Veltor's Ritual
Posted: Sun Mar 30, 2014 8:54 pm
((This is a little story I wrote the other day. Admittedly, it's not really about Kogrona, but rather a different character of mine. It is someone she associated with for a time and occasionally refers to. Hope it's okay!))
In the dimmed light, shadows danced across the walls and ceiling. A mysterious interior fog had covered the room, shrouding it in a dark red gloom. There were a handful of candles jutting from either side, but they did little to penetrate the darkness. The only notable object in the room was the ominous altar that lay in the center. The stone surface was marred by blood stains, scratches, and other blemishes. It's appearance implied it had a gruesome and terrible history. And if Veltor listened very carefully, he believed he could he could hear the screams and cries of the room's former inhabitants.
This was his favorite place. His sanctuary. He loved any excuse he could find to return.
Something shifted nearby. Turning his head to the side, he regarded his guest, a young elven woman that was slowly coming to. Her appearance was typical for one of the Sin'Dorei, or Blood Elves. Bright green eyes, beatiful face, slender build. Quite attractive, he supposed. Not that he was interested in her, not in that way. He hadn't felt any sort of urges of that nature in years, not since he had risen from his grave.
Still, he preferred the attractive ones for what he was about to do. Something about their beauty simply made it more satisfying.
The elf shifted from left to right. Veltor smiled. It would have been impossible for her to notice, in part because of the thick red fog that would have obscured her vision, and in part because of the mask that he wore over his face. He smiled because this was so typical. The guest would twist and turn, realizing they were constrained by some manner of bonds. They'd test them, see if they could wiggle free or loosen them somehow, and then they'd refocus their attention on where they were. And sometimes, they would say....
"Who are you? Where am I? What's the meaning of this?"
Veltor felt his smile widen. Perfect. Of course, he could cut right to the point and begin talking back right away, answering her questions and doing his best to make her feel comfortable. He did that sometimes. It could be quite satisfying, in it's own way, to give guests a false sense of relief before the end.
But not today. He needed to taste fear, see it in her eyes, her face, and then her whole body. That fear would be delicious, and it would be pleasing to the great ones.
He could tell that her eyes had not yet adjusted to the darkness. He, on the other hand, had perfect vision. He was used to this sort of environment, and had no trouble seeing and enjoying the little elf struggle. He enjoyed watching her eyes in particular, the bright green glow that was filled with so much energy and power. The eyes blinked, then shifted all around in rapid movement. They had not yet focused on anything in the room. She still could not see him. He would wait a few more moments, let the tension build. But not too long, no, no, no. That would be rude. He could not be rude, not to a guest.
After just a little more time had passed, he decided the time was right. He moved in a slow and silent fashion, careful that his footfalls did not attract the attention of the woman's keen elven hearing. Of course, had she not been as scared as she was, her senses would have been working perfectly and no matter how careful he was, she'd find him. Others had in the past, spoiling at least some of the fun that he'd intended to have. This one did not. Her breath had quickened, and her movements were becoming even more frantic.
Veltor loved the silence. It was so much better at allowing people to imagine the horrors that lay just on the other side, waiting to be unleashed, shrieking and screaming. But until then, nothing. Nothing but silence.
Veltor maneuvered himself until he was standing directly in front of the elven girl. Then, ever so carefully, he kneeled down. He had to position himself perfectly for the maximum effect, and he could never be entirely certain where the ideal position was. It depended entirely on how quickly the other individual's eyesight adjusted to the gloom, as well as how good their natural vision was.
In this case, he must have guessed correctly. The moment he stopped moving, he sensed the Elf grow still. The green eyes focused on his face, or at least what little she could make out. Which wasn't much, he suspected, considering most of it was hidden by the pointed skeletal mask that he wore. Though she couldn't see his features, he had a perfect view of hers. It brought him no small amount of pleasure as her lovely eyes enlarged with fear, and she tried to put some distance between herself and the mask. She was tied down, so she could only scoot backward an inch or two. It was almost cute.
