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    The Taste of Blood [Private, Quinton & Eris]

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    Quinton Haywood

    Player -
    Lineage : Necromancer's Passion
    Position : None
    Posts : 93
    Guild : N/A
    Cosmic Coins : 0
    Dungeon Tokens : 0
    Mentor : N/A
    Experience : 150

    Character Sheet
    Character Name: Quinton Haywood
    Primary Magic: Warrior's Heart
    Secondary Magic:

    The Taste of Blood [Private, Quinton & Eris]

    Post by Quinton Haywood on 24th May 2016, 8:23 pm

    At first, the cold wet floor was all that Quinton could feel against his body. He laid crumbled on the floor of some damp, dark cell. As he slowly steered, a stiff cough came out from him, followed by his hand shooting to his lower gut. As the coughing slowed, and his eyes wondered down, he could just make out by the dim light of a torch a very shoddy stitch job on an infected wound. “Shit…” The words hung softly on his lips as he rolled onto his back, grunting as he tried to lift his head up before letting it hang back down. His other hand felt around his person and the surroundings that he could reach, searching for his sword at the least, but no luck. Mustering up what strength he could, Quinton rolled onto his knees with another cough. He hadn’t the slightest idea of where he was at, but he needed to escape quickly.

    Crawling his way towards the door, a plan was already starting to hatch in his head as he grabbed a small pebble and some straw from his nearby make-shift mat. Grabbing the thick metal, the young man just managed to pull himself up. His arms were just enough to hold him up as he fumbled with his two tools. So far, he had hoped to channel just enough energy into that small pebble then dangle it in front of the lock to blow it up, but he wouldn’t have the chance to set his plans in motion. In a small moment of weakness, his grip faded just enough to lose a hold of the pebble, it hitting the floor and rolling away. With another grunt, Quinton slide down the bars to the floor, reaching and arm out for the pebble, his side practically splitting in half with pain.

    The pain was so great he couldn’t even hear the sound of approaching footsteps, before a hard stomp landed on his outreached arm. A groan of pain rang out from Quinton as the guard dug his heel into his forearm, making it almost feel as if his arm was going to snap before the pain finally let up. His arm shot back to his body, the man curling up in pain as the guard chuckled to himself. Soon, the pain was to much as Quinton passed out again.

    By the time he had come too again, he was being dragged about, two guards dragging him along with his feet dangling behind him. His head could barely bring itself up, grimacing as the pain of the wound will persisted. All around him, the sounds of people chatting became present. His head was just able to roll to the left, looking out to what appeared to be a dinner party, but every guest was dressed in a red cloak. Men and women alike, the difference was only noticeable when someone spoke. His almost limp body was finally dumped to the floor, but not before his wound was reopened. A painful shout rang out from Quinton was a blade dug into him, hands rushing to the now bleeding wound. With his hands blooded now, a hand reached out for some kind of support, unable to even hear the nearby man that had been chanting during his moment of pain. Unknowing to him, the stone base he begun to crawl up was an altar of an ancient evil that everyone there had been worshiping. The Lady of Red.

    Quinton's trembling arm was all that was keeping him from slipping back down to the floor, blood beginning to pour out from the wound, knife still embedded into his side. "S-shit..." The pain buzzed through his body, muffling the noise around him of laughter and cheering as the ring leader called for one of the guards to finish him off. The adrenaline began kicking in just in time as Quinton's vision focused right onto a man coming at him with a knife in hand. As the big brute came down at him with the knife, Quinton rolled out of the way with renewed vigor, causing the knife to came down right on the altar instead. Knowing he had to act, Quinton quickly jumped onto the back of the man, reached around and grabbed at the knife, easily ripping it from the guards surprised hands and without hesitation, he ripped it right into the man's neck.

