The waiting one. ( Ask before joining.)


King of King's

A freak, show a veritable puddle of putrid shit rising up from the forgotten depths of creation to stain forever the confines of the universe. Thus was the world and all whom inhabited it. Dead, they thought him dead? How amusing and how completely unfounded as if some would be crusader of the light could vanquish that which could be comprehended. No it was only his own heart that had sent the overlord into that endless sleep. A longing even his own strength could not fulfill. Something needed to such a degree it had shattered his will to conquer leaving him a shell of what he had once been. Yet now something stirred within his kingdom something familiar.

There was a pull to it an almost irresistible aroma of power and seduction that brought his mind from its endless reflection. Deep within the destruction of a battle long ago carried out crimson eyes did open a smile upon the face of dominance incarnate. The time had come for his return, for she beckoned and he would not disappoint.

Smoke billowed forth from the depths of the land as if Ayen herself had exhaled leaving a spark of destruction in its wake. Rising high into the sky, billowing forth until even the mighty light of the sun could neither be seen nor felt. Then as the grip of darkness seemed to fall upon the land forever more that spark would ignite the flames of hell itself.

Heat the likes of which the land had not seen since creation would tower upward scorching the earth in its spiral. Anything unfortunate enough to be in its path sent quickly to its final rest as flame melted the very rocks, turning sand to pure glass before crackling and exploding in a massive cloud of flame that could be seen for miles. The result a towering inferno that raged forth from the earth giving rise to a shadow in its depths. A darkness that seemed caressed by the flame as if it were but the sweetest of lovers and as that embraced parted the lord of hellfire would be born anew.

Through hellfire and brimstone he would come the beautiful lord of the flames and rightful heir to Ayenee. Black silks followed gracefully out from the alabaster god as if flames dared not mar even his raiment. Pale skin kissed by the heat of flames as if they sought only to lure his gaze, existed only for his breath.

Dark booted feet would touch again his lands leaving their mark where he stood and as the flames died away to the depths from which they had come true beauty would be there to behold. Perfectly angled features as if sculpted by the hand of some god offset by crimson eyes that seemed to stare into the very soul of the entire universe and find it wanting. Only strands of ravenesque hair daring to defile that gaze wich seemed to hold such ferocity as to bring the creator to its knees. A great red streak spiraling from strand to strand as they made their way down eloquent shoulders as if to ascend to the earth itself only to cut short at back level he had returned and done so with a purpose in his eyes.

Dusa sat his gaze upon what he still considered his kingdom smiling at the perfection of his plan for all had gone he willed. She alone possessed the blade for it always been her. She was the true sword of Ayenee and no blade could match her splendor it was but a trinket in her hands of no consequence. Now he would call and he knew she would come, for there was much to discuss it was time for their fates to tangle once again in perfect symmetry as they always had.

He moved the wicked grace of a serpent into the city and as he made his passage all eyes would fall upon his splendor. A being the likes of which long they had been deprived , a god in human form. A few guards did dare block his path but all were consumed by the heat of his aura. Reduced to ashes in his wake as if the wind itself had but carried them away to oblivion. He had no time for mortals and would suffer not the indignity of their simplicity for privileged they were to merely breath his air. Pale digits did touch upon the frame of a door. The texture of the wood the first he had touched in years uncounted. He marveled for a moment at the feel of civilization beneath his fingers once again. His time had truly come it seemed.

Crimson eyes drifted upward at the sign which hung over this place proclaiming it the serpents tail inn. A small smirk did grace his perfection for a moment as amusement filtered into his consciousness and then passed away to nothing as he pushed gracefully through the doors taking in the burning hearth within.

A simple inn by design the serpent's tail was perhaps too quaint for his tastes. The saw dust covered floors and dirty glasses of mead offending his sensibilities to no end. However he could not wait for this encounter any longer, the moment had come. Sliding up to the bar he looked calmly at the homely bar keeper as if contemplating his fate. Even before he could speak several patrons had advanced only to find themselves consumed by a lithe serpent of pure flame as Set did uncoil from his person lashing its flames out upon them, encasing them with pure brimstone as their lives found themselves forfeit to the whim of the pale god.

