( just a rp im doing for shits and giggles - not putting restrictions on it, if someone wants to add some stuff and go IC that's fine )
' oooooohhhhh '
swathed as usual in the fleshcoat covering his stitched; ragdoll like form_ kahlaramah was slouched upon the back of his skeletal horse. this mount seems to grow more tired, and more lethargic with every passing day. and why not_ it has been put through hell in it's time with the demonologist. however, it has always been unique and full of welly. so many times; when it's master was under attack by groups of stronger enemies on faster steeds_ he was able to evade them by sheer cunning, taking off into the forests and making his own trails, evading the beasts. and when those enemies managed to get a good strike in on him, so many times this skeletal mount would keep right on going, where others would throw him off to escape. yes.. it only reaffirms that he was correct in his decision to purchase this one outright, rather then to summon one of those ridiculous looking felsteeds.
' these magics are expensive, moped. but you will be reincarnated and made into a beast that you never thought possible. oh yes.. '
they stand near the iron golems in the sweltering heat of the burning steppes. tonight, only vilrida accompanies him_ the other felbeings having stayed at the undercity. he ponders as to if they were ordered to stay there, or if they simply did it by their own choice_ and can only come up with a blank. a frown was etched upon his orange painted lips_ this situation is becoming a bit disturbing.. just who are the puppets, anymore? vilrida's hand would come to the side of his stitched features, brushing aside two thick dreadlocks in a sensual caress_ and these concerns immediately depart from his mind.
everything is just peachy_ these noble creatures now have grown far greater in power, for his infernal ritual was completed some time ago, with considerable difficulty. there is but one that lies ahead - a doomlord, although it seems that he will have to wait to get on the path to this final minion. for there is this matter of kahlaramah's ride, and even the demons hypnotic control have not managed to sway him from this determination to revive and rebuild the ol'moped. while this creature is one of indifference to most things, this is a rare matter of affection.
' why do you bother yourself with this beast, kahlaramah. it is slow, but mobile. use it until it cannot be used more - then trade it in for another of it's kind. why waste so much money and time.. you have no need for racing dear.. you need to strengthen yourself, and strengthen us.. make our circle complete.. so that we can kill so beautifully '
vilrida's tone sifts through the heatwaves, delicately whispered to the side of his head. she does know how to manipulate his priorities, she is fully aware of his sadistic pleasures.
' no, vilrida. we now focus on raising the monetary value that is required so that i can purchase an epic warhorse. then, i am going to drain it of it's soul, until it falls over dead. afterwards, i will caste a soulstone over ol'moped's head here. then, i will use my soul harvestor to smash and axe his bones - and bag them up for some foolery rituals later on down the line. then, i will ressurect this beast of burden's essence into the stronger animal's corpse. i will not get that 'dreadsteed' you seem to want so badly, and our circle will do just fine without it. now.. i can mine dark iron ore now.. the shit sells pretty damn good in the auction house - i saw offers for up to nine gold, for just a stack of ten of those things! unsmelted... i suppose i have to do some annoying adventure to learn how to smelt it, but why bother, with that kind of cash readily available as it is? off with us - it is easier to find in the searing gorge, i do not wish to group together with a bunch of horde adventurers and bother with blackrock mountain. '
and so the worn out creature would take off at a full gallop, still as speedy as any other in it's class_ vilrida running along behind with a murderous glare in those translucent eyes, having not expected kahlaramah to defy her_ to even order her? the circle of demons and the necromancer are a distributed intelligence_ and he has been lapsing into the order as planned. it is unfortunate that phunuum, gobjub and thangorg are not present.. however.. she can improvise.. and begins to do so, as the scent of another draws dangerously near.
it is a rogue, a night elf of it's sixtieth season that suddenly lunges from above, betraying his hiding spot amidst the rocks. two burning swords penetrate kahlaramah's fleshcoat, the flaming ends protruding out of the front of his ribcage, blood and gore sizzling_ and poison immediately infecting the wound.
' ECK NI KULDOOOOO ' ( common - for the alliance )
the two would tumble off of the skeleton horse and onto the charred ground of dried magma_ a sneer developing beneath the bandanna across the elf's face. he would begin twisting the blades, further destroying the ambush necromancer_ cracking bones and basically turning his guts into a messy goo. a gurgling protest escapes from kahlaramah's mouth, however there is still trickery to be done, even in the last stages of death. a hand twists from behind, a special signal given with fingers_ and the elf suddenly begins to run, screaming as a horrible pain sears through his nervous system, and part of his vitality is transferred to the necromancer. kahlaramah stands up; still in the game, but just barely_ immediately taking ahold of his healthstone and muttering words to regenerate the wounds; although the poison is still wearing him down. casting fear atop the death coil spell, and the rogue runs for a few more minutes as more special hand gestures were made, corrupting his organs and splitting his nerve endings to produce agony. however, he suddenly vanishes.
