Frivolous

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Hydrolisk
Keeper of the Keys
Posts: 408
Joined: Mon Feb 25, 2008 2:25 am
Location: Canada

Frivolous

Post by Hydrolisk » Sun Nov 23, 2008 5:56 am

[button=Warning]Violence, gore, and suggestive content.[/button]
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Story

A company of thirty men and women stood in the fog, their breaths condensing instantly in the cold of the Arctic. They were dressed in heavy fur coats, and they were encased within suits of armour made of steel. Chain mail clinked unrhythmically. The soldiers' eyes darted here and there, peering outwards of the tight-knit blob they formed warily like hunted dogs. Fear ran high upon the wind, sweat diffusing from the pores of the soldiers' skin. The Arctic air was cold, but primal instincts heated their bodies. Swords, axes, spears, bows, and many other weapons made their respective clingings and strainings, paradigms of what their wielders' fears really were.
. And all around them, bodies still bled.

It started an hour after everybody but the first shift of watchmen were fitfully asleep in their woollen tents. There was a blood curdling scream, and then everybody of the fifty-strong company was awake and alert. Throughout the night, more and more disappeared with greater frequncy, as if a predator was at first uncertain of its prey, and now it was more familiar with its play things.
. Now, an hour past midnight, there were only thirty left. Pools of blood flowed viscously along the permafrosted earth, unable to soak through the frozen dirt. Bodies of the slain were piled up upon each other, forming a circular barricade around the remaining men and women of the Hollowed Order who thought of themselves safe in the cold of the pole.
. It really shouldn't have all gone this way though. This world's Arctic was destitute of life and was totally isolated. This elite band of warriors came to sabotage a strategic outpost of Baneites, allowing a full attack force of Hollowed soldiers to suffer fewer casualties. But now that twenty were already dead, their self-confidence had been weathered to nothing indiscriminately.
. Now, there was only the dead and the walking dead.

The hairs on the necks of the Hollowed soldiers stood up on end. Someone was going to die. There was no defence except for luck; the dense fog rendered visibility to a mere thirteen metres. That number was shrinking. As was the number of the beating hearts.
. The little light the full moon above shone permeated through this fog almost perfectly, and the light glanced off of something in the air, twenty metres away from the company.
. Whirr. Hiss. The sickening sound of flesh being cut. Drip. Thump. Drip. Twenty-nine were left standing.

Thedin drew ragged breaths at an accelerated rate. There were only twenty left alive. Another was going to die; you could feel it in the air.
. Unfortunately, Thedin saw it this time. A man beside him screamed, and Thedin looked out into the fog. An iron cross of sorts, rusted and heavy, flew through the air ephemerally, hissing as it traversed its perfect trajectory and decapitating the man beside him. The bloodied cross seemed to stay still for a moment, the cleaved human head lying atop it, mouth agape and eyes completely white in an insidious fashion. Within that fraction of time, Thedin saw a year's worth of examination and findings of details in the iron weapon. It was made of a cross of four extensions of equal length, with serrated arrows pointing outwards like a compass'. It was intercepted in the fashion of an X, and those extensions were also the same length as the crosses with the same arrows. It looked like the addition and multiplication operation symbols placed overtop one another. It was deadly, and it was what was cleaving the soldiers into unimaginable shapes ad fractions.
. The iron weapon flew, and the decapitated soldier's corpse fell, blood fountaining outwards, pumped out by its own beating heart. The sight almost obliterated Thedin's mind, and his eyes were opened to their fullest. Despair raped his other emotions indifferently.