Dusa smiled at the bar keep holding his hand out as a bottle of red wine flew from the shelf into his grasp and he opened it inhaling its sweet and sour scent. Two silver goblets appearing before him as he filled them to their brim and sat the bottle aside.

Already there was a tension to the air, a heat as if the sun itself had born down upon this place with all its unearthly might. The land reverberated with his presence drawing in the power from the very air creating a vacuum of power that could be felt by the aware for miles around. More than that he called to the blade and through it called to her, beckoning it to him and with it the object of his utmost desire.

Even as statuesque flesh burned at his back he could only see her in his mind eye. Not as the destroyer most saw her as not even as the seductive creature she was but as only he knew her to her core. Only as he had seen her and no one else, vulnerable at the command of wild abandon his true heart with her beauty on full display. The thought stole the breath from the god of hellfire as if he were but a simple mortal beholding the beauty of a goddess in flesh. He stilled his heart of such thoughts for this was not the time or place, he had come to claim his fate and he would not be detoured from what was rightfully his.

He whispered her name upon the wind knowing it would find her ears for even as ages passed he knew it always would for she was his even if she thought it not so. Atra'Lamia.. it carried with the grace of a beautiful song upon the wind and with all of his intent the true overlord of Ayenee did wait for its queen.

The Raven of Dispersion

Atra'Lamia Darkbane
ˑˑˑˑᴬᶰᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵏᶤᵉˢ ˢʰᵃˡˡ ᵗᵘʳᶰ ᵇˡᵃᶜᵏˑˑˑˑ

Scarlet pestilence and war--
has now refunded to the cold winds
The breath of all its peoples;
delivering now such ravenous gifts--
The decay in night's abysmal vault,
prepares all for departure.
From afar,
seest thou not the towering of wings,
like thunder on the sunset?
Eternally widening... those vans involve
and stifle half the light on the further stars;
Or worlds unknown of the outer infinite,
now intends the darkness of its course;
On planets haply poised,
making permanent the sable sun's eclipse...."

The Prologue

Several moons have passed since their arrival here and yet it still went unnoticed by the inhabitants of the Old World. Changes and developments within Ayenee over the last few centuries had been quite severe. (Domini Noctis) The Shadow Warriors of Rydin had conquered most part of the southern lands and Amasia was in coccineus hands, much to the disapproval of the original sovereigns of these once powerful metropolis states.

Remaining members of the Darkfire aristocracy were trying to gather support among the other Ayenian states in order to initiate an uprising against their northern Rhydin rulers and the Eastern Tenarian Empires and Western Imperials (Eden), under unified banners are preparing their campaign move against the rebelling Empires.

It was time to strike indeed.

Yᴏᴜ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ sᴇᴇ ᴘᴀsᴛ ᴛʜɪs﹐ ᴘᴀsᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴅ ᴏғ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜɪɴɢs. Aɴᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪs ᴡʜʏ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ғᴀʟʟᴇɴ.

There are countless worlds, empires, kingdoms and lands that exhibit the blemishes of war. Numerous legends about the chaos caused by the tyranny of warmonger and monarch; and though this may beleaguer innumerable nations, the price is unavoidably the same, no matter whose head holds the burden of a crown. Yet, stirring in the helix stillness of shadow and harangue; and as if brought down from the very heavens like hungry ravens across battlefields, she was not a stranger to such things. Abysmal maws gaping wide, an unforeseen cavity that sprawled before the feet of marching warriors emerging from behind the ebbing mass.

Within the abysmally twisted pathways of the depths of her mind, memories of old came flooding back in silhouette reflecting the tumult of snapping banners in the tempests. At the forefront, Atra'Lamia, The Western Imperatrix of Eden and Ayenee, sat regally poised upon juggernaut, clad in vestments of battle. An unadorned archaic glory to behold, patent no doubt under stellar fortifications and weapons that ripped worlds to cosmic ash- still, a presence to be admired. The black demonic crafted warhorses' front leg ploughed impatiently at the earth beneath, parched and stained with the hues of rust. Snorting at the air creating miasmic fogs like wandering spectres.

