Lupen
07-10-2006, 12:45 PM
***********Warning: Harsh Language and Adult Themes************
Consumed by true hatred, true disgust, true anger, true revenge is his. Never much of an apothecary, a conjurer by nature, a tailor by skill. The vile poison brewed on the table, bubbled, churned, and swirled. He ran his decrepit hand through his greasy aqua hair. A tick of some-sort fell out, and directly into the concoction. The tick moved erratically for a half-second, and fell motionless. Lupen grinned madly, grabbed a pair of tweezers to remove the tick and examine it.
The small body, under a magnifying glass, revealed numerous gashes and ruptures riddled in its carapace. The openings were white hot, perfect, flawless. Lupen grinned once more, but then frowned. It was good, too good; it was too powerful to be used. He poured a small amount into a vial and examined the components. Too hot, too warm, too evil. He shook his head, searching around the herbs for a proper inhibitor.
Stranglekelp, Kingsblood, Khadgar’s Whiskers, Dreamfo… Dreamfoil, perfect. He ground up about 4 or 5 dreamfoil leaves and smelled the contents. Completely odorless, just as he had hoped. Sighing heavily, he dropped each rind slowly into the pool of poison. The liquid bubbled slowly and transformed from a deep green to a light blue. The Dread Mage frowned a bit deeper, not certain of himself as he poured a bit of the inhibited poison. “Keever!” He yelled over to the deranged scientist.
“What does Warlock want from Keever?”
“Test this on the Elf Prisoner, the one I ‘experimented’ on a few weeks ago. Injection through bloodsteam.”
Keever muttered as he snatched the vial.
* * * *
He walked into the private testing room as Keever walked out. It had been a week since the potion was administered. The elf had perfect twilight-purple skin, short teal hair, and a perfectly formed body. The Warlock grinned wickedly at her, completely naked and crying to the point where her eyes had swelled. With a tome in one hand, he spoke in terribly fractured Common, “How… Are… Y-You… Feeling?” A terrible rasp encompassed Lupen’s tongue. The elf-woman looked at him defiantly, not saying a word in response. His eyes narrowed, angrily, he repeated himself. “How…! Are…! Yo—Ya… You…! Feeling?!” The elf spit directly on his face, the saliva weak with a lack of sleep, food, and water. He grabbed her with one hand by the neck, as she meakly tried to fight him off, he threatened her with his dagger. “I… I hate it!” She screamed out. Lupen smirked a bit, but that was not answer he sought. He pointed at her abdomen, “H… How, is, that?” The Nameless Kaldori was terribly confused, she placed both her perfect hands over her gut and stuttered, “You… Mean…?” Lupen nodded grimly. “I, I… I’m fine.” Lupen frowned again, “No… Pains, no… Blood?” She looked confused once more and shook her head no.
Lupen became terribly bothered; it seemed like a complete failure. He shrugged thrust his dagger directly through her forehead, ejecting brain matter and large amounts of blood over the Undercity walls and floor. As he removed the dagger, he stuck one hand on her right breast, smooth and pure; the Dread Mage almost wished he had not violently ended her… He felt the heart beat slower and slower. Before the pulse completely ended, he allowed her soul to leave its mortal shell, and to enter his own collection.
Keever walked in once more, completely unphased by the brutal killing, he unlocked the cell and dragged the limb bodice onto an operating table. He placed his casting dagger into the sheathe, searching the counter for a razor. Ah, excellent, one discarded by the Abomination Stitching. No protection was needed, no gloves, no mask, no goggles, the risk of infection ends along with the life. Examining the now blood-stained skin, he found the exact area of incision, and dove into the flesh. Pubic bone shattered beneath the razor-edge. A downward slice came after a moment enjoying the carnage. Throwing the razor down, after it had truly lost its usefulness, the Forsaken dove into the cut with his two claws of hands. He searched for about 3 minutes going upward into the body for the proper organs, with success in the end. Removing the ovary and exploring the eggs… Examining them below a magnifying glass allowed Lupen to grin with true glee... Dead, useless, ruptured, melted, eggs.
Finally, it worked, the rest was bottled and stored safely away.
After the… Events… That transpired when Druscilla had a “child”, he realized he could not let anymore demons be revealed through his Grims. None. He cared about The Grim, he did not want to kill any of the members… At times, he threatened it of course, but never intended to follow through. Any more of the Female members impregnated… Would be quite dangerous… A new generation of Grim could be hazardous, such as the corrupt Demonkin of Druscilla. “Keever!” He yelled out, “Don’t mention this, dispose of the body!” Keever nodded unhappily, and tossed the Elf corpse to the next shipment to The Blightcaller and his Plague Hounds.
