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Pilgrimage [M]; Possible mature content warning!
Topic Started: Jun 8 2010, 02:24 AM (322 Views)
Hobo
Children of the desert, take heart, for those who are strong shall survive. The void shines its wicked grin upon thee.
Do not cower, for it will bring only those who wish to feast upon you.
Do not give, for others will take till none is left.
Do not bow, for the other always holds a knife
Do not break, or you shall lose my favor.

-Hymn 5 Verse 2 Book of the Void


As the sky became an inky black the tan-white sand that stretched for miles under his gaze became a milky white. Like a sea of souls the dunes reaching up for the unforgiving lights in the sky. Leering down upon them and watching them suffer as they glittered mirthfully. He smiled up at them the Void did. He smiled up at them knowing that the inky blackness that held them together in the sky was their truth. The wretchedness that filled this despicable existence. The Void smiled upon him, he knew the Void did. Why would he not? He whispered to him when he prayed. He spoke to him when he killed, he applauded him when he stole, and he cheered him when he won. He was his priest, his avatar, his hand in Aria. He felt the darkness wrapping around his soul and clinging tightly, desperately. Heartless, aching, screaming.

Emon's ebon gaze swept over the pearly white sand as he heard the sound of horses approaching. The heavy black cloak wrapped tightly around him. The wind kicked up and blew the hood back, his white hair flying up against the black sky. His pale skin and black eyes made him look like a ghost on the horizon. On his face a tattoo stretched across nose and under each eye, two lines stretched from the bottom of each eye to his forehead. More tattoos ran down his neck and to his arms. His brands, his badges of service to his dark god. Tonight, he would pray.

Emon sneered wickedly to himself as he saw the approaching horses, a small caravan, from the looks of it only two guards. The rest were weak peasantfolk. The type that could not defend themselves, the type that deserved to die. They had a choice, they chose this fate, he was simply the hand to deliver them. He didn't turn his head but spoke to the wind. "Drake." Emon rasped quietly, the icy chill of his voice carrying only the few feet needed for his brother to hear him nearby. "The living come to die." He whispered in his cold, gravelly voice.

Drake, his younger brother, was a titan of a man. He had always appreciated his brothers tremendous strength and it always came in handy in this sort of situation. Drake was usually more than happy to kill the guards defending the caravan, whilst Emon dealt with those within. Emon was always the first to admit it, he wasn't as strong as his brother, oh most certainly not. Physically he was puny, but his mind was powerful, and his elegance and swift prescience with a blade made up for his lack of physical strength. The horses drew closer, Emon sneered wickedly again.

"I smell fear." He rasped and mentally recited a prayer.

Fear the Void, for he is unforgiving.
Fear the Void, for he is death,
Fear the Void, for he is corruption,
Fear the Void, for he is truth,
Fear is the Truth of Life
Edited by Hobo, Jun 8 2010, 03:36 AM.
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Max
I hate it when we sit around like this, but Emon loved sitting around in the desert and doing nothing for hours until something happened. Maybe he had something with this Void thing, I don’t know. I’ll stick with trusting my blade and my body. They have never failed me, and I’ve known the gods to fail me numerous times. Emon always had a way with words to make things sound truly intriguing and evil and despicable. Some people might not like that, but I do. It was getting dark finally, I love it when it’s dark, the damn light is so bright and the dark lets me sneak up on people and cut them down.

"Drake. The living come to die.”

When my brother says that I smile, I love the fools who come to be slaughtered by my blade. Sometimes I swear I can hear it whisper joy when I kill but then realize it’s just the wind and the dying breaths of the fools who got in my way.
“About fucking time Emon, we’ve been out here for hours I could have been killing in Hope. I want that damn telekinetic’s head to hang from my belt and you know that.”

