Snippet #2405879

Melek – Valeish cultist of the Idol
Azermaine Streets

There was fog, both inside and out. In front of his eyes he could see the fog hiding the buildings around him from sight and in his mind the fog clouded every rational thought. Only urges remained, urges Melek had absolutely no control over. The fog in his mind was such that even the strange shapes in the fog, almost Valeishlike in appearance didn’t bother him. All he could do was walk, or shuffle, slowly, inching ever closer to his destination. With this unholy fog seeping into the city there was no one out on the streets. The people of Azermaine wisely stayed indoors this day, for things worse than fog haunted the street.

But Melek wasn’t bothered or dissuaded. There was one place in the city where there was always someone around. A place where refuge gathered and a place where the disappearance of refuge wouldn’t be noticed. A place for the outlaws and other scum. A small place, especially for a city the size of Azermaine, but a place nonetheless. And Melek knew where it was. He was only a corner away now. His mumbling continued as he went round the corner and headed into the seedier part of Azermaine.

It wouldn’t be long before he was accosted by one of the residents. A large man by any account, with a bulging stomach and bulging muscles. With knife in hand he made it clear he wasn’t looking for a fight, he simply wanted Melek’s worldly possessions and nothing more. The man’s size might’ve served him well in similar encounters in the past, but his luck had run out. With incredible, unvaleish speed Melek’s hand shot out and closed around the man’s wrist, crushing it within moments. A simple elbow to the side of his head as the men fell forward to cradle his crushed wrist finished the job. Melek then simply grabbed the man’s leg and dragged him away, slowly making his way back to the temple.

After walking for what felt like an eternity, Melek finally reached the temple. Hundreds of voices spoke, each in a recognisable language and voice, but the combination of the hundreds of voices made them all unintelligible. Not that it mattered. Melek was so close now. With a grin not his own he made his way down the stairs and into the cellar, still dragging the large man behind him. The men let out a soft groan as Melek placed him in front of the altar. Sparks flew from his fingertips as he ignited the final pyre. If the man screamed, Melek couldn’t hear it. His attention was drawn entirely to the Idol and the demon that lay within. The fire and smoke stung Melek’s eyes, making it hard to see, but he could hear the cracking and through tear filled eyes he could see the small statue changing. Growing larger, arms and legs growing more defined. Melek could see a more Valeish shape standing there now, though taller and thinner. It seemed to be wearing some kind of cloak that writhed and twisted as if alive, but Melek didn’t notice any of these things. All he could see was the pair of glowing eyes that stared straight at him.

Now was the time. The creature would never again be as weak as it was now. Melek took a step forward, gritting his teeth in determination, fighting of the voices and madness that polluted his mind. He would destroy it, he would-. Sudden stinging pain caused his leg to buckle. Strength left it as if it had never been there. Suddenly, Melek’s wounds began to slowly seep out blood and burned with a pain Melek hadn’t noticed before. And his head felt like it was but mere moments from bursting apart. The strength the Idol had given Melek was gone. The pain it was suppressing had returned. Melek stared up at the demon as it slowly shuffled towards him. For the first time he saw its face. A pair of glowing eyes, but nothing else, no mouth or nose to speak off. But that wasn’t entirely true. Melek could hear humming. As if a dozen voices all hummed a single tone continuously without stopping. Was it the demon that was humming so? A cold sweat dripped down Melek’s back as he realised it wasn’t humming he was hearing. It was the sound of screams, muffled to the point they were barely audible. And the screams were coming from the demon.

Even as Melek realised this, the demon moved a clawed hand up to its face and tore into it, tearing through the skin-like substance that lay where its mouth would be. Even as it did, the screams became louder and louder. And once it completed its tearing, they were deafening and spread out throughout the cellar and into the temple and beyond. The Idol was free… and hungry.