#sadistic-thresh

[goldenfists]

unprompted ask // always accepting !! well. there were few of these types in the world anymore. cyan eyes drank in the form of the monstrously tall man. someone who was perhaps even a little taller than the lean mystery man. could sett feel it? the twinge against his vastayan heritage? the plague that seeped, diseased in entrapment beyond the realms of life.. and death..? or was he simply a creepy human who seemed intrigued by the arena? "tell me of this.." a gesture towards the large structure. doors open. inviting. beckoning his gaze briefly before it finds sett once again, "--event. what is its purpose?" clever, he thought himself. nobody else seemed bothered by his presence, but perhaps.. they may give him a little more room when filtering around him to enter the doors. subconscious. driven to some semblance of instinctive safety.  ( @sadistic-thresh​ )

the   half-beast   seemed   moulded   from   a   different   cast   as   he   had   a   stance   uncommon   to   those   performed   by   most   beings.   prominent   veins   and   complexion   enamelled   by   the   sun,   he   radiated   energy   and   wrath,   dominance   and   power.   it   made   him   more   like   a   king   than   the   bastard   boy   he   was   once   named   ㅡ   with   both   loyal   lieutenants   standing   close,   there   were   few   who   dared   to   come   closer   and   engross   in   a   short   interaction.   apparently,   the   newcomers   were   not   quite   the   same.   ❝   it   depends   on   whatcha   want,   in   the   end.   ❞   his   mountain   peak   cheekbones   appeared   chiselled   into   shape   by   godly   hands   albeit   his   vox   seemed   composed   by   the   most   atrocious   hellish   form.   ❝   gold?   reputation?   stress   release?   vengeance?   the   list   goes   on   and   on...   and   there   are   always   reasons   to   return.   ❞   prominent   veins   decorated   limbs   crossing   upon   his   chest,   little   heed   being   paid   to   the   figure   occupying   unwanted   personal   space.   ❝   whatever   is   your   cup   of   tea.   the   question   is...   do   y'   think   you   have   what's   needed?   ah.   ❞

[plectrumis]

You value things in this world that I do not.

I Medici S02E02 Sentence Starters

"Well that's obvious. I don't see why you have to be so dull."

Rakan hissed between his teeth, he had heard stories of Thresh's acts. Part of him was terrified; as he he should be. He knew he needed to tread carefully but he couldn't help his attitude from coming out.

"There's so many beautiful things in this world. Food, art, magic.... ME. What happened in your life to make you so cold?" He scoffed, keeping an eye on the other. "Keep that lantern away from me, that shade of green would look awful on me."

[virtuosin]

A voice.. unlike anything she might have ever heard before, creeps into the air around her. "Ah.." a breath, reverberating eerily into the air around her, "A musician. Will you.. /sing/ for me, or shall I extract your hidden melody..?" Black mists spill from the shadows and beneath her bed, creeping up like tendrils grabbing at the air, and crawling along the walls to the ceiling. Darkness warps into a smiling skeletal visage as his form manifests like something from a nightmare.

It starts quietly. In through her parted balcony doorway came the dewy glow of moonlight. The milky brilliance spilled through the crack, illuminating her bedside. It was a picturesque bedroom, one of marble white and ivory décor, only with the splashes of gold and touch of cobalt here and there. It gave a sense of openness and light, even in the dead of night--and with the balcony available to her, the starlight would heighten everything with its luster. That included the mystifying glint off her beloved etwahl which stationed itself beside her bed, near to the balcony, as if it were safeguarding its mistress while admiring the perfect vista of an unblemished night sky. And then something shudders. The door would slip shut, and before the etwahl has time to alert the maven, a breath echoes in the room. It’s a wheeze, a threatening cadence, one that does not lack in malevolence and deviancy. From where she had laid prone, Sona immediately tears herself from her slumber and sits straight up, body stiff as a board. The shadows grow, the hazy plume coalescing and giving life to something obscene and unnatural. Sona watches in the now dull light how darkness threatens her abode, swallowing her up in a world of black mist and nightmares. At once she feels her heart seize up, terror striking the very core of this maven’s heart. Instinctively, the etwahl flies from its perch and is positioned above the bed, just before Sona. It was as if it’d shield the woman from any harm, or that it was prepared to fend off this foreign threat once she was ready to dispatch it--but what was this threat? How did it arrive at her bedroom, targeting the woman solely? Why not the Prince, or someone more auspicious such as a Crownguard, or even her mother? Doubt gnashes its teeth from deep within, questions she fears she won’t have the time to answer. Instead, Sona watches with both dread and awe in features as this creature weaves itself into reality, revealing a skeletal-like terror from the mists. Petrified, Sona was only reminded to breathe when the etwahl gave out a warning trill. “Wh-Who are you?” Sona calls out, not daring to care about decorum or secrecy. This thing--this being--was not natural. It was beyond her comprehension and it surely went beyond her understanding, which spoke volumes as a woman born to the mystical First Lands. Eyes narrow, then widen again, magnifying the brilliant glimmer behind her cerulean eyes. “W-Why have you come to me? I seek no quarrel with you...” Was it curiosity that kept her speaking albeit stuttering? Or was it an innate fear to budge a muscle, as if daring herself to not move lest she incur an unsavory reaction? This thing had her dead to rights, cornered on her bed with the look of a prey caught in a trap. Surely she would have to fight her way out of this, for this...thing...how slim it would be that it would appeal to diplomacy and civil discussion. But for now she waited, too terrified and morbidly intrigued to accelerate the situation.

