Down the Unnatural Road.

[CytianaMoonarrow]

All was quiet. Not even the screams, or wails of the undead filled the halls of Undead Lordaeron at this time. It was silent, and the dust had finished settling, the dead had ceased their lamenting, and cries for vengeance.

One padded silently through the now silent tunnels.
Silently, and swiftly.

Her clawed hands hung limply along the sides of her gangly frame. Pieces of flesh had long peeled away from the decaying body; however, the body itself was still in fairly good condition. Her kneecaps stood out, slightly moldy, and shiny in the unnatural light, as did her spine, fingertips, elbows. Her eyes, long rotted out had stapled pieces of steel crisscrossing her face, obliterating her vision, but doing nothing in keeping her from truly seeing. Lank, and somewhat greasy hair hid some of the damage done to her face, but the destruction was still very visible to see. Her skin itself was that pale grey-blue; the colour a body turns when no heart beats to push the blood through it.

She was one of them; one of the Undead.

Her clawed fingers brushed through the air almost tentatively, slowly as she walked. If her blood still flowed within her veins she may have felt that odd tingling sensation which feels almost akin to the wind rushing past during flight, however, those days were long since past.

She wasn’t without purpose tonight however, unlike so many of the nights of recent. The Undead were without purpose, after death; damned to find their own way from their grave-birth.

She smiled, her half-rotted teeth glistening obscenely in the unnatural light of the sewers. It was one of those nights, and she knew. The time had come, again, and so had the lust.

[CytianaMoonarrow]

Her gait was catlike, as she swaggered through the sewers, towards the back entrance of Lordaeron. Claw-like fingers twitched at her sides, as anticipation roiled through her blood, sweeter than the most intoxicating drug.

A giggle escaped her lips, one high pitched and foreign, echoing into the faint lit tunnels. Following her up into the darkened forests of Tirisfal, it was unnatural, stirring any of the bats who may’ve taken roost within the sewers.

Before long, a tower loomed before her in the mists, mysterious, but not yet unknown. Voices floated around the glade, sounding strangely disembodied. She smiled widely, her head tilting slightly brokenly off her neck.

“Time.. for a game. "

[CytianaMoonarrow]

The monastery was nearly silent—the monks having long retired to their barren chambers. Faint shadows flickered along the walls, as only the most faithful relit the dying candles. There were few still awake, only one or two whisper soft footsteps heralded their comings and going.

She crept, tiptoeing lightly across the flagstones, her giggles preceding her farther into the chapel.

“Who goes there,” echoed the baritone voice of one of the more elderly brothers within the Monastary. “Who dares, this late into the night.”
A light giggle filled the air, “Who doesn’t dare?"
“I repeat, who goes there?”
“Not who, Father.. But what.”
“What..” he gasped.
“Oh yes Father. Not who, but what.”

[CytianaMoonarrow]

“What am I, what am I, you ask?"

“I am alive. Living, but dead. I am dead. No blood flows through my veins, no breath can be stolen away from me. My heart does not beat, and yet, I feel. Not pain as you know it, but an aching cold.

It is not a type of cold you’d recognize, Father dear.”

A clawed finger traces down the side of the Abbot’s weathered face, beguilingly. A soft laugh hisses out of a rotten jaw- liquid with humour. Mouldy teeth shone out at him, as an icy grin crossed the undead face.

“What.. type of cold is it?”

She leered at him, her face unnatural in the holy light.

“The murderous kind.”

“Sweet.. holy..” His breath rattled audibly in his chest, as his heart constricted with some terror he couldn't seem to fathom.

She merely smiled wider, ”Oh, the holy won’t save you now, Father dearie.”

[CytianaMoonarrow]

He closed his eyes tightly, prayers tumbling from his dry lips, begging the unholy apparition before him to disappear.

I pray for the Light to save me.
I pray that in the darkness, I will find the Light be my guide.
I pray when I am lost in the darkness, I find my way back to the Light.
I pray for the Light to save me, from the dark, when I am lost.

A soft, parting giggle echoed around the chapel.

I pray to the Light.
I hope I can find the light, within my darkness.

His voice continued on for hours, filled with pleas to the Light to save him, he unaware that the being had retreated sometime before into the shadow from whence it came.

[CytianaMoonarrow]

Eerie light reflected off the tunnels of Undead Lordaeron as she swaggered back down into them.

One step, two step, three step, four- Heehee. Her thoughts spun crazily even for her, turning everything into yet another game to play. Her eyes lit with some insane fire as she considered the next game, the next ‘playmate’.

“Could it be a maiden of Southshore? A dwarf of the Peaks?” She smiled to herself, tilting her head sideways as her voice echoed off the sewer walls, “An elf of Silvermoon perhaps? A travelling merchant? So many many people to choose from!”

A guard looked askance at her, half wondering about the state of her mind. A wide, half-crazed, toothy grin was what the guard got in response, even as the Undead began to think, barbaric idiots, the lot of them. Need to play a game with the guards sometime, musn’t play a game with the guards sometime, want to play a game with the guards sometime, no, musn’t now, musn’t.

A nearby wall with a decent sized niche looked accomadating for a time. Sliding into it, she withdrew from a hidden spine sheath a rusted, but very honed stiletto, and began to toy with it. A low, mindless humming washed down the sewers, as she played absently, almost lost in her game as a child would be his or her own toys.

