Post by Lest on Oct 16, 2015 5:12:55 GMT
Affects of a once thought harmless effluvium; Edelman’s Kingdom was swathed deep within a surreptitious fog. The meandering formation was not that of a storm but was analogous in consequence. The nebulous miasma settled upon the earth like that of an eerie frost, tainting the souls of all within its odious reach. Bodies littered the ground but one peevish soul slept despite this disturbance deep within the walls of this dusky dungeon. Heavily shackled, a man with a body littered with closing wounds raised his head from his crucified esque position. Across the room from several other men who were on the verge of death, he seemed to be the only one without anguish as a smile cracked his resting face. He awoke from slumber from the marring touch of a succubus. What was actually approaching him was far worse little did he know. Though the image left behind was that of satisfaction, once again he was left virtually sapped of spirit and frankly his sexual desires would leave him wrongfully unprepared on this occasion.
Peering across the room, the pestilent fog seeped in under the doorway. It would appear the detainee was damned to a fate similar to his captors. Completely bonded, the presence immediately alerted him but had he chose to escape like he could have long ago it wouldn’t have mattered. There was only one exit and the mysterious force began to enter through the cobblestone walls. He was certain that death had finally caught up to him and that it did but death’s intentions were quite different.
The lone prisoner held his breath for a mere moment before snorting a dangerous amount of the mystic bog. His bloodshot eyes were wide, expecting the worst but to his surprise nothing transpired. Instead moments later he felt the materialization of hand. It stroked his face seductively as his thoughts began to runabout in just about every possible direction.
Bewitched twice? No! His astral sexcapades did not live on. Instead he was forced to speculate as the murkiness of the room filled to no return. Not even an eyelash’s length was visible but he could feel the fingers of another being zigzagging off his chest. Was he scared? Never. Did he believe there was a chance that he was done for? Actually, nothing to him was impossible so probably yes. Who was he to argue? Here this man was, suspended within a nameless void, legs pinned and arms tied.
The longer he remained within the murk the lesser his sense of the real world became. Wherever he was now felt similar to what he referred to as the dreamscape or astrals. After accepting whatever demise he rationalized this to be, a jaded sigh left his jaws. In reaction to that the voice of what rode the line of being identified as female or male spoke the bonded prisoner’s name.
“Eal…”
Now his initial thought was “Who the fuck was that?” but of course he remained leveled. Before he could conjure a clever remark the voice spoke once again.
“You tempt the force that is a witch’s hex, willfully follow the lasso that is the maidens call and fornicate in the lairs of Harpies. Even when imprisoned you purposely ensnare yourself into the traps of Succubus. You are a walking irregularity. I know more of you than you might know of yourself. Now when faced with ‘Id’ you respond with indifference. Consuming your spirit would be too charitable. All of the others when facing forces that mirrored their gods folded…Who is your God, Eal?”
As Eal attempted to speak he realized he no longer had a mouth to speak from. In that moment he realized he had enough and in desperation he used his remaining prowess to use his brain like a router. It wouldn’t be a day unless Eal tried sweet talking himself out of a rough situation but now that was physically impossible. Searching for extrasensory wavelengths, to his surprise Sermonde was denied and maliciously at that, inflicted with a pain and sensation of his brain juiced by that of a force that felt like a squeezing hand.
Just like that he was dead but not quite. For a moment he had forgotten of his existence but his consciousness returned as with his intact brain. The malignant entity wanted him alive. For how long wasn’t clear. Quickly lifting his head, Eal opened his brown eyes directly into the menacing set of another pair. He felt as if all his thoughts were being flipped through like some high school yearbook at the hands of a toddler, ripping pages leaving marks. It was uncertain that his mental captivity would ever be the same.
