Al v9

Have you ever wondered what happens...when a Dragon falls to Madness? RP Blog for Variant nine of the muse from BronzeGuardian

[kicchiri-deactivated20140731]

Order… Wisdom… Power… Rage… Terror… The Great Old Ones… our very existence drives men to madness.

                                                          My skin is crawling…

[scribbly-z-raid]

A series of events lead me to draw Kid with skull make up on.

I couldn’t think of a good back ground so blobby black stuff will do for now.

And also here is Kid sans make up

[nosignofnormalcy]

Visit Original Link

Weep not poor children, for life is this way

Murdering beauty and passions

[calinyh-deactivated20150104]

DTKWeek: Day 2 - Madness click it for better resolution

[al-v9]

O, Death (Drabble)

The twisted Dragon made his way into the small town, growing more cunning with his methods by which he brought about Nothingness for his cherished Master. This time he took a form twice as old as his actual age, by human standards. He sank onto the wooden porch of one of the stores lining the only street through the settlement, exaggerating a groan of exhaustion. Most gave him a wide berth, something about setting them on edge.

For the moment, he looked like any other human, save the unnatural deepness of the black colour of his eyes. His typically long hair hung thin and short at his shoulders, pitch black with only the barest hints of grey having been added to it for appearances' sake. His frame was thin, almost to the point of looking malnourished. Another trick to set the humans at ease, not that it was working. Something about Madness always set people's instincts on alert.

He fumbled with pulling a hunk of wood out of one of his pants pockets, retrieving a knife from another and setting about idly carving a shape out of it. After a moment he started singing quietly, his normal Tenor voice dropping an octave or two, toward his Draconic timbre, and giving a haunting tone to the lyrics.

~

O, Death O, Death Won't you spare me over 'til another year Well what is this that I can't see With ice cold hands takin' hold of me Well I am Death, none can excel I'll open the door to heaven or hell

~

As he sang, dark clouds crawled through the sky, rumbling with thunder as lightning jumped from cloud to cloud. The people of the town looked to the sky with puzzlement before carrying on about their business, albeit with a bit of a rush to their step, now. “Strange,” someone remarked, “the weather didn't call for rain today.”

The Dragon's lips simply curled ever so slightly in a hint of a smile as he continued singing, the clouds growing ever closer to the town.

~ Whoa, Death , someone would pray Could you wait to call me another day The children prayed, the preacher preached Time and mercy is out of your reach

I'll fix your feet 'til you cant walk I'll lock your jaw til' you cant talk I'll close your eyes so you can't see This very hour, come and go with me

I'm Death, I come to take the soul Leave the body and leave it cold To draw up the flesh off of the frame Dirt and worm both have a claim

~

The clouds rolled over in earnest, now, rumbling louder as the sun was blocked out. The town was blanketed with darkness as the clouds stopped their progress, holding steady right over the cluster of homes and businesses. The owner of the shop that the Dragon had sat in front of came outside slowly, staring up at the sky.

“Hey, mister, you'd better find somewhere to hunker down, it looks like it's going to be a...nasty...” he started to say, but trailed off as he looked down at the male and saw what he was carving. A carving of his Master had begun to take shape from the wood, it's hollow eyes almost seeming to gleam with malicious glee.

The Dragon simply smirked as he continued carving, keeping his eyes on the wood as a bolt of lightning shot from the clouds, striking the shopkeeper straight in the chest and sending him flying against his store front. The body crumpled to the ground, a smoking burn over the now-dead man's heart.

~ O, Death O, Death Won't you spare me over til another year My mother came to my bed Placed a cold towel upon my head My head is warm my feet are cold Death is a-movin upon my soul

Oh, Death, how you're treatin' me You've close my eyes so I can't see Well you're hurtin' my body You make me cold You run my life right outta my soul

~

Bolts of lightning rained down from the clouds, striking each building and setting the ablaze. People fled the burning structures in a panic only to be struck down, one by one, by additional bolts from the sky. Men, women, and children, every one, were cut down, screams of terror, pain, and anguish filling the air. The Dragon continued on, still carving as life upon life was extinguished.

