Post by blacknoise on Mar 28, 2016 2:52:50 GMT
WiP.
A small fire crackled in the middle of the forest, a small, antlered girl stared deeply into the flames as they licked up the dead wood. The deep navy of her skin could be seen momentarily as she covered her fingers and hands with thick, brown, leather gloves. Lacing up her fur boots and checking her cloak over her tunic, she gently flipped up the hood over a small pair of thick horns just beginning to bud on her head once more. She touched them gently, glad to feel them once more, as she looked out and watched the last light of the sun disappear beneath the horizon. Bringing her gloved fingers to her lips, she breathed onto the fire. Frost and ice burst forth from the wood, immediately extinguishing the flame that reflected in her glowing yellow eyes.
Long, sleek, blue-black feathers grew like hair from nearly every part of her body. They pushed through every tear and hole in her tattered tunic and ragged trousers, betraying the much larger amount that likely covered her skin. Her red hair, thin and scraggly, reached down to her waist and intwined itself with the black feathers. About her legs, roots retracted from around her feet and returned into her legs and ankles. Long, thick, strong and sinister claws grew from in between her fingers, toes, and from the back of her heels. They reached past the palms of her hands, and they'd scratch her hands if she dared close her fists.
Her cloak would cover this, it had to.
A loaf-like, large, lumbering forest troll slowly reached up and scratched the top of his head in confusion. His voice, sounding aged and wise despite his lack of knowledge, echoed through the forest as he inquired of the girl her intentions.
"Why cover you your skin, yes? I think you very beautiful, yes, very beautiful little spirit."
The sunken, malnourished face snapped upwards momentarily, looking almost surprised at the troll's remark. Spreading gently across her face, a small smile graced the face of the girl for but a moment.
"You're sweet, but no, I am not. I'm going to see the humans."
"Ooooh, see, yes. Humans like humans, no like us."
"Yes, humans like humans. Don't worry though, I'll be alright.
"Mmmhm, yes. Safe."
Without warning, he enraptured the girl in his large arms. One arm pulling her close, the other brushing her mangy, curly red hair after pushing away her hood. Staying like this for a few moments, the troll muttered a prayer and released her. Breathing once more, the girl laughed and waved him goodbye. The second she was out of sight, her spirits fell once more, left alone with her thoughts and the madness that devoured her head.
----------------------------------------------------
Slowly and softly, small, gentle fingers glided across the ivory and ebony keys of a grand piano. Soft, black downy feathers fell about the keys, ignored by the little hands that seemed to almost tip-toe up and down the key bed. Quietly, the voice of the ancient spirit rose and fell on the wind as she hummed a few of the words to her song. Her voice choked as she spoke the last words, as if she was unable to will herself to sing them clearly. They burned inside her throat and gripped her chest with guilt, she knew deserved worse than death.
"The flowers are in bloom as the birds will tell, it's a beautiful day to be burning in hell..."
Her horns were getting longer, the hood of a cloak would not cover them anymore, not that she cared to wear a cloak here. No one would be wandering around the garden this late at night, as they saying went, 'Only thieves and vampires crawl about in the night.' She dared not touch them, however, as their hardness frightened her. They were not soft, they were not as she remembered them. Thick, rough, hard, painful, strong, these were the words that could be used to describe what now grew from her forehead, not like the soft, gentle, nonthreatening horns that once adorned her head. Her diadem had been stolen, replaced by a tiara of thorns.
Her mind drifted back, her memories slowly returning to her after all her time spent attempting to forget them.
---------------------------
There was no denying it, among the children of Timore, Hollow-Eyes was the strongest. She stood tallest among them, 5'6 among those who capped out at 4'9, her roots twisted and churned around her body as she looked down on one of the many beds of leaves and cotton inside the massive underground burrow. With a snap of her fingers, a green bioluminescent light slowly illuminated the curled up, shivering figure on the bed beneath her. It's skin a sickening black, hair falling out, soft horns withering like plants. A small gasp escaped her mouth as she unconsciously reached up to her own soft horns.
"Another one is succumbing."
The smaller Child of Timore drew complex runes on a long, white root that grew from her wrist and stretched down to lightly 'inject' itself into the shivering spirit's neck. The hard yellow eyes of the being looked up towards Hollow-Eyes and blinked back angry tears as she continued.
"It would be merciful to just, let her go. Hollow-"
"That is NOT an option, Soft-Roots. We cannot lose another one, we have to hope for a cure, he could not have forgotten about us."
