Today's Document
tannertan36
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Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
almost home
Love Begins
Discoholic 🪩
cherry valley forever
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ojovivo
Peter Solarz
@theartofmadeline
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@profanedblood-blog
@zarathian
“Come now, my bride-to-be! Is that any way to address your betrothed? To treat those who do nothing but care for you? To act against a member of my congregation is to act against me, and I shall tolerate no such thing from you.
“Is that a challenge, witch boy?”
‘ OH, NO, SIR, it wasn’t a challenge at all. I was only having fun. It was a joke.‘
“A joke. Ah, of course, It must have been a joke! Surly one wouldn’t dare think to seriously challenge their Brother Blood... Why don’t you tell another, hmm? I’m sure my congregation would be more than pleased.”
throws a dead, mangled cat through the Church of Blood's window
“WHO PUTS A STAIN GLASS MURAL OF TRIGON IN A SUBTERRAINIAN TEMPLE?”
i'm going to kill you :^)
“Is that a challenge, witch boy?”
‘ ——are you denying my flesh and blood ? is it not to your liking . ‘
the fox had been T R U E with her words as she wasn’t someone to do something without offering something in return . if those were the rules / law then the she-fox has no choice to abide by it . carmine robes had slipped off exposing porcelain shoulder . ebony locks already tied up into a E L A B O R A T E design . a hand extends , claw pointed sharp only to slit underneath collarbone allowing such sugary substance to trickle .
‘ hmm . ‘
He approaches on haughtily measured steps, a pointed finger dabbing at the blood before bringing it to his mouth- wasting no time in bringing them to his lips, savoring the metallic tinge of inhuman blood.
Blessed be Trigon! How wonderful an offering, how riveting a sensation! Powerful magic and inhuman spirit, that of the forest- of it’s creatures! Tongue laps over his lips one last time before the priest brings his mouth over the slit. Fangs scraping at skin and mouth suckling greedily at crimson liquid.
“What flavor, what might! Tell me, visitor, what are you to be blessed with blood so delectable?”
“It’s Brother Blood, yeah? I knew a Baron Blood once. He was total fucking nutter too. Any relation?”
“Quite unlikely, my family has kept in the habit of only keeping one son for quite some time. The son must kill the father and bath in his blood, such has been our way since the inquisitions... Now, shall you tell us just what business you have with my congregation?” Certainly it had nothing to do with the fresh blood dripping from off the high priest’s hand, or the handful of red-garbed cultist that currently picked at a corpse behind him.
“Ah, I do believe I hear the knelling of wedding bells!”
There’s like... Forty-three of you guys here! Quick, let’s all hope into the celebratory blood pits! Show Ra’s al Ghul how it’s really done.
❛ that’s going to be a PASS from me. ❜ she took a cautionary step backwards, as if she had entered an ( eyes wide shut ) scenario and she didn’t bring the proper mask it wasn’t something that she was wanting to be involved in, no matter the compliment that he may had extended towards her.
“Then you trespass on hallowed ground without tribute.” He growls- hand falling to his side. All around them, masked cultists garbed in their red and black robes watch on silently- some even holding their bent and twisted daggers close to their chest, anticipating any order from their Brother Blood to attack.
“Your name, sinner. I wish to know it so that I might write it within Lord Trigon’s book.”
▸▸ ❛ @profanedblood
❛ s o r r y ! you want me to do what ? ❜ she would give him another opportunity to edit his inquiry or melt to the floor beneath him entirely.
“Your blood, let me taste of it.” Brother Blood of course poses the question once again- surely no different than he had previously. “I sense great arcane power within you, power I wish to use to bolster my own. You may offer it to me freely or I can BATHE in it by force. I assure you one is infinitely less painful than the other.”
