Post by kushiel on Feb 9, 2009 22:16:58 GMT -5
The ground fair trembled under his midnight paws, each finding their way along the invisible path his inner compass had set as the course. Kushiel's blood beat all the harder the closer he got to the bloodstained stones. All other thought was put aside as his body surged with a need to atone to his deity, his true leader.
A shift in the wind ruffled the dark brute thick ruff.
It was cold.
And it was harsh.
Kushiel radiated at the treatment, surely a reflection of the nature of the place he was about to come upon. Ah!, Mighty Wolfbane, your servant has come at last to your sacred ground! Quickening his lengthy stride, the twisted wolf that was Kushiel soon arrived at what Sahtara had described; the bloodstained stones.
Stopping as he came within view, Kushiel bowed his great head low to the ground before slowly approaching the stones. The blood had long since dried, but there was still a scent of it hanging in the air. As Kushiel came within touching distance of the stones, his eyes hazed over in a cloud of red, and his blood beat loudly in his ears. My Lord Wolbane, hear me! What will you have me do? Have I not served faithfully? His pleas were silent to the forest, but full of longing in his heart and mind.
Not fully aware of himself, Kushiel lifted his right forleg over the altar, and with the sharp claws of his left paw, quicky and neatly cut a thin line into his flesh, letting his blood come out in small drops, fresh scarlet against the ancient stains. Ah Gods!, he moaned.
Kushiel stood there for a while longer, deep in prayer as the blood trickled down his dark foreleg, invisible among his dark fur. But the scent, that was fresh, and while his wound was open, Kushiel remained in a trance, meditating in the name of Wolfbane.
Slowly, the red haze began to fade as his wound closed and the blood dried, and Kushiel set to the work of cleaning his right leg from his blood rites. A calm had taken over his mind now, and he could think clearly. First he would clean his wound, and then, he would scour the Malum territory for whatever it may contain.
A shift in the wind ruffled the dark brute thick ruff.
It was cold.
And it was harsh.
Kushiel radiated at the treatment, surely a reflection of the nature of the place he was about to come upon. Ah!, Mighty Wolfbane, your servant has come at last to your sacred ground! Quickening his lengthy stride, the twisted wolf that was Kushiel soon arrived at what Sahtara had described; the bloodstained stones.
Stopping as he came within view, Kushiel bowed his great head low to the ground before slowly approaching the stones. The blood had long since dried, but there was still a scent of it hanging in the air. As Kushiel came within touching distance of the stones, his eyes hazed over in a cloud of red, and his blood beat loudly in his ears. My Lord Wolbane, hear me! What will you have me do? Have I not served faithfully? His pleas were silent to the forest, but full of longing in his heart and mind.
Not fully aware of himself, Kushiel lifted his right forleg over the altar, and with the sharp claws of his left paw, quicky and neatly cut a thin line into his flesh, letting his blood come out in small drops, fresh scarlet against the ancient stains. Ah Gods!, he moaned.
Kushiel stood there for a while longer, deep in prayer as the blood trickled down his dark foreleg, invisible among his dark fur. But the scent, that was fresh, and while his wound was open, Kushiel remained in a trance, meditating in the name of Wolfbane.
Slowly, the red haze began to fade as his wound closed and the blood dried, and Kushiel set to the work of cleaning his right leg from his blood rites. A calm had taken over his mind now, and he could think clearly. First he would clean his wound, and then, he would scour the Malum territory for whatever it may contain.