| Welcome to Imythess, the border between dreams and reality. We hope you enjoy your visit. Imythess is a creative writing board where you narrate the story of a character in the medieval land of Imythess, on the planet Chaon. Each topic is an opportunity for your character to interact with the world and its peoples by cooperatively writing pieces of a story with other members, one post at a time. We call this role-playing, because you assume the identity of your character as if it were your own. In order to play, you must register an account for each character you would like to write about, and begin their tale by filling out their basic profile information: Race (human, elf, demon, etc.), class (warrior, mage, etc.), physical appearance, and any other personal details you would like to describe. You are also encouraged to come up with some background history information for what your character's life has been like up to the point at which their story in Imythess begins. There is no approval process or application required to join, so long as you follow the rules then you are free to write whatever character details you choose. Registration is simple, fast, and completely free. Create a character now! If you're already a member, you can log into your account below: |
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| [O] Holy Blood; Open [One other please] | |
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| Topic Started: Wed Dec 3, 2008 2:09 am (310 Views) | |
| Nemael | Wed Dec 3, 2008 2:09 am Post #1 |
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Nemael walked slowly along the faint path, the only spot going through the blessed fields, not travelled often despite its history of an angelic victory. A black velvet cloak was pulled tight around him, to hide him from the cold. Though he was raised on the surface, his drow heritage made him fairly uncomfortable with cold temperatures, the underdark being a warm place, closer to the core and with the heated vents. Nemael spotted a tree standing alone, it was quite a thick one, and its trunk was stained red, likely with demon blood. Apples hung from its branches, looking quite healthy. Nemael eyed them warily, aware of what kind of fruits grew here. He was not sure what holy fruit would do to him, but he didn’t want to know. Upon coming into hearing distance, Nemael cocked his head, walking around the tree. The thick trunk had hidden a band of men in beige robes, stained with dirt and sweat from their travels. Nemael smirked a little, glad for some company. His bones ached, muscles sore. He had run out of things to eat a while ago and was running on pure will. The monks hushed as he approached, with his hood up. He held his cloak together with his left hand, the dark steel hiding his black skin. Nemael came into their camp, looking at the men with green eyes. The shadows of his hood and the early hour cast a shadow over his face. The men looked at each other warily, shrugging. One stood and extended a hand to him. “Welcome, stranger. Are you here to collect the blessings the celestials have bestowed upon this field?” Nemael looked at the hand, eyebrow cocked. The monk’s smile faltered, looking unsure now as he was this close. “I am simply passing through, but food would be greatly appreciated if you’ll have me.” Nemael replied warmly. The curly-haired man sighed and ran a hand through his brown hair, many rings flashing. Taking a closer look at the man, Nemael noticed his belly being held back by a large sash, a red nose, and a generally happy soul. Nemael grinned. |
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| ♥Cordelia Brooks | Fri Dec 12, 2008 3:09 am Post #2 |
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Oh, dear. Oh dear oh dear oh dear. Cordelia treaded lightly on the ground, walking on her toes and stepping silently. She had wandered into holy territory unknowingly and maybe, if she was inconspicuous enough, no one would notice or care. Normally she wouldn’t have dared any holy being to come at her, but the wound from Eliel’s blade was still fresh on her leg – healed, but the scar was still there. The piwafwi was held tightly against her, although the cold wasn’t something she could say she really felt. If anything the cold was normal for her, what with the whole ‘I’m undead’ thing she had going on. The wind whipped at her short, black hair, tangling it more than it already was. Cordelia grunted and pushed the locks from her face, continuing through the field. Her steps had become harder now that she had decided she only wanted to get out of here and back to Balefire. But then she could hear that soft drumming in her ears and she slowed, a smirk curving onto her