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Jul 17, 2016 13:50:51 GMT
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Mach2
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August 2015
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Post by Mach2 on Jan 28, 2016 3:21:11 GMT
Obligatory Soundtrack!---------------------------- Alleyways were home for Sage. They always had been, and she couldn't imagine there being a point in her life when they wouldn't be. She had grown up sleeping on the streets. From the time she was young, curled up in a heap with other children, she had slept in the back corner of an alleyway. After the fall, when she was injured, she had crawled into the alleyways every night to hide away. But the alleys of Etirath, they were her favourite. They didn't stink of rot and urine like other cities she had passed through. They were secluded, dark and quiet enough for her to sleep through the night. And some, like the one she had just found, had soft grasses and mosses growing. It was nearly as comfortable a a proper bed. The sun had set hours ago, and darkness had set in. She was exhausted. Hungry, but less so than she normally was, thanks to a charitable meal that evening. Her gait as uneven and lurching as ever, Sage made her way to the back of the alleyway. She slipped her bag off, dropping it against the brick wall of a building. Clumsily, she lowered herself to the ground. The atrophied muscles in her bad leg were knotted and tight, but thanks to Baeslan, there was no sharp ache. She untied her belt, where her knife was holstered, taking it off and setting it down beside her bag. Without a further thought, she curled up. Her lumpy bag was a pillow, and she would be asleep in minutes. Goodnight, Sage... Goodnight...
And within moments, she was asleep. Subconsciously, or perhaps directed by another presence within her mind, Sage's slender fingers reached out to curl around the handle of her knife.
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Apr 22, 2020 19:54:15 GMT
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Dymion
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Aug 13, 2015 23:35:49 GMT
August 2015
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Post by Dymion on Jan 28, 2016 6:42:05 GMT
Sleep, for Silas, was a place of reprieve and escape. Lights and colors flashed in his vision, pleasant sounds slipped into his ears, and he was allowed to hear the sound of his voice. Each little nuance was a blessing, giving him that short moment to revel in the gifts he had once taken for granted. For him, tonight would be no different, the gold light of the imagined ballroom a pleasant tone to the dashing figure that dominated the center.
A delighted smile painted across Silas' features, he looked around in wonder and excitement, taking in the sights and sounds of dancers and music in the back. The colors were what amazed him most, with light lavenders, deep crimsons, dandelion yellows, and rose pinks flitting across the floor, each swirled and draped around delicate, elegant women. To each of them, a man also came in accoutrement, their cloaks and capes gilded in golds and silvers of the most refined types, augmenting the royal blues they wore. Looking down at himself, he reveled in the softer cerulean that decorated him, the fine silk soft against his skin as he swirled, cape billowing in the air. Then, completely satisfied with style in which he was dressed, he turned his gaze to the musicians, ears tuning in to the music.
He was enthralled by the melody. Light and airy, it seemed to drift across the breeze, settling on the crowd like a warm summer wind as it was highlighted by the slower, darker tones of the counter melody. More subtle still, the rhythms and musical decor that appeared in the lower register were heaven in his ear. In his heart, he could feel a longing to join them, to retrieve his instrument and let loose his own sweet melodies. And yet, he remained, eyes now drifting again across the crowd as he listened to the voices of the dancers. Soft sopranos were answered by baritones, and the occasional titter slipped, the women tilting their heads in the most endearing way. It all spoke to Silas' soul, and he knew that this was paradise.
As the music went silent, he saw the many eyes turn to look behind him, and with an inquisitive gaze, he turned his head, emerald green eyes, widening as they set upon something even more beautiful. Before him, across the parted sea of a crowd, yet another woman had appeared, her smile vibrant and she moved towards him with grace and purpose. Dressed in the deepest, richest of purples, she seemed to shine in the ballroom, the jewels twinkling in her crown adding a halo of light to her refined features. Without thought, he walked calmly towards her, and as they halted, mere inches away, she held out a silken gloved hand, her eyes twinkling.