I stand up from sitting in the sand and grasp my blade that is buried in the sand beside me and smile. My white eyes begin to shine with the star’s lights and I pull my hood back. I see the caravan approaching and saw the two guards on the horses with the caravan. I knew the deal, I got to deal with the guards, probably two bit pay by the hour mercenaries who have never gotten a lick of combat experience. Emon would deal with the helpless peasants. I was fine with that, no fun in killing helpless people, even though these guards looked like they were little better.
“Yeah well I smell a fucking good time.”

With that, I roar and charge the caravan as it approaches. I leap into the air and grab the head of one guard and flip him onto the ground. Even with the pliable sand, I hear his back pop. What a weakling I think as I stomp on his head, crushing it beneath my boot. I turn around to see the other guard already on the ground, a sword and shield in his hands and I began to laugh. I continue to laugh as I spin and feel my blade enter into the guard’s flesh, ripping his leg off and the man falls to the ground.

“Looks like you were a shitty ass guard. I guess I’ll grant you the death I wasn’t. Rest easy, shithead.”

With that, I lift my blade up and slam it into the dying man’s chest, killing him. The sheer weight of my weapon probably crushed his chest. The two horses were standing to the side, and they look like fine specimens. I grab their reins and lead them to the back of the caravan, where Emon would be at work with the peasants. Perhaps he’ll want a horse; it’d probably serve his ‘High Prophet of Void’ bullshit if he has a horse to stand above others. I want one just so I don’t have to walk every fucking where.
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Hobo
Emon stood silently as his brother got to his feet. He watched with a dispassionate gaze as his brother hefted his massive blade onto his shoulders and lept forth, crashing into one guard and killing him nigh-instantly. The sneer on his face faded to a calm smirk as he began to stride forward quietly. His pace never changing from the casual stride. The wind picked up again and blew at his cloak, revealing the brands running up and down his arms, just as the sickening pop of the first guard's back echoed in the emptiness. Emon heard the bloodcurdling screams of terror from inside of the small caravan. The beast of burden at its head shifted uneasily as he drew close, nearly bolting as he made eye contact with the beast.

He stepped around back and an adult male had already stepped out. He was taller than Emon, and larger too with muscle mass. He brandished a dagger at him. "What do you want with us?" He asked, his hand shaking. Emon nearly burst out laughing, the man hardly knew how to hold a dagger. His ebon gaze rested upon the poor man for a brief moment. "Deliverance." was Emon's reply. He drew his sword quickly and cut the man's throat. The man dropped to his knees in a pool of his own blood. A woman shrieked and began to sob. Emon kicked over the body, the dagger the man held had snapped under his own weight. He had nothing of value left.

Emon climbed into the small carriage, looking at the men, women and children inside. There were four women. Two men, and three children to be exact. One was a young girl. Emon sneered at the youthful female and made his way further through the cart. One of the men shifted uneasily, Emon turned to him and eyed him carefully. The look in his eyes told him that he was a man with nothing left to lose. He was desperate and he had just made a rather rash decision. Emon turned his blade in his hand, and pointed the tip at the little girl's throat. "Don't waste my time." Emon rasped coldly, the man froze in horror and looked up at him, all the fight gone from his eyes.

Emon smiled, so did the man. Perhaps the man thought that there was enough humanity in Emon to spare the little girl's life. Perhaps. Emon glanced around the room. One of the other women was far more attractive, and she looked like she hadn't been utilized by a male yet. He turned to the girl and knelt down. "Poor child..." He whispered, stroking the little girl's hair. "What wretched fate has brought you to live in such a horrible place?" His voice cracked a bit as he whispered, the blood draining from the faces of those around him. "I will... spare you..." He began, and the man behind him sighed with relief. "...a fate of living alone in this wilderness..." He finished.