face. The idea of how blasphemous it would be to kill on holy ground was too enticing for her to walk away from. Cordelia began to saunter in the direction of food, licking her lips and sweeping the cloak behind her, revealing the skirt of a black dress she had worn only once before. It was a hassle to wear dresses – in all honesty she loathed them with every fiber of her being – but her other clothes hadn’t seemed appealing this night. As she neared the camp there was a familiar sound and scent. Cordelia’s eyes widened with enthusiasm and she smiled, deciding to play a game she had played once with her late ex-best friend. “Nemmy, darling,” she called, cupping a hand to her mouth. She was silent while she closed the distance and, once near, wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “You should not to run away from your dearest aunt like that! You shouldn’t have just left me behind – I’m getting old, you know.” She winked and smirked, turning to the men. Their heart beats were so loud in her head she had to bite her lip to restrain herself. “I apologize if my nephew here was rude in any way. I hope he didn’t ask anything of you lot that was… out of the question.” She hoped Nemael knew where she wanted to go with this. |
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| Nemael | Fri Dec 12, 2008 3:39 am Post #3 |
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The monk was surprised when a second person had shown up, but not displeased. He shook his head with a chuckle. ‘oh no my dear, he’s done nothing of the like. A gentleman.’ The monk exclaimed cheerily, no idea of what was about to befall he and his band of merry men. Nemael beamed with happiness as Cordelia came around, putting an arm around him. His hood remained up, White hair hidden in the shadows. Placing an arm around cordelia’s waist, he rested his head on her shoulder for a moment. “I’m sorry auntie. I shouldn’t have run ahead.” He chuckled happily, voice somewhat more silky than before he was turned, more spiderlike in several fashions, but not unpleasantly so. Simply stronger and more graceful. ‘I’ll go get you two some nice hot stew then, shall i?’ the man said, clapping his chubby hands together as he walked away. Nemael looked to cordelia with a chuckle. His cloak opened a little, not enough to reveal any black skin, but enough to expose the normal half of Borael’s crosspiece. As the night air touched it, it reached out, running a very small conscious thought over Cordelia. Frowning, Nemael looked at the blade, discouraging it. The probe retreated. Smiling at Cordelia, Nemael whispered. “when?” He asked with a wink.” |
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| ♥Cordelia Brooks | Fri Dec 12, 2008 9:20 pm Post #4 |
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Cordelia smiled warmly, something that was hardly seen. Giving the monk such a precious smile that was meant for only the likes of family burned her inside and it was wiped from her face and turned into a cold stare the moment he turned his back. She lifted her hand from his shoulder and gently patted the top of his hooded head when it was leaned against her shoulder. “It’s all right, darling. Just don’t do it again and don’t ever leave me out of the fun.” Cordelia took the moment to look at him, having not seen him since his trip to the Underdark. He seemed well… she would have to inquire about it after their little game with these holy men was over. The monk walked away and Cordelia had to fight herself not to snort. Stew… who the hell ate that kind of crap? She wrinkled her nose but said nothing, turning to Nemael once he opened his cloak and she could see half of his blade. Cordelia could feel something emanating from it and running over her, although it was short-lived. Her eyebrows lifted and she looked to her godson for a little help to ease the confusion. “Um…?” she began, shaking her head once to signal he was supposed to explain now. A smirk spread over her face, breaking her lips apart to the point where her fangs were almost revealed. “When he returns,” she replied softly. “I’ll let you begin, my dear. I want to see how your skills have improved.” |
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| Nemael | Sat Dec 13, 2008 9:25 pm Post #5 |
