IC: The Temple of Darkness/ The Plains of Sorrow

[Andarta the Slave]

[align=justify:6e30e36eb3]The temple stood there silent in the night, its structure barely even able to be made out in that thick blanket which surrounded it, one of black and the other fog. No light was to be seen in the windows or even leading to this monstrous building. All Andarta knew was that it gave her a very uneasy feeling, a sense of dread deep down in her insides that made her want to vomit. Everything stood still around it, everything dead. No trees with leafage only barren ground and unmarked graves which jutted out from the ground as if they were broken teeth, a monster waiting to devour them the moment they strayed from the path. The earth was dry, no nourishment had ever touched the soil here, only death. Andarta could smell it through her nostrils, every step closer. She wanted to pull away, to run. But some kind of dark magic made her stay, tugging on her and she knew right then that they would never be able to leave this place.

Each step brought her closer to the temple, she heard the crunching of steps behind her and she knew the others followed closely. Were they caught in the same trap of evil magic that she was? Its power could not be denied and she had never felt another like it. Smothering her every breath, dragging her closer to a doom she knew was coming and even though she feared it, the lust of it pulled her closer to its stone bosom. Long auburn locks were caught in one gust of hot wind, or was it something’s breath teasing the back of her neck with its foul stench. Its long claws raking at her skin, to tease and provoke those lustful images to hallucination as she closed her eyes tightly, not wanting to see their nightmarish promises to unearth those animal passions stirring in her stomach. Hands clutching at her attire, wanting to tear it free and run with those dark fiends in the night, to break her barrier of innocence into an eternity of wanton orgy.

Her breath caught, a lump formed in her throat and she could not breathe. In a panic she clawed at her throat as lips gaped to try and catch some air. It was like all air was being kept away from her, sealed in a glass jar like a small insect. Turning around frantically, horror filling her eyes as she caught no glimpse of the others. Quickly looking down to the ground she noticed she was no longer on the path where she had been walking. There was no temple, nothing. She tried to force a scream but nothing came, even as she kneeled to the ground, only one hand holding her up from totally crumbling to defeat. It was then that it came, a crushing sensation around her neck. Unseen and invisible it began to strangle the very life of her out of this frail body and there was nothing that she could do to stop it or fight against it.

Clawed marks scratching along her limbs, shredding her attire as thick scratches appeared and blood oozed out from the wounds. Deep wounds were inflicted along her legs. From her ankles to the outside of her thighs, even her arms suffered the same fight. She curled into a tight ball but that did not stop the attack, instead she found herself in mid air only to be thrown, landing hard against a solid surface then sliding down it, hitting the ground with a loud, thump. Biting sensations and slaps assailed her face and shoulders, an invisible force pinning her down against the ground with her arms above her head and legs sprawled open. Rapidly shaking her head, she wanted desperately to wake from this dream and find herself back upon the rags of her cage. The slave auction was better than this, at least with the beating there she could see her punisher and feel the salt being thrown in her wounds. This she had no chance against, she could not fight against this magic, this witches curse.

Still the scream would not come, only the gurgling sound through the stranglehold. She could feel something, something wet sliding up the inside of her leg, touching the folds of her womanhood before rising over stomach towards the cups of her breast. What is god’s name was this? What creature of hell was taking out its pleasures over her human form? Slithering along the curves of her body, sucking at her skin with numerous mouths, tightening around the nubs of her nibbles only to tug and slash over them while the other parts were being assaulted. Tongues lashing against the softness of her stomach, its weight almost crushing her beneath its invisible bulk while her legs were forced further apart. It was then that she felt something slide inside of her, forcing its blade deep into her soul only to withdraw slowly and then force itself back in, violently, again and again without any remorse.

Tentacles digging into her stomach, piercing the flesh only to retract the liquefying insides it desired to feed upon. Eyes wide, rolling fiercely in the agony inflicted upon her and it was only then that she was aloud to scream. As if the beast wanted to hear it, lusted to hear it. Nothing audible escaped from her lips, only that blood curdling scream IT desired. It’s cruelty was unmatched. Staring down at the black tentacles writhing about her body, four of them stabbing through to the center of her stomach as they pulsed with her inner delicacies. Andarta dared not look at its face, she was terrified at what her eyes already beheld, a spider-like body moving in and out of her like a spear, shuddering above her in ecstasy.  Arms no longer held by the fiends under its control she fought frantically against it. Hitting against the hard, black surface of its bulk to no effect.

