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Dastardly deeds
Posted: Sat Jul 07, 2018 7:58 pm
by Kugar
~ Attaching a parchment to its leg, the undead Lord Gray sets off his raven, sir Fliegenshriek, off in search of the one he calls his 'equal' ~
Heed my call, he who is equal but still calls me king... There is work to be done!
~ <>
Re: Dastardly deeds
Posted: Mon Jul 09, 2018 11:00 am
by RonnyG
Shadows stir and plants shift. An unsettling aura exudes from around Illarion as the servants and allies of Lord Gray heed his call.
Somewhere a dark, deeply broken mind sings to itself:
Lord is here, and so is Master. Not only them but the rest of us too.
We are many.
Re: Dastardly deeds
Posted: Wed Jul 11, 2018 2:47 am
by Kugar
The undead lord stood leaning with the aid of his staff in the corner of the dimly lit chamber, gazing through his cataracts at the elfess he had imprisoned there. During these intervals that the sadistic red mage would find respite from carrying out unspeakable tests on their subject, the flickering embers of torches lit by eternal flames would be the only witnesses left in this isolated place. A fiery red glow pulsated with a kindling of rage behind the lord's eyes as he took these quiet hours to admire the essence of this mortal's self loathing, yet hardened soul.
Two mortal souls, who had chosen to bound themselves together in a chain of events that could only be described as fate, had now found themselves to have been separated. In Lord Gray's mind, the paths of these mortals were forged for a greater reason in this war of the gods. He, along with his apostates, would merely give them a chance to help to pave it.
Re: Dastardly deeds
Posted: Thu Jul 12, 2018 3:29 am
by TiaSarah
Laying on the floor, pain radiating throughout her body, the Elfess stared at the ceiling. She would not give in to the cries of her flesh. Not now. Not until she knew she was alone. The original potion she had been given because she was “too valuable” to die yet, was nearly gone. She had rationed it to herself, only seeking a whisper of relief when the pain was unbearable. Truthfully, it should have been gone by now, but she had let herself suffer once or twice. Punishment for being unable to resist taunting her tormentor… though the demonic woman seemed to enjoy it as well.
The one she knew only as “Red” had spent days trying to coax cries of pain from her. She had succeeded, though not nearly as often as she had hoped to. She still had yet to hear pleas for mercy escape the lips of the stubborn captive, a small victory in a very large war.
Her ears still twitched with every move of the figure looming in the room. She knew he was watching, waiting to see a crack in her façade. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing a single tear, or even a frown. Closing her eyes, she put on her mask of stone again.
Tonight, or was it today? Day and night did not exist in this chamber… for now, she would sleep. She hoped for darkness, no more heart wrenching visions of those she loved. And certainly none of the nightmares where she heeded the undead lord’s urgings to “awaken” and see the world as he did. To follow his Master…
Repressing a shudder, she wondered over the master. An enigma, to say the least. Urging his minions to see her as valuable, but seemingly unbothered by the varying cuts, bruises and broken bones they had given her. A brief, bitter smile crosses her lips as she recalled his assurances that she would not be sent to a permanent home with Cherga. As if she would believe that. She pictured the chamber around her. She had spent her hours memorizing every brick.
This chamber was her home.
This chamber would be her tomb.