Ravenstorture

[color=darkgreen][font=gothic]Well, for one thing, "the town" seems to be pretty vague at the moment. Not Canterbury, not yet... that is the biggest fish of them all. The whole city is just a mass of cloisters and cathedrals... I don't know how we are going to manage it, but I do sense that it may turn out like that customs scene in the matrix, but medieval style. If it's possible... basically one of those huge melees where everyone stands on the sideline until the hero is ready to fight them, so he is never fighting more than one guy at a time, whereas in REAL life if you had a whole town against you they would just get you to the ground and beat the crap out of you but that's another thing entirely... Getting back to the point, I have no idea where we are. Where are we? Manchester? Sounds good. Ok, we'll all meet up in Manchester and then go and **** over Canterbury. Harlequin, my love, would you please suggest something infinitely better, or are you going to be ok with this? I'm all out...[/font][/color]

[color=darkgreen][font=gothic][i]Lacroix and Alastuin walked back towards the city gates, but were distracted by the all too familiar smell of burning flesh. Following it, they ran down a side alley that twisted and bent into dark corners and malicious suburbs...[/i] Alastuin: This isn't right, all burnings are to be held in the square... or do they do things differently here? Lacroix: No, everything is very public, I don't even know where we are going... in fact, I don't even know where we are... Alastuin: And I've lost the scent. Can you hear anything? Lacroix: No, no I can't. [/font][/color]

[color=darkgreen][font=gothic]OOC: This is how I see it. We are all at Ganshed's(?) cabin, in nowhere in particular, except for Raistlin, who is in Lacroix's and my old cabin in the Mire, and Blaze, who is now in the lab. And now since we think we are in the mire, Lacroix thinks he is talking to Raistlin, etc, then we can just make it that Lacroix took me back to the cabin and we all went to the mire for some reason and then we met Raistlin and now we are walking somewhere else.... It would probably be easier if Raistlin was at the cabin we were all at, and now EVERYBODY save for blaze is walking back to the mire. Ok... most of that could have been left unsaid... but anyway... Is that alright?[/font][/color]

[color=darkgreen][font=gothic]ooc: DarkOrderKnight: Eight words the Wiccan Rede forfill - and harm ye none, do what ye will. Meh, never mind... ic: [i]Alastuin stared into the eyes of Lacroix, sensing pain and hatred, poison embedded deep in his mind. It facinated her. Slightly alarmed by the way he was looking at her, she struggled to find a suggestion.[/i] Alastuin: Well, I thank you for your warning, and heed it. Is there somewhere else I should be...? Lacroix: Safe? *He points to the church* As far away from that as you can manage. Alastuin: Well, I suppose I should retreat from the walls of this city then. Care to accompany me? [i]Lacroix said nothing, simply smiled at her in a way that made her feel... something...[/i][/font][/color]

[color=darkgreen][font=gothic]If I had seventeen years to live, I would live in a bamboo hut in Thailand with Harlequin and read books and listen to music for much of it. Ok, some of it. Actually... Ok, If I had seventeen years to live I would build a time machine. Then I would melt it down and mail it to the US goverment in bits and they would have no idea what it was and then I would live in a bamboo hut in Thailand with Harlequin and... Ok, If I had seventeen years to live I would...[/font][/color]

[color=darkgreen][font=gothic]And those two would be... well, when I tried to tie gothic music to gothic people you guys just walked all over me, but I am so used to it by now it took me two pages to figure it out. I KNOW fear factory and a perfect circle aren't gothic, but didn't you just say it doesn't matter? Or was that me... anyway, I'M gothic, or at least I think I am, and therefore music that I think makes me feel goth then it's goth music, or music that goths listen to, like me, because I do. There. Bach's Jesu Joy of Man's Desiring is beautiful, but Rachmanninoff's 3rd has to be the most gothic peice of classical music ever written. Pachelbel has his one hit wonder, however, Tchaikovsky just kept churning them out. Ahh, classical...[/font][/color]

