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Welcome to Elenlond, an original medieval fantasy roleplaying forum! We strive for creative, free-form roleplaying, in the hopes of allowing each and every single member the power to achieve their potential.
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| Welcome to Elenlond, an original medieval fantasy forum! We're always looking for new, dedicated members. Elenlond is composed of two continents: Soare and Esiria. Esiria, a land now isolated due to the efforts of the last remaining Goddess, is inaccessible to all beings and lies in the east. Soare, a continent in the west, is composed of three distinct nations: Ashoka, Soto, and Morrim. Lying between the two major continents are the Scattered Isles. Since the dissolution of the pantheon and the fall of the gods, these countries have existed in relative peace and prosperity. But how long will that peace last? Enter Elenlond; Turn the pages and tell your own tale. If you're already a member please log in to your account to access all of our features: |
| The Eye of Zanna; for Ashes and Sphynx | |
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| Topic Started: Sep 19 2009, 11:08 PM (147 Views) | |
| Andromalius | Sep 19 2009, 11:08 PM Post #1 |
King of the Sexy Guys
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Many conquerors decided to take a break after a large-scale battle. It was the safest time, after all, when you've just slaughtered a nation's military forces in a single night. Peoples' first reactions would be to think of the massive power it would take to do what he'd done, and, coming to a conclusion, they would stay away because they don't want to deal with it. But the cunning lord should attack directly after such a battle, as surely enemy forces would be attempting to recover. Typically, an army would be its weakest now. Andromalius had thought about this, backwards and forwards, sideways and diagonally, and it always came around to the same thing. Why stop now? Still, his momentum was gaining, and with all the excitement, he didn't have the time to settle down. His blood was on fire, senses sharpened. He could take on anyone right now, and he'd fight like a ravenous beast. Three-hundred years ago, he'd never gotten this far. His best attempt had only gotten him claim of the mountains and part of what is now Eastern Morrim, but during his first attempt to take the country, the white mage had come to silence him quickly before he could spread his disease. What had changed? All the wisemen were gone now? Yes, and the younger generation didn't seem so quick to catch on. Now it was getting to the point where their options were dwindling, unless of course, they liked the idea of a dead world. However, the closer he got to supreme control, the more he knew he would be cornering the resistance, when and if it came. This was the reason why he had to remind himself to ease his own mind just enough to keep from underestimating any situation, for it was getting easier and easier to assume he would win. Time waited for no one. The next step was due tonight, and that was exactly where he was going: back to the tower, back to the beginning to tie up some loose ends and begin a new thread. But this time, he was far from alone. A light, girlish body was riding in his arms, draped over them in the only way he knew how to carry a girl and not look completely ridiculous. Riding on his back was completely out of the question, not to mention, he was sure his hair would get in her face the entire way if that was where she was. Cutting across the night sky, just below a large and hanging moon, Kinaldi disappeared from beneath them, transforming into what would eventually be great forests and grassy planes until their arrival at the foothills of the Do'Suul. Andromalius landed into a walk, his cloak trailing behind him, eyes directed up and glued to his sanctuary. So much has happened since he'd been here last. He was returning as the Emperor of two nation now, and at the speed at which his plans were moving, it wouldn't be long before the other nations broke beneath his influence. "Welcome to my home," he commented to the girl at his side. If she were to look, she would see a massive black tower, a single solitary spike, jutting out of the side of the mountains. It loomed in the shadows as if it never would exist anywhere else. The ghost's face turned and dropped a bit to look at her. It seemed he was mulling over the right thing to say. "What you see inside is liable to make or break our "relationship" or whatever you might call it. I need to do something, something rather unfortunate. I think, in witnessing it, you will discover how I came to usurp the throne of Morrim. Come." He started off in a fast walk, entering the mouth of the cave that was the entrance to the tower. He would glance back every so-often to make sure she was still following. "Sphynx should be meeting up with us here. I told her we'd be doing this tonight and she seemed fairly excited. When you meet her, be submissive and non-threatening and she'll probably just try to ignore you, and no matter what, avoid a fight at all costs. She is aggressive, domineering, and a very powerful sorceress." The dirt floor began to ware away into elegant black marble with white veins. "She's my Queen." At last, they arrived in the throne room of the bottom level. Everything was cold and gray, and the isolated atmosphere had a way of sucking the joy from a soul. Andromalius walked past the throne towards the great spiral staircase and began his ascent, his destination, of course, being the rooftop observatory and the sweet little Empress residing inside. By now, her spirit had surely been broken... |
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| Ashes | Oct 5 2009, 02:25 PM Post #2 |
 
