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[RP] Into The Fire

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Guthix SS4

Guthix SS4

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Kuro's eyes now sprang open, obviously had felt this he had waken, "No...you don't. You wont get away."

Kuro trying to focus knowing all to well if this power gets away, Azul will reek havoc once more and he wouldn't allow that to happen. Kuro feeling a bit uneasy he doesn't go for his sword instead focusing on the power he once had. "I spent a quite a while learning how to use this power....I will not let you escape. " Kuro trying to pull it back, hoping it wasn't too late to stop this.
and nothing was spoiled :P

08-Feb-2016 03:17:33

Annie1227
Jul Member 2011

Annie1227

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Annie woke up from all the commotion. She saw that Azul had come back to life. She shot an Energy ball at the demon hoping to hit it to make it weak. She was shocked that of this power because she never knew she had this power.

Judy stood there in shock that she got caught and what just happened. Before they can ask questions she ran down the stairs so she can escape in the commotion.
-Dances-

08-Feb-2016 03:42:39 - Last edited on 20-Feb-2016 03:42:04 by Annie1227

Azigarath

Azigarath

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Bowels of the Earth

The New came from the forgotten past, and the Old came from the unknown future; how this formed is anybody's guess. Despite the hulking beast's immensity, it moved quite fast, infinitely eager to accomplish the goals its true master of the future wished to conclude. Spirry watched the beast ascend.

“Well, my big friend, I was expecting more of a chat.” Spirry remarked; not like the big bug could hear him.

But this Black, this growing darkness, it felt so similar to Spirry's past experiences, yet was different; quite a coincidence that two forms of ethereal blackness from different realms could be used in the same manner. Now, a clock against the future counted down, if it could be stopped.

“I dreamed that destruction was I, my dream as destruction, and now, I am awake. The Black will be the new Hell.” Spirry pondered to himself, regaining more memories of his past; the Black seemed to empower his sorcery.

08-Feb-2016 04:21:51

Azigarath

Azigarath

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He recalled how Alicia rebuked him, having mistaken her for a demon for whatever reason, but then there was Alania, the woman who offered him help. Although he did not seem to have noticed her, he did remember her proposal. But then Charles popped in his head, a man he disliked, a man he felt was afraid of pain. He wanted to find Alania again, to repay her friendship somehow. He could feel her thoughts, he would eventually regroup with her. Next time, though, her friends would have a chance to react; he would not fly away this time!

But where was Alania now? Last Spirry heard, she would go off to meet the Decan. He heard the giant arachnid going towards the surface, sounding like an earthquake. The big fella was like a giant smoky cockroach, capable of squeezing through just about anything. It was undoubtedly capable of strange magics as well.

Spirry concentrated, and his body began to disintegrate; his flesh gradually liquefied, becoming a mass of bubbling blood in his image, making him resemble a demonic skeleton made of boiling blood. His body then hovered and flew upwards as red steam, and behaving like condensation, he would travel through the earth as vapour. Then, the next odd thing happened: his vapour transformed into thoughts, like a mental picture, and now he could traverse the world of minds.

08-Feb-2016 04:22:01

Azigarath

Azigarath

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Playroom – A dream for Alania, Alicia, Sir Charles, Kat, Mugwo, Kuro/Azul, Ryokin, Annie, Kira, Soahc, etc., w/e, and anyone else who is interested; the dream may be being noticed by other beings of divine, demonic, or magical nature or abilities, to those who accept to see the dream

Having morphed into an otherworldly form, like a dream capable of becoming reality, Spirry had flashbacks of his past, of a world he left behind, long ago, or perhaps it was a foreshadowing, a vision, of what was to come? He wanted to share something very special with Alania, though this vision also projects for those close to Alania, as well as to the divine, and the demonic, in nature or form. If they felt this, and became interested, they would be granted the vision, though it would not interfere with the time they were currently at.

The dream, it sounded like a xylophone? That's what was heard; a divine child was playing a xylophone amidst shadows. And then, blackness came, as well as the sound of drilling, wet cracking, squishing, distant echoes of squealing children, screeching, wet footfall, squeaky toys, the wailing of babies, ripping, giggling, chuckling, crying, pretentious laughing; all of this formed into a polyphonic cacophony.

