(This is a collaborated SL. Most of this was done over IMs with three differing people, and was edited into post format, so....It might not make sense from time to time. But I tried to edit it all nice, so hopefully it won't be too twisty-confusing. This entire SL takes place in Renna's home realm, and does not take place in Rhy'Din. If you want to be in on the SL, don't hesitate to PM me and ask how we can work you in!)
(WARNING!!! This post will contain scenes of violence and a few other things some people may find offensive. Please do not read if you just don't like that kind of crap. However. If you are somewhat evil, twisted, and into that whole thing then please do read on.)
(Also, typos will be removed once spotted. I'm lazy.)
Pandora's Parabox
Introduction
"People who"claim"that they're evil are usually no worse than the rest of us....It's people who claim that they're good, or any way better than the rest of us, that you have to be wary of.?"- Gregory Maguire
The sprawling manor house constructed from ancient, Northlandarian cut grey-stone was decorated with a degree of twisted elegance in the form of large, red coloured stained glass windows that depicted a varying score of mythical creatures of the realm in a wide variety of circumstances; from Wyverns feasting morbidly upon the carcasses of humans, to even a band of Orks razing a village to the ground. The construction of the structure " Gothic and old in its appearance, gave a rather eerie ambiance to this particular chilly Winter's night, complete with clear, starry skies and with a wind drifting as light as a feather but has freezing as a cadaver's rigour mortis ridden grasp.
Two moons; whose purpose was to be as the backdrop for tonight's event, shone almost as brightly as the sun during the day with their combined efforts, lighting the way for two skulking shadowy figures that approached the manor from the south. Their infiltration onto the grounds was an easy task, for there was no perimeter wall to keep them out or even guards to prevent their advance. Soon enough, the two cloaked figures became consumed within the blackness of the manor's overcasting shadow that stretched across a sizeable portion of the neatly kept, pristine courtyard garden of which they now occupied, hidden out of sight behind a low lying hedge; crushing underfoot a once beautifully maintained bed of red roses.
As they surveyed the manor whilst within its shadowy gloom, the two intruders released a series of hand gestures, while their heads bobbed up and down as they seemingly understood each other's complicated and somewhat over exaggerated silent form of communication. Then, as quietly as they arrived, they broke apart, each going to their own end of the manor, searching for a stealthier means of breaking in, rather than charging in through the front door.
Of course, they were not the only creatures stirring that night. For this manor, was always strangely more active during the evening, than the daytime. Deep within the manor house " and within its rather large kitchen, were two maids slaving away over a hot stove of vegetable stew. As you would expect of a country manor and its rather aristocratic owner, these women were dressed to what exactly you might expect a maid to be, with plain black dresses, complete with white aprons with a trim of frills about the edges. A simple set of black shoes and a white lace neck scarf were to complete their everyday uniform.
Whilst one stirred the stew dangling over the fire to prevent its contents from sticking to the cast iron pot, the other was arranging a golden goblet and a bottle of dusty unlabelled wine upon a bronze and pristinely polished tray on the other side of the kitchen. Despite their work relationship " having served this house for eight years now, these two dark haired beauties rarely spoke to each other. Although both of these women were humans, they were somehow....Robotic in their movements.
Their thoughtfully carried motions with perfected purpose could had been quite unnerving to a casual observer, if you take into consideration that their faces were a perfect picture of an expressionless mask, their eyes half lidded and glazed over with an unnatural calm, as if hypnotized or under the influence of a mind numbing drug.
The maid that tended to the tray, grasped the vessel lightly in her thin, feminine fingers and swiftly departed the kitchen, heading out into a long hallway that eventually opened out into the foyer, where the stairs to the second level curved its way on side of the room, close to the front, heavy oaken door. Each step she took upon the cold marble floor across the foyer, released a click as her heels clipped against it, and echoed quite merrily in the dead of the night.