Chin ascended to the air, permitting the talons of wind to rake back the thigh length cascades of iridescent ebony exposing the achromatic contours of picturesque face, as if the stars themselves had chiselled her beauty from the sacrificed radiance of ancient suns. Leathers of attire constricting, moaning like a lover in conquest at the turn of svelte thigh and slender waist; knees digging in deeper against the carved pelt of her mounts saddle while feeling the warmth of the beast's inner fire permeating through the thick covering of armour and adornment. Gloved hands tightening around the studded leather of reigns, pulling them back only to compel the mounts head to rise as a copious tendril of anxious exhalation burst into the oncoming coolness of the descending gloaming.

Lashing wreathes of onyx danced in whip-song round the frame of her pale visage, thriving over her diminutive shoulders like gorgon-vipers striking out to assail the elements in rebelliousness-- flaying over those feminine curves like thousands of tongue to caress the pelage of tourniquet. From behind then, a menacing pungent smoke billowing from censors swung by chains from the 'Tainted Ones' cloaked heavily in the tattered garbs of their "Dark Order". Resolute chanting of dark conjuration, battle exsufflation, shadow-hound howls intermingling with ominous war drums accompanied by the clamour of Chaos armour, hoof, and the thunderous quaking reverberations of heavy artillery.

Nocturne-storms seeking the horizons of landscapes that rose from the light only to asphyxiate it to the blackness, like pestilence swallowing the sun. A staggering formidable line formed within the scintillation of smoke and miasma. Their banners displaying the burnished image of a Black Phoenix against blood red flames, snapped and crackled in the harsh arctic plague-winds which howled, gnashing around the blackened swarm of conjured fiends. Horrors not even the sickest of imaginations could ever create in frenzied bloody hand-painted portraits scribbled upon stone asylum walls.

Haunted figures crafted by the vilest and most twisted of minds ever to have stained the lands with their vicious insanities. Not even hell itself had creatures to the likes of these, hankering for the thick, crimson ichors of all that fell within their path or that was crushed beneath synchronized infantry bootfall. Towering above the hording legions, ascending behind her, war-goliaths snuffed the lands with behemothic shadows; casting all within the eclipse of their bulk and majesty. Machines designed for siege and destruction. Trebuchet and assault ballista alike, lustrous in the skeletal design of contorted bone. Crafted by diabolical sorceries and umbrossis (shadow bone) -- Osteomancy-- bone-crafting fused with sciomancy (a form of crystallized psychic energy aka psycho-plastic/bio-construct).

Frontline formed that stretched the entirety of the horizon. Blades of hate gleaming with macabre silver smiles in the puce liminal hour- where even the skies ruptured to the slaughter, reflecting every single droplet of blood as it trickled along razor-edged teeth. Maddened from the mayhem laced in broken bodies and streams of inflamed vermillion, only one of a sadistic, perverse mind could marvel in such scenes of destruction and death. And only one of like-mind to her could ever comprehend the magnitude of intention behind the massacre.

The quietening before war was always the most disturbing sound of stillness, how it eventually decreased into nothing but that intimidating ‘dead’ readiness. Calm before the storm. From beast, hound to man all glared across the field below positioned in their regiment formations with their commanders lording over them from their mounts in regalia of their dark ilk and unholy devotions… ornate with blood-encrusted heirlooms of the lines of Edenic and Western Ayenee nobility. All armour bearing the numerous pitted scars of countless battles, festooned with the grim trophies of victory taken from the defeated.

Ekuxus Andel and Mephi'sax Arcius Cinderbane, the brothers of Chaos, clad in armours of insipid gold and blackened-hewed iron. The axe-yielding collector's of skulls. The Lords of Cinders and Darkness. Appellations truly deserving of Ayenee's Chaos Lords, and Imperial son's to the 'Throne of Ash' took their positions to either side of Atra'Lamia. Their father's once great allies in the long forgotten civil wars between blood and bond. Helms depicting the beastly facades of the Chimera (the Griffin-head with Baphomet-style horns), burning eyes of crimson scourging the stage with heinous contempt.

