Devonus
01-28-15, 06:24 PM
(The following adventure through madness contains graphic material suited for mature audiances. Subject matter may include, sexuality, grotesque violence, nudity, madness, drugs, and all the other things that go bump in the night)
It was a frigid eve, the moon behind clouds looks so lost, so forlorn. Perhaps it knew, that tonight, some were fated to mourn. Agar was lost in the wood, free on this night to seek out and do as he pleased. It was a simple matter, I attended tonight. I had been to this logging village on many a night since I awoke, always careful to seek out the weaker, or those who visited from far away lands for the strong sturdy wood gathered by courageous hands in the red wood.
The hunger was soft, it did not need nor desire that warm quench of blood to still its burn. A mild nuisance that barely went noticed by my mind or flesh. I could skip tonight’s meal, perhaps wait another day or two before actually slaking my thirst, but I desired the company of more living souls, and it was a rare night indeed I could ignore their ever persistent thrum of blood and beating heart, regardless of how still the beast may be inside. No it was far better to simply find a poor soul, lost in the darkness of the night, rarely found before the morn and I was gone.
My tall lithe form walks steadily down the trail, a ranger returning from the cursed forest, no attempt to conceal or hide my presence, such acts always seemed to catch the eye of any woodsman lingering past the safety of day. A few locals to many had fallen to my need to silence their braying regarding my skulking about when I was younger. For a time, I had remained away from this place, in truth this would be my first visit in sixty years or more, far beyond the natural life span of most who lived in this place, save the occasional elf or half elf, and they rarely lingered long this close to the cursed forest.
Still, it was a rare occurrence to find any soul about this late, so I am much surprised to hear a frantic shout aimed at me.
“Blandieeeee, HEY BLANDDIIEE...”
I frown in annoyance, the loud obnoxious sound ringing in my pointed ears. I turn to the source of the yelling, hand on hip and my head cocked to the side, an air of disdain and superiority aimed at the hunched figure by a tree. Its a balding old man, sores dot his face as he shivers in the cold beneath a moth eaten blanket, bare feet poking out from beneath, curled in and buckled as he attempts to huddle away from the cold. His feet bleed from open wounds and scratches, the blood dances in the air, smelling half dead, yet alluring in some fashion as well.
“Ey, blanddiee! My clothes, their magicked yes they is!”
I scoff in annoyance, turning away from the begger and start to head towards the village again, Its soft glow shimmers not far away, the faint scent of mortal life, of sweat, flesh, blood, and sewage. It hangs in the air, disdainful, filthy, yet so full of life and inviting. I murmur to myself to just ignore the senile old man, hearing him rustle and move towards me.
My long hair flairs out behind me as I attempt to move as fast as humanely possible away from the crazed man. When I feel his greasy, pocked sore hands touching it I spin with horrid rage in my eyes, mouth opened to deliver a flurry of insults, only to take a step back, mouth agape in mild shock and horror.
The man is emaciated , flesh seeming to barely hang to from visible bone, eyes sunken and sullen, what were perhaps brown eyes are open wide with madness, red veins straining against his corneas, trying to burst from his ill figure, and, he is completely Nude. His member stands erect, pustules ooze and dot it from the scrotum to tip, rashes cover most of his legs, scratched open by his own scaly nails that just touched my hair. I stumble back, aghast to be so accosted on what I hoped would be uneventful night.
“See Blandieee! Theys magicked, an wondrous! Light and luxurious, thread count in the thousands they is. Ands the ignerent and stupid no see them, nose they dont! Yous can though aright? Yous stunned by their butty.”
He approaches me, arms flung wide in presentation. I’m so stunned by the mans madness that barely realize he is coming closer till his member brushes against me and he brings his arm around me.
Blast this fool to hell! No one will miss such an affront to life, he is more damned in his existence then I!
I grimace as I plunge forward, allowing the man to press his withered and diseased flesh against mine. I feel his ragged crusted nails in my hair as my fangs sink into him. I focus on the blood, ignoring the fact that the mans pustulent member now presses against my leg, letting the hunger consume me. Even then, my mind could not completely repress the defilement I was now being inflicted with, but the beast cared little. His blood tastes old, musty, disease danced on my lips, a horrid rank taste, the man literally tasted half dead. However, amongst all the rotten, depraved taste that trickled down my throat, an invigorating essence danced.
My eyes grew bright red, veins pumping the necrotic blood into my soul as that fluid began to course through me. It started simple, a quickness to the world around me, the moments both lasted forever yet rushed past in a blink. For an eternity I drained the mans blood it felt, all around me the world spinned and pulsed, as frantic neurons fired off unable to contain the sheer ecstasy of this mans blood.
And then it was done, the mans cold dead body hung limply around my neck, my eyes staring into his, once bulging eyes bright and lifeless, the blood that had pushed them so far from their sockets receded, now in me.
I stand there for a moment, watching his corpse slide away from mine, greasy yet sublime. It happened so quickly, yet so fluidly, I smiled as it seemed to dance with me, sickened flesh grinding against mine as it fell, reminiscent of the harlots I had visited in the dark places of the world.
I admired him on the ground, each pustule, each scab and rash, shone with new clarity. Even though he lay lifeless they pulsed with a life all their own, shown with a disgusting majesty so far beyond anything I had ever know.
He is beautiful... but he is man?
I kneel besides him, running my hand along his arm in curiosity, and I feel it. The softness, so sublime, woven air that coats his skin. I franticly claw at the air about him, I must have it. Such richness, such splendor, to make even this sickened mortal so beautiful. Its perfection so complete it has no edge.
Perhaps I am ignorant
That I can feel yet not see
Perhaps I who am cursed
am not meant for beauty...
No no, It is mine
I do swear!
