MAangel
Aug 14, 2012 20:17:34 GMT -6
Post by Bardiel on Aug 14, 2012 20:17:34 GMT -6
More QoD inspired scriblings.
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The heavy iron wrought ring was secured crushingly tight, but thanks to the torrent of blessed oils it was pumping through the angels veins he took little notice. There was a curdling scream followed by a wet slap as the angel carved upward through its foe’s sternum, so that the Unclean’s innards spilled out onto the floor.
Sacred pollices distilled by the Seraphim themselves sent a lightning bolt of euphoria down the angel’s spine as a reward, the orgasmic sensation causing his mussels to knot and twist into sinewy rock.
Another target. The winged butcher cannot repress a moan as its arm lashes out, the strike severing half of the Blasphemers head like a guillotine. Sweet release came then, followed by the splash of blood and grey matter.
The epidermic thorns of the angels halo continued to supply a maelstrom of intoxicating fluids which set his nervous system afire, the drugs blazing a righteous path through his brain, the chemicals igniting the angel’s synapses like fireworks.
The pain was so far away as to be non existent. The movements of his targets were so slow, too slow. The hellish enemies of the Host were sluggish, their features hideous, revolting. The boiling cocktail rampaging through the angel’s heart, boiling out of his eyeballs, dragged those dark creatures out into the light leaving their unsightliness nowhere to hide. Through the sack of flesh the angel cleaved, his frenzy liberating them of their vivid ugliness in a crimson plume. They were beautiful on the inside.
It didn’t matter how many there were, they had all been judged, and found wanting. This was justice, this was perfection, this was the closest the angel had ever come to God.
Rabid on the incense of their blood.
Dancing drunkenly to the sound of their
screams.
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“Where are they now Brother?”
“We locked them away.”
“They spend the intervals between battle in contemplation and prayer.”
“Many Brothers and Sisters commune with God in solitude.”
“Ah yes, forgive me. It is as you say.”
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The heavy iron wrought ring was secured crushingly tight, but thanks to the torrent of blessed oils it was pumping through the angels veins he took little notice. There was a curdling scream followed by a wet slap as the angel carved upward through its foe’s sternum, so that the Unclean’s innards spilled out onto the floor.
Sacred pollices distilled by the Seraphim themselves sent a lightning bolt of euphoria down the angel’s spine as a reward, the orgasmic sensation causing his mussels to knot and twist into sinewy rock.
Another target. The winged butcher cannot repress a moan as its arm lashes out, the strike severing half of the Blasphemers head like a guillotine. Sweet release came then, followed by the splash of blood and grey matter.
The epidermic thorns of the angels halo continued to supply a maelstrom of intoxicating fluids which set his nervous system afire, the drugs blazing a righteous path through his brain, the chemicals igniting the angel’s synapses like fireworks.
The pain was so far away as to be non existent. The movements of his targets were so slow, too slow. The hellish enemies of the Host were sluggish, their features hideous, revolting. The boiling cocktail rampaging through the angel’s heart, boiling out of his eyeballs, dragged those dark creatures out into the light leaving their unsightliness nowhere to hide. Through the sack of flesh the angel cleaved, his frenzy liberating them of their vivid ugliness in a crimson plume. They were beautiful on the inside.
It didn’t matter how many there were, they had all been judged, and found wanting. This was justice, this was perfection, this was the closest the angel had ever come to God.
Rabid on the incense of their blood.
Dancing drunkenly to the sound of their
screams.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Where are they now Brother?”
“We locked them away.”
“They spend the intervals between battle in contemplation and prayer.”
“Many Brothers and Sisters commune with God in solitude.”
“Ah yes, forgive me. It is as you say.”