The Bloodied Basin

[Damnit_Delmar 1177]

*This post is not common knowledge, only those present may know what is going on*

Spoiler

 

The Bloodied Basin

 

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“Yet these answers do not come free,” The Adunian sat there at the edge of his bed, that brown cloth still covering both of his stitched hues, hands folding one over the other as he pondered over the words of the masked figure. “You will ache with pain, you will suffer, you will walk till you can no longer walk. When you beg for the hands of death itself to take you from this cruel and unforgiving life that you live. . .that is when you will get your answers.”

 

“He cannot possibly mean IT. . .can he?” He stood, mind racing with a hundred different thoughts and plots, a multitude of questions swarming through that jumbled psyche of his. Thoughts of the drowned bodies, thoughts of the glistening sickly orange eye, thoughts of the flying crow. It all led him to pace, his steps anything but subtle, as he walked back and forth. Anxiety brewing within the weak willed man, that true and unruly man of vice. After a few moments of pacing, he would stop. His gifted, or perhaps cursed, gaze came to rest upon the arm of his. How vain he truly was, the pigment shining with all the glamor of gold, yet still in a slightly weakened and shriveled state. For a moment, all he could do was stare, pondering what had led him to even making such a choice. Yet, he did not have to think long, he knew that reason for the golden glint within his palm now. Just as he knew one of the reasons for his pursuit of this path. For it was all in the pursuit of his own mortal greed and ambition, the ever hungering mortal, craving for further sense of gain. 

 

His golden digits, furled into a true and proper fist, nails biting into the weakened palm and yet even still. They would manage to burrow, the lifeblood of such just barely spilling onto the clenched hand. He grimaced terribly, the ever visible ivory of his teeth, glinting in the low candle light. He felt his thoughts, his mood, shift like ever present waters, glee turning to irritation at the thought of doing the task. Yet even with such anger, even with such ire slowly building, the words of another who guided sprung back into the thoughts of the man. “Yes, for even the selfish give away their blessing, but not without payment” 

 

“Is this my price?” His covered gaze slowly turned in the empty room, towards that small bowl of water. Slowly, he stumbled to it, a palm grasping at the basin's edge. Yet when he turned to look into those murky depths, he could not help but feel choked of breath. Horror growing upon his features, the waters reflecting once more that grinning dead and drowned Delmar, a palm seeming to rise out of the depths and latch onto him. Pulling him deeper and further into the pools. All the while, the dead Mali’dun’s reflection chuckled with glee, eager still  to pull the struggling Harren'hil to the depths. His last thoughts, being a mumbled phrase, barely discernible from the lips of the departed and drowned. 

 

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“AGH!” He bolted upright from the bed, hand pushing to his eyes, as he felt a splitting pain throughout his head. His ears, tingling from the last words he heard, his breathing coming out in big heaving waves. His head whipped about, gray curls bouncing across his face as he looked about anxiously in his room, all seeming fine as he started to slow his breathing. Before he gave a slow nod of his head. 

 

“Everything is fine, everything is just fine” He paused, his hand feeling damp, and so he looked down to it. Shock filled him, and swiftly too did the pain, the inside of his palm wet with his own blood. Grabbing a nearby bandage, he slowly wrapped the golden palm, before he slipped his leather gloves back on. He took a moment to ponder, and think. The man slowly stood, a cautious gaze upon the pool of rippling water. Yet nothing more stirred, nothing more came to occur in that room, except for the single thought. The question of to leave or to stay in this ruined sanctuary, in safety and mediocre health. So he sat, idly grabbing his belongs and placing them near the edge of the bed. His mind wandered for seconds, minutes, hours…

 

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It took some time before the  door to the stolen room slammed shut, causing any of the paintings that were still there, to shake and shudder. He walked to the entrance of the ruined castle, his steps stopping as he made his way to the old ruined road. To his right, rested the path to the square of Savoy, and towards the ever inviting tavern and people. Yet, to his left, sat the ruined iron barred entrance. The rusted metal, inviting him outside towards the desolate dunes of the south. He paused in that moment, unsure and anxious as to what to do in that moment. That was, until he heard the ever present noise, the sharp caw of a bird, alerting him to its presence. He looked towards it, and it was there he saw it, the black winged bird staring at him from the banners. Before he had time to even properly react, the bird once more looked at him, and cawed. Before it flew off the banners and into the direction of that blurry gate. The man merely stood there, mouth agape in shock. Then, slowly, a noise began to emit from his throat. At first, slow and soft, though swiftly growing into a mighty chuckle. His cane tapped forward, and so he started to walk down the path, towards the ever-damned desert 

 

“That is when you will drink the waters, granted by my Almighty”

Spoiler

Some more fun character development, thank you to all of those that helped drive or are driving this rp 

[Cloakedsphere 1462]

Death to many is seen as death of ones physical form. Simple is, as the mind of the mere mortal descendant am. But is even death considered a true ending to ones life? Or perhaps it is seen as a new beginning for some. When you feel you've no more life to live, no more life to give, what drives a mortal to continue on? For if he serves no purpose, what value does he wield in a realm of have's and have not's? Many contemplate their life and what has led them to the inevitable end... But was it truly inevitable? Could it have been prevented? What mistakes you've made define your path as much as the great you may have done. Perhaps your mistakes outweighed your greatness. But if it was not inevitable, then, is this truly the end? For some it is. For others, an eternity of torture and servitude awaits them. As your soul is stretched beyond imaginable means, rolled through the rolling pins filled with nails, tacks, and blades you will wonder if it is the end. Only to have your soul ripped into thin air, the millionth piece floating off into the atmos. Only to be put back together and to suffer a new type of torture once more. 

You will know pain.

You will know suffering.

You will know regret.

You will repent. 

 

Your almighty may forgive you.

 

Only in his forgiveness, will you find your answers.

 

 

 

The masked figure continues to wander about Savoy as he watches the mice crawl amongst the snakes.