Bardiel
Bourgeois
Outlands Wanderer
Posts: 147
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Post by Bardiel on Nov 13, 2010 20:25:51 GMT -6
Just thought I'd post some old dialogue I had for Bardiel but haven't had the chance to use. Just to give you some insight into his madness ;D
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“I’m sorry you know. I don’t mind you…what? No you…your great. Hush, you don’t have to worry. You can’t be hurt anymore, ever again…what? That’s no problem, that’s what friends do. You’re my friend yes…? Yes. You’re not like the others; you won’t run away…? No, you’ll stay with me. When it’s dark you’ll hug me and tell me “everything’s going to be alright” that the monsters can’t hurt me anymore, that they aren’t real. Ha! Finally, what’s that…? So I can be held? Thankyou!”
“Why wont you hug me back? Even after telling me you would care? What I did I did for you. Why wont you hug me...? Why wont you speak to me…? Speak! Why wont you talk to me? Why…don’t…you…answer…me!”
“Sorry de'Lucifer it's nothing personal, just revenge,”
“Umm, I’m scared,”
“Look. It is breaking, falling down. Can’t you feel it, slowly eating away at you? The anti-creation, the nothingness, the black, lightless void. Can’t you see it? You look into that absence and it swallows your minds eye. The void, in its hollowness, reflects you as twisted and deformed. It claws and sucks at what you are, trying to fill itself, and draws your soul to the surface. Like a warped mirror you see yourself in that abyss because there’s nothing to see except yourself, cold, stretched and crushed. Like a print, a mark, a stain echoed across infinity. It cannot create. It is raw immaterial material. It is primordial chaos, the will to decay and destroy and empty and end. Encompassing and inevitable and immortal. The darkness is turbulent, shifting and unchecked now. It wants purpose, it is an unbalancing element that wants balance, and it needs control. But who cares? I sure don’t, not anymore. The Devourer will devour and I will burn- listen to the dark burning- flare, and be devoured by the quickening end.”
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Bardiel
Bourgeois
Outlands Wanderer
Posts: 147
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Post by Bardiel on Apr 9, 2011 5:25:19 GMT -6
There’s no peace in the outlands. Calm and tranquillity starve in its barren deserts, mercy is hunted down and torn apart by its famishing jungles, leisure stumbles and lays unmoving as sheets of ice leach the warmth from its marrow.
It is a landscape crafted from the decaying carcasses of immoral man. And time has built a strong foundation for this bleak world. It is within this black country, the untamed hell, which Bardiel huddles with back against the stone of a cave carved by bloodless hands. There is no peace within the cave, for the psychotic raging’s of the rabid and unspeakable creatures without echo down its throat. There is no peace within the checked board, for the scattered pieces atop are guided toward doom by charcoal hands. And, of course, there is no peace within Bardiel.
Pins of night hover over the feeble pupils that reflect a distant light floating on a sea of unshed tears. The razor thin slivers of pitch press tenderly on the delicate membrane. Quivering with excitement, the eye chases the fay light across itself, drawing inky scars in its wake. The pins bristle across an ocean of weeping tears and burrow deeper looking to kiss buried nerves. Bardiel urges them further.
The looming figure crouching with knees around ears could see a world of twilight kings. They were at war and their armies moved on night and day. Great pieces of onyx and alabaster thundered across space, the titans colliding and destroying each other. The fragments of their bodies rained down with earth shattering force, sending eruptions of rubble and creation into the air. When the dust had finally cleared only three game pieces remained. They were imposing and tall and utterly inhuman. Mighty crowns rested upon their heads.
In the dank grotto Bardiel picked up the bleached playing piece. Feeling warm, falling.
“GET AWAY!”
The piece breaks.
Bardiel stands and makes his way towards the light. He sees himself sleeping on the floor at the caves entrance. He smiles.
Bardiel want’s to know wants what he tastes like. He flies over and takes a bite.
“why is my throat bleeding?”
The angel reaches up to touch his face, but it falls on the floor. Golden lips all cracked, maggots eating his eyes.
