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The Horrors of the Drowned


Damnit_Delmar
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The Horrors of the Drowned

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So cruel. She’s just a little girl

 

Those were the words that the Harren’hil fell to, the words that rang through his ears like bells tolling. His gaze still saw that plastered and pristine face, the face of one who had died many moons ago. It was a horrific visage, thinned lips, and taught skin. Yet worse, was those blue lips muttering. A litany, a rambling, a myriad of different vowels that soon merged into that single and dreadful sentence. 

 

See, as I see

 

The Delmar felt himself fall, almost endlessly into that pool of dark briney water. His gaze continued to search, and continued to gaze into the ocean depths. Salt blinded his eye, and forced it shut, causing him to feel the pressing of binds against his body and form. They were slick, yet strong, chains that were bound in the fresh and vigorous algae. He attempted to free himself, attempting to rid himself of the shackles that drug him to the floor. 

 

The wise know of the waters truth

 

His eye, that singular ashen hue, was forced open and upon it. Did it gaze into that endless expanse, yet what he saw was not wisdom nor writing. But rather, the endless expanse of bodies and corpses that littered the ocean floor. Bones of all forms, covered in all matter of coral and algae, shifted their hollowed gaze to the bound Delmar. Their sockets bubbled with water, as they all cheered and jeered forward.
 

“Join us, Join us, Join us”

 

Every utterance of a word from the undead caused a shiver down the Delmars spine, his gaze shifting about as he attempted to snap and struggle out of his watery binds. Yet no luck occurred, his body was still slowed by the weight. His breathing grew more and more fearful, as he pushed against his binds, struggling to escape from his predicament in the sea. Yet with every struggle, with every resistance, he sank further and further. Bubbles escaped past every breath, as he felt something constrain around his throat. Bound hands drifting to the top of the water, wishing and praying to break the surface. Yet just as it did, every time he tried, the voices continued upon their taunt and chat. 

 

“Stare into the Deep, Delmar” 

 

That hue of ash would search, a glint of bloodied blue, nearing that socket. An edge of blade that neared the corrupted sclera. He thrashed against the chains, against the waters, and against the inevitable pain of it…

 

He awoke in his bed, his gaze flicking about as he felt that moisture clung to his skin, his breath running quick as he clutched his head. The manic and figment whisperers, running rampant from within his mind as he gave a manic chuckle. 

 

Just a dream. . .It is just, a drea-” 

 

He would stop, his gaze panning over to his sleeve, his eye widening as he saw the strand of rotted and decrepit hair that clung to his attire. His look, contorted to the face of fear, of terror and horror. The once egotistical man, now having reached that point breakage. He lurched from the bed, and stumbled towards the blade, a palm grasping for the simple tool as he brought it up to his features.
 

“IS THIS WHAT YOU WANT! IS THIS WHAT YOU SEEK!”

 

As all those who have fallen to the whims of madness, to dread and anxiety, so did the Delmar fall into the path and pits of his forefather. For within his weakened grasp, did that hue of malefic ash, stare into the deep blue of the seaside waters. Just as the Adunian had done, and would do, for the rest of those days. 

 

 

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A wretched hag hums in pride deliverance of her song; a twisted grin spun as a chortle summons in reverberation through those icy canyons which her throne lie. 
 

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Awesome writing

 

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