"NO!" The man shrieked in horror as Emon slid his sword between the child's ribs. He stood and whipped his blade, the blood splattering across the man's face. The man was in shock, he shook his head. "Weak." He hissed and slit the man's throat. He proceeded down the cart, killing all but the beautiful untouched woman. The blood of her friends and family staining her dress. He strode to her as he finished his work, dropping quietly to his knees and wrapping his arms around her. "They will no longer have to suffer..." He whispered cooly. He turned to the opening in the back of the cart. "Drake, move these corpses, there is food and supplies in this cart. We also have a toy for the evening." He laughed, stepping out of the cart and admiring the horses his brother had brought.
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Max
I walked around the corner of the caravan in time to see Emon step out and take the reins from him. It seemed like he had done his work on these people, and of course left one alive. Emon was not one to let a pretty lady die, at least not until after he used and abused her. Food and supplies were good though, at the thought of food, my stomach began to grumble. Yeah, food was a good thing. Killing always made me hungry. I jumped up into the caravan and grabbed the first body, a big guy, mostly fat though. I hate fat people, they’re always such a pain to throw out.

“You know, Emon, at least you didn’t keep the little girl as your fuck toy this time, and she’s all yours, the sand is sticking to my damn sword cause the blood, so I get to spend tonight cleaning the piece of shit off.”

As I spoke, I hurled the fat corpse off the caravan, after him the others seemed light and easy to carry. Soon it was empty and I turned around inside, looking at all the supplies inside. Hell I won’t have to kill again for a month with all this. We can live like fucking kings with all this shit.

“You really need all this miss fuck toy?” I jumped down and grabbed her chin with my gloved hand, “I hope you enjoy your time with my brother. He gets so upset when you fuck toys don’t perform to his expectations, and then I get to deal with his moody bitching while you get to die. Either way you die, so can you save me the bitching? Good girl.” I patted her on the head before turning and heading over to Emon.

“We got enough shit to last a month Emon, a fucking month. And the damned guards weren’t even a hassle. I didn’t even break a sweat.” I grabbed the horse reins and tied one of them to the back of the caravan before mounting the other. “Alright you’re driving the caravan since I had to take out the bodies. You know, how the hell did you end up so little and me so fucking big if we had the same parents?”

Turning to the survivor, “Oh miss fuck toy! Get in the back of the caravan will you? Thank you doll.”

“But as I was saying Emon, what’s with that? Was momma raped by a big man and we’re only half brothers? Wouldn’t put it past her, that whore was never home with us. Hell daddy wasn’t ever home either, probably out fucking other whores while momma made money on her back.”

I readied the horse; it was a massive creature, standing about seven feet in the air, and was trained for war, even if its old rider wasn’t. I liked it; I decided to name it Chaos because I just felt like it. I’m not like those bleeding hearts who name animals because it means something. I do things because I want to.
Edited by Max, Jun 10 2010, 03:02 AM.
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Hobo
Emon smirked at his brother, his black velvet eyes surveying the surroundings. There was no sign of any approaching foes. The supplies would certainly last them at least a month. He laughed when his brother brought up the last 'toy' he had dragged along with him. "What can I say?" He rasped as the woman in the caravan peaked her head out just slightly to listen in. "I like my meals fresh..." He hissed, eying her with a predatory hunger. She whimpered and crawled back into the cart, cowering against one of the cleaner spots in the blood drenched vehicle. Emon shook his head at his brother. "You ought to be more efficient with your weapon." He began, walking up to the front end of the cart. "Its difficult to replace weapons like that." He said.

He silently climbed up on top of the caravan, walking silently, like a ghost. His footfalls hardly making a sound. He sat on the cushion where the reins of the bull creature lay. He took them up and whipped them harshly, urging the creature forward. The white sand around them kicking up as a foreboding wind blew. He smiled wickedly. "Brother..." He hissed. "A wicked wind blows." He laughed out loud, his pronounced canines glittering in the ambient light. Just feet away the woman in the cart shuddered and sobbed as she sat in the pool of blood, all that remained of those she once loved. That is how it should be, the weak suffer, the strong survive, it is the law of the world.

Emon mused over his brothers words. "I'm not exactly sure. It is possible, though I'd prefer to think we are cut from the same loins, so to speak." He said finally, leaning back a bit as they continued to trek north west of their position. The pair had a small cave at the peak of a larger rock outcropping in the desert. The arid stone and unforgiving heat that beat upon the rocks deterred only but the most insane attackers. Inside it was cool, and actually rather humid thanks to a small spring of water that bubbled up from beneath the ground. Emon had no idea how long the spring had been there, he honestly didn't care. The fact that he had found it was a sign from the Void.