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Nemael smiled at her, nodding. The man bent over a pot with two bowls, scooping greenish soup with various vegetables floating inside. Frowning at first, nemael wiped the expression away when he turned, coming back with the bowls tucked between arm and chest. He handed one to nemael, then offered the second to cordelia. Nemael pulled his hood down, exposing black skin and white hair, murky green eyes gleaming. Nemael tossed the bowl up and had Borael out of its sheath in seconds, Black blade gleaming with thin silvery lines, only visible under bright starlight. Three spider-legs of the same black steel reached from the front half of the crosspiece, stretching over to protect his hand. The blade itself stretched almost four feet. In a second Nemael slashed out, drawing five thin red lines across the front of the monk’s brown robe, in the shape of a star. The pentagonal middle fell away from the man, a layer of flesh with it. His guts spilled from the star shaped hole, the man’s hands attempting to stop himself spilling his innards. Nemael laughed, too overjoyed to notice the man behind him, running at him, dagger in hand. The blade plunged deep into nemael’s chest, puncturing his heart. Nemael shuddered, bringing boreal back and stabbing the monk in the sternum. Both figures froze in place for a couple seconds, nemael’s eyes closed. The dagger in his back slowly slid out of its own accord, falling to the ground with a clatter. The monk turned gray and nemael felt his life force flood through his arm with a jerk, healing his punctured heart, closing the wound, and restoring his strength. Nemael laughed coldly, turning to the monk. Their eyes mat and the monk coughed, blood seeping into the robe. Nemael grabbed the little hair the man had behind his head, bringing him close. Nemael’s blood was pumping with adrenaline, trying to rid itself of the excess energy. With animalistic enthusiasm, nemael sunk his teeth into his throath, biting down hard. His teeth sunk deep, halfway up his gums in bloody gore. Latching on, Nemael ripped his head free, pulling an apple-sized chunk of skin, veins, and windpipe out with it. Spitting the glob out, nemael wiped his mouth on his sleeve, licking his lips, eyes still closed. "Your turn auntie." |
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| ♥Cordelia Brooks | Sun Dec 14, 2008 1:06 am Post #6 |
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Long before Nemael had told her it was her turn, Cordelia had begun to fight. She had dropped the piwafwi, finding it difficult to fight in, and unsheathed the vampiric blade that she had acquired. The first monk she went to seemed wary about striking a woman, but his hesitance was the end of him. Cordelia laughed deeply as her blade sunk through his chest and a satisfied grin twisted her lips. The happiness and enjoyment in her eyes was unsettling, albeit hardly out of character for her. To kill was to find peace and to find something worth while… but overall, hell; it was just fun and entertaining! Blood began to spill over his lips as he coughed and she sucked in his life energy through the blade. She sheathed her sword in a fluid motion, the palm of her left hand beginning to grow hot. This spell always made her tense, but it yielded such wonderful results that she was willing to endure what it did and what it possibly could do to her. Cordelia spun on her heel and snapped out her left arm, a long chain of fire hitting one of the group members that had been coming to try to stop her. The fire lash hit him and knocked him on the side and she pulled on it, causing it to whip around his waist. The man was brought to his knees and screamed in agony. An absolutely gleeful expression was on her face, almost like that of a child’s on Christmas morning. Black sparks began to ring around the fingers of her right hand and she shot them at the man, throwing her head back and cackling as she felt him go limp in her hold. Enervated. Once she had calmed herself, the fire lash disappeared in a puff of smoke and she took a deep breath, turning to Nemael. Her eyebrows rose with interest when he sunk his teeth into the other’s neck and she smirked, giggling softly when he told her it was her turn. “I already took my turn, my dear,” she said in a smooth, silvery sort of voice. “But hunny, if you’re going to act like a vampire, you should do it the right way.” Cordelia began to walk back to him, tilting his head to look at her with just her index finger. “Do you want to be one, sweetie? You are part of my family, after all. You’re deserving.” |
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| Nemael | Sun Dec 14, 2008 4:26 pm Post #7 |
