The Sacrifice of Vatul to the Crimson Lord

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The Fulcrux of Fain.
A comforting feeling of privacy pervades the area. Piles of skulls and other crude and vile offerings are strewn about the black obsidian flooring, which shines with a pale sheen. A ring of half melted red candles encircle the shrine to the god Fain, glorifying His existence. The walls of this temple are flat and cold, and when the firelight hits them on occasion, shadows of unnameable terrors awaken within their murky depths. A swirling cloud of crimson mist hangs heavily over the area. Thick red mists swathe an altar of polished black marble, swirling rhythmically to the distant throb of a waltz. Glowing with an inner light, a jack-o-lantern depicting a demonic crucifix drives away nearby shadows.

You see the following people here:
Iosen, Iveseth, Avurekhos, Shaddus, Aedric, Vatul, Anita.

Avurekhos purses his lips pensively, gazing off into the distance as he carefully gathers his thoughts.

Vatul sweeps a graceful curtsey in the manifold drapes of her dark cloak, as the shake of carillon bells marks her appearance from the sordid mists.

As the sun passes below the horizon's edge, Mother Night unveils her terrible, shadowy beauty, spreading darkness across the land.

Iveseth's gaze does not turn away from the black marble of the altar, giving the melody of bells and swish of cloth none of her attention.

You have emoted: Twisting a snowy curl around a slender finger, Anita yawns, her gaze finding Avurekhos with curious eyes. "Will we bring more to witness, Warlord?"

Avurekhos speaks gruffly without making eye contact with you, "If they desire to witness something in honour of Our Lord, I will not deny them. Though I will not regard them."

(Magnagora): You say, "Citizens, if you so wish to attend, there will be a ritual of sacrifice to the Crimson Lord within His fulcrux. Come in silence."

The crimson mists swirl about you like tiny fingers grasping outwards, trying to pull you in.

(Magnagora): Avurekhos says, "You have a few moments before I start, let me know if you're coming."

Her dance-like form blazes with lavender flames licking about her form as Vatul crosses the threshold to the black altar. Her bare feet glide over skulls, and rotting flesh as the perfume of sensuous jasmine rises over the viscera. Mingling with its carnal bloodied mists, she lifts a pale hand and speaks with a cold, dark voice, "I have come in recompense to be Judged at the High Altar, in crimson death. Who is the Crimson One's most High Priest?" Such words echo about the fulcrux, the candles flickering wildly to the cacophony of her voice.

Avurekhos peers at Shaddus unscrupulously.

Shaddus crosses his arms expectantly.

Nightmare of the Glomdoring, Avurekhos Feyranti, Crimson Fist of Luciphage says, "For now, I shall act in place of the departed. Tools since discarded."

Endless whispers enter your mind, and you find yourself swarmed with their questions and requests.

Vatul bows her head in acknowledgement of Avurekhos, the cowl of her cloak whispering with silent wind.

Staring at you, Aedric licks his lips and goes 'mmmmmmmmm.'

Aedric grovels pathetically at your feet.

Iosen inclines his head politely to those around him.

Midnight shadows coalesce around a new day, and Mother Night embraces the land in utter darkness.
It is now the 21st of Shanthin, 515 years after the Coming of Estarra.

Aedric shrinks from the implacable gaze of Vatul.

Alabaster Eminence, Kalas Iosen, The Final Mountain says to Aedric, "Control yourself."

Shaddus cuffs Aedric upside his head.

Nightmare of the Glomdoring, Avurekhos Feyranti, Crimson Fist of Luciphage says, "We shall begin."

The invigorating aroma of dragonsblood hangs heavily around a nearby jack-o-lantern.

Avurekhos turns away from the crowd, approaching an altar, flanked by burning candles, he raises his arms apart from each other as he screams out loud, "MY LORD, WE ARE GATHERED HERE TODAY IN HONOUR OF YOU. A MAGGOT BENEATH YOUR GAZE SOUGHT TO SPEAK FOR YOU, SHE SHALL BE SILENCED. THROUGH RITUAL, CRIMSON DEATH." he begins to face the crowd again as he recites words gutturally, "HIS voice filled me like a welling of blood and thus HE commanded: GO FORTH AND SPILL FOR ME THEIR BLOOD." continuing, "LET RIVULETS FORM IN MY HONOUR." he turns to face you, "SEE, SEE, WHERE IT STREAMS IN THE FIRMAMENT."

