from the last lesson of our meeting? I guess, I was incorrect in the assumption⦠shall we dance again or is this more of a business proposition than a⦠sexual one?â Acuminous scintillation weaved hexes and curses within the Malocchio of baneful dark eyes as they stared menacingly at Cyan, then sweeping across nonchalantly over the others, making sure eye contact was maintained at all times and never underestimating any whom were present, should it turn into a conference less amicable⦠things would surely become very interesting. A delicious nest of vipers ready to strike⦠at any given moment and certainly, she was no exception.
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Feral Hungers-Thrice accursed progeny of intractable destructions flowing through the flawed charismatics of arterial conjunction, injunctions of assaulted hopes fulfilling his breathing, indeed curious as to why he had awoken at this refined juncture of proposed sacrilege. Studying the woman before him with both mind and sight, fully comprehending that what he saw was only as she allowed, nothing more and nothing less. The arrogance of her associate amusing... in its forthrightness for the assumptions invoked. Perhaps Adaghar was this demonically inspired creatures equal, perhaps not, but to simply assume him beneath notice displayed a singular lack of strategic thought, after all, when a stranger appears in times of potence, shouldn't one at least wonder why... or what exactly they are? False pride played no part in Adaghar's existence, to many times had he seen others believe someone less then worthy of notice, too many times had he laughed when the insect had arisen to bite with catastrophic revelation. Thus if Adaghar was merely an insect, so be it for now, it would allow him observance without constraint and freedoms not given to one considered more... worthy. "A little fun... if that is what you choose to call it, of course but only if carnage, doom and the suffering of all innocence is involved," he would reply in sharp unequivocal retort.
Chest rising and falling, a shudder passing through his frame as from deep within a gurgling tumult of obscene mirth arose in diaphamorous chuckles to the woman's response, fingers stretching and knuckles cracking with each motion. No doubt existing in his mind that she could make such foretelling a new reality of atrophied existence. Emeralds catching the glisten of mirroring from her eyes and head turning slightly to allow the loud crunch of bone grating against bone while lips pursed in contemplative digestion. "You would crush the sun and moon and devour all the worlds just for little old me..." The subterranean grinding of his voice oozing, like the last drops of blood from an eviscerated corpse. "I am flattered indeed at your offer, such grace to a stranger is touching... and where would it leave me..." he pondered momentarily a grin laced with suggestions of impending revolution gracing the rugged lines of the powerful jawline. "Why you would have set me free from the restraints of accursed bindings, releasing the many that exist within this frail shell to exact their own specific brand of simultaneous evolutions, such... archaic pleasure, to return to the emptiness from which they emerged." His voice no longer a solitary artifact, instead filled with tonal reverberation hinting their was more within then met the eye.
With every moment, the final frailties of resurgence alleviating as from the earth beneath his strengths returned to fill the smooth flesh of his form. Sadistic urges rising along with the hungers and passions, to pluck the eyes from newborns and serve them daintily skewered with virgins blood as a dipping sauce, to crucify priests and rape holy women with their own sacred artifacts while arousing the passions of their young acolytes into grotesque perversions. A sigh of deep appreciation to such delights, then nodding in anticipatory sequestrations to how she described the disruption of 'His' green earth. A thrill of onrushing destiny existed that he had awoken at the right time in the deep malefic recesses of Adaghar's mind to emerge from his silent doom to the presence of this deadly inspiration of violent female predator before him.
Subtle manipulations in the shadowed essences of corrupted umbriac effulgence, the emergence of anothers presence off to his left, and nostrils flaring to drink deeply of the cloaking swills of dark eruptions, feeding the inner torments, for all chaotic rendition offered substance in some cyclonic fashion. Mind closing to all but the ladies perception, shuttering in such way that the eyes would perceive, but his essence would seem empty except for the pallid entropy of lusting appetites to these other males. An offering of trust to her? Unlikely... more an integration suggestive of dark alliances with one truly competent in annihilation. The only thing he would retain in hiding from her perusal was what exactly he was... that for now was for him and him alone to savor like the dark and smoke filled wines of his youth. "Ahhhh... I forget my manners milady of dark unholiness... I am called Adaghar... a name times annals have likely forgotten, buried in sacramentous parlaying by those deserving to meet the 'god' they claim to adore." With this, Adaghar inclined his head in retrospective elegance as tongue wandered across his lips in retribution of the tastes within the essences abounding.
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