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| [GRP] Under the Knife; Balthazar, Diana | |
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| Topic Started: Sun Oct 9, 2011 7:17 pm (339 Views) | |
| Graham Sideas | Wed Oct 19, 2011 4:03 am Post #16 |
 
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Graham paced around the table looking at the nearly dead man, debating if it was time to remove his heart. His guardians who he had given the idea had decided to only do what was necessary so their master could complete the work, knowing that if they were too quick or too messy with it then he truly couldn't complete the work. The tool he intended to use for the ghoul was powerful, but the man's soul would have moved along before he could get to it were he too busy stirring up the chaos of battle. He wanted to be angry that they hadn't listened to his orders, but he had to admit their thoughts were prudent. He sighed deeply and nodded to them to take their places, both shuffling anxiously in hopes that some enemies would slip through for them to have their fun. They were certainly not as capable as they were when they were alive, but they still could handle one of the fools who had attacked this place. Fun was needed every now and again, dead or alive. Graham placed the black orb next to the man's head, it's surface constantly swimming with the souls that were contained within. It had quickly become the most useful tool in his work with the undead, different abominations he had begun to make requiring the tool to focus the soul of the dead into the corpse. It had interesting effects on the undead, but so far nothing impressive enough to make him feel like the effort was worth it. He could create ferocious undead by simply toying with the brain of whatever he was making, or carrot and stick tactics. He ran a hand over his chin in contemplation, absently squeezing his hand down on the man's heart. "Rest in peace, Jensen Farrols. May your rebirth be as beautiful as the happiest days of your life." The dying man on the table looked at the Phantom, barely aware of the words or what they meant. He had long since drifted far from the edges of awareness, pain and blood-loss putting him in a perfect state of delirium. There wasn't often a time when he had regret in his eyes, but as Graham Sideas looked over his latest work he did. Would this man be dying for something worthy? He wouldn't have as a slave, but was Graham Sideas, necromancer and Phantom, much better then these drow elves? He closed his eyes and began to pull, his lifeless fingers easily yanking the heart from the man. He wondered what it would be like to see one's heart out of their own chest as they died. He watched with callous eyes as the man's soul drifted into the black orb that he knew as the reaper's vault. Without a word he turned to the corpse that laid on the other table, placing the heart within. Until the thing was awake and alive he had little in the ways of magic to repair it quickly, but his fingers were agile enough he felt comfortable that the creature could be alive quick enough to join the quickly closing battle that was going on in the halls. He began to hum as he worked, a small needle pulling thread through flesh to make sure that the organ would work. No undead creature truly needed the heart, but it was a respect he would pay to each. What was a man without his passions? And how could passion truly be sparked without one of these? He looked at his own chest and knew that even if he held one within his chest, his real heart was long gone. His true body withered away long ago, upon the eve of his first true transcendence past humanity. Burned and gone, now and forever. How long a forever it would truly be for Graham Sideas. He closed his eyes and kept up with his work, now and again moving his cold fingers to the black orb that he had brought to this table with him. It had brought him comfort, that orb, and now it almost felt.. warm to him. Perhaps inviting? He was only a soul, just another morsel of food that would feed it's endless vault. He couldn't help but smile at the thought of the prey holding control of the predator. It was.. beautiful. He ran the back of his hand across the cheek of the corpse he was working on and couldn't help but offer a fatherly kiss to it's forehead. Soon that drama would be played out in those blackened halls, where the only truly important thing to understand was strength. |
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| Diana Sin | Wed Oct 19, 2011 5:08 am Post #17 |
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Once the dead started to outnumber the living on the enemy side, it was becoming quite obvious who would win this battle. Diana ran her blade through one more enemy before she started to feel bored. Once there was certain victory it seemed like she should get back to her job of guarding Graham while the rest kept pushing out the intruders. She did not need to see them turn and run, see the faces of so many flee before the Drow. What she wanted was to see people unable to flee from her, and thanks to the early exploits she would have that someone. She moved away from the battle, walking back towards the room she was meant to guard, but stopped along the way as she looked down to the woman she had rendered unconscious. She smiled, knowing if she were still there then she didn't die and it seemed no one else had taken her while Diana was busy. "Perfect," she said to herself as the grabbed the girl up and put her on her shoulder. She