"May I have this dance?"
"Of course, milady."
To answer such a woman asking such a question was a delight to Silas, and, happily, his left arm wrapped around her hip, right hand in the air as fingers entangled. Then, they began to dance, the soft, slow music that had appeared in the back ground forming a crescendo as the pair became poetry in motion. Step by graceful step, they glided with a grace afforded only to nobles and royals, their eyes lost in the pools they saw as the others', one a vibrant, sapphire, the other a deep, forest green. In that moment, Silas knew he could be lost in her gaze forever, and in his contentment, he allowed his eyes to close.
When he made to open them again, they were gone. He was awake. Shuddering at the waking nightmare he had experienced, he remained there for a moment, contemplating with a deep rooted sadness why the world seemed so cruel. The dream, so lovely and vivid, had been nothing more than a taunt, displaying all he could never truly experience. Never would he dance, or speak, or hear the sweet sounds of music. His world was black, and it was silent. And right now, it was also cold.
Sitting up from the cobbled stones he had been laying against, he felt as the hard, rigid corner of the stone wall dug into his back, reminding him of its presence. Then he reached up, hands feeling the grimy cloth that covered his eye sockets as he released his despair in a solitary sigh. Already, he could feel the rough cotton dampening with his mournful tears, the salty drops forcing him to tilt his head forward. Everything had seemed so real in his imagination, tge dream taking him from this perpetual prison he now lived in. He wanted it back, but knew that it would only taunt him further, drawing him deeper into his ever growing depression.
Removing his hand from the dirty cloth, he began to feel around him, grasping at the stones in search of something. When he finally felt it, timid hands wrapped around the shape, finding comfort as Silas pulled it closer, hugginf it to his body. The case was all he had left, along with the violin inside, a gift from his mother. But right now, it could not save him, so instead, he sniffed at the frigid night air, trying to catch a whiff of food.
All that greeted Silas, though, was a chilling breeze, and as it blew the rags he called clothes against his body, he shivered visibly, hugging his violin case tighter to seal out the cold. He'd caught no scent of freshly baked pies. It wasn't the morning yet. Turning his head up, he held that position for a few moments, before he allowed his head to drop again, lips twisted into a frown. He was feeling hungry. But there was no way for him to grab some food, and so, he waited, there where the alley met the street, hoping dawn, and pies, would come soon.
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Jul 17, 2016 13:50:51 GMT
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Mach2
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August 2015
mach2
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Post by Mach2 on Jan 31, 2016 4:37:01 GMT
A breeze made its way through the alleys of Etirath, rounding the corners and twisting about the dead ends. The temperature had dropped in the night, and the wind carried a chill with it. Perhaps that was what awoke Baeslan. Or perhaps it was something else. A quiet noise, the hint of another's presence. Or perhaps, the demon had never fallen asleep in the first place.
But the specifics did not matter. As the cool wind blew, the eyes of Baeslan's host snapped open, a dull green in the darkness. Slender fingers curled even tighter around the knife's handle. Without a moment of hesitation, the slim girl was climbing to her feet with a grace and deftness she would never have otherwise been capable of. Baeslan moved forward, careful to step lightly. His host was so small and frail, it was easy to walk softly and silently. Even when he had to drag along a stubbornly uncooperative leg. Sage couldn't move the dead limb, but Baeslan could make it work.
Yes. There it was. He could see a figure sitting at the end of the alleyway, he was certain of it. What would happen if he had some fun with the knife? Who would find the body in the morning? How much damage could he inflict? A smile played across Sage's face as Baeslan relished the thought.
He was close enough now that he could strike. And he still hadn't been noticed. A few quick strides, and a stab of the knife. Where would he land the blade? Carve open his throat? Twist a blade through his heart? Slash his wrists, and enjoy the slow and painful death that could follow? He took another step closer...and stopped. Something was strange. Something was wrong.
