Thread: A Sinister Realm of Fables & Bloodlust (darkangel76 x Rauk)

In a realm of fables and legend, there were hidden evils more powerful and wicked than any mortal soul could possibly comprehend... These were horrifying times across the land, plagued by misery, anguish, and even death itself. Arthur's nostrils flared as he awoke, drenched in his own sweat. The crevices of his wrinkled forehead were caked in his own dried blood, as it covered his battered face. His once stoic and honorable blue eyes were now nearly sealed shut due to the severe swelling caused by his captor's relentless beatings. His vision was fuzzy and double as he squinted, attempting to make out a visual of his surroundings, giving him some clue of where he may be, as his short term memory has clearly suffered damage. For a handful of seconds which seemed to have gone by in lifetimes, his senses slowly began to return to him. Firstly, his nose perked as the wretched aroma of filth and disgust filled his lungs. Arthur coughed heavily, as fresh blood escaped his lips and ran down his chin, dripping on the cold stone floor below him. The terrible smell was a mixture of his own battered self, as well as the stench of bubbling concoctions brewing in a cauldron up on a stone platform against the north wall of the room. Arthur's sight slowly began to regain it's bearings as he could make out shapes of the dungeon he found himself in. What caught his attention at first was a sacrificial altar made of marble and decorated with various twisted and gnarled demonic engravings along the edges. The rectangular table was large enough to fit a person's body, and to his surprise, his beloved Guinevere lay seemingly unconscious on the table, strapped down by barb-studded leather. The tightness of the straps through her skin caused many lesions and gashes that allowed her precious innocent blood to trickle down and pool beneath her as she lay vulnerable to the terrors that soon awaited. The mere movement of any part of her body, even rising her chest to breath would cause unbearable pain and digging of the barbs into her skin. Arthur could see dried tears and blood cryptically coloring her face in an expression of pure anguish. Suddenly, his sense of pain returned as he felt his own wounds open and close with each breath of the poisonous air, ripping the clots and freshening the supply of pooled redness below him. He tried to shout in terror, but was unable, due to his tongue being cut out, and his mouth filled with the taste of warm iron. Arthur had been bound and tied to a wooden post overlooking the altar where Guinevere lay. It was a ghastly room, that was dark and suspiciously quiet other than the occasional whimpering of the humiliated king and queen. The cobble stone walls were complete with dead vines and moss growing all over ancient demonic writings and engravings that littered the walls on all sides. Torches lit the room, as the fire flickered and barely illuminated their sinister surroundings. The only way in or out was through an iron studded wooden door that seemed to lead to a staircase going up... Signifying that possibly they were somewhere underground, in a room designated for dark blood rituals. Unfortunately for Arthur, nearly every bone in his body felt as if it were fractured as he sat vulnerable and paralyzed fighting to remember how and why he and Guinevere could have ended up in an evil place such as this. Lastly, his hearing began to fade in and out as he listened to footsteps on the other side of the door grow louder as they suddenly stopped. The metal handle turned, as the wood creaked and an entrance was made. Out from the darkness of the spiraled stairwell, stepped Merlin . Arthur new that the wizard, his former trainer, had always been plagued with issues concerning his thirst for power and dominance. However, it was clear that he has changed, his demeanor taking a turn for the worse. His once conflicted eyes had now displayed a message of pure evil as his gaze upon Arthur felt as if it were piercing into the depths of his very soul. The black robe Merlin wore raked across the ground as the tangled and gnarled wand slowly pointed toward the desperate king. A grim smile from Merlin was seen as he spoke in a dark and twisted voice, almost as if it were two voices meshed into one. Arthur, my boy... The time of your reign is over. Your destiny now, is to serve me. Merlin stated, as a feint red glow began to take form, swirling around the tip of his wand. ...Death....First... Arthur managed to cough out, using the last bit of energy he had to retaliate in defiance. His sound was weak and pathetic, as his mutilated tongue made it impossible for him to speak properly. Hm hm hm hm..... Merlin chuckled, That is the plan, of course. Not even death will grant you salvation now. Once the ritual is complete, you will serve me even as a tainted and unholy undead abomination. Arthur barely managed to hear the last part of Merlin's response as his eyes became heavy once more. He drifted back into unconsciousness briefly as his mind began to reflect on recent events, a dream of sorts, detailing a cloudy memory of the past. The pain and fear of his imminent death had tunneled into the back of his mind once again, as just a few moments of reminiscing seemed like ages to his now pseudo-lucid brain.