was a bit heavy in all the armor, but Diana was a rather strong woman herself and was easily able to carry her back to the room. She opened the door, looking around to find she had sadly missed the best parts of the show as it seemed the slave had been rendered heartless and dead and Graham was finishing up with his. She lay her spoils of war down by the wall and took her post, taking care to not distract Graham during his work. After all, she didn't want to be dissected by the phantom. Looking around, she noticed her fellow guard had not returned back yet, so he must still be having his own fun somewhere in the battle. Nothing wrong with enjoying himself, and even if the enemy was now going to lose for sure they still might take some time to surrender or run away, and a few would probably choose death over defeat no matter how slim or impossible victory was. |
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| Balthazar | Sun Oct 23, 2011 2:07 pm Post #18 |
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With a smile on his lips the demon moved very fast for someone who just had been immobilized by pain. He kicked at the child that stood over him with the sword pointing at his heart but his eyes in the distance. The child gave a scream and fell to the ground, the sword bouncing out of his hand as his back hit the cold stone floor. Cain jumped up from the ground and jumped over the boy, aiming for the sword that lay about two meters from the boys. However the child was more capable of fighting then the demon had thought and he managed to pull himself together and grab hold of one of Cain's legs, making the monster fell to the ground but he at least managed to catch himself and tried to kick himself free. The child used the force in the kick to turn Cain's force against him and as the child managed to get up on his feet Cain rolled to the right, away from the sword that lay without a user. The child made a run towards his blade and like a cat the demon found his footing on all four and leaped towards the unprotected back of the kid. Both prey and hunter hit the floor once again and with sharp nails the monster buried his claw like hands in the slave's shirt. The child screamed and tried to remove the demon from him by hitting blindly at his back. Cain let go and ran towards the blade once again, a pair of fighting paladins (of one was an undead) had danced in front of the sword and Cain ran around them to collect his needed weapon. He could see it; someone must have kicked it away a little since the demon found it laying much more to the left then he remembered. The kid had located the sword too and since he was closer to it then Cain, the child reached his blade and picked it up. _________________________ The slave could feel the cursed steel in his hands and the cool touch of the blade made him forget the pain in his back, now he had his weapon and an aim, the demon would surely not give up so easily and besides it still had fangs and claws. The slave could see the monster; it had the body of a normal child, perhaps around sixteen years, not much older than the slave himself. Its eyes were crimson red and its hair white like snow, blood stained the demon's face, not much likely was it the blood of evil but that of good. The demon smiled, showing sharp teeth as white as bones. Grabbing the blade harder the slave lowered his body to the position of attack, he had never really fought a battle like this before, just imitating the guards as they trained outside, sometimes close to the prisoners' workplace. The steel was familiar in a weird way, the cold and cruel touch of power and death felt like an extension in his arms. It was as if the slave's blood and body remembered the movements of a fighter thou he could not remember it with his mind, his eyes failing to show him such a thing as the terrors of the battlefield. His breathing slowed and his muscles became less tense, the pain of his back gave him reassurance, telling him he was still alive and the steel was ready to fight, to bite down on demonic flesh. All he needed to do was pointing the way and the blade would do the rest. The monster jumped and he moved his sword. The blade and the claws clashed and the child spun around to slash the demon under his guard. The demon realized this and jumped backwards only to take a better footing and then rush towards the child again, this time aiming for his stomach. The slave blocked and the demon lashed out again, they danced over the battle field, the child blocking and spinning while the demon jumped and lashed at the slave with his claws. A hit from the blade made the demon retreat and it grabbed its side, red blood falling to the floor at his feet but the cut was shallow, the blade had only graced his skin. The slave stepped back and took a deep breath, he could feel his chin throbbing and the wet, warm blood leave his body but he was not going to give up, not until he had become free. The demon smiled and with hands covered in blood he removed his long, white bangs from his eyes and spoke; "Quite impressive, how did you suddenly turn so good at fighting, human?" The slave gripped his sword's hilt harder, his knuckles becoming white as the blood faded from his veins in the hands. He showed his teeth in an angry grimace, the blood on his chin made his face look twisted and mad. The demon seemed to miss the meaning behind the grimace as it giggled at the boy, its sharp fangs had turned a little red and the slave realized it must have been hit by his blade since it had a