To their flanks came the sightless masters of the Cinderhounds, draped in sable-cerements completely concealed and hidden beneath the obscurity of hood. Gauntlet fists grasping the metallic collars (ensorcelled torque highly resistant to magic or psychic influences) of their umbral monstrous canines. Sinuous obsidian oily pelts phosphorescent with a sickly verdant aura comparable to balefire. Maws dripping with saliva as they peeled back to reveal the glistening of manifold fangs eager for the carnage. Lambent orbs perforating the calignosity with an anemic-chlorosis iridescence.

It was the cold breath of death that plumed its awakening across the lands; the Gates of the Fallen releasing in shrill clanks as the chains of the underworld broke from their irons. Who dared roused the Chrysostomosian chieftains from their beloved golden drinking halls? Mysterious winds shifted, sweeping up the arcane chants of the battle mages swinging censers of pungent resins- causing thick grey discolouration within the gathering fogs, congealing mists and smoke to an almost impenetrable barrier.

Disorientation and confusion settling amongst the warriors trapped within the lowlands. High death magick and necromancy wove their supremacy and virulent sway within the cinereal vapours. Venomous shades coiling to seek their intended targets of prolific and influential commanders as more banners broke the colours of Ayenee and Rhydin. Emblems and crests that even Atra recognized in all the years of battle and siege within these lands. Instantly right gloved hand rose to a fist and the signal was given as the gyrating skies darkened with arrows smothering the last remnants of light that had managed to struggle through the onyx- gloom.

"There is no glory, only an eternity of slaughter and the mirth of thirsting conquerors. Cast down the heroes of Ayenee! Destroy the icons of hope! Slay the dogs! Slay the infidel! Show these fools that they follow nothing more than forgotten days. Show no mercy, only wrath!" War-cry, weapon against shield arose in deafening roar breaking the silence, and the wave finally broke against the shore. Where Lord, beast and hound lay siege to the multitudes. There was something wondrous and magnificent about melee, impressively fascinating beneath the clash of shield against shield, and weapon against weapon, the mighty din of feet trampling terrain as bodies fall to failure of their measures.

Into the hellish roar her steed plundered, hooves assaulting the earth in heavy thuds, raping the soil of all its nutrients as it extracted all life-force and energy at its gait. Black hocks pounding only to rise and leap over the falling barricades which surrounded the outside of the village, burning to silvery ash then whisked away by the teeth of grinning winds. Right hand unsheathing the decorated, elaborate sword from her side, artistically sweeping it from side to side as Atra carved her path through the multitudes of faltering men that dared and tempered to topple the Titaness herself.

··Is ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴊᴜsᴛɪᴄᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪs﹐ ᴛᴏ ʙᴀʟᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ·s ɪɴᴇϙᴜɪᴛʏ﹐ ᴏʀ ʙᴇɴᴇғɪᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴜᴛᴡᴇɪɢʜ ɪᴛs ʟᴏss﹖ I ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʀᴇᴛʀɪᴇᴠᴇᴅ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋɴᴇss ᴛʜᴇ ʏᴇᴀʀs ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ʟᴏsᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ﹐ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ ʜᴇʟᴅ ɴᴏᴡ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴏғ ᴍʏ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍs﹐ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍʏ ᴘᴀᴛʜ ɪs ғɪɴᴀʟʟʏ... ᴄʟᴇᴀʀ.··

They had gone too far these Northron invaders, with their imperial Chimera emblem which they dared display in the manner of acclaimed superiority. Pompously laying claim Ayenee soil as their own. Marching across kingdoms and villages, expanding their empire all for the greater glory. Succession in the name of a vain and debauched emperor, reclining upon his ivory throne in the heart of sweltering Rhydin, The Crimson Emperor not even accompanying his loyal men into battle.


As if drawn to one single flame, and the Sword of Ayen sung his choirs without hindrance.

