06-02-2019, 04:48 PM
/Permission given by Kliment's player to destroy in preperation for the move c;
the king is dead, long live the king,
the sun starts to set across the desert land and the hush of night begins to beckon, as the last of the light's rays kiss the ruby embedded in the temple walls like the glittering eyes of countless birds perched in its rafters - the temple is white bleached stone, smooth and pure.
but underneath it ?
beneath the sands, stretching to the wastes lies a darker sanctum - an older, ancient sanctum, so deep, so old and so cold away from the light's rays that ice can be seen on its ancient architecture.
walls of eldritch obsidian stone and gold etched in a language no one living knows - one striking depiction is of a strange three headed beast - in black, in white and in gold - feared and yet revered, depicted atop a tribute of corpses.
something stirs in the darkness of this ancient worship.
this place was once flooded to ensure it's death - and then frozen over underneath the masses of cold sands.
the ice has melted and a heartbeat echoes off of walls older than any existing human civilisation known to record.
in the darkness, red eyes slide open.
....
the temples sh a t t e r
something old, ancient and hungry erupts, writhing from the depths of the forgotten city, breaking past new and old architecture, the heart of the darkness where he rested revealed to the world like an egg broken wide open, the guts of its yolk revealed in ancient ebony structures below - a chilling cackling roar announcing the entrance of an old forgotten god.
the devil has three heads and each is adorned with spires of white and eyes of blood red set with pupils of the cores of white stars burning.
the night is suddenly alive with screaming as few that were flee the crumbling temples and crimson streaks of lightning cut a few off before black monstrous teeth snap down upon them for the corpse god is ravenous and there has been no leaving of dead in tribute to his hunger this time (they do not care, they will eat the living if they have failed to pay them what is owed to keep the devil satisfied)
wings of black bone and alabaster unfurl wide and proud from a body of rotting-like golden-black and corpse pale hues - The dread wing, the exile of his kin - the king of corpses, the rotting god they hailed him and knew his form for despair in endless glory.
Akane Ghidorah first and only of his type looked down upon the scurrying residents of a once magnificent monolith and knew the world to be changed from his cage - the mandibles of the right flare outwards from pale cheeks as it hums interest while the left's lower jaw splits to below a cackling cry and a fork of crimson lightning struck one of the pillars and sent it tumbling away, the foremost middle leans upwards tongue forking out like a snake and smiles a grin of pitch teeth.
ah, a new age for new opportunities they thought, shifting as wings folded back to grip the ground and the serpentine plated form of the triple headed king almost seemed to slither down the crumbling steps - curious of who's doorstep they have seemingly ruined (ah, too bad, but you should know better than to build upon the temples of sleeping gods no?) the statues of egyptian make crumbling behind him (and you shall worship no false idols before me, all hail the king in exile)
the king is dead, long live the king,
the sun starts to set across the desert land and the hush of night begins to beckon, as the last of the light's rays kiss the ruby embedded in the temple walls like the glittering eyes of countless birds perched in its rafters - the temple is white bleached stone, smooth and pure.
but underneath it ?
beneath the sands, stretching to the wastes lies a darker sanctum - an older, ancient sanctum, so deep, so old and so cold away from the light's rays that ice can be seen on its ancient architecture.
walls of eldritch obsidian stone and gold etched in a language no one living knows - one striking depiction is of a strange three headed beast - in black, in white and in gold - feared and yet revered, depicted atop a tribute of corpses.
something stirs in the darkness of this ancient worship.
this place was once flooded to ensure it's death - and then frozen over underneath the masses of cold sands.
the ice has melted and a heartbeat echoes off of walls older than any existing human civilisation known to record.
in the darkness, red eyes slide open.
....
the temples sh a t t e r
something old, ancient and hungry erupts, writhing from the depths of the forgotten city, breaking past new and old architecture, the heart of the darkness where he rested revealed to the world like an egg broken wide open, the guts of its yolk revealed in ancient ebony structures below - a chilling cackling roar announcing the entrance of an old forgotten god.
the devil has three heads and each is adorned with spires of white and eyes of blood red set with pupils of the cores of white stars burning.
the night is suddenly alive with screaming as few that were flee the crumbling temples and crimson streaks of lightning cut a few off before black monstrous teeth snap down upon them for the corpse god is ravenous and there has been no leaving of dead in tribute to his hunger this time (they do not care, they will eat the living if they have failed to pay them what is owed to keep the devil satisfied)
wings of black bone and alabaster unfurl wide and proud from a body of rotting-like golden-black and corpse pale hues - The dread wing, the exile of his kin - the king of corpses, the rotting god they hailed him and knew his form for despair in endless glory.
Akane Ghidorah first and only of his type looked down upon the scurrying residents of a once magnificent monolith and knew the world to be changed from his cage - the mandibles of the right flare outwards from pale cheeks as it hums interest while the left's lower jaw splits to below a cackling cry and a fork of crimson lightning struck one of the pillars and sent it tumbling away, the foremost middle leans upwards tongue forking out like a snake and smiles a grin of pitch teeth.
ah, a new age for new opportunities they thought, shifting as wings folded back to grip the ground and the serpentine plated form of the triple headed king almost seemed to slither down the crumbling steps - curious of who's doorstep they have seemingly ruined (ah, too bad, but you should know better than to build upon the temples of sleeping gods no?) the statues of egyptian make crumbling behind him (and you shall worship no false idols before me, all hail the king in exile)
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[align=center][div style="font-size:20pt;line-height:.9;color:#000;font-family:impact;padding:8px;letter-spacing:1.2px"]「 NO MORE DEAD HEROES 」[div style="width:360px;font-size:8pt;line-height:1.2;color:#000;font-family:arial;margin-top:2px;margin-bottom:5px;letter-spacing:0px;margin-left:0px;text-align:justify"]WE ALL HAVE ONE FOOT IN A FAIRYTALE, ——————— AND THE OTHER IN THE ABYSS. |
[align=center][div style="font-size:20pt;line-height:.9;color:#000;font-family:impact;padding:8px;letter-spacing:1.2px"]「 NO MORE DEAD HEROES 」[div style="width:360px;font-size:8pt;line-height:1.2;color:#000;font-family:arial;margin-top:2px;margin-bottom:5px;letter-spacing:0px;margin-left:0px;text-align:justify"]WE ALL HAVE ONE FOOT IN A FAIRYTALE, ——————— AND THE OTHER IN THE ABYSS. |