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The longer Ashes kept such dark company the more and more she felt a place of, if not belonging, at least acceptance for her oddities. It was refreshing, an different, having an absolute home and an absolute sanctuary therein. It was Andromalius who had made it so though, and in their shared dark humor and idle chatter she had found her guard dropped around him, relaxed and even considering him to be her friend. Another fact of her new life was that she was learning, and as fast as her tutor could teach and instructor her she would work diligently to master. Reading especially had come easy, probably due to the absolute hunger she had felt to achieve it, and now one of her constant haunts was the palace library, where she was known to lay on the floor before the fireplace and drown herself in words until hunger coaxed her from the den or sleep claimed her consciousness. Her new interest was world religions. Why? They were funny. She was a doll in his arms, still and relaxed, lithe form sprawled across his arms as he carried her across the sky. The ever changing hair atop her head was currently a deep burgundy, clashing marvelously with piercingly green eyes. Those absinthe colored eyes stared out at all, drinking dark silhouettes who's shape was shown only by the pale moonlight from the great catered giant in the sky behind them. Even as her head turned, peering towards it, it felt unnaturally close. An appropriate source of light for a journey such as this. Tarot flew beside them, tail coiling and whipping behind like a ribbon in a performers hands. The way the air played across her pale skin made Ashes shiver a little. She was clothed sparsely in one of her black tube-like shirts that covered only her chest, and hung low on her hips were loose black pants, the left leg covered in silver threaded detail of an elegant swirling design, that seemed to run up her side as she had used body paint on her skin. She had treated herself to a new cape, spending a majority of her coin but it wasn't like she ever really needed to buy anything anymore anyway. Andromalius kept her well fed, and gave her a good place to sleep and live, along with servants and maids and tutors. It was her paradise, in this dark company, and thus she felt no guilt at all in spending such a large amount of money for a thick black hooded cape with inside lined with leopard fur. Soft and smooth the fur warmed her effortlessly. It billowed around her as she was finally allowed to touch her knee high black leather boots to the ground, the laces tied tightly as she did a series of thoughtless flips on impulse. It was strange how comfortable flying was to her, never was she tense or awkward when airborne (thought admittedly this was one of few times she ever had been airborne). “Home hm?” Ashes' eyes practically glowed in the darkness, the intensity unrivaled even when the lack of light made her vision less that dependable. Tarot landed on her shoulders, tail wrapped around her upper arm. He had grown quite relaxed in Andromalius' presence, as his girl had. The wind chased through the mountain setting, in the trees something large ambled out of sight, heaving heavy breaths. As the breeze dragged chin length strands of silky hair out of Ashes face it changed to a deep blue black, as if to match the grand monument looming over her. She followed her tall, silver haired friend towards the discreet entrance, a long fingered hand moving up to scratch under Tarots chin, making the dragon thrum as a cat might purr. This place was empty, nothing to catch her eye- no, nothing caught her eye, in all its vastness. Finger traced the pillars they passed, her boots silent on the marble as she walked beside him, looking around, eyes bright. |
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| Andromalius | Oct 17 2009, 08:20 PM Post #3 |
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King of the Sexy Guys
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The staircase followed into the ceiling of the first floor, where it then turned into a tight, enclosed area, the walls of which were only as far apart as the steps were wide, and they weren't very wide. As they passed the second floor, Ashes would be able to see the passing banquet hall through an open doorway. Dried blood had stained the ground in two or three places, somewhat fresh. The side of the giant table harbored a large scorch mark, also fairly new. His steps echoed in the endless, rising hall, as if this place were as completely empty as the room she'd first witnessed within the tower. There was a heavy feeling of desolation in this place, as if it were some kind of dark pocket dimension that only they occupied. Someone could become quite lonely and depressed living in a place like this. Or, perhaps, it was perfect for a ghost. This place used to bustle with the comings and goings of servants, as well as friends of the old master and representatives of the Morrim Empire. Before the Wicked had claimed it, it used to traditionally be the home to the government's official dark mage. They'd nearly forced him into the same fate, as if their wills could bend him. Through another open doorway, the third floor revealed a giant room with mountains of books, sitting on shelves as tall at the ceiling. It was a glorious and imposing sight for anyone to behold such an impressive collection of knowledge, centuries worth of work, but she would not be allowed to linger to see its majesty lest she wished to find herself lost. The Banshee continued to proceed. The fourth and fifth floors passed in a similar fashion, the fourth being nothing but a completely empty floor, not even pillars or books to decorate it. One would wonder why he even had it, but none-the-less, it was one of the more important rooms in the tower. He had to practice his skill somewhere... and he didn't really wish to destroy his home. The room was protected with barriers, sealing any magic within it. It was also a pristine place to imprison a mischievous mage. The fifth floor held what looked to be a drained pool. The sixth passed without her able to see what was within it, for a large pair of double doors had been erected for privacy purposes. Since Erimentha's uselessness, it had been occupied recently by Sphynx, were she to wish for her own private quarters one night. The seventh floor is where they stopped, if only for a moment before they reached the observation room. This place was also concealed by doors, but something rested beyond which Andromalius would need tonight. He threw the door open and strode inside, lighting a candle on a tray beside the door to aid with the finding of the object. It was a gorgeous master bedroom, different from the other floors in that is was positively packed with items and decor of many sorts. A large, four post bed made of shining ebony was stuffed into the far corner, and tossed upon it were sheets of red silk, disheveled as if nobody cared to make that bed, ever. In the sheets, holes were torn, the signature of where Andromalius had slept. This was his bedroom. Traveling over to this bed, he bowed to withdraw an old and rusty chest, the side of a bread box. While it's wooden exterior was old and rotten, it was fastened by a brand new lock, the key to which was quickly retrieved. If she cared to wander in behind him, she would be able to hear the click of the lock and the groan of the chest as it was opened, and the item within taken. The chest was left there on the floor as the Banshee stepped back towards the door and left to follow through with the final ascent that would take them to the observatory. The