The Demon King's Supper

[Rig 17580]

 

Sᴏᴍᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴏɴ ᴛʜɪs ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ʙᴇ ᴛʀɪɢɢᴇʀɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀs. Rᴇғᴇʀs ᴛᴏ ᴍᴜʀᴅᴇʀ, ɢᴏʀᴇ, ᴅɪsғɪɢᴜʀᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇs ᴡʜɪᴄʜ sʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇ ᴄᴏɴsɪᴅᴇʀᴇᴅ 16+. This vision is accessible solely to practitioners of Naztherak and Inferis players. Music!

 

The darkness creeps into your vision as spots form behind your eyelids. In the hazy murk where dreams dwell in your sweet and succulent mind, you bear witness to the gravity of one’s actions, and the machinations of netherspawn. Within that small village in the mountains, amidst the pines and their breeze, however, it was not the usual scent of tea which lingered on the breeze, but instead the fiendish delights of a ravenous beast. With horror, you bear witness to an Inferis, once a man, devouring a demon of likewise composition. Thereupon the Champion of Velkuzat’s horns, dangling chimes echoed, their ringing signifying the Twisted King’s victory. Demon King, he proclaimed boldly, for all Inferi who did not serve the Black Pontiff or The Grey Lady fell into his wicked domain.

 

“That forbidden world which mirroreth thine own.

Moz’Strimoza, the Primeval Plane, where the Five Pentacle Lords dwell.

The Lord is my shepherd; he leadeth me on the true path to liberation.

Beneath arid skies, ye shall want not.

Thou shalt transform and be rendered into the transcendental shape. 

Iblees, thy Daemon of Salvation.

For it is Ruin that entreateth new life.

Temptation provoketh curiosity; curiosity instilleth innovation.”

The Scrolls of Faith echoed dimly throughout your mind, the harsh scrawl unfolding in Ilzakarn. The towering Twisted Kings fighting on the bridge. A smaller one brandished a spear of aurum, but struggled to lift its shield before it fell to the ground. Never one for an easy conquest, the Demon King cast his own shield aside and relied upon the diabolical mightiness of his carbarum warpick– Ruricsbane.

 

The face of the hammer stared malevolently at the newfangled Zar’akal; once a Canonist’s weapon, now turned into the dismal plaything for the King of Demons. The spear jutted out for Vriza’s face but was caught on the picked end of his warhammer. This was not without a graze, however. Sparks trailed from his armored flesh, the head of the spear gliding down and scraping his flesh-wrapped vambrace. Wisely, the fierce Zar’akal opponent sought to prepare to lurch and bite the Demon King’s arm, but he found instead only a harsh reprisal. Vriza roared and then swept out with his warhammer, catching the Zar’akal square in the face. The beast stumbled backwards, but did not relent even as he flew into the water. However, the Demon King was no mere Zar’akal – he brandished no sorcerous arts, and he cared little for demons – his hunger guided him. No, he was not a mage – he was the strongest of his species in his own mind, though a fear of death and humiliation trickled sorely behind his ears like a disjointed song of self-loathing, whose torturous voice called him “depraved, sinner, weakling.”

 

 

Vriza pushed the beast down beneath the weight of his own magnanimity as he crashed down into the Zar’akal beneath him in the water. A sickening, twisted snap accompanied the Twisted King, as he let out a howl of agony. The King of Demons pressed down with a vise grip and grappled the weaker Zar’akal, before he bashed him into the riverbed and shattered his ribs.  “Submit!” - “I submit!”

 

However, submission is not the way of kings, nor shall it be. As you bear witness, you see a courageous demon of indistinct features leap forward as Vriza prepares to deal a fatal blow with a boomsteel mace to the smaller Zar’akal’s head. Unfortunately, the blow rang out with a clamor, and sent the other Inferis reeling to the ground. BOOM!

 

You bear witness to horrors that cause your hackles to rise. Even Twisted Kings themselves cannot look upon this horrible act with ease. It cannot be said how long it has been since one Zar’akal ate another, but the avarice of Vriza is so great as he sups, that he spares nothing. The bones twist and bend, the marrow is suckled from them, all after he devours the beast’s skull. All he had to do was devour the skull! Yet… he continues eating. With horror, you awaken from your nightmare, but you find no repose from the horrible images which flash to life in your brain.

 

That familiar name was seared into your eyelids in Ilzakarn…

 

V̶̺̼̞͕̗̗̺̬͛̐̽̆͂̔̚ʀ̶̨͔̩̲͂͊̎͐͆̓̍̐̎͐͛̂ɪ̸̧̡̀̃̌́̽̉̃̊̐͊̈͑͑̄ᴢ̴̢̧̻̰͉̲̫͙̠̠̠̣͇̖͓̇̈́̇̋̑̌̿̓̚͝ᴀ̵̨̢͉̐̐͝!̴̧̹̹̦͛̾̔̀̍

 

[Lenny 1615]

Jericho observed the events atop a fence near, crunching upon an apple with a duo near; CRUNCH! The displays quickly turned far too gruesome for his own liking with the way of the demons and his tired gaze found itself averting from the scene. He opted instead to tinker with the armament in his lap before a bolt of his shot out toward an apple thrown by his friend, Sautrec, which just narrowly missed its mark; biting off a piece of its flesh.

@Cupper@MysticalWeasel

[MysticalWeasel 910]

 

•                                     ✦                                    •

 

"Woe! To see one of such stature submit to another! This is the one truth! The one way forward!"

 

Spoken from the Angelic being as it witnessed such prophetic truth, such acts of mercy upon another. For one to be weak, was a sin. And sin was to be rooted out. Given time to boil and reconstitute them self. Tears of blacken tar wept, during such sacred act. For it knew, this act was a kindness not an act of rage. And one should be ever grateful for such moments. Even to just witness it, was akin to seeing a comet pass by our rotten world. And so, this scene shall be engrained and reveled on for centuries to come. As the first trumpet blew, and the first of the ascended were cast back to the nether.

 

‡

 

 

 

 

[wowj 9747]

Spoiler

i just got really scared reading this

 

[ProcaPro 557]

A prince of the hells, in one of their rare hibernative slumbers, jolts awake. Another vision infesting their mind, another annoyance to decipher except .. this one needed no deciphering. It was almost painfully easy to understand for once, but that wasn't a comfort in any sense. The gore and violence does little to move them, but the purpose of it does.

 

The sick-ridden thing reaches out, clawing into the light from whatever hold they'd found themselves in to rest, and starts down the nearest road. No more time to rot and rest, there was work to do, clearly.

[Zarsies 6795]

Off in distant fathoms within a crooked treehouse a wizened elf bowed his head in reverence before a smoldering candelabra, remembering friendly faces and the warmth of family. He offered up a cut half of bread and cracked it, uttering:

 

"Kae'leh sulier ahernan, kae'leh sulier andria. Adont'ahern medi ay evarn'sae ahe'Malin'onn Lye'ehya karinto."

 

He drew inward and recalled the faces and names of his irreplaceable family, thin rivulets of tears wetting his face and front. How painful, he thought, the trembling sorrows of having this world, but Acaelan gifted us provisional lives to savor it best. Blessed are we, he finished the thought. With a sweaty, shaken hand he wiped his face and blew out the candles, watching the smoke trail out the window of the breezy canopy with blurred eyes. Smiling.