Vatul bows her head as the screams of souls writhe from beneath her feet, all that can be seen is a brief shock of skin as pale as death.

You have emoted: The cacophonous ring of cracked bells fills the air as Anita tilts her head this way and that way, smouldering eyes regarding Vatul. Bare, her feet bring her to stand before the disgraced viscanti woman. She reaches up with a delicate bloodstained hand, wickedly sharp nails pressing to Vatul's cheek in an unnerving caress, "Kneel."

Vatul descends to one knee, unbent as she calmly gazes to the altar past the viscanti who declares her submission. Her visage veiled by shadow, there is not a sense of distress - merely a regal acceptance.

You have emoted: "I have seen the POWER of the CRIMSON LORD", Anita's voice intones, her other hand pressing to the viscanti woman's other cheek, both now cupping her face as if a lover, " I have seen the skies turn of BLOOD RED beneath HIS RAGE", and suddenly, the pointed tips of her thumbs are driving deep into Vatul's eyes, bright crimson blood spurting forth and splashing against her face. A malevolent smile curls up her stained lips, teeth bared as she hisses, "I have seen the CRIMSON LIGHTNING soar through the sky to smite down the HERETIC.", her thumbs press deeper, Vatul's face now a mask of blood. "And so you too shall SEE."

You have emoted: Anita withdraws her thumbs from the barren sockets, lifting one to her lips to taste of the blood before she lunges forward, grasping Vatul close, her voice hushed and breathless as she continues, "Find clarity in HIS crimson and beneath HIS eyes, find TRUTH. In HIS gaze, know your worth - Naught - and in SERVICE - Be unto HIM redeemed." Her lips capture Vatul's in a brazen kiss that draws blood from a nip, released then with a mad cackle of laughter as she pushes the woman away, turning to Avurekhos and bowing her head.

Avurekhos produces a mocking laugh before quickly clutching at his own neck firmly, tightly, gurgling as he spits saliva and blood into Vatul's face, he ceases to choke himself as he wipes off the spit from his mouth, screaming louder than before he continues, "FOR LIKE A THOUSAND HISSING NEEDLES WERE HIS WORDS, AND I WAS AFEARED." and then looks towards Iveseth, "GATHER THOSE WHO WOULD SERVE ME, GATHER THEM AS LAMBS TO BE LED TO THE SLAUGHTER. TO BE WITHOUT VOICE."

Vatul's pale skin is washed with sanguine as her empty eye sockets pool in tears of dark blood. With a deep, shakily inhale, she remains upright in her kneeling position. Tasting her own blood across her full lips, her rasping voice bubbles with a soft murmuring as she spits through bloodstained teeth, "May I be judged mercifully by HIS will! May His Hatred embrace me in HIS justice!" Her voice reverberates with force as its melody jangles without fear.

With a whisper of gauze and the sashaying of her hips, Iveseth's slow steps lead her to a position above the blinded Vatul. She drops to her knees before the other woman, capturing the contours of her face in much the same way you did, carefully drawing her forward to her. Her words are soft whispers with sharp intonations, a dichotomy against the others, "Speak not His name, but LORD, that in crimson and black He may lead you through HATE and unto GREED." She dips her head above Vatul's sanguine soaked face, her breath warm as she suddenly darts her tongue out to swipe a streak of claret off of the contours of her lips. "Know Him, and fear His true ranks."

In a swift, sudden movement, Iveseth's mouth is pressed firm to Vatul's, choking and consuming. A moment passes between the two of them, the embrace seemingly a familial one, before there is the sickening sound of flesh being rendered by blunt teeth and the burbling of blood from between their lips. When she pulls away from the noble, it is with a vicious grin and a wash of blood across her face, leaving Vatul alone as she stands and turns back to Avurekhos.

An aura of repulsion surrounds Vatul as the tongues of flame encompassing her body bleed into a pale haze of grey. Her hands clench at her sides, pointed nails digging into the heels of her palms as the kiss is one that she does not seek. A scream of spiteful laughter snarls from her lips, wordless and now mute without her own tongue, the excruciating pain only met with the endurance of a true Daughter of Nifilhema. Her stained hands draw across her visage, paints her shrouded cheeks as she continues to spit the blood from her mouth as it fills, over and over again.