observatory's door at the end of the staircase was wooden, and held much of the same properties of the chest just before. Surely, it would not take much effort to break down, but its front was secured by steel braces and a simple lock that would only open from this side. "People wonder what ever happened to Empress Isra Amiel of Morrim. Let me show you." The door opened. The scene beyond it was like a child's nightmare. Dead vegetation fell from the walls, curling in upon itself as if in agony. Above, a roof completely made of stained glass depicted dark rituals of mutilation and the theft of souls. This painted glass tainted the moonlight, bathing everything in a dark, blood red. Still, even as the ground was covered in thorns and dead leaves, cold as concrete, the worst part about the room, by far, was the naked, frail and emaciated body shackled to the center. Open wounds had become infected against her once soft, porcelain skin. Her hair was ratted, impressively long, and tangled with the withered vines that had collected along the walls. Her hands were caked with flecks of old blood, the product of one's attempt at clawing their way out of a prison. Her head was down, hiding her face from the light. It smelled of filth here. "Ah! Your Highness! How are we feeling today?" Andromalius beamed, gliding across the room towards the twisted body, chest rising and falling so slowly with the last bit of life within her. "That bad, hmm? Well, it'll all be over soon." As he said this, he crouched in front of her, reaching out so that the back of his chilly hand would caress her cheek, likewise moving her hair a bit to reveal her empty eyes. "I promise..." |
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| Ashes | Oct 17 2009, 10:52 PM Post #4 |
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Passing the various levels Ashes mad Andromalius a living shadow with her form, silent in step and not speaking allowed as they moved up the stairs, occasionally breaking away to examine the contents of a floor closer, though she never ventured past the doorway, far to eager to see just was Andromalius had in store for her this night. She had grown quite accustom to his presence, even venturing so far as to say she trusted the banshee, though if asked she would probably even venture to say that in a way she was friends with him. She was distracted from her thoughts on her dark companion by a glimpse of a sea of books, her body halting as the Wicked walked on. She moved towards the doorway, obviously eager to run in and immerse herself in the knowledge those pages no doubt held. She wanted to read all of them, wanted to make herself a little den as she had in Kinaldi's palace library and just read stack after stack, pausing only when necessary. Still, she tore herself from the paradise of printed words and ran the rest of the way it took to catch up with Andromalius. She would indulge later, but now there was obviously business to be done. Entering his bedroom (the torn sheets made it no question) she moved after him and sat on the bed, leaning back on her elbows as she watched him withdraw the bread box. The new lock caught her eyes, “What's in that?” She asked curiously, her head tilting and her hair turning a light robin's egg blue. Tarot leaped from her shoulders, catching only enough air with his wings to travel to the banshee's shoulders, where he perched and eyed the box with his intelligent eyes, mirroring his master as she too waited for it to be opened. Ashes frowned at not being allowed to see what was inside, but sighed and followed just the same. Tarot took flight, moving quickly up the last stretch of stairway, claws digging into the wood as he landed against it and then leapt off with a cat's grace back to Ashes' slight shoulders. Opening the doors was like walking into a storybook hell, with dead things in agony, the plants wrapping in on themselves in pain. The floor was covered in their flesh, leaves and thorns and all manner of debris- and then there was that eerie light. She stepped further into the room and looked up, now black hair fell backward, away from her face. Above her were depictions of cruel and merciless act. It was terrible, but somehow rather fitting for a man like Andromalius. She laughed, and spun in a circle like a little girl might, her cape whipping around her. Boots crunched on dead leaves as she spun a total of three times before Tarot leaped from her shoulders and she stopped, smiling face turning to see just wear her pet and her friend had moved to. Her eyes narrowed and her head titled as for the first time she saw the naked, emaciated body of the woman strapped to the chair. Tarot had landed on the back of it, tail swaying as he looked down with his own curiosity. Ashes too moved closer, though not so close as her pet, standing a few steps behind Andromalius. She watched as his fingertips caressed the dying womans cheek. Infected cuts, thirst, hunger, all were evident in those vapid eyes and for the first time Ashes smile fell and she stared. She knew all those feelings, she knew what it was to be starving and exhausted and thirsty and have no one to help her. She knew what it was like to have deep infected wounds and to feel pain, hell, it was hardly a matter of feeling. Pain was married to her, a constant lover despite her own feelings towards it, She looked away, and a sudden remembrance made her eyes brighten once more. This was probably the first time that woman had probably felt real hunger. This was probably the first time she'd been thirsty, or experienced that terrible realization that there was no one to help her and she was going to die. Ashes gaze turned back with the coldness of a sharp blade, hoping Andromalius hadn't seen her moment of pain she moved closer and asked, “Why didn't you just kill her? What good is she?” her eyes didn't move to the banshee even as she spoke to them, meeting the empress'. 'No one ever helped me' her own seemed to say, 'and now I'm not even going to try to help you'. “What're we going to do with her?” Finally, her face turned back to Andromalius as her little daredevil smile curled her lips, standing like a princess even in the face of such horror and cruelty, her cloak hung loose on her shoulders still, barely held by the delicate silver chain. Her hair had turned black, as if to contrast the red light that bathed her features. She seemed so much at home amongst the death and darkness, the scars on her arms clearly visible as she crossed her arms over her chest. |
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| Andromalius | Oct 17 2009, 11:17 PM Post #5 |
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King of the Sexy Guys