small cut over its lips. The slave advanced again, his blade aiming for the demon's heart this time, his first real offensive move. The demon once again drew back and smiling it prepared to let its claws collide with the steel but fate would not allow them to meet again in battle, their battle would have to wait for some time. _____________ As the boy attacked Cain read his movements and his sharp claws hungered for the child's blood but the world suddenly grew blurry. A powerful explosion hit his back, making him fall to the ground, his skin aching and his eyes loosing focus. With all his might he managed to sit up, at least so much that he could look over his shoulder at his other attacker. It was the female battlemage, she held her weapons high in the air calling her powers for another strike. Cain's instincts told him to get up but he was too weak and his eyelins were closing over his red eyes and he fell at the ground the hole in his shirt revealed a deep burnmark. |
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| Graham Sideas | Tue Oct 25, 2011 8:12 am Post #19 |
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Graham traced his fingers over the surface of the heart, each of the veins and arteries that connected to it carefully sewn shut. It wouldn't matter, really. He knew that the creature had little use for the organ, but he felt it was a respect that he owed the man. He took the flesh that he removed from the previous owner of the organ, carefully sewing the chest shut and ensuring that it was tight enough that it wouldn't easily come undone. Anything else would waste time, and he wished to have the ghoul alive and ready for battle before these idiots got their sense and routed from the caverns. "Wake up, my son.... You are Gregory Harthland no more. I name you... Draug." He grabbed the black orb into his palm, the soul that he had just planted into it being drawn out to be planted into this body. The soul would not remain long, as his research had shown, but he would eventually find a way to pry it out permanently, he knew. He always overcame an obstacle once he set himself to it, he would just need to find the right combination of powers to give true life to these undead things he worked with. Necrotic energy began to course through his fingers as he moved them across the creature's face, lines of black smoke rising as his fingers passed over flesh. The creature opened it's eyes, fanged teeth showing in it's mouth as it began it's first 'breaths of life'. It's chest heaved angrily as it went through the processes that it's brain knew in life. It obviously felt something different, something unneeded in this process as it's chest relaxed, but it's head and eyes were no less alert. The bloodshot eyes darted from left to right to trace every figure. The lines where Graham's fingers had run over the flesh seemed to crease and melt into the flesh as the creature accepted it's new life fully, and it's new purpose. It could feel it's master's will grinding into it, and a hunger building up within that it could not truly deny. Graham smiled and leaned down, whispering quietly into it's ear, "They have taken everything from you, your love, your body, your home... it is time for you to take it back." He undid the straps on the table and the beast spun on it's heels, landing on all fours on the ground and bounding towards the hallway. The ghastly creature bounding towards the wall in the hall and clawed in, climbing over it's surface as if it were on solid ground. It's eyes traced through darkness, following figures as if it were perfectly alight. Graham smiled, watching the outline of it's aura of unlife with his wraith sight. Hector and Lucius moved to flank him, keeping their heads bowed low. He turned his head towards Diana and smiled, motioning for the hall, "My work is complete if you would like to join us for the finale. Or you may have your fill of the body in there, or a few of the drow if you can catch them..." He could see some of the drow blanching in rage and terror at the thought of being fed to the undead, well aware that the cultists and the Phantom himself would side with the creatures who shared his affinity for the lifeless existence he walked. He smiled to one of the drow he had a certain distaste for- why he didn't know- and turned to walk in the wake of his new pet. The cultists exited the room now to follow their master, not wanting to stick around in case the vampire took up his offer of devouring someone and didn't wish to discriminate. Graham arrived quickly, not moving in a slow gait to keep up with his group of guards. His ethereal form moved well and beyond their capabilities, and he was glad that he came ahead of the group. He watched as the undead that he just made bounded to a wall, and didn't even wait to land properly to bound into the throat of a nearby swordsman. The man fell to the floor, what was left of his throat too covered in his own bodily fluids to discern what the ghoul had ripped out. There were four bodies in similar shape around the place. The creature had used it's speed and surprise, and likely the darkness, to ensure that none of them survived. This was turning out rather excellent. The hallways where the bulk of the battle were going on were a bit taller, but Graham had to admit that the creature had certain instincts to use that to it's advantage. It's body moved like liquid to the higher points on the walls, creeping to the roof every now and again and waiting for a target. A particular battle-mage caught the