' you whore.. you impudent wench '
vilrida is standing motionless, not aiding the necromancer. the rogue becomes visible once again, hurting quite badly_ but drinks a potion to restore his own vitality, and moves in for the kill. before kahlaramah can immolate him, those vicious blades split him down the middle_ and he drops, dead.
the rogue would stumble away, cackling while still holding his stomach as the curses begin to wear off_ his tiger mount coming down from the cleft, which he jumps upon and rides off into the distance.
never one to forget his soulstone, kahlaramah immediately ressurects with the majority of his vitality intact_ immediately casting a spell upon vilrida to cause her to become immobile for thirty seconds. spitting some blood upon the ground.
' you insolent whore, you would dare turn on me. you may be my right hand, but i will show you why i am master. '
a murderous grin upon mime's lips, soul link was then caste_ so that she may absorb a third of the damage taken to him. as the banishment wears off, she lunges forth, her whip cracking his face wide open and breaking the skull_ however she stumbles back, her own face split open as well. and he begins with the special hand gestures, immediately sending her to run against her will, while applying immolation, agony and corruption. vilrida delivers a heavy hit, but does not take one well_ and her body is destroyed with a final blow from his scythe, splitting her in half. kahlaramah kicks the mutilated girl form, stepping back and speaking rather badly through his ruined mouth.
' and for now i will leave you here in the land of fire, so the buzzards can eat your skin and the worms can wiggle within. you enjoy that, succubus, for when i ressurect you - your tortures will make you wish that i had left you here forever. '
sputtering; he would stumble over to the skeletal horse, who remained dormant throughout the entire play; indifferent, even. could the same have been said, if it was another demon spawn? dragging himself onto it's back and covering the gaping wounds with his fleshcoat, he would once again travel towards the searing gorge_ a bit more mindful of lurking alliance, now that his protectors are seemingly his enemies. this will be dealt with in due time_ and there is no reason not to try and find some of that ore while he is here - for apparently, it is the very cause of this rift.
Disturbed Intelligence by Kahlaramah
-
Keeper Of Lore
- Lost
- Posts: 1749
Re: Disturbed Intelligence by Kahlaramah
and some hours later; kahlaramah would be found busy in the searing gorge_ stuffing the last few chunks of mithril ore into his leather bags. indeed; some of the dark iron had been found to plunder in this land, but unfortunately the quantity left much to be desired. he did have a map that gungorr had recommended, but this had been folded up and placed in the back pocket hours ago_ for the most part it was misleading. ah well, he did manage to collect twenty rocks of the stuff, as well as a plentiful supply of other minerals_ so the night was far from a waste. slinging the heavy sack over the moped's shoulders before mounting, and he would head towards the thorium point, dodging the trivial robots and pausing only to throw a young human over the ledge into the cauldron. an honorless action for sure_ the funnest kind.
coming to the orc woman and dropping some silver into her bucket before climbing onto the back of a bat and ascending to the skies_ ignoring the haughty look that the bitch sends after him. it's a long flight to the undercity_ humming a perverted little ditty along the way, staring down at the various borderlands of azeroth until the creature finally enters the glades_ swooping on down into the sewers, gliding above the sickly green sludge and further into the underground depths. a disgusted sound emitted from the back of his gullet as he dismounts from the creature, canting his head at the flightmaster who greets him and walking down the steps_ annoyance present as the pungent aroma of shit and piss plugs his nostrils, just how is it that rivers of the stuff flow through here, when the main population consists of undead beings who no longer evacuate bodily waste? is it the orcs, trolls and taurens? probably not - their own cities seem to be clean enough. so what.. do the forsaken go out of the way to transport the stuff here? why?
his appendages would extend out, fingertips pointing at an upwards angle, the familiar aura of purplish light radiating out of the necromancers form as phunuum, thangorg, gobjub and even the traitorous vilrida, her flesh healed through ressurection - heavy soulbound chains binding her form_ come forth from each direction to circle him. ... and moped the steed, after a few minutes, late but faithful as always burdened with the heavy bag of minerals. a wordless scowl was sent to the succubus, as he begins to walk_ the procession following him wordlessly. the others seem to pay no mind to vilrida's bindings, least none that he can notice.
firstly coming to the auctioneer, drawing open the bags and unloading the stones in numbered stacks with a monetary price scribbled and tagged to each_ a transaction he has become adept to over the years, that does not take very long. depositing the last item into the bin before pirouetting like a nazi, and marching along to the outer circles of the undercity, the procession still in tow.