Gritting her teeth, the smaller being endured Hollow-Eyes's anger and bit back a snap of her own. After a few silence filled moments, the smaller spirit reached out and gently brushed the cold, clammy, unnatural skin of the dying, Child-like spirit. The entire burrow shook, dirt raining down on the spirits, and Hollow-Eyes growled.
"They're pounding the forest with magic, they seek to force our hand."
"..."
The one called Soft-Roots raised her voice, clenching her hands into fists as she continued.
"We must flee, we can find another forest, we can build a new burrow. We've done it a thousand times already."
"..."
Hollow's continued silence infuriating, Soft-Roots yelled at her friend.
"I will NOT sit by and watch my family die! Our father has abandoned us, and the warriors of Den knock down our door! We cannot fight them again, we must run!"
Hollow-Eyes breathed deeply, and clenching her fists, spoke.
"I will fight them."
Immediately, Soft-Roots protested. Her voice in an almost full panic, she demanded.
"No! We cannot show our hand, not without the power of our father! We're helpless-!"
"There's no other way, I will buy time-"
"I WILL NOT LOSE MY SISTER!"
Already walking away, Hollow-Eyes fixed Soft-Roots with a stare more than befitting her dark name. Her voice low and firm, she ended their conversation.
"You already have, I'm in the early stages of the infection. You must run, you must find a cure."
----------------------------------------
Soft-Roots, Gentle-Leaves, Sweet-Flowers, Light-Trees, Quiet-Voice, the names of her brothers and sisters drifted through her mind as she stumbled through the aftermath of the battle. Barely recalling what happened in the past hour, she felt the gentle trickle of blood down her head and tried healing herself. The pain from the infection that robbed her of her abilities and, soon, her life, informed her that healing would be impossible. She would drop dead here, in the field with her family, unburied along with all the warriors of Den that she could not defeat.
The shining, steel armored humans had burst through the burrow, mercilessly slaughtering anything and everything that moved. The sick and those infected were the first to die, the strong fell almost as easy when poisoned steel pierced their fragile hearts. Hollow-Eyes could not count how many she struck down, nor how many times she was struck in return. Something more than primal overtook her, a lust for blood that went beyond simple anger and adrenaline, it was power beyond her knowledge or comprehension.
But she fell too, eventually, and had been prepared for the killing blow. However, the strike never came. Screams, blood, the sickening sound of bones being crushed like twigs, these were the things that filled Hollow-Eyes's senses as she laid down on the floor. When silence once more overtook them, she struggled to her feet, trying to find out what happened. Slipping on the body of one of her own, she fell once more.
Blood obscured her vision, but even through the red she could see the body of Short-Nights beneath her feet, he had been the youngest among them. Willing her body to move, Hollow-Eyes clawed herself up and forced herself to look around. Standing before her, the Lord of Fear, Timore, looked down upon the small child-spirit and dropped a green, still beating heart at her feet. It was him, he had finally come, why was he so late, why did he not allowed his children to draw upon his strength. Anger overtaking her, she wiped her eyes and stood up to the much taller being. Her naturally light skin began to darken to a deep blue as she screamed at the lofty Firstborne.
"You're too late! You failed EVERYONE! Do you even care?! I thought you LOVED US!"
Pitiless, the vile being laughed.
Looking down as his child died before his eyes, he laughed.
Standing in a pool of blood from his family, he laughed.
Kicking the heart of a child of a god, he laughed.
and laughed.
and laughed.
------------------------------------------------------------
Hollow-Eyes walked away from the still burning village of humans. Humans, filthy, merciless, disgusting humans. She hated humans, she hated them, they and their kind were allowed to exist and she and her's were not. Humans were the children of Den, weak and useless, they did not deserve to breathe the air around them. Her yellowed eyes carried no love, her hands were dominated by tens of dark claws, and her skin was nearly covered in small, blue-black feathers. As she walked away, she sensed a small child hiding in the forest, shivering in the bushes.
Shivering, sick, soon to die. Hollow-Eyes could sense it, she could almost see it. It carried the face of Soft-Roots.
Her hands dripping with fresh blood, Hollow-Eyes returned to her forest, plotting the next village to wipe off the face of the earth. A large Raven landed on her shoulder as she walked, whispering the messages of the other surviving Children of Dread, as they called themselves now. They too struck out against the Children of Den, and wanted to coordinate an attack.