creature's attention, and Graham shifted through walls in an attempt to keep up and give the creature the assistance it would need. He could already hear Lucius and Hector joining the undead on the front-line of their side of battle. This was coming along nicely. The battle-mage did not even see her assailant in her final moments, the only warning about what was happening was the sound of a blood-thirsty screech from the beast. It's claws latched into her sides, it's fangs snapping like a vice on her neck. The force of the drop and the angle that it threw itself made the two of them twist, the woman's head causing a sickening snapping noise and causing her to fall limply to the floor. Her spine was snapped before she was fully dead. A shame, the Phantom mused, a lack of useful parts now. He came out of the wall muttering the words to a spell, grabbing the lad with fire in his eyes by the back of his neck as the final words came out. The blade bit into the Phantom's forearm as the spell was released, the look of pain on the lad's face well worth the wound on his arm. Black blood dripped from the wound as the flesh began to peel from the lad's sword arm, the spell biting at it and traveling all the way up the length of the flesh to the shoulder. "Your conviction is admirable... but you aren't getting any further then the pile you shall soon be laying in." He could see the fire burning in the lad's eyes, the desire to push through the pain and escape, something that he would equate to any strong-hearted slave. Freedom was a commodity kept for the strong, however, and the boy had found himself against an enemy that he couldn't bring himself out from under. Not here, and not now. Graham frowned when he considered that the lad would not truly have another moment to try. The ghoul moved from his bloody victim, content that he had done enough damage to do his bound, bounding towards the lad and easily burying him beneath it's bulk. Graham closed his eyes and walked on, ignoring the sounds that came from it. He sighed and looked down at the comatose guard that he had hired, wandering if he had erred in the decision of hiring this particularly green looking lad. He looked up the stairs as Hector moved down them, his cloak and hands covered in blood. He had a weapon at the top of the stairs, but had relinquished it upon sight of his master. Graham was curious why he had begun to do that. To stop himself from attacking the Phantom, or perhaps a hope that less-then-spectacular guards would get him killed? Either one is plausible, he mused. "Keep a vigil over the lad until he wakes... ensure that's paid. Your new brother has not yet had his fill." As if on cue the ghoul bounded from the corpse and began to climb the walls, claws pounding into stone and eyes darting for the next victim. The battle-field was thinning, but he imagined that there wouldn't be much difficulty in finding one. The Phantom smiled, feeling the fatigue washing over him. He had considerable skill when it came to the arcane arts, but today had been remarkably difficult on him, the strain of so much work. He relinquished control of many of the undead that he had risen in these halls, leaving them as mindless until the drow could get them in line. It wasn't his issue anymore. |
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| Diana Sin | Tue Oct 25, 2011 4:44 pm Post #20 |
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Diana watched as Graham brought his newest monster to life, watched the large figure rise up and make it's claim on life with it's first breath. It was a fearsome looking sort of creature, and she rather liked it. She had no idea what sort of thought process it had, but she imagined it was of very limited intelligence if only for the expression on it's face. She supposed not all the hordes of the undead could be intelligent like herself, otherwise they wouldn't make a good horde. Diana considered his offer, giving a sinister gaze to the drow in the room if only to laugh at them for the disgust and fear in their eyes. "I've eaten recently," she said simply. "But I think I might as well watch the last act of this show." She watched as the team of undead exited the room, then looked back to the room. "Anyone touches the woman I brought here, I'll rip you apart." She smiled to show her fangs and then left to follow Graham and his monster. Oh, what a monster it was. As soon as it found something to kill it seemed to do so with terrifying power. "I need my own," she whispered to herself, imagining a towering man servant obeying her will and killing on command. Then again, she wondered how Ashlynn would take something like that walking around with them. Perhaps Hope would like him though. Yes, that would look sweet to see the dancing wisp around the large yet dimwitted undead. "Quite the beast you made," she said to Graham. "I wonder what you could possibly make next." She smiled a little, hoping maybe she would get invited to the next show he gave, just as long as she was not an ingredient to any recipes he might cook up in that dark little mind of his. Best not to say anything about that in case it just made him curious what he could use vampire parts for. |
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| Balthazar | Wed Oct 26, 2011 7:09 pm Post #21 |
