Post by shadowedflesh on Mar 1, 2010 11:38:22 GMT -6
I wake beneath a pallid yellow sky, it shifts and writhes above me with no an eerie bile colored light. There is no sun in this place, just the glow of the sky, and the shimmering; the shimmering of the black sands on which I walk. I stand and feel that my body holds no more substance than smoke, that if I did not think to hold such a form that it would be swept away by an errant wind. Off in the distance there is a spire, it is a monolith in this desolate place of black sands. It stands there and seems to raise forever, turning in on itself again and again as it raises.
I begin my walk now in earnest, eyes closing against a harsh wind but I can still see the spire tower in my mind. The echoes of chants float on the winds that blow from that place, a rhythm that my heart begins to match as I walk. My vision shifts for a moment and I see myself as I walk, the man that walks is me but is not. He walks in black hooded robes, his skin ebony but ethereal and not in this place fully. Strong winds catch the robe he wears and nothing is beneath but the black. I am once again as I was, seeing through the eyes of what is now our body as we walk toward the spire and the chanting. The closer we get to the spire the louder the chanting becomes and it is no longer a chant but cries of lamentation and then adulation as we come closer.
Our right hand slowly raises, the cuff of the robe that had hidden the hand falling back and in our hand appears a staff. The staff is not jeweled but it is intricate and finely crafted as if years of care had went into its making. Atop the staff sat a crystal, it was large and writhing serpents seemed to coil around it, holding it in place. We continued our journey once more, eyes that saw not only flesh but deed moving over the prostrate masses that had gathered. Their city surrounded the spire, we knew they lived forever in its shadow. The scent of jasmine hung in the air and it did not please our senses, a movement of our left hand snuffing out the offending odor.
We walked through the crowd now, and came upon the entrance to the spire. At its entrance stood two beasts, they were brutes with the bodies of men but the heads of bulls. In their hands they hefted great axes, the black metal that crafted the curve of the blade glinting like the sands beneath the sky. Our left hand raised when the brutes lowered their axes and presumed to attack, words uttered in sweet whisper from our lips came then. The brutes stopped, a look of anger, pain, dismay as the sands beneath them erupted and tendrils of earth grasped them about the hoof and wrist dragging them to the sands and holding them prostrate before us.
Our hand lowered and we continued on past the entrance and now into the spire. It was cool in this place, along the walls there were braziers burning with a pallid green yellow flame that matched the skies above this spire. The walls and columns within were crafted of black marble, but there were no drawings, nothing to indicate what this room was for.
A door opened before us and we continued on, following the steps up and up until a door laid before us. On this door serpents writhed and hissed, their hooded forms snapping out angrily. For some reason this brought a smile to us and we hissed in return before pressing the staff gently to the stone door. The snakes above the staff hissed in turn as the serpents from the door slithered up the staff and took their place around the jewel that sat atop the staff and we continued on. As we entered the room there was a carpet, rich and soft beneath our un-sandled feet. There was no light within the room yet we could see and as our eyes looked around this new room we saw a vast trove of treasures. Their were stacks of jewels, of coins from all places, rubies, emeralds, jade and the like, and yet for all these treasures we did not crave them and continued on across the room to the stairs were we once again ascended and as we did the air became sweet, the scent of acacia teasing the air as a new door blocked our path. The door was simple, a recess within it perfect for the shape of our staff. A feeling of loss came over us as we pressed the staff into its place within the door, watching the door raise and vanish into the ceiling but we continued on.
The room we entered was lush beyond reasoning, the soft scent of acacia was coming from this place. A brazier in each corner of the room flickered quietly, giving light to the room. Heavy pillows were lain around a large circled carpet in the center of this room and our eyes took in the beauty of each crafted object. It was then the women came to the room, their bodies bare of clothing. They were lithe, their hair like spun midnight with curves that seemed to be made for the hands of men. Their voices were sweet and they called to us, beckoned us to join them as they lay on the pillows around the carpet in the center of the room.
It was then we drew back the hood of our robe, letting it fall were we stood. The women smiled to each other and offered their hands out but we raised our own and shook our head as we stepped to the carpet that was at the center of the pillows. As we looked down we saw the carpet, at first only seeing the deep amethyst of the rug but then the outlays of gold interwoven with black. As we looked closer we saw patterns, and our feet began to follow them. Slow at first we walked the patterns, tracing them from the outside, walking the edges as we slowly move inward toward the center. The women gasped and their breath sped all but one who watched with interest. As we continued on the path mist began to rise from the braziers, the smoke beginning to obscure the room around us; yet we continued following the path lain before us unable to stop.