Avurekhos strides towards Vatul, this time no words are said, almost personally he grabs Vatul by the collar to lift her up before cuffing her in the face with a clenched fist. Blood spattering out into the crowd, he states, "For you are nothing but a tool in His domain, know your place." his other hand quickly breaking through fabric until he is at skin touch upon Vatul's chest digging into it viciously, and reaching bone, "At the heart of it all, that is all you are." he turns to the crowd, "That is all we are, we pay in blood for our transgressions to the God of Gods. Now meet your Maker."

Avurekhos begins to chant in a deep and baleful voice, and an iron cross rises up from the ground before Vatul. Vicious spikes slam into her flesh and nail her to the cross. She screams in pain and agony as blood is splattered in all directions.

Vatul jerks as the iron cross pulls her limbs, resulting in a sickening crunch of bones.

Avurekhos chants harshly at Vatul, while cracking his knuckles loudly.
The flesh on the left arm of Vatul shrivels to the bone.
The flesh on the right leg of Vatul shrivels to the bone.

Avurekhos chants harshly at Vatul, while cracking his knuckles loudly.

Vatul bleeds like a stuck pig upon the iron cross.

Avurekhos looms over the pitiful form of Vatul and plunges his hands into the chest, ripping out the heart. He offers up the bloody organ to the Demon Lords of Nil, and then laughs ecstatically as monstrous dark shadows wrap around him.
Vatul has been slain by Avurekhos.

Avurekhos holds a heart in his hand before the crowd, cupping it, he nods.

Avurekhos turns towards you and Iveseth.

With sight and tongue restored, the looming figure of Vatul once more crosses the threshold. Her dignified steps, tracing through the parting path of the crowd as night falls eternal across the fulcrux. She traipses directly toward the Warlord, she offers a svelte nod of acknowledgement.

A grimace pulls at Iveseth's face, twisting her fine features into one of contempt. Her eyes peer at the heart in Avurekhos's hand before she turns away from it, rejecting it entirely.

Vatul's full lips coil into a cruel tug of pouting lips as she dismisses all but the attention of Avurekhos.

You have emoted: Eyes bright at the sight of the heart in Avurekhos's fist, Anita's attention is then caught by the dismissal of Vatul and she steps quickly to the reformed viscanti, firmly grasping the back of the woman's neck with a bloody hand. Even as small as she is, she forces Vatul towards Avurekhos, kicking the back of her knees and forcing her to kneel before the Warlord. "You will submit. You will repent. You will obey. You are nothing." She reaches out to Avurekhos, tugging the wrist of the hand that holds the still warm heart, before she releases it, hands grasping at and prying the full lips of the kneeling woman apart.

Avurekhos nods, he moves towards Vatul one last time, holding the heart in one hand drenched in blood as he shoves it down Vatul's throat.

Vatul falls to her knees, though the descent remains silent. She slaps your hand away, clawing it as she leers at her very proximity. "I do not require force to submit to my own repentance, Sister of Blood, willingly I give of myself to the LORD and HIS mercy," she remarks with an unruffled demeanour. "From nothingness we come, and to nothingness we return." And as Avurekhos shoves the heart within her waiting lips, the blood collides with sharpened canines, as the devouring of herself is met with an awaiting, rictus smile.

Nightmare of the Glomdoring, Avurekhos Feyranti, Crimson Fist of Luciphage says, "So concludes the sacrifice, might it entertain the Lord and honour Him. Seek not to deny Him ever again or speak for him, remember that you are nothing."

Vatul bows her head, and speaks, "I offer my gratitude to those who have made my sacrifice possible. My hatred shall burn for you in the years to come."

Avurekhos's eyes twinkle enchantingly.

You smirk.

Smiling sweetly now, you say to Vatul, "I shall carry the taste of your blood and that of your lips with me, Lady Grey."

Vatul levels a lingering gaze to you, irises glinting with sensuous whirls of gold as a coy expression crosses her veiled face. "Come closer, next time, my darling, perhaps I shall embrace you more fully," she rasps in her dark voice. "Until such times, I bid you all farewell. May the Masque's greed comfort you."

