Post by r.andom on Aug 4, 2006 8:48:31 GMT -5
Most always have seen the demons of his eyes writhing their primal dance, chanting a raw chord around their bloody fires as they urged on the malice and dire ruthless nature of their host. They have seen the ugly forms doused in their own elixirs, primitively ecstatic in their orgy of bloodletting and sacrifice. Never before have they seen them still and take a single direct aim. Not even his mother, and the betrayal of the self-proclaimed hero and martyr and legendary father had his imps and friends paused in their tumultuous rhythms to take notice on the object of their black magic and ill-wishing. Their curses were enough, the instrument of their destruction being the very marble temple that shuddered to a halt even as they broke their dance. The gears still whirred away, the machine ever pounding on as it always would, since it had eluded the hand of time and mortality. Now they themselves could only whisper hushed tongues as they watched, watched in awed wonder at the depths of the savage iniquity that not even they knew lurked somewhere deep in the dungeons of the Wretched King’s mind – as they had only recently in his life come to accompany the journey. They were not there for the end of Species, when his madness had been planted as some vile seed in the heart of his mind; nor where they there for the Thirteenth Dimension, when it had bloomed and grown into the noxious thing that was her very being in the anywhere, where they came to be the last of the lands, the last of the monsters that was strong enough to be the master of the cutthroats and murderers of the Jungles.
There was no sneering break upon his lips, no derisive finality to the transformation as there usually was – he would normally relish this, the decent into such uncharted domains, but tonight there was no primordial joy to be had in the unshakeable knowledge that the creature before her was now drawing his last breaths. It was a cold chill, hardly a twitch at the edges of his mouth that signified the gruesome smile he wore inside, mirroring the growing anticipation of him witching demons. But do not be deceived by the stillness of his eyes, for it was the calm before the storm...
Foolishly, the delicate form remained place before him, it's head raised and eyes glaring with an indignant rebellion. Did it not know, little deceptive worm that crawled into the lines of an ancient story, a tale still in the making, that there was no fighting against this? It was inevitable, and with it's very words and it's insolent stand, it had signed away it's own life. It moved, a sudden burst of motion where just moments before it was still, and effigy of the war gods that now rest forgotten but still mighty. There is no hesitation, no doubt as it dove into him... One would think that sentimental memories would cloud the conviction of my warrior, but he was well trained. There was no grey, no wondering if perhaps he was overreacting – my abomination had made a promise, and those she always kept. The promise had been his death.
His words struck into it's emblazoned with the flame of a red-hot brand, singing the barriers of her mind until they fell away, and he was permitted that first incomparable glimpse into the madness and gruesome havoc that roamed at leisure behind his eyes, dancing that lunatic cadence pounded out like some African witch-chant in the blood-red wine. He did not bother with words, as that would break the glorious cadence of his impending death (and, likely, it would be so panicked that it could not hear any uttered sounds at the moment but furious battle-cries and it's shrieking pleads for forgiveness). And they would be the last thing he would even know of any living thing, beast or not, spare the crushing blow that would be him demise...
“I sincerely hope you enjoyed the taste of your last words, you miserable cur, because you won’t be getting a chance at any others!” It seemed as though Malinnium had lost his mind now, yelling and screaming to no one... In this abanndoned place.
At that he rose, not dramatically to his full height for that would be folly – wounded as he would be. It was with a sickening speed that he rose, hardly lifting his weight onto his hind end before his nadir came plummeting down to rid the world of the brazen doll. I will spare the detail here, for such gruesome things are not meant to be recounted as the execution Malinnium, but we will say that her end was no swift gift, but that he was left to watch the world slowly dim from his amber eyes as he gasped for breath that would not come, and tried to piece together the thoughts behind his shattered mind to no avail – the last thing he knew was the cold chill of death stealing over his form, not welcome but invasive as he had been to the lives of many whether they knew it or not, and the last thing she would contemplate with his last delusional thoughts... He was gone.
ooc:
Good bye Malinnium!
There was no sneering break upon his lips, no derisive finality to the transformation as there usually was – he would normally relish this, the decent into such uncharted domains, but tonight there was no primordial joy to be had in the unshakeable knowledge that the creature before her was now drawing his last breaths. It was a cold chill, hardly a twitch at the edges of his mouth that signified the gruesome smile he wore inside, mirroring the growing anticipation of him witching demons. But do not be deceived by the stillness of his eyes, for it was the calm before the storm...
Foolishly, the delicate form remained place before him, it's head raised and eyes glaring with an indignant rebellion. Did it not know, little deceptive worm that crawled into the lines of an ancient story, a tale still in the making, that there was no fighting against this? It was inevitable, and with it's very words and it's insolent stand, it had signed away it's own life. It moved, a sudden burst of motion where just moments before it was still, and effigy of the war gods that now rest forgotten but still mighty. There is no hesitation, no doubt as it dove into him... One would think that sentimental memories would cloud the conviction of my warrior, but he was well trained. There was no grey, no wondering if perhaps he was overreacting – my abomination had made a promise, and those she always kept. The promise had been his death.
His words struck into it's emblazoned with the flame of a red-hot brand, singing the barriers of her mind until they fell away, and he was permitted that first incomparable glimpse into the madness and gruesome havoc that roamed at leisure behind his eyes, dancing that lunatic cadence pounded out like some African witch-chant in the blood-red wine. He did not bother with words, as that would break the glorious cadence of his impending death (and, likely, it would be so panicked that it could not hear any uttered sounds at the moment but furious battle-cries and it's shrieking pleads for forgiveness). And they would be the last thing he would even know of any living thing, beast or not, spare the crushing blow that would be him demise...
“I sincerely hope you enjoyed the taste of your last words, you miserable cur, because you won’t be getting a chance at any others!” It seemed as though Malinnium had lost his mind now, yelling and screaming to no one... In this abanndoned place.
At that he rose, not dramatically to his full height for that would be folly – wounded as he would be. It was with a sickening speed that he rose, hardly lifting his weight onto his hind end before his nadir came plummeting down to rid the world of the brazen doll. I will spare the detail here, for such gruesome things are not meant to be recounted as the execution Malinnium, but we will say that her end was no swift gift, but that he was left to watch the world slowly dim from his amber eyes as he gasped for breath that would not come, and tried to piece together the thoughts behind his shattered mind to no avail – the last thing he knew was the cold chill of death stealing over his form, not welcome but invasive as he had been to the lives of many whether they knew it or not, and the last thing she would contemplate with his last delusional thoughts... He was gone.
ooc:
Good bye Malinnium!