-------------------------------------------------------------
A small fire crackled in the middle of the forest, a small, antlered girl stared deeply into the flames as they licked up the dead wood. The deep navy of her skin could be seen momentarily as she covered her fingers and hands with thick, brown, leather gloves. Lacing up her fur boots and checking her cloak over her tunic, she gently flipped up the hood over a small pair of thick horns just beginning to bud on her head once more. She touched them gently, glad to feel them once more, as she looked out and watched the last light of the sun disappear beneath the horizon. Bringing her gloved fingers to her lips, she breathed onto the fire. Frost and ice burst forth from the wood, immediately extinguishing the flame that reflected in her glowing yellow eyes.
Long, sleek, blue-black feathers grew like hair from nearly every part of her body. They pushed through every tear and hole in her tattered tunic and ragged trousers, betraying the much larger amount that likely covered her skin. Her red hair, thin and scraggly, reached down to her waist and intwined itself with the black feathers. About her legs, roots retracted from around her feet and returned into her legs and ankles. Long, thick, strong and sinister claws grew from in between her fingers, toes, and from the back of her heels. They reached past the palms of her hands, and they'd scratch her hands if she dared close her fists.
Her cloak would cover this, it had to.
A loaf-like, large, lumbering forest troll slowly reached up and scratched the top of his head in confusion. His voice, sounding aged and wise despite his lack of knowledge, echoed through the forest as he inquired of the girl her intentions.
"Why cover you your skin, yes? I think you very beautiful, yes, very beautiful little spirit."
The sunken, malnourished face snapped upwards momentarily, looking almost surprised at the troll's remark. Spreading gently across her face, a small smile graced the face of the girl for but a moment.
"You're sweet, but no, I am not. I'm going to see the humans."
"Ooooh, see, yes. Humans like humans, no like us."
"Yes, humans like humans. Don't worry though, I'll be alright.
"Mmmhm, yes. Safe."
Without warning, he enraptured the girl in his large arms. One arm pulling her close, the other brushing her mangy, curly red hair after pushing away her hood. Staying like this for a few moments, the troll muttered a prayer and released her. Breathing once more, the girl laughed and waved him goodbye. The second she was out of sight, her spirits fell once more, left alone with her thoughts and the madness that devoured her head.
----------------------------------------------------
Slowly and softly, small, gentle fingers glided across the ivory and ebony keys of a grand piano. Soft, black downy feathers fell about the keys, ignored by the little hands that seemed to almost tip-toe up and down the key bed. Quietly, the voice of the ancient spirit rose and fell on the wind as she hummed a few of the words to her song. Her voice choked as she spoke the last words, as if she was unable to will herself to sing them clearly. They burned inside her throat and gripped her chest with guilt, she knew deserved worse than death.
"The flowers are in bloom as the birds will tell, it's a beautiful day to be burning in hell..."
Her horns were getting longer, the hood of a cloak would not cover them anymore, not that she cared to wear a cloak here. No one would be wandering around the garden this late at night, as they saying went, 'Only thieves and vampires crawl about in the night.' She dared not touch them, however, as their hardness frightened her. They were not soft, they were not as she remembered them. Thick, rough, hard, painful, strong, these were the words that could be used to describe what now grew from her forehead, not like the soft, gentle, nonthreatening horns that once adorned her head. Her diadem had been stolen, replaced by a tiara of thorns.
Her mind drifted back, her memories slowly returning to her after all her time spent attempting to forget them.
---------------------------
There was no denying it, among the children of Timore, Hollow-Eyes was the strongest. She stood tallest among them, 5'6 among those who capped out at 4'9, her roots twisted and churned around her body as she looked down on one of the many beds of leaves and cotton inside the massive underground burrow. With a snap of her fingers, a green bioluminescent light slowly illuminated the curled up, shivering figure on the bed beneath her. It's skin a sickening black, hair falling out, soft horns withering like plants. A small gasp escaped her mouth as she unconsciously reached up to her own soft horns.
"Another one is succumbing."
The smaller Child of Timore drew complex runes on a long, white root that grew from her wrist and stretched down to lightly 'inject' itself into the shivering spirit's neck. The hard yellow eyes of the being looked up towards Hollow-Eyes and blinked back angry tears as she continued.
"It would be merciful to just, let her go. Hollow-"
"That is NOT an option, Soft-Roots. We cannot lose another one, we have to hope for a cure, he could not have forgotten about us."