Multiple massive legs raking along her structure, teasing her breast with pinchers and sucker-like mandibles while the larger of the testicles drank within her, or so she guessed but it was like they were also injecting her with something to make sure she stayed awake throughout the entire process of its pleasure. Fully aware, not able to fight against it only scream. The protrusion from between her legs eventually withdrew, the barbs running along its shaft thick with secretions of its release only to have another rise above it. The muscle hardening to a sharp daggered point before thrusting harshly within her torn cavity to commence with its pillage all over again. The pain was unbearable, and she screamed for help “HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLP MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! PPPPPPPLEASE GODDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!” Only to receive harder thrusts. This THING relished in her agony, the taste of her and the way she felt on the inside as it stabbed and jabbed itself deeper and deeper into her womb.

Black feelers pulsating with a thick secretion no longer being pumped out, but instead now being pumped in. Filling her with its essence, impregnating her with its vile secretions. Andarta felt it burning inside of her, even after it withdrew, continuing to hold her down while a female’s laughter inflicted her soul with an even darker dread. Head turning to see a raven-haired beauty standing there, relishing her screams and pain. Hand outstretched as if controlling the beast and its actions of ridicule, shame and sin. The hold once again tightening around her wrists like vines while the woman draped in nothing but sheer lace, exposing her own nakedness to the world without shame. The slave smelt her get closer, the decadent perfume wafting through her senses, lust and hatred. It aroused sensations and emotions in Andarta that she never knew existed. She wanted to taste this Dark Goddess for herself, wanted to give her pleasure but hating her all in the same, one emotion.

Trembling lips quivered to the Black Mistress of Night, the one true Dark Goddess of Ayenee and Eden. Mesmerized and transfixed to the sight of this glorious deadly beauty, wanting more of the ravaged mayhem felt in her loins while being blessed to relish in the sight of HER. With a swoop of the woman’s hand the beast withdrew, but did not venture far in her dominancy, it remained in all its hideousness. A nightmare in its own glory, red lust in its eyes for the elation it had just been rewarded. Yet, still the unseen hands held Andarta fast, even as this ravishing ravened beauty straddled her, pale hands dancing over the flesh of her stomach where the fiendish leeches had been drinking or extracting. Breast heaved to her touch, pert nipples erect as sharp fingernails danced over the brownish hues of succulent nubs.

The woman’s hands scraped downwards then over the wounds, only to heal them as rubiescent lips bent down to grace against the lips of Andarta, tongue haunting those quivering arches that pursed and bloomed just for her to take that taste she wanted, the taste she craved. She did not fight against this Queen of Midnight, not even as her lips departed hers and began to drift down, plopping one of her nipple into her mouth as tongue encircled and flickered over swollen buds. Andarta moaned in delight, her throat sore from the screaming but finding more pleasure in this that what any scream of pain could entice. Unless it be a scream of sheer pleasure. Eyes closed and even Andarta could hear the anticipation of the creature watching this blasphemous occasion with baited lust. Its grunts gave that away, and in this a strange part of Andarta was actually turned on that it was watching, wanting more.

The slaves back arched, scrapes of stone and blood rendering it the awakening of it to the harsh, needle-like winds. Lips tightening more around the nipple as this decadent mistress of darkness suckled harder and harder on the rising mound while sharp nails dug deeper into her sides, pulling her closer to the mistresses’ whims. Andarta grew even more aroused as the other hand trailed down between her legs, circling the bud of her female heat. Grinding those fingernails at either side of her erogenous button only to stir it with electrifying effect and all Andarta could do was keep her eyes shut and enjoy the vehemence of this experience. A moan of disappointment echoed with lips left her nipple, but once again commenced as those lips of death traveled downwards past her bellybutton and onto the very same hub that her fingernails had been stirring.