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As Ashes got comfortable on the bed he and Sphynx had shared, he seemed to make it a point to keep the object in the box a secret, even to the dragon perched on his shoulders. "It's a little something my predecessor left behind, a fun little item with a unique ability. I've wanted to use it since I got my hands on it, but haven't had the proper... preparation? I guess... you could say?" A sly grin accompanied his glinting eyes as he glanced up at her before moving on. The observatory was, by far, his favorite room in his favorite place. If he could work it out, he'd like to die someday beneath the stained glass, after all was said and done and he had earned his eternal rest. He made no motions to acknowledge the girl behind him's steps forward, instead moving his hands and nails expertly to comb through the former royalty's tangled mane. Within seconds, it was nearly all straightened out, a handy grooming technique of his to keep his own hair - it was so long and troublesome - always perfect. However, the woman's eyes remained glued to the floor, that is, until Ashes spoke. Then, the woman's attention lifted to the poisonous greens of the other's. Her lips moved, barely, just about fused together by now. She hadn't uttered a word in months, but now, her breath quickened, air filling her lungs just enough to whisper. What she said was not a cry of pain, nor was it any kind of begging to release her from her current state. Instead, "...P...Please... protect... the ...the..." It seemed so difficult to utter one simple sentence. "...Protect the people..." The corners of the Banshee King's lips curled up into a subtle grin. Her will truly was unbreakable then. Even in her last moments, she would keep her dignity, only attempting now to do the job she so miserably failed at before, to save Morrim. "What are you talking about?" Andromalius turned his head to look at Ashes, his smile brightening. "She's plenty good!" His large, black boot landed on the seat on the chair, forcing the Empress's legs apart lest she wished her knees broken. The mage leaned down upon her, patting her head in mockery. "Aren't you? As far as I'm concerned, if you have enough strength to speak, you have a use! And a use is just what I found for her..." His foot fell. Casually, he folded his arms behind his back and took a step away, closer to the Chameleon Head. "I know you're eager to see what I have in store to show you, Ashes, but the party can't begin without the leading lady. Sphynx should arrive momentarily. I promised her the satisfaction of the kill. I suppose going out of her way to toss this one a piece of bread once in a while got on her nerves." |
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| Sphynx | Oct 19 2009, 11:11 PM Post #6 |
All-Knowing Mod of Elly
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“Oh, was I supposed to do that?” The leading lady herself strode into the room like the breeze, the usual black cloak trailing behind her like a shadow. Her eyes travelled not to the woman imprisoned in the center of the room, but instead ran up and down the other woman who stood just behind the banshee. So this was the woman whose voice she had heard in the stairway, Andromalius’ bedroom. Sphynx had spent the majority of her day in the room which Andromalius had set aside just for her, pacing mostly, and waiting. This would be the day that she had been dying for for the past few weeks now. She had been on edge ever since she received the message for this evening’s plan, but purely out of excitement. Distractions hadn’t helped either; she’d tried reading, practicing spells, and even considered torturing children, but nothing had worked, until she had heard footsteps traveling up the stairway. Sphynx had moved closer to the door to her room and was just about to open it when she heard voices in the room above her. Ever so carefully she silently turned the knob and opened the door just a crack to easier make out the voices. It was difficult to hear exactly what they were saying, yet one of them was unmistakably female. She felt her eyebrows narrow unconsciously simply at the sound of the female voice, and when footsteps once again carried the pair further up the stairwell, she quietly followed behind. Where he ever found this girl, she couldn’t even begin to guess. But as she stood before the child now, sizing her up with a cool gaze, she couldn’t help but wonder what her part would be in all of this. Everyone had a part, even herself, as Andromalius wasn’t the type to keep useless things in his life, as cheap as they may look. “I didn’t know we were allowed to bring pets to the party.” The dry tone, emphasis on the word ‘pets,’ gave a good first impression of what she thought of the other guest in the room. Almost reluctantly her gaze turned back to the banshee, yet she kept her distance from the both of them. As excited as she was earlier to begin this evening’s festivities, now she also had questions that she wanted answered and yet was torn on what she would rather do; figure out who the mystery gal was or kill an empress. Such a difficult decision; and yet, not so complicated at the same time. The hint of a smile traced the corners of her lips as she finally looked over at the pitiful creature in the center of the room; the star of the night’s performance. She appeared to be in much better condition than Sphynx had hoped to find her after so long, but then again Sphynx didn’t tend to give much credit to other human beings. A sudden idea crossed her mind, and with bright eyes she looked once again at Andromalius. “When we are finished tonight, can I keep her?” She didn’t bother explaining herself anymore; a necromancer can find plenty of uses for a dead body. And what a sight it would be to the people of Morrim to see their empress as a puppet… |
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| Ashes | Oct 25 2009, 09:51 AM Post #7 |