Baeslan stared, close enough now to be able to see the man clearly. The wooden case clutched to his chest, and the cloth tied around the man's eyes. Asleep? No. Blind. The demon nearly laughed aloud. This was practically an insult. The fates had placed a target here, right where Sage was sleeping...and taken away his sight. It was embarrassing. It was a joke. Easy prey was one thing, but this crossed the line.
He cleared the remaining distance in a few quick steps. But he didn't strike with the knife. Sage's crippled leg snapped out in a kick, aimed straight for the case in the blind man's arms.
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Aze
Commoner
Posts: 39
inherit
11
0
0
Aze
39
Aug 14, 2015 22:16:44 GMT
August 2015
aze
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Post by Aze on Jan 31, 2016 5:03:43 GMT
Tim, wandering the dark streets of Etirath, mostly to fast track re learning the lay out. His eyes glowing, enabling to see in the moonlight streets, wandered from building to building taking notes of positions that could easily be fortified. Until he reached one, where he saw two homeless people. About tempted to let the two carry on with whatever they were doing back there until he noticed something. The female was clutching a knife and was kicking at the man, with a clearly crippled leg. "What the hell do you think your doing!" Tim barked out in an authoritative voice, his advance slow shield quickly poised just slightly off center to the rest of his body. In his right hand he held nothing, intended to subdue this mad woman with just a shield and his fist." I'm warning you to back off," he said again as he was at about the half way mark, " or I'll be forced to use.... well force." The last section bearing an awkward pause, as well as a hint of hesitation caused by seeing just how, well pathetic, the female looked to be. Tim was soon going to realize two things. Firstly he was going to have a bad time, and two never underestimate anyone.
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#2007f0
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Apr 22, 2020 19:54:15 GMT
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Dymion
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Aug 13, 2015 23:35:49 GMT
August 2015
dymion
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Post by Dymion on Feb 7, 2016 2:50:20 GMT
There was no way for the unfortunate soul to prepare for what was coming. When Sage's foot struck the case, it would resound with a solid crack, flying up and away from the weak grip of Silas as he let out a startled yelp, like a wounded pup. For everyone around him, the clatter of wood against stone would let them know exactly where it had slid, even if they hadn't seen it fly across the alley and hit the wall. But poor Silas had no way of knowing, and despite the fear he might get beaten by whatever had knocked his possession away, desperation gripped his heart, making it beat excessively as he fell on his hands and knees, fingers skimming across the rough, unforgiving stone as he tried to feel for the smooth wood. But it wasn't there. His features creasing to show the despair growing, his movements would grow more and more frantic, knees scuffing against the coarse road as he began to crawl, patting constantly at the ground. Truly, it was a pitiful sight, but he didn't care.
I can't lose it. I can't lose it. It's here, it's here, it's here... please, be here.
Nothing. He had only crawled a foot or so, and yet it seemed he had gone forever, circling in fear as he felt all around him, all the while oblivious to the figures around him. It felt colder away from the wall, and, always on the verge of breaking down, he began to cry yet again, the salty tears staining his blindfold yet again. Truly, it burned, the vile salt stinging the wounds that gaped where his eyes had once been, shining out like emeralds.
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inherit
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Jul 17, 2016 13:50:51 GMT
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Mach2
44
August 2015
mach2
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Post by Mach2 on Feb 7, 2016 3:56:17 GMT
Soft boot met hard wood with the most satisfying of thuds. As he had expected, Baeslan saw no reaction from the man until the wooden case had already been bunted out of his clutch. The kick was powerful, sending the case arcing through the air and skittering across the cobblestones. Immediately, the man was crawling after it, hands reaching blindly.
"What the hell do you think you're doing!"
A voice, loud and powerful, sounded from down the road. Baeslan looked up, a smile dancing on his host's face. Here it was, the real challenge. This blind man had been nothing more than a lure. Bait, to draw in a more worthy opponent. "I'm warning you to back off," the stranger said as he drew closer. Baeslan could see him more clearly now. Tall. Head and shoulders above Sage, and easily double her weight. Intimidating, perhaps, but also an enticing opposition. "Or I'll be forced to use.... well force." Hm. Perhaps less intimidating than he appeared.