* End *

Descriptions of the ritualists and sacrifice-
Iveseth:
She is a fiendish undead irontongue viscanti diabolic demigoddess changeling and she wears the perfection of her race well. Despite the meagerness of her stature and weight, the handful of a shard stands at two metres in height, her trim and willowy form built with the beauty and grace of many tainted beings. Pale as smoky lavender and scented much the same, Iveseth's amaranthine skin holds none of the blemishes brought about by the city's smog, instead retaining the smooth and taut appearance from the day's of her youth. Overall, her appearance is somewhat more darling and candy-sweet than the average viscanti's noble features. Her round face suits the wide, golden lambency of her heavily- lashed eyes, pert button nose, and velvetine violet lips, the features a stark contrast to the hawkish looks found amidst the beings of the engine. Chosen to accent the contours of her face, a shimmer of gold dust sparkles from her cheekbones and eyelids, made to seem all the more glowing by the natural shades of her hair and skin. Dark eyebrows perch on her browbone, manicured and shaped to an aesthetically pleasant arch below the violet bangs that hang down onto her visage. Various blossoms and artificial flora decorate her crown, hanging from the spires of her horns. The woman's taste for fashion extends even to her horns, each ram-like bone carved prettily with swirling lines and floral laces. Sinfully dark and utterly decadent, trails of golden paint decorate the contours of her flesh, from the curves of her hips and her chest. Splatters of creamy white paint mar the gold, smudging the gilt and sending streaks of it down her body like gilded, weeping tears. Hung heavy with the scent of old blood and dark sacrifices, handprints cling to her throat and over her mouth, sanguine red branded bright over the lavender skin. An animalistic scent surrounds her, primal and familiar, hanging heavy in the back of your throat.
She is wearing:
a hoop of intertwined gold and emerald through her left nipple glitters gold against the lavender of her skin
a hoop of intertwined gold and emerald through her right nipple sparkles in the light, shining with its twin
a simple gold hoop through her navel draws the eye lower on her body
an aureate circlet of sanguine and honeyed blossoms pinned carefully in her hair, vibrant in the dark waves
a strand of bloody Fainite prayer beads hanging around her slender throat like a deathly omen
an alluring eye mask of crimson gems and melanoid leather that casts the upper portion of her face in a guise of shadows
a netted body chain of gold and pearls which covers the shape of her body in a cascade of decadence
a void-black loincloth bespeckled with offal and rubies veiling her legs in tendrils of crimson gauze.

Avurekhos:
He is a fiendish archlich brood viscanti vernal ascendant and is long-limbed: making him rather tall standing at the height of six feet seven inches, with alabaster white skin covering his entire frame that bulges from the sinews of his legs to the musculature of his chest and arms. Wavy, unkempt platinum blonde hair cascades down just below his broad shoulders, pierced on both sides of his head by sharply tipped ears that crest along it. His irises flash silver, shining meekly within almond-shaped eyes that rest below sharp, bold eyebrows. A bit lower is a rigidly curved, petite nose that leads down to small, pursed lips that give him a look that hovers between pensive and innocent. A jagged orange stripe, almost similar to a lightning bolt rests on the middle of his forehead, contrasting with the rays of sunshine painted over the rest of his face.
Long, elegant horns sprout from his brow, curling back upon themselves in ornate coils encrusted with lush, cushion-cut emeralds set in shallow gold depressions. Malefic tips extend dangerously behind his head, each emerald growing smaller and smaller until nought but pulverised gemstones grace their needle-sharp pinnacles.
He is wearing:
a blood-red standard of the Ur'Guard
a mask of a featureless marionette
the signet ring of the Midnight Circle of the Supreme Master
an elegant dragon wedding band
a cruel crimson mask covered in black ritualistic markings
a Pendant of Apex Evolution
a crown of dark malevolence
an alluring eye mask of crimson gems and melanoid leather.

