Introduction
The year is 1440, the lords of the land have brought an iron fisted rule upon it. Mages are social pariah and are punished harshly upon discovery, a rising force comes however as the magic they possess drives them to madness. The elves are enslaved and are forced into harsh manual labor for fear they will turn against Man. The only hope for this land are the scarce heroes who face resistance against the lords of the land and their kingdoms.
The dragons have thus been hunted to extinction by the paranoia of the king and his men, only their bones are proof of their existence. Without cause for these actions they remain strong as their enemies march across the battlefield with their own armies.
- 25 posts here • Page 1 of 1
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This was where the doctor had secluded himself on this night, to observe his latest latest works. Knelt before what appeared to be a large iron chest, one with a sliding slot in order to look within he watched intently at whatever was inside. He took notes, breathing somewhat slowly, quietly mumbling to himself. At another corner of the room the sounds of scratching and rattling could be heard in other boxes of similar construct.
"Do you understand me? Can you speak yet?" he said softly, as a coughing could be heard within the box. He sighed and fished through one of his pockets to pull out a handkerchief, holding it up to the slot as a darkened hand pulled it through. "It'll pass, and then... we'll change everything, you and I."
A hissing wheeze could be heard, as one of the other boxes rattled. Hayden stood up and held his chest as he looked back to the box.
"Enough with that! What you did, you... that man was from the crown! Violence begets violence, and I'll have none of it here!" he began, spinning around to the box and stomping towards it, raising a leg and nearly kicking it in a fit of anger. He stops, and collapses on his knees before it. "No no no... my fault... not yours. No worries, you are not a failure... the only failures are those that don't wake up in the first place," he said, taking off his strange mask to wipe his face. Dark circles around his bloodshot eyes told of his sleepless nights.
She looked him in the eye, her own a seemingly blazen orange unlike any known on a human being. "Your creations, they would not see the light of day should the kings men sight them. I propose to you a deal that will benefit us both." She turned her back to him and observed the box that rattled. She kneeled to it and stroked her hand across its metal surface, shushing it in an almost motherly tone.
"W-what? Who..?" he stammered, out of breath, clutching a nearby chair to prop himself up. "H-how is it that you knew? I've told none, y-you... you... sensed them..? That would... that would make sense." he continued, taking a moment to hold his head, trying to collect himself, think logically through this situation. It didn't really change the fact that a magic user, of dubious intent no less, had effortlessly infiltrated his workshop. He was no fighter, so he had only one option. "A deal..? Of what sort?"
"I seek a simple goal, to overthrow the corrupt kingdom and the church that follows in its shadow. To do this, I need an army, an army you can provide." She reached out her arm to him, not in a hostile gesture but in a way to attempt to coerce him. Her hands were adorned with black metal gloves with bladed fingers, she scraped her index claw across his cheek in a way not unlike flirting.
A hiss came from the box, transitioning into a deep rattling growl. Scratching could be heard, as the slot was cracked open, and from it a bizarre eye peeked out, of brilliant green surrounded in inky black, both of and from beyond this world. The eye looked over at Hayden, then to Elyzabeth, the pupils in the eyes dilated into one aligned horizontally, something akin to an infinity shape, and the creature grumbled something.
"Nnnnn... touch," emitted a crude husky voice from within the metal container, a tone carrying some irritation. "You seek to survive..? I... grow, I ascend, I be... become the greater, than... than... the self," the creature trailed off for a moment, the eye twitched. "Unlock," the creature said after a moment of silence, as a demand, not a request. Hayden looked surprised at first, not that he wasn't already full of that today.
"Th-that would be dangerous!" he warned. Strangely, that warning seemed more directed at the creature than his uninvited guest.
"Speak, let us hear your voice." She spoke gently to it, but in a way to denote her authority over both it and its creator.
"Listen, this one's mind, I did something wrong, I did not realize the mixture's effect," Hayden began, his tone clearly panicked. "She would never harm me, but..."