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“Protect the people? The people? You and I, hun', obviously disagree on what makes someone human. Those 'people' you want me to protect are the same who can't be bothered to toss the rats a few scraps, and they beat you if you steal. Have you ever watched a child get his head kicked in? Have you ever seen a merchant club a youth until he was bloody and broken, all for stealing a piece of bread from the trash?” Ashes laughed and shook her eyes, but it was cold, and mirthless, a sound that seemed too hard and grown up for the slight girl. Her eyes burned as venom laced her voice, ”Well I have, your majesty,” her tone was not condescending, but it held a burning bitter note not unlike the green that filled her flask, from which she paused, taking a deep gulp, listening to the scrape of the cap, ”And in this world there are people, there are pawns, there are kings,” Tarot's tail twisted serpentinely around the womans neck, turning the empress head by force, lifting her chin so that she could stare into his keeper's poison eyes, “And there are monsters.” She laughed, eyes flicking to Andromalius, a rather teasing tone to her voice, playful even, as if all the seriousness of her tone had evaporated, only to return, “And trust me, there are a lot more monsters and pawns than people and kings.” Naturally dark lips parted to continue to speak to the emaciated, a moment of ivory fangs bathed in red moonlight before they were again hidden, and poisonous eyes turned to eye the woman, no doubt the lady of the tower, who had spoken. There was death in every step, in the flutter of her cloak and in her icy blue eyes. Taller than Ashes, taller than most, actually, and the unmistakable, domineering click of heels on the floor made Ashes stand just a little be taller on her own. The scars on Ashes' arms burned suddenly, an irritation quite demanding of the attention of sharp nails. Her own, painted black dragged up the crude marks with enough force to draw pin pricks of blood to the surface, but the daredevil, fearless smile never left her features. There was an intoxicating feel to that expression, the way it lurked behind her eyes and in the gentle upturn of her lips. I know a secret it all seemed to say, but just the same she brought her arms to cross over her chest. Her hair changed to a stark white, the way snow looks before tainted by footsteps, but stained with bloody light just the same. The tone of the dark ladies words was unmistakable. A snide but nonchalant comment in a voice that felt like the sharpness of a knife. Where her eyes were ice and winter, Ashes looked back with absinthe and fire. She opened her mouth to reply but all the came out of was a laugh, her hand seeking a tarnished flask at her side and taking a deep drink from the drink within. No sugar, not water, nothing to lessen that tantalizing burning and bitterness. As the girl stood so close to Sphynx the other may feel the odd sense of death around Ashes, similar as her own only lacking the control. Instead of a necromancers air of power, Ashes was a living doll, animated by lives not her own, with a soul like a doll made of cloth scraps. “Well he invited you, didn't he?” She responded after her laughter, hot like fire, subsided. Fearless, but mostly disobedient, she refused to unlock eyes with the woman. Whereas this woman held all her power like a scepter, demanding respect on principal, Ashes had found all her own in fighting like a dog. She wasn't one to cower, or back away from one even so much greater than herself. On the streets, to back down was to lose all you had gained, respect, food, belongings, and more often than not, even your own life, and as a girl, you had even more to lose. Tarot's claws dug into the dying empress' shoulders for a moment before he pushed off, bat-like wings beating as he landed his lithe form across Ashes' shoulders. His tail hung town, twisting and winding like a snake might of its own accord, wrapping itself around her left arm while his chin rested on her right shoulder. He was no longer wary of Andromalius but this woman no doubt spiked both his interest and his protective nature. The palace rat's curiosity was peaked at the odd request, not knowing much about necromancy, nor that Andromalius' lady was such an authority on the art. She moved her hand, scratching Tarot under the chin and saying softly, joking under her breath to the miniature dragon, “Sounds like someone here swings toward the skinny, dead and female.” Tarot thrummed as if to laugh. A few dead leaves fell, prompting Ashes to look up once more at the ritualistic scenes that bathed them in bloody red. Her own words had made the wheels of her mind turn. If she was right, and all there were in this world were people, pawns, kings and monsters, where did she fit in? The answer made her smile, eyes turning back to Andromalius as her hair white hair change to a familiar and favored hot pink, though it was stained to gore red by the light regardless, only the shade of the color changing, darkening to the hues of an open wound. [Sorry for the wait, got my wisdom teeth out Friday, and I've been too out of it to post] |
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| Andromalius | Oct 26 2009, 11:02 PM Post #8 |
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King of the Sexy Guys
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The Queen's unmistakable tone graced the room at last. Andromalius glanced in her direction first, eyes lighting up in a way that Ashes had yet to witness. Seldom were his emotions so strong that they openly broke his stone mask with such a lack of control. He left his position to cross the room and join her. They'd waited long enough. This needed to happen. Now. A dark chuckle followed Sphynx's initial comment. As long as the Empress survived until tonight, he didn't really care how she'd been treated. "This is Ashes Ironheart of Zedrin," he indicated the aforementioned 'pet' then turned towards her. "This is Sphynx," an arm raised and uncurled in the Necromancer's direction, venturing out so that a chilly taloned hand could wrap around her shoulders and shamelessly drag her into him. His gaze dangerously slid into her icy eyes, saying without speaking how much he'd missed the pleasure of her company. "Of course you can keep her." The exchange between Ashes and the sacrifice went mostly unobserved. It seemed now that Sphynx was here, she was absorbing all of his attention, however shallow that attention was. It wasn't until Ashes spoke directly to her that he was torn away. Slowly, eerily, his head turned to stare at the abrasive and possibly dumb-as-all-hell little girl, as if he could not believe the tone in her voice. As the stare down between the two ladies commenced, he drew away from his woman, casually fading to the side. He would allow Sphynx to handle this the way she wished, as she was fully capable and understood that the 'pet' was not to be completely terminated. That was the plan, at least, until he caught the last thing she dared to allow leave her mouth. Great, moving shadows rose from around his feet, swallowing him up in waves of blackness. In an instant, he was on the offender, arm winding back in a powerful collection of potential energy before it flew, the backside of his hand whipping across Ashes' face. He would let the sting set in before speaking again, staring down at her in a way as if to let her know that she was in dangerous company, and one step away from not only possible death, but even worse, living through a