She ascended the stairs, her chocolate brown eyes still focusing beyond the veil of this mortal coil, and not where she was going. Despite her seemingly apparent unawareness of her surroundings, the maid was quite adept at traversing the manor even with her eyes closed. Eight years of servitude, doing the same chores every day, has firmly cemented the manor's layout within her mind. She barely had to be conscious to do her work. Her body's autopilot, was a well oiled machine.
Upon the landing at the top of the stairs, she entered into a door on her left, opening up to yet another hallway that stretched down the spine of the manor's second floor. As she travelled down this marble paved path, the doors to her left and right were all guest or servant rooms, and of course, at the very end of the hallway stood the door to the Master's bedroom, to which she was heading.
But something caught her attention. She stopped a couple of feet away from her destination, and turned to look back down the hallway, having thought she heard footsteps other than her own close by. But there was nothing. Dismissing the noise as yet another part of the manor settling in " perhaps one of the structural beams within the floor or the roof, she took just one footstep more before the noise came once again. But this time from within a guest room just to her right.
Finally, some kind of response came from the maid.
"Miss?" She half figured it to be their guest wandering about. Perhaps lost. All the guest rooms do look exactly the same after all....But she was pretty sure that the woman's room was much closer to the stairs; back down the way she came, rather than in the direction of her Master's bedroom. "Miss?" She called out again, approaching the door, noting that it was slightly ajar. "If you require assistance Miss, I would be happy to help."
Pushing open the door, the maid barely made it into the room before something came from behind her, and pushed her in. She fell flat on her face, while the sudden forward momentum had slung her tray and its contents across the room. The wine bottle had struck the wall and shattered, spraying the Bloodwyne all over the stone wall and marble floor, while the goblet landed right next to the maid's head.
The dazed and confused expression was lost upon the maid, as a familiar expression of confusion and terror transformed her calm demeanour into a shivering mass of nerves as she turned to witness her assailant; a cloaked man looming over her, brandishing a large silver stake. That weapon had caught the maid's eye, and she opened her mouth to scream not for her own benefit, but to at the very least warn the Master that someone was here evidentially to take his life.
Not a single sound could make it past those beautiful pale lips. A strong, calloused hand had firmly clamped shut any hope of that. Gagging her, the assassin wasted little time to clean up his mess. He mounted her, and stabbed the silver stake down into the maid's chest repeatedly until the sound of her screams vibrating against his palm had ceased, and blood bubbled up between his fingers.
He stood up, and wiped the blood off his stake and onto his cloak, taking one last glance down at the dead maid, and the sheer terror still frozen upon her face. The Lysanderian man gave a soft gesture of his hand towards the corpse, and bowed his head. "Forgive me." He muttered. "May you rest peacefully, Bloodslave..."
"Stop tha' religious Lysanderi' crap and let's finish the job. It's jus' a Bloodslave.." A voice muttered from behind him.
He turned to see his comrade standing within the doorway, and noted that his silver stake was also covered in blood. "Did you take care of the guest?"
"Nah....All tha' guest rooms a' empty....Who cares 'bout th' guest. Let's kill th' bloodsucker an' get th' reward."
The Lysanderian eyed his bloodied stake. He figured he knew whose blood it belonged. "....There was no reason to kill the other maid downstairs."
"Pffft....Tha' thralls. Mindless soulless humans....Tha' ain' no life. Though' it'd be better t' make 'em dead.'"
The Lysanderian took one last glance at the maid he had silenced, and then back to his companion. With nothing else to be said the two assassins left and headed for the master bedroom, each holding their stakes at the ready.
They were going to take out a high ranking Bloodstone Family member. They were going to make history " they were going to take the life of an ancient Vampire that had taken countless of innocent lives, and sent countless more to their deaths for their petty in-family feuds.
As they approached the door, their walking speed increased. They were going to breach the door, and rush the Vampire before he had any clue as to what was happening, and drive one stake into his heart, and one into his head for good measure. This was why this was a two man job. They had to make certain the Vampire was dead quick and fast. There was no room for error. Two fatal wounds with silver stakes to the body should surely end this ancient one's reign of bloodied terror.