“Ugly I hate it! You’re nothing tasty”
The angel cut cut cuts with the knife, pealing the face away from the floor and tears it up with his hands.
“What is this feeling?”
“I feel growing”
Bardiel smiles and rubs the bloody paste in his hands over his grinning lipless face.
“I can feel my brain coming out of my eyes!”
“I feel great!”
Metallic imps dance in a circle around Bardiel and the angel jumps up and down as they thread their pinprick claws through his flesh. They jibber and laugh, Bardiel laughs with them as they swing on ropes of his skin toward his hands.
“What are you doing here? you climb on my ribs. I won’t let you steal my fingernails!”
In his frantic dance, Bardiel trips and falls over, the leaden gremlins shriek in convoluted joy. And suddenly the fallen is left alone in the all-encompassing darkness.
“what was that noise?”
The ringing silence smothers the rustling of feathers as Bardiel stands.
“That must be what they were talking about!”
“Where did my veins go? Give me back my veins!”
The head of one of the gremlins appears. It creases its foil like features into a sinister grin. Bardiel screams at it.
The imp’s head is laughing hysterically, and Bardiel can see down its throat into the molten glow of its heart. He’s laughing along with it, the angel’s eyes rolling into the back of his head. He can see another imp laughing inside the larger ones mouth. He can’t breath. “wires are wrapping around my lungs”
Bardiel brings his hands up to his face. His fingers are wriggling like rubber worms.
“I need to untie my lungs”
He squirms his fingers down his throat. He is dragged into the maw to the gleeful demon.
And silence.
“I never thought I would end up like this”
The fallen angel floats on his back throughout the void. The anti creation. He tries to sleep but someone has cut off his eyelids. There is a binding light which parts a fraction of the void. A silhouette extends a hand, beckoning him to reach out and take it. But Bardiel’s body cannot move, it is being twisted and warped, like he were putty in some child’s hands. The hand retreats and with the beat of enormous wings the light sputters, then blinks out, leaving Bardiel alone shrieking.
“COME BACK!”
“come back”
There is no peace in the outlands. The bones of resentful dead will not let it enter. There is no peace within the cave, for there is a dangerous unnatural silence that echoes down its throat. There is no peace within the fractured checked board, for the single black playing piece atop awaits doom by charcoal hands. And, of course, there is no peace within Bardiel.
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Bardiel
Bourgeois
Outlands Wanderer
Posts: 147
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Post by Bardiel on Jun 8, 2011 6:47:35 GMT -6
Just experimenting with some wacky ideas. Hope you enjoy one and all ;D
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“Hell is opening up, I can see all the bodies, My cage is finally open, I’m set free, But still I cling to the bars that were trapping me These chains have been unlocked, I’m free, But my mind feels like my enemy How can I trust when the traitor lives inside my soul? And the one I love has been taken far away from me I won’t pretend to live for eternity, I’ll soon be waking when death opens up for me.”
A thing that was not Angel, the vague resemblance it had to them just made the creature more obscene. A travesty that’s very shape was a horrid mockery of virtue. It was bathed in sunlight. But it is a diseased light, blotchy and grey.
*
Bardiel leaned back into the whipping rain, the drumming fingers of water ringing off his worn armor. He looked up at the overcast sky which strangled the day into a grey half twilight, and stared unblinking as heavy droplets pounded against his face and eyes. As always the same lopsided smile was stitched on his face. But with the howling wind tearing at his feathers and hair, alien thoughts tossed about in his cluttered mind.
For as long as he could remember he’d been haunted by some studious and malicious presence. It followed him everywhere, watching from within the darkness where he could not see it. But he knew it was there, in the shadows cast by his brothers. Even in the High Heavens. He would catch the barest glimpse of these nightmares even upon waking. But not right now- right now he’d given Them the slip- but he knew he couldn’t relax, They would be looking for him.
He wasn’t sure what They were anymore… he wasn’t sure of anything anymore. Except that something sinister was going to happen, something so fundamentally perverse that the thought of it made him taste bile.