[color=darkgreen][font=gothic]So, you have claw marks on your back. Who's fault is it, my love? Yours, or mine? I suppose it's the same story with the bite marks on your shoulder, cheek, and the love-bite on your upper inner thigh. SEE? I'M NOT HORNY!!!! I'VE GOT NO ****ING REASON TO BE!!! IC: [i]Raven sighs and looks deep into lacroix's mind, trying to see a glimmer of herself in there. There is nothing. She suddenly feels scared, and sick.[/i] Raven: I live in a mental institution. I have lived in one my whole life. They... did things to me there, tested new drugs on me, raped me, tortured me... nobody knew or cared. I had no ties to the outside world, so... it didn't matter. Lacroix: How did you get out? Raven: I strangled the guard. Then I walked out. Lacroix: Right... Raven: But I feel different now... I don't really feel like anything. But I am pretty hungry. [/font][/color]

[color=darkgreen][font=gothic][i]Spyder stood and looked around her. She sighed, annoyed at the lack of anything to breathe and the lack of sound and light. She closed her eyes and reached into her own memory, fumbling for Davien's hand and walking flawlessly into the nothingness. The end was close here, she could feel it. It was like walking along the edge of a cliff. She held his hand tighter and continued.[/i][/font][/color]

[color=darkgreen][font=gothic][i]Alastuin returned to the main room, careful to open the door only as wide as was necessary and shut it quickly behind her. Many of the villagers had returned to their houses, and the few that remained paid no heed to her and noticed not that the priest had remained in the small room. She gathered her meagre belongings and noticed happily that most of the bloody mess had been cleaned up. She reluctantly blessed the baby with her mother-charms and bid her farewell. The villagers, close family of the infant, seemed happy and content in Alastuin's presence, a good sign. She took the fastest route out of the village and hiked through the forest the rest of the way home, circumnavigating the village and giving it wide berth. As soon as she returned home, she closed all the shutters curled up on her bed, crying fitfully. Her father had killed her mother and sister, and now she had killed her father. A monster, but a part of her all the same. She had blocked out the memories of the times when he used to love her, but the scent of them still drifted through the barrier and stung her eyes. Regaining composure, she weighed her options over a bowl of chamomile tea. The goddess smiled down at her from her position in the corner-shelf, and she smiled back. After all the **** she had put up with, she had never lost her faith. Alastuin sighed and rinsed the bowl, calling for her cat Septimus and feeding it porridge and cream, to tired to hunt anything for the fat, black feline she was so attached to. The herbs could stay, she thought, there are plenty out there. Clothing packed in a satchel, dagger strapped safely to her leg, tinderbox, burn balm, a bandage or two, a metal figurine of the goddess, and she was ready. She buried the herbs in the backyard. The house was nearly completely empty without them? Septimus looked at her from the kitchen table. [/I] "Don't go out there dressed like that, you fool."[I] He told her. Alastuin looked at him sharply. [/I]"What did you call me? And what do you mean, dressed like this?" [I]Septimus yawned and rolled on his back, oblivious of the conversation Alastuin was having with herself. She looked at her black velvet robes and sighed. Returning to her room, she brought out a length of black velvet and draped it over her head, crossing it over her shoulders at the front and securing it with a gold hairpin. Nearly?. Crossing to the other side of her room, she stood before an altar bearing candles and various other elemental symbols. A string of large, wooden rosary beads hung off one corner. She sighed and picked them up, attaching them to her satchel so they hung down to her knee. Apart from the quarterstaff she strapped to her back she looked the part. So, scrubbing the blood out from under her long fingernails, she left her house, walking directly away from the village. Septimus followed at a safe pace. [/I][/font][/color]

[color=darkgreen][font=gothic]Don't worry, that's not what I was talking about at all. It's a separate issue altogether. And what do you mean, horny? I just ran out of ideas, is all. Don't call me horny, dammit! [/font][/color]

[color=darkgreen][font=gothic]Well, It Has Begun.[/font][/color]

