[???] Something Wicked
Sept 16, 2021 0:10:37 GMT -8
Post by The Hunger on Sept 16, 2021 0:10:37 GMT -8
Deep in the bowels of a forgotten catacomb, a cult of undeath weaved their mana into every stitch, every breath, every drop of putrefied blood. Their work was forbidden and unsanctified in the worst of ways. So putrid was the air, afoul with rot and the buzzing of insects, that not even the beasts of the shadows dared tread. Many of them had not yet died their first death, though they sought to make sure their first would be beautiful and perfect. This project sought to perfect life, so that their second would be their final. Unending. Unyielding. A pure and powerful immortality that would rival the gods.
Whether madness that puppeted their hands or the disease that clung to their bones, their desperation had its own way of steeling their wills. With focused minds they conducted their experiments in secret. Specialized spells hid their presence from prying eyes, keeping their forms shadowed as they worked and scavenged the materials for their projects. The first few had been complete failures, but with time promise began to show.
All they needed was more.
More blood, more bone, more flesh. A human mind caged in the skull of a great beast. The heart of a monster, powerful enough to hold the vast essence of multiple mages. A body made of muscle and strengthened with mana to carry it's weight. This beast, this prototype, would prove their hypothesis and more. A body capable of handling the mana and soul of a deity, and still capable of so much more growth. That was what they visualized. What they sought. What they craved. Their perfection. Their idol. A god of their own for them to worship.
Not a god of death, or of life, or even of undeath. But a god of immortality. Of ceaseless knowledge. And they would be it's keepers. It's perfection would be their perfection. It's lifespan left unending would provide them the knowledge to do the same unto themselves. To perfect their bodies so that they would be able to handle the divine rapture and bliss of a life without fear of death. Without fear of the unknown that was the afterlife.
Disease and rot would never touch their bones or muddy their flesh. They would be perfect too. No longer would they fear disease or mortal weaknesses. They would be demigods. No, they too would be gods. And their gifts, their blessings would make them idols for the world of Tir. Certainly, a new pantheon! Who had use for old gods who still died a single death? Who had use for gods who aged and grew decrepit and weak? Who had use for gods that could be touched and corrupted by decay? No, they were not gods! Those "Gods" were no better than mortals with a drawn out life span. These men and women were called heretics for their beliefs, but it wasn't their fault that they were the only ones who could see! They had the mana to weave life into the lungs of the dead. They could touch beyond the veil, pull back. Their wicked grins grew wide at their shared goal of perfect immortality. Nothing would touch them.
Nothing... NOTHING! Nothing... nothing...
...nothing...
...Nothing moved... Nothing spoke even a hushed whisper. Eyes were pale and lifeless, staring wide at the blood soaked ceiling. Bodies lay broken. Lungs no longer took in air. The first death would be the final one, left without another life. In a back room, something stirred. The choking air now dense and heavy with the metal tang of blood was filled anew with the sounds of a feast. Wild yellow eyes burned in their sockets. Unblinking as its teeth ripped open a still-warm corpse.
It's birth was unnatural. The world it knew was just the room it'd been given. And yet, with every bite it's maw was flooded with more. And more it ate. More it drank. It's single purpose in mind was that to feed. It knew nothing but to feed. It's body's purpose was to feed. What more could it want? A warm sheltered room and food to consume. It's mind was like a match. Flickering, barely lit.
As it's teeth sank into the head and bit through bone, the spark ignited the fire and it grew from a simple match to a full candle. It drank upon this new sensation, that of knowledge and purpose. The walls. The walls were small here, but they were so much bigger outside. How did it know that? Did it understand? The beast did not know, so it continue to feed. It wanted to know. It wanted to know what knowing meant, what knowledge meant. And besides, it's stomach still felt empty. It was so hungry. It needed more.
It tore into the next corpse ravenously and the flame grew. It knew emotion. It knew rage. It knew it was still hungry and it still wanted more. It wanted to know why it was still hungry. It lapped the blood pooling on the floor, it's dark tongue drawing it inwards. More. It needed more.
Flesh gave way to the succulent innards beneath and it consumed it all. The flame burned in it's mind, a candle wavering in the wind. It comprehended itself. It comprehended the room. It comprehended the bodies and understood that the altar was a two dimensional shape, and the corpse behind it was still there. Still waiting to be consumed. And it ate. Flesh, bones, mind and all. The candle flame steadied. The altar was not two dimensional, but infact it was three. The beast explored this knew discovery, climbing and clambering like a child. It's throat opened and closed, pushing out air in rapid succession. It knew joy. This was a joyous occasion. It did not know why it forced air out in such a way, but the act made the beast feel good. More joy, more air. The deep, guttural booming sound was like twisted laughter. But the laughter did not last.
It still hungered.
It still craved more.
