With the crowd gathered in Szith centre a dull roar filled the air as those assembled all whispered with each other, they had become accustom to sacrifices being held in the centre and not in the church by now however rumor had spread that this one was to be a little different, a little special and there was much anticipation. The whispers reached fever pitch as one of the children of the queen slowly scuttled it's way to the cusp of the circle and waited for festivities to commence.
After a short while the illharessen of Morcane and Mori'hyanda entered the area from the direction of the temple, they moved slowly and as they passed each gathered group silence fell (mostly
). they brought with them a magic bag ornate in its appearance yet soiled with stains of dry blood and worn with obvious signs of manhandling. As with many sacrifices the crowd had sweled to such a number that only those in the front few rows could hear the words of their illharessen over the background din but they still watched with excited glee as the body of an asimir is removed from the magic bag and knew that this would be a good sacrifice to Lolth.
The body of Seraphim lay prostrate and lifeless in the centre of the circle until a few words uttered by the Illharess of qu'ellar Morcane caused it to stir and gasp for breath before raising itself to its knees. The blood lust in every true Lolthians eye was unmistakable at this point as those that could see it informed those that could not that this one had the aura of a paladin and the mark of the 'Servants of the Light' ornately carved onto his armor. A few moments passed in anticipatory silence, it seemed as if the paladin was trying to speak its final words however few could understand it's tongue and even fewer cared what it had to say at all.
Suddenly with a scream of pleasure the Illharess of Mori'hyanda tore into the flesh of the victim joined in the carnage soon after by her sister of Morcane, in seconds the flesh was flayed and the coverings torn from the body. This was not a delicate operation as it usually would have been, no single sacrificial dagger to slit the throat, the slow gasp for air and ensuing blackness for the victim no, this seemed personal. The crowed roared with pleasure, some became so enamored with blood lust that in small packs they turned on the nearest she'bali jaluken and took their life, purely to feel more part of the killings themselves. The monstrous spider reared up on four of its legs and let out a shrill cry of pleasure and the blood flowed once more into the circle, the body fell to its knees and sank into a slump face down, its aura dimmed to a point where it became barely visible at all.
To be continued...
Sat Dec 07, 2013 6:54 am by 