The silence came again. When she realized that he wasn't making any movement toward her, she stopped struggling. She was studying what she could see of him. Her lovely green eyes narrowed, and it was almost as though he could see her brain at work beyond her face. She was most likely trying to surmise the amount of danger that she was in, and what the best way would be to get out of it. He had no desire to disturb her, so he remained silent and motionless, staring back at her.
Their standoff persisted for a few more moments. He could see sweat forming over her brow, trickling down her delicate facial features. A slight tremor. She was trying to hide her fear, but failing. Sooner or later, she would speak. She would be the first to break the silence.
It was a game, really. A game he loved. A game that he rarely lost.
Just as he suspected, she was the first to break the silence. “I don't know who you are,” she began, her voice silky and sweet, though a bit shaky. “But I'll have you know that my mother is a powerful Sin'Dorei mage. And she has even more powerful friends from higher places!”
She paused. Waiting for a response. She would receive none.
The fear was growing. She had brave words, but her terror was transparent. He could hear the loud gulp that came from her throat. It was delicious.
She continued on. “So you would be wise not to attempt to harm me. Release me, and I'll pretend this never happened.”
He could hear her swallow again. He wondered what it tasted like. What it felt like to have organs that functioned as they were intended. He couldn't remember. He'd been Forsaken too long.
The Elf 's breathing was ragged now. She was trembling all over. It was exactly the effect he had hoped for. His silence had gotten to her, unnerved her. And this was the first lesson that Veltor had learned. It is the possibility of danger, the imagination of unknown horrors, that is what leads to true fear. The terrors of the mind are greater than any reality can ever bring.
Well, except the one that he was about to bring to her. He was reasonably certain that it was much worse than anything she could imagine. But this part of the game was fun for him, even so.
She spoke again, her voice rising. “What do you want from me? Anything you want, name it, and it's yours! Anything! Just don't hurt me, please!”
This time, he allowed himself a slight response, though he wondered if she would notice. He cocked his head to the side, as though he were curious about her offer.
She picked right up on his gesture. “Yes! My family is rich, powerful! They can give you anything! Surely you want something from them! They can give you anything you want! Please!” There was hope now, for she had perceived that maybe her host might just be willing to bargain with her, that maybe he was a weak and selfish creature, easily lured by the promise of gold or prominence.
Hope was a wonderful thing, Veltor thought to himself. It is beautiful only because of what happens to the spirit afterward when it is crushed. Rather than giving her any sort of verbal answer, he merely shook his head at the girl. Nice and slow. Painstakingly so.
It had the exact effect that he desired. The girl immediately started shrieking, thrusting violently against the bonds that held her down. Screaming and twisting in every direction, tears began flowing freely from her face. Veltor didn't believe it possible, but the young woman's beauty seemed almost enhanced by it. Truly, she was an angel amongst her kind. He wondered, briefly, if perhaps her family was as powerful or affluent as she claimed. It may well be the case. But it wouldn't matter. No one would come to save her here.
He waited for a time. She continued to cry and curse and scream, struggling to free herself, to make herself heard, for anything to happen that might help her. In time, her struggles began to fade. She weakened. Her flow of tears began to ebb, and her sobs died to a more reasonable level.
It was time to break the silence. Veltor leaned forward, the tip of his mask nearly brushing the girl's face. He could see her eyes so clearly now. So beautiful. So green, so clear! She went completely still as he leaned up to her face. He detected a sliver of hope remaining. Perhaps she thought she could reason with him. He would have to prove otherwise.
“Eyes and nose, fingers and toes.” He spoke, savoring each word. It was so fun to say! “That's how our little story goes.”
The elf blinked, sniffling. “What?”
Reaching to his side, Veltor grabbed hold of his favorite knife, a wicked looking ceremonial dagger, and then raised it between his mask and her face. Her eyes somehow got even wider, and he could see as comprehension suddenly dawned on her. Her mouth shot open, and she took in a sharp breath. Veltor could see her silently mouth “No!”