Before they could breach the door with a swift boot to the lock, the door had unexpectedly swung open. Both men were startled, and it rooted their approach. With the Lysanderian at the front, he was the first to break off into a sudden sprint into the master bedroom - his stake held high above his head, ready and willing to take on the powerful creature of the night....Only to find....
Nothing.
He paused, dumbfounded within the middle of the room as he looked all around him. The Vampire was nowhere to be seen. The king sized bed was untouched, and the fire in the hearth seemed lifeless. No one was home. "This can't be....He's supposed to be here..."
"Where th' bloody 'ell is he"!" The other man stood within the door way, tense and ready " coiled like a snake, ready to strike out at anything.
"F*ck....We have to get out of here. Our intelligence must had been wrong. Maybe he isn't even here..." The Lysanderian turned and kicked the bedpost, the frustration evident upon his face. "F*ck. How the hell could this happen....They must had been expecting us " they must had," he turned, to regard his companion, and paled.
A woman was standing behind him.
A woman, with metallic claws.
It was too late.
Before he could scream his companion's name, the man guarding the doorway was hurled up into the air by an array of writhing shadowy tentacles growing from the shoulders of the woman with the metal claws. The writhing tendrils wrapped and curled about his friend's limbs " breaking the bones and twisted them into all kinds of unnatural contortions before systematically ripping off his arms, his legs, and then finally, his head.
It all happened so fast. Blood was everywhere and the man that was now in pieces barely had time to scream. The naked woman that stood in the doorway was simply covered in head to toe in the blood and gore of the Lysanderian's now dead companion assassin, silently staring ahead with one single, glowing blood red eye, carefully stepping over twitching body parts, and slowly making her way towards him....
He had never seen such a sight. In all his years of murdering those he was told to, he had never witnessed such a display of emotionless brutality. While he drove himself to stand his ground, and attempt to formulate some kind of escape plan, terror had gripped him, and it was not letting him get away.
"W-What....Are....Y-you?"
A single shadowy tendril slammed the door shut.
A chuckling, amused reply, had soon entered his head. As if a set of lips whispered in either ear.
~Hungry.~
The Lysanderian's screams did not last for long.
(Also, typos will be removed once spotted. I'm lazy.)
Pandora's Parabox
Introduction
"People who"claim"that they're evil are usually no worse than the rest of us....It's people who claim that they're good, or any way better than the rest of us, that you have to be wary of.?"- Gregory Maguire
The sprawling manor house constructed from ancient, Northlandarian cut grey-stone was decorated with a degree of twisted elegance in the form of large, red coloured stained glass windows that depicted a varying score of mythical creatures of the realm in a wide variety of circumstances; from Wyverns feasting morbidly upon the carcasses of humans, to even a band of Orks razing a village to the ground. The construction of the structure " Gothic and old in its appearance, gave a rather eerie ambiance to this particular chilly Winter's night, complete with clear, starry skies and with a wind drifting as light as a feather but has freezing as a cadaver's rigour mortis ridden grasp.
Two moons; whose purpose was to be as the backdrop for tonight's event, shone almost as brightly as the sun during the day with their combined efforts, lighting the way for two skulking shadowy figures that approached the manor from the south. Their infiltration onto the grounds was an easy task, for there was no perimeter wall to keep them out or even guards to prevent their advance. Soon enough, the two cloaked figures became consumed within the blackness of the manor's overcasting shadow that stretched across a sizeable portion of the neatly kept, pristine courtyard garden of which they now occupied, hidden out of sight behind a low lying hedge; crushing underfoot a once beautifully maintained bed of red roses.
As they surveyed the manor whilst within its shadowy gloom, the two intruders released a series of hand gestures, while their heads bobbed up and down as they seemingly understood each other's complicated and somewhat over exaggerated silent form of communication. Then, as quietly as they arrived, they broke apart, each going to their own end of the manor, searching for a stealthier means of breaking in, rather than charging in through the front door.