[color=darkgreen][font=gothic][i] Alastuin stood, hunched over the screaming woman, up to her elbows in blood. A thousand villagers swarmed around her, telling her what to do, what not to do, and muttering about a non-church-goer with it's hands in the Domain of the Lord. She shut it out, concentrating on the shapes sliding under her fingertips and the moans and screams of the woman who's womb she was reaching into. An ear, another... there it was. Stubborn little bastard. [/i]"Shut up, all of you, for christ's sake!" [i]She yelled. She knew she had pushed it a little too far, the room fell silent.[/i] "I need to concentrate, please... I have it."[i] A collective sigh of relief and the blasphemy was forgotten. Alastuin braced her legs against the rough kitchen table and pulled, her hands emerging with screaming infant in tow. Clothes peg, meat cleaver, umbilical cord to the dog and the afterbirth in the fire. The mother's tears of pain turned to tears of joy as Alastuin dunked the baby in a tub of warm water at her side and swathed it in linen, handing it to the mother, much to the father's dismay. As soon as she had washed herself off and discarded her apron, a black robed man pulled her aside into the next room. The oohs and aahs were shut out by a heavy wooden door and an iron blot, and Alastuin's father turned to face her.[/i] Father Grindam: Alastuin, that was brilliant. Thank you for stepping in at the last moment. Alastuin: Don't patronise me, you hated calling for me and we both know it. The mother gave her consent because she was in intense pain. The father gave his consent because his wife was holding his hand at the time. Everyone else didn't want to go against the parent's wishes. Grindam: Well, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. It's getting, well.... They want me to call an inquisitor against you. One's coming soon, anyway, you know, they pass through here often, as you know, but this time... I don't think I can let you through. [i]Alastuin looked into the eyes of her father, the eyes of the man who had killed most of his family to save his own *** and was now sacrificing his own daughter to keep his shiny record untarnished with the church. It made her sick. She didn't think. One minute rage was burning within her, the next he was lying on the floor with blood running everywhere. Not on her though, she knew what she was doing. It was time to leave.[/i][/font][/color]

[color=darkgreen][font=gothic]I'm only up to this so many times in an hour you know, my love...[/font][/color]

[color=darkgreen][font=gothic]And I'd like to tell you to shut the hell up, but because I love you so very, very, very much, I'm going to restrain myself from doing so. :D[/font][/color]

[color=darkgreen][font=gothic]OOC: This isn't really going anywhere, so I'm going to break some of my rules. [i]The party awakes and, after a quick breakfast, set of due east. By the evening they are in sight of the Tower of the Warlock They Are Off To Fight, Isn't That Just Peachy. They make camp in sight of it but well shrouded from veiw. Over the camofire, they make plans for the "invasion" and discuss the strength and numbers of the Tower and it's Cronies.[/i][/font][/color]

[color=darkgreen][font=gothic]And what if it is??!??!?!? I just want it to be correct, is all. You are the expert on such things anyway...(that's right, 100% on my exam!!! That's MY score, not yours!!! Ahem.) Here we go...[/font][/color]

[color=darkgreen][font=gothic][i]Raven struggled to contain herself for what seemed like hours of steadily mounting pleasure, but when Lacroix reached her inner thighs she screamed with ecstasy and rapture, pushing his face into her and breathing heavily. When he entered her this time they came together and lay silently together, enchanted by an unseen bond between them. It was nothing either had ever felt before. [/i] Raven: Who was that man, downstairs? Lacroix: I don't know, does it matter? Raven: I loved what you were doing to him... Lacroix: Have you ever...? Raven: Had it done to me? Oh yes, they did all sorts of things to me in there... Lacroix: That's not what I meant. Raven: Oh... Lacroix: Where is there, may I ask? [/font][/color]

[color=darkgreen][font=gothic]Alastuin: I'm still tired, and there is little to no point of walking anywhere before the sun is up. Rogan: Well, actually... Alastuin: Shut up. It's too bloody cold to be arguing at this hour of the morning. [i]Alastuin climbs back into, not hers, but Zaltazar's tent without a word and falls asleep. Zaltazar frowns at the tent for a while, but nobody was looking so he climbed in after her and fell asleep also. The others retured to their (own) respective beds.[/i][/font][/color]

[color=darkgreen][font=gothic]Wow, that was quick. Thankyou everyone. Now I just have to start the damn thing... Well, Mr Cameron (I'll tell you why the f*ck not!!) I don't know much about europe's anatomy at the time of the inquisition, but I'd say Anglo Saxon (stupid bloody english channel) so let's make England, and the head of the church can be Canterbury, where else. [/font][/color]