This never got old. Not to Veltor.
He repeated himself, this time adding a bit more to his little word game. “Eyes and nose, fingers and toes, that's how our little story goes. And when I've cut your body through and through, I'll patch you up...” Lowering the dagger, he put a comforting hand on her shoulder before finishing. “...And begin anew.”
The screaming started again. She struggled. This time, he was not content to wait. Raising his arm and giving a signal, one of the shadows nearby suddenly came to life. A large, armor-clad nightmare emerged from behind the girl, lifting her up in it's massive arms. Her shrieks grew even louder, and her struggles became more desperate. Veltor was unconcerned. She was no match for the power of any of his demonic minions, and certainly not the large brute that had picked her up.
“Be careful with our guest!” He commanded. “I would hate for her to suffer any harm before we begin with our fun.”
The demon gave a curt nod before stepping forward. If the girl's struggles gave the demon any trouble, the creature gave no indication of it. It reached the altar with only a couple of steps, and then with a gentleness that seemed most unbecoming of the creature's frightful appearance, it laid her down upon the altar with great care.
After allowing the demon a moment to secure her arms and legs to the altar before stepping aside, Veltor approached the altar for himself. This was the moment he had been waiting for. Everything had been fun up to this point, and exactly as it should be. But it was just the warm-up. Just the little steps to get them to this point. The girl was in the exact state that he needed her. She was terrified beyond belief.
Perhaps she deserved a little comfort.
“Sssssh, sssssh,” Veltor placed a hand along her cheek, stroking her with soft, gentle motions. She quieted down a bit. Now that was a surprise. Most continued to fight or scream, defying the inevitable as best they could. A few, a very special few, would grow quiet. Accepting.
Veltor liked to think of them as more perfect sacrifices.
“It's alright, my dear girl. You'll be perfect soon. Beautiful. Greater than you are, greater than I am!” He continued stroking her, his hand moving through her hair. It was smooth as silk, and was quite pleasant to touch. He leaned his face closer to the girl's. “Don't worry about a thing. It will be over soon.”
The girl looked hopeful again. He could see it in her eyes. Perhaps what was coming would not be so bad after all.
“Of course, soon is a relative term. It'll go much faster for me.” Veltor cackled as the girl's expression again twisted into one of horror. “And then we'll do the whole thing over, and over, and over again. Won't that be nice?”
Without warning, the elven girl somehow managed to twist her head and bite him hard on his hand, the one that had been stroking her hair. Her teeth made it all the way to the bone. The pain went shooting through his hand and arm. It was intense, greater than he had felt in a while. It was beautiful in it's own way. But of course, he had work to do. Shaking his head, but making absolutely no effort to free his arm, he made a disapproving “tsk tsk tsk” sound before raising the knife with his other hand. “You've got some fight left within you. I like you a lot! We're going to be the best of friends, you know!”
Perhaps she had expected him to yank his hand away from her teeth. Maybe she had dared to hope that he would be distracted enough for her to get free. There were some things he would never understand. How people could dare to hope or try for freedom when it was impossible. When they knew there was no way out, but they just kept trying. Hope, despite all odds. It simply didn't make sense. It would be so much easier for everyone if they would simply accept what was coming.
The girl let go of his hand, staring at the knife that was now hovering just inches above her face. Again, the tears began to flow. Her chest heaved, and she let out a scream.
“Remember what I told you!” Veltor called out in a sing-song voice, despite her shrieks. “Eyes and nose, fingers and toes.”
The knife loomed closer. The elven woman was burying herself as deeply into the stone as she could, trying to get away from the tip of the blade. It was close now, so close. She had nowhere to go. The gleaming tip of the knife hovered just inches from those precious green eyes of hers.
“Eyes and nose...” Veltor sang out again. The blade was close now. Almost touching.
“Eyes and nose...”
