Topic: Revisiting the Worship of Death

Lord Ayreg

Date: 2007-02-14 22:35 EST
This particular day, of this particular month, always held something special for lovers. The gift of a rose, a ring, a bauble; the favor of a kiss, or the promise of matrimony. It's called by various names in various places, but for a worshipper of the Nihil, it holds a special meaning. Valentine's Day, Love Night-- whatever called by whoever enjoyed it, this was a night demanding a sacrifice to the dark gods.

But that was then.

One year ago this night, Jodiah Ayreg had left the Red Dragon Inn with a bottle of wine, and used it to lure a lonely woman to his side where he committed a heinous act of murder upon her. He did this with reverence - it was the very highest, most important day in the life of a Nihilian. Ayreg, one year ago, fulfilled his obligations, and left that woman to die.

He was a follower of the Nihil no longer.

It had been some months since Ayreg had cast off the burden of Malfeas, ironically with the 'assistance' of Garen Corlagon. That memory still was there in his head. Ayreg was a man accustomed to pain, but the suffering he felt under the searing jet of ethereal green flame was like nothing he had ever felt before.

Jodiah Ayreg screamed, full-throated, as the Balefire wrapped itself around his body like liquid metal. He could feel every hair on his body as if they were tiny daggers, he could feel his skin ripping, shredding, cracking and peeling off his aged, battle-scarred form.

This night was going to be like any other. It was a night for those who had already grown together as a couple, and Jodiah - for better or for worse - had not. Not in any kind of capacity that he could understand, let alone come to know and embrace and call his own.

And you say that love conquers all? Well not for you, and not for me.

Not for any of the heartbroken.

And so it was that Ayreg was on the road this night, in Rhy'Din. He had taken a few days leave of Rhilshen to attend to business. Evidentially, something had come up at Taiva, and Dulmor, the capable but quirky Seneschal, required His Lordship's counsel. Counsel given, he traveled upon the well-worn road leading back north to Rhy'Din City. From there, he would journey through the city, possibly stopping at the Red Dragon for a warming tankard of ale, before taking the North Road up to the mountain pass, and then turning east back to Alysia's manor at Dark Lake, and so return to his responsibilities in Rhilshen.

He was bored, and it was cold. With his aging black cloak -- the first true piece of clothing he was able to afford after his awakening in the ruins of Doomhammer Keep far, far, far to the south, in the blasted lands of the great desert -- wrapped tightly around him, the hood drawn up atop his head, Ayreg had started to make a game of counting the hairs running down Harpy's crest.

It was the only thing he could think of to do on such a quiet, lonely night.

A noise had caused him to turn his head. It sounded like the faint call of birds, somewhere off to his right. Hardly a thing for concern, though many bandits communicated to each other with the sound of birdcalls. It was for this reason that Jodiah's head remained leveled with the brush along the side of the path, one hand upon the Flaydskin hilt of Frost Brand, and watched for anything unusual.

Wait. There...

The underbrush was thick, but there was a spot where it looked like someone had passed through. Beaten down, dragged down; perhaps a traveling merchant's wagon had fallen out of control and toppled down onto the bushes.

The bird cried again, louder this time, sustained and pitched.

Ayreg clicked his tongue and pulled Harpy's reins, and the mare whickered in subtle protest. Vivid green eyes tick-tocked left and right, watching the brush, peering down the path that someone had made off the road, and listening to the whipping roar of the wind.

Wait.

Nothing.

Wait...

Nothing.

Wait......

There it was. The call of that bird again. Only this time, the wind had changed directions, and blew impotently against the back of his hooded head. His ears weren't filled, then, with the howl of the moving air. He could make out that call clearly. And it wasn't a bird.

It was a piercing human scream.

Perhaps Ayreg had grown soft. Perhaps there was a spark of Paladin left in him, one that demanded he at least investigate what was going on before he abandoned them to their fate. Perhaps that single moment in a snowy street last winter, where he had intervened and, so, saved the life of Alysia Skye had made an impact on him.

Whatever it was that caused him to do it, he couldn't say. He pulled sharply to the right on Harpy's reins and, with a swift kick into the horse's flanks, answered by an enraged scream from the mare herself, he launched off like a nocked arrow into the treeline.