    The blood from the guards throat splattered before he quickly went limp, leaving Quinton to stagger back and hold the knife up defensively. The crowd hushed as the young warrior staggered where he stood. The pain that had been tormenting him so greatly had suddenly subsided, the memory of it forgotten so quickly thanks to the adrenaline. He felt like he could run at the speed of light, but that quickly faded. During the struggle, Quinton had wound up only causing the blade to push further in, causing it to splice into an organ. By now, Quinton had lost far to much blood, his knees quaking as he suddenly fell backwards. The color drained from his face as he bleed out quickly. His eyes quickly grew heavy as his breathing slowed.

    It wasn't hard to tell that this was it. He wasn't going to make it out this time. He was too far gone now. He had come so far to find out what had happened to his family, but now he was going to end up just like them. And in his last moments, he regretted it all. He was foolish to think he could actual do something against an unknown opponent that was able to slaughter everyone he loved so easily, and he paid the ultimate price for it. Not even out of his twenties, and with him would come the end of his families bloodline of proud warriors. And with that came his end, not with a bang like a warrior like himself would like, but with a sad whimper into the dark.
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    Eris
     
     

    Moderator- Developer/GFX Artist- Regular VIP Status- Gain An Artifact- Quality Badge Level 1- Quality Badge Level 2- Quality Badge Level 3- Horseman- 11 Sinner- God Of Ishval- Ten Wizard Saint Member- Guild Master- God Slayer- Demon Slayer- Dragon Slayer- Legal Guild Ace- H-Rank- S-Rank- Richie Rich- Rich- Veteran Level 3- Veteran Level 2- Veteran Level 1- Character Application Approved!- Magic Application Approved!- Obtain A Secondary Magic!- Complete Your First Job!- Join A Faction!- Get A Pet!- Obtain A Lineage!- The Sacred- Senior [500]- Player -
    Lineage : Devil's Conquest
    Position : None
    Posts : 1471
    Guild : Grim Heresy [GM]
    Cosmic Coins : 5
    Dungeon Tokens : 0
    Experience : 0

    Character Sheet
    Character Name: Eris/Sanguinoth | Lady Red/Denielle
    Primary Magic: Sunset Eclipse - The Sandstorm GS
    Secondary Magic: Titan Eclipse • Devil Pact

    Re: The Taste of Blood [Private, Quinton & Eris]

    Post by Eris on 7th June 2016, 6:10 pm

    Eris





    Walking the halls of her palace Eris watched the little lives of the countless souls play out in her walls.    Her Palace was a realm in its own right,  with cities built into her walls and across rooms dedicated to the expansion of the civilization of the tiny population that lived there in her presence.  One would be hard pressed to guess whether they were tiny or if the palace, and Eris herself,  were truly that large.   Whatever the case may be,  the whole civilization sprawled within her palace easily within Eris's watchful eye from her throne or wherever else she may happen to go.    At her leisure she may reduce herself to their level and walk their streets,  indulge in their festivities and luxuries.   


    Many of the souls here were those who had earned their place in this afterlife with her.  Each to their own merits had earned some place in the palace city,  large manors and estates dotted the landscape of buildings and towers.   Many others were swept up in the crossfire,  sacrifices,  victims of her conquests,  and lived lesser lives in the narrows and under the thumb of those who had won their estate in service.   Even the life of a slave within this palace was a life of luxury compared to the endless sea of the dead and tormented living among demons and lost souls in the wilder lands beyond the shadow of Eris's great palace.  


    Many of the lesser souls were effectively discarded to the wastes beyond,  but occasionally a soul would come that was worth a least a little more.   It would find itself captive in the Tower of Memories trapped in visions of their lives twisted into nightmares without end until some use for them was found either by Eris's hand or withdrawn by one of the elites of her realm for service or harvesting,  as these souls of interest tended to possess a magical touch to them that set them apart from the countless fodder that found its way into the realm. 


