Topic: The Tale of the Slaughter

Oracle

Date: 2005-07-16 08:09 EST
That last blinding flash of lightning had brought him to shut his hues, clenching them in pain. There was an aweful burning sensation within the back of his skull, slowly spreading through out his bodies. The first to be affected were the backs of his hands, via tendrils of darkness slowly snaking out, enveloping the surrounding skin and marking it. "W-what is this"!" he managed to blurt out just as he found himself crippling over in pain. His hands shot to the packed earth, attempting to dig in. They clawed, fingernails ripping free and giving way to those tendrils. That farmer looked up to the mid-eve sun setting just over the horizon, the back of his his left shirt sleeve wiping sweat from his brow. It had been a long days works, but it was finally coming to an end. He heaved up his hoe one last time, only to be halted the moment before he plunged it down to finish off the trench he was working on. He found his mouth agape, and his eyes examining a sword, around a half foot wide and two inches thick, jammed through his chest...He could not speak, nor move due to shock. "The killing has begun, and shall continue through the night" came that slow, velvety soft voice. The sword slid free, and a heavy boot was put to the small of the back, kicking the farmer over. The huts were ablaze that night, the peoples screams and words falling upon that mans deaf ears. His heart new no mercy, his eyes showed no fear. He killed them all off one by one. The women, the children, the elders and leaders. It was down to the last few left, and he knew just how to take these out. His heavy right boot fell upon the smoldering ashes of what was left of the enterance to the small villages Elder Hut. The embers rose up, swirling about this figure, his bulking muscles tensing quickly, drawing these embers in upon his blade was no easy task and took a rather good bit of courage. That massive sword of his took on an un-earthly glow, and his legs sent him hurtaling forward towards the last group of towns-people. He was halted short by the reflection of fire off of anothers blade. It came at him quickly, striking him across the back of his head sending him crashing to the hardened earth. He was quick to raise up, turning upon the one who dared to come at him. A sneer was made, and the voice spilled from the mouth "You truly think you can come between me and my goal"!" He rushed forth at this man. He found himself curmpled over in a fit of pain, gasping for air as the remaining elders of the village peered down upon him. "You demon." "You brute!" "You pile of worthless flesh!" "You are here-by banished from this village and its people!" "You are to never step foot within these woods again!" "You are from this point on cursed with the mark of the ill-of-fate!" He awoke with a start, his tribal-marked right hand rubbing at his face. The light caught ahold of him through the canopy of the trees, showing the marks...They covered him from head to toe. His hair was matted down, crimson in color. Same as his right hue, the left gray and lifeless due impart to his past. He reached over to the sword, six foot in length, have foot wide, and eyed it. Ghastly heavy weapon, cost him so much pain..."I'll never be rid of this curse, nor of you my friend...Demon they called me, and a demon I shall be till the day I die..."