There was a noise from behind him. He was sure of it. There had to have been. Amidst the thundering rain and howling winds he had heard another noise.
Bardiel stiffened, his ears straining against the storm. A malign foreboding crawled its way into his heart, weighing him down. The wind and rain would hide Their approach- He was alone, there was no one to hear his screams. He had to get away, find someplace safe. He heard it again- the sliding of a knife from its sheath. They were so close now; he could feel Their noxious breath down his neck. Dread grabbed Bardiel by the throat, he couldn’t breath. He had to run, but couldn’t, what was wrong with him- why couldn’t he run away?
He wanted to run but he had no legs, They’d taken his legs so he couldn’t run away. He howled, his voice stolen by the wind. Anguish spread his wings and he vaulted into the sky pursued by advancing terror.
It chased him through the tumult, inching ever closer. Panic fuelled his flight, but soon the heavy chain cutting into his shoulders began to weigh him down. Terror chased him into the ground.
Through the wicked clawed hands of trees he barrelled, limbs flailing as he crashed into the ground- the force of the impact stealing his breath and sending his eyes skittling around in their sockets.
*
The heavily bandaged Fallen groaned, his cheek pressed against the damp soil. He tried to get up but the thing around his neck was too burdensome. He lay there prone, breathing heavily. Had he escaped Them again?
He needed to stand, had to be ready to escape. He crawled through the dirt and mud like a worm- his hands digging into the earth so he could drag his shackled body through filth and loam. He hadn’t pulled himself far when his probing fingers grasped the gnarled root of a tree. Making his way to the trunk from the ground, he clawed upward leaving behind scars and blood in the rough bark. Finally Bardiel pushed himself away from his makeshift crutch and stood shakily on his own two feet- delirious eyes darted this way and that, searching for the nightmare that chased him. But all he could find were the crooked and deformed bodies of trees like the one he had used to stand.
Above the black canopy the storm still raged, but not much rain could penetrate the contorted interlocking limbs of the trees. Water pattered against the muddy earth, devoid of both foliage and, bar Bardiel, life.
The Fallen held his head in his stained hands, trying to clear his mind of the snaking tendrils of darkness he knew didn’t exist. He had no idea how far he had flown or for how long- He had no idea where he was. What was it he had thought he saw before? He’d been missing his legs, but that wasn’t right, he was standing on them right now. Bardiel knew he was mad.
Did They even exist?
He looked helplessly down at his hands, how real were they? He couldn’t trust his own senses; they were his enemy as much as everything else. He hesitantly let out a shuddering breath, relaxing his mussels. At least for the moment he was alone- there are phantoms hiding behind the trees –it was a lie, a delusion- the watchers were invisible but couldn’t stop their eyes from brushing tingles up his spine- For now…coming closer… he… danger… WAS… going to die… SAFE.
Bardiel looked up in disbelief. The storm had begun to still, the only sounds which came from the forest was the water dripping from the trees and his own incredulous breathing. Unmolested by the constant presence of danger something resembling joy sparked within Bardiel. For the first time in a long time a real smile touched his lips.
He didn’t even notice the tempered blade against his throat until the cutting edge was drawn across it.
With unseeing eyes, Bardiel stared blankly ahead as a sinister voice murmured in his head. The voice was enraged, unrestrained and out of control. With it came the familiar feelings of betrayal and dread.
A chorus of dark voices drowned out the first with hungry singing before a new voice, this one strange and feminine, echoed within his unthinking mind.
He blinked, delirious fog clouding his vision as the knife was dragged across his neck. Sparks flew and the steel drew a thick line from ear to ear, but the blade did not break his skin. He shrieked, flailing his arms about to try and fend off the attacker but all his blows struck were air. He turned, looking for his would be killer but only found more trees. He heard the snapping of a twig and turned again, buffeting blindly about with his wings, but only the stoic trees stood before him. He began to scream in frustration, bringing his fists up and pushing at the sides of his head, hard.
Bardiel noticed something and stopped, the forest rang with a sudden stillness as he abruptly cut off his screams. Slowly he brought his hands down away from his temples, his mind reeling with the surreal drunkenness of an awakened dreamer.