It was then we saw the shining eyes in the black of the smoke, a feminine chuckle before the screams began. The screams were drown out as our concentration was solely now on the pattern. Following it quicker and quicker still as it became more intricate the closer to the center we came. Our feet found the center and a sudden wind swept through the room and all the women were gone save for the one. She smiled but spoke no words and stood, a drop of ruby clung from the corner of her mouth. We went to speak, to ask about the others, were her sisters had gone but she silenced us and smiled quietly. She bid us follow and we did, toward the stone wall at the far edge of the room. She knelt then before us and took up a small cloth of linen and dipped it in the small bowl beside her left knee. She slowly washed our feet, her hands soft and skilled as they worked up our body over our calves and thighs and then our chest and down first our right arm then our left. She looked down for only a moment then raised her gaze with a smile as she knelt once more and took the bowl and let it fall over our head, wetting the thick mass that seemed to set atop it. Next she produced a blade, it glinted even in the darkness yet there was no sense of fear as she raised it and slowly began to shear away the coils of hair that rested atop our head. She moved silently to the right and returned once more placing a finger into a black bowl and withdrawing it. She moved close, the scent of flowers wafting off her skin as her finger first traced a pattern on our brow then upon our chest. As she finished the pattern a door opened in the stone of the wall and with her right hand she motioned for us to enter. We leaned in and placed a soft kiss to her brow and she smiled once more for us before her body fell, all left in her place a pile of blossoms that retained the scent of her skin.
We turned and continued on, further and further up the spire we climbed for what seemed like an eternity until yet another door laid in place for us. This door we knew but did not know, it felt as if one of us should know it. It was then we felt each other, and he whispered to the dark "I am you as you are me, we walk as one within this place because it is your place as well as my own" and as he spoke those words he pressed our left hand to the stone and cut his finger upon it.
The blood that slid from the cut was rich with the scent of copper, and he traced a sigil into the stone, and then spoke once more. "I cannot trace the second set kas'hatan, you must do it for us", and even before his words ended I raised our right hand and mirrored what he had done before me. Cutting our finger upon the stone and tracing a sigil, that seemed to writhe and live as it was set to the stone. We then stood back as a line fell down the center of the door and it opened inward to a cavernous room. In this room there were three large openings onto the world, the only barrier a thin curtain of linen. At the center of the room there was an alter of onyx and upon the alter was a kris. The kris glinted brightly resting upon black silk and we went to it's call. We knelt slowly before the alter and I raised our right hand and took the blade and spoke. "I am kas'hatan the traveler of shadowed flesh, traverser of the hungered darkness" and at the end of my words the other raised our left hand and took the blade and spoke as the point of the kris laid level beneath our third rib. "I am the walker unseen among the sands, the voice in the dark, the man without form" and he plunged the kris into our flesh but there was no pain and I reached our right hand into our body and removed the black heart at its center placing it to the alter.
It was then a great wind picked up, and on the alter the heart continued to beat and then became a sphere of onyx as the body it once housed became ethereal and was swept away by the high winds.
I begin my walk now in earnest, eyes closing against a harsh wind but I can still see the spire tower in my mind. The echoes of chants float on the winds that blow from that place, a rhythm that my heart begins to match as I walk. My vision shifts for a moment and I see myself as I walk, the man that walks is me but is not. He walks in black hooded robes, his skin ebony but ethereal and not in this place fully. Strong winds catch the robe he wears and nothing is beneath but the black. I am once again as I was, seeing through the eyes of what is now our body as we walk toward the spire and the chanting. The closer we get to the spire the louder the chanting becomes and it is no longer a chant but cries of lamentation and then adulation as we come closer.
Our right hand slowly raises, the cuff of the robe that had hidden the hand falling back and in our hand appears a staff. The staff is not jeweled but it is intricate and finely crafted as if years of care had went into its making. Atop the staff sat a crystal, it was large and writhing serpents seemed to coil around it, holding it in place. We continued our journey once more, eyes that saw not only flesh but deed moving over the prostrate masses that had gathered. Their city surrounded the spire, we knew they lived forever in its shadow. The scent of jasmine hung in the air and it did not please our senses, a movement of our left hand snuffing out the offending odor.
We walked through the crowd now, and came upon the entrance to the spire. At its entrance stood two beasts, they were brutes with the bodies of men but the heads of bulls. In their hands they hefted great axes, the black metal that crafted the curve of the blade glinting like the sands beneath the sky. Our left hand raised when the brutes lowered their axes and presumed to attack, words uttered in sweet whisper from our lips came then. The brutes stopped, a look of anger, pain, dismay as the sands beneath them erupted and tendrils of earth grasped them about the hoof and wrist dragging them to the sands and holding them prostrate before us.
Our hand lowered and we continued on past the entrance and now into the spire. It was cool in this place, along the walls there were braziers burning with a pallid green yellow flame that matched the skies above this spire. The walls and columns within were crafted of black marble, but there were no drawings, nothing to indicate what this room was for.
