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03-28-2017, 09:10 PM
(This post was last modified: 03-28-2017, 09:15 PM by Mortuus Nox.)
You can have your very own
Devil at the cross roads
Devil at the cross roads
The air was crisp and cool on this summer day. Velvet nostrils took in each breath with a slowed drawl. Closing deep gray eyes the demon let the world possess his body. The birds chirping turned into a clatter of laughter, the breeze in the trees turned into a sound of shackles against stone walls. Earth was living hell for the beast. He was damned to eternity on this godforsaken planet. He had to walk the earth for eternity while others passed away and died peaceful or dreadful deaths. Then in a moment, everything came to a halt. The laughter of the birds fell silent, the shackles of the trees grew to a standstill. Someone was near.
Bringing his mind back to the present day, gray eyes opened. They were dead and cold to the world around him. Maybe if someone knew what the haunting beast went through, they would understand his frozen appeal. The brute focused on the land around him. Keen eyes quickly picked up the movements of two creatures in the distance. Cracked hooves began to move under his heavy weight. Think rippling muscles contracted and relaxed over bones below. His scar-laced pelt glimmered with an eerie dull glow under the sun's rays. Finally, the beast stood in front of the man wading in their hot spring. His brow raised slightly looking at the stallion enjoying himself. Tilting his head with a slight cock of his demonic skull his cold, dead, heartless gaze watched the man.
For a moment Nox was silent, not a single word slipped from his mouth. The heathen looked to the painted girl that he stood next to. He was growing fond of her, and she seemed to be a great addition to the Basin. Thick tresses of his tangled tail flicked against his blackened haunches. Strands of his mane webbed together, cloaking his neck in a gauzed hood of the reaper's residing in the pits of hell. Finally, the man spoke with deep rumbling words"Hello Weaver, it is wonderful to see you again. Who is your friend?" His voice dripped from his maw like crimson blood. Each letter was laced in a deep Latin accent. The language of the dead, and a dead language that not many speak in Helovia. "I am Mortuus Nox, a Time Mender for the Basin." His demonic skull hung in a ghostly manner waiting to see what these two were up too.
"Talk."
@Weaver
Please tag Mortuus Nox in all posts
magic & permanent injury is permitted excluding death.
