Awakening (Solo: Rated Aure)

[Devonus]

(Rated Aure! May contain graphic material not suited for children under the age of 18)

Darkness, the only eternal thing in this world. When the sun sets and hope fades, darkness is always there to take its place again. And as the sun set on another day, as the empty void of night came upon the world once again, so too did I.

Fleeting memories danced across my mind as the last rays faded away. A flash of the man I once called father, a tall broad human, fair of hair but not of stature, as he showed me how to string a bow. A deer, dashing through the forest, the sheen of sweat over taught muscles as it fled in fear. The quick flash of silver as an arrow plunged into it and that mans boisterous voice exclaiming at my first kill, the soft screams of anguish as the deers eyes slowly dimmed. The quick slash of a knife along a straining neck, the torrent of blood flowing from the wound, a crimson waterfall flowing eternally from the depths of hell. Blood The soft smile of my father coated in blood, my first taste of the hunt, of the fear, of the adrenaline of those final moments leading to the kill. Of the quiet pride of a woodsman that can provide, of the satisfaction of the kill, and the true nature of the woods, of survival....

Blood....I'm so thirsty."drink it all Devonus", a sweet feminine voice whispers in my head.*sooo thirsty..]/i]An image of a Female, red eyes gleaming in the dark silhouetted by her long dark hair, two crimson points of blazing hate in the cold black night. In the arms of that long sinewy succubus, a lovely blonde rests. A simple soul, large of breast and small of mind, but good of heart. She was a simple bar maid at a small village that cattered to the loggers and hunters of Lindequalme. I knew her by sight, and had made a few passes at her over the years, the woods though a sweet succor to my raging heart, far from the hands of man and elf, held little delights such as her, nor the ale she served. That sweet heady ale so far removed from what was now offered.

"Drink my dear.." The brunette says, pushing the blonde girls hair aside to bare her neck. My eyes trace the line of her collar bone, the soft thrum of blood coursing, I mouth goes slack as I stare, the light color of her veins seeming to bulge and explode, minute details that now beat with drum beat of life, of death. I quickly force myself to look to the blondes face.

Her eyes gleam with a want, a need. Her soft lips seem to beg with a need to be taken, a slight flush to her cheeks as her eyes meet mine. “Come,” her voice softly whispers, the two gleaming eyes behind her nodding in approval, “She wants you to,” the brunette says in a soft husky voice. "But I know her, Felicia..." I exclaim. Shaking my head no, but my eyes slowly wander back to the strong pulsing vein in her neck.[i]*Must feed....The memory of the pretty blonde being gently placed in my arms. Her cuddling up and kissing my neck and whispering in my ear."Please drink, please...." she whispers with need, her hand laced through my blonde hair and pulling it to her neck.... and then blood..... its taste, its smell, the soft gasp of joy and the gloating smile of Felicia over the blonde's shoulder."Drink it all..." she mouths to me with a smile... and I obey

But the taste of dirt fills my mouth as my consciousness returns. The sweet smell of earth filling my nose and the soft feeling of dirt.... And the more sickening feeling of bugs.... I feel them in me..i grimace as I send what little power I have in me into the bugs. I feel them respond, Bloated and engorged on my blood and my flesh. I writhe as hundreds of small insects swell from within me, though I can little feel pain, my body so wracked by their endeavors that little remains of the nerves, I still sense their writhing mass as it is purged from my body. Feel their slithering skin and pinprick legs as they flee from their host of these past few years. Most assumed that insects had little interested in vampires, that our powers kept them at bay, and this was true to an extent. Had I gone to rest fully sated, and entered my dormant state, the insect life would have been kept at bay for decades, perhaps centuries. But I had entered the ground ravaged, severely wounded, my blood flowing freely as I buried myself beneath the earth.

Blood With a gasp that single over whelming need pounds through my skull. I franticly begin to dig my way out, mud and dirt pouring into my mouth as I wrip and wrend the earth and roots in a desperate need to escape. With a gasp and a wince a pair of claws and my hands meet as the scent of leaves and fresh air assault my senses. An excited bark piercing the night as a familiar sight and scent fills my nostrils, the wet feeling of a tongue lapping at my face bringing a smile to my dirt smeared face. “I missed you too boy, now let me out of the ground you blasted mutt” I gasp out between licks,the large crimson wolf that had been assaulting my face with is tongue finally backing away.

“How long has it been Agar?, how long have I slumbered beneath the earth...” I ask the wolf as his intelligent eyes lock onto mine. “How long have you waited my loyal friend....” I bend down and let him give more kisses and pat his head, Noting some minor scratches on his blood red coat as I look him over. To some, this creature would appear no more then a savage beast. He was easily one of the largest canine specimens to walk the world. Standing at waist height on my 6' 2” frame, this lovely animal was truly a beast of these cursed woods. Its fur shined in hues of red and some black, with black marking along his face accenting his intelligent eyes, burning with an intensity and loyalty that only I was shown. His large tail, measure a little over half a meter, swished back and forth as I rubbed his head and turned to look around me.