' oh, release her kahlaramah! quit with your damn fits, we all have business! '
gobjub the imp, he never has been one to hold his tongue. it is just well, an imp's nature. spidery digits on the necromancer's left hand would curl, the chains that bind vilrida taking an iridescent gleam_ immediately causing the flesh it is in contact with to sizzle and begin to melt_ she falls down with a scream, rolling on the ground_ a chilling effect. phunuum snarls, and thangorg's stare grows a tad more baleful as kahlaramah snarls, a gruesome expression beneath that leather strap mask.
' you impudent creatures will learn just who is giving the orders in this friendship! now, i intend to demonstrate to you fully that... '
- ' and now, what i am sure that all of the male students have been waiting for. the succubus. aside from her obvious capabilities of distraction, she delivers an ample amount of physical damage... '
the necromancer's lecture is cut off, catching the words of the warlock trainer who stands nearby the procession outside of a ritual circle_ with her students on all ends, watching the demonstration and listening to her speak. ironically enough, she is demonstrating the virtues of felmagic to them- incidentally, the lesson has fallen on the subject of the succubus - there is even one standing within the circle. uncoiling fingers as the chains on vilrida grow cold again, her screams silenced as she lays there, gasping and smoking_ the metal already partially merged with the flesh due to the moment of heat. kahlaramah would reach down, seizing her by the neck and dragging her unceremoniously to the circle, rudely showing the she-wizard out of the way to fall to the floor_ her concentration broken, the example demon unsummoned. an uneasy murmur goes through the crowd, all of these magicians young - even the instructor is obviously no match for him; as she does not retort_ simply standing to her feet with a sullen expression. the master demonologist then would drop vilrida's bound form to the ground, in the middle of the circle.
' begone now, your lesson will have to wait. i have my own instructions to give now - but hell, why not.. you scrubs are all aspiring demonologists, right? the name's kahlaramah. the grim raper - shake the hand that shook the world, bitch... '
chuckling as he extends his hand to the trainer woman, only to receive a hateful, if frightened, glare. this defiance only amuses him further; cackling at her refusal as his scarification adorned head turns, looking at the students as the heel of his boot rests on vilrida's neck.
' as she was saying, this is a succubus. soon enough, you will have your own - it really is not as hard as the woman makes it out to be. you just gotta get the hearts of two good men. ' pure ', although we all know no such thing exists, right? nonetheless, demons are just as susceptible to the idiotic morals humans fancied themselves to create. this is a sex demon, for the most part. female counterpart to the incubus. they kill through it, luring you in and trapping you in this fashion to an eternity of lustful service. usually. sounds good, right? yeah - guess there are worse ways to spend an afterlife. it's why you don't really -see- a lot of warlocks in azeroth anymore, it takes a lot of hate or some kind of steadfast determination to keep fighting in a useless political war when you can just fuck your life away. but -anyway-, if you are one of those idiots who wants to be a horde soldier_ whether your just a sadistic freak, or you want revenge for something the humans did, whatever - the succubus can be very well serve as your right hand man. er.. woman. she hits hard as hell, hardest of the minions you can easily summon - there are two.. even a rumor of a third, that are more powerful. but they are less easy to call upon - and i do not need to bother myself explaining their natures to you, it will be a very long time before you are able to even consider trifling with those particular forces. if you do at all. '
the black magician titters_ the students and teacher silenced completely before his unexpected demonstration, in truth_ it is like a demigod of sorts stands before them, so casually rolling these secrets off of his tongue, throwing out information of secret rituals like old women exchange baking recipies. he would sneer; fingers coiling again_ vilrida's scream immediately rising above the usual ruckus of the undercity_ although only those in the immediate vicinity pay it any mind, tortured howls are rather common, especially in the warlocks' part of the magic circle. her flesh reddening, the chains gleaming as the flesh on her body melts, smoking rising from her form as her yells increase, so anguished.