[islesdamned]

"You have been silent for some time." Commented Thresh with eyes narrowed, cast out across the edge of the Isles. Amusement laced his skull visage with ethereal flames locking along every detail upon it. The Warden was never a part of the Ruined King's kingdom prior to the desolation of the Blessed Isles. Where was his loyalty then? To the King? Or to himself?

Spectral eyes gazed upon the lands, a blade in hand and his grip tight. Viego turns his head to face him, his ire becoming more visible the longer he stared. For the reason he had to be were in the whispers of Isolde. His blade spoke to him, where exactly she was this entire time. And just what she had experienced. The king’s glare gave no quarter. 

     “In times of thought, I must stay silent. For the words of my love... she has quite the stories within her. Especially with that woman... Senna... that was her name.” 

He makes a step, now fully facing the warden with egregious discontent. Viego takes steps down from the balcony, passing Thresh some feet away. Something about his aura was more sinister. Malicious. Followed by the tinge of melancholy as well. From the way he stood, and the way he walked. Only negative feelings. All channeled towards his loyal warden. 

     “I trust that you of all people would know that name, am I correct?” 

His voice had not carried curiosity, but an outstanding anger. He absolutely knew where Isolde was. And all the time she had spent inside of Senna. With that, he could conclude where Isolde must have gone the moment Thresh took Senna for his own indulgence. Viego’s temper could remain so patient, as he had hoped that he was wrong. That he had no reason to be angry towards Thresh. That it wasn’t treachery, or better yet, he wasn’t aware of his possession of the Queen herself. 

[whxlmedwing]

"Cling clang go the chains~" a distorted, eerie voice echoes through the darkness. Black mists enveloping all that they touch with screams sheering through the minds the people close by. The terrors that wake upon this moment are unfathomable, reaching out beyond the veil of death to embrace the living in icy talons, "--it's too late to run."

@sadistic-thresh

Is it really too much to ask to be able to enjoy the thinning of the veil without a rude interruption by a some demon? No rest for the wicked it seems.

Yasuo strides confidently past the throngs of panicked mortals. The most tries to wrap itself around Yasuo, tries to engulf him, but whatever magic that repairs his body endlessly also keeps the madness at bay. He is no stranger to the stories, he knows what lurks in the dark. It doesn’t phase him anymore.

“I’m not running,” he replies casually as the screams fade behind him. It’s just maddening silence now.

[nithhaiahh]

"Do you hear it?" The eerie echo of the Warden's voice lapped at the air like the blackened waters splashed against the forbidden sands, "They prepare. They wait. Like restless sheep for the slaughter." A glance to the side, eldritch flame burning through the hollow sockets of his skull visage, "I do wonder.." Narrowed gaze with hook in grip, "--what will you do.. when the Harrowing comes.."

The little girl looked up, keeping her feet at the edge of the dark waters and sand. A couple of years ago she would’ve been scared, after all it was Thresh, the chain warden. But practicing for so long with Karthus and living in this place gave her a sort of confidence. Then again, any creature of the Isles could perceive she still held a mortal side within her: 

"I don't know. Usually I enjoy the festival with the rest of the mortals, I love to sing during the midnight ceremony and get the attention of a couple of souls but this time I was thinking that, perhaps, I should join the rest of the entities and chase them. On the other hand, I'm pretty new, so I'm not entirely sure if I should or not. I’m not as strong as uncle pony, nor can I control the undead magic like dad.”

[remember-no-more]

The Harrowing had feathered its way into the reaches of Ionia more and more as the years went by. Black mists threatening to overtake the lands. It had always been a jovial time for the wraith. A chance to terrify, and collect. A chance to plot his next victims, searching for only the best. It began with the sound of chains. The haunting rhythm of danger approaching. And then the glow of eldritch flames, in the distance. In the blink of an eye, the spectral form was there. Looming down upon her.

They said the Black Mist was spreading more and more across the seas as time passed. Many told tales about how the undead invaded especially Bilgewater, but the truth was that nowhere could be considered completely safe from the Harrowing when the right time came. 

Mirabelle had heard plenty of stories like those, personal tragedies of loss and torment. The descriptions defined the Mist as something you could just hope to be prepared enough to face if it ever found you. Those words were what she remembered when the clinking sound reached her ears. 

She whispered something while waving her hands in front of herself as the feeling of being watched creepily crawled on her back. A soft white light seemed to circle her for a moment, right before disappearing and concentrating in a small sphere above her palms. That was when she noticed the flames... She remained silent, she gulped silently but felt her throat dry. She might have summoned a form of protection, but it probably gave away her exact position...

And now here she was, facing a much taller figure she couldn’t but stare at, pretty much frozen on the spot.

“This is no place for you,” she heard herself whisper after a short while.

@sadistic-thresh

[decouteausshadow-blog]

"Your kill count is lacking... I'm disappointed.. Perhaps.. I should focus on the killer more than the killed.. less you appease me better. That... is all that stands between you.. and my plucking you from this life, and introducing you to another. Do try harder."

“I would much rather not have my life quite taken from me yet. I already lost it once in a duel, I would like to keep this one before I move to another. If it’s souls you wish for then fine, just stick by for when I am given more missions, that is when you can feed.”