Her scream filled the room. It was the first perfect scream, one filled with pain, terror, and the utter destruction of all hope. It was beautiful. And there would be so many more to come.
In the dimmed light, shadows danced across the walls and ceiling. A mysterious interior fog had covered the room, shrouding it in a dark red gloom. There were a handful of candles jutting from either side, but they did little to penetrate the darkness. The only notable object in the room was the ominous altar that lay in the center. The stone surface was marred by blood stains, scratches, and other blemishes. It's appearance implied it had a gruesome and terrible history. And if Veltor listened very carefully, he believed he could he could hear the screams and cries of the room's former inhabitants.
This was his favorite place. His sanctuary. He loved any excuse he could find to return.
Something shifted nearby. Turning his head to the side, he regarded his guest, a young elven woman that was slowly coming to. Her appearance was typical for one of the Sin'Dorei, or Blood Elves. Bright green eyes, beatiful face, slender build. Quite attractive, he supposed. Not that he was interested in her, not in that way. He hadn't felt any sort of urges of that nature in years, not since he had risen from his grave.
Still, he preferred the attractive ones for what he was about to do. Something about their beauty simply made it more satisfying.
The elf shifted from left to right. Veltor smiled. It would have been impossible for her to notice, in part because of the thick red fog that would have obscured her vision, and in part because of the mask that he wore over his face. He smiled because this was so typical. The guest would twist and turn, realizing they were constrained by some manner of bonds. They'd test them, see if they could wiggle free or loosen them somehow, and then they'd refocus their attention on where they were. And sometimes, they would say....
"Who are you? Where am I? What's the meaning of this?"
Veltor felt his smile widen. Perfect. Of course, he could cut right to the point and begin talking back right away, answering her questions and doing his best to make her feel comfortable. He did that sometimes. It could be quite satisfying, in it's own way, to give guests a false sense of relief before the end.
But not today. He needed to taste fear, see it in her eyes, her face, and then her whole body. That fear would be delicious, and it would be pleasing to the great ones.
He could tell that her eyes had not yet adjusted to the darkness. He, on the other hand, had perfect vision. He was used to this sort of environment, and had no trouble seeing and enjoying the little elf struggle. He enjoyed watching her eyes in particular, the bright green glow that was filled with so much energy and power. The eyes blinked, then shifted all around in rapid movement. They had not yet focused on anything in the room. She still could not see him. He would wait a few more moments, let the tension build. But not too long, no, no, no. That would be rude. He could not be rude, not to a guest.
After just a little more time had passed, he decided the time was right. He moved in a slow and silent fashion, careful that his footfalls did not attract the attention of the woman's keen elven hearing. Of course, had she not been as scared as she was, her senses would have been working perfectly and no matter how careful he was, she'd find him. Others had in the past, spoiling at least some of the fun that he'd intended to have. This one did not. Her breath had quickened, and her movements were becoming even more frantic.
Veltor loved the silence. It was so much better at allowing people to imagine the horrors that lay just on the other side, waiting to be unleashed, shrieking and screaming. But until then, nothing. Nothing but silence.
Veltor maneuvered himself until he was standing directly in front of the elven girl. Then, ever so carefully, he kneeled down. He had to position himself perfectly for the maximum effect, and he could never be entirely certain where the ideal position was. It depended entirely on how quickly the other individual's eyesight adjusted to the gloom, as well as how good their natural vision was.
In this case, he must have guessed correctly. The moment he stopped moving, he sensed the Elf grow still. The green eyes focused on his face, or at least what little she could make out. Which wasn't much, he suspected, considering most of it was hidden by the pointed skeletal mask that he wore. Though she couldn't see his features, he had a perfect view of hers. It brought him no small amount of pleasure as her lovely eyes enlarged with fear, and she tried to put some distance between herself and the mask. She was tied down, so she could only scoot backward an inch or two. It was almost cute.