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Pain... his body ached and he could hardly move without the familiar and unwelcomed ache grabbing his heart with its sharp claws. The boy had no idea where he was, the floor under his body was cold and slippery as if someone had spilled a certain kind of extra thick water all over the stone plates of the flooring. As the boy tried to move his back ached even worse and caused his fingers to close and the thick liquid that smelled sour and metallic slipped through his fingers making the child realize that he was lying in a pool of blood. He gasped and tried to sit up but the pain in his back caused him to groan and he fell back into the sea of blood, his breath fast and painful. As he tried to lat still a flood of different emotions and senses that made the young lad feel even more confused. The last time he had fallen asleep he had been in the forest close to some kind of quarry and he had heard the sounds of many men but also women working, some of them seemed to cry because of missed sibling that had died in a quake inside the pit. Now he was surrounded by the metallic scent of blood and his ears filled with screams and voices but also the roaring of beasts. Metal hit metal as men and women clashed together with each other, their armors and weapon hitting steel and the floor but something was strange; the cried of the fallen soon ended and the screams was replaced by weird and inhuman roars. So many voices all calling at the same time and the scent of sweat and, by some reason the smell of rotten flesh and the sticking smell of smoke as if something was burning. By all means, the boy had ended up on a battlefield, neither the weight of his weapon or his wandering staff was close and he was lying, immobilized in the blood of the fallen. Fear grabbed him and he had to bit his lip to stop himself from screaming in terror and confusion. How had he gotten here? Where was this place and which kind of people killed each other all around him? being blind there was no way he would be able to tell where the exit was, nor would he get away from attacks since he had no way of knowing their directions. Perhaps it was better to lay still and pretend not to be alive? The strategy seemed to become useless the moment he thought it since he heard a cry from a female voice that seemed to be aimed for something other than the battle. The boy caught the sound of her feet and then he heard her fall on her knees beside him and the heavy breath she had got from the run, by some reason the wounded kid could hear the sound of bells as the woman moved, whoever she was. She smelled of blood and a weak scent of rotten flesh, (perhaps he imagined it?) and her voice was a little raspy, as if her throat had been damaged long ago. She spoke to another person as she tore the remaining parts of his shirt of his back, the boy gasped as some of the burned fabric that had mixed with his wound was ripped away. "What happened?" the female said. After a short pause the boy could hear another raspy and rather old-sounding voice answered her. "He was hit by a mage's attack..." a man said and the boy heard claws on the stones as he moved a little closer to the wounded and the girl. The smell of an animal and the disgusting stink of rotten meat became almost too much for the boy and he could feel that he was close of pass out once more. _______________________ It was like a nightmare but worse than anything the guards had managed to scare him with as he was a child. The slave turned to the battle mage whose name was Arcanna and even thou she was cold she was very strong and had managed to help the young slave more than any other of the members of the riot but now he was watching her being ripped apart in front of him, he being too far away to even move a muscle to help her. The creature that came from nowhere looked like the face of a true monster and the slave found his lips unmovable and his tough like ice in his mouth. Without any warning, a cold hand suddenly gripped the back of his neck and the young man tried to spin around but found himself unable to do that. Then, some kind of spell was released from the hand of the phantom and as it hit the slave's flesh a cold and terrible pain started to spread. His face became twisted with pain and he breathed deeply so that he wouldn't scream. The flesh of his right arm in which he held the sword was being stripped of the skin and black blood dripped on the floor. He could smell the scent of the monstrous scientist and the pain and stink of rotten meat made the phantom's words vague and without meaning. It was impossible to stand, his legs was shaking and the pain did at least manage to get the boy down on his knees, without a weapon and any chance of fighting back all the slave could do was bow at the feet of the man that he despised more than anything. The monster swept past the slave and he could hear the ghoul come closer, its hands stained in the battle mage's blood. It launched itself towards the slave and he could feel it's teeth in his arm even thou it was like a dream. The creature pulled and just as the rotting reached his shoulder the monster ripped the arm clean off, the black blood and the red mixing together on the stone floor. The boy screamed and fell to the ground, the ghoul on top of him, immobilized and still weaponless. The creature smelled of rotten meat and earth and for a heartbeat the boy and the monster meet each others' eyes and it was as if a little light passed on the monster's before it growled and followed its master, leaving the child to die of loose of blood. Certain that the back of the ghoul was the last thing he would see, the boy closed his eyes and gave in to the darkness. |
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