Narrowing sights while gazing over the city Vanishing from the foothills only to appear in the midst of the calamity rising within the city, guided by the creeping shadows and informative whispers of nameless fiends greeting every life with so little regard—wraith-like claws tearing them asunder like ravenous beasts (the hounds of hell), unleashed to feed, their flanks anointed in blood. The black tide of shadows following that elegantly paced gait, nor were those traitors who threw themselves at her feet begging "Spare us your wrath, great one, we beg thee!" not even those were spared or shown leniency.

Halting outside the establishment, 'The Serpent's Tail' , gradually turning as head cocked to the side permitting the ravenesque thigh length strands to partially conceal beauteous features beneath midnight mantle. "Now that is just too quaint, even for one such as you." Articulated in the tongue of the ancients for she never lowered herself to the dialogues of mankind. With a single gesture of hand its doors flung open wide, and the serpentine tendrils and phantomorphic masses entered before her. Dark glimmers dancing in the vehement reflections in her eyes, appearing blacker in the depths of the tavern along with the sporadic flickering of torches and firelight; adding subterranean impressions to those voidic portals. Indeed life was temporary for humans, mortality but brevity of breath and the husks that housed their souls fragile in the presence of those like her and of nature. But still, they were somewhat, beautiful in their fragility.

There was nothing overly intimidating or fearful in her approach, slender hips indulged in pendulum sway, shoulders back to bring her height to more impressive statures, chin lifted high in the usual typical denigrating fashion. Sliding into the seat beside were he sat, there was no means for introductions afterall he was the only reason as to why she was there during the heat of war campaigns... albeit... at the indiscretion of an uneducated guess on everyone else's behalf. But who would dare to question? Head lowering so the strands of black flowed over her eyes and the nefarious glimmers peered outwardly from behind that darkness with a primal gaze enough to chill winter itself. Not saying a word, scarlet apertures twisting into a necrotic macabre smirk, while that burning stare penetrated through towards his very core. Whatever she lacked on the social scheme of things, she made up for in sadistic licentiousness. Crossing left leg over the right, fabric constricting, highlighting the contours of those long, agile limbs and seductive curves— purring for the kill, prowess singing through from the disquiet.

A slight smirk spoiled the smile that had dawned over perfected symmetrical horizons. Timbre and stature darkening in response to the subject, and the inkling of hints behind it suggesting boldly in which direction this interlude was venturing. It was hinted boldly by the inflection of husky yet feminine tones, and an accent that grated along the honeycomb to demonstrate indeed the poison within the cadence. "You wish to speak with me, Overlord?" ....


King of King's
Oh and at the sway of her hips the world did move. Reality falling to pieces before the exquisite allure that stood before him and yet Dusa only let the smallest of smiles grace his lips. Eyes smoldering with deep methodical intent as he took in her every move. Every gesture and breath analyzed for what it truly was. Beneath that beauty, and even the pomp of her own circumstance was the most beautiful and deadly serpent his mind had ever tangled with. Just to behold her was exhilaration to his soul, a wind to fan the flames of his own desire and conquest.

"You wish to speak with me, Overlord?" ....

Her words fell forth from captivating lips to dance upon the inner alcoves of his psyche. Overlord his title by birth and right. That which he had once brought fire to defend and yet from her lips was it endearment or taunt? Unspoken challenges trickling down into his core as if without even trying she did dare him to stand up to his mantel, to bring forth the might of the Overlord of Ayenee with all its glory and fear.

Crimson orbs did dance upon the form of his greatest seduction and for just perhaps a moment the overlord did falter breath hanging upon the air. Unspoken desires dancing behind those sinister eyes. Memories shared only between two curling in the shadows of the iris bringing to mind scents and feelings that could only be replicated by her touch. His heart longed to beat once again and temptation ruled but that was just a moment in the chaos was their eternal interaction.

Her probes were answered by perhaps unexpected action as fingers dared to grace her flesh as no other would fathom. Walking ever so slightly up the contour of her neck to trace the perfection of her jaw line. A singular heart beat erupting from the chasm of his chest as a heart of stone did give a shudder. That one beat reverberating through well placed fingers to tremor through her own flesh. Then as if to create blasphemy upon his mind his fingers did fall restoring the placid gaze of a god upon the mortal realm.

