01-27-2018, 07:57 AM
Evangeline recoiled at the stench emanating from the heretic, taking a step backward not out of fear or intimidation, but out of revulsion. However, once she looked past her disgust she erupted into a bout of laughter. Despite her adorable visage the cackle she released was hideous. Hysterical, punctuated with a malice and fanaticism that radiated from the very core of her being.
"I take it the cultists are your doing, heretic?" she said after regaining her composure, a deeply amused, almost manic expression upon her features.
"Of course," the bubonic beast boasted, misplaced mirth decidedly out of place upon his rotting visage, leprous lips twisting themselves into a foul mockery of a smile. "The only thing worse than a false God is a false Daemon, dear sister. I gave them a choice: to stand by helplessly and allow all that they knew burn, or to seize their own... lives, and turn all the rot and ruin I have to offer into their own Salvation. They have found strength in their suffering, Sister."
Evangeline could barely believe her ears. An apostate from a traitor legion no less, cut off from his Plague Lord as much as she was from her emperor, in a land so fertile for the likes of him had done little more that start a small cult. The Great Enemy had grown soft. "You complain about the abomination who owns these realms, yet you defend them when invaded?" She said with condescension "And now you beg for help from the daughter of one you betrayed." Her expression turned to one of utter disgust. "How pathetic you are." She spat venomously.
"I do not beg, dear sister." Okor replied with an, if anything, amused inflection at the indignity of the small frame before him. "I know what makes you tick. The rusted, broken clockwork of your soul. It will permit no master but the Emperor, and you will remind this accursed Omni of that fact."
"Perhaps. If everything you've said is true." Evangeline replied with a haughty dismissive cadence. "But do not mistake for a moment that I consider the enemy of my enemy an ally. The 'smiling one' and even your Plague Lord are slaves to their nature. I hate them, sure, but not like I do an apostate, not like you." Her eyes began to burn with spite. "You who had the spark of humanity and sacrificed it for some short sighted benefit or misplaced loyalty. I hate you with every fiber of my being, heretic. That will not change"
"Good. This realm steals a piece of yourself with each breath, it obliterates all meaning. Were we still where we belong, we would happily give our lives to slay the other. But here? Death is but... a wistful dream," he snarled, corroded claws clenching into fists. "There is no End in this maddening place. How many times will we clash blades before you realize we have but one true foe? Omni thinks us puppets dancing upon his shimmering strings. How long will it be until you decide to cut them?"
"Insight and Prophecy aren't your domains apostate.” She replied venomiously. The novelty of a heretic in her presence had quickly begun lost its appeal until her only feeling left to her in that moment was utter revulsion. “I tire of this, kill me or release me, but do not make me suffer your visage a moment longer."
"This is not Prophecy, my dear Sister. This is... experience.” Okor said thoughtfully. His decrepit extremities began moving slowly and methodically as he explained in an almost mystical cadence. “I have seen the wheels of time turn again, and again. I forged the Impeirum of your False God, built it upon the blood and bones of my brothers. There is a limit to how many Mortals one can meet, before seeing the patterns.” The cycloptic helm covering his face tilted slightly as he regarded the sister, trapped as she was in a childish form. “As... Impressive as you might be, I have walked the battlefields of our home long enough to know that none of us are unique. But now, we are: The emissaries of a realm of endless war and hate, forced into a world of unscarred and untested beings. We will meet again, oh Sister.” His mouth curled up into a wretched smile, all the hate and malice he had claimed to has lost seemingly radiated from between his rotten teeth. “And when we do, The Smiling One and all his slaves shall tremble in fear."
Glowing green, toxic looking tendrils erupted from the ground around Okor’s feet and encircled him like the petals of a diseased flower. They quickly closed around him, ensconcing him in their dangerous light before dragging him into the floor.
***
Evangeline woke with a start, an afterimage of Okor’s corrupted smile left upon her retina as she looked around the masonry of her room. She was still covered in a towel, still in the mediation position she was in as she tried to will the Omilium into form. She clutched her chest as she gasped for breath.