[color=darkgreen][font=gothic][i]Raven lies back onto the floor and clutches at her throbbing head. Harlequin senses the pain and picks her up, placing her on the bed beside the deceased Sellum. He then picks Sellum up and, pausing, slides the old man's body under the bed. Spyder looks at him questioningly but does not complain as he pulls the covers over her and draws the dark blue drapes, sheilding the outside world. The room is stained deep blue and Harlequin climbs into bed beside Spyder, holding her tightly and adapting to the odd feelings of another mind bound tightly to your own. Spyder again falls into a deep sleep.[/i][/font][/color]

[color=darkgreen][font=gothic][i]From her position in the humid darkness, he looked almost porcelain, with curving patterns of the muscular arms and legs entwined in her own, to form a convolute tangle of limbs that spoke of tranquil ardour. She lay in the shadow and drank in the feeling of protection created by his silent presence, although a sense of iniquity emanated from this magnificent creature she had entwined in her arms. To anyone else he would appear to be hers, but she knew that possession could never be applied to him, as he was as wild and untamed as he was indescribably beautiful. To watch this figure took her breath away, to lie here entwined with it was more than she could bear, almost. She didn't dare make a sound for fear of the sight dissolving. Her lips ached for his skin, but she couldn't bring herself to move. There was a fluttering of movement, and his eyes opened to penetrate her own. Her breath caught in her throat, and a sudden stillness blanketed the air heavily. She felt her hand reach forward to take his own, careful not to break it. She did not know, as yet, what it was made of. The skin was velvety and white as bone where it intercepted the light. She lay her head on his chest and listened to the strong heartbeat. She could hear the vines growing through the cracks around her window. She shut her eyes and encircled his torso in her arms once more, silently thanking whoever cared to listen for the millionth time that night. She pictured the roseate crescent of his lips and obsidian eyes, through which a glimmer of the powerful and enigmatic mind could be seen. A tear ran down her cheek and fell on his skin, running off away from me and leaving a silver trail in the moonlight, and placing a delicate hand on her hair. She slid an arm across his chest and drew her head back to look at his face, and was blinded by his stunning beauty and overpowering presence. He saw the tears now streaming down her face and smiled. Pulling her down on top of him, he slid his tongue inside her and numbed her flesh with a kiss. She moaned softly, her hands groping to find places to touch and places to hold. His hands slid to her arms and pushed her back onto the bed, and she closed her eyes and felt his tongue slide down her neck to her breasts. Gasping, she arched her back to him and held what parts of his flesh she had in her hands tighter. A hand slid down her stomach and past her abdomen, creating a wave of endorphin and another soft sound escaped from her throat.[/i] Raven: You do not know my name, do you. Lacroix: That is true. What, praytell, is it? Raven: Hmmmm.... Raven. Lacroix: Is that so? Raven: It is now. New beginnings, new beginnings... Lacriox: Another thing, my love. Raven: Yes? Lacroix: Tell me why I found you dancing in the street at two o'clock this morning? Raven: Because you were looking at where I happened to be. And I know that's not a coincidence. Lacroix: ....Hmmm. T'will do. Raven: T'will have to... [i]Raven crawls ontop of her new life and kisses it hard before finding places for her lips elsewhere...[/i][/font][/color]