The moment would be shattered as the bar keep gave a staggering scream at her entrance and proclamation .. " You two... are.. " The poor fool never got the words from his simpleton tongue as serpha did uncoil lashing outward burying her razor sharp threads deep within the poor fools throat. Fire coursed through his veins burning him to ash where he stood as she returned coiling lazily about his waist.

His eyes never left her own. " Oh speak? No I wish to bend you in ways to which you are not accustomed. Light fire to your flesh to bind your very soul until the only name upon your lips is my own.. to snare your very breath and yet perhaps speaking will do .. for the moment. "

He paused as if measuring the weight of his words. " My sword suites you well.. I see he said gesturing at the blade which had once to him signified the weight of his title and rule of this kingdom. There was a flicker of amusement buried beneath those eyes as they traced the curve of the blade it almost sang to him longed for his hand and yet it was to be denied. " I need it no longer for I have a better blade to keep at my side. " He punctuated those words with a spiraling gaze that started at her feet and devoured her form all the way to her eyes before turning back to his wine to sip softly of its contents. A annoyed look taking his face as he beheld the small amount of dust accumulated upon the bar. Human's were a disgusting lot he swore.. running around in the remnants of their own refuse .. what nonsense.

" It is time for me to go home.. too long the walls of my castle have been without their proper ruler... too long a throne has sat without its right heir and it is time to right that wrong. " He did not even have to ask if she understood the implications of his statement for she knew well the home to which he spoke. " It's time for us to go home to those halls which once brought us together and it is you who will clear my path and open the gates. "

He let his order sink in wanting it to bury deep in her mind for that was her task now all other pathetic skirmishes aside. Already his forces had begun to amass deep in the seven layers. The power of hellfire drawing forth from the darkness all whom did follow his name and soon they would be reborn to this world. The heathens of evil cast aside by the light to march at his back. He could have marched on the castle at his own discretion taking back what was rightfully his but that was not part of his destiny that task belonged to her.

The smile upon the lips of the devil himself did portray only a slight bit of irony as he sought to return unto her the usage of title and weight. " I trust you will not fail me my sword and queen?" A question within a question the last word to tumble from his lips almost a challenge in and of itself a question to which the answer was not important for it was already known and yet still bore exploring for the simple rapture the delving into its implications did bring. For one day that answer would escalate into something of far more serious proportion and he was never going to let her forget that.. His keenest blade was that which he desired to keep at his side for all eternity. He sipped at his wine tilting his head staring deeply into its contents. The time of fate was at hand .. and he would suffer no more games for from blood he had come baptized to the throne and his desires would no longer be denied.

The Raven of Dispersion

Atra'Lamia Darkbane
Chin ascending to study, while strands of ebony swept to conceal her right eye, still starless they glimmered at Dusa Darkfire, the Overlord, the Prince of Ayenee seemingly had not changed throughout the years, and Atra was somewhat curious as to why he would seek her audience, again, since the last time didn't serve him well. Florid garnet embouchements formed into a kittenish simper, where the points of arches curved upwards to accentuate the dimples indenting within contoured cheeks at the sound of epithet spoken. In prompt response to his desires.

"Is that so, Overlord?"

Retorting with an underlined manner of jest, and with a voice as fresh as the winter breeze, pluming across august fields of deadly nightshade and opiates, "I recall once before, but within a different wilderness, such heated things and murderous heart strings. I had always wondered what it would be like to lynch you with those very same things... just to see that "passion" once again, albeit flesh and fate... of course." Emphasis placed on 'passion' and 'flesh' with a coquettish lingering dark ambience, ever so slightly leaning into the trajectory of his touch, only to just as abruptly pull away. A dark smirk crossing over statuesque facade.

Shifting on the hard wooden surface of the chair, evident the place certainly didn't spare a cent in the lavishness of the establishment and chose to go for the poor-rustic dark aged discomfort. That way people drunk more, therefore complained less about their sore asses caused by festering splinters from the chairs. At least had they not have been consumed by the tongues of hellfire and infernal ash.