Lord Ayreg

Date: 2007-02-14 23:27 EST
Horses were slowed by forested terrain, but the pace was still quick. Tree limbs and branches lashed at his face as he galloped forward, pulling the reins this way and that to dodge trees and boulders and rocks and pits. A horse could break a leg in these rough lands, and the last thing he truly wanted was to have to kill his rare, exotic breed of horse.

Blood crept down his face from a reed-thin branch cutting his cheek, but he pressed on. He didn't know why, but he felt the urgent need to discover what the source of the cry was. As he grew nearer, following the beaten path into the wilds outside of Rhy'Din City, he could hear the anguished scream more clearly. It was the cry of a woman, he had decided, marking the information in his head with all the stoicism of a surgeon cutting into someone's chest.

Abruptly, Harpy came to a sliding stop, lifting onto her hind legs and screaming protest, thrashing with her front legs and turning. It was everything Ayreg could do to keep his saddle, rising to put all of his weight onto the stirrups and leaning forward heavily. When the horse came down, it took three steps back, and screamed again, shaking her head fiercely.

Jodiah dismounted, and tied her reins around the trunk of a thick tree. She wasn't happy, but at least she wasn't going to be getting away. Stepping forward, cautiously, Ayreg drew Frost Brand from its sheath and held it out away from his body, ready to be brought into a position of defense as soon as--

...Blood and ashes...

Flies buzzed around what was left of the carcass of what had once been a great and proud bear. He couldn't tell what kind - it seemed to have been skinned - but it hadn't been there for very long yet. Red muscle and pale bone shone with the dull glimmer of bodily fluids, with dried leaves and flakes of grass sticking in places. The bear had been cut open in two places. By the looks of it, the weapon used was long, indicated by the heavy slashing cut. The weapon was also tapered; a fact he could discern by the fact that it was wider on one end than on the other. One such injury was on the great beast's flank, the other down the length of his not-yet-rotting skull.

...Blood and ashes...

He snapped his head to the side, and trotted forward a few feet. Then a few feet more. Ayreg stopped, frozen in place, when he found another animal -- it looked like it might have been one of the few wild tigers that roamed the mountains to the north, but occasionally came down toward Rhy'Din City during the winter months. It, too, was skinned, and killed by the same weapon as the bear. He didn't have to see any more to know that they would be laid out in a perfect circle around what lay deeper within.

He moved forward, smelling the strong odor of death all around him. It enveloped him, encompassed him, surrounded him and wafted through him. It was a familiar smell, but one he found himself caring less and less for the longer he was free of the burden of the Nihil.

More animals were passed. The next line would be animals of a more moderate size; bucks, doe, the occasional odd mountain lion, perhaps. He passed over another bleeding, broken body and continued forward. The line of squirrels and rabbits and field mice was almost missed, but the animals were too small to stand out very clearly. He knew this setup. Garen Corlagon had made such a three-ring circle of death once, when he announced his presence to Rhy'Din.

Surrounding the city of Rhy'Din was a grotesque sight, nearly worthy of being displayed in Malfeas itself. It was not a prefect circle, not by any means, but it was close enough. A mile deep, and individual lumps of flesh not more than three paces apart; the now-rotting remains of a thousand or so beasts and animals.

And he, himself, had made such a ring around the alter he had made one year ago this night, when he offered his own sacrifice up to The Plaguebringer.

She would die of hunger, of thirst, or of infection and rot. No animal would be kind enough to kill her, first -- around the altar, arranged in three perfect concentric circles, are the corpses of all manner of forest life.

He emerged from the trees, and found himself in a clearing very much like the one he himself used last year, during the night of unholy sacrifice. Three great fire pits burned up into the night, black smoke against black sky, and burning upon the piles of wood were the fur and pelts from all the animals that had been exterminated. The screaming woman's voice was loud, now, so close. It came from ahead of him, between the three fire pits on each side. He stepped forward, eyes closing to a squint, to better see what was going on and--

...Blood and ashes... his mind howled, ...no... it-- it cannot be...!

Lord Ayreg

Date: 2007-02-15 09:01 EST
It was not shock from the sight that had upset him. Ayreg had seen gruesome sights in his life, of which this was only one. One of many. One of so, so many. What it represented, though; that was what disturbed perhaps the most. The scream had, and was, coming from a woman in fact. Covered in the yellow-orange glow from the dancing flames, she had been stripped of her clothes, and Ayreg could make out the shiver of her cold body amid attempts to thrash free, from the way her heavy breasts hung down beneath her.