goat by dekades8
( @profanedblood wants to get weird. )
Blood is what makes tragedy thrive; it’s how Homeric heroes were acknowledged when entering the domain of the dead. Suddenly, when skin is slashed, the ghost of greats take interest in the entirety, begging that he bestow more blood for their presence to be prolonged and perfected. She remembers reddened rivers, basking in brutality from the offerings he supplied. So maybe she wasn’t the spirit he sought, but he graced her with both glory and gore. Endless streams of ecstasy floated onto her ivory existence, bestowing a creature with cardinals, giving this killer color. He made her laugh when stuck in this wretched realm, but upon embracing freedom, he was the first form she sought as a means of expressing her appreciation. ❛ Being of brutal breath, bless the blood you’ve offered… I came to offer my loyalties, if of course, you accept this apparition. I know very well I’m not the specter you seek, but the pain I invoke comes with passion - something rare in the revolting wretches who try to triumph these days. ❜
“I accept your loyalty wholly, specter- but would you offer the same to my lord and master, Trigon? To the longevity and wellbeing of his faithful? The Church of Blood is Trigon’s to do with as he pleases, we are but humble servants to a vast and almighty power the likes of which mortal minds might only envision in their darkest of nightmares. To serve our visceral lord is the highest honor one could strive towards!” Crimson eyes glimmered with the fanatical intensity of one given solely to their faith.
Clasped within taloned fingers was a deep, golden chalice. Quite old and still baring the stains of past offerings. Filled with swirling, vibrant blood, Sebastian holds it for the banshee to take. “Blood of blood. Drink, and your loyalty shall be bound by communion.”
and the vixen stands clad in crimson robes , why is she here ? a very good question because the spiritual woman finds her curiosity dwelling within this ( E M P I R E ) . oh , he even tried to belittle her by S P I T T I N G the word creature , how humorous .
‘ is the word creature meant to belittle me , priest ? ‘
because it isnt working .
‘ depends on what you call a T R I B U T E . ‘
and explain who TRIGON is .
“IT is meant to be taken however you wish.”
His reply is curt, the crimson glow dissipating within clenched claws. Yes, he had intended to try and wound the creature who had so nonchalantly intruded upon his proceedings. “Have you blood to spill? Flesh to give? Sin to lay upon my pedestal? Ours is a Lord of blood and destruction, conqueror of realms innumerable and extinguisher of souls uncountable! As his emissary I pledge to you that he is not of the habit to grant safe passage of those who come upon his holy grounds unbidden.”
@ahrisms
“Deceit comes easy to the foolish, but alas I am no fool. What business have you in intruding upon such sacred ground, creature?” The Priest questions from his throne of bone, red magics similar in hue to the very blood he so cherished. “Perhaps you’ve come to pay tribute to our Lord Trigon?”
@chemicallybleached liked for a ‘this’ for a starter
“Blood is truly FAR too precious to waste! How you can spill it so freely and not indulge... Why, I simply cannot fathom it!” The priest waves a clawed hand through the air dismissively as he speaks- yellowed teeth showing through the shade of Blood’s bone miter in a grin of his own. Such wasted potential in you, clown.”
Taloned fingers rake lightly across the quivering flesh that lay chained to the stone monolith. Hand briefly lingers upon the breast before removing itself, an ornate and fearsome dagger held surely in place. The dagger is raised, bone blade and gold hilt. It’s anchient, having been used since the Church of Blood’s conception well before the Spanish Inquisition.
Attention now is turned to the countless shining eyes glued to their Brother’s form. Waiting with bated breath for the cherished red to spill, to seep down the old stone steps and pool at their feet- filling thousands of carved runes carved into the vast cavern’s floor.
“Blood for Trigon! We shed our lives, we shed our SKIN.” Brother Blood announces finally to uproarious praise, parroting the High Priest’s words back at him. The cavern is charged, bad vibes and an almost palpable cloud of arcane energies blacker than the night sky hang over each and every man woman and child present. They chant again, again and again. A mantra of the fellest kind.
We shed our lives!
The lamb awakens, naked and bare before a cavernous hall of leering faces and gleaming eyes. A man looms over him, draped in reds and golds. A skull crown placed upon his head, and in his hand a twisted blade.
We shed our skin!
Nary a scream escapes as the dagger is plunged into their breast. Blood pours freely, seeping into the blade, into the floor, into Brother’s white prayer-shawl. A quick twist, the hole is deepened. More blood, the black cloud becomes real to some, demons dance and wanton moans echo throughout the cave.
All hail Trigon the Terrible!
A heart- plump and red- is shown to the crowd of fevered acolytes, steaming and just nearly done beating. Talons squeeze, blood pours from the heart, from the twitching and lolling corpse with the hole in it’s chest. Another squeeze, the congregation cheer and moan. The festivities begin and Brother Blood consumes the heart whole.
