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#Post#: 381--------------------------------------------------
Sister-Stitching!
By: Marustika Date: May 28, 2015, 12:29 pm
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CONTENT WARNING: GROSS UNDEAD SURGERY!
Candles in their sconces flickered in the shadows, barely
illuminating the body strapped to the table. The undead female
peered into the darkness with her milky orbs, seeing only
glimpses of the priestess's white robes as she bustled about.
There was a clatter of tools being slapped onto tray and the
squeak of the undead's wrists as she tested the leather. The
woman in white fully entered the view and gave the undead a
sweet, if not eager, smile. Zultannia gave a grin, her
apprehension still climbing. She shot a hopeful glance in the
corner of the room where her Wrathguard stood, receiving his
usual grunt in reply. The warlock sighed and looked back to her
sister.
"Maru, sweetie...are you sure this will work? Also, I know you
and Drizz may be into some special things, but are the straps
really necessary?" The priestess nodded, setting the tray of
scalpels, needles and various crooked instruments into view.
Zultannia grimaced, shuddering. Marus patted her lovingly on the
head and the pulled up the woman's blouse to reveal her stomach
and chest. Crude stitches and oozing gashes marred what used to
be soft flesh. Sections of her stomach were elevated as bulbous,
sloshy growths pushed to the surface. The warlock groaned and
looked away from her mess, only to receive a gentle kiss on the
forehead.
"Relax. I can get rid of your stitches and drain the excess
fluids. Give me some time and I can attend to the peeling skin,"
she said, gesturing to the woman's knees and elbows. Marus
picked up a sinister-looking scalpel and set it millimeters
above a hefty boil. "Ready? This will be the easy part. And to
answer your question, this isn't why you need the straps. The
bindings are for when we close you back up." Without a chance to
reply, Zultannia was cut open. Sickly green and yellow ichor
spilled from the slice and dribbled down her side and into a
bucket on the floor. The priestess gagged at the putrid stench
but she pressed on. After a full drain, Marus cut away the
stretched skin and moved on to the next boil, and then the next
one. Once she was finished, the undead was even more pockmarked
than before, all the sliced flesh showing off her lean, grayish
muscles underneath. The surgeon looked to the distended stomach,
setting down the scalpel and grabbing a hefty needle. "I'll have
to drain it before I can remove your stomach. Trying to cut it
out now will risk possible bursting and we can't afford to have
your good organs getting coated in whatever is in there." She
heard a pitiful grumble and took it as confirmation. Marus slid
the needle deep under the skin, feeling little resistance from
the rotted flesh. Feeling like she had gone far enough, Marus
pulled the plunger back, extracting a fetid mixture of
reddish-green ooze. This draining took 3 more insertions before
she felt secure in opening up the undead for removal. The needle
was placed back on the table and was exchanged for a clean
scalpel. As she set to work, her sister mewled and waved her
wrathguard over with her fingers. Hadrasax stomped close and
wrapped the woman's tiny fingers in his own. The undead closed
her eyes as Marus lifted out a bloated and diseased stomach,
dropping it into the bucket with a sloshing sound. The pain was
tolerable, the gift of unlife bringing a sense of numbness and
detachment to the body. The draining and removal actually
alleviated a good deal of pressure, which was relaxing in its
own way. She sighed in relief as Marus snipped and pulled the
crude stitches free.
Marus took a moment to examine her work. The subject lay on the
table, her pockmarks and sizable incision dribbling. The undead
looked up to her sister, a wane smile lighting up the twin's
face.
"Now what? Do I get the absolute pleasure of learning about
these confounded straps?" Casual sarcasm was a feature that was
well-missed and Marus gave her another kiss on the head, her
lips brushing against the whispy black locks. The priestess
closed her eyes and opened the metaphysical third one. Visions
of a distorted world faded into view, shadows and lights dancing
and mingling in ways not thought possible. She glanced over at
the demon, gasping at the green and purple flames that made up
his body. His visage, even metaphysical, was imposing. Making a
mental note to check out Garygal later, Marus turned back to her
subject, scanning Zultannia for her power center. The power
Center was typical of any undead that was raised and served as a
conduit as well as a rechargeable power source. The warlock's
center rested just below her heart and was a dim little white
Light. Marus rested her hands above the chest and paused, taking
the time to discern the resonance frequency. Matching the
frequency would make it possible for her foreign magic to meld
with that of the Val'kyr. Being away from Sylvanas and her
Val'kyr for so long, Zultannia's magical center was underfed,
which attributed to her rot. Though convincing her to return to
her mistress was a nigh impossible feat, the undead distrusting
of the Banshee Queen's motives.
Back in the physical plane, Zultannia watched as her sister's
visage grew shadowy and dark, visible skin cracking like
strained porcelain. She squeezed Hadrasax's hand and he grunted
in reply once more. Her consort's tail swished back in forth,
taking great care to avoid the reeking bucket. He watched as
well, seeing Marus on the shadow as well as three other planes
of being. What he say made him growl and rest his free hand on
his blade. Zultannia gave his hand another squeeze as Marus
lowered her hands onto her chest. The now faceless figure turned
it's gaze to the undead.
