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Snippet #2404837

located in Aurora, a part of Prophecy, one of the many universes on RPG.




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Character Portrait: Toran Character Portrait: Bandrial the Wicked.
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The smell was, well, it was never something that could be gotten used to. The smell of rotting carcasses, burning flesh and wood, and finally the foul smell of shit that accompanied the raw amount of dead. Toran could already make out the sounds of the crows cawing eager to tear into the flesh of the dead, ready for the feast to come. Beyond that, the ringing of metal and shouting could still be heard as pockets of resistance remained throughout the maze of streets and alleyways, but the battle was already a fore gone conclusion. The second the walls had fallen; the city had fallen.

Toran stepped over the body of a dead woman, her clothes so shredded they were barely clinging to her pale form anymore. From the way she was sprawled out and the thin line that was drawn across her neck, Toran could hazard a guess as to what had happened to the raven haired woman. She had been used. Repeatedly, by the looks of it, and finally her throat was slit when they grew tired of her. A very common scene.

Pausing, Toran ran his eyes over the buildings and cobbled stone that made up the street, bodies were piled high and merely half an hour ago blood ran in rivers down the street. At one point, the limbs and blood were up to his thighs, and it forced him to wade through it. Now, it was almost unnerving. All those people and yet no sound from them. No movement. Down the street, Toran could see soldiers stabbing the corpses with spears to ensure no one was able to hide among the dead. The city was to be purged.

Toran paused in front of a house, inside was the corpse of yet another woman, but this was different. She was.. beautiful. Even her pasty pale skin or the smell perforating from her body could not mask such beauty. Toran stepped through the broken door and crouched next to the corpse grabbing the dead woman's face and turning it to inspect it. He was mildly surprised to find make-up still clinging to her flesh, she was most likely a consort for a nobleman. He paid her and showered her in luxury, she then spread her legs for him in return. It was a common enough profession for a beautiful woman like her. Toran reached for his dagger when a whimper caught his attention.

Standing slowly, Toran turned on his heel examining the wall behind him till his eyes rested on a closet that was just barely open. Moving towards it, Toran reached out with his black gauntlet and tore the door open earning a scream from a high shrill voice. Instinctively, he reached for his blade, but stopped when he noticed what had produced the sound.

She couldn't have been older then eleven. Her face was streaked in tears, and she was clutching onto her legs. How long had she been there? Toran wasn't sure, but he did know one thing. The dead woman had put her in there to hide her. The young girl saw everything. She had watched as the woman, who was most likely her mother, was beaten and raped over and over again by blood covered men, and she had sat in there. In that closet holding her own mouth to stop herself from screaming.

Toran glanced back at the dead figure that he was about to disfigure moments ago, she had done well. There were terrible men in the world. Men who would have taken the child over the mother... Toran turned back to the girl who was obviously in shock and extended his hand to her, "Come." He commanded his voice sounding far more menacing then he had intended.

The girls eyes changed. It was a look Toran had seen before, acceptance. The girl understood what was going to happen and had accepted the fact that she would not live to see her next birthday. The girl took his hand, her own hand looking dainty compared to his own, and with a tug, he pulled her to a feet, but a voice cut him off.

"Found yourself a tight one, eh?" Toran turned his head to the source and grimaced at the sight. The soldier had not a speck of blood on him, which meant he had hidden behind his fellow soldiers as they did the work. The man had boils on his face and was chewing on something, and Toran had an idea as to what. Krill Moss. A red grass that many men in the army chewed on or drank as it calmed their nerves, but it was addictive. Too much of it over time would warp the mind and make them dependent on it.. Too much Moss at once would kill. The man spit, the red grass was covered in red liquid, and Toran was able to see into the mans mouth as he opened it to clean it with his pinkie. The mans teeth were brown, what few remained of course, and that meant he had been chewing Krill for a long time and in great frequency.

"Mind if I go a round with her after you?" He asked leaning on the wall inspecting his pinkie that had just been in his mouth moments ago, "I mean, if you are even going. They talk about you." He said turning his hand over to examine his nails. Toran had seen many men, and knew this man's mind was not all there any more.