life that would be far worse, worse even than anything she'd been so unlucky to encounter before. This was the big leagues, not the streets. The rules here were different. He'd warned her. "Hold your tongue." His command was cold and intolerant, as poisonous as the assaulted's eyes. The Banshee's voice dove beyond its natural state, carrying with it a chorus of malice and seething rage. "You forget where you are." Yes, this was not the streets of Zedrin. This was the Black Tower. "I've had enough of this," turning, his cloak was tossed into the air as he displaced himself behind the Empress. "We've stalled for long enough and I will not allow this to be put off a moment longer because you two feel threatened." The same hand that had inflicted harm upon the chameleon-headed palace rat fished into his robes, retrieving the item he'd drawn from beneath his bed. In his hand was a black, opaque orb the size of a softball, able to be held in one hand. It seemed useless upon a first glance, but those who had dabbled in death would feel its shallow pulse, as if it were hibernating. "It's time. Sphynx, you know what to do." The Empress, after hearing the girl's bitter words, lost all hope of escaping the situation. There was nothing left to do but die. At least she'd done her best... |
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| Sphynx | Oct 27 2009, 09:50 PM Post #9 |
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Sphynx felt a small smile stretch across her face as the banshee gave her his full attention, almost as if he forgot the other woman was there. It was what she had come to expect from him, and she wasn’t about to admit how much she enjoyed the attention. She didn’t fight his grasp like she once would have, but instead her own arm came up in an almost mirror image of his, but lower, wrapping instead around his waist while his hand rested around her shoulders. Her eyes lost a hint of their usual iciness when he granted her request, and part of her even considered kissing him, even in front of his guest, as a way to show her thanks, but then he drew away and once again Sphynx found herself staring down the cat he had brought back with him. There were so many different ways to deal with such a creature, yet she didn’t think that Andromalius would allow even half of them. For whatever reason he had brought Ashes here, it likely wasn’t for Sphynx to torture. She was going to have to restrain herself, and with the prospect of what was yet to come, it wasn’t as difficult as she would have thought. Sphynx settled for a cold smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. There were plenty of things that she wanted to say to the other woman, like how she didn’t need an invitation, but she managed to hold her tongue and let Ashes finish speaking. The combination of Ashes’ final statement, and Andromalius’ swift, sharp reaction to it, was enough to crack the tension that she had brought with her into the room. Sphynx had to hold back her laughter and instead shot Ashes a cruel grin. To see how he treated her when she had insulted his queen left little room for doubt in Sphynx’s mind that the girl was merely another one of his pawns. He had plenty of those, as well as a few knights and even a castle. But the most important player, besides himself of course, was the queen; at least that was how she saw things. After all, who was the one who would receive the empress as a gift after this was all over? Who was the one granted the special privilege of killing the Empress of Morrim? Certainly not the street cat. Sphynx turned away from both of the other women in the room and smiled eagerly at Andromalius as he stood behind the empress, even going so far as to giving him a small curtsey by drawing out the sides of her robe. “As you wish, my lord.” And with that her attention turned fully to the drawn, emaciated face seated in the center of the room. Like a cat stalking her prey, Sphynx slowly drew forward, not taking her eyes from the unlucky victim. She always wondered what went through their heads in this moment, which was about to be her last. Did anyone ever really see their whole life flash before them like a bad play, or was it more likely that they thought about all the things they didn’t get to do yet? Maybe someday she would think to ask one of the souls she brought back. But her mind now was focused on the act of death, not rebirth. There were so many ways that this could be done, but she had had quite some time to dwell on methods and now her actions were all planned out. She used two separate spells intertwined; one that harmed and one that healed. She used her own energy for the healing spell; dangerous, but things would turn out more fun this way. The shadows within the room quivered and shrank as Sphynx drew their darkness towards her, fashioning them into a beam with an end that boasted five points that made it slightly resemble a hand. The shadow hand raked towards the empress and began clawing its way through the center of her chest. The woman began screaming and moaning in agony one minute, and the next she was barely panting before the screaming started up again. The healing spell that Sphynx intertwined with the darkness made the pain intermittent, blocking the body’s own natural ability to numb itself against the hurt. The ‘hand’ at the end of the darkness continued on its path, and sharp cracks rent the air as it broke through the bones of the ribcage. The empress gave a particularly horrifying scream as her sternum cracked, but then she was numbed momentarily. With a final shove the darkness lay bare the woman’s chest, giving everyone present a perfect glimpse of her still beating heart before surrounding it completely. The spell severed all ties the organ had with the body before collapsing, and with it the healing spell also died. Sphynx’s own breath was growing thin as she reached forth a hand to draw out the object. Always one with a flair for the dramatic, she didn’t mind that she had to force her hand to remain steady as she looked down at what she now held within it. The heart lay in her palm, blood still warm against her flesh as its redness slowly dripped down her wrist. “I assume that will be enough to get the job done?” She didn’t even notice that her own voice was a bit quieter than usual, a bit thinner. Yet the glitter remained in her eyes as she smirked once more at Andromalius. |
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| Ashes | Nov 1 2009, 11:24 AM Post #10 |