A mass of overgrown black roses surrounds the hole I climbed out of, their deadly beauty enchanting me as they glimmer in the moonlight. The dark beauty wrought by my slumber bringing a smile to my face as I grab one, smiling through the pain as their long black thorns dig into my skin, a reminder that I’m still alive. The flowers blossoming and growing in my hand as I send a micro burst of power into them to open a way out for Agar and I, they had feasted on my blood for so long they were as much mine as Agar now.

BLOOD

[Devonus]

With a gasp I fall to the ground, mud smeared hands grasping at my chest as the burn settles in. The feeling of hot coals smoldering against my insides as a soft wimper escapes Agars lips. My hands instinctively grasping for where he stands only to find him gone, a small mass of fur left where he once was. A wounded rabbit screams mews in terror as my hand grasps around its body and pulls it to my mouth. A hideous gleam dancing in my eyes as elongated fangs bury into the creatures side, its frantic breathing finally coming to an end a moment later. The coals inside slowly fade to a dull burn, the hunger having been at least partially sated. I look for Agar, his head cocked to the side as he locks eye with me. His eyes question as his tail slowly swishes, recognizing the reason that I have regained before trotting over. He lowers his head instinctivly as I reach to scratch his ears and I frown at how close I had come to grasping for him again in my need. But his tail softly swooshes as my fingertips graze his head. “You did good my friend, thank you.” He barks happily as I raise myself to my feet to view the surroundings.

My eyes quickly recognize where we are, the crimson bark and leaves of the trees letting me know I’m in the red forest, that I’m home. A large oak towers over my grave, standing easily 40 feet tall with the moonlight shining red though its branches, basking me in an almost crimson glow as I place my hand against it.

My mind diving into its memories, its history. Visions pass by in a blur, trees living long lives, normal time means nothing to them, they only take note of major events....


My hand pressed against the old oaks bark, my vampiric senses relishing the feel of wood once again against my fingertips, its grooves and lines speaking of this trees strength and wisdom, much like the wrinkles and creases of the old who have lived to long and seen to much. My brow furled in confusion as the trees thoughts and emotions rolled into me. Disgust, pity, these emotions I expected. All natural life seemed to feel these as my attentions focused on them, and I had grown accustomed to this constant reminder of my fall from grace.

The oak however, showed no signs of this. At my touch it whispered of love, devotion, a shroud of protective branches and leaves seeming to encircle my mind as it embraced me, as it welcomed me home. I lifted my hand in confusion and gazed up at the old oak, paying more attention to it, seeking out its imperfections and scars, this was an oak who had seen much, and such marks were a sign of honor, of survival, amongst their kind, they were what defined them and made them individuals. Its why I never held love for the tree farms where all the trees were the same. They had no life, no history, it was the same for each tree to a large degree.

And finally I found its history written into its skin. A single large gash, now largely healed over at its base. It was evident an axe had once struck there, had once attempted to fell this mighty oak, though nearly a century had passed since then. I glimmer of memory dances in my eyes as I scan the ground again. Finding the moss covered and rusted axe head near its base, a single skeletal hand where the shaft of the axe would have been, had it not decayed these past 100 years.

So this is that tree...*My lips slowly curve into a forlorn smile, as I place my hand against the tree again. Diving back to its memory of that day, and summoning my own, letting the two merge and intermingle till finally it dances behind my eyes as clear as day.

[Devonus]

It had been two years since I had arrived in the red forest. Having finally tired of the disdain of my mothers people. My father had died a year before then, victim of one of the barons hunting parties. Perhaps I had wanted to die, coming to this long cursed forest. Attempting to make it my home. I had come upon this tree in my first few days, near the outskirts of the forest, the wild dangers of these woods still lurking farther in. Even then it had been large, Its years number perhaps one hundred at that time. Its red bark and boughs serving as a shelter from the elements as it stretched out over head.

So it was from this place that I ventured into and warded the red forest. At first I had dreams of cleansing it, of purifying the forgotten ones taint. I stumbled back to the base of this tree many a time, wounded by the bestial animals and plants of the forest, a few times I thought this tree would be my grave marker. However, I survived, I learned, and came to understand the Red Forest.

Some would tell you its a cursed place, that the natural world has been warped and corrupted there, And to an extent its true. Many a creature and plant of the red forest have grown more savage, more feral, but nothing and no one can truly change nature for long. If anything all that cursed witch had done was unlock the ferocious beauty of the denizens of this forest. So from beneath an old oak, I turned to protector of that supposedly cursed forest, and a guide for souls who ventured into it, but perhaps, some of that ferocity in turn imbued itself in me.

I was hired to guide a band of lumberjacks from Eluriand. Though I disdained their profession I understood the need for wood, and its importance to survival. I myself had felled a tree or two in order to survive. If nothing else I could guide them to those trees in whom Pode still held great power, to rid a bit of her unnatural taint. I could also ease the Trees suffering as the axe bit into them. The job went without much incident, a few close calls with the smaller Ruilserk located on the outskirts. The blood vines having turned a few of the lumberjacks who didn't heed my warning into temporary hemophiliacs from having their blood drained. Out of arrogance and pride of having completed the job, I brought the Lumberjacks back to my camp, to my oak, to rest beforei guided them and their bounty out of the forest a day later.