Never had a sensation been felt like this before. Andarta had been a virgin until this night, other than having to pleasure her masters cock with her mouth every so often, never had she been penetrated. She did have experience with other woman, for sometimes it pleasured the slave masters to see a little woman on woman action, it was usually what sealed the deal a little faster, horny men with horny ambitions. One leg rising to allow further access to the center of her soul, she did not care to open her eyes and feast upon this magnificent beauty or her hideous beast thriving with a newborn lust and craving for rape. All her focus was now on the echoes of utopia rippling throughout her body. She ignored the heaving sensation within her stomach, the creeping sensation boiling beneath the now healed skin of her taut stomach. Nothing seemed to exist but this wanton Goddess between her thighs, drinking of her nectars and merged secretions of mortal and beast.

Andarta did not notice in the peak of her orgasm that the dark beauties apertures had left the swollen nub of her most erogenous zone, still grinding it hard with a gyrating finger in anticlockwise direction to acquire added stimulation. Nor did she notice that the tongue of the beast now entered her, tasting the brewing amalgamation fermenting inside of her, bringing to life what it had birthed within her womb, a sort of webbed adhesive to seal the slave from the inside out. In her yearning for lust, Andarta had failed to see the devious evil being inflicted upon her, and that this was no act of random passion but instead there had been a far more sinister plot behind all of this, and the birth of a new legion of hideous creatures all at the domination of this, malicious Goddess.

No name could be uttered in the midst of this delight for she knew not of one, only a name that now quietly filtered through her mind, the name “Aaaaatra’Llllllamiaaaaa!” in retort to this enchantment, the same name whispered through her lips, merging with the winds to be carried to the others who dared venture into these unholy grounds and even those behind these walls, ruins and mountains. A name that would stir all those whom ever knew it. The very name Atra’Lamia Darkbane.  The slave cooed it like an affectionate lover, content in the fornication of sin, unbridled lust and forbidden desires. This Goddess had chosen her, not Regret, the one dancing and welcoming this mistress with all her own expressed unbridled wantonness, that she had been the chosen one to delight the Goddess in her lustful adventures.

Eventually eyes fluttered open, witnessing the wondrous landscapes of perfect breasts, full and firm, above her. The Goddess herself now naked while the beasts’ tentacles ravished those mounds as a lover would. The Goddesses own cardinal lips slightly parted in sighing pleasure and it only aroused the slave more as she watched, tongue licking across her lips while caught in this wicked spell. Again she failed to notice any movement made by the woman, even as a hand moved to her back to produce a sacrificial dagger. The kiss roughly broken only to have the dark mistress stare down at her with a malevolent glimmer within those cold black eyes. The dagger held tightly in her hands and held above her head while a few words were chanted, Andarta did not know what they meant for it was an ancient language spoken. Upon the last chanted word, the dagger came crashing down, entering her stomach before brutally twisting and thrust upwards to the pinnacle of her abdomen.

Blood rushed past Andarta’s lips, torrents gushing only to splatter the crimson ichors over the milky white skin of the Goddess. A large cavernous wound carved into her stomach as it gaped and then, opened, spewing forth a swarm of thousands of spiders in squamous masses. The tiny black glistening bodies bubbling beneath the skin of the dying slave. Legions of the venomous arachnids spawned forth into the world as if the gates of hell itself had opened, birthing a new curse onto this world. And a curse it was. Poisonous minions capable of defeating even that of gods, devils and demons, regardless of their proclaimed status of being invincible by avatars or hosts. Atra’Lamia leaned down, her lips lovingly licking the blood from Andarta’s, a tongue protruding to lick clean the remaining ichors while she sucked in the very last breath of the slave. Her hands digging into the skin of her throat as fingernails perforated the flesh of her neck, then tearing it completely out in one effortless grapple.

”You served me well precious one! But no more of your ‘services’ are required, you have served your destiny… so sleep now, in torment… within these temple walls- for there is no hell nor heaven unless I permit it so, and unfortunately for you… you shall never see neither.” With that Atra’Lamia rose above the lifeless body of the slave, blowing one last final kiss before turning to the creature; tiny spiders crawling  at her feet before scattering themselves to the winds. Black heinous eyes casting themselves on that of the beast, as her right hand rose with palm outstretched- a ball of black flame focusing at the center of her palm before dispersed to inflict its own wrath on the creature now engulfed to the discordance of her one ‘true will’, reducing him to nothing more than blackened ashes. There was nothing more than the delight of watching a creature, which was faithful express the look of betrayal in its eyes- the realization that it had been nothing more than a puppet through the entire course of its loyalty.

 It was a look that Atra had seen many times and one that she completely relished in. She had no declared loyalty or comradeship to any creature, none that she wished to adhere to. The beast had served its purpose to her, all she required were that of his species and that of a mortal to merge, therefore permitting them to remain in this world and not return to the dimension of its creation. Dimensional beings had a limited time of being able to sustain themselves in the mortal world, and even though her had been a faithful servant, his ‘service’ was no longer required. Instead of returning him back to his own world through the portal she had originally summoned; she took it upon herself to free him from his existence. His children would serve her well, easily controlled and not so easy to kill- she would be sure of that.  Spitting on the corpse of the slave, stepping back just a little to watch her ‘new’ pets dissolve the body to nothing but a fond memory.

They were such ravenous little critters, the way they spun their webs to covet the body, then set to work dissolving it to nothing but liquid- then dining from the inside out before scuttling behind their mistress as she walked through the fields of ash, waiting for another of the travelers to stray from their paths. Their fears were what awaited them, and not even one of them had the ability to hide what they feared the most… all of them were walking into her web, and none would be permitted to escape- they would be lost forever to the darkness, and the thick glistening webs that would soon engulf this place. A forest of webs, a plague of spiders…a place that would become known as ‘The Plains of Sorrow’, a treacherous place that would soon be feared throughout these wretched lands of Ayenee. [/align:6e30e36eb3][/font][/size]

Dy just sent me a transcripted script of the live roleplay that we did a month back. This is what happened in the roleplay and I accepted the death of my character.

This roleplay was great fun and I hope people enjoy the read.

I will bring another character into this roleplay when I decide what it is I am going to do. I will not use this account and instead make another to save any confusion.

Thanks Dy for the brilliant roleplay, it is always a pleasure to roleplay with you, you always inspire me beyond words.

[Regret]

In regrets own state of clouded mind, she did not notice the disapperance of Andarta. The fog was so thick she coould barely make out any image that did not seem misplaced or nightmarish. The place simply gave Regret the creeps, even its sadness engulfed her heart and for one of the goddess, it was a sense of negativity she did not like to be surrounded in. No matter which way she looked there was no real sense of direction, like every path led them to the same fate of death and gloom. Her nostrils were thick with the stench, snuffing her soul and demanding it to do horrible, sinister things to those traveling behind her.

For hours they had been walking in circles, it felt like circles and she was sure they had passed the same tormented, twisted oak more than a few times. It did not strike her as odd to get lost in dire circumstances for she was mortal and only had those mortal senses to go by. The other man and woman however, it was not hard to see they were not mortal and never had been mortal for she knew the look of the fey without having to be slapped up the side of the head with one. The fey had that distinctive aura of mistrust about them, the way they flittered and gittered in riddles and hidden tongues, for all Regret knew, this was just their way of finding amusement in mortals. It wouldn't be the first time that had been done.

And then there was a force pressing her on, even when she turned as if to travel back only to find herself facing forward and walking in the same direction. Or was she? It had gotten past normal perception and sense, this place lacked them and there was no way anyone could fight against something that wasn't there or had any reason or purpose to it. This was pure and absolute chaos and she did not like it one bit. With Andarta gone, she was now the one who led the party through the swamps and echoes of the ghostly and damned.

Maybe whatever was picking them off was starting with the weakest and working their way up to a challenge, then again, maybe the one who had bought them had something else this dark deity wanted. And with his newfound female companion dawdling along beside him, the treat was even tastier. Regret knew some thing hungry waited beyond that fog, in the darkness. Regret knew that hungry feeling before the strike, it was the same pressure that loomed over her village before it had perished at the hands of its enemies and the wolfs picked off theit scraps of flesh. She also knew that feeling of stillness, knowing some thing was in the darkness and every time you turn around, nothing is there only that darkness and creeping silence. Regret felt it then just as she did now.