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Nemael’s face went solemn as he thought, looking her over. Did he want to become a vampire? To sustain himself on the lifeblood of others? He could feel Borael’s approval, not understanding the words, but the intention was clear enough for the vampiric blade. Nemael thought for a moment on one thought. He would never see the daylight again, to do so would be death. But the drow was and always will be a creature of the dark. Nemael’s face melted into a warm grin, a devilish gleam in his eyes. “Yes please auntie Cordelia.” He said, a hint of childish excitement in his words. After all, he was only truly two years old. Nemael looked into her eyes and waited for her reaction. His thoughts wandered over the possibilities. Vampirism would bring him to a whole new level of power and strength, become attuned to Borael that would make their previous relationship appear nothing more than a business partnership. With that power he could become an unbeatable swordsman, seeing as he was one of the quickest and strongest as it was. Nemael let himself have a small, joyful laugh, enjoying the feeling of the last trickle of hot, sticky blood running down his throat, a remainder of his gruesome meal, taken from the throat of a holy man on a holy landed soaked in the blood of angels and demons alike. If only his father could see him now. |
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| ♥Cordelia Brooks | Sun Dec 14, 2008 9:10 pm Post #8 |
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Cordelia gave him a genuine smile when he said yes and walked forward, placing her hands on each of his shoulders. He would make a fine addition to their race and to her family line; she could feel it just looking at him. Nodding in approval, she moved her hand from his left shoulder to his neck and tilted his head to make the skin taut and give her more surface area. “I don’t know why you’re calling me Cordelia all of a sudden,” she mumbled, her eyes fixed on the vein in his neck. “I’m still Auntie Cordie, dear.” For just a moment her gaze broke away from his flesh and to his eyes, smiling once again. “Now be warned… this is probably going to hurt.” With that said Cordelia leaned in and without a moments hesitation sunk her fangs into his skin, holding him by the shoulders once more. Her grip tightened and she ripped at the skin, forgetting that this was her nephew for the time being. Instinct had set in and all there was here was blood that had to be hers! Toward the end she managed to control herself and she drew back, although she held onto him with one arm in case she had weakened him more than she intended. Cordelia licked his blood away from her lips and swallowed, laughing quietly. She lifted her free arm to her mouth and made a small incision in the vein at her wrist, watching the dark, coagulated blood leak out for a moment before she held it out for Nemael to take. “I’m sure you know what to do,” she said softly. |
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| Nemael | Sun Dec 14, 2008 9:33 pm Post #9 |
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Nemael jumped a little when her teeth sank in, biting his lip to bear the unexpected pain. Feeling himself go lightheaded, Nemael struggled to stay awake, feeding off the excess energy stored within Borael. Nemael almost passed out, falling more and more heavily into cordelia’s arm. Just before he blacked out, a sweet smell hit his nose, her voice luring him back into the night starlight. The drow’s eyes snapped open as he looked at her arm, thick blood lying neatly upon her pale skin. The drow leaned forward, closing his lips around the wound. He began to drink, keeping the cut open with his teeth, feeling the blood restore his own. He drank greedily, feeling himself growing stronger, back to his original strength and beyond. His strength was still returning in full when a flash and wave of sickening energy struck between arm and mouth, knocking him back. Dazed, the blademaster stood and shook the weariness form himself, vaguely aware of another presence, making him feel sick with its nearness. Between Cordelia and Nemael stood a seven foot, silver-skinned being, shining golden eyes flashing with a holy anger that burned into his soul. Nemael drew Borael, The blade seeming empowered in the solar’s presence. The crossguard, front side split into three spider legs that curved over his fingers, flexed, spidery limbs stretching and returning to their positions. Gathering himself, the drow stood to his full height, an entire foot shorter than the angel, but holding himself as strongly and with as much regality as any prince, Borael lowered. ‘I cannot allow this unholy act to pervade these fields, despite your allowed misdoings.’ The angel said with a voice that seemed to echo within itself, gesturing a silver hand to the bodies of the holy men. Nemael recognized the sigil upon the angel’s right forearm, the same as on the blade it held, which Nemael knew so well. Nemael had wielded that blade, and used it to behead his own father, the man who was bonded body and soul with the angel standing not six feet away. Nemael hissed, spitting a blood-filled orb at the angel’s feet. “And you would see to it that we do not finish?” He challenged Luriel. ‘I would.’ Nemael laughed, raising Borael. “Come then.” He said humorously, running at the angel, one thought flashing through his mind before it became set on the battle: He wondered how an angel’s lifeblood tasted. |