The greed of man, and elf, knows no equal. Their carts were filled, their loads more than ample. Yet the sound of pain, betrayal, screeched in my ear the next morning. The loud thud of axe on wood accompanying it as my tree screamed in anguish. These are what woke me. And so I woke in a rage, the rage of the forest, my own age at the avarice of these lumberjacks, which drove me as brought my sword down upon the lumber jacks hand, I know not. His screams of pain mingled with the trees as I cursed the lumberjacks and ordered them out of my forest. Leaving them to their own fumbled attempts to leave and survive. How many if any survived, I know not, and to this day, care not.

But I left my oak on that day. Its scars a reminder of my failure. I wouldn't return to it for another three years.... not till the day of my final hunt. Not till the day of my death, and rebirth.

I gaze up at the oak and smile, lovingly patting it as I step away. Following its thick trunk up and, letting each gnarled branch, knot, and burgundy leaf imprint itself on my enhanced senses, never wishing to forget it again. As my eyes take in this bloody visage of natures power, I feel the rage coming.*

I have slept to long and to deep....*The burning in my chest roaring slowly back to life, consuming my thoughts with need. Each of my memories slowly being consumed in its fire. I grimace, my lips contorting in disdain and pain as I take one last look at the towering bastion to which so many of my memories are tied, and step off into the forest. Staggering and swaying as I try to push away the frenzy soon to come. I compulsively clench my fists, feeling my nails digging into my skin deeper than they should and gasping at the pain. Lifting my hand to my eyes see that they have already begun to elongate, having grown a quarter inch since I awoke slumbering beneath the earth.

A soft whimper echoes from behind me, that seemingly indomitable mass of fur, flesh, and fangs that has been my eternal companion for over a century cowering behind me. Agar’s tail is tucked between his legs as he keeps a slow but wary pace behind me, his eyes locking on mine, echoing the animals thoughts of love,devotion, of sadness.... of fear. I smile weakly as I kneel, and hold my hand out to him. He instinctively flinches at my first approach. I can not say I blame him, a small growl lifting from Agar till my words reach his mind, a flash of huge canines, each gleaming in the crimson glow of the forest, remind me of the dangerous majesty of this creature I call friend.*“Its ok my friend.”*I whisper softly in his mind. My words echo silently in his head as he relaxes and comes to my hand, the thoughts and emotions I have for him having been layered into my telepathic communication, a silent reminder for the only creature in this world for which I still held any semblance of companionship with.

“You were there in the beginning, my crimson companion, remember?” I let my hand gently rest on his mane, to weak to use telepathy again as I let my words come slowly, wishing to conserve my strength. The searing pain of lust slowly subsiding as I clench the wolf's fur in my hands, pulling him into my lap. A tender loving lick of my face to reassure me that it was alright, that he trusted me. And as I cling to this immortal best of the woods, I cling to the memories where he walks besides me. Slowly, as the memories drown out the fire in me, I drift off into a light sleep, my memories drawn to the last beacon of emotion that now lays with his head in my lap.

[Devonus]

Blood

It coated everything, its sheen danced and flickered in the torch light as I surveyed the scene before me. Every inch of the grove before me was spattered with it. The ruilserk vines twisted and slithered through the corpses and gore. The soft hiss of their endeavors echoing in the still night air, the only sound to echo in that place, save the beating of my own heart. It was wrong. This place was empty of all life, devoid of even the carrion scavengers that should have flocked here by now. Now wolves picking over the corpses, no crows digging their long beaks into the softer flesh of the dead before me. It was wrong.

I stared in mute shock, my mind racing and struggling to make sense of the carnage that lay at my feet. This group had entered the woods three days before. Their goal and intent unknown. I had long ago stopped acting as a guide to those who entered the woods, stopped offering my protection to those who wantonly tread the woods with little care for it. But I still followed, still watched over those who would carelessly add their blood to this crimson forest, or those who's blood needed to be added to the forest.

I had thought these ones safe, cautious. They numbered twelve and were heavily armed, men in armor, and a mage or two among their number it had appeared, I had even seen signs at their previous camps that they probably had a brother to the woods with them, a ranger or druid who showed respect in their passage. They had skillfully avoided ruilserk pits, and even fended off a small pack of dur'taigan, despite the shape shifting wolves ambush of the group. So what under Aurients eye had laid waste to them. What evil had poured fourth from the depths of Lindequalme to completely fell them all. A tree brother of the wood perhaps? An ancient guardian wondered astray from the ruins of the Druklans?

My eyes poured over the carnage, looking for some clue. Thought the carnage at first seemed random, it was clear there was malicious intent at work. The kind only wrought by the sentient beings of this world. The bodies were rent, limbs carelessly cast aside, throats savagely ripped out, all signs of bestial ferocity and intent, save one lone corpse in the center.

