The Resuscitation|Athrug
Sept 21, 2007 18:00:25 GMT -5
Post by Kender Bard on Sept 21, 2007 18:00:25 GMT -5
The wind howled mournfully as it whistled over the ruins of Taed’s temple. Though some of the priests of Efil, while they left the desolation behind them, mused that this was a poetic and fitting end to the religion of death, the barren landscape seemed to disagree. Rain fell in heavy sheets over a terrain that had not felt the cool kiss of moisture in years. The water mingled with the rusty red dirt and sand to give the area a look like that of some great, gaping wound, still oozing lifeblood.
The murky skies grew darker. No light touched this sacred ground. The twilight of death lay thickly here, a velvet blanket of utter dark. The wind continued its solo elegy until a second voice began to mingle with it, turning the lamentation into a duet. Keening as the higher notes of the whistling breeze, the voice took on a decidedly feminine tone. It was a song with only vowels, but still it spoke volumes.
AaaaaaaaAAAaaaaAAAAAAHH!!!
The song suddenly twisted into a cacophony as the female voice’s pitch rose to that of a shriek. It started to take on a tangible form, though as corporeal as the mist that blanketed the muddy ground. The wind stopped singing and instead rushed to its counterpoint. The gusts enveloped the twisting, misty figure, embracing it like a parent or a friend. Its thrashings slowed and its shrieks of agony died down until the entire personage took on a more mortal form. Standing as proud as in life, Thessa looked around with spectral eyes at the destruction that surrounded her.
“Master,” she said, voice wavering as it echoed from behind the veil of the Afterlife. “Your home…”
The winds moved away from her and drifted towards a few dunes of bloody sand, picking up the particles and swirling around until in a vaguely humanoid shape itself. Thessa lowered herself to what would have been a kneel had her body from the knees down manifested itself.
The insubstantial form wavered for a moment. Thunder rolled and spoke, “Now.” Then the form was gone and Thessa was left alone in eerie silence. She rose and glanced around again. Slowly, she raised up both hands and spread her misty fingers, moving them around, as if feeling for something.
“Yes,” she whispered quietly. “I can see them. Sense them. Your army, my Master. I should have known…” Looking up, she floated higher in the air, hovering over the wreckage of the temple from a vantage that, had it still been standing, would have been from the topmost altar. “Soldiers of Taed, you are being called to arms!”
Her voice carried, high and piercing. Commanding. The ground rumbled in response, then shivered. “I call forth you, first wave! You will be the forefront of our assault.”
Slowly, the sands and earth began to shift and move. Small bumps, hundreds of them, formed and swelled, like putrid pustules on the face of the earth itself. Limbs thrust themselves from the ground, seeking purchase, and began to pull forth bodies after them. Almost all of them were skeletons, having been left in eternal repose for so long, but a few still retained a shredded semblance of what their mortal appearance was once. Once upon a time, they had been the Fires and Storms of an age long past gone by. Bitter rivals in life, they now stood side by side. In death, they had become brothers in arms.
In other places, small swirling bits of mist collected and formed much closer likeness; ghostly figures, much like Thessa, but none radiating the pure malevolence and power that she did.
Out of the darkness crept a handful of very special ‘soldiers’ of Taed. These creatures were almost perfect correspondence of their living selves, aside from their deathly pallor. When they looked up at their commanding mistress they gave hissing tribute to her and to whom she represented, baring their fangs in supplication, begging for her to slake their burning thirsts.
Once assembled they stood, waiting, patient.
Thessa looked down at them and felt something akin to pride. “Look at our home, my brethren! Look at what the living have done to our beds, our resting places. They have torn down our House in an unjust cause, drunk on the vitality that is living. Now that they have awoken us, let them taste our displeasure! Forward! Onward! Go, and clutch away the gift of life from them. Steal the breath from their lips, the blood from their veins.” Still, silence, but all stood at complete attention.
Thessa narrowed her eyes. “I will continue to call to our kin, so that you will not be alone in our revenge. Spare no one but those that serve us faithfully.”
Their orders given, the dead turned and headed out to fulfill the word of their mistress, and the will of their Force.
The murky skies grew darker. No light touched this sacred ground. The twilight of death lay thickly here, a velvet blanket of utter dark. The wind continued its solo elegy until a second voice began to mingle with it, turning the lamentation into a duet. Keening as the higher notes of the whistling breeze, the voice took on a decidedly feminine tone. It was a song with only vowels, but still it spoke volumes.
AaaaaaaaAAAaaaaAAAAAAHH!!!
The song suddenly twisted into a cacophony as the female voice’s pitch rose to that of a shriek. It started to take on a tangible form, though as corporeal as the mist that blanketed the muddy ground. The wind stopped singing and instead rushed to its counterpoint. The gusts enveloped the twisting, misty figure, embracing it like a parent or a friend. Its thrashings slowed and its shrieks of agony died down until the entire personage took on a more mortal form. Standing as proud as in life, Thessa looked around with spectral eyes at the destruction that surrounded her.
“Master,” she said, voice wavering as it echoed from behind the veil of the Afterlife. “Your home…”
The winds moved away from her and drifted towards a few dunes of bloody sand, picking up the particles and swirling around until in a vaguely humanoid shape itself. Thessa lowered herself to what would have been a kneel had her body from the knees down manifested itself.
The insubstantial form wavered for a moment. Thunder rolled and spoke, “Now.” Then the form was gone and Thessa was left alone in eerie silence. She rose and glanced around again. Slowly, she raised up both hands and spread her misty fingers, moving them around, as if feeling for something.
“Yes,” she whispered quietly. “I can see them. Sense them. Your army, my Master. I should have known…” Looking up, she floated higher in the air, hovering over the wreckage of the temple from a vantage that, had it still been standing, would have been from the topmost altar. “Soldiers of Taed, you are being called to arms!”
Her voice carried, high and piercing. Commanding. The ground rumbled in response, then shivered. “I call forth you, first wave! You will be the forefront of our assault.”
Slowly, the sands and earth began to shift and move. Small bumps, hundreds of them, formed and swelled, like putrid pustules on the face of the earth itself. Limbs thrust themselves from the ground, seeking purchase, and began to pull forth bodies after them. Almost all of them were skeletons, having been left in eternal repose for so long, but a few still retained a shredded semblance of what their mortal appearance was once. Once upon a time, they had been the Fires and Storms of an age long past gone by. Bitter rivals in life, they now stood side by side. In death, they had become brothers in arms.
In other places, small swirling bits of mist collected and formed much closer likeness; ghostly figures, much like Thessa, but none radiating the pure malevolence and power that she did.
Out of the darkness crept a handful of very special ‘soldiers’ of Taed. These creatures were almost perfect correspondence of their living selves, aside from their deathly pallor. When they looked up at their commanding mistress they gave hissing tribute to her and to whom she represented, baring their fangs in supplication, begging for her to slake their burning thirsts.
Once assembled they stood, waiting, patient.
Thessa looked down at them and felt something akin to pride. “Look at our home, my brethren! Look at what the living have done to our beds, our resting places. They have torn down our House in an unjust cause, drunk on the vitality that is living. Now that they have awoken us, let them taste our displeasure! Forward! Onward! Go, and clutch away the gift of life from them. Steal the breath from their lips, the blood from their veins.” Still, silence, but all stood at complete attention.
Thessa narrowed her eyes. “I will continue to call to our kin, so that you will not be alone in our revenge. Spare no one but those that serve us faithfully.”
Their orders given, the dead turned and headed out to fulfill the word of their mistress, and the will of their Force.