Sure enough, there in one charred and blackened hand, Bardiel held the knife.
His shoulders began to shake. His chest heaved; he choked, and then began to laugh.
*
Two Devilcats, drawn by the sounds of mirth, peered down from where they hid amongst the branches of the corpse trees. The two had the look of sisters about them; both had true blood red hair, and both had the same mischievous glint in the eye that promised trouble. They looked at each other and passed unspoken words, giggling in the way that suggested a particularly lewd or cruel joke. Swiftly they began to descend through the branches of the trees, swinging from limb to limb with an eerie symmetry. If it weren’t for the lack of audience their decent would have been a show as each skilfully flew through the air catching twisted branches, and each other, before somersaulting to the ground either side of the manically laughing Fallen.
Bardiel gagged and nearly fell down in shock. Where had they come from? Were they real?
While he was recovering the Devilcats began to slowly orbit the hunched over Bardiel, their hips sauntering in a hypnotically rhythmic way. He tried to keep both of them in his vision at once but found it impossible, and only made himself dizzy after trying.
“L-leave me alone…” he croaked, in a voice that sounded as if it often lost pitch “… please?”
One of the feline demons laughed, her voice was sweet and steamy. Or perhaps predatory. She and her sister had the athletic and lithe bodies of born acrobats, which were both hugged tightly by their leotards that left just enough to the imagination. They began to circle closer, each moving with fluid ease. They were now within arms reach. Bardiel glanced nervously from one to the other, sweat beading on his forehead.
The sister with the shorter hair and bangs moaned longingly as she leaned forward purring.
They were probably going to eat him, and he probably wasn’t going to like it.
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Bardiel
Bourgeois
Outlands Wanderer
Posts: 147
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Post by Bardiel on Jun 13, 2011 5:48:00 GMT -6
“What in the name of Heaven are you doing?” Teal put her hands on her hips, never a good sign.
Tufts giggled delightedly “What’s he doing sis? What’s he doing?” the smaller Devilcat bubbled playfully around her sibling.
The deranged Fallen had managed to back himself up against a tree when the twins had stumbled upon him. They had been surprised to find anyone out this far in the Outlands and had immediately reached for their weapons. But the strange creature before them had proved unarmed and completely unresponsive, helpless even. The duo had approached the Fallen cautiously in order to investigate the despondent item of their curiosity.
Teal was painfully aware of heavy armour he wore but as Tufts had cheerfully pointed out “Even fool’s can dress as a knight, they do it all the time in our troupe.” The two, unable to resist, had called out to the strange man.
At first he’d simply ignored them but now, after a hesitant step or two the Fallen had begun begging for them to spare him. Teal had been sorely tempted to take his pathetic life along with possessions, but when mucus began to run along with tears she decided it simply wasn’t worth it. She was a Devilcat after all, not some merciless Angel.
“P-please don’t eat my bones,” the Fallen sniffed, intimidated into responding by Teal’s stern command.
Tufts stuck her head out from behind her sister and made a decidedly thoughtful noise. “Hmmm… sure is tempting little birdie,” she stuck her tongue out cheekily and the former Angel went white. “I bet you’d taste real good cooked up with some bleeding salts,”
“Quiet you,” Teal pushed her shorthaired sibling away and turned back to the Fallen. He honestly looked like he’d been rolling around in mud, disgusting. But still… her and Tufts had been forced to crawl through mud and worse on more then one occasion. It was no reason to fall to pieces over… then again they had always had each other to depend on.
“Look here, we’re not going to eat you,” she said, and the armoured stranger glanced up, incredulous.
“-Yet,” she couldn’t resist adding. Her little joke produced the most delightful squeal from him that she couldn’t help but laugh. It just sounded so out of place coming from the tall stranger. Poor little Tufts was laughing so hard she had to clutch her sides.
Bardiel shifted his eyes nervously from one woman to the other unsure of weather they were they going to eat him or not. Clearly they were just as mad as he was.
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