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The resounding smack that echoed through the ominous room was accompanied by the turn of her head. As soon as the back of his hand had collided with her features, her hair had turned crimson. It started at the roots, sliding down like dripping ink. Her head had turned on her neck, eyes wider than normal for nor more than a split second before the mad girl's reaction started. Low at first, light under-her-breath mirth before it grew, laughter spilling out her lips despite the situation and the stinging tenderness of a forming bruise. She leaned her head back as she laughed, hair falling back as the bloody light painted her a monster, green eyes flashing as the dull cold sound fell from her mouth, the feeling from it more like slitting throats and burning buildings than bonfires and jokes. Quite different from the normal sound, it was no doubt Andromalius would know now of her odd affliction: To react with mirth to things like pain, fear, and depression. Finally the little sicko settled, eyes falling on Sphynx and at spying the other's sadistic grin her lips twitched and then curved into an odd smile, that typical I-know-a-secret look before she turned idly back to the future corpse in her chair. The smile didn't fade, it wasn't plastic or false, but legitimate amusement now. There was an excited sort of childishness in the way she waited with baited breath. This woman did not disappoint and if Andromalius was so attached to her she must be a formidable force, and even if she was not so inclined as to fear or hate the woman, she certainly was interesting, and Ashes was eager to see how she would choose to execute the former authority. Tarot swooped around her, his tail twisting in a serpentine fashion around her form. Sphynx had a quality to her like a stalking feline, and the empress her unwitting prey. Her shadow trembled, clinging to the bottoms of her feet as the lady of the tower drew forth the darkness, forming something that resembled a limb, which then set to clawing and ripping at royalties chest. Ashes heart fluttered, the way one does when a sweetheart passes. Her and death were long lost lovers, and the violence before her made the foggy memories of before creep back into her mind. Green eyes, full of mother's love, and screaming. Ashes' hand flew, touching the inverted cross above her pulse. Yes, a pulse that proved she was alive. Her own was uneven, a beat skipped on a whim and then a sudden quickening beneath her fingertips. Ashes smile widened, she stared unwaveringly at the writhing wench with hunger evident in the poison green. Something went on behind those eyes, the hunger replaced with what could only be called tender fondness. The voices of little children shrieking, screaming, crying. Mother- mother is singing a lullaby, holding me, Ashes can not see her through some darkness, there is no breath in her body, Ashes can not even feel her arms but she knows she is there. Ashes heart matched the dying royalties, almost visible now as her flesh was stripped away. There was a sudden crack as her rib cage split open. There was a sudden jerking inside her, and it hurt at first. Where had sweet peaceful death gone? Suddenly tender internal flesh was visible, the secret gears kept locked inside, now bared before their eyes while the woman continued to scream, an octave higher. Tarot flew around Ashes still, the whip tail inches from her skin but she could not look away. Her nature was changing- there was that strange jerking again, and again, a rapid heartbeat forming as cries were silenced and the sound of a lance piercing flesh and children shrieking louder. A symphony of agony and fear to welcome her into reality. Still there was a gentle murmur, a soothing sound. The hot muscle was ripped from its home in the body, still beating, a frantic pulse before all ties were quickly severed, blood pooled on the floor beneath the chair, inky darkness in the crimson light from the glass above. The darkness pressed in and that weird jolting in her chest continued. Reaching up through the thick liquid she felt something hard, some barrier. She pushed, it held. She pushed harder, it held still. Suddenly her legs jerked, a her heels hitting a barrier as well before a large split ran up the darkness, visible through her eyelids. Her hands pushed again, and the split widened and spread. Suddenly the warm liquid she was engulfed in spilled out, to the floor- what was this? Coldness made her trembled. The heart in Sphynx's outstretched hand, the smell of thick hot blood running down her wrist. Ashes tongue slid, licking her lips as she swayed slightly, eyes fixed. Tarot let out a sound that sounded much too big for his form, an ethereal cry as Ashes swayed. She had stopped breathing suddenly, as soon as death had graced the room, and still her smile didn't fade. Eyes opened for the first time, to see the edges of the black egg shell she had split. Wet and cold the infant was uncannily developed, turning her head to look around. The corpses of children lay across the floor, countless, magical items and archaic symbols on the floor and walls and ceiling of- she did not know what it was then but now it must've been a cave. A hand, clawed, picked an eggshell from her wet but already full head of hair. Green eyes turned up at the feeling, meeting matching poisonous eyes. “Hello, Ashes.” Long long red hair, hanging down around her, tickling her face. Suddenly Ashes drew a deep breath, the infants first as it stung her lungs but like an addiction she could not stop. As a baby she had not cried, but instead laughed with her first breath. The fire lizards tail whipped out around Ashes body, curling around her waist as his wings beat, holding her up as she found her breath again, eyes flashing. She'd always been able to alter the color of her hair but not it fell to her lower back, curls that cascaded, red and natural. Ashes suddenly laughed, grabbing the tail and writing herself before she shook winced, the sickness crept down her arm with sudden swiftness, overwhelming the full upper half of her arm, beyond the reach of the bandages. She felt her eyes try to roll but resisted, laughing again, a hollow horrible sound. Death was gone, in all its peaceful dreaming, but something was sure: As her heart beat, as her lungs drew air, she was dying a little more every moment. Or, at least, was trying. Ashes shook her head a little, Tarot landing across her shoulders when the mad girl finally seemed stable, breathing, heart beat slowing. She eyed the heart in Sphynx's hand, as if nothing at all had happened to her mind. Her hair fell in her face and she looked annoyed. Suddenly it was short again, color switching back to the hot pink. She looked over at Andromalius, smiling a little, “So do I get to see what that damn ball thing does now?” there was no disrespect in her voice, but comfortable familiarity in her tone. A punishing strike to the face would not dissuade such a sense. As it was she had deserved it and, even more, she knew he could've done much worse had he chosen. |