Consumed by true hatred, true disgust, true anger, true revenge is his. Never much of an apothecary, a conjurer by nature, a tailor by skill. The vile poison brewed on the table, bubbled, churned, and swirled. He ran his decrepit hand through his greasy aqua hair. A tick of some-sort fell out, and directly into the concoction. The tick moved erratically for a half-second, and fell motionless. Lupen grinned madly, grabbed a pair of tweezers to remove the tick and examine it.
The small body, under a magnifying glass, revealed numerous gashes and ruptures riddled in its carapace. The openings were white hot, perfect, flawless. Lupen grinned once more, but then frowned. It was good, too good; it was too powerful to be used. He poured a small amount into a vial and examined the components. Too hot, too warm, too evil. He shook his head, searching around the herbs for a proper inhibitor.
Stranglekelp, Kingsblood, Khadgar’s Whiskers, Dreamfo… Dreamfoil, perfect. He ground up about 4 or 5 dreamfoil leaves and smelled the contents. Completely odorless, just as he had hoped. Sighing heavily, he dropped each rind slowly into the pool of poison. The liquid bubbled slowly and transformed from a deep green to a light blue. The Dread Mage frowned a bit deeper, not certain of himself as he poured a bit of the inhibited poison. “Keever!” He yelled over to the deranged scientist.
“What does Warlock want from Keever?”
“Test this on the Elf Prisoner, the one I ‘experimented’ on a few weeks ago. Injection through bloodsteam.”
Keever muttered as he snatched the vial.
* * * *
He walked into the private testing room as Keever walked out. It had been a week since the potion was administered. The elf had perfect twilight-purple skin, short teal hair, and a perfectly formed body. The Warlock grinned wickedly at her, completely naked and crying to the point where her eyes had swelled. With a tome in one hand, he spoke in terribly fractured Common, “How… Are… Y-You… Feeling?” A terrible rasp encompassed Lupen’s tongue. The elf-woman looked at him defiantly, not saying a word in response. His eyes narrowed, angrily, he repeated himself. “How…! Are…! Yo—Ya… You…! Feeling?!” The elf spit directly on his face, the saliva weak with a lack of sleep, food, and water. He grabbed her with one hand by the neck, as she meakly tried to fight him off, he threatened her with his dagger. “I… I hate it!” She screamed out. Lupen smirked a bit, but that was not answer he sought. He pointed at her abdomen, “H… How, is, that?” The Nameless Kaldori was terribly confused, she placed both her perfect hands over her gut and stuttered, “You… Mean…?” Lupen nodded grimly. “I, I… I’m fine.” Lupen frowned again, “No… Pains, no… Blood?” She looked confused once more and shook her head no.
Lupen became terribly bothered; it seemed like a complete failure. He shrugged thrust his dagger directly through her forehead, ejecting brain matter and large amounts of blood over the Undercity walls and floor. As he removed the dagger, he stuck one hand on her right breast, smooth and pure; the Dread Mage almost wished he had not violently ended her… He felt the heart beat slower and slower. Before the pulse completely ended, he allowed her soul to leave its mortal shell, and to enter his own collection.
Keever walked in once more, completely unphased by the brutal killing, he unlocked the cell and dragged the limb bodice onto an operating table. He placed his casting dagger into the sheathe, searching the counter for a razor. Ah, excellent, one discarded by the Abomination Stitching. No protection was needed, no gloves, no mask, no goggles, the risk of infection ends along with the life. Examining the now blood-stained skin, he found the exact area of incision, and dove into the flesh. Pubic bone shattered beneath the razor-edge. A downward slice came after a moment enjoying the carnage. Throwing the razor down, after it had truly lost its usefulness, the Forsaken dove into the cut with his two claws of hands. He searched for about 3 minutes going upward into the body for the proper organs, with success in the end. Removing the ovary and exploring the eggs… Examining them below a magnifying glass allowed Lupen to grin with true glee... Dead, useless, ruptured, melted, eggs.
Finally, it worked, the rest was bottled and stored safely away.
After the… Events… That transpired when Druscilla had a “child”, he realized he could not let anymore demons be revealed through his Grims. None. He cared about The Grim, he did not want to kill any of the members… At times, he threatened it of course, but never intended to follow through. Any more of the Female members impregnated… Would be quite dangerous… A new generation of Grim could be hazardous, such as the corrupt Demonkin of Druscilla. “Keever!” He yelled out, “Don’t mention this, dispose of the body!” Keever nodded unhappily, and tossed the Elf corpse to the next shipment to The Blightcaller and his Plague Hounds.