Oh, yes. She was suspended.

Numbly, Jodiah walked forward across the dry, brown grass of the clearing, lifting his chin slowly as required on the approach. She flailed, jerked, and, at the same time, looked entirely crushed and hopeless.

"HELP ME!!" she cried at the top of her strained lungs, breaking down into wracking sobs. Her eyes were closed. His probably would be, too. It did not require much in the way of examination to see from where her torment lay; she was suspended by what appeared to be spears. The sharp, remorseless steel tips were lanced through flesh and blood and bone.

One in each hand.

One in each elbow.

One in each shoulder.

One in each thigh.

One in each foot.

And one in the center, straight up through her... lower abdomen. Yes.

They were spears designed for hunting boar. He knew that in an instant; it had the tell-tale long cross-guard just beneath the blade. Ostensibly, this would keep the boar from rushing on ahead and goring the hunter. They were working just as well in preventing the woman from falling to the ground now, though. Set into the ground, the thick, heavy spears of reasonably high-quality make kept the woman suspended in the air several feet, using the weight of her own body against gravity in a kind of self-made torture rack.

"My lady, who has done this?" he asked quietly, after she had finished screaming wildly and returned to a dull sob.

Her eyes snapped open. "Please--please. I--I--I don't want to die. Please, sir, please have mercy!"

"Woman, be silent. I will free you. Who has done this?"

"I--I don't know. I didn't know her. She came to me. She smiled. She-she said she wanted to spend time with someone on-- on-- on Valentine's.." her words were wracked with sobs, but Jodiah wasn't going to be distracted by the bounce her breasts made. He was more focused on the spears again. There was no blood.

Not anywhere.

Likely, she wouldn't know the cause of it. He sheathed Frost Brand, and moved forward to more closely inspect the spears. The long, thin blades pierced up through her skin, sure enough, and in places where it would cause no fatal injury. She had been meant to freeze to death. But not first without undergoing the worst possible pain in her life. Ayreg slid his finger across a clear fluid on the haft of the spear, oozing down from above. Once brought to his nose, he took in the faint scent of... mint.

"Bloodstop..." he muttered to himself after a dab of it was tasted on the edge of his lip. It was a cocktail of extracts from two different plants, originally intended as an emergency battlefield medicine in the Great City of Ayreg's youth. It would stop the flow of blood completely, and the spearheads were coated in it.

Unfortunately, it also had other side-effects, such as the fact that it interacted with the interior of the body in a most painful way. The magicians in the Great City who had developed Bloodstop could never figure out why it caused such a searing sting, while keeping the subject entirely alert, responsive, and feeling every second of it.

"My lady, you were meant to suffer until you died," he laid his hand upon her cheek, cold from the air and wet from her tears. This close, he could see the pebbles across her skin, paling from the slow of pumping blood. She would need shelter, soon, or she would be dead.

"Please, kind sir, good sir, please... free me. I-- I don't want to die..."

It would be impossible to raise the spears. Jodiah wasn't terribly sure how she had been set upon them in the first place, but he wasn't going to be getting her off by himself. Not without inflicting more pain.

Not that he was ever shy about that, of course. Taking a step back, he drew Frost Brand from its scabbard and leaned back, preparing to turn his sword into an axe, and the spears into tree trunks.

...When another voice, from behind him, raised out across the night. It was calm, level, without scream or anger or fear. The pitch of the voice was definitely feminine, and it caused his head to turn in the same instant he heard it.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," that voice said. Ayreg stared, realization and recognition coming to him after a few seconds.

Warily, he muttered, "I should've known..."

Adrianna DeSeis

Date: 2007-02-25 11:49 EST
The female smiled fractionally, a gash of stone that never came close to those cold eyes.

"Ah, yes. Perhaps you should have."

The woman was striking, in a macabre sort of way. The flesh of her face seemed to almost glow in the moonlight. It was sallow, with the barest hints of yellow tingeing her cheeks and around the corners of her eyes, and lips. Those eyes were sunken, too, but only by the barest of amounts. Faint blue-black veins spiderwebbed across her cheeks.

"You look dead," Ayreg commented.