How in Hell could you fight something invisible? There was no fighting back!
. Only five were left standing now, including Thedin; unfortunately. Since the beginning of this nightmare, ten men and women who thought themselves to be bold had rushed out of the protection of the group and into the mist, only to warn the rest moments later with tortured screams and beggings accompanied by the sound of slicing hunks of meat. Often enough, bits of their bodies would roll back through the puddles of snow and over frozen ground, severely obfuscated by innumerate lacerations. Fear was not evanescent; it was permanently burned into the men and women's minds.
. "Oh, Chaplain, save me, save me!" screamed one of the women. The hairs ad goosebumps had returned.
. The armoured woman, holding a shield and a vicious-looking whip ran out of the group, outwards but along Thedin's line of sight.
. "Damn it, don't ru-" shouted Thedin hoarsely, his throat unused for the past few hours. He couldn't finish.
. When the woman was only about three metres away from the group and slightly hidden in the growing fog, the unseen struck again.
. The iron cross-X flew horizontally relative to Thedin's field of view, bisecting it at where the woman was who frivolously tried to escape the inevitable. The flying death snarled as it lopped off the woman's left arm, removing her shield too. She screamed and crimson life manifested in the air. A fine red mist diffused the air and the woman shrieked in pain.
. "Have mercy on me, ah..." she cried, tears and blood smudging her grimy face, sobbing pathetically. The iron cross flew on and into the mist, prejudiced only to the chosen, but it seemed as if the woman might survive, unless she died of blood loss.
. Seconds later, just as Thedin opened his mouth to suggest having the group move together to where the woman was somehow managing to stand as she thanked the gods and Astelan, the iron cross came again. This time, it flew from somewhere behind Thedin.
. The iron cross twirled and danced as if had a mind of its own around the group toward the crying woman. It penetrated her back and spine with a nauseating crunch and squish, through her rib cage and her breasts before flying away, its whine growing faint. The force of the impact wrenched the air from the woman's lungs and she didn't have any breath left to scream or grunt. She took a gulp of air as she was carried out of sight by the iron cross's momentum.
. Immediately, the woman screamed unnaturally. It was not sorrow, and maybe pain was within it, but pleasure clearly resonated within the haunting scream. The sound was repeated, growing weaker from loss of energy, but it crescendoed to full force in outright life-ending pain laced with the pleasure of a masochist; what sickened Thedin was the provocativeness of the woman's last cries. Despite all the fear stabbing into his heart and eviscerating him, it taunted Thedin with its pleasure and lust.
. Self-disgust shielded him from fright, and the hate grew when he realized that the other three were spared of the effects the suggestive cries. The woman's masochistic shrieks cursed Thedin.
. It was then that the hairs rose and the goosebumps formed.
. The man who was back to back with Thedin was decapitated by the iron cross-X. Its signature whoosh was like the sound of the guillotine's falling blade; someone was to die when it was heard, like a banshee's howls. The man's blood saturated Thedin, and a strange feeling started to heat up in the pit of his stomach. The blood was everywhere, and he felt invigorated, yet scared witless by the distinctive scent.
. As soon as the iron cross disappeared in the relentlessly closing-in fog, the same one whipped out from a perpendicular direction, cutting down one more man, leaving only Thedin and another man. The iron cross had curved toward the ground and had bounced up from the dirt with a clank and impaled the third last man in the stomach before defying the laws of the universe, sawing upwards through his skull and going back the way it came from, ejecting outwards from his face and travelling a large arc. Instantly, the third last man's entire volume of blood inundated Thedin's orifices and pores. The penultimate man was stricken with grief, drenched in the hot, crimson blood. Bits of the dead man's body and insides laid on top of the other man's armour. Thedin was plunged just as much into the deathly nightmare.
. But something was wrong. No, something was right. The sticky viscous blood was right. It dripped off of Thedin's armour, freezing as it did so, accenting it with frozen red crystals. It felt good, the cold air and the liquid blanket of warmth. The contrasts were marvellous and Thedin could feel every little infinitesimally small bit of himself. It was glorious, and he had to rent more of it. It was ecstatic and addictive!
. It was... Euphoric.

Without thinking, Thedin instinctively outstretched his arm skyward as if being called upon by a primal force. The friendly hum of the whirring blades of the iron cross met Thedin's ears and he grinned win his teeth bared satirically. From where the iron cross came from did not matter; but to Thedin's bidding it came and this was no façade. He turned to the last soldier of the Hollowed Order's elite sabotage company who was whipping his head left and right, terrified. The man suddenly stopped and turned around, terror transforming into horror.
. He screamed into the teeth-filled grin of Thedin, pupils completely dilated in terror.

Thedin was taken over by sadism and brought down the cruelly serrated edges of the heavy, rusty iron cross mercilessly into the soldier's head, splitting it in two, pink and grey matter splashing outwards organically. Carried by sin, the iron cross of Chaos cleaved through the entire body as if wreathed in unholy flames, blood flowing freely forth endlessly from the two standing halves of the one corpse.

. It was frivolous to retaliate. To this day, the last two halves of the last man to die still stands, frozen by the cold of the Arctic and forced to bleed eternally by Chaos. Thedin descended into something less than a human, and ascended into something unalive; something immortal; something deathless.

Something... Frivolous to retaliate against.
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Feedback appreciated.
As a note, this was typed up from about 2AM to 4AM on a freaking iPod Touch. It is hard.
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