    Eris found herself there now,  seeing all the new souls that had emerged here.   Their bodies attached to the walls of flesh as though they were growing there anew.   Veins, nerves and muscle sinews linking them to the palace itself similarly to how one would emerge in the land beyond,  but redirected here by the powerful magics of hell.   


    Each one of the souls was trapped in their own various degrees of completion with the rest of them yet to grow.   Those that were fully grown remained stuck to the wall as though their skin was sewn into the wall seemlessly sealing their flesh to the rippling walls behind them.    Intestine-line tubes running through their body cavities and veins crawling along the walls and over their bodies to disappear as they grew into the bodies themselves.  


    White tendrils hung down from the ivory ceiling to caress their heads in place,  the nerve-like endings burrowing themselves into the eyes of the victims here,  feeding them the visions and merging their minds into a collective hivemind of souls trapped in their nightmares.   


    There were hundreds kept here at any given moment.  Some had been there since before the Cult of Sin was even founded on Earthland,  just one of many worlds.    The older bodies were entangled the most, their bodies fully distinct from the wall,  yet encased in growths and connections that ran through their bodies.   


    Eris was more interested in newer lives however.   Somebody who might be of use to her in the actions ongoing in Earthland.  Perhaps Fiore in particular,  a hot spot for magical blood.     


    There were a few selections to pick from.  If none satisfied her she could make due with taking more mundane lives from the wastes that did not get separated out to form in this tower.   


    Years,  months,  weeks.   Eris brushed her hand across them as she walked as though picking out a book from a library.   To her vision she could see the flames coming off of them,  telling her about the bound souls here.    She paused as a new flame sparked in her senses,  a new flame flickering to life within the wall not yet to form.   Minutes.   Eris's minds eye trailed to the cultists in Fiore.   So many of them,  worshiping her.  Offering to her material and mortal sacrifice.  She usually did not pay them close attention,  there were too many to bother.  Offshoots or independent groups sprouting up around some new or old name of hers.    One in particular managed to sacrifice a mage in her name.   


    A fresh soul,  ripe with memories and hopes,  and not yet disconnected from the life they might have once knew.   Fresh,  and easy to insert back into society.  


    Eris sunk her hand into the wall,  blood spurting from it as her hand tore through to grasp the spark of fire within directly and pull it free.    The flesh of the wall and the bone that formed the core structure pulled along with her in a slow forceful drag,  giving a suction and a pop before Eris tore free a full complete skeleton with a mess of veins, organs,  and flesh strewn about in a chaotic jumble.    Eris's power accelerated the growth to form much of what was present there just in the motion of drawing the soul from the wall.   


    Nerves flared to life in searing agony as they hung exposed.   Eris's hand clutching the spine at the base of the skull as the body visibly grew,  writhing and twitching beneath her hand,  intestines and circulatory system appearing to crawl up the bones and raw flesh to set themselves into place.  


    Within a minute a very red and raw man was held aloft by her hand to collapse on the floor when she let go and airways started to form,  previously impeded by Eris's hand,  allowing the burning lungs to finally take its first breath and activate the frantic brain and allow physical cognition to take place in the souless form of the Fioran mage.
        



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    Deception | Despair | Domination
    H 1 S 7 A 7+1 B 8+1 C 9 D 11
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    Quinton Haywood

    Player -
    Lineage : Necromancer's Passion
    Position : None
    Posts : 93
    Guild : N/A
    Cosmic Coins : 0
    Dungeon Tokens : 0
    Mentor : N/A
    Experience : 150

    Character Sheet
    Character Name: Quinton Haywood
    Primary Magic: Warrior's Heart
    Secondary Magic:

    Re: The Taste of Blood [Private, Quinton & Eris]

    Post by Quinton Haywood on 11th July 2016, 11:14 pm

    At first, there was nothing. No light, no sound, not even the presence of mind to even attempt to comprehend what was happening to the now deceased young man. Everything simply came to be in a matter of mere moments. Quinton’s eyes darted open as he shot upright in bed, his heart pounding in his chest. “H-how…?” A hand rested against his chest, his mind racing. He had died, he was sure of it. His wound was infected, and he was bleeding fast enough to simply collapse on the spot. He shouldn’t have been breathing right now.