' can you smell the burning meat, scrubs? and now to the focal point of our lesson. demons -cannot- be trusted. they do not serve you out of loyalty, they serve you because you are more powerful then they are, and you will hurt them if they do not. if given the opportunity, they will systematically degenerate you, and -you- will become the minion! not that it would bother me to see any of you devoured - but i see no reason that you cannot learn from this. the succubus is a creature of vanity, first and foremost. because the very root of it's nature is a perpetual loneliness, it devours men and sometimes women sexually for companionship. it's beauty and vanity are crucial to it, and how do you punish a succubus that is not obeying you properly, or kahlaramah forbid... develops a sense of independence? you strip it of this beauty! as you can see, her body is becoming quite sweltered and ugly now, soon it will be grotesque. i do this with a unique, bastardized form of holy energy that i harnassed earlier today by murdering a paladin. it was imbued into the chain that you now see wrapped around this wenches body. there are many uses for a soulshard you see, it always houses fragments of the attributes of the one that you created it from! you young warlocks are probably so naive, blindly worshiping demonic energies without realizing that you can in fact - to a limited degree, harness powers from both ends of the spectrum '
beneath his foot, vilrida''s flesh is beginning to light ablaze_ she writhes and struggles, the chains digging into her liquefied skin with every motion_ a strange mixtion of radiance illuminating the ritual circle. at this point the students and teacher turn to flee, unable to comprehend this bizarre spellcasting of conflicting energies. so heated with exaltation and foreign energies with this experimentation, kahlaramah begins to sway on his feet, staggering back - his mind rupturing, blood streaming out of his eyes as the luminescence begins to fade. the last thing he senses before losing awareness completely is thangorg's large blue arms coming around his, restraining him as he falls limp to the sound of vilrida's screams.
coming to the orc woman and dropping some silver into her bucket before climbing onto the back of a bat and ascending to the skies_ ignoring the haughty look that the bitch sends after him. it's a long flight to the undercity_ humming a perverted little ditty along the way, staring down at the various borderlands of azeroth until the creature finally enters the glades_ swooping on down into the sewers, gliding above the sickly green sludge and further into the underground depths. a disgusted sound emitted from the back of his gullet as he dismounts from the creature, canting his head at the flightmaster who greets him and walking down the steps_ annoyance present as the pungent aroma of shit and piss plugs his nostrils, just how is it that rivers of the stuff flow through here, when the main population consists of undead beings who no longer evacuate bodily waste? is it the orcs, trolls and taurens? probably not - their own cities seem to be clean enough. so what.. do the forsaken go out of the way to transport the stuff here? why?
his appendages would extend out, fingertips pointing at an upwards angle, the familiar aura of purplish light radiating out of the necromancers form as phunuum, thangorg, gobjub and even the traitorous vilrida, her flesh healed through ressurection - heavy soulbound chains binding her form_ come forth from each direction to circle him. ... and moped the steed, after a few minutes, late but faithful as always burdened with the heavy bag of minerals. a wordless scowl was sent to the succubus, as he begins to walk_ the procession following him wordlessly. the others seem to pay no mind to vilrida's bindings, least none that he can notice.
firstly coming to the auctioneer, drawing open the bags and unloading the stones in numbered stacks with a monetary price scribbled and tagged to each_ a transaction he has become adept to over the years, that does not take very long. depositing the last item into the bin before pirouetting like a nazi, and marching along to the outer circles of the undercity, the procession still in tow.
' oh, release her kahlaramah! quit with your damn fits, we all have business! '
gobjub the imp, he never has been one to hold his tongue. it is just well, an imp's nature. spidery digits on the necromancer's left hand would curl, the chains that bind vilrida taking an iridescent gleam_ immediately causing the flesh it is in contact with to sizzle and begin to melt_ she falls down with a scream, rolling on the ground_ a chilling effect. phunuum snarls, and thangorg's stare grows a tad more baleful as kahlaramah snarls, a gruesome expression beneath that leather strap mask.
' you impudent creatures will learn just who is giving the orders in this friendship! now, i intend to demonstrate to you fully that... '
- ' and now, what i am sure that all of the male students have been waiting for. the succubus. aside from her obvious capabilities of distraction, she delivers an ample amount of physical damage... '
the necromancer's lecture is cut off, catching the words of the warlock trainer who stands nearby the procession outside of a ritual circle_ with her students on all ends, watching the demonstration and listening to her speak. ironically enough, she is demonstrating the virtues of felmagic to them- incidentally, the lesson has fallen on the subject of the succubus - there is even one standing within the circle. uncoiling fingers as the chains on vilrida grow cold again, her screams silenced as she lays there, gasping and smoking_ the metal already partially merged with the flesh due to the moment of heat. kahlaramah would reach down, seizing her by the neck and dragging her unceremoniously to the circle, rudely showing the she-wizard out of the way to fall to the floor_ her concentration broken, the example demon unsummoned. an uneasy murmur goes through the crowd, all of these magicians young - even the instructor is obviously no match for him; as she does not retort_ simply standing to her feet with a sullen expression. the master demonologist then would drop vilrida's bound form to the ground, in the middle of the circle.