"Open up in there, we are here by order of the king!" A crude and very uncivilized male voice echoed from above, pounding on the entrance above with what sounds like the pommel of a sword.
"Forgive me this offense I now commit," he said in shaky prayer, as the box's door was flung open. He stepped back a few steps as a figure emerged, breathing heavily. It was taller than him, just near as tall as Elyzabeth herself, covered in stained black bandages and tattered remnants of clothes, making for an appearance like flowing black robes. The hands were clawed, arms somewhat human-like, and there were six of them! The feet were large and like an animal's, giving powerful digitagrade legs attached to the feet, before transitioning into a somewhat more humanoid upper torso. Much of the rest was obscured with cloth, the face mostly covered with a scarf, except exposed teeth and some bone, eyes glowing green and wild staring down at Addler, broad pointed ears exposed and long black stands like hair hanging down. A matted, long striped tail swayed left and right, some lingering signs of what this creature once was.
"Your hands... are washed, mind at ease," Basalah said in a soft growl, before walking past him, brushing against him as strands of black flowed in the air. "These offenses are mine alone to make... bearing with joy."
He shuddered slightly, his breath was shallow. The creature he had thought successfully revived was now something else, cold and warm at the same time, cruel and gentle, he knew she would show no mercy, being something mad, broken, and incomplete. He feared her carnage, and he feared her death at the same time. He was conflicted, inconsolable. He swallowed hard, his vision glazed, his steps dizzied as he set towards each box, unlatching each. He had no choice, choice was taken from him, he had to continue, he couldn't just stop, something greater than him was on the line, and yet, he felt sick to his stomach. She would have her army.
As chaos raised throughout his workshop, spilling out into the upper floor, he stopped before the final box, coughing heard behind it. It was the one he had spoke to before his bout with Basalah, and Elyzabeth's arrival. He fell to his knees and placed a hand on it as he started to unlatch it. There was a sad look in his eyes as he cracked open the final box, and in the back were a pair of brilliant violet eyes glancing down. There was a different presence to this one compared to the others, an aura that flowed like a creek than a roaring river, and yet somehow it was one even more powerful, concentrated. This all clashed with the frail silhouette within.
"Here," he said as he reached in, pulling the figure out and onto his back. The figure was essentially human, young in appearance, with soft long inky black hair dressed in dark purple clothes stained with spots of black. From visible skin, it was pale, splotched in places with black, the hands and feet were bandaged. The figure held onto him tightly, quietly, a girl not much older than his sister when she died. With a somber sigh, he stood up with his precious cargo in tow. "Okay... I... I accept."
They did not give in to fear however, they charged in with their longswords drawn ready to draw blood and to cleanse this place of any freaks and abominations they say.
It became clear with these creatures that they didn't quite like to die, as even severed heads would still bite, as the knight would learn as the thing sprung back to life and lunged, snapping into his leg and biting deep like a trap. Yelling out, the man, despite how armored and trained he was, slumped over trying to remove it, only to be overwhelmed and torn apart by the other abominations. Visceral crimson intermixed with the black fluids, a combined artistry of carnage shared between both sides.
Amidst it all, another form emerged and walked callously amidst the chaos. It was the tall form of Basalah, gaze set forward, eyes burning green. From one of the soldier's corpses with a torn face and exposed sinew, she removed from his cold dead hand his sword still clutched and shaking, then another from his friend who died not far away, not quite attached to his person anymore. She walked through the intertwined exchange of viscera, wet steps splattering the crimson and obsidian. The soldiers were a mere obstacle at this point to her, and meeting her first, she drew back a blade, and swung down clashing it against his chest, though the armor blocked much of its swing, the force of it pressed in on his chest knocking the wind out of him, stumbling back, with her free hands she grabbed his arms and held him in place.
"Damned abomination of hell, I'll see thee returned to its place in-!" he cried out out, only for Basalah to wedge a blade into a crease of his armor at the shoulder and slowly impale into him. She held a finger to her mouth and hushed him.