They came to a stop in front of the outcropping as the sun began to rise again. Soon it would be out and the heat would be unbearable. He urged the beast of burden forward marching it up the steep rocky slope that lead to their cavern. When the large wheeled box of a caravan slipped into the cave easily Emon sighed with relief, he was worried it wouldn't fit. He'd hate to leave it outside and thus attract unwanted attention. When they came to a stop he got off and tied down the beast of burden. The creature smelt awful, though he could imagine how good it would taste cooked. Assisting his brother with moving their new supplies to a proper location, he began to formulate their next course of action.

Perhaps they should visit Hope for a spell, take some time off their lives in the wilderness and splurge a little. The Void approved of that. He glanced over. "Tomorrow we go to Hope, clean your weapon." He said, standing up. As he did he remembered his other prize for the evening. "If you'll excuse me." He said, and crawled into the cart.
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I scouted ahead as my brother drove the cart back to our cave. This horse was a good beast; it listened to commands well and was strong and swift. I liked it; perhaps I would keep it alive and let it serve me for a while. That is unless I grow bored with it. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll take better fucking care of my weapon when I fight someone who requires some talent instead of these damn no bit guards.” Racing ahead because I wasn’t hindered by the large ass cart and had this powerful beast underneath me I reached the spring and cave that was our home before Emon did. I jumped off the horse and led Hatred to drink from the spring as the light began to peek over the horizon. Fucking hell, it was already time for it to get hotter than the devil’s ass.

When my brother arrived I had already finished watering Chaos and had him tied up inside the cave near my bedding. The cave was simple. It was a large hole in the rock that was shady so a little cooler than the rest of the desert. Inside we had it more homely, with bedding and crates, and now a large wagon that held more supplies. “Hope? Well about damn time, I’ve been waiting to see those weak little bitches and show them what a real man is. They probably forgot.” With that, I grab my weapon and lay it across my lap. It was a beautiful piece of work, made as the last work of a master blacksmith. It was his last work because I killed him with it, but that doesn’t matter. The blade was made of iron and had the image of screaming souls trapped within it. It suited him, for he did create many screaming souls to send to his brother’s Void as playthings. Right now though, it was covered in sand and blood, so I grabbed the rag next to me and began to wipe the blade off.

While I was cleaning I began to hear screams from the wagon, “Can ya keep it down Emon? You’re scaring the horses!” With that I smiled and returned to my blade, it wasn’t really bothering the horses, and it sounded like she was enjoying herself, there were some people who enjoyed the pain so much they got off on it, strange people, who likes getting hurt? While cleaning my blade I began to whisper a line, Emon would probably call it a prayer, but the only things I pray to be myself and my blade. "May my blade bring Death. May my hand bring Chaos. May my mind bring Destruction."

When I finished cleaning my blade I put it in its sheath. The sheath was a large piece of leather made from an ox that they had killed years ago. When it was safely away, I stood and stripped out of my armor and clothing, staying in only my trousers and laid down on my bedding, ready for some sleep. A few licks of sleep while Emon had his way with his fuck toy was good for me, and then a fun trip to Hope where he could terrorize some of the weak people that lived there, so weak that they practically gave away their supplies and tried to establish a society to create order in a chaotic land.
Edited by Max, Jun 10 2010, 03:02 AM.
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Bodies grinding together. A bead of sweat streaming down a brow. A pair of ebon eyes gazing in the darkness. Movement, screams of pain, laughs and sighs. She was broken, her spirit was, she had watched her parents die, her friends die, her siblings die. Yet she still had enough for this. Emon found himself intrigued. She was weak, she deserved a cold, merciless death. And yet he found himself desiring of her. It was an odd mix of emotions that boiled over as he finished with her. Minutes later he was dressed and he had thrown her clothing to her. "You will live." He said. "And serve me." He concluded, running a hand through his white hair. He turned away, stepping out of the cart and onto the rocky floor of their camp. Drake had fallen asleep.