Some thing was waiting, waiting to pick them off one at a time or even two. She felt, that in no way was this ancient darkness at all shy or fearful of them, it feared nothing. It was this sense of intuition that caused the tiny hairs to stand up all over her body and the slither of coldness creeping up along the center of Regret's spine to the top of her head. In all naked glory never had she ever felt as exposued, so vulnerable. Not even in the times of the trails, or during auctions where she was left naked in full display of all those prying eyes. Reget felt like an insect one about to stumble into a web and left to die. Maybe then again death woould not be as bad in comparison to this and whatever evil thing lay await ahead of them in the swarming fod and darkness.

Even as it cloaked around her, the usual ghostly touch of it seemed solid, more sinister in its origin that just a thing of nature between condensation and warmth. This was cold, the coldness of death as it kissed you farewell to the body and greeted the soul to an eternity of suffering and purgatory. Did the others feel this? They should of and being fey they should be more senstive to it, an unnerved by its presence, far more than she. At this point there was no sense in words or speaking, it would only give away their location to whatever lurked, if they had some kind of advantage may be it was the fact this thing was blind except by sound and movement. Then again, it coulc be playing some sick and twisted game with them, able to take them one by one without means to hide or ambush.

Who knew? Certainly Regret did not and had no means of knowing not to mention any defense she could think of against it.

[StrawberryGashes]

[align=justify:4d6eadaf81]What darkness was this? She heard the thoughts of the human and found her hand reaching out to the back of the females head. Fingernails all ready to ensnare those long black locks and pull it back viciously before chewing her face clean off. Long fingernails reaching out, crooked and gnarled just like the branches of every dead tree that also seemed to reach out for the mortal's soul and Lady Rat's essence. An idiot could not see this so she wondered why Mallebron continued with his quest for forbidden things. Just being here was going to tarnish his light and essence. He would never be welcomed back into the light. Did he not know this? Did he even care? There was a slight chance he did not and this amused Lady Rat to all pleasures, just how far one of the light can fall into darkness.

Lady Rat did not care about the lost woman, it was one less mortal to have to tolerate on this adventure into an eternal abyss. It did not even matter to Lady Rat where the little wench had ventured off to, probably fallen into the swamp, or the woodland tooth fairies got hold of her and devoured every last morsel. ”Now what a delightful thought!!” she exclaimed out loud. Fingernails snapping back at the hair of the woman while she danced and vanished into the fog before them. Mortals were such vain insignificant creatures, amusing slightly but more annoying. The sidhe had no tolerance for them but it was set in her heart that before the day was out.

She would taste that little girl’s blood on her hand and relish every bit of taste for it after ripping her hair out in bloody chunks. If not brutally show her just how intolerant Lady Rat can be, thus far they had only seen the polite side of her, the malignant side was more than ready to peek its ugly head out and show them all a not so very fun time. ”Mallebron! Mallebron!! Mallebron!! Just what nasties have you gotten your loins entangled in? A witch perhaps or just some clever little mortal sorceress that has tickled your fancies?” Although she had no explanation of what was happening all around her, where they were going and what essence fueled this dark place. All she could identify with it was magic of the most foul kind.

A witch and sorceress were the only two possibilities she could think. What Goddess bothers with the mortal world? Then again, was she not here? That caused her face to twitch, as if in disgust with herself. Vain as she was, if she could bother with the mortal world and go trampling through the woods and swamps like a beggar searching for a crumb of bread some pigeon had dropped on its flight. Then it was possible, so could a Goddess. Unless Mallebron had gotten himself all mixed up. Lady Rat knew mortals often referred to gifted women and healers as Goddesses, but surely not one knowing like the fey? Shaking a snake-like finger at Mallebron ”Hath ye finally lost his marbles, eh?”[/b]

Scooting along the path like an old crone. Dragging her cloak around her then hunching over to appear old like, as if to fit into the scene of things or just go along with it, one or the other while chatting and chanting away to herself ”Witch bitch! Here witchy-witchy-witchy poo!!” Lady Rat had to do something to entertain herself by, at least if some thing killed the first slave, they could have at least done it in front of her, gave her some thing to cheer about other than scoot and scuttle along some path barely able to see anything before her let alone around her. ”If you are going to do something, then do it already. I grow weary of this tripe and triffle!”

Whatever lurked, she was calling it out. [/align:4d6eadaf81]