"Now... be thee not... not sinner, o' slayer of men? What has come of the code to... to listen to the words of maidens..?" she asked mockingly, twisting the blade slightly.
"Augh! It sp-speaks!? Y-you are no-! What witchcraft, or demon whorespawn-!?" he cried out only to be cut off again as another blade was wedged into his other shoulder. Basalah's pupils dilated and teeth bearing as she dug in. "Even if we p-perish, there are always more, and burn you all, we agh... will! Sending you back to the bowels of hell!"
"All that bluster! Be... be silent, dog!" she yelled, pushing the man down to his knees. Her tail swayed with agitation and excitement, hair bristling. "I'm... not so... callous as thee. Renounce your... rrrghhh... lords, and a re- reprieve... will be... gifted."
The soldier took a moment and then spat into the creature's face, who reacts with a cold glare. With a sudden motion she twisted the man's arm in an unnatural angle with a loud wet snap and, with his own blade impaled him through the throat, and pinning his body against the wall. Quietly she stood up, withdrawing her claimed blades and began to go towards the exit, cutting down whatever men came her way, her bout of mercy exhausted.
Hayden slowly emerged from the floor hatch that now was busted from its hinges, his house covered in and reeking of fresh death. He struggled to not fall to his knees in horror, or vomit in disgusted. Closing his eyes he stepped forward slowly, the sickeningly wet floor squishing under each step. He tried not to think, as the chaos before him carried on, his creations recognizing their master enough to let him be.
"Forgive me," he said quietly, the only one available to bear the weight of remorse.
"Such a beautiful noise you make, it makes your suffering so much more pleasing." A pleasing voice of a woman came from behind the dying knight, it was her dagger. The knight fell to his knees close to death, she walked over to his front slowly and sensually. Just before he could claim his dying breath, she swiftly turns his head all the way around with a sickening SNAP.
She retrieved the dagger from the mans neck and allowed him to fall to the floor with a loud thud. She smirks and admires her bloodied dagger before licking the blood off the blade. She slowly then turned her attention to Hayden, her eyes predatory and hungry.
"And what of you? Deliverer or assassin?" he said, his voice having grown weary.
Basalah had not left far from her creator, still in the lamplight, polishing and cleaning one of her acquired blades, and then looking into it to get a look at herself, while also keeping watch of her creator and the new arrival. She remained quiet, simply preening and examining her oozing flesh underneath the bandages with an annoyed hiss. She seemed a bit more agitated now than before, perhaps some vanity had developed along with her intellect.
"Answer... carefully," she said with a cold snarling voice.
"I do not take orders from you creation, though I will indulge you both." She grinned some, showing off her sharp fangs. She walked past both him and Basalah, her eyes on the bloodbath in front of her. She held out her hand toward it, inhaling through her nose as if she were enjoying the scent of the carnage before her. Suddenly a torrent of the blood caused by the carnage flowed into her, her eyes almost rolling back into her head at it. Once she had finished consuming her meal she turned her head toward them both, an expression of satisfaction.
"So I am to live then?" he said finally, after taking the time trying to shake off the knocking of his knees. "For what purpose does she want me exactly? None of these creatures were intended for crazed slaughter, it is something within the magic, and I was trying to find out what. I-"
"Crazed!?" Basalah interrupted, quickly moving beside Hayden, grabbing his cheeks with one clawed hand, forcing him to look up at her. He looked shocked in response to her and her sharp nails. "Do you... do you not see!? I speak, I think, I learn, I grow! Recognize me!" she said with a growling voice, her eyes wild and breathing erratic. She let go of him and hissed, holding her side and buckling over, the pain of her ruptured body catching up to her. Feeling sympathy for his creation when his shock subsided he reached out to touch her, but she simply hissed and recoiled.
"I'll... to be useful, I'll need a new place to do my work, mine is... compromised," he said, turning hesitantly towards Hazel.