[color=darkgreen][font=gothic][i]As soon as Alastuin is out of sight of the house, she keeps over in emotional pain and collapses to the hard, dusty ground. Another choked scream escapes from ehr throat and tears of blood stream down her face. It was too much, too much... she couldn't handle it anymore. It was too much to be away from him, it was too much to be with him again, and running away only made it worse. There was no one out here. She did not want to be alone. Clearing her mind and spirit, Alastuin called to her lover silently across the plains and threw her torment into the call, wishing to whatever higher power he would feel it. But her cry was met only with a black, impenatrable wall of icy silence, unforgiven pain, inflicted suffering of the heart. She smelt it. The feeling of hopelessness, the worse emotion to experience. Curling tighter into a ball, Alastuin began to scratch frantically at her eyes and forearms, pain clouding her stretched mind and concealing the indescribable chasm of agony that spanned the distance betwenn her and her other half. She had happiness, it was taken from her, it was given back and she threw it away without thinking. He would not give her another chance if he thought that was what she wanted. But it was not, and now it was far, far too late...[/i][/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=darkred]Warning - this RPG is not on the Church's side. If you are, then go back to the sign up forum. This RPG is not for you. If you are under fifteen, I also suggest that you do not consider this, because (if all goes well) it will get rather gruesome and maybe even erotic at times. Good writers write with blood, sex, and insight. The human is not a pretty thing. When I write, I never pretend that it is.[/color] [color=darkgreen]Inquisition: judicial institution, established by the papacy in the Middle Ages, charged with seeking out, trying, and sentencing people guilty of heresy. The year is 1233, the Inquisition is well under way. On one side, the "heretics" - peaceful, wise women and men who practice herblore and see no point or rationale in the Catholic Church. The Catholic Church, however, is rich, fat, and power-drunk. Heretics pose a threat to its wellbeing, and as they have the power to kill them, that is of course what they do. The Antithesians, or the ones convicted or in danger of being convicted of Heresy, claim that Magic is non-existential. They know that is not true. The Church claims that Satan has power that should not be drawn upon, for there is nothing more evil or pernicious in this world. They use it anyway. Both forces have their secrets, and they must struggle to keep them hidden from their opponents. The Antithesians fight for their life, the Church fights for it's money. You are an Antithesian, under severe threat from the powerful Church and it's stranglehold on the land. The people of Europe are terrified into siding with the church, and so very few can be trusted. Carry what you will, remember the timeframe and that you will be carrying everything you own. Your magic is natural, your knowledge of herblore is great and your faith and belief in the Goddess is vehement. Name - Alastuin West Age - 23 Equipment - kris knife, quarterstaff, leather bracers Appearance - Raven black hair to lower back, pale skin, thin, tallish, wears black, numerous piercings to face and body, strange designs tattooed over back Bio - Lives in small village as a healer, often cursed by villagers for being a witch as she does not attend prayer. Sister and mother killed for herecy by father, who is the village's priest. The villagers do not know she is his daughter, which is the only thing that has saved her life. [/color][/font]

[color=darkgreen][font=gothic][i]Spyder sobs and desparately attempts to touch her love as he stares cruelly down at her and her tears.[/i] Spyder: I never wanted to be like him... nobody would know! I'm not on their side, oh god, please don't do this... I love you, please don't... [i]Harlequin ignores her frantic pleas and strikes once again, kicking her savagely in the ribs and making her scream with agony. She does not attempt to fight back, rather, opens herself to him and lies still on the floor as he continues to kick her inert body repeatedly until the floor is soaked with blood. Red blood. Harlequin, noting this, stops immediately and kneels down, windering if Sellum was right in her being a lightbearer. She was unconcious, and cold to the touch. He rolled her onto her back and stared into her eyes, checking that they were original colour. They were. He opened her mouth and inspected her tongue. It was red, not blue, and the appropriate length and shape. The roots of her hair were not brittle, and her fingernails still white at the edges. She was not a lightbearer. [/i] Harlequin: My goddess, my love... wake up, please... [i]She would not. It was already too late. Although already dead, she had bled too much and withstood too much emotional torment for her to ever regain consciousness. Her last words had been a plea for help, a proclamation of her love, and he had ignored it. She was gone.[/i] {last post in Latham Adytum} Edit: As if! [/font][/color]

[color=darkgreen][font=gothic]OOC: Sorry, JC, i'll jsut put my life on hold for your comfort, then, shall I? IC: [i]Alastuin suddenly stands up and pushes Lacroix away. Glaring at his confused face, she spits at him and steps away.[/i] Spyder: You make me sick! I don't know why I came back you never came after me - I should have realised then how you really felt. If you loved me as much as I loved you, you would have come for me... [i]She screams with sorrow and runs off into the distance, out of sight within the next minute or so.[/i][/font][/color]