The silence came again. When she realized that he wasn't making any movement toward her, she stopped struggling. She was studying what she could see of him. Her lovely green eyes narrowed, and it was almost as though he could see her brain at work beyond her face. She was most likely trying to surmise the amount of danger that she was in, and what the best way would be to get out of it. He had no desire to disturb her, so he remained silent and motionless, staring back at her.
Their standoff persisted for a few more moments. He could see sweat forming over her brow, trickling down her delicate facial features. A slight tremor. She was trying to hide her fear, but failing. Sooner or later, she would speak. She would be the first to break the silence.
It was a game, really. A game he loved. A game that he rarely lost.
Just as he suspected, she was the first to break the silence. “I don't know who you are,” she began, her voice silky and sweet, though a bit shaky. “But I'll have you know that my mother is a powerful Sin'Dorei mage. And she has even more powerful friends from higher places!”
She paused. Waiting for a response. She would receive none.
The fear was growing. She had brave words, but her terror was transparent. He could hear the loud gulp that came from her throat. It was delicious.
She continued on. “So you would be wise not to attempt to harm me. Release me, and I'll pretend this never happened.”
He could hear her swallow again. He wondered what it tasted like. What it felt like to have organs that functioned as they were intended. He couldn't remember. He'd been Forsaken too long.
The Elf 's breathing was ragged now. She was trembling all over. It was exactly the effect he had hoped for. His silence had gotten to her, unnerved her. And this was the first lesson that Veltor had learned. It is the possibility of danger, the imagination of unknown horrors, that is what leads to true fear. The terrors of the mind are greater than any reality can ever bring.
Well, except the one that he was about to bring to her. He was reasonably certain that it was much worse than anything she could imagine. But this part of the game was fun for him, even so.
She spoke again, her voice rising. “What do you want from me? Anything you want, name it, and it's yours! Anything! Just don't hurt me, please!”
This time, he allowed himself a slight response, though he wondered if she would notice. He cocked his head to the side, as though he were curious about her offer.
She picked right up on his gesture. “Yes! My family is rich, powerful! They can give you anything! Surely you want something from them! They can give you anything you want! Please!” There was hope now, for she had perceived that maybe her host might just be willing to bargain with her, that maybe he was a weak and selfish creature, easily lured by the promise of gold or prominence.
Hope was a wonderful thing, Veltor thought to himself. It is beautiful only because of what happens to the spirit afterward when it is crushed. Rather than giving her any sort of verbal answer, he merely shook his head at the girl. Nice and slow. Painstakingly so.
It had the exact effect that he desired. The girl immediately started shrieking, thrusting violently against the bonds that held her down. Screaming and twisting in every direction, tears began flowing freely from her face. Veltor didn't believe it possible, but the young woman's beauty seemed almost enhanced by it. Truly, she was an angel amongst her kind. He wondered, briefly, if perhaps her family was as powerful or affluent as she claimed. It may well be the case. But it wouldn't matter. No one would come to save her here.
He waited for a time. She continued to cry and curse and scream, struggling to free herself, to make herself heard, for anything to happen that might help her. In time, her struggles began to fade. She weakened. Her flow of tears began to ebb, and her sobs died to a more reasonable level.
It was time to break the silence. Veltor leaned forward, the tip of his mask nearly brushing the girl's face. He could see her eyes so clearly now. So beautiful. So green, so clear! She went completely still as he leaned up to her face. He detected a sliver of hope remaining. Perhaps she thought she could reason with him. He would have to prove otherwise.
“Eyes and nose, fingers and toes.” He spoke, savoring each word. It was so fun to say! “That's how our little story goes.”
The elf blinked, sniffling. “What?”
Reaching to his side, Veltor grabbed hold of his favorite knife, a wicked looking ceremonial dagger, and then raised it between his mask and her face. Her eyes somehow got even wider, and he could see as comprehension suddenly dawned on her. Her mouth shot open, and she took in a sharp breath. Veltor could see her silently mouth “No!”
This never got old. Not to Veltor.