"Every sword, suits me well... " Chuckling softly at the implications and meanings since their last encounter when his verbiage was less noble. However the sword Dusa referred to rested parallel to the length of her thigh, juxtaposed to her person as amorous as a submissive would cling desirously to their Dominatrix’s leg. Tempered steel cold against the heat emanating from the destructive overtures beneath the woman, uniting with the gathering elements of shadow swirling and entwining around limbs of sleek onyx (like liquid darkness clutching lucratively Atra's svelte limbs). Words hauntingly disembodied that it even caused the fire to spit and hiss, as if some demonic presence sat looking back through the thaumaturge veils that ever so thinly separated worlds. "Everything of your's suits me well."

Catching the path of Dusa's gaze with that of her own. She could only imagine what debauchery was running rampart through his mind—it rather amused her, after all, what was a little debauchery amongst, fiends and ex-lovers? Fingernails tapping on the argentate of Ayen swords' hilt, the sound echoing through the oozing blackness of the tavern, like ink smothering what could have been a beautiful page. With features shifting to deadpan, a more serious quality etching into the rapturous ambiance of Atra's voice, "So, you ask of me to make way of your ascension? What, is the little lady too much for you handle?"

Diabolical refulgence beamed with a swarming malignancy. Monochromatic exquisiteness only emphasized by symmetrical arches of her lips blossoming into a nefarious smile. No other reference of 'little lady' was made-- but she was sure he would catch on. "My home is far from these shores, Dusa." Not caring enough to indulge him in the future of further rants of omnipotence and the God Delusion (supremacy) of yet another madman so full of himself it was amazing he was not accompanied by servants carrying mirrors. Tapping keen claws over the pommel of sword, composure unmoved, but her smile widened at such elucidations, leaning forwards in order to whisper towards Dusa's person, "My sword has never failed... but how do I know if you are worthy of its hand?"

The mocking murmur spat from the maelstrom of crackling sparks and abysmal conflagrations of the mind. To her, every creature was in fact a killer, just some were more efficient and detailed with the way they indulged in their desires, the more primitive they were, the closer to nature they were considered to be. It is never hard to see someone thinking deeply in their own personal abyss, locked away into the darkness of their insanity. Atra had become a connoisseur at reading even the most well-guarded and prolific minds. Perceiving far more within and beyond the facade of outside appearances, despite the game of word play and tempering the nerves.

Atra gave a slight sigh. A melodious timbre weaved within plumes of frost.

Bowing her head, a sight not many of this time were humbled enough to witness, "We once vowed, that if this world were to fall, it would be protected by the raptures of our gauntlets. Yet, here we are upon the back of a world already broken long before our gauntlets were blessed with its enemies ruin. Such are the deceptions of false promises... and what will your rule bring, Overlord... Dusa, Prince of Darkfire!?" Eyes gleaming reminiscent of the starless night in the long blackness of time, where legends were the last glimpse of the past... in a world, rife and ripe with Darkness.
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King of King's
Her words like silk to his ears and yet as sharp as the edge of the very blade she did carry at her side. The endless dance of provocation that was their interaction held the overlord ever enthralled and yet there was something to this moment that had not been for so long. A ever sharpening edge at his feet that he had grown oh so tired of walking.

The mind of the true overlord of these lands was not to be twisted, not to be turned in the fingers of even she who held his heart. He was the image of conquest and would not be denied. How many times had he broken himself upon the rocky shores of her demeanor? How many times had the heart that did not beat shuddered at her touch? Even still she sought to provoke him. She desired to drive from his being the demon he had long let rest for the desire to give unto his people a world worth living free of the atrocity his father had left behind.

For at her word a flame did ignite and the demon would become the destroyer of men. The words of a prophet long ago spoken into his ears as the old fool died bleeding out upon the floor. They came surging back to the front of his mind as he stared into the deep entrapping pools that were her eyes. Oh his own gave nothing for them to devour for she had over stepped and ignited the fire that would consume the land.