~ Oh, Death, please consider my age Please don't take me at this stage My wealth is all at your command If you will move your icy hand

The old, the young, the rich or poor All alike to me you know No wealth, no land, no silver no gold Nothing satisfies me but your soul

~

As the final body fell, the Dragon gave one last draw of his knife, flicking the last stray splinter away from the carving. Perfection~ He pushed himself to his feet as he folded the knife, tucking it back into his pocket as he moved into the store, coming out with a large bag in one hand. A grin of sadistic glee turned the Dragon's lips as he snatched the soul that hovered just over the body from the air, looking it over briefly before tucking it into the sack. He wandered through the town, plucking each and every soul, nearly two hundred all told, from the air above the bodies they had inhabited, and stuffed them in the bag along with the first.

As he deposited the last one in the bag and tied it shut, the clouds slowly faded out of existence, leaving no trace of their presence behind other than the smoking burns on the bodies and the burning buildings. After a brief survey of the town, the Dragon returned to the store.

The carving was settled in the windowsill above the dead shopkeeper's body where it almost seemed to leer at him, mocking his death. A single claw was grown, one hand coming to the wood of the store front. “Perfect Nothingness” was scratched into the building. With one, final, glance at his surroundings, the Dragon wandered out of town the same way he came, humming under his breath as he left to deliver news and spoils of his latest conquest to his Master. He would be so pleased.

~

O, Death O, Death Won't you spare me over til another year Won't you spare me over til another year Won't you spare me over til another year

[al-v9]

                                             When being a monster

 is what you’re best at

why try to be

                                                                                      {anything}

---else?

[bronzeguardian]

For once, the Mad dragon was in his human form- more accurately, a twisted version of it. His hair had become tendrils of black shadow, almost liquid, that seemed to drip down his back and along his body. His eyes were solid black orbs that seemed to shine a sickening deep green at the same time. His fingers were tipped with black claws, at least half again the length of his fingers.

He sat perched atop a street light on the outer edge of a populated area that bordered the desert, almost like a feline in his posture, as he crooned a haunting tune. Through out the village, children slowly stirred. 

Ć̷̢om̵͠e҉͟ Lit͝͡tl̡e ̢C̵h͝i͝l̴̢͢d̴r̶̛e̵ņ͢ I̸’ll̛ Ţą̛̛ke̵͜͢ ̵͡T̵̵h̡͘҉e͡e̷̢̕ ̸A̢w̡̧͡a҉y̴̧,҉̶ ͏͜Iǹ̨̧to͡ ͜A̵ ͜͏̸La̷͘n̴̨͜ḑ O͞f̡̕ ̷́͠E͘͜͠n҉҉c͝h̛͟͡an҉tm̀e͘͡n̷ţ̸̀ ̀͢ ͜C͜o͏̀m̀͞e҉͜ ́L̛̀i͢t̡͝t͞͡l̀e҉ ̧̕C̢̛h̵̕i̕l͞҉d̀͠͡r̸͡e͝n̷͘͞ T̨̀h̀͘͞e̴̴ ̵T͝i͟m͞͝e̛̛͡’͘ş ̕͘C̡o̴͢m͜e̡͏ T͏͢o̶̶ P͏͘l̸͜͢a̸y ̛͠Ḩ͢͡e͟r̸̀͠e ̀́͠I͠ǹ̸̡ ̕͢M̧͞y͘ ̶G͘҉a͠͞r͡͠d̡͏en ͟O͝f͢͏ ͞͠Ma͜gi̧͝c͘͘͞

They all grumbled and tossed in their beds as the black that seemed to drip from the dragon’s hair turned to a mist and crept through the town, swirling above the bed of every youth for a moment before flowing into their systems as they breathed. Some whimpered, some moaned, some flat out cried, some didn’t make a peep.