The demon glanced down at the man, sobbing pitifully, his fingers continuing to grope against the cobblestones for a case that was well out of his reach. He looked back to the approaching paladin, and then stepped closer to those reaching hands. "I'd like to see this force," he said, Sage's quiet voice carrying in an obvious taunt. "Please. show me."
Sage was not heavy. But with all of her weight on her crippled foot, it was still nearly a hundred pounds of force. That crippled foot stepped now, directly onto the back of Silas's outstretched left hand. The fingers responsible for playing the different notes on the instrument that now lay discarded on the stone road. Sage's piercing green eyes held Tim's gaze as she did so. And the knife in her hand, Baeslan held playfully less than an armslength above the back of Silas's neck, ready to strike.
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Aze
Commoner
Posts: 39
inherit
11
0
0
Aze
39
Aug 14, 2015 22:16:44 GMT
August 2015
aze
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Post by Aze on Feb 7, 2016 4:14:54 GMT
The quiet voice of the young woman, whom shouldn't even be capable of walking let alone kick with the force she's shown. Tim knew he had to act fast, thinking quickly he decided on the safest course of action, divert all of the malice in the figure before him at him. " I'll show you demon," he said not entirely sure the woman had a demon within, but he knew if that where the case it'd almost certainly enrage it. Preparing for the potential onslaught he pulls his shield in close, the veins beneath his armor pulsing with power, he didn't wish to hurt the girl but that boost in power might be all that stands between life and death if she truly was possesed. His off hand still open, poised to lash out at the knife wielding hand should the bait work.
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Jan 17, 2019 22:10:26 GMT
4
blacknoise
I don't have kik.
273
Aug 14, 2015 15:19:56 GMT
August 2015
blacknoise
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Post by blacknoise on Feb 7, 2016 4:33:59 GMT
The slow notes would rise and fall gently in the mind of Silas, a nudge of turn his mind's eye away from the pain he was experiencing. He could not see, he could not hear, he could not speak, but he could feel. He would feel the pain as the demon attacked him, he would feel the helplessness once more of his situation, and he would feel the the notes of his own song, taunting him, play in his mind. First in his mind, then in his ears, a deafening roar that almost hurt. SO loud it would be hard to think, hard to concentrate on what was happening, hard to understand the voice that spoke to him. A voice, clear as day, harsh as the mid-day sun and as unforgiving as the pain that that struck at him, spoke to him. He would hear it, but no one else was. For as much as the demon-possessed woman and paladin knew, nothing had changed. But Silas would know, Silas would hear the loud, maddening voice that laughed at him. "Well, look at you, Siiilas. Once powerful, now dropped down to this sorry state. Can you feel the tension in the ear, can you feel your immanent death?!" Through the chaos around, a gentle caress could be felt on the man's shoulder. Something was behind him. Through the wall it reached, it's invisible fingers gripping and pulling on the poor man's being. As the voice faded, the sounds came back, pots and pans banging together, a piano being played badly, children screaming in anger and grown men crying. Through the noise, the voice spoke once more. With every word, the noise grew louder and louder in his ears, deafening him with sound. Sounds inside his own head. "Do you miss it?!"
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#2007f0
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Apr 22, 2020 19:54:15 GMT
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Dymion
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Aug 13, 2015 23:35:49 GMT
August 2015
dymion
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Post by Dymion on Feb 7, 2016 5:29:36 GMT
He wasn't used to cruelty, after that one, fateful day, just suffering. And since he'd lost his hearing, vision, and tongue, he hadn't been attacked, just in pain. No one oppressed the weak. They were already punished enough. This was why Silas knew that the weight that suddenly pressed down on his hand wasn't a person. It was a monster, and as his mouth gaped, releasing a guttural, unarticulated yell of pain, he silently begged for mercy, the awful sound leaving his throat racked with sobbing.
