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Post by Stojan on

Blue gray black eye gleamed under burgundy cloth, piercing the distance from sparse wooden area missing the creepy crawlies and wholesome animals of life. The desolate promise of magical intervention and bare substance as a result, the history of a land, it’s people broken down in a single tree lucky to have survived such torment and rape of land. The soot floor beneath the figures soft padded leather feeling of dead soil and strained nature, feeling the pain she felt, the calling of the wind to resurrect beauty and promise. Time heals, newborn bushes of yellow green coloring will flourish and trees will spring from the ground in delight, drinking sun rays, filling themselves with supplement.

The single eye moved from foliage to trails of unknown creatures, most ruthless unfeeling entities of the night and darkness. A whisper of death felt comforting and the figure proceeded through these trails among nature, coming upon a makeshift cottage, rather large and primitive of structure.

“Hail!” a serene voice called, handsome and comforting, the way of creatures to lull their supper into a humble stupor. The blue gray eye inspected the rotting vegetables in a dirt patch a few meters to the left of it’s structure, the right holding a wooden, gated crop of corn, one of the few persisting sources of food such a decimated land had to offer, little would grow without the help of magic, this fellow had succeeded, evidently.

A figure staggered from a doorway behind the horribly made structure, he could hear the man of short burley nature hobble back and forth in a subtle struggle to gain control of movements, and the fat mans breath battled against self to suck in the life stuff of air, with more than little trouble. Voice impatiently demanding, “Hail man, what business does ye have wit meh?” stopping his waddle more than a few meters from him, closer to his own doorway, scared and cautious.

The pudgy fellow recognized the one eyed figure, at least in essence, and turned to waddle back into his stingy residence. “I havin no part of you there!”

The robe wearing beautiful creature persisted in a hail and strode the distance between the two, hand coveting it’s doorway before the fellow could enter his domain. “Words, are all I require…” the one eyed figure exclaimed, kind and gentle.

The pudgy mans breathing quickened and his eyes grew wider, answering in a stuttering tone “I-eh-uh-gah-ar-aar-alright.” Ducking beneath the figures outstretched arm, feather like tattooing adorning a glow like skin.
The inside of the small mans house proved unbalanced compared to his land, hinting to wealth, possible hidden in a chest or closet. Fine polished wood decorated the whole inside, of expensive quality, tables, chairs, even a luxurious sofa sat about his less than humble abode.

“Mind the mess, I uhm, don’t be gettin out much…” he waddled and stashed figurines lying about his living table, tucking trinkets into his pouches within a bloody apron he wore. The fellow sweat like a roasting piggy, beads beading from brow and nose, he wiped with the apron streaking red stuff over his face.

The stench disagreed with the one eyed figure.

“Who be yee man, comin to my home, an, intimidating meh so.” He chuckled as if to imply a joke.

“I am Stojan.” Not amused.
Wide is the door of a little cottage.
Is farsuing béul a bhothain.

Re: Investigating

Post by Stojan on

The pudgy man reeked of corruption, Stojan contemplated. A house of riches inside, and of a poverty stricken exterior, including the land, what job could a man be pulling to afford such commodities and keep safe at the same time, he says he is a shut in, obviously prepares is own food, for his apron is bloody. Though something strange is here, out of place, I can’t place my mind upon exactly what is, but ill be cautious; I’ve run into too many over-eager-killers in my journey to Marn, Shim. Criminals whom merely want to cover up their existence, to stay secret. This man definitely has something to hide, and I’m not one for subtlety.

With the swiftness of a jungle animal, Stojan’s hands ripped the apron from the waddling figure, who pissing himself in horror, most likely thinking we was being murdered, but Stojan merely raised the man from the floor with ease and commanded an answer from him, “Where is my father!” The wiggling figure went cold and stopped his benign movements, disgusting to his eye, and to the scent. That sweet bitter musk of urine gagging Sotjan’s mind, as he asked a second time, calm and clear. “My…Father…”

What a pitiful creature.

And the creature answered, mumbling between sobs and fruitless attempts at bribing Stojan. “I have a cougher, over there,” and pointed in a closet, a painting beside it unusually crooked. Stojan noted the oddity, and continued his interrogation, listening to every babbling incoherent whine of the human whose tone was a near squeal, “I I saw him not two days prior master! He is my cousin, half removed, “squiggles added, “I swear on the god that this is all meh little self nos…”

“There are seven Gods, you ignorant human…” ignoring his briery and attempts at family consolidation. “You tell me what is behind that wall. Stojan pointed behind the picture frame near the closet, and walked, fat man in hand to the wall, his little frightened face puckering in silence and futile contemplation.

Stojan hurtled the waste of a life through the makeshift wall, easily toppling, the painting ruined, it must have just been built up. The fat figure fell down many flights of stairs, and Stojan followed him, calmly walking down each one, minding the steps that no doubt set off some sort of booby trap.

