Of all of the rings of Hell mentioned in Dantes Inferno he touched least on the ninth. For the lands of the ninth ring are reserved for those who have betrayed their own kind. It is home to the betrayers of the mortal coil and the defilers of promises kept. It was here where the daemon Madrielle lived and tended to her garden of frozen souls.
Perched atop a pile of ice laced skulls she watched over those who resided in the Caina, the 5th round of the ninth ring. Their heads emerged from their necks in the sheer ice so that they could weep for their treachery. Their tears would eventually freeze and flood drawing them deeper into the ice, until perhaps, it was their turn to travel deeper towards the center ring, of this dark and forsaken place to enter a new form of suffering and despair.
She was in her glory here, reminding the dark souls of their crimes. She danced to the wailing of their pain. Their cries filled her with what she could only imagine as being happiness. Their sorrows and tears piling to create delicate structures, in the dreaded sea of darkened ice, which glistened like some horrid crystalline garden.
~~~~~~~~~
She heard the taunting from the depths of this shadowy place. The shallow sound of chanting and the methodic hum of monotone syllables set to the pentameter of spell-craft. She looked to the traitors who knew something she perhaps had ignored or was simply not privy too. Two men, whos faces had nearly merged with the frozen sea she stood on twisted a tormented smile. Their eyes frozen shut.
Oh dark maiden our brothers call. The Thorns wish the maiden of the frosts. The mans voice became sullen and dreary.
The man beside him, who was shoulder deep in the tundra smirked slightly.
Ah Madrielle the Ice Reaver. Cleaver of ther frozen souls She paused, cold misty breath escaping his blue tinted lips. They beckon you now?
Letting loose a howl of anger, filled with the force of a blizzard and the hatred of the cold North wind, Madrielle looked to the upper rings above her. With a thought and a wave of her hand she brought into her being a blade made of clear frozen ice. It shone in the strange eerie light emanating from the realms above.
~~~~~~~~
Lucretia Giavarro had been captured for days by the hooded men. No atrocities had befallen her as of yet, however her fears welled up inside her as she sat motionless in the cells confining walls. Rats scurried about her and the smell of moss and earth filled her nostrils. She knew she was underground, as the crude shackles that bound her were mounted into the gritty surface of rock. She had little idea why she had been taken here, and little understanding of these strange men.
It was only in the following hours that she would become aware of their nefarious intent. She was to be their sacrifice to some dark entity. Some beast from the bowels of the abyss. The hooded men came to her, and with a slight chant the manacles were released and she hovered in strange glowing well of force. They carried her to a ceremony chamber and began their ritual.
The haze of green smoke in which Lucretia floated had no smell, no taste, but felt electric on her skin. It burned slightly but there was no pain. The chanting became louder, and as its vocal range was stretched to echo through the dark room, she lost herself. Lost herself in the hypnotic wailing of those strange and evil men.
~~~~~~~~
Madrielle heard the chanting getting louder. It echoed through her ears. She unfurled her wings, and raised her blade to meet the source of this annoyance. Her horns shone, shock white against the ice sea, and her talons stretched before her in attempt to shield her eyes from the light, but it was all in vain. For she now knew the origin of the voices, and it was to late for her.
Upon returning to consciousness, Madrielle looked stunned at her hands. The cultists looked towards her in awe. For the spell had not done as it should, for when she awoke, a horrid scream unlike anything they had heard, comparable to a wounded animal and a dying mans last scream emitted from her frail frame. Lucretia looked down at the men, who backed away in horror. Her body twisted in the green mist. Horns erupted from the woman head and clavicle. Twisted claw like hands and feet, laced with frost took the place of normal human appendages. Eyes, silver-gray, like solid ice stared at the men.
The Sacrifice failed!
She arched her back slightly as she returned to the solid ground. The human body she was in twisted, but she could still feel its mortality wrapped around her. She hissed at the men who stood before her. She waved her hand and a chill was felt by the hooded men as she summoned her blade of ice. However nothing happened. She was still weak and without her full powers.
Fools, I shall decimate you all for this treachery. Trapping me in this decrepit and rottng husk
The men stepped back as the feral woman stood before them menacingly. Placing her hand on her temple she lashed out with the force of her will alone. The members of the Circle of Thorns fell one by one. Drawing on the frosts and sleet she hurled blasts of sheer cold at her enemies freezing them to their core. However the cost was high, and the frail woman she resided in buckled under the strain. All was black now. All was quiet.
~~~~~~~~
The alarms went off like a banshee wail. It deafened her and more so angered her. The commotion was confusing and the men and women trapped in cages and behind bars were escaping. Mustering up her strength she managed to stand. A man stood before her as though he had information to share with her.
What you lookn at lady? The man replied.
She remained silent
Ya look banged up, like my friend. Go to the nurses station and get some medical equipment..
She looked unmoved and slightly annoyed.
Who are ya anyways?
With a cold glare she looked up at him, meeting his eyes with her steely gaze. It was enough to make him uncomfortable as he began to shift his weight from side to side. Each moment she watched him as a cat hunts her prey. Paying detailed attention to each movement he made.
I am The Ice Reaver
~~~I was going to put this on the Virtue-Verse. Feedback is ok.
