Abaddon
Posted: Sat Dec 06, 2008 8:27 pm
Name: Abaddon
Age: ???
Height: 6'4"
Weight: 280lbs
Race: Daemon in human form
Description: Red mohawk and moustache.
_______________________________________
Pain.
I could feel the pain. It isn't my pain, but it feels good to feel the pain.
I could feel it, and it feels good. The vessel is weak. Darkness is all around.
The pain is good, it feeds the hate. The hate for those who betray, the hate for all.
I can hear the screaming. The pain is delicious.
She died that night. The night I possessed the vessel. She died. I came to the light. The vessel is weak.
The vessel is too slow, I must make it faster. The vessel is too weak, I must make it stronger.
The body grows. The mind learns. The vessel is too slow. The vessel is too weak.
I must make it faster. I must make it stronger. I must leave it behind.
I must pour through the books. I must learn the words. I must unlock the rites. I must leave the vessel behind.
Abaddon stood over the corpse at the table. It was not such a bad corpse, freshly departed of life and ready to succumb to his bidding. With a few necromantic words, it slowly rose, mindless, soulless. A perverse smirk creeped upon Abaddon's face as he reflected how similarly the men of Sosaria appeared to him. He shook his head and with a wave of his hand, the corpse collapsed. This was practice. This was childs play. He was in search of the ritual to return to his true self.
Age: ???
Height: 6'4"
Weight: 280lbs
Race: Daemon in human form
Description: Red mohawk and moustache.
_______________________________________
Pain.
I could feel the pain. It isn't my pain, but it feels good to feel the pain.
I could feel it, and it feels good. The vessel is weak. Darkness is all around.
The pain is good, it feeds the hate. The hate for those who betray, the hate for all.
I can hear the screaming. The pain is delicious.
She died that night. The night I possessed the vessel. She died. I came to the light. The vessel is weak.
The vessel is too slow, I must make it faster. The vessel is too weak, I must make it stronger.
The body grows. The mind learns. The vessel is too slow. The vessel is too weak.
I must make it faster. I must make it stronger. I must leave it behind.
I must pour through the books. I must learn the words. I must unlock the rites. I must leave the vessel behind.
Abaddon stood over the corpse at the table. It was not such a bad corpse, freshly departed of life and ready to succumb to his bidding. With a few necromantic words, it slowly rose, mindless, soulless. A perverse smirk creeped upon Abaddon's face as he reflected how similarly the men of Sosaria appeared to him. He shook his head and with a wave of his hand, the corpse collapsed. This was practice. This was childs play. He was in search of the ritual to return to his true self.