By the time he reached the bottom the fat man had struggled from the ground, a white shard protruding from both his legs, and was attempting to retrieve first, a key which he tipped a small wooden table over, to get, and made for a weapon locker. The basement was anything but a dungeon, it was of a fine marble material and metal doors, many of them. Soft whimpers escaping one of the cells, a familiar stench reaching his astute nostrils, and they flared in approval.

A torture chamber.

Stojan laughed, and the sounds behind the cell stopped, all was quite, save the rattling death words of a near dead human, calling out to his god, cursing me.
I looked upon him, those broken legs, and such a frail figure. I asked one last time, glad that he answered, for I raised my foot at least, a second later and stomped his skull into the beautiful marble floor, spreading sinew across the floor, brains squishing between my feet, a funny tingling feeling running through my veins, to my heart. Fragments of his skull had been imbedded in that expensive marble, and I could not help but laugh again at the irony of such a human.

I waltzed to the cell where I previously had heard the whimper and found waiting for me, well for him, but now me, a female elf. My beautiful sight offsetting her horror at seeing past me, blood across the floor, relieve I suppose that I was not the fat man, but I grinned and bore my single blue gray eye upon her, and she realized what I was.

Unseelie Sidhe.

And she screamed.

Just then I remembered that the man did not provide me with any useful information, and regretted in killing him for a moment, before my eye fell once again upon the screaming female.
Wide is the door of a little cottage.
Is farsuing béul a bhothain.

Re: Investigating

Post by Stojan on

The marble flooring shinned, glimmering promises to unsuspecting women, only to earn the torture and atrocities of a fat fiend, a shut it he said he was, with such an odd house, Stojan felt compelled to investigate further into who and what the man really was, yes a puny human, but to what end did he keep these peoples in such a slave dungeon.

Perhaps this frail figure in front of me will have some answers to my questions, “You, Elf, what are you doing here. Why are you here?” Stojan's tone chafing the subliminal evil that was; incarnate. The elf acted as if to not understand, “out with it female!” voice rumbling through basement walls echoing his own promises if she did not respond.

“My name” she said, before Stojan’s hand flew of its own accord and struck the female elf clear across the head, dazing her, she did not have any response time to consider the pain, merely the relief of not being dead from such a blow.

“I did…not...ask anything about yourself. Why are you here, and who was this human male?” Stojan moved to show her the sprawling carcass across the upscale dungeon floor.

The elf sung information, “I was mate to a man beautiful and handsome, we came to this house, he had business with the fat man.” She whimpered, touching the swelling tumor of a wound growing on her temple-head. “They got in an argument, I heard a struggle, came into the main living room where the handsome man I met 2 weeks prior had murder another elf, a man I have seen in Shim a great many times and of some prestige. There where six with him, all elves, I know not what happened to them.

Stojan made to strike her again and she recoiled, finishing her words, “They where after information concerning some powerful people in Marn.”

The beautiful Sidhe left the elf in the small dungeon room she occupied and made his way to the following twelve doorways, ripping the steel from its hinges every time, throwing the large metal door upon the marble, cracking the ground. In each of the room where, an elf, elf, elf, elf, elf elf, and some other rooms were empty, the last he looked in and it was a larger room as the main chamber, full of racks, ropes, water tubs, and fire pits. Stojan’s heart filled with a little more joy, at viewing such a collection of torturing items.

A rustling sound behind him caught Stojan’s full attention, whirling around, the elf stood erect and ready with mace in hand, he must have missed the weapons door; the large iron ball of spikes struck his outreached hand, the elf surprisingly strong, and imbedded into his head. The mace handle sticking oddly into the air, Stojan screamed a most monstrous battle cry and grabbed the Elvin woman who clawed, biting and kicking all the way.


Stojan smiled, bending down to torture the elf, first, he knocked her unconscious, smiling as he bent down and bit her stomach, poking half a hand inside the bite to tear the wound open more, the skin was tough and taunt, but Stojan was dedicated to making her suffer. It was no easy task to tear an naw through the muscles, the hardest part, getting through bone, he had to repeatedly slam his hands to the point of exhaustion, untill they finally cracked. His task was nearly done, having eaten and spitting out the extra, made his way to killing the young elf. She was almost in half by the time he was done, but decided to leave the rest, he was tired.

The elves eyes were closed in the last five second of her life.
“Stupid elf bitch! Attack a Sidhe why don’t you!”

And she died.

Stojan laughed.

“What an idiot.” He walked from the room and to the weapons chamber door she left open, a hidden wall, it promising nothing, he returned up the stairs to the former fat mans house, Stojan began to shuffle through his object and papers lying about.
Wide is the door of a little cottage.
Is farsuing béul a bhothain.

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