"Worthy of your sword? Prince?" Fragmented bursts of pure rage that did defile the face of godly perfection He did slipped forth from his earthly bounds but for a moment spinning in the air to land with the grace of a deadly predator upon his heels. Menace had come to those crimson orbs, a darkness best kept under lock and key had begun to spill its way back into his soul. The lord of hellfire himself had was about to return to this land in most crushing fashion.

Inertial acceleration once a trick he had played with in his youth a signature even. Deemed far too destructive by the new calmer visage he had undertaken. Now it came to his hand as if it were but a toy. A single fragmented skull cap kicked into the air and punched outward. His own energy for a moment following its course the path of every molecule in this wretched city lain out upon an almost electromagnetic grid before his eyes. His own energy did match that of the object he had hurdled accelerating its rotational transitions causing its force to ripple outward as it did move bursting through the wall, gaining momentum and radius as it moved toward the outer walls of the city cutting a trench of pure destruction that dug into the earth itself taking with it homes and countless innocent lives before burning itself out on the outskirts of the kingdom.

The cries of the wounded and dead. The smoldering destruction did sing to his soul causing his eyes but to shine brighter as he looked into her own. Heat burning ever hotter from his form by the moment. " You dare question me? How tell me how am I to ever burn as my brightest flame? How do I kindle the spark of the conqueror in my soul when it is you and you alone that makes my fire burn as it never has before? TELL ME THE ANSWER ATRA'LAMIA OR WILL YOU SIMPLY TAUNT ME??!

Dusa moved now with lithe speed simply to allow his hand but to grace her flesh. Heat unfathomable heat beginning to radiate from his guise even at but that simple touch and as his heart did beat the flames would find their true form once again. Fire from the very trenches of hell drawn upward to its master from the depths of what had once been his mothers kingdom. The blood of a lord of hellfire burning in his veins turning them black upon alabaster flesh. Fire danced forth from the land cracking it as if by the hand of a god itself, spewing high into the air as the very stones of the buildings around them began to melt. Perhaps it seemed as if the overlord had truly snapped intent upon showing her just how much this pathetic drabble of a city truly meant to him without her at his side. Flames twisted and writhed out of control as if permitted his hand would take full hold of her arm. His heart pounding out of control as an almost purple hue did take to the fire in his eyes and a part of the overlord long hidden came full fledge to the surface. The blood of an abyssal lord mixed with the essence of hell to form something to embody the truest terror.

Serpa and Sett the his twin fangs they danced now growing and growing as they fed upon this new transformation. Hungrily they began drawing their strength from the abyss itself lashing out to become as a tangled web that encapsulated the city. Awaiting his glance they descended upon the flame splitting it in twain using it as a catalyst as they swept across the city devouring all in their wake. Soul after soul screamed into the nothingness as the serpents did devour their essence forever more feeding them to their master.

The destruction seemed to not even register to his eyes as he looked into her own. " Is this what you want, to pluck at my strings until glorious reaction is received? I am no game woman and I come with truth and ultimatum. " You want the truth .. to know how conquest has no taste for me .. .? You want to hear from my lips that since the moment our fates did entwine .. no conquest has been enough as if my thirst cannot be sated... That I will have you at my side or I will have nothing of this life??!! You have heard it now make well your decision my blackened love ... "

Words punctuated as he did release her his heart silenced but his rage not to be trifled with and of all things he did the one thing he had never done. He walked away from her, there would be no more games she was either his or she was not. No sword, no stupid games. " You are either mine and mine alone or you are not. Not my sword, not my queen..mine .. . " He said as he walked now through the ruins of the city that wicked grin consuming his face. " FIND THAT PUTRID PIECE OF EXCREMENT THAT CALL'S HIMSELF MY FATHER TELL HIM THIS IS MY KINDGOM NOW. " Guards did scatter in his wake as one by one he did devour the souls of the common people bending them to his will.

There would be only one end to this .. for she could stop him and she alone. Be it with her blade or with her soul that was the only question that remained to be answered. Dusa he could take no more of the endless assault upon his heart.. No more of this wretched feeling of emptiness that did accompany the lack of her presence at his side.. today was the day of ending things.. either this pain or the burden of this pathetic kingdom upon the world.
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