And, with a wave of her hand, she strolled forward. "It is what happens to mortals who visit Malfeas in the flesh."

The last time Ayreg had laid eyes upon her, her flesh was a deep, golden brown. The color of the earth. Her hair, too, though a touch on the darker side. Now she stood out in stark contrasts with her surroundings. Her skin was nearly white, much like one would consider a slug to be, and her hair had darkened to so deep a black to rival Ayreg's horse's coat. Her clothes were a tattered mass of rags and strips, slung on and held together by straps and bolts and pieces of armor.

The most prominent of which had to be the steel pauldron on the left shoulder. Ayreg should recognize it, of course. It had changed, but not that much. With a few spikes and a few studs affixed to it, plus that layer of black enamel washed across it, it had certainly changed in the overall appearance, but still held the engraving of the open palm, with an eye set into the center.

He had a few minutes before it was time to depart. He went to his room to prepare: Simple mail shirt, light-plated greaves, and the Guardian's Guard -- the name of the steel pauldron strapped over every Guardian's swordarm shoulder that was etched with the glowing hand-and-eye of the Prime Healer.

"I had been told you had managed to conquer age, Jodiah, but I did not know the effects would be so..." a slow grin curled her lips across her cheeks. It was like how one might imagine a snake staring at a mouse as it tried to decide upon the best time and method for which to strike. "...delicious."

In an instant, the man with the vivid green eyes shot back, "There was a time when I would have appreciated such words from you, De`Seis. No longer."

"Pity."

She moved around him with the serpentine twist of a spine. You know the kind. It's the kind that only women can ever truly pull off with any great effect, and usually they had to be dancers, or sword-maidens, or both. Adrianna De`Seis leaned her shoulder against one of the boar-spears supporting her sacrifice, and stroked her fingers lightly, almost tenderly, over the sobbing woman's cheek. She reacted by trying to pull away, which caused her skin to stretch and tear in places. The Bloodstop wouldn't allow her to simply bleed to death, though. She felt every single tendon and thread of skinfiber tear, which only brought renewed wracks of pain.

"He is quite the handsome devil, there. Isn't he, my lover?" De`Seis practically purred as that stroking hand flitted down the front of the woman's body, curling over her collar bones and down the hanging teardrop of her breast. Abruptly, her touch went from almost-kind to cruel, and her fingers took a firm, firm grip of one nippple and twisted it, wrenching it hard to the side.

"AUUUGH!!" she cried out, jaw gaping open with her eyes popped wide. Her scream echoed into the woods surrounding them until it faded into a strangled, dry-throated mewl. Her head bobbed as tears rained down her cheeks.

"Do you like her?" She flashed a brilliant, winning smile at Ayreg. It was a proud thing, like having just won first place in a swine competition. "I picked her up over in.. oh, what was it? Oh, right. Dockside, I believe she called it. She was heartbroken on Valentine's Day, and I could only offer shelter for her tender feelings. Now they are not so tender, I think, but her flesh most certainly is..." And, with a sadistic grin, De`Seis' hand turned, and the woman's abused nipple was wrenched in the opposite direction. The woman flailed, arching her back to try and pull away, but only caused herself more suffering again.

"That's enough, De`Seis," Ayreg said as he stepped forward once again. "Let her down. The Nihil will not have this sacrifice tonight."

"I cannot possibly disagree more, Jodiah. Not all of us have lost our faith as you have." She rose from her lean against the spear, and rested her hands easily at her side, one palm loosely set upon the pommel of a weapon that vanished into the tattered folds of her cloak. "Some of us still hold true to the oaths we made in a time immemorial."

She seemed relaxed, but Ayreg would have known better. She was like a coiled spring ready to burst loose.

Hard to believe such a diminutive little woman could hold such vicious, brutal, violent tendencies...

Lord Ayreg

Date: 2007-02-25 17:23 EST
One instance of crude language. Be ye warned. Arrr.

"The Nihil are false gods, De`Seis. I saw them for what they were, and had strength enough to walk away. You can, too. Even you can be redeemed, after all this time." In a way, Jodiah Ayreg almost felt like an absolute fool. As if he were proselytizing to a nonbeliever of the greatness of some religion.

She responded with a snort, "To what point, and purpose, Ayreg? Would that I wear fancy dresses and sip wine and laugh and flirt and fuck?"