Of course, they were not the only creatures stirring that night. For this manor, was always strangely more active during the evening, than the daytime. Deep within the manor house " and within its rather large kitchen, were two maids slaving away over a hot stove of vegetable stew. As you would expect of a country manor and its rather aristocratic owner, these women were dressed to what exactly you might expect a maid to be, with plain black dresses, complete with white aprons with a trim of frills about the edges. A simple set of black shoes and a white lace neck scarf were to complete their everyday uniform.
Whilst one stirred the stew dangling over the fire to prevent its contents from sticking to the cast iron pot, the other was arranging a golden goblet and a bottle of dusty unlabelled wine upon a bronze and pristinely polished tray on the other side of the kitchen. Despite their work relationship " having served this house for eight years now, these two dark haired beauties rarely spoke to each other. Although both of these women were humans, they were somehow....Robotic in their movements.
Their thoughtfully carried motions with perfected purpose could had been quite unnerving to a casual observer, if you take into consideration that their faces were a perfect picture of an expressionless mask, their eyes half lidded and glazed over with an unnatural calm, as if hypnotized or under the influence of a mind numbing drug.
The maid that tended to the tray, grasped the vessel lightly in her thin, feminine fingers and swiftly departed the kitchen, heading out into a long hallway that eventually opened out into the foyer, where the stairs to the second level curved its way on side of the room, close to the front, heavy oaken door. Each step she took upon the cold marble floor across the foyer, released a click as her heels clipped against it, and echoed quite merrily in the dead of the night.
She ascended the stairs, her chocolate brown eyes still focusing beyond the veil of this mortal coil, and not where she was going. Despite her seemingly apparent unawareness of her surroundings, the maid was quite adept at traversing the manor even with her eyes closed. Eight years of servitude, doing the same chores every day, has firmly cemented the manor's layout within her mind. She barely had to be conscious to do her work. Her body's autopilot, was a well oiled machine.
Upon the landing at the top of the stairs, she entered into a door on her left, opening up to yet another hallway that stretched down the spine of the manor's second floor. As she travelled down this marble paved path, the doors to her left and right were all guest or servant rooms, and of course, at the very end of the hallway stood the door to the Master's bedroom, to which she was heading.
But something caught her attention. She stopped a couple of feet away from her destination, and turned to look back down the hallway, having thought she heard footsteps other than her own close by. But there was nothing. Dismissing the noise as yet another part of the manor settling in " perhaps one of the structural beams within the floor or the roof, she took just one footstep more before the noise came once again. But this time from within a guest room just to her right.
Finally, some kind of response came from the maid.
"Miss?" She half figured it to be their guest wandering about. Perhaps lost. All the guest rooms do look exactly the same after all....But she was pretty sure that the woman's room was much closer to the stairs; back down the way she came, rather than in the direction of her Master's bedroom. "Miss?" She called out again, approaching the door, noting that it was slightly ajar. "If you require assistance Miss, I would be happy to help."
Pushing open the door, the maid barely made it into the room before something came from behind her, and pushed her in. She fell flat on her face, while the sudden forward momentum had slung her tray and its contents across the room. The wine bottle had struck the wall and shattered, spraying the Bloodwyne all over the stone wall and marble floor, while the goblet landed right next to the maid's head.
The dazed and confused expression was lost upon the maid, as a familiar expression of confusion and terror transformed her calm demeanour into a shivering mass of nerves as she turned to witness her assailant; a cloaked man looming over her, brandishing a large silver stake. That weapon had caught the maid's eye, and she opened her mouth to scream not for her own benefit, but to at the very least warn the Master that someone was here evidentially to take his life.
Not a single sound could make it past those beautiful pale lips. A strong, calloused hand had firmly clamped shut any hope of that. Gagging her, the assassin wasted little time to clean up his mess. He mounted her, and stabbed the silver stake down into the maid's chest repeatedly until the sound of her screams vibrating against his palm had ceased, and blood bubbled up between his fingers.