It was an elf, a half blood kin of mine. His eyes wide in horror and his lips contorted in fear. He laid slouched against a tree, his green robes almost pristine in comparison to the blood that pulled elsewhere among the corpses. He was free of marks, his body unscathed by blade or bow, claw or tooth, save two tiny pricks on his neck, and his scalp which had been meticulously peeled off of his skull. It was hammered into the tree above him. A contorted symbol honoring the sky father, Galatrion, acting as the nail. I pulled it free and gently traced its shape. Inlaid with gold and silver, The star like symbol, its spokes formed of lighting bolt shapes, gleamed in the moon light, though I held more love for Cuarye, the god of archers, I still knew it well. This was no paupers trinket, it spoke of wealth and power, and was enchanted in some form.

Why would a member of the clergy come to this place, a place they deemed cursed and beyond healing. What...

My thoughts are interrupted by a chorus of mournful howls in the distance, a bellowing sound of agony echoed through the still night air. The trail of blood went in that direction, and now so to, would I. As the howls slowly petered away, as the unnatural silence once again returned, and only the soft whisper of ruilserk vines slithering among the corpses remained. They whispered of death...

[Devonus]

The scent of death clung to my clothes as I left the glade. The bottom of my linen pants and hose soaked through with blood, its chill settling against my skin like the cold grasp of death's own hands, as if wishing to drag me down into the domain of the dead.

I pray that is not the case, this eve.

My brow is wet with cold sweat as I pick my way silently through the forest, following the trail of blood deeper into the woods. Whatever had wrought such hell behind me had made little attempt to mask its route, perhaps lulled into false security believe the woods would swallow the mass grave it left in its wake.

Or perhaps it believes no fool would follow...

Why I traced that creatures steps, I know not. My heart raced with fear as the shadow of Lindequalme grew ever deeper, the blood slowly dwindling as the trail went on. It slowly faded away, but the passage of the creature remained apparent. The eerie silence of the wood marked its passage as clearly as any blood trail, it hung in the air, a silent ballad of fear to what had passed this way.

Why would I follow, what do I desire to know? Do I desire to know? Will I survive finding out

Perhaps it was some lost vestige of my humanity that beckoned me on, or a desire to find this evil that eclipsed all my understanding of the Red Forest, or perhaps it was a compulsion brought on by the creature herself.

I was excited as I heard another solitary mournful cry go up, my hands reflexively clenching in anticipation. It was closer, much closer, and it was scared. Fear was no stranger to this forest, but this howl echoed not just of fear, but of terror, it was a creature wracked with sorrow and pain, of a creature at deaths door and not just afraid for its life, but its very soul... And this baleful cry went up alone.

No howls responded as I spied the clearing, as the long howl dwindled then disappeared. No choir of support rose up in response, no answering calls to that lonely voice in the clearing ahead. I soon discovered why as I reached the edge of the clearing and saw the misshapen mounds of fur scattered about the clearing.

It sat at the base of a small hill, the remnants of a stone tower resting at its top, a remnant of the Durklan or some other long forgotten inhabitant long since forgotten to the forest. Its scattered remnants lay across the hill, large and small stones half buried in the earth. At the top a small arch way still stood, showing the entrance to the tower. Ruilserk vines etched their way around the still standing walls and foundation, but the arch itself remained untouched by the encroachment.

Among these ruins, large masses of fur lay crumpled, blood pooling beneath them and gleaming in the moon light. The formed a line leading up to the arch, their bodies facing out as if in defense of it. I knelt before one of the fallen creature, pushing the poor defeated creature onto its side and gasping as the scent of death and feces assaults my nostrils as its innards spill out. Its entire abdomen cleanly sliced open.

Its a large creature, I recognize it as one of the Jarg' Uns. They were large wolf like creatures, this one measuring roughly three feet high and seven foot in length from snout to tail, its fur a deep crimson red, much like the rest of the forest, shades of black and grey scattered through out to darken its coat, Its face usually covered in dark markings accenting the eyes and giving it an air of nobility and intelligence along side its husky and ferocious body. A lesser know cousin to the Dur'taigan, they were the more bestial of the two. Where the Dur'taigan had developed into tricksters, natural casters of illusion to fool and hide from their prey as trees within the forest, the Jarg'Uns had simply grown more ferocious, larger, more bestial, though no less intelligent. They were a much nobler creature in that respect then their kin, but it did not change the fact that they were fewer, much rarer, their enhanced physique and and mobility no match for their cousins natural magic.

But in a straight fight, these creatures were formidable opponents, easily the match for a common man alone, a pack this size would be near insurmountable. It was a large pack, perhaps the largest I had seen yet, counting at least eight of them lining the approach to the tower. I rested my hand upon the creatures neck, and gazed skyward, my eyes closed in silent prayer.

Curalyn, lord of archery and the hunt, lay these creatures lost souls to rest beneath Aurients star, may you protect them in death, as I failed to do so in life from this needless slaughter. Guide my arrow true as....