"Thisssss will hurt," it said, voice seeming to fade in and out.
But that mattered little as the fingertips brushed against the
warlock's flesh. Her nerves burned and seared as the shadowy
tendrils dug deep into her metaphysical form. Her body twitched
and convulsed, the power center resisting the new energy. Marus
slowed her assault, taking the time to re-adjust her frequency.
Zultannia's body settled and she pressed on with little
resistance. The shadows flowed into the power core, recharging
and invigorating it and it's carrier. The undead let out a
pleasurable groan as her body stitched itself back together. The
flayed skin on her joints mended and the holes from her grisly
stitches faded. Fel-magics crackled at her fingertips as the
excess of energy continued to feed her. Satisfied that her
sister was in a better state of being, Marus withdrew her power,
shadows pulling free and dissipating. Her third eye shut and her
body shifted from the shadow plane. She gasped and braced her
weary body against the table, taking a moment to look at her
work.
Her twin, while still dead, could almost pass off for sickly,
yet alive. Zultannia's grayish skin was pristine and whole, her
once dim eyes now invigorated and blinding with their golden
brilliance. Her stomach and chest were soft and warm to the
touch, possibly due to an energy excess which would be burned
off soon. Hadrasax slid a claw down his master's stomach,
growling with what seemed to be approval. Marus unlocked her
sister's restraints and stepped away to give her room to
stretch. The undead leapt from the table and all but tackled her
sister, gripping her in a vice-like hug. The sisters giggled as
they did when they were children and cheered into the darkness,
the candles in their sconces dwindling into nothing.
#Post#: 382--------------------------------------------------
Re: Sister-Stitching!
By: Sila Date: May 28, 2015, 12:41 pm
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This was one of the darkest, and yet most beautiful character
stories I've ever read xD I wish Mouse had gotten a chance to
meet Zultannia. Wow, the more I learn about Marus' backstory and
see the way she responds to things, the more I love her!! :D
#Post#: 385--------------------------------------------------
Re: Sister-Stitching!
By: Marustika Date: May 31, 2015, 3:41 pm
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Daw Mouse, that means a lot to me! Actually I was planning on
race changing my warlock into a human and rping her as a
smuggled undead soooooo...Maybe ;)
#Post#: 386--------------------------------------------------
Re: Sister-Stitching!
By: Sila Date: May 31, 2015, 4:04 pm
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AHHh!! That's be awesome! Littlebee is ICly smuggled into
Stormwind now haha, Mouse has weird secret horde affiliations
and all that jazz :D
#Post#: 393--------------------------------------------------
Re: Sister-Stitching!
By: Nora Date: June 3, 2015, 12:51 pm
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Fantastic writing skills! <3 I mean, I knew you were good from
what little RP I have seen but this is definitely 10/10 :D <3
The whole story concept too is great ^_^!
#Post#: 454--------------------------------------------------
Re: Sister-Stitching!
By: Marustika Date: August 7, 2015, 12:50 am
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Hours before dawn, when all was to be still and quiet, the
Kindlewood estate's mistress and her kin bickered. Marus
languished in her plush armchair, snuggling into the cushions
while Zultannia railed and berated her. She couldn't understand
everything that spewed from the undead's mouth, too bored and
too tired to care. Marus faded back in just as her sister was
gaining momentum.
"And another thing! You go and visit that maggot-riddled mess of
a monster before you'd even come to see me? Me, your own sister!
How could you still be in the same room as him? Did you know
that he killed-"
Marus raised a weary hand, stopping her. She lifted her head to
meet the undead with a stern look that sent chills down
Zultannia's spine.
"My dear, sweet, sister...I am well aware of the murder and I
suppose it's my fault that you are reacting in such a fashion. I
failed to impress upon you the severity of the organization with
which I associate and serve. But it would've been inpossible to
teach you the most valylueable of lessons; We are not the heroes
of this story. We are the monsters, monsters who kill our own
kind and make sacrifices all so that the innocent and pure can
thrive. We are the villains and when this is all over, success
will be when we are the only villains left. The Silent, whether
it's leader knows it or not, is headed down the proper path to
dominating crime and ruling the underworld...for peace". Marus
said her piece, never one pulling her gaze away from Zultannia.
The undead shook in place, a mixture of fury and disbelief
boiling in her remaining length of intestine.
"He-he corrupted you, you wouldn't..." Zultannia stammered.
Marus rose from the armchair, the plates in her armor creaking
and cracking. She purposefully undid the clasps and bindings,
letting the piece fall to the floor. The priestess stood before
her, completely bare. She smirked and stalked to a nearby
wardrobe and draped her pale flesh in a white silk robe, the
fabric giving only the faintest hints of the soft pink flesh
rippling neath. As Marus settled back in the chair she resumed
the deadlock stare, a wane smile being the only difference from
before.