Letting go of the child's hand, Toran moved to the stove and tossed some wood into the metal contraption, and began to rifle through the cabinets looking for something to light it before growing frustrated and drawing his blade. "Khadon." Toran said simply. Without a word, Toran pushed the burning blade into the oven and ignited the dry wood. "That your famous sword then?" The man said, "I hear you use it in place of your prick." If Toran heard, he paid no mind.

Toran sheathed the blade and grabbed a fire poker and began to move the wood around to get the flames nice and high, "Mighty Toran." The man mocked, "Bah, your just a murderer and a fiend, just like old Donal here." He said pointing to himself as he stepped into the room and then he spread his arms out, "I mean, its not like you use it." He said and grabbed the arch where his legs met, "Hell. You have never even done it have you?"

Ignoring the man, Toran pulled out the white hot iron fire poker examining it close to his helm, "Well, I see your busy." The man said moving towards the girl, "So I'll just take her out back. Unless you want to watch?" He said and shot his hand out to grab the girl's long blond hair in his meaty fist. The girl let out a scream of pain, "See? She likes it."

Tor. Please... Help me. Toran's eyes glossed over as he heard a voice from long ago. Shaking his head, he shot his arm out, quick as a viper, and grabbed the mans wrist applying pressure until the girl was able to pull herself free from the grip.

"The fuck.." The man said before his words turned to screams as the hot metal was slapped against the side of his face. The smell of burning flesh overpowered the smell of the long dead woman, and the sound of screaming and struggling filled the air. His skin bubbled and warped from the intense heat. The man's eyes started to roll as he went into shock. Toran yanked the crude weapon away from his face tearing off seared skin and revealing those brown teeth through the hole in his chick. The man reached up to his face before turning to flee, but Toran stepped forward and stuck the fire poker through the mans chest. 'Donal' took two steps before falling face first into the wood floor.

Toran glanced back at the closet to see the girl holding herself once more and even rocking herself this time. With a grunt, Toran leaned down and grabbed the mans leg and pulled him out of the small house to rot in the street; the girl did not need to be in the same room as that man.

He was about to turn and reenter the house before an idea floated through his mind, and he crouched next to the foul corpse and rifled through his pockets until he came upon a soft pouch. Yanking back the strings, Toran peered inside to see the large ball of Krill Moss, and he gave a soft nod. "Be glad." Toran said to the corpse, "For once your miserable life has produced something of value."

Reentering the house, he ignored the child and moved to the stove once more searching the cabinets until he came upon a pot. Toran was glad to find a small bowl of water that was left over and poured it into the pot and set it upon the stove watching as the water started to bubble.

"What is your name?" Toran said still watching the pot, his metallic voice breaking the silence.

"T-" The shaky voice started, "Tira.", "You are going to kill me? Aren't you.." She said softly. Tira already knew the answer, but she had to hear it...

"Yes." Toran confirmed, "You will not leave this house alive."

"Then why don't you do it?" Tira said fresh tears threatening to spill out, "Are you playing with me?"

"I could snap your neck before you had time to scream." Toran said easily. It was not a threat, merely a statement of fact, "I could tear open your stomach and choke you with your own guts." He lifted the pot up with the aid of a rag he had found nearby, "Or." He said pouring the steaming water back into the bowl, "I can give you something to drink."

Tira moved, and Toran fought the urge to look back to see what she was doing until he heard the loud snap of fabric smacking against fabric. With the contents in the bowl, Toran glanced back to see the girl standing next to the now covered form of her mother.

"I know who you are." The girl said softly, "The man called you Toran..."

The man in question took the pouch and let it sit in the water letting it stain the water with its... quality. "You are the butcher of Baron's Field." Tira said softly, "My mother used to tell me." She said her voice breaking, "To go to sleep else the Wicked Queen would set her monster on me."

"Hm." Toran said to show that he was indeed listening as he dipped the pouch in and out of the water turning it redder. He had heard as such before, and knew that in many parts of the kingdom he had become akin to the terror under the bed.

Tira lowered herself against the wall and once again wrapped her arms around her legs. With the tonic made, Toran gripped the bowl and moved over to her holding it out for her to drink. Tira took the bowl from his hand and looked at the deep crimson liquid, "Will it hurt?" She asked him, staring up at him with her large blue eyes that were still puffy from her tears.