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| ♥Cordelia Brooks | Mon Dec 15, 2008 3:09 am Post #10 |
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Cordelia smiled once he began to drink from her; everything would be okay now. He might have been weak, but her blood would restore him and help him reach the greatness that was destined to befall him. She leaned over to kiss his head and moved to tuck his hair behind his ears, not wanting him to get her sticky blood in his beautiful white hair. Something went wrong, though. Nemael was torn from her arm and the two of them were knocked away from each other. Suddenly she felt sick and she held her stomach, doubled over, hissing. Her legs were shaking and it was hard to remain standing. Holy energy… she had known this sickness, this unease, around only one object but it wasn’t the sort of thing a person could just forget. With some hesitance and a bit of a struggle Cordelia lifted her chin from her collar bone, her eyes widening at the sight before what stood before her. A celestial, a full-blooded celestial. She swallowed and began to step back, wanting to lessen his affects on her and increase the distance for her own damned safety. A growl rose up from the depths of her throat when she saw the tattoo on his arm. “Why the hell are you back here? You should be dead,” she snarled. He should have died along with that bastard Eliel, but apparently that wasn’t so. “You ruined Eliel, and now you’ll try to ruin Nemael? I won’t have it… god dammit, I won’t have it! I was only giving a lonely child a family, you call that wrong?! You’re sick…” Cordelia wasn’t going to let Nemael fight this by himself. She sprang into action and ran at Luriel, but before she could so much as get her weapon out she was knocked back by a flood of holy energy. Cordelia screamed and landed in a curled heap on the ground, multiple cracks resonating throughout their small area. Her breath left her and her chest felt like it was being constricted, her stomach like it was on fire. Cordelia forced a whimper and began to thrash weakly on the ground, finding that even trying to express her pain hurt too much. Damn celestial… |
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| Nemael | Mon Dec 15, 2008 4:05 am Post #11 |
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Nemael was about to plunge his black blade into the angel’s massive chest when cordelia began to yell at the angel, cursing at and moving to stab it. Nemael shouted to her incomprehensibly and reached out to her, watching as the angel released the energy towards her. Nemael watched as if in slow motion as she screamed and whimpered in pain. Lowering his hand, Nemael’s eyes gleamed, we with held back tears as he watched his only family writhing. Lowering his head, Nemael gave a snarl, baring his fangs as immeasurable rage overtook him, anger at this angel, this thing of good, this thing that hurt those he cared for. Shuddering, Nemael looked to be on the verge of either exploding or breaking down. His breaths were shaken, rattling as Borael struck his mind, willing him to attack this angel with all he had. All he had was highly unhealthy for his enemies in any dosage. Nemael froze in place, breathing evening out. Reaching into his pouch, Nemael pulled out a leather strip, the same one his father had used when about to fight. Binding his short white hair back, Nemael looked at the angel with gleaming green eyes. The drow pulled Borael parallel with himself, running at the angel full speed, inhumanly so. Too many factors, vampirism included, pushed his physical abilities to incredible heights. The angel sent a bolt of holy energy at him carelessly, point blank. Nemael twisted to the right and backwards, winding up. His feet lifted off the ground in a flip, spinning in a screw motion, a foot and a half off the ground. Borael slashed a thin red line against silver skin, increased power countering the resistances to physical damage. Nemael felt a rush of energy rushing through him, the angel’s life force. Twisting in the air to land on all fours low, he used his momentum to ride low and sling himself backwards, against the tree. Landing as lightly as a feather, he bounced off, twisting in mid air above the seven foot solar’s head, seeking to decapitate him. Blade met blade as the equally