He stood up, and wiped the blood off his stake and onto his cloak, taking one last glance down at the dead maid, and the sheer terror still frozen upon her face. The Lysanderian man gave a soft gesture of his hand towards the corpse, and bowed his head. "Forgive me." He muttered. "May you rest peacefully, Bloodslave..."
"Stop tha' religious Lysanderi' crap and let's finish the job. It's jus' a Bloodslave.." A voice muttered from behind him.
He turned to see his comrade standing within the doorway, and noted that his silver stake was also covered in blood. "Did you take care of the guest?"
"Nah....All tha' guest rooms a' empty....Who cares 'bout th' guest. Let's kill th' bloodsucker an' get th' reward."
The Lysanderian eyed his bloodied stake. He figured he knew whose blood it belonged. "....There was no reason to kill the other maid downstairs."
"Pffft....Tha' thralls. Mindless soulless humans....Tha' ain' no life. Though' it'd be better t' make 'em dead.'"
The Lysanderian took one last glance at the maid he had silenced, and then back to his companion. With nothing else to be said the two assassins left and headed for the master bedroom, each holding their stakes at the ready.
They were going to take out a high ranking Bloodstone Family member. They were going to make history " they were going to take the life of an ancient Vampire that had taken countless of innocent lives, and sent countless more to their deaths for their petty in-family feuds.
As they approached the door, their walking speed increased. They were going to breach the door, and rush the Vampire before he had any clue as to what was happening, and drive one stake into his heart, and one into his head for good measure. This was why this was a two man job. They had to make certain the Vampire was dead quick and fast. There was no room for error. Two fatal wounds with silver stakes to the body should surely end this ancient one's reign of bloodied terror.
Before they could breach the door with a swift boot to the lock, the door had unexpectedly swung open. Both men were startled, and it rooted their approach. With the Lysanderian at the front, he was the first to break off into a sudden sprint into the master bedroom - his stake held high above his head, ready and willing to take on the powerful creature of the night....Only to find....
Nothing.
He paused, dumbfounded within the middle of the room as he looked all around him. The Vampire was nowhere to be seen. The king sized bed was untouched, and the fire in the hearth seemed lifeless. No one was home. "This can't be....He's supposed to be here..."
"Where th' bloody 'ell is he"!" The other man stood within the door way, tense and ready " coiled like a snake, ready to strike out at anything.
"F*ck....We have to get out of here. Our intelligence must had been wrong. Maybe he isn't even here..." The Lysanderian turned and kicked the bedpost, the frustration evident upon his face. "F*ck. How the hell could this happen....They must had been expecting us " they must had," he turned, to regard his companion, and paled.
A woman was standing behind him.
A woman, with metallic claws.
It was too late.
Before he could scream his companion's name, the man guarding the doorway was hurled up into the air by an array of writhing shadowy tentacles growing from the shoulders of the woman with the metal claws. The writhing tendrils wrapped and curled about his friend's limbs " breaking the bones and twisted them into all kinds of unnatural contortions before systematically ripping off his arms, his legs, and then finally, his head.
It all happened so fast. Blood was everywhere and the man that was now in pieces barely had time to scream. The naked woman that stood in the doorway was simply covered in head to toe in the blood and gore of the Lysanderian's now dead companion assassin, silently staring ahead with one single, glowing blood red eye, carefully stepping over twitching body parts, and slowly making her way towards him....
He had never seen such a sight. In all his years of murdering those he was told to, he had never witnessed such a display of emotionless brutality. While he drove himself to stand his ground, and attempt to formulate some kind of escape plan, terror had gripped him, and it was not letting him get away.
"W-What....Are....Y-you?"
A single shadowy tendril slammed the door shut.
A chuckling, amused reply, had soon entered his head. As if a set of lips whispered in either ear.
~Hungry.~
The Lysanderian's screams did not last for long.