Gritting her teeth, the smaller being endured Hollow-Eyes's anger and bit back a snap of her own. After a few silence filled moments, the smaller spirit reached out and gently brushed the cold, clammy, unnatural skin of the dying, Child-like spirit. The entire burrow shook, dirt raining down on the spirits, and Hollow-Eyes growled.
"They're pounding the forest with magic, they seek to force our hand."
"..."
The one called Soft-Roots raised her voice, clenching her hands into fists as she continued.
"We must flee, we can find another forest, we can build a new burrow. We've done it a thousand times already."
"..."
Hollow's continued silence infuriating, Soft-Roots yelled at her friend.
"I will NOT sit by and watch my family die! Our father has abandoned us, and the warriors of Den knock down our door! We cannot fight them again, we must run!"
Hollow-Eyes breathed deeply, and clenching her fists, spoke.
"I will fight them."
Immediately, Soft-Roots protested. Her voice in an almost full panic, she demanded.
"No! We cannot show our hand, not without the power of our father! We're helpless-!"
"There's no other way, I will buy time-"
"I WILL NOT LOSE MY SISTER!"
Already walking away, Hollow-Eyes fixed Soft-Roots with a stare more than befitting her dark name. Her voice low and firm, she ended their conversation.
"You already have, I'm in the early stages of the infection. You must run, you must find a cure."
----------------------------------------
Soft-Roots, Gentle-Leaves, Sweet-Flowers, Light-Trees, Quiet-Voice, the names of her brothers and sisters drifted through her mind as she stumbled through the aftermath of the battle. Barely recalling what happened in the past hour, she felt the gentle trickle of blood down her head and tried healing herself. The pain from the infection that robbed her of her abilities and, soon, her life, informed her that healing would be impossible. She would drop dead here, in the field with her family, unburied along with all the warriors of Den that she could not defeat.
The shining, steel armored humans had burst through the burrow, mercilessly slaughtering anything and everything that moved. The sick and those infected were the first to die, the strong fell almost as easy when poisoned steel pierced their fragile hearts. Hollow-Eyes could not count how many she struck down, nor how many times she was struck in return. Something more than primal overtook her, a lust for blood that went beyond simple anger and adrenaline, it was power beyond her knowledge or comprehension.
But she fell too, eventually, and had been prepared for the killing blow. However, the strike never came. Screams, blood, the sickening sound of bones being crushed like twigs, these were the things that filled Hollow-Eyes's senses as she laid down on the floor. When silence once more overtook them, she struggled to her feet, trying to find out what happened. Slipping on the body of one of her own, she fell once more.
Blood obscured her vision, but even through the red she could see the body of Short-Nights beneath her feet, he had been the youngest among them. Willing her body to move, Hollow-Eyes clawed herself up and forced herself to look around. Standing before her, the Lord of Fear, Timore, looked down upon the small child-spirit and dropped a green, still beating heart at her feet. It was him, he had finally come, why was he so late, why did he not allowed his children to draw upon his strength. Anger overtaking her, she wiped her eyes and stood up to the much taller being. Her naturally light skin began to darken to a deep blue as she screamed at the lofty Firstborne.
"You're too late! You failed EVERYONE! Do you even care?! I thought you LOVED US!"
Pitiless, the vile being laughed.
Looking down as his child died before his eyes, he laughed.
Standing in a pool of blood from his family, he laughed.
Kicking the heart of a child of a god, he laughed.
and laughed.
and laughed.
"Love? I never loved any of you."
------------------------------------------------------------
Hollow-Eyes walked away from the still burning village of humans. Humans, filthy, merciless, disgusting humans. She hated humans, she hated them, they and their kind were allowed to exist and she and her's were not. Humans were the children of Den, weak and useless, they did not deserve to breathe the air around them. Her yellowed eyes carried no love, her hands were dominated by tens of dark claws, and her skin was nearly covered in small, blue-black feathers. As she walked away, she sensed a small child hiding in the forest, shivering in the bushes.
Shivering, sick, soon to die. Hollow-Eyes could sense it, she could almost see it. It carried the face of Soft-Roots.
IT DID NOT DESERVE THAT FACE
Her hands dripping with fresh blood, Hollow-Eyes returned to her forest, plotting the next village to wipe off the face of the earth. A large Raven landed on her shoulder as she walked, whispering the messages of the other surviving Children of Dread, as they called themselves now. They too struck out against the Children of Den, and wanted to coordinate an attack.
-------------------------------------------------------------