“What to do, what to do.. who to find a better question.. Where to play another.. Come come, good friend, can you not answer my questions? Do you not want to play too?”

[Vakshna]

((very eerie, I give you props, i might want to get in on this sometime if your willing to have me XD))

[CytianaMoonarrow]

-Warning; Maybe be a tad gruesome for some-


Drip. Drip.

The scarlet puddle dripped irrevocably through the cobblestones, haltingly, as if unsure of where to go next. A copper-y scent filled the air heavily, similar to a smog.

Drip. Drip.

The fingers twitched of the body twitched, as a gasping breath echoed through it’s chest cavity. Eyelashes began to flutter open, and with them, soft whimpers echoed out of its throat. It. Not he, nor she. It was neither, now that it was a victim.

And whatever it was, had gone to town on it’s body. No available space on it’s body hadn’t been unmarked in any way, whether the mark be by blade, teeth, or bludgeon. It’s face was a mass of slices, curving as lips would, into many macabre grins, each scarier than the last.

Another whimper escaped it’s throat, small and helpless.

“You’re a trapped thing, aren’t you?..”

A soft laugh filled the morning air, as finger tips gently caressed it’s cheek, a lovers touch. Gentle, and beguiling.

“Is it my fault? Is it my fault I made you as you are now? A beautiful horrific creature.. And I am your creator.”

Another whimper escaped it’s throat, the mutilated chest rising and falling more and more rapidly as panic and shock began to set in. The whites of it’s eyes shone luminescent in the soft light, circling dilated dark, terrified eyes. Its’ fingers tightened, the nails chipping against the stone floor, as it somehow tried to propel itself away from the horror.

“Shh, little one,” the voice murmured. “It’ll all be over soon. I promise.”

It shook it’s head, denying the existence of the voice, trying to block it out completely. Such horror could not be real. The pain was merely a phantom now, blocked out by the endorphins of shock, and fear; the coppery scent a memory. It was cold though. The air seemed to possess a foreign chill, pressing close, pushing away the heat of life.

“Little one. I said, be still.”

A strangled gasp escaped it, as the sound of rending flesh echoed around them. Another tear the cold could seep into. Its flesh seemed to split like butter under the knife, as the stranger worked at it, letting the world see just how chaotic the inner workings were. Over and under, in and out, soft, but raw.

Finger caressed the workings gently, slick with the juices of chaos. A low croon began to echo out of the strangers chest, followed by the softly sung lullaby;

“Hush my little one, don’t say a word,
I’m going to kill you a mocking bird.
And if your mocking bird don’t sing,
I’ll strangle you something to your liking.”

A whine began low in its throat, and worked its way out of the victims mouth, soft with shock and fear. The strangers fingers worked upwards, tracing over smiles, lip after lip. A smile grew upon the strangers face, that soft euphoric look, dreamlike in its own horrific afterglow.

[CytianaMoonarrow]

They had thought he was crazy. Demented, he knew, after he admitted to what he had seen that night. The other brothers didn’t know, or understand what he’d seen, and he couldn’t seem to explain it well enough to suit their fanatical whims. He wasn’t crazy—he knew what he’d seen. That ghoul, it haunted him. He heard constantly her high pitched giggling—the kind that made the hair on the back of his neck rise in trepidation.

“I am not crazy.” He had muttered.
“Father Brawhew.” A voice behind him had spoke, “What are you about?”
Surprised, he’d turned on his intruder, blurting out. “F-father Marsland. I merely wander.”
The man had appeared briefly skeptical, but mentioned nothing of his companions odd behaviour. “Brawhew, it is long past the appropriate hour to be about. Please return to your quarters immediately.”

Heetee.. Hush me little one,
No, don’t scream a word,
I’m going to kill you your mocking bird..

He flinched, as the voice returned to him. High pitched, like a young girls was, with a note of insanity, behind the lilt, humming the soft lullaby to him, as if he were her wayward child.

The words imprinted upon his horrified mind. Oh Light, Oh god, oh Light, oh God, he thought, panic overriding the senses. He hoped she would leave, go back to the hell from which she’d crawled out of—anything, and anywhere, away from him.

The blood had pooled around them, almost like a blanket would fall to the floor in a haphazard pile. Warm, and enveloping. Almost.. calming in it’s horrific glory.

“My dearie, my dearie, it won’t be long now. Daddys’ coming to claim you..” Her voice rattled, raspy and fluidic as bile spilled out of a hole in her throat. “Daddy’s going to make it all better. Just you wait and see, dearie.”

Moldy teeth gleamed in the flickering candlelight, down at his features, as he whispered, “Daddy?”
“He’s going to come and claim you..’ she sang, “Take you home..”
“Where’s home?”
She leant over, her decaying face inches from his own, as she continued to sing, “Where you cannot see, or be seen. You are blind, you are deaf. You are nothing…”
Something cold dripped onto his face; cold, wet, and slimy skin detached itself from her, to lightly slide down his cheeks, mingling with the blood upon the floor.
A soft whimper escaped him, as her fingers lightly stroked his jaw. “Shhh dearie,” she cajoled, as if he were a small child,

“Everything.”
“Will.”
“Be.”

She leant over him once more, a maniacal grin twisting her features, as she looked him over hungrily. Bare inches from his throat, she hissed, her singsong lilt echoing off the rafters of the chapel, as she sunk her teeth into the hollow of the good Brothers’ throat.

“Fiiiiiiiine~”