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tampered2006-11-13 05:39 pm
redhorror.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2006-11-13 05:39 pm
Log: Ongoing
When: Nov. 13
Rating: R just because I feel like it
Characters: Pyramid Head [[info]redhorror] and anyone who feels like bustin' up in his shit.
Summary: Having been immersed in Scarab's mind for so long, he decides to make his grand return, and once more gain the favor of Xulchibara by leading an army of the grotesque through the streets and declaring war upon the citizens of the city.
Log:
The tunnels had been quiet for far too long. Peace had been enjoyed for too long.
The black liquid was seeping into the tunnel, coagulating on the putrid, molded ceiling, until the black mass began to ooze down the walls, making no haste towards the floor. It took close to an hour for the black sludge to puddle in the middle of the tunnel, convulsing and bubbling, as if something under the black oily surface wanted out....
The single drop of blood wormed it's way through the asphalt, finding it's way through the cracks in the subterannean tunnels with a dark intelligence. And as it appeared on the tunnel ceiling above the dark puddle, the puddle grew still.
The drop fell through the air with the undulating grace that only a solitary raindrop can have, until it struck the black mass...
The dark pool rocketed skywards, slamming into the ceiling of the tunnel, and pouring downwards in thousands of tiny droplets. As the droplets hit the earth, they began to expand, to form into horrible shapes seldom seen. Split-Heads first, terrifying dog-like beings with their heads cleaved down the middle, snarling and dripping blood and spittle. Nurses next, shambling shades of what had once stood for healing and comfort now dragged steel pipes along the ground. After them were the Patients, tortured souls of the insane, bound forever in a thick membrane, shuffled along, wailing loudly. Then came the Closers, gigantic beasts with twitching limbs, formed in the rear, stomping loudly. All around these beasts formed millions of terrifying insects, deformed beasts with human faces and ansect bodies, all screeching their lust for flesh.
At the head of the horrific parade stood the General himself. The ultimate soldier, the one who felt no pain. Pyramid Head. He stood motionless for a moment, then, wordlessly, he raised the Great Knife above his head. At once, the cry went up, or horrible symphony of dark wailings and screeches.
Like an army rising from hell, the unholy battalion emerged from the mouth of the tunnel, and into the city streets. As the sirens wailed their lament for the living, the sky began to turn black, ash beginning to rain from a sky noone could see.
The force ambled down the street, in search of blood. Guilty, innocent, it didn't much matter anymore. An example must be made. Bow to Xulchibara, or be torn apart.
Rating: R just because I feel like it
Characters: Pyramid Head [[info]redhorror] and anyone who feels like bustin' up in his shit.
Summary: Having been immersed in Scarab's mind for so long, he decides to make his grand return, and once more gain the favor of Xulchibara by leading an army of the grotesque through the streets and declaring war upon the citizens of the city.
Log:
The tunnels had been quiet for far too long. Peace had been enjoyed for too long.
The black liquid was seeping into the tunnel, coagulating on the putrid, molded ceiling, until the black mass began to ooze down the walls, making no haste towards the floor. It took close to an hour for the black sludge to puddle in the middle of the tunnel, convulsing and bubbling, as if something under the black oily surface wanted out....
The single drop of blood wormed it's way through the asphalt, finding it's way through the cracks in the subterannean tunnels with a dark intelligence. And as it appeared on the tunnel ceiling above the dark puddle, the puddle grew still.
The drop fell through the air with the undulating grace that only a solitary raindrop can have, until it struck the black mass...
The dark pool rocketed skywards, slamming into the ceiling of the tunnel, and pouring downwards in thousands of tiny droplets. As the droplets hit the earth, they began to expand, to form into horrible shapes seldom seen. Split-Heads first, terrifying dog-like beings with their heads cleaved down the middle, snarling and dripping blood and spittle. Nurses next, shambling shades of what had once stood for healing and comfort now dragged steel pipes along the ground. After them were the Patients, tortured souls of the insane, bound forever in a thick membrane, shuffled along, wailing loudly. Then came the Closers, gigantic beasts with twitching limbs, formed in the rear, stomping loudly. All around these beasts formed millions of terrifying insects, deformed beasts with human faces and ansect bodies, all screeching their lust for flesh.
At the head of the horrific parade stood the General himself. The ultimate soldier, the one who felt no pain. Pyramid Head. He stood motionless for a moment, then, wordlessly, he raised the Great Knife above his head. At once, the cry went up, or horrible symphony of dark wailings and screeches.
Like an army rising from hell, the unholy battalion emerged from the mouth of the tunnel, and into the city streets. As the sirens wailed their lament for the living, the sky began to turn black, ash beginning to rain from a sky noone could see.
The force ambled down the street, in search of blood. Guilty, innocent, it didn't much matter anymore. An example must be made. Bow to Xulchibara, or be torn apart.
no subject
As he lived in her mind, so too did she now dwell in his; an extension of the Executioner itself, very like the great blade, though more deadly for all her slight stature.
Dressed in stitched, and perverted finery she could hear the choir of agony that walked before and behind her.
She heard them, and nothing more.
To her, all the world was a wash of red, and the path before her was only the direct heavy footsteps of the general.
no subject
Fire of deepest crimson, shifting violet, and the molten blue that paints the hottest of flames swirled and danced in his eyes, as those eyes looked out.
A whisper on the night wind of a deep malignant spite, that registered far too low for the human ear, but sounded as the cracking of a whip to the one it sought, the whisper-roar said thus:
YoU DaRe AtTeMpT To PrEsUmE YoUr OWN PuRpOsE? ThE PuRpOsE I MADE yOu for?
The burning eyes narrowed, and pierced the distance as they pierced the consciousness of the dark man's servant.
YoU ArE MY WeApOn. MY SeNtInEl. MY CrEaTiOn.
Horrific the executioner's consciousness may be, but it was a pale reflection of the true unmitigated, chaos abomination that birthed it.
The Red God did not look kindly on this insolence; on this presumtuous thing that dared to assume it knew not only it's Lord's will, but also his intent.
YoU HaVe OtHeR WoRk To AtTeNd To, AnD YoU WILL TurN MY SlAvEs BaCk To TaSk.
A passing of thought-mad-solid between monster and monster, and the intended target was made plain to the general.
A house that darkness built in a forest of mist.
Here was the rage of slaughter needed, and here it would come.
The creatures of pain and punishment, and th Executioner would move into the fog-bound grounds and destroy all who dared approach these lands, save those with the Lord's mark upon them.
CoMe...NoW
It was not a request....