Ill take it yes I will
I WILL BE FAIR
Fine, if I can not find the edge, there are other ways to wear such finery, on this forlorn moonlit eve.
It was a frigid eve, the moon behind clouds looks so lost, so forlorn. Perhaps it knew, that tonight, some were fated to mourn. Agar was lost in the wood, free on this night to seek out and do as he pleased. It was a simple matter, I attended tonight. I had been to this logging village on many a night since I awoke, always careful to seek out the weaker, or those who visited from far away lands for the strong sturdy wood gathered by courageous hands in the red wood.
The hunger was soft, it did not need nor desire that warm quench of blood to still its burn. A mild nuisance that barely went noticed by my mind or flesh. I could skip tonight’s meal, perhaps wait another day or two before actually slaking my thirst, but I desired the company of more living souls, and it was a rare night indeed I could ignore their ever persistent thrum of blood and beating heart, regardless of how still the beast may be inside. No it was far better to simply find a poor soul, lost in the darkness of the night, rarely found before the morn and I was gone.
My tall lithe form walks steadily down the trail, a ranger returning from the cursed forest, no attempt to conceal or hide my presence, such acts always seemed to catch the eye of any woodsman lingering past the safety of day. A few locals to many had fallen to my need to silence their braying regarding my skulking about when I was younger. For a time, I had remained away from this place, in truth this would be my first visit in sixty years or more, far beyond the natural life span of most who lived in this place, save the occasional elf or half elf, and they rarely lingered long this close to the cursed forest.
Still, it was a rare occurrence to find any soul about this late, so I am much surprised to hear a frantic shout aimed at me.
“Blandieeeee, HEY BLANDDIIEE...”
I frown in annoyance, the loud obnoxious sound ringing in my pointed ears. I turn to the source of the yelling, hand on hip and my head cocked to the side, an air of disdain and superiority aimed at the hunched figure by a tree. Its a balding old man, sores dot his face as he shivers in the cold beneath a moth eaten blanket, bare feet poking out from beneath, curled in and buckled as he attempts to huddle away from the cold. His feet bleed from open wounds and scratches, the blood dances in the air, smelling half dead, yet alluring in some fashion as well.
“Ey, blanddiee! My clothes, their magicked yes they is!”
I scoff in annoyance, turning away from the begger and start to head towards the village again, Its soft glow shimmers not far away, the faint scent of mortal life, of sweat, flesh, blood, and sewage. It hangs in the air, disdainful, filthy, yet so full of life and inviting. I murmur to myself to just ignore the senile old man, hearing him rustle and move towards me.
My long hair flairs out behind me as I attempt to move as fast as humanely possible away from the crazed man. When I feel his greasy, pocked sore hands touching it I spin with horrid rage in my eyes, mouth opened to deliver a flurry of insults, only to take a step back, mouth agape in mild shock and horror.
The man is emaciated , flesh seeming to barely hang to from visible bone, eyes sunken and sullen, what were perhaps brown eyes are open wide with madness, red veins straining against his corneas, trying to burst from his ill figure, and, he is completely Nude. His member stands erect, pustules ooze and dot it from the scrotum to tip, rashes cover most of his legs, scratched open by his own scaly nails that just touched my hair. I stumble back, aghast to be so accosted on what I hoped would be uneventful night.
“See Blandieee! Theys magicked, an wondrous! Light and luxurious, thread count in the thousands they is. Ands the ignerent and stupid no see them, nose they dont! Yous can though aright? Yous stunned by their butty.”
He approaches me, arms flung wide in presentation. I’m so stunned by the mans madness that barely realize he is coming closer till his member brushes against me and he brings his arm around me.
Blast this fool to hell! No one will miss such an affront to life, he is more damned in his existence then I!
I grimace as I plunge forward, allowing the man to press his withered and diseased flesh against mine. I feel his ragged crusted nails in my hair as my fangs sink into him. I focus on the blood, ignoring the fact that the mans pustulent member now presses against my leg, letting the hunger consume me. Even then, my mind could not completely repress the defilement I was now being inflicted with, but the beast cared little. His blood tastes old, musty, disease danced on my lips, a horrid rank taste, the man literally tasted half dead. However, amongst all the rotten, depraved taste that trickled down my throat, an invigorating essence danced.
My eyes grew bright red, veins pumping the necrotic blood into my soul as that fluid began to course through me. It started simple, a quickness to the world around me, the moments both lasted forever yet rushed past in a blink. For an eternity I drained the mans blood it felt, all around me the world spinned and pulsed, as frantic neurons fired off unable to contain the sheer ecstasy of this mans blood.
And then it was done, the mans cold dead body hung limply around my neck, my eyes staring into his, once bulging eyes bright and lifeless, the blood that had pushed them so far from their sockets receded, now in me.
I stand there for a moment, watching his corpse slide away from mine, greasy yet sublime. It happened so quickly, yet so fluidly, I smiled as it seemed to dance with me, sickened flesh grinding against mine as it fell, reminiscent of the harlots I had visited in the dark places of the world.
I admired him on the ground, each pustule, each scab and rash, shone with new clarity. Even though he lay lifeless they pulsed with a life all their own, shown with a disgusting majesty so far beyond anything I had ever know.
He is beautiful... but he is man?
I kneel besides him, running my hand along his arm in curiosity, and I feel it. The softness, so sublime, woven air that coats his skin. I franticly claw at the air about him, I must have it. Such richness, such splendor, to make even this sickened mortal so beautiful. Its perfection so complete it has no edge.
Perhaps I am ignorant
That I can feel yet not see
Perhaps I who am cursed
am not meant for beauty...
No no, It is mine
I do swear!
Ill take it yes I will
I WILL BE FAIR
Fine, if I can not find the edge, there are other ways to wear such finery, on this forlorn moonlit eve.