He repeated himself, this time adding a bit more to his little word game. “Eyes and nose, fingers and toes, that's how our little story goes. And when I've cut your body through and through, I'll patch you up...” Lowering the dagger, he put a comforting hand on her shoulder before finishing. “...And begin anew.”
The screaming started again. She struggled. This time, he was not content to wait. Raising his arm and giving a signal, one of the shadows nearby suddenly came to life. A large, armor-clad nightmare emerged from behind the girl, lifting her up in it's massive arms. Her shrieks grew even louder, and her struggles became more desperate. Veltor was unconcerned. She was no match for the power of any of his demonic minions, and certainly not the large brute that had picked her up.
“Be careful with our guest!” He commanded. “I would hate for her to suffer any harm before we begin with our fun.”
The demon gave a curt nod before stepping forward. If the girl's struggles gave the demon any trouble, the creature gave no indication of it. It reached the altar with only a couple of steps, and then with a gentleness that seemed most unbecoming of the creature's frightful appearance, it laid her down upon the altar with great care.
After allowing the demon a moment to secure her arms and legs to the altar before stepping aside, Veltor approached the altar for himself. This was the moment he had been waiting for. Everything had been fun up to this point, and exactly as it should be. But it was just the warm-up. Just the little steps to get them to this point. The girl was in the exact state that he needed her. She was terrified beyond belief.
Perhaps she deserved a little comfort.
“Sssssh, sssssh,” Veltor placed a hand along her cheek, stroking her with soft, gentle motions. She quieted down a bit. Now that was a surprise. Most continued to fight or scream, defying the inevitable as best they could. A few, a very special few, would grow quiet. Accepting.
Veltor liked to think of them as more perfect sacrifices.
“It's alright, my dear girl. You'll be perfect soon. Beautiful. Greater than you are, greater than I am!” He continued stroking her, his hand moving through her hair. It was smooth as silk, and was quite pleasant to touch. He leaned his face closer to the girl's. “Don't worry about a thing. It will be over soon.”
The girl looked hopeful again. He could see it in her eyes. Perhaps what was coming would not be so bad after all.
“Of course, soon is a relative term. It'll go much faster for me.” Veltor cackled as the girl's expression again twisted into one of horror. “And then we'll do the whole thing over, and over, and over again. Won't that be nice?”
Without warning, the elven girl somehow managed to twist her head and bite him hard on his hand, the one that had been stroking her hair. Her teeth made it all the way to the bone. The pain went shooting through his hand and arm. It was intense, greater than he had felt in a while. It was beautiful in it's own way. But of course, he had work to do. Shaking his head, but making absolutely no effort to free his arm, he made a disapproving “tsk tsk tsk” sound before raising the knife with his other hand. “You've got some fight left within you. I like you a lot! We're going to be the best of friends, you know!”
Perhaps she had expected him to yank his hand away from her teeth. Maybe she had dared to hope that he would be distracted enough for her to get free. There were some things he would never understand. How people could dare to hope or try for freedom when it was impossible. When they knew there was no way out, but they just kept trying. Hope, despite all odds. It simply didn't make sense. It would be so much easier for everyone if they would simply accept what was coming.
The girl let go of his hand, staring at the knife that was now hovering just inches above her face. Again, the tears began to flow. Her chest heaved, and she let out a scream.
“Remember what I told you!” Veltor called out in a sing-song voice, despite her shrieks. “Eyes and nose, fingers and toes.”
The knife loomed closer. The elven woman was burying herself as deeply into the stone as she could, trying to get away from the tip of the blade. It was close now, so close. She had nowhere to go. The gleaming tip of the knife hovered just inches from those precious green eyes of hers.
“Eyes and nose...” Veltor sang out again. The blade was close now. Almost touching.
“Eyes and nose...”
Her scream filled the room. It was the first perfect scream, one filled with pain, terror, and the utter destruction of all hope. It was beautiful. And there would be so many more to come.