skilled angel raised luriel, demonic and angelic blades clashing. Nemael pushed, sending both blades slashing at each other’s sides. Luriel traced a silver line lengthwise over Borael’s blade, Borael digging deep into the angelic sword, digging a gouge sideways. Nemael landed behind the angel, diving in. His blade sank into silvery flesh, puncturing a lung. He felt the rush of life energy, letting it fill him. He felt like he was going to burst, there was no way he could hold so much! The angel stepped off the blade, holding the wound. Staring at Nemael with uncannily scanning eyes, it took off in flight with two short bursts from large wings. A ripple of holy energy ran over the encampment, burning Nemael. He writhed on the ground, feeling a tug from Borael. The monk’s bodies jerked, silvery mists floating out. Nemael knew he would be fine, but what about cordelia? Holding his burning insides, Nemael staggered over to his aunt, attempting to make her hold onto Borael’s hilt as well, to heal the both of them as the blade absorbed the souls and healed. |
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| ♥Cordelia Brooks | Mon Dec 15, 2008 8:43 pm Post #12 |
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((OoC: meep, I hope you can get a reply off this. XD lol.)) -------------- Cordelia’s eyes opened and closed sporadically, unable to stay one way for too long before the burning intensified. There was a ringing in her ears that maddened her mind and travelled down through her, setting her insides aflame and trying to destroy her from the inside out. The last time hadn’t been this bad; she had hardly expected it to be as agonizing as it was this time. Cordelia forced herself to suck in a breath, her chest rising as much as it could before that air escaped her only a few moments later. Pain… extreme, extreme pain was all there was. Blinding whiteness when she closed her eyes, dizzied surroundings when she opened them – and her body felt like it wasn’t there. She couldn’t move her fingers or her toes and the only thing that reminded her she was even still on this plane of existence was the fact that Luriel’s power was slowly tearing her asunder. Shades of gray began to tint her marble white skin as, slowly, it began to die. It was a slower process than being burned by fire and she suddenly wished that this had been fire – fire hurt less, as she was learning. Cordelia couldn’t even cry; it hurt too much to even think about releasing it that way. Just when things were lessening, there was another burst and Cordelia’s mouth dropped, her lower lip trembling. A red film moistened her widened eyes and she somehow found the ability to dig her fingers into the ground at her side as she screamed again. She had ceased to breathe a long time ago but now she felt almost forced to, her breaths tiny and raspy; had breathing been a necessity to her she wouldn’t have survived. She could barely see Nemael approach her and the hilt of his blade blended in with the rest of the environment too much to see. Cordelia clenched her eyes shut and managed a groan, blood tears leaking from her closed eyelids. “Get out… of… here…” she choked, reached a hand out to try and shoo him away. He was more important than she was, it was more important for him to get out of here than her. She had made it out of tight situations before, she could do it again – he didn’t have to worry about her wellbeing. “It’s not safe…” Keeping her hand up was too much effort; as it fell, her hand landed on Borael’s hilt. She fell silent, feeling its power pulse through her fingertips, growing numb and yet feeling a strange excitement and just… feeling alive. Cordelia tightened her grip on the hilt, her gray-tinted, emaciated fingers wrapping around it so tightly the bones of her knuckles popped out somewhat from under the skin. She lay on the ground on her side, her skirt twisted between her legs and the piwafwi just as tangled as the rest of her body was. The clouds overhead darkened and meshed together. Snow began to fall. |
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| Nemael | Mon Dec 15, 2008 11:54 pm Post #13 |