Adrianna De`Seis was never one to have a kind mouth. To think that the creature before him was once one of the most pious paladins he ever knew... "Get off it, De`Seis. When all of the world lies in ashes, what then? What of you? Have they promised you to rule over the burned husks of the dead inhabitants as a god? Hm?"

"Of course not, silly man. When all life has been extinguished, then too so shall mine be. I will be welcomed into the abyss of Oblivion right along everyone, and everything, else."

"So why bother?"

"Why ask?"

Jodiah's teeth grated in his jaw. "Life is strength, De`Seis. That cannot be contested."

"Yes," she agreed. It almost shocked him. "To live is to affect one's world."

"So why keep yourself aligned with that which seeks to destroy all life, including their own?"

"It is the will of the Nihil that demands that life be extinguished. They are a power beyond comprehension. A hunger beyond understanding. They are anti-life itself. You knew this once, Jodiah. Have you fallen so far?" She moved forward. Jodiah could tell the subtle flex of her fingers to grip the hilt of that weapon. He took a step back, to keep the space between them.

"You wish to speak of falling? Arrogance and stupidity, and all in one package. How efficient you have become, De`Seis. Stay this madness!"

She sneered. Jodiah knew that expression well on her face; it usually was not followed by a game of cards around a table, with friends slapping each other on the shoulder. He lifted Frost Brand, ready to defend himself.

From her side came the wickedly curved length of her own weapon. It was simple-enough steel, but the scimitar had qualities to it that a broadsword or a longsword simply did not have. Wider at the tip than the tang, in the proper hands it was a cruel, malicious, and devious little engine of death. Adrianna De`Seis held such hands.

"The avalanche has already started..." she said, coldly. Ayreg could see keenly with his new, younger body, and he saw twin dots of pitchy black enter her eyes from the corner, and travel across the whites, through the irises, and then into white again before vanishing back behind her eyes. It was the Saa. Garen Corlagon could use them, himself, as did Ayreg before he had been purged of the influence of the Nihil. It was a draw, a tap, a minor trickle of power directly from Malfeas. For every time it was used, the fool using that power went just a little bit more insane. Garen Corlagon, murdering psychopathic madman that he was, relied upon them frequently.

"...it is too late for the pebbles to vote." And, swinging her scimitar around into a wide arc, she launched herself upon him.

Adrianna DeSeis

Date: 2007-03-01 08:52 EST
Ayreg had brought Frost Brand up to deflect away the first blow from De`Seis. She moved almost like a blur, spinning around for a second attack from the opposite direction. He turned that first stroke. And the second. And the third. De`Seis' face became fixed with concentration, but she moved like a viper.

Like lightning.

Garen Corlagon had been nowhere near as fast as De`Seis, but Corlagon was much stronger, too. De`Seis, for all of her speed and this thunder storm of attacks, was still a human woman underneath it all. Some women could be stronger than men in Rhy'Din, but Adrianna De`Seis wasn't one of them.

Unfortunately, it was that speed he couldn't keep up with. After every blow was turned from the critical areas, she made a much smaller secondary attack that clipped away at him. A little cut to his arm here. A little cut to his thigh there. The very tip of her scimitar jabbing a hole into his shoulder.

He seized an opportunity with a parried slash, taking a step in to slam his shoulder hard against the middle of her chest. De`Seis was flung backward from the force of the blow, and landed hard on the back of her shoulders. But the harnessed power of the Saa allowed a mortal to do things no mortal can do, to take the kind of abuse no mortal can take, to have the capability of fighting beyond the restraints of mortal existence.

In the same motion as her shoulders struck the ground, she used her own body's momentum to turn. She hadn't even fully come to a stop yet from the slam of the shoulder before her booted feet again dug into the cold, frozen earth and she vaulted forward. Again, Jodiah had been put on the defensive. For now.

"What's the matter, Jodiah? Can't keep up?" Her lips curled into... well. Perhaps it was something of a smile. It was that kind of smile, though. The kind that a woman used to let a man know he was going to do exactly what she wanted of him.

The man didn't bother to respond. That was a good sign -- for De`Seis herself, anyway. Ayreg had always been willing to throw a taunt back in the issuer's face, so for him to brush it aside now meant that he was near the finely-honed edge of his capabilities. He attempted a double-lock with the swords, and De`Seis answered it with an uplifted foot between them and a boot against his belly, followed by another little cut to his shoulder.