F̢o͡ll̴͠ò̢w̧ ̴̸̕S͝w̸̨͝é҉è̶̢t҉ ̧̢̛C̕͠h̸i̧͞͝l҉͘҉d̵r̛èǹ͜ ̵҉͢I̵’͞l̵̶̨l̴ ̡S̶͞h͘o̵̵̢w̴ ̴̨Th̴͟e̡̢̢ȩ͘͠ ̵̶̧T̢͜hè͜ Ẁ̸a̢y ̨͜͠T͠h̶̡r̶o͠ư͢g̡͠h̶ ̴Á͢l͠ĺ̶̀ ̡T̵͜h͡͝e̴͟ P̕ąi͠n̸͘͟ ͘A̵̢ń̷̢ḑ͜ ̶T́͝h̨̢e͝ ̵͟S̕or͢͝ŗ̷o͜͡͝w̧s ̴̶ ҉̡W̵e̡͜è͠p̧͝ ̀͠Ņ̷ot̶ P̡̀͡o̕o͢r͘͞ Ch̨͟ì͠l̵͜͢d̴͟͝re͝n̛͏͟ ̢͜F̛̕o͞r̀́͘ ́͝L̕i̧̛͜f̷e̵͢ ҉҉I̧̛s̷ ̧̨Ţ҉̡h̛i͟s̨̢̀ ̷̧Ẃ̸͟aỳ̷ M̵̡ųrd̶͘er̴̕i̴̛͢n̸̴g͘ ̴̧Be̴a͡u͟͝͞t̵̨͟ỳ ̨́͏A̸̸͘n̛͝d ́P̡a̕͞s̵s҉io͡ņ̶s

One by one, the children opened their eyes, the formerly vibrantly coloured eyes now solid black orbs. They sat up in their beds, by all appearances simply sleep walking, and padded toward the kitchens of their homes. The largest knife in the house was retrieved, grasped in tiny fingers as the children made their way into their parents’ bedrooms.

H̶̸̀u͡͝s̀͘ḩ̴̷ N̡o̶w̴͟ ͢D̶e͞a͘͢r͡͝҉ ̴̀C̶͟h̀il̶̢dr̡͡e̵҉ń ̵́I̷t̨͟ ̵̵͞M͏̕͝u҉̢s͠҉͢t͘̕͡ ̢͝B͏͢e̢͢͞ T̷̶͠ḩ̴̢ís̶̴ ̀͘Wa͏y͜͠ ͡T҉́o͢ ̸̀W͏͠e͏a̸̡͡r͠y̶͝ ̧͡O͏f͝ ̸҉L̶̛i͡f̴e͡ ̸A̸ǹ͢͝d͢͠ ̵̛Ḑ̵éçep̶t̀͜͞i͟o͘n̛s҉̀ ͟ ͏͜R̷̛e͝ş̸t̵͝͏ ͏N͠o̡w̧҉̷ ̡̢̀M̶y͏͞ ̡̢C̶͠h͠i̕l͢d̴̛re͢n ̀̕For̛ ҉͟͞S͠oơ̴ń͢͜ ̧̧͜W̶͞e͢͝’͜l̴l ̵A̡̕͠w̶a̧͝y̧̨ ͞҉̴į̀͠ǹ̡͞t̷̕o͏͜ T̨͢h̡e̵̴̕ ̶̵͞C̸a҉̕ļm̶͟͞ ̷A̡̨̛n̶̷d̵̀̀ ̛T̴h̶́͞e̛͡ ̵Q̵u̶i͠e̡͝t͝

҉The children stood above their parents’ beds and infant siblings’ cribs, knives poised above the chests of those still slumbering, for a brief moment before- all at once- each child plunged the blade into their torsos, over and over. Screams of pain and terror echoed through the village as every adult and infant was simultaneously slaughtered by their own children and siblings.