After the fifth meal it understood what it meant to climb, to go higher and lower. After the sixth It remembered. After the seventh It understood what It remembered. It remembered that there was something behind the alter. It remembered hunger. It thought. It thought that if It found food behind one object, It could climb towards the barrier above. Behind it, It could find more food. And above all else, the one thing it knew for certain;
It was still hungry.
Whether madness that puppeted their hands or the disease that clung to their bones, their desperation had its own way of steeling their wills. With focused minds they conducted their experiments in secret. Specialized spells hid their presence from prying eyes, keeping their forms shadowed as they worked and scavenged the materials for their projects. The first few had been complete failures, but with time promise began to show.
All they needed was more.
More blood, more bone, more flesh. A human mind caged in the skull of a great beast. The heart of a monster, powerful enough to hold the vast essence of multiple mages. A body made of muscle and strengthened with mana to carry it's weight. This beast, this prototype, would prove their hypothesis and more. A body capable of handling the mana and soul of a deity, and still capable of so much more growth. That was what they visualized. What they sought. What they craved. Their perfection. Their idol. A god of their own for them to worship.
Not a god of death, or of life, or even of undeath. But a god of immortality. Of ceaseless knowledge. And they would be it's keepers. It's perfection would be their perfection. It's lifespan left unending would provide them the knowledge to do the same unto themselves. To perfect their bodies so that they would be able to handle the divine rapture and bliss of a life without fear of death. Without fear of the unknown that was the afterlife.
Disease and rot would never touch their bones or muddy their flesh. They would be perfect too. No longer would they fear disease or mortal weaknesses. They would be demigods. No, they too would be gods. And their gifts, their blessings would make them idols for the world of Tir. Certainly, a new pantheon! Who had use for old gods who still died a single death? Who had use for gods who aged and grew decrepit and weak? Who had use for gods that could be touched and corrupted by decay? No, they were not gods! Those "Gods" were no better than mortals with a drawn out life span. These men and women were called heretics for their beliefs, but it wasn't their fault that they were the only ones who could see! They had the mana to weave life into the lungs of the dead. They could touch beyond the veil, pull back. Their wicked grins grew wide at their shared goal of perfect immortality. Nothing would touch them.
Nothing... NOTHING! Nothing... nothing...
...nothing...
...Nothing moved... Nothing spoke even a hushed whisper. Eyes were pale and lifeless, staring wide at the blood soaked ceiling. Bodies lay broken. Lungs no longer took in air. The first death would be the final one, left without another life. In a back room, something stirred. The choking air now dense and heavy with the metal tang of blood was filled anew with the sounds of a feast. Wild yellow eyes burned in their sockets. Unblinking as its teeth ripped open a still-warm corpse.
It's birth was unnatural. The world it knew was just the room it'd been given. And yet, with every bite it's maw was flooded with more. And more it ate. More it drank. It's single purpose in mind was that to feed. It knew nothing but to feed. It's body's purpose was to feed. What more could it want? A warm sheltered room and food to consume. It's mind was like a match. Flickering, barely lit.
As it's teeth sank into the head and bit through bone, the spark ignited the fire and it grew from a simple match to a full candle. It drank upon this new sensation, that of knowledge and purpose. The walls. The walls were small here, but they were so much bigger outside. How did it know that? Did it understand? The beast did not know, so it continue to feed. It wanted to know. It wanted to know what knowing meant, what knowledge meant. And besides, it's stomach still felt empty. It was so hungry. It needed more.
It tore into the next corpse ravenously and the flame grew. It knew emotion. It knew rage. It knew it was still hungry and it still wanted more. It wanted to know why it was still hungry. It lapped the blood pooling on the floor, it's dark tongue drawing it inwards. More. It needed more.
Flesh gave way to the succulent innards beneath and it consumed it all. The flame burned in it's mind, a candle wavering in the wind. It comprehended itself. It comprehended the room. It comprehended the bodies and understood that the altar was a two dimensional shape, and the corpse behind it was still there. Still waiting to be consumed. And it ate. Flesh, bones, mind and all. The candle flame steadied. The altar was not two dimensional, but infact it was three. The beast explored this knew discovery, climbing and clambering like a child. It's throat opened and closed, pushing out air in rapid succession. It knew joy. This was a joyous occasion. It did not know why it forced air out in such a way, but the act made the beast feel good. More joy, more air. The deep, guttural booming sound was like twisted laughter. But the laughter did not last.
It still hungered.
It still craved more.
After the fifth meal it understood what it meant to climb, to go higher and lower. After the sixth It remembered. After the seventh It understood what It remembered. It remembered that there was something behind the alter. It remembered hunger. It thought. It thought that if It found food behind one object, It could climb towards the barrier above. Behind it, It could find more food. And above all else, the one thing it knew for certain;
It was still hungry.