    His eyes looked up, looking for any kind of answer when his breathing slowed greatly. He was… home. “This can’t be real…” Quinton hadn’t been in his room back at home in ages… because it wasn’t there anymore. He left here years ago because everything was gone… “Am I dreaming?” His mind couldn’t even figure out what was real now. What part of his life had just been suddenly fabricated in mere moments. Was he just hallucinating now, or did he dream up everything he had been through? Everything here seemed so real, but he needed to make sure. Throwing the covers off of himself, Quinton stumbled out of bed as he quickly began to walk through the halls of his old home.

    Not a single thing seemed out of place. Even looking out the windows, he could see the wide open fields with towering mountains in the distance of his birthplace. As he came to the stairs, he could hear someone downward, prompting his heart to skip a beat. “It can’t be…” Slowly, Quinton stepped down, gulping as he almost felt himself afraid of what he’d see. At the bottom, he could hear the noise coming from the kitchen, prompting him to slowly press his back to the wall and creep towards the doorway.

    As he peered in, Quinton almost felt his legs give out from under him… His mother… Standing there working away as she seemed to be cooking something. The young man simply stood in the doorway with a dumbfounded look on his face. “M-mom?” His voice finally called out meekly, not sure if what he was really seeing was real.

    That fantasy quickly weathered away when the face of whoever it was standing across the room from him became visible. What was there wasn’t the kind, gentle, caring face of his mother he had known, instead there was nothing but the husk that was left. Maggots crawled about the rotten flesh of her face, eyes long since rotted away. It had been so unexpecting for Quinton that he had been sent head over heels and onto the floor, crawling backwards before his back hit against the wall.

    The eerie moans that came from the decaying corpse had put the man in a shock, unable to even think as the phantom that was his mother crept closer to him. Just as the spectre had raised a bony hand up to point at him, a second body appeared behind her, grabbing the remains of his mother by the head and slitting the still fleshy throat wide up, causing a strain of blood to spray out and splash over Quinton’s face, temporarily blinding him.

    After his hands had whipped the blood away, the only thing in his sight was that of the man who had just assault whatever it was that was taking on the appearance of his mother. The man, unlike the other, was not decayed, he was not some fiendish creature, it was a mere mortal man. The man that had taken everything from him. The fear that was just with the young warrior quickly faded, being replaced with a burning hatred. But as he scrambled up onto his feet and tried to charge for the man, everything suddenly burned away.

    It was impossible for him to understand what was happening to him at this point, no sense even able to feel what was happening around him before a searing pain ripped through his body. It was like nothing he had ever experienced before in his life. As his muscles grew, so did the struggling her gave to some form of resistance around his neck, the only other thing he could feel at this point.

    As his airways finally started to form, he was dropped and left to crumble down onto a floor as Quinton gasped for air, unable to quench the burning that he was still left with. He felt unbelievably weak, not even able to lift his head up enough to see who it was that stood in front of him. Every attempt to pull himself up ended with him collapsing over and over. Slowly, he stumbled closer to the wall, not realizing just what it was he gripped onto to slowly pull himself upwards, eventually able to see someone in front of him.

    His entire body still trembled with phantom like pains, the memory of what he had just gone through burned into his very flesh. He hadn’t a single idea who it was that stood in front of him, but she towered over his own impressive height. The anger that had swelled up in him remained ever present, pushing him to lash out, but the mere presence of the woman in front of him kept his body still.

    “W-where am I…” His voice crackled as the words left his lips. “I-I was… dead…” Nothing made sense to him at this point. There wasn’t a chance that he could still be alive, not after what he had gone through. And there was no magic on the face of the earth that could change that fact.

      Current date/time is 19th August 2018, 2:25 pm