My silent prayer is interrupted as a soft whimper is carried on the silent night air to my ears. It echoes through my head as righteous rage fills my heart. One of this noble pack yet survived, but the haunting callous laughter that followed there after spoke of worse yet in store for that pained soul. It came from the hill top, the laughter dancing on the breeze, beckoning my raging heart to follow. It rang with death, but I had long ago came to Lindaqualme to find my end, at least I would try to end this blasphemous being before I did so.

[Devonus]

As I passed under the archway into the ruined tower proper, the Ruilserk vines twisted and grasped futilely. Their long red vines swaying and quivering hypnoticly under the moonlight, begging for sweet blood that was not theirs to taste.

The decrepit lobby of the tower lay littered with bones, canine bite marks carved into them. It was a testament to the packs ferocity and prosperity that not few among the many bones of forest creatures, lay the remains of man and elf. The stench of rotten meat and canine hung in the air, emanating from a spiral stair case that plunged down into the hill, a soft flickering light dancing along the cold stone walls from somewhere beneath. Pode herself danced in the shadows of that light as I cautiously made my descent, eyes struggling to pick over dimly lit steps for stable footing amongst the crumbling stairs, praying no loose stone announced my descent into the den.

A short way down, soft whimpering echoed along the walls, small yelps accompanying them at times, terrified gasps of pain at the hands of whatever monster lay at the base of these steps. Slowly my ears pick up the soft sound of humming, a simple tune, its notes singing of something ancient and elven, of something beautiful should I only listen closer, if only I were to lose myself in its gentle tones. A soft feminine voice whispering in the back of my skull that comfort lay within the lips that carried such a tune. The shadows gyrating in the flickering light beckoning me onward as I finally reached the bottom of the stairs.

The humming echoed through out the basement, its ballad no longer just a promise of comfort, but of joy, of freedom, of sweet release through forgotten sins. I stood entranced, my eyes locking on the source, silhouetted by flickering flames as she sat not ten feet away. Her long dark hair flowed gently along her shoulder, a natural cloak of feminine beauty. Her shoulder and back were rigid, unmoving, yet still emanated an aura of cat like grace. Her being radiated an ethereal field of dark comfort and succor, the pale nape of her neck and shoulder, contrasted by her dark and flowing hair, offered a resting place for the weak and the weary. Across her lap lay a large unmoving mound of crimson fur, I followed its lines, how it complimented her lithe figure and seem so comfortable in her arms. Meeting its deep blue eyes that so contrasted its own red hue, and saw fear.

Why does it fear me? What could there be to fear in her arms...

Slowly, my eyes take in the blood upon its maw, its mouth agape in silent whimpers as it pleads. The women sat stroking the creatures head, and with each caress, small rivulets of blood dripped along the Jarg'Uns fur, as skin was ripped and scratched by her hands passage. Its eyes locked upon mine again, no sound escaped its lips save its whimpers of pain, but it begged for my help, to be released, to die.

As silently as I could I knocked an arrow to my yew bow, spreading my legs and bracing myself as I slowly draw the bow back, praying the wood holds silent as I plead to its spirits for quiet. My hands quivered with unease as i reached full draw, and a silent creak resounds through the room as the bow reached its limit. The humming stops, a loud warning bark escaped the wolf's form before all the world was plunged into silence and darkness. The flames cast out as I glimpsed the creature move with unnatural grace and fluidity. In the darkness, a voice whispers in my ear from behind, her dead cold breath caressing my skin.

“Would you bite me too, ranger of the red wood?”

The arrow was let loos fruitlessly into the dark void before me as I gasp in terror, as useless as my own vain thoughts of ending this creature.

[Devonus]

I struggled to breathe as terror racked my body, her soft cool breath making the hairs on my neck stand on end. I felt the soft press of sharp steel against my back, easily slipping through my shirt and leather vest as it grazed along my skin, inching its way slowly up along my spine. My skin burned in its wake, its soft caress leaving her mark in my skin as it etched its way along. I could feel the warmth of my own blood clinging to the tattered garments. As the cool tip of that steel razor reaches of the base of my neck, it silently retreats. Her breath dissapeared from my neck and the fire in my lungs bursts as I greedily gasped for air, free from the tension of that blade.

As my breathe steadied, and I struggled in the pitch black shadows of the basement, I franticly search in vain for any sign of the creature. He soft voice reverberating through my soul, the eerie silence of that dark basement making me long to hear it again, to feel the gentle touch of her malice against me in soft...

“Wait what? Why would I wan....”

As my lips whispered in panic and confusion at my own thoughts, my mind muddled by the foreign thoughts and desires, a soft cold palm presses against my forehead. My back arches in agony as her hand tighten around my skull, steel nails scratching and digging into my scalp, ragged gouges forming as I hear my own skin rip. A muffled cry of pain dies on my lips, a boney fist colliding with my mouth as it hangs open in agony. My mouth goes numb, salty bitterness pouring into my through as she bends me backwards by the grip around my skull. It gurgles at the back of my mouth as I fight to breath, my brain in such shock as to not to think to swallow.