"No." Toran said softly, "You will get tired and finally, you fall asleep. It won't hurt at all." Children. Toran knew he should hate them because they had what he never did, but... They were so innocent, and he truly did not wish to harm the child, but he would never disobey Her orders... even if it meant doing this.

Toran turned to leave, content to let the child die in dignity, but a small hand gripped his own once more, "Please don't leave me." Tira whispered, her voice hoarse.

Without a word, Toran lowered himself to the ground next to her. He understood. She hated him for all he had done, but she didn't want to die alone. He watched as she drank the bowl before coughing at the foul taste. They sat there in silence as the minutes ticked by. As screams from the streets occasionally seeped into the house... Her soft voice shook him from his stupor, but he noticed how drowsy she sounded, "What is going to happen to me?"

"You.." Toran started, "Will be with your mother again." He said turning his head away from her because he could not bear to look into those blue eyes any longer. He knew he was supposed to tell her that she would burn for betrayal, but he just couldn't. Despite the fact that he would kill children when She commanded it; it always hurt. Even though he knew it was wrong to lie to her and tell her she would be at Bandrial's side when he knew she was not worthy... he could not help but lie to her. Even as he wove a story of the paradise, of lies, that awaited her; Toran felt like he was doing the right thing.

A sudden pressure on his arm cutting off his tale. Toran looked down to see the mop of messy blond hair and understood. Tira had passed away... Toran gently lowered her next to her mother's covered body. "I am sorry child." He whispered before bringing his pointer and middle finger to the front of his helm where his mouth would be and then to her forehead. "I hope you two find each other again."

Half an Hour Later

Toran looked up at the imposing keep. The banners were already torn down just as the once mighty gate was left smashed open. It seemed he had missed the final battle, but he had a job to do to ensure that every child was left dead. Pushing through the hanging timbers, Toran entered the great hall and was unprepared for the sight.

A large pile of bodies sat in the center of the marble floor. All of them women. All of them stripped naked. All of them dead. Toran ran his gaze around the hall to see numerous soldiers laughing and talking with another until finally his gaze fell upon the high table. His gaze past over two young women who appeared to be in their late teen years, as well as an older woman who held a regal beauty about her and from her silk dress, Toran assumed that was the duchess... At the center of the table in a gaudy wooden throne sat the same fresh faced lieutenant he had seen earlier that day. In front of him sat the severed head of a man, its face too distorted to tell who it was, but Toran had a feeling that was the duke of the city.

Toran understood the situation now. The lieutenant wanted to feel powerful once more. Serving under an old man with the title of 'high general' was something most noblemen's arrogant children didn't want to do, and this boy was most likely a second or third son who had no other choice then to pursue a military career. The display at the center was something he had seen before. Officers would pick one or two girls they had inclination for and then would show them a display. A demonstration of what would happen to them should they disobey. It would make them more... compliant.

"You missed it." The youth said with a smile that obviously spoke volumes of how proud of himself he was.

"I was fighting the real battle on top the walls and in the streets." Toran said easily still standing in the doorway, "But I do not remember seeing you up there."

The smile vanished as the youth glared at him in spite and, even, disgust, "I wouldn't sully my hands with such an act. That is the job for mere soldiers. I am a Varnen." The youth said raising his chin at the mention of his family name.

"Of course." Toran said, "As you say." His eyes narrowed as he spotted the Duchess's hand shoot out and grab hold of a small knife before disappearing back into the sleeve of her dress. His suspicion turned to one of enjoyment as he nodded to the young noble, "Enjoy your spoils. You earned it." With that, he turned on his heel and stormed out. He had to get back to the army and get his horse. He wanted to see Her once more. To hear Her speak to him... He needed it. After having to slay children... Just thinking about the idea of holding Her in his arms was enough to push him on.

It wasn't long afterwards that he caught word of the young boy being stabbed to death before the regal woman had slit her own throat. She preferred death to what would have happened to her, and Toran was pleased that he had decided to not mutilate her face when he saw her in that keep. The Goddess acted in mysterious ways after all.