Then he heard music. Shock, mixed by disbelief and agony, struggled in his conscience, and he tried to make sense of what was going on, his free hand clawing at the appendage weighing down on his hand. He scratched, he pulled, he twisted, all the while notes growing louder and more dominating in his mind. In a blind moment, he became feral, fear surging in his heart, and he acted as such. In seconds, as the sound of a violin blasted his ear, tormenting him with what he sought, he struck with gnashing teeth, his canines clamping to dig into flesh as he bit at Sage's crippled leg. He didn't know what it was, nor even what he was doing. Instincts, pure and primitive, had taken over, and there was no chance for flight; he had to fight.
Then came the voice, grating at his mental senses as his free hand flew to cover his right ear, an empty attempt at nothing. The word death sent him into a frenzy, and with the sting of more salt splashing in his empty eye sockets, and the constant, sharp pain of his crushed fingers, he began to gnaw, jaw gnashing as he attempted to force the abomination off him. All the while, he was bombarded with sounds, and as he was tortured by them, so too did he relish them, even as he squirmed on the cobblestone, feet flailing to kick his oppressor. He was not pitiful. He was not weak. He was desperate, and so it gave him the will to fight. He refused to die.
But he was blind, he was deaf, and he could not truly fight. Terror at what was undoubtedly inevitable gripped him, and so he lashed at the monster in any way he could, all the while screaming in his mind to the cruel voice that had spoken.
Save me! Save Me! Save me!
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Jul 17, 2016 13:50:51 GMT
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Mach2
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August 2015
mach2
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Post by Mach2 on Feb 7, 2016 17:54:33 GMT
Sage's weight on the man's outstretched hand was more than enough to elicit a wordless cry of pain. And yet, even as Baeslan stood poised to strike, staring at the paladin in the street...there was no offensive motion made. He merely raised his shield against an attack that was not coming. "I'll show you, demon," the man leered.
If he expected his taunt to end in an attack, he would be sorely mistaken. Baeslan had this weak little creature pinned under his foot, struggling desperately to escape. Even as the paladin taunted, the blind man was clawing at Sage's foot. And then, in ultimate desperation, Baeslan felt teeth begin to tear at his host's leg. The demon felt no pain. His mind acknowledged the wound being inflicted, but the leg was not his, and neither was the pain.
Nevertheless, damage to Sage was damage to his host. And that would not do. Teeth had already torn through flesh, and Baeslan could feel the blood running down Sage's calf and ankle. Time to end this, and start the real fight. Baeslan smiled sweetly at the paladin, and leaned forward to grab onto Silas's shoulder. Sage's fingers clamped down with a vice-like grip, a strength far superior to what she should have been capable of. He attempted to pull the struggling man off of his host's leg. "You want to see a demon?" Baeslan taunted.
There would be no time for reaction. As soon as the words sounded, Baeslan struck. The motion was quick. Efficient. Executionary. A sharp stab, directly to the back of Silas's neck. A strike that would slice between the vertebrae of the man's neck, and immediately slide out once more to prepare for the next strike.
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Aze
Commoner
Posts: 39
inherit
11
0
0
Aze
39
Aug 14, 2015 22:16:44 GMT
August 2015
aze
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Post by Aze on Feb 8, 2016 3:11:21 GMT
Tim watched in horror as the knife, quick and brutal plunged towards the beggars throat. 'It might not be alot,' he thinks as he focuses at a point just above the alley. The ball of golden fire would ultimately work as a two- sided attack, the light would hopefully draw in guards or someone to help while also allowing Tim to strike the woman or at least make her move closer to him. " I didn't want to do this," he says as the glowing spree forms, illuminating the otherwise dark alley. As the words leave his mouth he raises his right hand, closing his eyes for a brief moment, " Crash." The tone of his voice carrying no sign of emotion, though his face twisted in disgust as he brings his hand back down, the ball of flame rushing towards the ground below.