Looking down at the bed a fresh shield robe had been formed. Before she had even settled down she tore the towel from her body and donned the garment. Evangeline did not know how things would play out between her and the ruler of this realm, but her worst fears about the plague that threatened to consume the bodies and souls of the denizens of the moor were confirmed, and she would need more than a Lasgun and a Power Sword to save them.
"I take it the cultists are your doing, heretic?" she said after regaining her composure, a deeply amused, almost manic expression upon her features.
"Of course," the bubonic beast boasted, misplaced mirth decidedly out of place upon his rotting visage, leprous lips twisting themselves into a foul mockery of a smile. "The only thing worse than a false God is a false Daemon, dear sister. I gave them a choice: to stand by helplessly and allow all that they knew burn, or to seize their own... lives, and turn all the rot and ruin I have to offer into their own Salvation. They have found strength in their suffering, Sister."
Evangeline could barely believe her ears. An apostate from a traitor legion no less, cut off from his Plague Lord as much as she was from her emperor, in a land so fertile for the likes of him had done little more that start a small cult. The Great Enemy had grown soft. "You complain about the abomination who owns these realms, yet you defend them when invaded?" She said with condescension "And now you beg for help from the daughter of one you betrayed." Her expression turned to one of utter disgust. "How pathetic you are." She spat venomously.
"I do not beg, dear sister." Okor replied with an, if anything, amused inflection at the indignity of the small frame before him. "I know what makes you tick. The rusted, broken clockwork of your soul. It will permit no master but the Emperor, and you will remind this accursed Omni of that fact."
"Perhaps. If everything you've said is true." Evangeline replied with a haughty dismissive cadence. "But do not mistake for a moment that I consider the enemy of my enemy an ally. The 'smiling one' and even your Plague Lord are slaves to their nature. I hate them, sure, but not like I do an apostate, not like you." Her eyes began to burn with spite. "You who had the spark of humanity and sacrificed it for some short sighted benefit or misplaced loyalty. I hate you with every fiber of my being, heretic. That will not change"
"Good. This realm steals a piece of yourself with each breath, it obliterates all meaning. Were we still where we belong, we would happily give our lives to slay the other. But here? Death is but... a wistful dream," he snarled, corroded claws clenching into fists. "There is no End in this maddening place. How many times will we clash blades before you realize we have but one true foe? Omni thinks us puppets dancing upon his shimmering strings. How long will it be until you decide to cut them?"
"Insight and Prophecy aren't your domains apostate.” She replied venomiously. The novelty of a heretic in her presence had quickly begun lost its appeal until her only feeling left to her in that moment was utter revulsion. “I tire of this, kill me or release me, but do not make me suffer your visage a moment longer."
"This is not Prophecy, my dear Sister. This is... experience.” Okor said thoughtfully. His decrepit extremities began moving slowly and methodically as he explained in an almost mystical cadence. “I have seen the wheels of time turn again, and again. I forged the Impeirum of your False God, built it upon the blood and bones of my brothers. There is a limit to how many Mortals one can meet, before seeing the patterns.” The cycloptic helm covering his face tilted slightly as he regarded the sister, trapped as she was in a childish form. “As... Impressive as you might be, I have walked the battlefields of our home long enough to know that none of us are unique. But now, we are: The emissaries of a realm of endless war and hate, forced into a world of unscarred and untested beings. We will meet again, oh Sister.” His mouth curled up into a wretched smile, all the hate and malice he had claimed to has lost seemingly radiated from between his rotten teeth. “And when we do, The Smiling One and all his slaves shall tremble in fear."
Glowing green, toxic looking tendrils erupted from the ground around Okor’s feet and encircled him like the petals of a diseased flower. They quickly closed around him, ensconcing him in their dangerous light before dragging him into the floor.
***
Evangeline woke with a start, an afterimage of Okor’s corrupted smile left upon her retina as she looked around the masonry of her room. She was still covered in a towel, still in the mediation position she was in as she tried to will the Omilium into form. She clutched her chest as she gasped for breath.
Looking down at the bed a fresh shield robe had been formed. Before she had even settled down she tore the towel from her body and donned the garment. Evangeline did not know how things would play out between her and the ruler of this realm, but her worst fears about the plague that threatened to consume the bodies and souls of the denizens of the moor were confirmed, and she would need more than a Lasgun and a Power Sword to save them.