He was bleeding in multiple places, now. He had to have been burning like forge-fire, and even Adrianna could see his movements slowing. She grinned as she flourished her weapon around behind her on one side, before spinning it through her fingers and bringing it back up to a defensive posture. "You're starting to bore me, Jodiah. You know it's never good to bore a woman, yes?"

Slash and parry.

Thrust and dodge.

Strike and riposte.

It ended when Jodiah's swordarm began to grow weaker, both in grip from blood loss as well as simple fatigue. Yet despite the beads of sweat coursing over his face, she hadn't even started a quaint feminine glow yet. Such is the Saa.

A downward hack from De`Seis sent Frost Brand tip-first into the grass, and she could see where the pommel was knocked out of alignment with his wrist. With his grip lost, she immediately spun in the opposite direction and brought her wickedly curved scimitar up into a narrowly arced cut. Steel met magically-wrought ice, and the Frost Brand left Jodiah Ayreg's hand, and into the air above them. She dragged the length of the scimitar's blade across his chest as she stepped into him, and the way the man wrenched backward away from the cut, stumbling over her foot in the process, caused him to land hard on his back with a grunt.

Frost Brand was caught, turned, spun, and thrusted down mercilessly into the flesh of Jodiah's shoulder. Blood erupted along the faintly blue-white length of blade, and she took a great amount of relish in the sound of his scream echoing into the night.

He was pinned by his own weapon, weakened, and tired. This fight was over. De`Seis' lips curled into a self-satisfied smirk, and dropped her scimitar carelessly to the ground as she lowered herself to her haunches, and crawled atop Jodiah's body.

"Whatever happened to you, man? I once respected you," she settled her strong thighs against his hips, and squeezed his body once. She knew she had left a wide gash of torn skin where the hip was, so she reveled in the pain she knew that he felt. He could be remarkably stubborn, though, when he set his mind to resisting torment.

Good. This girl loved a fine challenge.

Pushing her hips down against him, she could feel through the tattered rags ands shreds of her clothes and bits and pieces of armor, all that was male pushing back up against her. She grinned, leaning down across his body to push the very tip of her nose against his. "...And yet you desire my body. Has it been so long for you, Jodiah? Has this new body ever tasted the feel of woman?"

He turned his head. Away from his sword pushed down through his shoulder, and away from Adrianna herself. "Feh. You delude yourself, woman."

"Oh, I think not, Jodiah." She rolled her hips again. Perhaps it wasn't suitable and ready, such as things of that nature go, but she could still feel it. "Your mind desires it not, but I think your body betrays you. I am supposed to kill you, you know..." she said, slowly, as if in consideration.

"...but, I think, there is perhaps a little bit of time. For sport."

His head jerked back up to her as she mentioned sport, and his face set into a deep, grim frown. He could only watch, exhausted, laying on the cold grass amidst sharp breaths of air, as De`Seis pulled a short-bladed narrow knife from the bandolier of knives and daggers attached about her waist.

Fingertips glided smoothly across the vertical scar, running from the brow ridge of Ayreg's right eye and down across his right cheek. She smiled, gently, and pushed her fingers into the skin on either side of his eye, pulling the folds of skin apart to reveal the pinkish membrane wherein his eyeball was mounted. The dagger was spun through the fingers of the other hand until it was brought, blade-down, and close to his face with a single finger extended out across the blade to stabilize it.

"But first.... you have seen much since that wound was given to you so many ages ago. Too much. It was a miracle then that you did not lose your eye, Jodiah, and your... friends here in Rhy'Din need a message to be delivered to them."

She pushed her hips forward again almost by rote, like a woman that had mounted a man to use him for her pleasure. She very well might, before it was all over with. That new body was quite dashing. Grinning, she lowered the knife down slowly, carefully, watching the indentation of the thin membrane covering the whites as the merciless, remorseless metal dug its way down beneath his eye.

Her breathy whisper washed out across him. The only true source of warmth on the cold winter's night, save only the wash of his own blood, and the roaring fires of oblivion burning the pelts of forest creatures around him, with the she-sacrifice still mounted atop her spears, watching it all.

"Happy Valentine's Day," she had said.