Lye
01-18-14, 12:14 AM
Closed to BlackandBlueEyes
"Hmm?! Wha'?" The elder Ai'Brone leaned in to get a better idea of what his younger counterpart was getting at.
"He wants blood... everywhere. Bones, screams, even tortured souls writhing around as they fight," the younger of the three monks tried to explain for the third time. His forehead beaded with sweat at the thought of it. He was the one that took the order and the graphic detail was far greater than he was willing to share.
"Why not?" chimed in the third, a middle age between fossil and sapling. "The mangled corpses we've had to bring back from the precipice should be enough to go on. You can remember your first can't you?" A sickly smile spread from ear to ear at the mention of their first time. The younger was not so happy to recall, and the elder fell into a mindless babble of time long forgotten.
"I can Corvanik, but the details... He's a monster." Disgust was clearly painted under the shadows of the youth's hood.
"We swore to this position, or do you not remember?" Corvanik retorted in a stern tone.
"I do, still..."
"We do it. The Ai'Brone do not pass judgment. We are unbiased. So quit your whining youngin' and concentrate. Once the illusion is up, you are trapped in it as much as they are." Corvanik loosed another harrowing grin. "So do your best to enjoy it or learn to become numb like elder Greyson over there."
"He's not numb, he's senile!"
"It is no different because he is still a master of this trade. Learn from him what you can."
The youth grew quiet - defeated. His mind milled over the gruesome details he was given and all he could recall were those gleaming green eyes. Each adjective slipped from his lips like a treasured memory of one lover to another. The glow in his eyes was inhuman, it enjoyed it. The young Ai'Brone did not care what Corvanik said, this man was a demon. Still, he righted his body with resolve and exhaled sharply.
"Let's get this over with."
"That's more like it," Corvanik smiled. The boy laid down on a cold stone slab, one of three in a circle. The elder's rant drifted into silence at the sight and with a struggle, also laid flat upon his own altar. Covanik watched them slip into their trance as they closed their eyes and began to chant the Ai'Brone illusion mantra. The middle aged monk looked to his own stone bed, but not before offering his two sleeping brothers a smirk.
"Some of us like creating despair," he spoke to ears that would never hear him. He offered the stale air of their chamber an eerie laugh before he too laid his head near theirs. His eyes closed and the mantra began, a smile stretched into those wrinkled features.
-------
The hairs on his exposed stood on end. His emerald hues sparkled with admiration. The Ai'Brone were both an amazing breed and a terrifying entity. He took in a deep breath with arms outstretched, letting the thick rain of red spatter turn pale flesh to scarlet. The humid stench of copper wafted into the assassin's nostrils, a sweeter aroma than any woman's perfume. The dim light of the moon streaked across the barren wasteland of bone, limbs, and varying human remains. The occasional torso offered the sweet moans of agony or gurgled melody of fading life.
"Home..." Lye let escape his lips in a faint whisper, drowned out by the screams of bare chested women suspended by meat hooks above. Their writhing not only hastened their death, but allowed the harrowing chant of steel chain to perforate the barren walls of the desecrated church temple.
"To think they'd permit this..." the killer mumbled in bliss to the crimson vlince hugging his lips. "Will the monks turn no challenge away?"
His eyes closed with face turned to the shrieks of the damned above him. Warm nectar of life fell like rain upon his features and his smile was genuine. The assassin was happy.
"I will have to thank them personally when this is done," Lye thought, snapping his focus to the true purpose he had chosen to venture to the citadel. He had an initiate with a big mouth and an even larger petite for booze and women to set straight. His boots took forward steps with sickening suction upon lifting from the living carpet. His gloved hand glanced against empty pews leading to the central alter at the front. He had told the monks to ensure his opponent were to appear behind the altar. The green-eyed demon began to revel at the idea of combat in this heaven, and his blood began to boil.
"Any minute," he reassured himself, fixing eyes to the shattered stained glass giving backdrop to his foes eventual entrance. His marrow cried for battle, and he answered his by leashing twin prongs of bone. Madness began to grip him.