"Drake." Emon called, walking over to him. "We will be leaving shortly." He rasped, sitting down next to his brother and grabbing a satchel of jerky from the box of supplies. He bit into the tasty strip and tore off a piece, chewing slowly. His ebon eyes staring off into the distance, lost in thought. He would keep her, but what would he do with her? He supposed he would keep her as his woman, for nights when he was cold. Then again, he was curious to see if she would try to kill him, or if that there was any spirit left in her at all. He sneered at the wall and turned to Drake. "I'm keeping her." He hissed.

Emon got to his feet and began to move about the camp, picking up equipment and grabbing his cloak. His dark eyes trailed over the horses they had stolen. One already had a saddle. He smirked and waled do the other. "What should I call you, wretched beast?" He whispered, placing a hand and stroking its black coat. A pair of blood red eyes greeted him as it turned its head and snorted. It locked eyes with him for a long moment. "You do not fear me?" He rasped as the other horse began to shuffle about. He smiled softly, stroking the animal. "Truly a spirited beast... I shall call you Gheist." He hissed.

The Prophet of Void turned to his brother. "Come, the woman will not dare leave, the sun will kill her, and as long as she stays she will be safe." He said aloud, more to the woman than to his sibling. He smirked and said a prayer to himself.

"Woe to you wretched ones, woe to you, step not out into the sun's morn, step not out into the blaze, only the great may travel the burning sands..."

Emon tugged a saddle onto Gheist and pulled the strap tight. He locked it and climbed on top. "Come." He said, and began to move toward the cave exit.
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Dreams were magical things. They brought fantasy to life and exposed the greatest fears of the dreamer. Today Drake was floating in nothingness. He was in a different outfit than he was used to. His Cloak was majestic and draped down to his feet, the hood was pulled up and his brand glowed with a red light and his eyes had a white light glowing. On his back his sword was strapped and his body was covered in an ornate suit of armor. His gauntlets were large, his left hand’s gauntlet was larger than his right and his body felt as if it was perfect.

Voices entered the nothingness, all of them speaking the same thing and all appearing from every direction. “Welcome to the Void young one. We have been with your brother for years; it is time for you to enter into our service. Your brother is a perfect prophet of ours; you shall join him in his service to us.”

“Aye, you fucking darkness. I can serve you just fucking fine. Give me a job, and I’ll get it fucking done.”

“Well then, Disrespectful One, you can start by following your brother. As you have been doing, when I need you, your brother will speak to you.”

“Oh fucking great, I get to listen to my brother for more.”

“Before you go, know that you are Wrath and Strength, and you will bring our Chaos to Aria. Now go Forgotten One, your brother is calling.”


Suddenly, I awoke; standing above me was my brother. His eyes seemed like they were piercing into my soul. “Have fun with your fuck toy?” I jumped to my feet, my mind still analyzing what I had dreamt. “Brother, I spoke with Void; he told me you’d give me tasks from him. Guess you are meant to be the Prophet.”

I walked over to my horse, It eyes were flaring wildly and its mane was laying straight. “You know you piece of shit, you really are a magnificent specimen of your species.” I grabbed a saddle and placed it on the beast. The beast was a perfect mount for me, it would be the perfect instrument for me to bring pain and destruction to the world. I mounted the beast and patted its head gently. “Well Emon, are we going to go or are we going to sit here all day.”

I looked around, seeing that the girl was still alive, “Wait, why is she still alive. Since when have you kept the fuck toys around?” Before I could hear the answer I kicked my horse and sent it galloping out of the cave, heading towards Hope. Today, the denizens of Hope would remember what Fear was, what Pain was, what Death was, and most importantly, they would remember who I was. For I am Eraph, and I will be their downfall.
Edited by Max, Jun 10 2010, 02:59 AM.
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