"Pain! Pain!" Lemonpie screamed in exhilaration. Never before had the young Archpriest been happy with the suffering caused by this rotten fortress. It was truly excruciating, yet Lemonpie screamed jovially. It did not burn or sting, no, it was not the wound that hurt. He felt an odd, burning sensation running through his leg. It slowly creeped its way upward, its stinging tendrils grasping more and more of his frail body. Still, no matter how far it crept, how painful it became, Lemonpie did not scream in agony. His was the face of a madman, laughing frantically as blood flowed from his broken body. Even when the darkness came, and took his consciousness away, a smile remained, its teeth somewhat sharper than they had been before.
The darkness faded once more, and Lemonpie felt himself home. The rock was cold, chilled by Afer's thousand arms just above. Yet, the uncomfortability of the room was comfortable. Even in the mess of dried up blood of viscera that had been spilled upon these floors and cleaned time and time again, even in the stale air that had stood there unmoving for over a decade, even upon the engravings defaced by Apiks, Lemonpie felt home. He had spent many a night here, fallen asleep after engraving, mining and tirelessly praying to Lord Omer. His personal chambers, lavish creations dedicated to one of the previous overseers, were nothing compared to what he felt for this divine chasm deep underneath the brimming fortress. As he laid there, pondering the beauty of the creation he had admired so often, he felt a tingling in his legs. Surprised, he jumped up, or at least attempted to do so before realizing he was still unable to walk. It had almost been a month since the bite, yet still, results were sparse.
STAND UP, VERMIN!
Lemonpie jolted. He was used to voices in his head, more than. Lesser deities and spirits talked to him all the time. Omer and the gods of the True Pantheon occasionally conversed with him, their mighty voices booming through his being. Even universal constants, such as Afer and Armok had spoken to him, or at least connected mentally. His brain had been used as a Forum of sorts for ethereal beings otherwise unable to connect. But this voice, this voice came from within himself. It was his own being, or a chunk thereof, speaking to himself. A twisted voice, evil in every fiber of its existence. His skin started tingling, and an intense pain shot through his left eye, as if a blunt force crushed it, and started whisking it around.
WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR, WEAKBLOOD? STAND!
The pain intensified, and Lemonpie started screaming. His eye burned with the fury of a thousand suns, while a burning line of pure pain started forming on his lower body. He felt sharp, metal chains, dragging through his guts. "GUARDS, GUARDS!" Lemonpie shrieked. The tiny slide in the heavily barricaded marble doors slid open, and the brown eyes of a concerned forumite looked through them. "A-archpriest, what is going on?", the guard asked worriedly. "The corpse - Of Id - Is it - Still here?!" Lemonpie managed to answer, interrupting every few word with heavy breathing and groans. Without waiting for the guard's reply, Lemonpie continued. "Fetch me the eye - the mangled one! Quick!". The slide closed once more, and metal footsteps were heard on the floor, undoubtedly speeding towards the refuse stockpile in the upper levels. Lemonpie continued writhing on the floor, clawing at his eye.
CLEVER LITTLE FLESHBAG.
The pain grew heavier. Lemonpie screamed and screamed, for what felt like an eternity, though it could not have been more than twenty minutes before a swathe of onlookers arrived to powerlessly observe the suffering of the Archpriest through the holes in the wall. The pain became too much to bear. Just as the guard returned, Lemonpie forced his index- and middle finger into his eye socket. With a disgusting sound, and a hellish shriek, he relieved his own eyeball from its position. The crowd was stunned. Some gasped or screamed. Some fainted. Some tried to kick in the heavily reinforced doors to aid their helpless teacher. Only the King of Bone stood there with a smile. "Throw - it - to - me." Lemonpie managed to mutter, holding his own eye in the palm of his hand. Reluctantly, the guard threw the extinguished, grey eye through the slid. It slowly rolled towards Lemonpie, who barely managed to grab it with his free hand. Accompanied by another disgusting sound, he inserted the eye into his now empty socket, where it started glowing again. The pain faded.
Yet a bestial roar emerged from Lemonpie's throat.
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Topic: NecroThreat IV: Fortress for BFEL, God of Necromancy (Read 516731 times)