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Nemael felt Cordelia’s hand drop to the hilt, felt Borael’s power split between the two of them, washing them with healing and an unholy wave to counter the holiness of the celestial, doing everything to restore the two to their full strength. Nemael felt the first snowflake touch his nose, relived mostly by the fact he could feel anything at all. He was surprised at the touch, he could feel every line in the snowflake, could feel every detail. At that moment he realized the sheer amount of detail he felt, how each drop in the blade’s engravings felt like a valley, each rise a mountain. He could smell the blood of the monks around him, each one holding a slightly different scent. The drow shook his head, clearing the cobwebs. Leaving Borael in cordelia’s hand, Nemael walked over to one of the monk’s bodies. The only one whose soul had not been drawn into the blade. The man breathed shallowly, eyes closed. Nemael smiled. Playing dead? Reaching down, Nemael seized a handful of hair, pulling him up. A youthful one, this. The man’s eyes shot wide open as he was lifted, swinging back and forth, trying to break Nemael’s iron grip. The drow leaned in, opening his mouth wide. Sinking his fangs slowly into the pale neck, he felt the first stream of hot, sticky blood running down his tongue. Nemael felt strange, he didn’t quite have the instinct to have to drink so much as he wanted to for fun. The siring had gone awry. Nemael felt anger at the angel, clamping his jaws on the man’s neck, closing the windpipe. The monk’s heart beat faster, pumping blood into his maw. Nemael enjoyed the first rush of blood, then grew bored with it. This shouldn’t happen! The drow slammed the man against the tree, plunging his left hand into his chest claws first, wrapping fingers around the still-beating organ. Nemael hissed as steam billowed from the gaping wound, blood staining the piling snow red. |
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| ♥Cordelia Brooks | Tue Dec 16, 2008 12:44 am Post #14 |
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Cordelia felt Nemael begin to walk away and wished that he hadn’t. She closed her eyes and relaxed for a few moments, feeling the energy soak into her, restoring her. The pain had eased now that this unholy energy was combating the celestial’s powers and she managed to bring her legs up to curl into a ball of her own accord. Slowly but surely her skin began to fade back to white and feeling returned to her. The first thing she felt now that the agony had dissipated was a cold, moist substance hitting her cheek. Her eyes lifted to the sky, seeing tiny white dots scattering the black sky. Something akin to a smile upturned her lips; childish as it seemed Cordelia had always loved snow. Each ornate detail of each flake, the pureness and newness to it when it first fell – it was almost something sacred that not even a being as evil as she could dare to blaspheme. Cautiously she began to sit up, her arms shaking somewhat from fatigue. She looked down at the ground and used Borael to help right herself, adjusting until finally she was able to sit in such a way that she was on her knees with Borael stuck into the ground in front of her. Not once did her hands leave the hilt, and not once did her eyes ever tear away from Nemael. “He ruined it, didn’t he?” she spat, noticing how Nemael wasn’t quite what she would call ‘satisfied’. “I knew it… god dammit, that bastard ruined it!” One hand lifted away from the hilt to punch the ground and she looked down, her black hair falling to veil her face. “The next time we see him, he dies,” she decided. “He dies and I don’t care what it takes to do it. He’s ruined our lives enough already and he won’t take anymore.” Cordelia forced herself to her feet, teetering on unsteady legs. “What else can we do to summon him, huh? Figure it out!” |
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| Nemael | Tue Dec 16, 2008 1:10 am Post #15 |
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Nemael noticed the flow of blood beginning to slow, the man growing limp. Determined to have a good ending to this one, Nemael squeezed. Under his cold fingers the heart burst, exploding in a wave of gore. Turning back to cordelia, he sliced a strip of cloth away from the monk’s chest with one claw. Cleaning the gauntlet, Nemael closed his eyes, fuming. “He did.” Dropping the sopping cloth, he opened his eyes. A tear ran down his cheek as the drow walked forward, wrapping cordelia in a hug. He rested his head on her shoulder. The two were almost the same height, he was only an inch taller. Throughout the entire hug, Nemael only gave one breath, thinking. Despite his appearance, his power, his very personality, Nemael was only two years old. A baby yet, every experience new and powerful to his inexperienced eyes. This was possibly one of the greatest disappointments of his life, failing to become an actual family with the woman who was like a mother to him. Nemael remained like that, giving her one last squeeze, careful not to use all his strength. The drow pulled away, fury evident on his face. “We find a holy man.” He hissed. “And we make him come to us.” |
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5:01 PM May 23
