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| Tweet Topic Started: Nov 13 2006, 01:30 AM (208 Views) | |
| Mordeth Van Alucard | Nov 13 2006, 01:30 AM Post #1 |
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Old Skool
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Mordeth stopped outside the iron-wrought gates of the mansion, looking up at the majestic, sprawling home. "Ah, white-washed tombs. A beautiful crypt. . ." Mordeth drew out his straight-razor, an expensive curio, the handle encased in ebony with gold script in an ancient tongue few remembered. From his overcoat pocket he drew out a strange artifact, a small idol depiciting a goat-headed woman with exagerated breasts and a yawning cunt. Whispering in a diabolical tongue that seemed to darken even the stars, he said, "Shub-Niggurath, ygnilar tok 'u shimtorr, ygnilar tok 'u traab." (Shub-Niggurath, shroud me in darkness, shroud me in shadow.). So saying, he slid the razor effortlessly across his left thumb. The blade opened a neat, surgical laceration on the pad of his thumb, which quickly welled with maroon, almost black, blood. With a wild grin he smeared the blood over the head of the Goat with a Thousand Young, and immediately faded from sight. Mordeth grinned in the thick darkness of the Shadowrealm, that maddeningly two-dimensional plane that Mother Night had shown him so long ago. The price for this knowledge had been high. He absently felt the empty place between his legs. That fucking goat-headed whore had seduced him, granting him an experience that transcended the line between pain and pleasure, and had left him with nothing but a bleeding hole. Her price - his sacrifice - had been his manhood. None of the brittle tomes, bound in human flesh, had said anything about her having teeth at both ends! However, twas all in the past. The knowledge he had gained was worth the loss. It would certainly serve him well now. It took him a moment to regain his bearings, he silently cursed himself for his moment of introspection, and in the Shadowrealm of all locales! Stupid! Alas. . .that too twas in the past now. Stroking the letter he had written and sealed, in the old way, with red wax and his signet ring, he slithered through the shadows towards the porch of the mansion. He dropped on the doormat, snickering as he thought to himself, 'neither rain, nor sleet, nor dark of night. . .', and with a small thought towards a cigarette and a nice glass of wine, slithered back through the shadows and away, into the night. NOTE: the letter reads as follows, in the next topic, should Lady Tempest Adora choose to open and read it: |
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