Terror's Thrall
11-27-10, 05:50 PM
Thios was bored.
While he occupied the mortal shell of a man, it was hardly the most adept one. The process of invading the poor man's mind had ravaged the body, destroying many of the its sensory capabilities. Even had it not, Thios merely occupied the shell and he could not feel beyond its reach. This irked him as he had once been a powerful being, reduced to driving this decrepit body around.
As a usual pacifist, it was not often Thios felt bloodlust, but this day he did. He wanted to see how much punishment this body could take. He wanted to experience the rush of battle. Fenris, the warrior soul that was bound deep within his own growled his approval through the ether and even Beren the healer-soul seemed happy to fight. To the citadel then.
Arriving, Thios did not even bother to hide the face of his twisted thrall's body as he usually did. Let them stare this time. The twisted figure walked tall despite his awkward and lop-sided gait. He passed the monks with barely an acknowledgement and strode through the huge arena door. And almost fell to his death (temporary of course, this being the citadel). Scattered before him, with no percievable method of suspension, were thousands of islands of rock, each perfectly circular and flat. Each was between 2 and 10 feet and diameter and none touched another or indeed came within a foot of another.
The loose cloth shirt that covered Thios' torso flapped in the strong winds that crisscrossed the arena. Still unused to controlling the steps of this particular physical form, Thios almost lost his footing as he attempted to leap to the next disc. A moment that caused the body to almost wrench itself out of his control and scream, occurred as a glance through the gap in between the platforms revealed a drop of almost a thousand feet below. He turned a full circle to survey the surroundings. Though the body he controlled had no physical eyes, he found it helped to focus his vision when he concentrated on the cone normally visible with human eyes.
Fenris was anxious for the fight now and Thios allowed the warrior's essence control of the body's hands for the fight. Reaching out, Fenris' power tried to draw dust from the surrounding ground to form a weapon. To his horror and rage the sweeping winds prevented enough dust from coalescing to form more than a small dagger.
A pitiful body and a pitiful weapon. At least both were replaceable.
While he occupied the mortal shell of a man, it was hardly the most adept one. The process of invading the poor man's mind had ravaged the body, destroying many of the its sensory capabilities. Even had it not, Thios merely occupied the shell and he could not feel beyond its reach. This irked him as he had once been a powerful being, reduced to driving this decrepit body around.
As a usual pacifist, it was not often Thios felt bloodlust, but this day he did. He wanted to see how much punishment this body could take. He wanted to experience the rush of battle. Fenris, the warrior soul that was bound deep within his own growled his approval through the ether and even Beren the healer-soul seemed happy to fight. To the citadel then.
Arriving, Thios did not even bother to hide the face of his twisted thrall's body as he usually did. Let them stare this time. The twisted figure walked tall despite his awkward and lop-sided gait. He passed the monks with barely an acknowledgement and strode through the huge arena door. And almost fell to his death (temporary of course, this being the citadel). Scattered before him, with no percievable method of suspension, were thousands of islands of rock, each perfectly circular and flat. Each was between 2 and 10 feet and diameter and none touched another or indeed came within a foot of another.
The loose cloth shirt that covered Thios' torso flapped in the strong winds that crisscrossed the arena. Still unused to controlling the steps of this particular physical form, Thios almost lost his footing as he attempted to leap to the next disc. A moment that caused the body to almost wrench itself out of his control and scream, occurred as a glance through the gap in between the platforms revealed a drop of almost a thousand feet below. He turned a full circle to survey the surroundings. Though the body he controlled had no physical eyes, he found it helped to focus his vision when he concentrated on the cone normally visible with human eyes.
Fenris was anxious for the fight now and Thios allowed the warrior's essence control of the body's hands for the fight. Reaching out, Fenris' power tried to draw dust from the surrounding ground to form a weapon. To his horror and rage the sweeping winds prevented enough dust from coalescing to form more than a small dagger.
A pitiful body and a pitiful weapon. At least both were replaceable.