Before she could completely answer his question though, they would be set upon by something much larger than all three of them. A loud chittering noise not unlike an insect, crawling on top of a nearby rock and staring at them was a Mantis that was the size of a horse. Its eyes stared right at them, unblinking, unfeeling.
"Don't... look at me..!" she shrieked madly, lunging at the giant mantid with superhuman force, blades drawn, kicking dirt and rock upon liftoff, forcing Hayden to brace his face before he could order her retreat. She was transfixed with the mantis's eyes, aiming with wild urge to tear them out. In her, there was no fear, only rage.
"Damn it, Basalah!" he yelled, a breach in his own quiet veil, displaying similar frustration from before. Despite his anger, it was clear that he worried greatly about his creation.
Hazel however was giving a sideways glance, like she dissaproved her rage. She held out her hand toward him, acting as his guide in this harsh land.
Hayden worried, of course, wary of the very being that threatened his life earlier, the head of the giant insect that came after him and his creation, and his creation herself, a being who has shown thrice no hesitation to torture and kill, at least this time with a beast and not a man. "Ah, there are more?" he asked, though he worried more what the rest of this group was like, given the impressions so far given, a chill ran down his spine at the notion.
Whilst in the air above they flew above the darkened landscape, calm for now but severely ravaged by man. Below them was a clear hideout shrouded in their ladies magic, unseen by all who were not meant to see it.
It was never before that the alchemist had seen the world from such a perspective, looking down on it, a sinking feeling other than from his fear of heights as he observed the horrid state of the lands he called home. It was somehow worse than he had first assumed. A turmoil renewed, stormed within his mind as he hung his head. Men of power, he thought, "and they claim I make monsters?" He then saw a strange space, a location veiled in some way by magic. Being not a user of magic, and reluctant to try being so, he could only assume how the magic works, but another curiosity came to his mind: if between Hazel and Elyzabeth are what represents their order, should he fear what the rest are like?
"I-I must thank you for so courteously spiriting me to your encampment, Lady Hazel," he said, delivered with genuine, albeit timid, cordiality in his voice. Despite circumstances, he felt at least that he could trust her not to severely wound or kill him, even if it was just because it would provoke her superior's ire. "Terrifying as it is, the talents of the Sanguine kind have always been something both fascinating and formidable."
What was more strange, however, was the sheer calm emitted from the humanoid figure that held on to him, who seemed more intent on scanning him over. As he started to regain his bearings, he had a sobering thought come across his mind. "She can't be left to her own, she could become hysterical!" he began, his mind shifting to his creations.
Heavy breathing could soon be heard, shifting his attention to a wild-eyed Basalah on hands and feet, having obviously been following them with her utmost effort, breathing out steam from her hot breath into the cold night air. Though anger was in her eyes at first, having taken and threatened her master no doubt, or even, perhaps, the jab at her pride, seeing her master well softened her expression. The beast's maw cracked into a cocky grin as she stood upright, flipping her hair back with one of her hands, taunting back the vampire who challenged her.
"Ah, this," she began, turning to the castle. She gripped at her sores and hissed slightly. "That... that which is hidden from the eyessss of men..?" she asked, a rhetorical question with particular emphasis, scratching herself under her chin. She gave that dismissive grin again. "Food perhaps? The bug... did not satisfy. Master, you are hungry as well... yes?"
- 25 posts here • Page 1 of 1
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Hazel
The sadistic bloodletter
Elyzabeth Cromwell
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Hazel
The sadistic bloodletter
Elyzabeth Cromwell
A dark sorceress with intents of making an army
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A maddened alchemist studying the forbidden, intent to cure this sick world.
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Hayden Addler
A maddened alchemist studying the forbidden, intent to cure this sick world.
Hazel
The sadistic bloodletter
Elyzabeth Cromwell
A dark sorceress with intents of making an army
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Last Remnant
by sifsand on Wed Aug 07, 2019 4:22 pm
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Last Remnant
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Re: Last Remnant
Also how does the magic drive them insane?
Last Remnant
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