Of all of the rings of Hell mentioned in Dantes Inferno he touched least on the ninth. For the lands of the ninth ring are reserved for those who have betrayed their own kind. It is home to the betrayers of the mortal coil and the defilers of promises kept. It was here where the daemon Madrielle lived and tended to her garden of frozen souls.
Perched atop a pile of ice laced skulls she watched over those who resided in the Caina, the 5th round of the ninth ring. Their heads emerged from their necks in the sheer ice so that they could weep for their treachery. Their tears would eventually freeze and flood drawing them deeper into the ice, until perhaps, it was their turn to travel deeper towards the center ring, of this dark and forsaken place to enter a new form of suffering and despair.
She was in her glory here, reminding the dark souls of their crimes. She danced to the wailing of their pain. Their cries filled her with what she could only imagine as being happiness. Their sorrows and tears piling to create delicate structures, in the dreaded sea of darkened ice, which glistened like some horrid crystalline garden.
~~~~~~~~~
She heard the taunting from the depths of this shadowy place. The shallow sound of chanting and the methodic hum of monotone syllables set to the pentameter of spell-craft. She looked to the traitors who knew something she perhaps had ignored or was simply not privy too. Two men, whos faces had nearly merged with the frozen sea she stood on twisted a tormented smile. Their eyes frozen shut.
Oh dark maiden our brothers call. The Thorns wish the maiden of the frosts. The mans voice became sullen and dreary.
The man beside him, who was shoulder deep in the tundra smirked slightly.
Ah Madrielle the Ice Reaver. Cleaver of ther frozen souls She paused, cold misty breath escaping his blue tinted lips. They beckon you now?
Letting loose a howl of anger, filled with the force of a blizzard and the hatred of the cold North wind, Madrielle looked to the upper rings above her. With a thought and a wave of her hand she brought into her being a blade made of clear frozen ice. It shone in the strange eerie light emanating from the realms above.
~~~~~~~~
Lucretia Giavarro had been captured for days by the hooded men. No atrocities had befallen her as of yet, however her fears welled up inside her as she sat motionless in the cells confining walls. Rats scurried about her and the smell of moss and earth filled her nostrils. She knew she was underground, as the crude shackles that bound her were mounted into the gritty surface of rock. She had little idea why she had been taken here, and little understanding of these strange men.
It was only in the following hours that she would become aware of their nefarious intent. She was to be their sacrifice to some dark entity. Some beast from the bowels of the abyss. The hooded men came to her, and with a slight chant the manacles were released and she hovered in strange glowing well of force. They carried her to a ceremony chamber and began their ritual.
The haze of green smoke in which Lucretia floated had no smell, no taste, but felt electric on her skin. It burned slightly but there was no pain. The chanting became louder, and as its vocal range was stretched to echo through the dark room, she lost herself. Lost herself in the hypnotic wailing of those strange and evil men.
~~~~~~~~
Madrielle heard the chanting getting louder. It echoed through her ears. She unfurled her wings, and raised her blade to meet the source of this annoyance. Her horns shone, shock white against the ice sea, and her talons stretched before her in attempt to shield her eyes from the light, but it was all in vain. For she now knew the origin of the voices, and it was to late for her.
Upon returning to consciousness, Madrielle looked stunned at her hands. The cultists looked towards her in awe. For the spell had not done as it should, for when she awoke, a horrid scream unlike anything they had heard, comparable to a wounded animal and a dying mans last scream emitted from her frail frame. Lucretia looked down at the men, who backed away in horror. Her body twisted in the green mist. Horns erupted from the woman head and clavicle. Twisted claw like hands and feet, laced with frost took the place of normal human appendages. Eyes, silver-gray, like solid ice stared at the men.
The Sacrifice failed!
She arched her back slightly as she returned to the solid ground. The human body she was in twisted, but she could still feel its mortality wrapped around her. She hissed at the men who stood before her. She waved her hand and a chill was felt by the hooded men as she summoned her blade of ice. However nothing happened. She was still weak and without her full powers.
Fools, I shall decimate you all for this treachery. Trapping me in this decrepit and rottng husk
The men stepped back as the feral woman stood before them menacingly. Placing her hand on her temple she lashed out with the force of her will alone. The members of the Circle of Thorns fell one by one. Drawing on the frosts and sleet she hurled blasts of sheer cold at her enemies freezing them to their core. However the cost was high, and the frail woman she resided in buckled under the strain. All was black now. All was quiet.
~~~~~~~~
The alarms went off like a banshee wail. It deafened her and more so angered her. The commotion was confusing and the men and women trapped in cages and behind bars were escaping. Mustering up her strength she managed to stand. A man stood before her as though he had information to share with her.
What you lookn at lady? The man replied.
She remained silent
Ya look banged up, like my friend. Go to the nurses station and get some medical equipment..
She looked unmoved and slightly annoyed.
Who are ya anyways?
With a cold glare she looked up at him, meeting his eyes with her steely gaze. It was enough to make him uncomfortable as he began to shift his weight from side to side. Each moment she watched him as a cat hunts her prey. Paying detailed attention to each movement he made.
I am The Ice Reaver
~~~I was going to put this on the Virtue-Verse. Feedback is ok.