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Jan 17, 2019 22:10:26 GMT
4
blacknoise
I don't have kik.
273
Aug 14, 2015 15:19:56 GMT
August 2015
blacknoise
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Post by blacknoise on Feb 8, 2016 3:15:35 GMT
As Silas began fighting for his life, desperately scratching and biting at his attacker, the originator of the darkness appeared. The apparition that caused his torment faded into the greatest evil that walked the earth, all without skipping a beat in the horrible noises that berated the poor man. Timore, Lord of Fear, had not observed a real, terrifying murder in a long time. But watching the fight, the amusing thrashing and biting of a weak and fallen man, Timore decided a fate beyond the abyss could await him. That is, if he wanted it. Perhaps after all that he had been through, it was time to deal out a bit of the torment he had experienced. He would only need to ask- Save me! Save me! Save me!And there it was. Finally. Just the statement that Timore wanted to hear. But he did not acknowledge the man's request, not yet. He waited, watching the possessed girl speak and react to being bit in the only sensible manner. Silas would have died almost instantly, if he was lucky, or in a few minutes of asphyxiation from his spinal cord being cut, or from starvation from being quadriplegic over the course of days if he was exceedingly unlucky. However, the Dread Lord had different plans. Reaching forth, he held the man's fearful soul inside of his body, refusing to allow him the peace of death. The sounds would increase, in addition to whatever fresh hell of pain or lack of feeling the man was experiencing. "You want me to, save you? What if I were to tell you I could do more than that." Immediately, all sound would cease. Silence would dominate the mind of Silas once more until the voice spoke. For a brief moment, there would be no sound, no sight, no feeling, nothing at all. The Lord of Fear would make sure there existed no distractions. When he spoke, it was the only thing Silas could experience. "I will give you power, I will give you the deepest desire of your heart, you must simply ask."
"You must simply accept my mark."
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#2007f0
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Apr 22, 2020 19:54:15 GMT
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Dymion
129
Aug 13, 2015 23:35:49 GMT
August 2015
dymion
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Post by Dymion on Apr 22, 2016 6:05:51 GMT
Fighting for life, struggling to survive, but trapped by his helpless state... these words had defined Silas for too long, and now, they rang at a climatic point, the edge of a blade striking him down, down, down... As the metal tore flesh, ripping through the softly tanned tones and piercing deep into his neck. It was strange, to feel the agony of the searing cold slip into his spine, only for the burning pain to fade. The beggar didn't know if he was dead or paralyzed. It didn't matter; he was doomed, or at least would have been, had it not been for the voice ringing in his still conscious head. To the world, he was limp, but inside his mind, Silas was very much alive.
He couldn't react to the cruel cacophony resounding in his skull. He couldn't cry, couldn't recoil, couldn't wither away- he was trapped, and he didn't know why. Death was supposed to be freeing, a way to escape the suffering of life. This, to him, was a greater hell, to suffer the agonies of existence while frozen, unable to act. If he could, he would recoil away. Instead, he could only panic, his mind going further and further into the depths of insanity as it wished for some way to express the internal scream that now sounded, but only in the mind.
"You want me to, save you? What if I were to tell you I could do more than that."
Silence: the agony was gone. Yet again, he was Silas the Silenced, yet again he clung to the voice, the darkness in his head. It promised salvation, salvation was freedom, freedom was- purpose. And what was more, the voice, so mysterious, so foreign, so brooding, offered more. But what was more? For the man so limited in his scope, he had never imagined a greater relief than to see yet again, to view great beauties and again be entertained by the sweetest of sounds on his ears. Mere moments ago, the Voice had tormented him with his wishes, and now- it could grant them instead. One thought crossed Silas' mind, but it had hardly occurred before his question was answered.
"I will give you power, I will give you the deepest desire of your heart, you must simply ask. You must simply accept my mark."
The Voice had hardly spoken before the tormented, twisted mind that had been Silas answered.
Yessssss.
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