"Hmm?! Wha'?" The elder Ai'Brone leaned in to get a better idea of what his younger counterpart was getting at.
"He wants blood... everywhere. Bones, screams, even tortured souls writhing around as they fight," the younger of the three monks tried to explain for the third time. His forehead beaded with sweat at the thought of it. He was the one that took the order and the graphic detail was far greater than he was willing to share.
"Why not?" chimed in the third, a middle age between fossil and sapling. "The mangled corpses we've had to bring back from the precipice should be enough to go on. You can remember your first can't you?" A sickly smile spread from ear to ear at the mention of their first time. The younger was not so happy to recall, and the elder fell into a mindless babble of time long forgotten.
"I can Corvanik, but the details... He's a monster." Disgust was clearly painted under the shadows of the youth's hood.
"We swore to this position, or do you not remember?" Corvanik retorted in a stern tone.
"I do, still..."
"We do it. The Ai'Brone do not pass judgment. We are unbiased. So quit your whining youngin' and concentrate. Once the illusion is up, you are trapped in it as much as they are." Corvanik loosed another harrowing grin. "So do your best to enjoy it or learn to become numb like elder Greyson over there."
"He's not numb, he's senile!"
"It is no different because he is still a master of this trade. Learn from him what you can."
The youth grew quiet - defeated. His mind milled over the gruesome details he was given and all he could recall were those gleaming green eyes. Each adjective slipped from his lips like a treasured memory of one lover to another. The glow in his eyes was inhuman, it enjoyed it. The young Ai'Brone did not care what Corvanik said, this man was a demon. Still, he righted his body with resolve and exhaled sharply.
"Let's get this over with."
"That's more like it," Corvanik smiled. The boy laid down on a cold stone slab, one of three in a circle. The elder's rant drifted into silence at the sight and with a struggle, also laid flat upon his own altar. Covanik watched them slip into their trance as they closed their eyes and began to chant the Ai'Brone illusion mantra. The middle aged monk looked to his own stone bed, but not before offering his two sleeping brothers a smirk.
"Some of us like creating despair," he spoke to ears that would never hear him. He offered the stale air of their chamber an eerie laugh before he too laid his head near theirs. His eyes closed and the mantra began, a smile stretched into those wrinkled features.
-------
The hairs on his exposed stood on end. His emerald hues sparkled with admiration. The Ai'Brone were both an amazing breed and a terrifying entity. He took in a deep breath with arms outstretched, letting the thick rain of red spatter turn pale flesh to scarlet. The humid stench of copper wafted into the assassin's nostrils, a sweeter aroma than any woman's perfume. The dim light of the moon streaked across the barren wasteland of bone, limbs, and varying human remains. The occasional torso offered the sweet moans of agony or gurgled melody of fading life.
"Home..." Lye let escape his lips in a faint whisper, drowned out by the screams of bare chested women suspended by meat hooks above. Their writhing not only hastened their death, but allowed the harrowing chant of steel chain to perforate the barren walls of the desecrated church temple.
"To think they'd permit this..." the killer mumbled in bliss to the crimson vlince hugging his lips. "Will the monks turn no challenge away?"
His eyes closed with face turned to the shrieks of the damned above him. Warm nectar of life fell like rain upon his features and his smile was genuine. The assassin was happy.
"I will have to thank them personally when this is done," Lye thought, snapping his focus to the true purpose he had chosen to venture to the citadel. He had an initiate with a big mouth and an even larger petite for booze and women to set straight. His boots took forward steps with sickening suction upon lifting from the living carpet. His gloved hand glanced against empty pews leading to the central alter at the front. He had told the monks to ensure his opponent were to appear behind the altar. The green-eyed demon began to revel at the idea of combat in this heaven, and his blood began to boil.
"Any minute," he reassured himself, fixing eyes to the shattered stained glass giving backdrop to his foes eventual entrance. His marrow cried for battle, and he answered his by leashing twin prongs of bone. Madness began to grip him.