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post #10 of (permalink) Old 03-03-13, 01:54 AM
Farseer Ulthris
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I think I'll give this a shot
Written in flesh
There it was before him, this Mon-Keigh this...thing that dares call itself sentient. An'Xilaeq felt inclined to teach it a lesson, one that the Haemonculi know how to deliver, a lesson in pain. A smile girdled the Flesh sculptor's twisted features, a hellish visage come to fruition. An'Xilaeq gently caressed the human's face, he was young even by their standards, his life pale in comparison to the millennia the Haemonculus has desecrated the flesh of those who crossed his path. He clicked his bony fingers, answering this call was a wretched figure, its body mutilated to match the demented i of the Haemonculi and it's face encased in a mask of blackest iron. A dry cackle emergingfrom his ancient throat, "you know what to do" An'Xilaeq intoned.

The Wrack had brought them, the tools with which the Haemonculi create their macabre wonders. The Lord of the Coven gently caressed each one like a lover, each one creating a beautiful symphony exquisite agony...but An'Xilaeq had another thing lurking in roiling darkness that formed his mind. The Mon'Keigh was to be remade from his wretched self into something eater; something...beautiful. The Haemonculi then gestured to his Wracks, each preparing a tool for this great change. The human howled in agony as the devices were forced into his flesh. His screams then reached a crescendo as the they pumped the the elicits, already beginning to warp his pallid flesh and An'Xilaeq rebelled in the waves like lovers in the night. Cackling once more, the Haemonculus declared "he is ready, sooon he will be perfect".

Time passes, the Lord of the Coven cared little, his newest creation was ready. He floated towards the red cocoon. The thing pulsated, pushing out the contents that it held. In a grotesque mockery of childbirth, the cocoon forces out a hulking figure, tubes and stim injectors protruded from it's enlarged spinal sump. But it's face was still the same, An'Xilaeq would remedy this with a gift for his newborn "child". A mask iron, a larger variant worn by his twisted acolytes. Placing it upon the Grotesque's face, the Haemonculus' contempt was washed away in this instant. Instead exaltation and twisted joy manifested; he had made this Grotesque from a wretched thing into a creature of macabre beauty.
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He had found it, the place he had sought out. For Arqul'Qan this was the place his desire would take him, and as the entrance came into view, a fleeting moment of terror fluttered in his jaded heart; The entrance was adorned with skulls, dabbed in sigils of blood, curtains of flayed Mon'Keigh skin. In front was a large figure, it's body bulging with obscene amounts of muscle, repulsed by the figure the noble spoke "I have come to discuss a proposal with your master". The Grotesque remained still, Arqul'Qan dared not to think of what lurked within the black mask. A deep growling emerged from the fiends throat, forming the words "enter".

The oubliette was indeed a macabre place, not just because of the skulls of glaring witchlight, but the fact that he was so deep beneath the dark city.....making him yearn for the skies even more. A chittering noise began to echo throughout the catacombs, Arqul'Qan investigated it. He came across a chamber, it's walls laced with red cocoons, each filled with a black figure in some state of regeneration. "Who is this that has come to our domain", came a dry voice that seemed to come from an ancient throat. Arqul'Qan turned what he laid eyes on repulsed him further. A figure, resembling a monstrosity from the oldest tales emerged from the shadows. A smile crossed the fiend's ebony lips, "is there a reason why you'd call upon me child?" The noble had guessed that the Haemonculus would know his reasons, but alas he will indulge the Flesh-sculptor, "I have come for your...services An'Xilaeq". The fiend cackled, "not to peruse my many creations? Or is it to elevate yourself to the skies?" Arqul'Qan growled silently, "yes, I have grown weary of the earth beneath my feet, I want to escape this....this Necropolis". An'Xilaeq floated closer "you entrust yourself to my care? What makes you think you will live through the displays of my ever-sought talents?" The noble need not hesitate "better than remaining in this prison" he spat. The Haemonculus burst into a bout of bone-chilling laughter, unnerving Arqul'Qan in the process. "That is all I need child, when you leave this plac, you shalll so laughing and scorning the world below". The clicking began again and it's source emerged from the shadows; a mass of flesh and metal, it's blades caked in fresh blood. "I'm ready" intoned Arqul'Qan as he followed the macabre beings into the shadows....

When the sky falls down, The Dead sleep no more. Can you survive as your world slowly tears itself apart?

"When life gives you lemons...BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD"

Last edited by Farseer Ulthris; 03-03-13 at 03:32 PM.
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