Yes, release... A foreighn voice sings in my head as the numbness dies and pain envelops my mouth, a jagged edge of tooth broken and embeded in my lip. My tongue runs over it as I hang helplessly in her grasp, greedily tracing the mangled tooth, its edges sharp and ragged, pain shooting with each caress of my tongue. Confusion echoes through my whole being as I gleefully embrace the pain.

Above me, burning coals locked onto my eyes. Cat like irises, deep red and crimson, lolling amongst white pupils like fine wine in virgin cups.

“ I did not say to speak, did I hunter?”

As my mouth opens, a distant whine and squeal resounds with a warning. The Jarg'Uns fate lost in the darkness of that small basement. But its meaning was clear. I laugh, blood spewing from my mouth as I give one last defiant grin. My numb lips muddie the words as I fight to speak, but they come out clear enough.

“Bithe..”

Love..

“meh bitch.”
Mistress.

My skull hits the cold cobble stone floor with a force to make my ears ring, the pain flows and ebbs as my consciousness fades. The dark depths of the basement waver in and out, flickering red and black. Those vibrant red eyes watching me from above, wide with what my delusional mind believed to be admiration.

She loves us....

“Shuth... fuckn up...” My lips mumble to myself, as the world and my consciousness completely disappear.

[Devonus]

My mind hurts, the seductive laughter of a succubus bouncing off the insides of my skull. They both pained me, and excited me. One moment they rang out like church bells, my whole body vibrating with pain, the next moment, children's laughter on a summer's golden shore, the whisper of the wind through tall comforting trees.

She is a goddess, a lover, a friend....

“shfffn...”

I groaned, the bitter sweet ringing in my skull slowly subsiding. The voice speaks of her, its not my own, or is it? It sounded hollow, false, yet earnest.

Protect her, love her, serve her...

“Nuuo, gutt,.. “

My mouth struggled to form words, pain slowly rolling back over me again. My mouth ached, my tongue feels scabbed and scratchy, dried blood flaking off of it as I struggle to open my eyes. Blood seems to be caked onto my head, matting my golden blonde hair. I went to lift my hand and probe, only to feel the cold metallic press of metal at my wrist.

Live for her, die for her, Fig...

“NO, NO, NO! Get fuck out.”

My eyes shot open, desperate to escape the confines of my own mind, where false whispers echoed. The world swirled around me, bright fire light flickering and dancing, flashes of red and black swirling in a discordant symphony. I tried to lean down to puke, only to find my arms bolted down above me to beams of wood. The nausea roles over me before I can turn my head, the vomit spilled forth from my mouth, its vile and nauseating stench cascading down my chin and chest. It clings like curdled milk to my skin, slowly oozing down my body. My mouth screamed in agony at the strain, my lips and gums searing with pain as pressure meets them.

As the vomit finishes leaving my mouth, leaving only pain and a repugnant taste like compost behind in its wake, I gaze down at my body. The vomit hangs on it, a slimy grotesque coat reminiscent of jelly. I was bare, my skin stripped of all modesty and clothing. Its tan and scarred, badges of the wood all over from fights past. My muscles taut and honed from a life of living in the wood, I had rarely looked at myself such, and were it not for the smears of vomit and blood, I might have even thought myself impressive. Also, if it didn’t happen that my naked body was now bolted to two beams of wood, criss-crossing in the middle of my back to form a large X. My feet touched ground but it was difficult to see them as the contraption I was bound to leaned backwards at a slight angle.

I began to look about the room, seeing that I was still in the dark cellar. The torches were re-lit, haunting shadows dancing in their flicking light. I was facing away from the stairs and towards the center of the room. A small cage at the far opposite side held a hunched, defeated figure. The Jarg'Un was caged, its once proud crimson form forced into a cage half its side. It was so small it couldn’t turn nor lay down. In some ways, I was glad for the space and relaxed position I was bound in.

I pursed my lips, making a soft whistle, the Jarg'Un lifts its eye from a melancholy inspection of the floor to look at me briefly. It seems dazed, its eyes absent of light, of hope, It barely makes eye contact before its eyes drop again, barely any acknowledgment in its distant stare.

“What is wron....”

Release, love, ..

The voice that is but is not my own cries out in righteous worship, as I feel soft skin against my hand. My eyes glaze over in fear and terror, and as I began to try and look. With a swift motion I feel my finger wrenched back, a loud crack echoing off the soft walls as torment once again assaults my mind.

A soft cool tongue traces the lobe of my ear, shivers of fear sliding down my spine as I gasp in pain.

More mistress more!

I open my mouth to silence that hateful voice again. Only to feel her whispered breath caressing the wet path of her tongue, a gentle promise of pleasure, of lust.

“What did I say, about speaking?”

[Devonus]

That sultry voice echoed in my mind. Dripping with promises of sin, of comfort found in dark recesses away from the safe comfort of morals.

“I did not say you could speak, Did I hunter?”

The voice in my head picks up the line, chanting it. My own false voice and hers crescendo and mash together, a compelling song carried through my veins on promised peace. If only I keep silent, If only I accepted my place...