' begone now, your lesson will have to wait. i have my own instructions to give now - but hell, why not.. you scrubs are all aspiring demonologists, right? the name's kahlaramah. the grim raper - shake the hand that shook the world, bitch... '
chuckling as he extends his hand to the trainer woman, only to receive a hateful, if frightened, glare. this defiance only amuses him further; cackling at her refusal as his scarification adorned head turns, looking at the students as the heel of his boot rests on vilrida's neck.
' as she was saying, this is a succubus. soon enough, you will have your own - it really is not as hard as the woman makes it out to be. you just gotta get the hearts of two good men. ' pure ', although we all know no such thing exists, right? nonetheless, demons are just as susceptible to the idiotic morals humans fancied themselves to create. this is a sex demon, for the most part. female counterpart to the incubus. they kill through it, luring you in and trapping you in this fashion to an eternity of lustful service. usually. sounds good, right? yeah - guess there are worse ways to spend an afterlife. it's why you don't really -see- a lot of warlocks in azeroth anymore, it takes a lot of hate or some kind of steadfast determination to keep fighting in a useless political war when you can just fuck your life away. but -anyway-, if you are one of those idiots who wants to be a horde soldier_ whether your just a sadistic freak, or you want revenge for something the humans did, whatever - the succubus can be very well serve as your right hand man. er.. woman. she hits hard as hell, hardest of the minions you can easily summon - there are two.. even a rumor of a third, that are more powerful. but they are less easy to call upon - and i do not need to bother myself explaining their natures to you, it will be a very long time before you are able to even consider trifling with those particular forces. if you do at all. '
the black magician titters_ the students and teacher silenced completely before his unexpected demonstration, in truth_ it is like a demigod of sorts stands before them, so casually rolling these secrets off of his tongue, throwing out information of secret rituals like old women exchange baking recipies. he would sneer; fingers coiling again_ vilrida's scream immediately rising above the usual ruckus of the undercity_ although only those in the immediate vicinity pay it any mind, tortured howls are rather common, especially in the warlocks' part of the magic circle. her flesh reddening, the chains gleaming as the flesh on her body melts, smoking rising from her form as her yells increase, so anguished.
' can you smell the burning meat, scrubs? and now to the focal point of our lesson. demons -cannot- be trusted. they do not serve you out of loyalty, they serve you because you are more powerful then they are, and you will hurt them if they do not. if given the opportunity, they will systematically degenerate you, and -you- will become the minion! not that it would bother me to see any of you devoured - but i see no reason that you cannot learn from this. the succubus is a creature of vanity, first and foremost. because the very root of it's nature is a perpetual loneliness, it devours men and sometimes women sexually for companionship. it's beauty and vanity are crucial to it, and how do you punish a succubus that is not obeying you properly, or kahlaramah forbid... develops a sense of independence? you strip it of this beauty! as you can see, her body is becoming quite sweltered and ugly now, soon it will be grotesque. i do this with a unique, bastardized form of holy energy that i harnassed earlier today by murdering a paladin. it was imbued into the chain that you now see wrapped around this wenches body. there are many uses for a soulshard you see, it always houses fragments of the attributes of the one that you created it from! you young warlocks are probably so naive, blindly worshiping demonic energies without realizing that you can in fact - to a limited degree, harness powers from both ends of the spectrum '
beneath his foot, vilrida''s flesh is beginning to light ablaze_ she writhes and struggles, the chains digging into her liquefied skin with every motion_ a strange mixtion of radiance illuminating the ritual circle. at this point the students and teacher turn to flee, unable to comprehend this bizarre spellcasting of conflicting energies. so heated with exaltation and foreign energies with this experimentation, kahlaramah begins to sway on his feet, staggering back - his mind rupturing, blood streaming out of his eyes as the luminescence begins to fade. the last thing he senses before losing awareness completely is thangorg's large blue arms coming around his, restraining him as he falls limp to the sound of vilrida's screams.