“You bring far too much anomaly to the balance to live a span of a mortal. Your appalling fetishes also bring me pleasure as they are a sign that you may stumble into oddities far more ludicrous than those. You are very interesting Eal Sermonde. To subsist you must carry my curse. I already know your answer and frankly I do not care. You are the one which I foresee will succumb to the wrath that is of the HellSeeds. May you never live a life in which you aren’t reminded of my spirit and may chaos stalk the tracks you leave… ”
The entity’s words repeatedly echoed into the blankness. The traces of it faded with the dissipating vision of its red eyes. The further it faded into the dusk the calmer Eals heart became. Actually, it was rather too calm. He felt off…
The fog dispersed in a manner similar to how it first arrived and when Eal’s vision became clear he realized what was done to him. The room was different. It smelled putrid and he be came witness to the hell he was now in. The other prisoners were nothing but skin and bones resting within some foul mixture of soil and blood. The body of water extended to every corner of the room. Looking downwards Eal could see his reflection. The nauseing image of his flesh growing upwards from his neck in strands covered what he could only assume was his new frightening endoskeleton. Before he could analyze further the bindings that kept him snapped, leaving him in a similar state of the bodies on the other corners of the room…
Peering across the room, the pestilent fog seeped in under the doorway. It would appear the detainee was damned to a fate similar to his captors. Completely bonded, the presence immediately alerted him but had he chose to escape like he could have long ago it wouldn’t have mattered. There was only one exit and the mysterious force began to enter through the cobblestone walls. He was certain that death had finally caught up to him and that it did but death’s intentions were quite different.
The lone prisoner held his breath for a mere moment before snorting a dangerous amount of the mystic bog. His bloodshot eyes were wide, expecting the worst but to his surprise nothing transpired. Instead moments later he felt the materialization of hand. It stroked his face seductively as his thoughts began to runabout in just about every possible direction.
Bewitched twice? No! His astral sexcapades did not live on. Instead he was forced to speculate as the murkiness of the room filled to no return. Not even an eyelash’s length was visible but he could feel the fingers of another being zigzagging off his chest. Was he scared? Never. Did he believe there was a chance that he was done for? Actually, nothing to him was impossible so probably yes. Who was he to argue? Here this man was, suspended within a nameless void, legs pinned and arms tied.
The longer he remained within the murk the lesser his sense of the real world became. Wherever he was now felt similar to what he referred to as the dreamscape or astrals. After accepting whatever demise he rationalized this to be, a jaded sigh left his jaws. In reaction to that the voice of what rode the line of being identified as female or male spoke the bonded prisoner’s name.
“Eal…”
Now his initial thought was “Who the fuck was that?” but of course he remained leveled. Before he could conjure a clever remark the voice spoke once again.
“You tempt the force that is a witch’s hex, willfully follow the lasso that is the maidens call and fornicate in the lairs of Harpies. Even when imprisoned you purposely ensnare yourself into the traps of Succubus. You are a walking irregularity. I know more of you than you might know of yourself. Now when faced with ‘Id’ you respond with indifference. Consuming your spirit would be too charitable. All of the others when facing forces that mirrored their gods folded…Who is your God, Eal?”
As Eal attempted to speak he realized he no longer had a mouth to speak from. In that moment he realized he had enough and in desperation he used his remaining prowess to use his brain like a router. It wouldn’t be a day unless Eal tried sweet talking himself out of a rough situation but now that was physically impossible. Searching for extrasensory wavelengths, to his surprise Sermonde was denied and maliciously at that, inflicted with a pain and sensation of his brain juiced by that of a force that felt like a squeezing hand.
Just like that he was dead but not quite. For a moment he had forgotten of his existence but his consciousness returned as with his intact brain. The malignant entity wanted him alive. For how long wasn’t clear. Quickly lifting his head, Eal opened his brown eyes directly into the menacing set of another pair. He felt as if all his thoughts were being flipped through like some high school yearbook at the hands of a toddler, ripping pages leaving marks. It was uncertain that his mental captivity would ever be the same.
“You bring far too much anomaly to the balance to live a span of a mortal. Your appalling fetishes also bring me pleasure as they are a sign that you may stumble into oddities far more ludicrous than those. You are very interesting Eal Sermonde. To subsist you must carry my curse. I already know your answer and frankly I do not care. You are the one which I foresee will succumb to the wrath that is of the HellSeeds. May you never live a life in which you aren’t reminded of my spirit and may chaos stalk the tracks you leave… ”
The entity’s words repeatedly echoed into the blankness. The traces of it faded with the dissipating vision of its red eyes. The further it faded into the dusk the calmer Eals heart became. Actually, it was rather too calm. He felt off…
The fog dispersed in a manner similar to how it first arrived and when Eal’s vision became clear he realized what was done to him. The room was different. It smelled putrid and he be came witness to the hell he was now in. The other prisoners were nothing but skin and bones resting within some foul mixture of soil and blood. The body of water extended to every corner of the room. Looking downwards Eal could see his reflection. The nauseing image of his flesh growing upwards from his neck in strands covered what he could only assume was his new frightening endoskeleton. Before he could analyze further the bindings that kept him snapped, leaving him in a similar state of the bodies on the other corners of the room…