A door opened before us and we continued on, following the steps up and up until a door laid before us. On this door serpents writhed and hissed, their hooded forms snapping out angrily. For some reason this brought a smile to us and we hissed in return before pressing the staff gently to the stone door. The snakes above the staff hissed in turn as the serpents from the door slithered up the staff and took their place around the jewel that sat atop the staff and we continued on. As we entered the room there was a carpet, rich and soft beneath our un-sandled feet. There was no light within the room yet we could see and as our eyes looked around this new room we saw a vast trove of treasures. Their were stacks of jewels, of coins from all places, rubies, emeralds, jade and the like, and yet for all these treasures we did not crave them and continued on across the room to the stairs were we once again ascended and as we did the air became sweet, the scent of acacia teasing the air as a new door blocked our path. The door was simple, a recess within it perfect for the shape of our staff. A feeling of loss came over us as we pressed the staff into its place within the door, watching the door raise and vanish into the ceiling but we continued on.
The room we entered was lush beyond reasoning, the soft scent of acacia was coming from this place. A brazier in each corner of the room flickered quietly, giving light to the room. Heavy pillows were lain around a large circled carpet in the center of this room and our eyes took in the beauty of each crafted object. It was then the women came to the room, their bodies bare of clothing. They were lithe, their hair like spun midnight with curves that seemed to be made for the hands of men. Their voices were sweet and they called to us, beckoned us to join them as they lay on the pillows around the carpet in the center of the room.
It was then we drew back the hood of our robe, letting it fall were we stood. The women smiled to each other and offered their hands out but we raised our own and shook our head as we stepped to the carpet that was at the center of the pillows. As we looked down we saw the carpet, at first only seeing the deep amethyst of the rug but then the outlays of gold interwoven with black. As we looked closer we saw patterns, and our feet began to follow them. Slow at first we walked the patterns, tracing them from the outside, walking the edges as we slowly move inward toward the center. The women gasped and their breath sped all but one who watched with interest. As we continued on the path mist began to rise from the braziers, the smoke beginning to obscure the room around us; yet we continued following the path lain before us unable to stop.
It was then we saw the shining eyes in the black of the smoke, a feminine chuckle before the screams began. The screams were drown out as our concentration was solely now on the pattern. Following it quicker and quicker still as it became more intricate the closer to the center we came. Our feet found the center and a sudden wind swept through the room and all the women were gone save for the one. She smiled but spoke no words and stood, a drop of ruby clung from the corner of her mouth. We went to speak, to ask about the others, were her sisters had gone but she silenced us and smiled quietly. She bid us follow and we did, toward the stone wall at the far edge of the room. She knelt then before us and took up a small cloth of linen and dipped it in the small bowl beside her left knee. She slowly washed our feet, her hands soft and skilled as they worked up our body over our calves and thighs and then our chest and down first our right arm then our left. She looked down for only a moment then raised her gaze with a smile as she knelt once more and took the bowl and let it fall over our head, wetting the thick mass that seemed to set atop it. Next she produced a blade, it glinted even in the darkness yet there was no sense of fear as she raised it and slowly began to shear away the coils of hair that rested atop our head. She moved silently to the right and returned once more placing a finger into a black bowl and withdrawing it. She moved close, the scent of flowers wafting off her skin as her finger first traced a pattern on our brow then upon our chest. As she finished the pattern a door opened in the stone of the wall and with her right hand she motioned for us to enter. We leaned in and placed a soft kiss to her brow and she smiled once more for us before her body fell, all left in her place a pile of blossoms that retained the scent of her skin.
We turned and continued on, further and further up the spire we climbed for what seemed like an eternity until yet another door laid in place for us. This door we knew but did not know, it felt as if one of us should know it. It was then we felt each other, and he whispered to the dark "I am you as you are me, we walk as one within this place because it is your place as well as my own" and as he spoke those words he pressed our left hand to the stone and cut his finger upon it.
The blood that slid from the cut was rich with the scent of copper, and he traced a sigil into the stone, and then spoke once more. "I cannot trace the second set kas'hatan, you must do it for us", and even before his words ended I raised our right hand and mirrored what he had done before me. Cutting our finger upon the stone and tracing a sigil, that seemed to writhe and live as it was set to the stone. We then stood back as a line fell down the center of the door and it opened inward to a cavernous room. In this room there were three large openings onto the world, the only barrier a thin curtain of linen. At the center of the room there was an alter of onyx and upon the alter was a kris. The kris glinted brightly resting upon black silk and we went to it's call. We knelt slowly before the alter and I raised our right hand and took the blade and spoke. "I am kas'hatan the traveler of shadowed flesh, traverser of the hungered darkness" and at the end of my words the other raised our left hand and took the blade and spoke as the point of the kris laid level beneath our third rib. "I am the walker unseen among the sands, the voice in the dark, the man without form" and he plunged the kris into our flesh but there was no pain and I reached our right hand into our body and removed the black heart at its center placing it to the alter.
It was then a great wind picked up, and on the alter the heart continued to beat and then became a sphere of onyx as the body it once housed became ethereal and was swept away by the high winds.