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| Andromalius | Nov 1 2009, 03:39 PM Post #11 |
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"As you wish, my lord..." echoed in the Empress's head repeatedly, knowing now the face and the voice of who was to be her executioner. It sent a chill down her spine, but she remained composed. She'd had endless days to come to terms with what would to become of her, and death was far more easily accepted than other alternatives she had imagined. All she had left now was her dignity, and gods willing, she would cling tenaciously to it till the very end. Hopeless eyes raised to lock onto her executioner's. She stared into Sphynx with stony defiance, allowing her to know that no matter what she does, she can shred her body apart, but they would never be able to kill her soul. It was her's, and her's alone, and it would go on seeking retribution even after her heart no longer beat. "The Eye of Zanna," Andromalius began as he would a song, quietly, slowly building. "Zanna is the last known Goddess of Death that came with the immigrants eons ago. Who-so-ever controls her eye may bleed life from all of Elenlond in whichever way her gaze is cast." As he began to explain the item, the Empress choked while her flesh was torn from her nerves, blood rising up her throat to spill out into a red mess within the general vicinity. The gurgling that followed was subdued, eyelids fluttering shut. All the pain did was fuel her hatred. In a way, it made her feel more at ease. Still, nothing could slow the adrenaline now which was coursing through her like a how fire serpent. "The catch is..." The Banshee King lowered his head to hover beside her's, grinning madly. "...It may only be activated by the sacrifice of a life-loving soul. Your Highness, I'd like to thank you for being here for me when I needed you most." The once closed eyes shot open, a look of horror on her face that physical pain could never create. At her last moment, he stripped her of everything. Her head fell back, lungs full of air around the exposed still-beating heart, and through the blood thick within her throat, she cried out, shrieking in defeat with her last once of strength. Once the organ left her body, she was finished. Andromalius cast a glance at Ashes, witnessing her minor transformation and her hysterics as she steadily gained control again. "Yes, now you get to see." His eyes left the girl and replaced themselves upon Sphynx, mouth stretching half an inch on either side as what appeared to be white mist begin rising, like steam, from the late Empress. It collected into a hovering cloud before being sucked into the inanimate, shiny black object in his hands. Beginning to feel the sensation of feeding, the orb came to life, surrounded by a burst of black light as the apparent soul found its new home within the prison, forming a white iris inside of the otherwise black eye. The ground began to pulse, the eye took on life and scanned the room, lastly landing upon the person who held it. Andromalius raised it to the air, and as his hand lowered, it did not follow. Another pulse rang out beneath their feet, like some enormous monster come to devour them. With each pulse, the vegetation and small animal life around the tower withered and fell. "The eye has been cast upon all of Soare. It will not stop until I command it, or until it is destroyed, so it will remain here at the top of the tower as a beacon of hopelessness to all who oppose. This is what is does, Little One." He turned his head to Ashes as he left his post from beneath the orb floating high in the center of the room, still blazing with the light of dark magic. "Now, my dear," upon arrival beside Sphynx, he wrapped an arm around her waist and looked down upon the lifeless heart. "...All that is left to do is enjoy the show. Shall we?" |
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| Sphynx | Nov 12 2009, 09:02 PM Post #12 |
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All-Knowing Mod of Elly
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The organ held within her hand still felt warm as life left it in the form of blood rolling down her arm and pooling onto the floor. The body of the empress sat lifeless before her, but Sphynx had little care for the thing now. Eventually she would sew up the seams, but no one would notice the scars from underneath any clothing. The body could be a useful asset someday, but for now there were more important things to be done. As if coming out of a trance, her eyes finally lifted from the heart that she held and moved to Ashes, who seemed to have just caught her breath. Normally Sphynx would have taken that as a sign that the girl’s breath was taken away by her own performance, but instead she felt her eyes narrow as she looked at the child. She could see small black lines drawing themselves down from the edges of the wrapping on her arm. What was that, another excuse to get people to pay attention to her? Apparently the little flying bug around her shoulders wasn’t good enough for that. She couldn’t believe that the girl had the gall to speak in asking about the orb, yet foolishness appeared to be another of her charming traits. Ignoring Ashes, for Sphynx didn’t think that the other girl deserved her words, she turned her gaze towards her King, where it softened slightly. Now came the true moment that she had been waiting for. Of course the act of killing itself had been of great interest to her, but this was different. Her hand lowered, though her fingers still kept its grip on the flesh the she held, and she watched in an almost awed silence as the orb was activated by the life of the now dead empress. The eye awoke. It looked at each of them in turn before Andromalius lifted it up into its new place of honor. She could feel the immense power created by the object deep inside her bones, thrumming and pulsing with every death it doled out. It was like her heartbeat had gained a dance partner with perfect rhythm, one who had the ability to draw her very heart from her body. It was truly beautiful. She half listened to Andromalius’ explanation of the orb’s power, though she already knew what it could do. She felt the empress’s heart slip from her fingertips and fall into the blood pooled on the floor, and she made no attempt to stop it. It did not matter any more. All that mattered was the next step, the next goal to complete. As his arm slipped around her waist, she couldn’t help but lift herself onto her toes to brush her lips lightly on his cheek. “You know how I love a good show.” |
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