"Caleb Norwill has been and always will be my friend. And yet
there is more to it and seemingly nothing. He embraced me for
all that I am, even after I sought to destroy him and his kith.
I don't need to hide myself around him and he can be himself in
my presence, without fear of perjury."
Zultannia opened her mouth to protest and was silenced once more
with a hand.
"Caleb Norwill is not a good man, but he is a great one. Eveya
is the pretty face, ideal that we pretend to embody, but Caleb
is the soul and blade of this organization and I will not see
you do what you're planning," Marus continued. "You, like me,
have a penchant for rebellion with innocent death as the
catalyst. But trust me when I say that you will not stop him.
Your benevolence and sense of good will are admirable but that's
not enough to save the world." The priestess nearly drowned her
sister's earnest and fiery spirit with her countless words, the
lessons harsh and unrelenting. The undead let this wash over
her, self doubt creeping into her mind, but did not relent. She
stood her ground, clenching her fists.
"It seems the lines have been drawn, but hear me and know me for
my power. Magic is your ally but words are my weapons; I can
turn Stormwind against you with a few well-placed whispers."
Zultannia lowered her voice. "I implore you, please help me. You
can still turn back. We can still have a life together," she
pleaded. Marus responded with a mirthless laugh and flew open
her robes to expose her flesh. Like breaking porcelain, the skin
cracked and broke apart, giving way to a fetid, murky ooze that
dribbled down her legs and pooled at her feet. The slime seemed
to wriggle and writhe, miniscule mouths and sharp teeth snapping
at the air.
"Do you see now? Even if I wanted a life of peace and plenty, it
is beyond my grasp. I am a devourer, an abomination, cursed by
my hubris and hunger for knowledge. I see no reason to deviate
from the path that has been lain before me. If I am to be a
monster, I might as well make use of it. Caleb understands this
and I hope one day that you follow."
#Post#: 462--------------------------------------------------
Re: Sister-Stitching!
By: Marustika Date: August 12, 2015, 1:26 pm
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Post-Surgery Analysis
Dissection and Observations cataloged by Marus L. Veshiron
Due to the sheer strangeness that is my body, I felt the need to
conduct a bit of research for the sake of simply knowing myself
and my limits. I will eventually feel the need to pen the
process which tainted my flesh and dissolved my innards, but
that isn't nearly as fascinating to me at the moment. Even
though it may sound vain, I feel as though I am a creature
deserving of study; I have lived through harrowing attacks,
incidents that would destroy a lesser being. Time and time again
I wonder what crawls 'neath my skin and why I dribble and spit
consistently. Do I even have a heart? What of my bones, and
where does my food go after consumption? I don't defecate, and
my weight and size remain fairly consistent. With these
questions in mind, I settled on my table. In my haste, I
neglected the standard act of sanitizing the area as well as my
tools, but the thrill of self-dissection was too tantalizing and
spurred me on. A lengthy incision from the base of my rib cage
to just above my abdomen made me wriggle and Forced me to stuff
a wad of cloth in my mouth to muffle the whimpers. In
retrospect, hurting oneself isn't nearly as agonizing as being
attacked; The shock seems to elevate the anxiety in that case.
Unexpectedly, slime and muck did not seep out from the cut and
dribble down my sides like water. Like a thick pudding, my
insides seemed to hold their position and were unwilling to
leave their container. I redid my cut, pushing deeper in an
attempt to cut through what should've been muscle. Surprisingly
there was nothing. My abdominal muscles weren't present and I
was just cutting through more pudding. I pulled my skin away
from the slice to get a better look, slowly pushing my hand
inside the bile. I felt and felt around, not feeling the
expected organs. No stomach, no liver, just pudding. While I
dallied, fiddling with my insides, my flesh started to knit. I
withdrew my hand and re-did the incision while my mouth started
to dribble. I hypothesize that the dribbling and the mending of
flesh are related. I noted that the consistency of the mouth
bile and stomach pudding are different, the bile being much more
viscous and slippery, having a slightly grayish tinge. If I do
not have a digestive system, perhaps anything I consume is
dissolved into the pudding. So as to regulate my mass and
maintain homeostasis I drool and dribble, expelling the used
biomass. Its lackluster sheen and difficulty holding its shape
must mean that whatever nutrients, if any, have been used up. As
for my violent vomiting spree after my attack, I believe that I
can rapidly use up the possible nutrients of my pudding to keep
myself alive; Using up any slime means that it must be removed
to make space so the rate of expulsion and healing are very
close. On a side note, the beating in my chest that I once
thought to be a heartbeat was proven to be just the regular
motion of my slime, circulating so as to prevent stagnation. The
only things I have left in my body that are natural are my
bones, which I suppose are used for structure and holding up
this watery sack.
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