There was an endless labyrinth, but not made from walls, instead made of multple maze-like arrays of criss-crossing steel bars, like twirling grills. Behind the grills were prisoners, soaked in the Black, people, animals and beings of all races, shapes and sizes, everyone of torn appearance, so numerous that people were pressed against one another. Arms, noses, jaws and legs stuck out from between the bars, the occupants doing anything they could to escape even though it was impossible, trying to squeeze through the bars and grills. The strange configuration, an endless realm of intertwining dungeons, lost in an abyss of eternal Black.

08-Feb-2016 04:40:48 - Last edited on 08-Feb-2016 04:43:25 by Azigarath

Azigarath

Azigarath

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Then, light came, red light shining down from suspended lightbulbs. The prisoners often fought to be in the spotlights shining onto the floor, moments of grimaces and suffering flashing at every moment: grabbing, scratching, biting, eye-gouging, spitting, screaming, moaning and hating each and every second of existence.

Skin was ripped and torn apart, flesh, bones, nerves, organs and muscles exposed, blood and sweat mingled and always leaking, always pooling for the dancers to drench themselves in; there was no way to see the floor, it was covered with macabre, blood spilling and flowing constantly in all directions. The morbid dancing splashed blood onto the bars and the floor of the dungeon. The blood became wild streams.

Some people and beings tried to climb the walls of the dungeon, to reach the openings up above in the grills, for there were always openings within the walls of intertwining bars, but they only led to the echoing of suffering from beyond, elsewhere in this place, and there was not a single second when that echoing would cease.

But those openings were only a conceptual horizon of hope: ladders of limbs were assembled, piles of body parts and dismembers limbs that kept twitching, but every time someone managed to climb near any openings, the ladders groaned and shook, fell apart, to start over again, for no-one wanted anyone else to escape but only oneself. Even families were here, and despite the great love families have for themselves, fathers fought sons, mothers fought daughters, fighting each other to reach the openings of climb the ladders made of wriggling body parts.

In one corner was piled a stack of skeletons: spines, ribcages, skulls and bones entangled, many still having a little muscles, a little tendons, some flesh and skin, most skulls still with eyeballs rolling about in panic, for death was non-existent here, and non-existence was not true.

08-Feb-2016 04:41:25

Azigarath

Azigarath

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Even in death, the corpses asunder felt death, felt every moment of growing pain, for pain was a machine driving agony to every piece of meat and bone for all individuals. Some were eaten alive in such an odd state, passed through stomachs and feeling digestion.

Suicide was a constant miracle to be offered to all within the prison, and many tried to kill themselves by self-cannibalization, gnawing mouthfuls of meat and ripping it off their arms and legs, peeling their stomachs open, grasping their guts and ramming it into their mandibles, doing anything to kill themselves, but death was not here, none could die, for all are one with agony for all time. Others ripped open their own bellies using bones as hooks, pulling out their intestines, livers, kidney, spleen, bladder, and devouring them mouthful by mouthful, feeling the wet, slimy organs wiggling in their mouths, slipping down their throats, and then plopping back inside their torn bellies.

Hanging down, rising up, or arching from the side, wiggling in-between the bars like snakes of metal, writhed lengths of mechanical things, which would lash, whip, and flick into people, or sometimes grab them to carrying them away, pulling them through the bars (that is, what was left of them upon their bones breaking, bodies becoming mangled as they passed through the grills), where they would then vanish into the Blackness.

Sometimes, the sufferers tried to climb by grabbing onto the lengths of machines, only to lose a few fingers or worse; one fellow was hooked through the shoulders, lifted up, and ripped open everywhere, and when his loosened body fell down, people underneath ate his flesh, warm meat ripped off bones.

But how big was this chasm? Big enough to house hundreds of thousands of people. It was quite loud, so loud with so much suffering and working machinery that there was nothing else to be heard. This chasm was one abattoir out of many, an endless prison.

08-Feb-2016 04:41:45

Azigarath

Azigarath

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Down below, redness pulsated; a sea of blood was forming, for all blood and smaller pieces of flesh eventually leaked down, forming a giant pool, far, far below, dripping echoing, sounding like leaking sewers.

“Well, that's a lot of blood.” Spirry remarked as if he told himself a good joke, chuckling heartily, feeling the river of blood flowing through his toes; he stood somewhere amidst the dungeon, and turned around, looking at the dreamer, you, and he clasped his hands behind his back.