Anita:
She is a fiendish undead viscanti silver-tongued demigoddess changeling and a vision of both delicacy and sensuality manifest with a diminutive stature at four and a half feet tall. Smooth and soft perfection is the pale skin that covers her form, not a blemish in sight apart from around her neck where the vicious barbs of the prayer beads of the Crimson Lord dig deeply into the supple flesh, causing fresh beads of iron-wine to spill forth every so often to slowly drip down and mar both skin and clothing. Though small in size, she holds herself with the regal poise known of her race and an eye-catching hourglass form; an ample bust, narrow waist and wide hips that flow down into luscious legs. Long slender arms end in delicate bloodied hands, each slender digit tipped with wickedly filed black nails. Darling curls of the purest snow-white tumble down from the crown of her head, framing her face and falling past her shoulders to end just above the delicious curvature of her rear. Emerging from betwixt the snowy locks are dull iron horns that rise and twist upon themselves, the sharp tips almost touching to the pointed tips of her ears. Her features are exquisitely feminine; a small pert nose set between high cast cheekbones, where below sit seductively full lips that have been painted red. Just below gently arched eyebrows sit her most noticeable feature - large child-like eyes that possess a smouldering and bewitching beauty, both unique in appearance and framed in a thick haze of ink-black lashes. Her left eye is of a magnificent emerald, marred by flecks of gold, where her right eye is a piercing ice-blue, void of any imperfections. Resting upon her brow is a crown of golden orchids pressed between crimson roses, the cloying, nectarous scent of honey and blossoms lingering about her form. She walks with the truefavour of Czixi.
Menacing horns twist upon themselves like crooked spires on her head, their dully reflective circumferences rigid enough to accommodate silver wire criss-crossing to either side in a wretched dreamcatcher. Bent and cracked bells abuse their clappers betwixt these, a disharmony brought to life with each twist of head or subtle movement.
She is wearing:
a circlet of interlocking crystal perched among the golden orchids and crimson roses upon her brow
an anklet adorned with a multitude of bells, chiming softly with each movement
a strand of bloody Fainite prayer beads around her neck, the wicked barbs digging deep into her flesh
an elegant amaranth hair pin trailing pearls caught in the wild tangles of her hair
a striking oxblood silk gown mantled with trails of darkened gauze clinging sensually to her curvaceous form
a blood diamond and velvet choker with scalloped silver chains tightly around her slender neck
a luminous golden amaranth cuff bracelet around her left wrist
an alluring eye mask of crimson gems and melanoid leather across her eyes.

Vatul:
Like the rising of the dead at midnight, her steps chime with a train of spiga chains of aged bronze carillon bells that trail behind her as they mark her otherwise silent footfalls. She is a fiendish undead irontongue viscanti maleficent demigoddess and looms from her height like some undesiring spectre that has yet met its end, each movement caught in billows of writhing, charcoal smog that perhaps only paintings could ever hope to capture. As if caught in a pillar of incense, her perfume is heady and blinding, laced with arsenic, crushed rose, ylang-ylang, and thick swaths of jasmine, some strands intangibly beyond the realm of any palette of worldly colour. Eternally rippling, maddening tongues of lavender flame curl at the edges of a cloak from her feet, an entire score's worth of loomwork weaving such a garment of sombre mist-grey silk. The cold flames seem to not touch the cloth but merely be entwined with it, burning high like sacred nihilistic bonfires bent upon ruinous destruction. Set carefully folded drapes in contrapasso, the cloak itself glides with her movements that seem to both float and dance with dreadful, incorporeal lines that conceal any thought of a figure underneath. It consumes the entirety of her en masse from ankle to the crown of her august head which is shadowed by a dark cowl that bears no face, or perhaps, many disturbing revelations. Enveloping sleeves of tattered silk pool about shoulders and forearms, while bound undersleeves weave across her right arm contrasting her left which is as pale as a blue moon. Death's presence and its agony are invoked across the soft underside of this limb to reveal silver wires pulling taut flesh apart in a wound of an amaranth, where wine-stained blood glistens against supple golden hooks. She walks with the truefavour of Drocilla.
She is wearing:
a bewitching censer smouldering with lavender flames whispering at her ear with dark melodies
a thick gorget collar of white gold lace and blood-stained nacre over layers of dark silk
a tenebrous driftwood band of lace and peeling gold
a spired crown of corrupted iron resting atop the hooded cowl of her cloak
the Accursed Cord of the Dark Arts securing both cloak and robe underneath her loose mantle
a pendulous blood diamond and silver patina earring through her left ear
a pendulous blood diamond and silver patina earring through her right ear
Bewitching Prayer Beads of the Enchantress spilling with plumes of sensuous smoke
a soulcage pendant trapped in ghostly silver resin
a bewitching indigo stole of fine-spun gossamer and twilit nightingale feathers
the Iron Key to the Infernal Machine rattling from a chain at her side, glowing through smog.