C̸̛͡o͢͡m̛̕e̡͢ L̡i҉͢t̛͠t̨̡lè͞ ͜C̷͟h̸ild̴́͠r̢̀͜en ̶͠I̶’̛͟l̸͜͞l͢͡ T̨a̷͠k̨̕e̕ ͡T͟h̶҉e͢è̸̶ ͝A͏wà̷y̡͝,͜ ̡̡̛I̛͟͠n̡t̸o͜͏ ̛A̕͠͝ L̴̢͟ą̛͝n͏d̢ ҉͠Óf̴͡ ҉En̢҉c̴͟ha̸nt̶͘me͜҉n̨͡t̸ ̡̢ C͏om̧̢̨é͢͡ L͢͢i͝҉͟tt̀l̶͘e̛͡ ͝C̕͞hi̴̛l͢҉d̨͝re̸͜҉n͡͞ ͝T̶̶͘h́e͢ ͢͡Ti͜m̷͟é͟’̵̴s ̴̛C̢̀o͜m͝e̕ ̶̕T̕͡ǫ͠ ͠P̢̀͠l̴ay̶ H̴̕e͟͢͡r̶͘͢e̕͠͝ ̛͜I̢̢n ̀M̕y͡҉͟ Ǵa̡r̛̀d̷͜͠e̷͢n҉͜͝ O̸͏̛f̵̧ ̡S͢hád̴ow͢͟͏ś̷

When the air went still and silent and all of the adults and infants were dead, the children turned the knives on themselves without a sound. The instant the blade was pulled from their chests, however, each child ‘woke up’ from their stupors. One by one the children began screaming at the sight before them, screaming even louder as the pain in their chest registered.

Outside the area, the Mad dragon cackled with glee as he hopped down from the street light, pulling open the bag he held in his hands. Singing the song to himself, he slunk through the village, house by house, and gathered the souls as they were released, stuffing them into his bag.

When he was finished, he had roughly one-hundred souls in the sack. He tied it shut, giggling to himself as he resumed his twisted draconic form and took the free end of the rope that held it shut in his mouth. He wriggled with glee as he prepared to launch into the air. Master was going to be so proud of him. Yes, he was. A leap later, the Mad dragon was airborne, heading towards his Master.

It would be three days before anyone came to see why the town had gone silent. The lone survivor, the parish priest, had barricaded himself in his office when he’d heard the song while he’d been up, tending to his chapel’s candles. He was half-starved and bordering on dehydration when they’d finally found him, huddled in a corner of his office. The only thing anyone could get out of him was the song, sung in a terrified tone, as he clutched his legs to his chest and rocked.

Ć̷̢om̵͠e҉͟ Lit͝͡tl̡e ̢C̵h͝i͝l̴̢͢d̴r̶̛e̵ņ͢ I̸’ll̛ Ţą̛̛ke̵͜͢ ̵͡T̵̵h̡͘҉e͡e̷̢̕ ̸A̢w̡̧͡a҉y̴̧,҉̶ ͏͜Iǹ̨̧to͡ ͜A̵ ͜͏̸La̷͘n̴̨͜ḑ O͞f̡̕ ̷́͠E͘͜͠n҉҉c͝h̛͟͡an҉tm̀e͘͡n̷ţ̸̀ ̀͢ ͜C͜o͏̀m̀͞e҉͜ ́L̛̀i͢t̡͝t͞͡l̀e҉ ̧̕C̢̛h̵̕i̕l͞҉d̀͠͡r̸͡e͝n̷͘͞ T̨̀h̀͘͞e̴̴ ̵T͝i͟m͞͝e̛̛͡’͘ş ̕͘C̡o̴͢m͜e̡͏ T͏͢o̶̶ P͏͘l̸͜͢a̸y ̛͠Ḩ͢͡e͟r̸̀͠e ̀́͠I͠ǹ̸̡ ̕͢M̧͞y͘ ̶G͘҉a͠͞r͡͠d̡͏en ͟O͝f͢͏ ͞͠Ma͜gi̧͝c͘͘͞……..

[al-v9]

Re-posting to his new blog for easier finding