Spirry walked down the passage between the twisting and intertwining bars, tail and skinless feet flushed by blood and always bleeding. Oh yes, there was an overabundance of blood in this scenery, of the same extent that there was an overabundance of screaming and crying from the prisoners trapped at either side of the skinless demon, who walked casually and freely, tips of his wings sliding along the exposed faces and limbs of the prisoners trying to squeeze their way through the bars. Some prisoners grabbed the wings as to pull themselves free, but even the creature's wings were skinned, and hands slid off the bloodily wet frames.

For his own amusement, Spirry folded his wings behind himself, and outstretched an arm, walking alongside the bars to his right and sliding his hand across the arms and faces poking through the bars, claws cutting flesh open easily. Spirry looked happy to do that, and stopped before the dreamer, so close that you could feel him breathing over your face.

His eye sockets and insides were filled with tendrils of machinery, tendons, veins, arteries, intestines, muscles and bones constantly being grinded by working machines, which pinched, ripped, hooked, cut, and drilled through him, but his body regrew so fast, so quickly, to keep the torture going. The machinery even screeched, wheezing and steaming, some joints red-hot from friction, burning flesh.

08-Feb-2016 04:41:53

Azigarath

Azigarath

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Mechanical snake-like things arose in all directions, seemingly rising from the Black that was everywhere. Oddly enough, although there was no light, everything could be seen, as if imagined, so that those who lost their eyeballs, still had a mental picture of everything going on. Everyone could know the thoughts and feelings of those everywhere, so that they knew all the deeds and evils everyone had done, which fuelled their hatred for themselves and everyone around them. The first torture, the greatest torture, was the prospect of eternity like this.

“My body is weak to pure magic, a powerful necromancer could command my skeleton, and holy fire can burn me unto healed, but... Look at everything. This is what it sounded like when god created the world!” Spirry exclaimed; high-pitched drilling sounded, echoing across the realm for a few seconds, though why did he just reveal his biggest weaknesses?

Down below, red-hot chains, gears, pistons, rotaries, drills, pumps, and clockwork-like contraptions arose from the sea of blood, causing it to bubble. The unusual jigsaw-like floor of intertwining nearly-melting machinery rose slowly, gradually rising, to eventually demolish the strange labyrinth, part by part, and those in it.

It could be seen that spinning columns, covered with mechanical chains that spun around like carousel, arose, resembling mechanical skeletons, like an array of spines, arms, legs, rib cages, hip bones, and collar bones around a central giant spinal cord, ending in a metal skull. These columns seemed alive, the metal skeletons moving around and around while twitching and flicking their limbs, joints and parts constantly greased by dripping blood.

08-Feb-2016 04:42:08

Azigarath

Azigarath

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The metal skeletons seemed to be collecting flesh and body parts that fell from above, splatting it onto themselves, and the tissue stuck and then began growing, gradually covering the metal skeletons in meat, even growing into giant hearts, bones, stomachs, livers, spleens, bladders, guts, muscles, nerves, lungs, eyeballs and brains, as if flesh and metal formed into a single form. Oddly enough, this metallic flesh did not burn away, even that it was growing on red-hot iron, smoking and sizzling wildly, it remained wet and squishy, refusing to blacken.

Some people sat up, having been inside the blood, raising their heads and shoulders, breathing rapidly and lightly, sitting in boiling blood while thin lengths of machinery slid into them, grinding them from within, and then slowly peeling and pulling them apart; faces, lungs, guts and limbs became asunder and still twitched in agony. One of the metal skeletons turned, and began grasping the people who sat up, ripping off limbs and chunks, to build themselves with the flesh they had taken.

The sound of the working machinery was deafening, louder than the suffering and boiling blood, and the sufferers wailed with greater vigour and hatred, knowing that, as bad as their lives were, it was about to get even worse. The bodies would slowly be reused to build other monsters, and the constant state of being undead prevented death, yet pain did not end, it was always present no matter how many pieces a person became.

Spirry leaned over, bending his knees, and loosely spread his arms, keeping the elbows bent, acting like a child awaiting a present, mouth opening and closing rapidly so that the teeth clicked together, the machinery inside his body working away, his flesh constantly being mangled from within and regrowing to keep that going.

08-Feb-2016 04:42:19

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