Post by soulscourge on Jan 2, 2020 7:56:43 GMT
"Where does one begin? In the temporal limited minds of mortals one should start at the beginning. I know it is a bit dull and steriotypical of such things, but one must make a few..."
The space was empty, or was it? Often it was hard to tell when in the company of ones like. Four sources of illumination hung in the air, though what they were and how they supplied the 'light' was another matter of conjecture. The red light pulsed angerly A soft pink light seemed warm and inviting yet repellant at the same time if you were to gaze at it for too long. A blueish light flickered between hues and shades never once giving any sort of brightness, and yet did not swallow up the light; it was there but not. And finally a sickly green light weakly existed, yet had a vitality to it one could not quite figure out.
A lithe semi-serpentine form rolled in cloying musky clouds, never straying from the pink light. A sculpted face of the whitest marble, with inviting red lips that shifted with the moods of it's bearer; dark hair framed the 'face' and moved of it's own accord. Armor clung to the body betraying a feminine shape, but finely etched images of great debaucheries moved about the surface. A gesture like beckoning was made, before a ugly hiss and a upraised hand called for silence.
"You were saying something then trailed off. I find stories that do not involve me, tedious and boring, my patience wears thin."
The original speaker stepped into a spot where the four lights converged. Ash wreathed its entire form, a vague avian and humanoid mix of something that should not be, yet exists in defiance of any sane or natural law. And with a theatrical bow towards the three light sources, it continued.
"The mortals wage their wars endlessly, as you all can clearly see from the souls sent screaming around our masters domains. They gain an upper hand only to have some machination rendered the victory untenable. They invoke names of gods who may or may not hear them. The false gods are mute and do not respond to the plights of their 'children'. The chaff is to the wind and though they eke out victories, they never can hold them. But sadly those that call upon the Great Pantheon have nearly equal failures and victories. But we should remember, as we were all once as they are now... mewling, ignorant, sacks of flesh, vitae that sloshes around, moving in a comical clumsy manner. "
A threatening growl echoed through the air.
"SPARE US THE DRAMATICS, YOU ARE NO SKALD!"
The Ashen thing seemed to frown towards the red.
"After me ascention and return to visit the mortals, I did strike up an alliance with one of the leaders of the ongoing war.... of the druchii race of all things. Quite adept at what she does. She did remove the previous commander under 'mysterious' circumstances. I was impressed, and I was thinking of inviting her to visit the Library. Let her see what it has to offer, though I wouldn't dare try and ensnare her, too keen of mind and wary of any subterfuge one of our kind may attempt. Dreamlust's side of things has not gone so well, a semi-successful coup, followed by a disaster and fleeing into a banishment of sorts to lick the wounds. I still do have the severed hand in a nice glass case, the bauble was basically discarded once it's second owner perished and what it was, was forgotten and lost. You all remember those ill-fated attempts, so I'll refrain from recounting them at length. But why am I telling you any of this really? Not out of a sense of family, or alliance. No. I do not gloat as well."
As it moved about, flakes of ash drifted off its form or floated around like a grey aura. Smoking foot prints were left on the floor, only to fade and vanish as quickly as they were formed.
The lights faded out leaving a blue glow. Though no words were spoken plenty was said. Strut and move about we will see what you have planned, it will be interesting to see you fail again, Soulscourge.
The space was empty, or was it? Often it was hard to tell when in the company of ones like. Four sources of illumination hung in the air, though what they were and how they supplied the 'light' was another matter of conjecture. The red light pulsed angerly A soft pink light seemed warm and inviting yet repellant at the same time if you were to gaze at it for too long. A blueish light flickered between hues and shades never once giving any sort of brightness, and yet did not swallow up the light; it was there but not. And finally a sickly green light weakly existed, yet had a vitality to it one could not quite figure out.
A lithe semi-serpentine form rolled in cloying musky clouds, never straying from the pink light. A sculpted face of the whitest marble, with inviting red lips that shifted with the moods of it's bearer; dark hair framed the 'face' and moved of it's own accord. Armor clung to the body betraying a feminine shape, but finely etched images of great debaucheries moved about the surface. A gesture like beckoning was made, before a ugly hiss and a upraised hand called for silence.
"You were saying something then trailed off. I find stories that do not involve me, tedious and boring, my patience wears thin."
The original speaker stepped into a spot where the four lights converged. Ash wreathed its entire form, a vague avian and humanoid mix of something that should not be, yet exists in defiance of any sane or natural law. And with a theatrical bow towards the three light sources, it continued.
"The mortals wage their wars endlessly, as you all can clearly see from the souls sent screaming around our masters domains. They gain an upper hand only to have some machination rendered the victory untenable. They invoke names of gods who may or may not hear them. The false gods are mute and do not respond to the plights of their 'children'. The chaff is to the wind and though they eke out victories, they never can hold them. But sadly those that call upon the Great Pantheon have nearly equal failures and victories. But we should remember, as we were all once as they are now... mewling, ignorant, sacks of flesh, vitae that sloshes around, moving in a comical clumsy manner. "
A threatening growl echoed through the air.
"SPARE US THE DRAMATICS, YOU ARE NO SKALD!"
The Ashen thing seemed to frown towards the red.
"After me ascention and return to visit the mortals, I did strike up an alliance with one of the leaders of the ongoing war.... of the druchii race of all things. Quite adept at what she does. She did remove the previous commander under 'mysterious' circumstances. I was impressed, and I was thinking of inviting her to visit the Library. Let her see what it has to offer, though I wouldn't dare try and ensnare her, too keen of mind and wary of any subterfuge one of our kind may attempt. Dreamlust's side of things has not gone so well, a semi-successful coup, followed by a disaster and fleeing into a banishment of sorts to lick the wounds. I still do have the severed hand in a nice glass case, the bauble was basically discarded once it's second owner perished and what it was, was forgotten and lost. You all remember those ill-fated attempts, so I'll refrain from recounting them at length. But why am I telling you any of this really? Not out of a sense of family, or alliance. No. I do not gloat as well."
As it moved about, flakes of ash drifted off its form or floated around like a grey aura. Smoking foot prints were left on the floor, only to fade and vanish as quickly as they were formed.
The lights faded out leaving a blue glow. Though no words were spoken plenty was said. Strut and move about we will see what you have planned, it will be interesting to see you fail again, Soulscourge.