Post by DM Pithirendar on Oct 6, 2011 19:03:34 GMT -5
Screams echoed through the Necropolis.
The dead were restless. Those that walked cowered as the frail woman walked amongst the graves.
She wailed as she dug up the dirt with her bare hands. Robbing the graves of bone and rotten flesh. Gut wrenching screams fuelled by betrayal and abandonment. How had it come to this?
She was losing control. That was unacceptable. One thing remained constant. Faith. She was ever faithful. Her mind drifted to talk of chains and she smiled a humourless smile. “In the end all I have left is the chains. You were wrong. The chains won't ever betray me.”
One after the other their faces flashed before her eyes. All dead, they just didn't know it yet. The good along with the bad. They had all left her just the same, no matter their morality. She must prepare. Pray. Experiment.
Weak. The thought sickened her but that was exactly what she had become. She would not be defeated. No matter what the cost. The travel would be long and arduous but she would find what she was looking for. Beat him at his own game. She could feel the power of the Vaunted flow through her. Pulsing through the life within her. She felt its call. The twilight.
Slowly she lowered herself into the open grave. Taking up the screams once more. The mindless wailed with her and the others stayed deep within their catacombs.
As she lay there in the black of night, covered in dirt and rotten flesh, all she could think of was them. She would come for them all. By the end, all would know her name. Allyson Black. The living and the dead will all tremble, even with the smallest whisper in the winds.
“I am a forest, and a night of dark trees: but he who is not afraid of my darkness, will find banks full of roses under my cypresses.” ― Friedrich Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra