12-12-2017, 02:48 PM
(This post was last modified: 12-13-2017, 02:22 PM by Okor.
Edit Reason: Broken tag.
)
None were ever truly alone in the Omniverse. Omni watched over all, his puppets dancing on shining strings of Omnillium. Not even dreams could free one of his prisoners from his attentions, the Smiling One’s eternal grin shining down on them even when one fled to another unreality for refuge.
Not even dreams offered safety. If Omni could find his fancies within the aether, then Okor would do the same. He walked the land of the unwaking, a wraith forged of corpse-gas and corroded steel. A gauntlet animated by ethereal flesh dragged through the stuff of dreams, leaving the aether tainted and twisted in his wake. The Astral ‘verse reeked of corruption and cancer, an aura of pestilence not perpetuated by the plague marine permeating the atmosphere.
The ravenous wraith glided over a collection of crystalline orbs, each demi-dimension reflecting a dreamer’s thoughts; scenes of passion, nightmares of blood and fire, surreal landscapes. All the madness and ambition a being could muster were poured into these spheres, fears and triumphs recounted eternally. Corrupted claws slid over these spheres, a fiery eye staring into their depths as he sought the one that had caught his attention.
It lay before him, a black pearl filled to the brim with black tumours and dreams turned dark and sour. His claws ran over it, carving leylines into the surface of the globe, unhallowed markings marring its sable surface. Green flame burned across his armoured visage, fangs of fire blossoming into a smile. His ephemeral form dissipated, wisps of tainted energies slipping inside the dreamer’s mind.
Whatever Okor had expected when he entered this strange realm of unreality, it was not this. A tide of lost souls surged forward, men, women, children, each of them bearing the wounds that laid them low. A carrion bird squawked and screeched, desperately keeping itself aloft over the unliving tide, pitch-black pinions flapping frantically. A single figure stood stoically amidst the endless horde of the fallen, hooded and hidden amongst the thousand fallen surging around his stationary position.
What kind of mind was this? It was diseased, sick, ravenous with hunger. Yet here it was, assailed by those left in its ruinous wake, a mere scavenger surrounded by… guilt?
Okor descended in a stream of sickly smoke, green wisps of toxin seeping into the corpses stumbling towards the raven. Some of them were already bleeding together, vague memories of fear, hate, and pain amalgamating into abominations of grief and agony. Flesh and bone was forced together as this immaterial invader made his presence known, the tide of guilt-induced nightmares stalling as they were pulled back towards the gangrenous giant, absorbed into its growing mass.
Fingers formed of the flesh of the fallen grasped at the earth, a torso stitched together from a hundred corpses rising from the ground, a single horn rising from a cyclopean visage as it stared out at the two entities who had resisted its arrival. Raw Omillium and force of will had drawn the dead together, and in the darkness, it had bound them together into a form worthy of Okor’s arrival.
The raven and the man glared at the newcomer. The scavenger was a beast for whom fear was a foreign concept, while the man was long past the point of fear. For the moment, they were united in annoyance, curiosity, and confusion: Something had breached the sanctum of their mind. Okor paid it little notice: Gods know he was in no state to mock another’s mental state.
The gangrenous giant’s jaw opened, flaps of festering flesh barely holding together as it spoke.
”Oh, bubonic beast, end of men, death of civilization. You, who are entropy in an ageless land.” The amalgamation leaned forwards, white vitae spilling forth from between teeth forged of errant, shattered bones. ”I am Paleblood. And you are so delightfully sick,” he spoke, raising a palm towards the sky, corruption and contagion alike coalescing in his hand.
His malformed maw, assembled from an amalgamation of the fallen, split itself into a sickly smile. [b][i]”Precious few come to this Prison so blessed with blight.” He spread his arms wide across the nothingness.
”Ask your questions of this cursed realm, new-blood.”
Not even dreams offered safety. If Omni could find his fancies within the aether, then Okor would do the same. He walked the land of the unwaking, a wraith forged of corpse-gas and corroded steel. A gauntlet animated by ethereal flesh dragged through the stuff of dreams, leaving the aether tainted and twisted in his wake. The Astral ‘verse reeked of corruption and cancer, an aura of pestilence not perpetuated by the plague marine permeating the atmosphere.
The ravenous wraith glided over a collection of crystalline orbs, each demi-dimension reflecting a dreamer’s thoughts; scenes of passion, nightmares of blood and fire, surreal landscapes. All the madness and ambition a being could muster were poured into these spheres, fears and triumphs recounted eternally. Corrupted claws slid over these spheres, a fiery eye staring into their depths as he sought the one that had caught his attention.
It lay before him, a black pearl filled to the brim with black tumours and dreams turned dark and sour. His claws ran over it, carving leylines into the surface of the globe, unhallowed markings marring its sable surface. Green flame burned across his armoured visage, fangs of fire blossoming into a smile. His ephemeral form dissipated, wisps of tainted energies slipping inside the dreamer’s mind.
***
Whatever Okor had expected when he entered this strange realm of unreality, it was not this. A tide of lost souls surged forward, men, women, children, each of them bearing the wounds that laid them low. A carrion bird squawked and screeched, desperately keeping itself aloft over the unliving tide, pitch-black pinions flapping frantically. A single figure stood stoically amidst the endless horde of the fallen, hooded and hidden amongst the thousand fallen surging around his stationary position.
What kind of mind was this? It was diseased, sick, ravenous with hunger. Yet here it was, assailed by those left in its ruinous wake, a mere scavenger surrounded by… guilt?
Okor descended in a stream of sickly smoke, green wisps of toxin seeping into the corpses stumbling towards the raven. Some of them were already bleeding together, vague memories of fear, hate, and pain amalgamating into abominations of grief and agony. Flesh and bone was forced together as this immaterial invader made his presence known, the tide of guilt-induced nightmares stalling as they were pulled back towards the gangrenous giant, absorbed into its growing mass.
Fingers formed of the flesh of the fallen grasped at the earth, a torso stitched together from a hundred corpses rising from the ground, a single horn rising from a cyclopean visage as it stared out at the two entities who had resisted its arrival. Raw Omillium and force of will had drawn the dead together, and in the darkness, it had bound them together into a form worthy of Okor’s arrival.
The raven and the man glared at the newcomer. The scavenger was a beast for whom fear was a foreign concept, while the man was long past the point of fear. For the moment, they were united in annoyance, curiosity, and confusion: Something had breached the sanctum of their mind. Okor paid it little notice: Gods know he was in no state to mock another’s mental state.
The gangrenous giant’s jaw opened, flaps of festering flesh barely holding together as it spoke.
”Oh, bubonic beast, end of men, death of civilization. You, who are entropy in an ageless land.” The amalgamation leaned forwards, white vitae spilling forth from between teeth forged of errant, shattered bones. ”I am Paleblood. And you are so delightfully sick,” he spoke, raising a palm towards the sky, corruption and contagion alike coalescing in his hand.
His malformed maw, assembled from an amalgamation of the fallen, split itself into a sickly smile. [b][i]”Precious few come to this Prison so blessed with blight.” He spread his arms wide across the nothingness.
”Ask your questions of this cursed realm, new-blood.”
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