A fire slowly burned in my eyes, willing my fear stricken muscles to turn towards the whispered voice. It smolders and burns, consuming the voices. The words linger in the smoke, but blue eyes burn deep blue with conviction as they make contact with her shadowed form. Her hair forms a ebony corona around her pale face, lush red lips seem to beg for the tender to touch of another, to promise sweet caresses in the dark safety of the night. Her small nose conveys a touch of innocence, she seemed young, yet ancient. That time less face, unmarred by nature or man. Her eyes, now meer inches away, lock on mine with fury. The crimson irises flecked with tints of green, beckon me into her.

Lose yourself in them, love them..

I closed my eyes, feeding the fire within me with pity for all who fell before her, this gorgeous siren. Bracing myself for the pain to come.

“Remember what I said?”

She closed her eyes for a moment, a soft smile dancing on her lips, her hand lowering from my broken finger. Her finger tips, now absent those cruel daggers that once flayed my skin. They traced a line, my back arching at the soothing touch as it passed over the inside of my elbow. It was so devoid of malice, so gentle in its endeavors, so contrary to this creature..

So soft, so comforting, mistress

Those fingertips gently following my jaw line, nails gently grazing along my ear to settle in my hair, careful to avoid the scabs left by her before. I feel myself stiffen, adrenaline merging with the soft graceful caress that comforted my wounds. I felt the blood pour into my loins, pulling flames from the fire of hatred I so tried to keep burning.

Mistress...

With that simple word, whispered by a voice that should not exist, the fire roared once again. Leaning in towards her face as her eyes opened, my shadowed form dancing with bemusement within her irises. Through gritted teeth I match her unflinching stare, her lustful lips now smiling fully as she playfully turns her ear to hear my words.

“What did I say about speaking?”

“Bite me bitch.”

I was so shocked, when with a flash of white canines, she did. It did not hurt, no an ecstasy came over me as I felt fang slide into skin. Her soft lips pressed gently against my neck as a lover would, nerves dancing with pleasure as my pulse matched the gentle pulling of her tongue. Warmth washed through me, my member resolved to embrace this moment as her hand ran from my head down along my chest. My face flushed with blood and passion, as a quiet gasp escaped my lips.

Suddenly my body went limp, devoid of feeling as she pulled away, a bemused smile gracing her lips as she walked around to my front, her hand never leaving chest. The world seem lacking without her kiss, devoid of desire save to have it once again.

More mistress, more..

Her eyes almost seemed to hold affection as she leaned farther into me. My mind slowly remembered its purpose as she leaned into me, her hand sliding lower as i shake my head, attempting to dispell whatever illusion held me. I softly bite my lip, the pain bringing the fire that sputtered back to some life. I look up, refusing to meet her gaze, refusing to lose myself in those endless eyes, those deceiving lips.

Blood

"Blood.." I whisper.

She chuckles, her hand placed above my waist, finger tips gently tracing circles around my belly button. My loins burn hot against her cold skin, her thigh pressed between them as she pulls my head down.

"Yes, blood my lovely hunter." she whispers as she gently kisses my shoulder.

Take it mistress.

As i meet her eyes, she sees tilts her head inquisitively. My mouth is wide, my tongue outstretched in an almost comedic display. As my intentions dawn on her, her eyes narrow and her fingers dig into my stomach, nails tearing skin once again.

Dont steal from mistress!

My eye brows raise in defiance and melancholy triumph as i bring my teeth down, pain overwhelms my being once again as teeth tears flesh. My consciousness fades again, as blood pours forth from my severed tongue. It burns hot as it coats me, and mingles with the vomit that congeals upon my body.

Blood..

[Devonus]

Blood..

The word echoes in my mind, a simple word, from a complicated soul. That laughing melody of my painful lover, her voice a soft sonata inspiring hate, lust, and love equally, dances in the late night air as I arise from my thoughts. My lips quiver, my gaunt body ached, and the scent of sweat beckon me forward. Memories could wait, for somewhere near by blood coursed through panicked fleshed, quivering in the dark, hiding in the wood.

Even this scent, strange and foreign, holds its own memories. Perhaps anything, that takes place in Pode's cursed forest would always hold ties to my heart and mind. It was the scent of death, of loneliness, of hate. It echoed of pain, past, present, and for this particular lost soul, future.

Memories can wait, Agar rises at my side, hesitantly nudging my hand. Even he knows I have wasted far to much time lost in memories. The hunger burns still, hotter then before, it was foolish to dawdle when my body had such need as it did this night. I was destined to lose myself in the hunger before long, were I not careful, a steady drumbeat, reason and sense lost to its solitary purpose. In some ways it was a release, a clearing of the mind, a solitary purpose that drove my body forward despite it and my minds own protests. It was also a curse, how I use to dread that blackout, that over powering hunger driving me to heights of madness not know to man or beast...

Take her blood..

A hollow voice whispers in my mind, false guidance, spoken in false devotion. Her blood was gone from this world, I would never taste its bitter sweet wine upon my lips. It would never invigorate my flesh, never still my heart, never again remind me of sweet pain and sin wrought so long ago. Unfortunate for some, such as the one I knew to be in the distance, that I would attempt to find it none the less, again,.. and again,.. and again.

