A Dripping Gate.

[Pro_Whistler 37]

~Yorae, apprehensively checking the air around her with her eyes, looks for signs of life other than her and her 'artwork.' Tittering with a hollow and sadistic laughter that would chill the bones of any man daring enough to listen to it, she places foot after foot into the dry grass. Hearing a short crack, she turns, realizing only the wind had snapped a twig. Her eyes calming again, a small giggle rolling from her mouth. She turns to the Gates of Telarith Ilyur, the town she had been stalking the residents of for so long. Their moves watched, as she swooped down and stole their dry and needed foods. Dancing in a twirling motion, she holds out a sickly black bag. A revolting scent rose from it, twisting the air from scents of a bakery and chicken, to the morbid scents of death and decay. Delving into the innards inside the bag, she withdraws a bloody start to the over twenty feet of intestine. An eye twitching to the now clean wall, she reaches up, toes strained under the weight. Driving an iron spike into the wood and stone that makes the wall, she hangs the beginning of her caustic artwork. Draping the intestine over the cold spike, a hissing releases, the decayed food of her last victim escaping from a tear in the wall of the organ.

She cackles pulling back from her 'ornamentation' of the wall. Drawing a flayed skin from the now bloody and foul bag, she breaths in deeply. "The Victim was healthy," she thought. "I am in no danger," she mumbled, before sadistic giggles rack her diaphragm again. ~Eh, Huh He Hah!~ she vocalizes, glancing around her with flicking eyes. As she takes yarn and a needle from her pack, covered with dried blood. She begins to draw the darkened thread through the victims flesh, sowing his own skin into the draped streamers of his lower and larger intestines, creating a hung, two-dimensional corpse from the organs. The bodice of her victims drips with a methodical pit-pat, his sanguine life-source slowly pooling before the grand gates. She laughs hollowly, reaching back into her bag, pulling the final touch. Stitched together, his organs are a giant ball, covered in messy and sloppy purple ink and dark thread, representing a new organ. The detached organs pulled and molded into the form of a 'valentines' heart. She pins this to the victims chest, using a wooden rod. The cadaver, strung up onto his own intestines, is deflated, the disturbing conglomeration of his remaining organs stabbed and pinned onto his chest, drips dark blood from the gates, the only remnants of Yorae ever being there are footprints of blood leading to the left of the gates, into the water. ~

[Shadeleaf 1022]

Arzota walks slowly to the city, grass crunching under his feet as he does, the slight smell of death in the air, alerting his senses just a bit. As he nears he begins to make out the shape, nothing at first advancing at a normal pace to the gate, but stopping instantly in his tracks 20 meters from the gate, his suspicions confirmed. As Arzota eyes the "Artwork" he catches a figure leaving out of the corner of his eye, too shocked to even notice it he walks closer, face warped in disgust as others draw near. "Who the Nether did this." he exclaims breathlessly, his voice but a whips.

[balluffip 35]

Sathoro just walks by, in too much of a hurry to notice anything.

[dandan1350 479]

Moved to the Great Library. It shall be sorted into appropriate category shortly.