The moonlight bounces off of each crimson stained leaf as I bound forward into the night. Another lost soul, purposeless, forgotten, a hunched beast starved and mad, enlarged canines gleaming through shattered shadows. Slowly, a bestial mantra begins to echo in my thoughts.

Blood, all the blood. Taste it all, consume it all. Hate, all the hate. Feed it all, burn it all...

Its simplistic nature feeds my hunger, stills my mind. Each stanza, a simple repetition, new meaning given to each. Its a horrible chorus of voices past and present. Filled with longing and desire, misery and hate. It cries out from the pits of hell to feed the flame of loathing, of myself, of her, of the countless souls lost in my pursuit of what was lost.

Love, lost.
Sin, lost.
Comfort, Lost.
My forest, lost.
My purpose, lost.

Everything I had ever found, Everything I had ever known, lost.

My thoughts and memories evaporate as the steady drumbeat of that hateful chorus take up in my heart. My life, my death, to be revisited another night, even the memory of loss, disappearing into its steady chorus. Only two things remain as I bare down upon that hapless soul that wonders the darken forest. Two things that burn eternally in my heart and in my mind.

BLOOD. HATE.

That sweating figure, its torch flickering in the distance as Agar and I approach, would soon learn those two things could be found aplenty in my presence. It would feel it in my claws, razor sharp and hard as steel, ready to rend, to tear. It would see it in my eyes, crimson red, burning bright in hunger for his life.It certainly hears it in the roar I let loose, bursting the distant night on the wings of rage. Perhaps that was all that could be found in this Red wood, in Lindaqualme.

With fire burning bright in my heart and my mind, my last thread of consciousness disappear in the flames. Flames never quenched, only sated, always with me, always crackling and searing of blood and hate....

[Mordelain]

Thread Title: Awakening
Judgment Type: Basic Judgement
Participants: Devonus

Strengths:

The primary strength of the thread is imagery and setting. There is a visceral pace to the writing as well, which brings to life the very physical and primal experiences the character goes through during his revival, and subsequent temptations. Be careful not to repeat noun, adjective, and verb too often, however. Familiarisation of terms dampens the creativity and continuous sense of progression through a scene. That’s not to say you need to read a thesaurus, but consider using alternatives before cycling back to tried and tested literary conventions.

Another strength of this thread is the headstrong character and development. Personality is not easily crafted so finely, and there is a clear sense of trial and error and learning, for better or worse during every scene and every horror Devonus witnesses. Clear cut references to past events give a sense of time and scope (rightly so for an immortal being). Be wary of overpowering your NPCs with a protagonist, however. Sometimes your lead can slip into the background to give a new dimension to a tried and tested formula.

Finally, the thread shows careful consideration of your character’s abilities and how they impact not only your character’s personality and morals, but the world around him. Whilst the rubric would encourage you to adhere more strictly to the parameters defined in your profile, creative license in this case is acceptable to bring your story to life (and accounts for the strengths detailed above).

Weaknesses:

Where character and narrative shine, this thread’s weaknesses (in terms of the rubric), are:

Mechanics. There are consistent mechanical errors in every post. Rather than systematically detail each error, I have summarised the three primary errors for you to reflect on going forward:

1. Apostrophes: one of the trickier punctuation marks, revise possessive, ellipsis, and plural apostrophes. There are over six missing apostrophes in the first post alone. Read through post one and try to identify where they are absent, and then if needed, further advice can be given to refine your knowledge.
2. Paragraphs: it is conventional to begin a new paragraph when a new speaker talks during a dialogue. An example of this is in paragraph five of the first post, line two. Clearly displaying switches between character voices helps pacing, clarity, and mechanics alike.
3. Speech Formatting: when the text following speech relates to the words spoken, it should be formatted thusly:

“I don’t know what to do,” she said.

Not:

“I don’t know what to do.” She said.

Standardisation is important, above geographical conventions. Ensure that throughout the document you retain American/Oxford variants and ensure … is a …, and not .., or …. (as is used in some cases during the thread). Paragraph four of the first post is an example of this. “Drink my dear..” The brunette says. It should read: “Drink my dear…,” the brunette says. Exception to this is when a ! or ? is used.

Narrative: Tense switching is common. Choice a voice in any given post and stick to it. It is jarring for the reader, and easily leads to word choice errors and homophone confusion. Though the gothic language and adverse sentence structure is utilised well in parts, overuse of this tone, especially when you begin to attempt overly complicated compound sentences weighs heavily on patience and grammatical convention. Whilst it is acceptable at times to break such rules, master the rudiments before toying with finery. You have strong talent here, start slow.

Pacing: Internal pacing is competent. A final constructive point, to develop your writing and adherence to the rubric, would be to contemplate where each post ends and each begins. The first three flow well into one another, but then illogical jumps occur and the changing tempo dampens an effective plot. Take your time. Read the post aloud. If it sounds wrong, it is wrong – don’t be afraid to change lengths between posts, either. Variety is the spice of life.

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[Lye]

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