|Posted: Oct 11 10:48 pm
|A blast of lightning from the west.
Sanity rumbles in my brain like a loud rainshower
The drums of time have rolled and ceased,
the seeds of power await their fertilization.
Shall life renew these bodies?
Will all death be annulled?
Will I fill these void veins again with youth?
Wash away with immortal water, age and decay?
My heart hangs with lustful thoughts.
I hearken into the womb of the earth.
My icy heart shrinks, aching. Death.
My ancient scars are my glory.
Have the seas been dried?
Thunder crashes wakening me from plotting and planning.
The floodgates of sanity overflow and I see reality again.
A dark horizon looms in the distance of sanity. An unsavory form struggles to focus on reams of sheepskin. "Why does the flesh mock me so?" A dim glow of embers still burns in the fireplace. Shadows flicker about her tomb. Ancient runes and bone shard shadows dance within her minds eye. Slowly and wickedly she feels the pull upon her again. "So much knowledge to be gained." A cold flash suddenly passes through her flesh. "Yes, my old friend, I must continue my research. Even in death you still serve me well."
Day after dreary day is spent within the cairn. A student of death within a house of undeath researching a book of the damned. Thoughts fall into dream, dream falls to nightmare, nightmare has become reality. What is real? Blank stares of rotting meat now mock she who treasures them. "What does this all mean? So much power within my grasp and yet I am not permitted to wield it." The hunkering form gets up from her studies and initiates an embrace upon one of his most prized possessions. She begins to moan as she caresses its rotting flesh.
From time to time a traveler wanders and takes notice of the strange lights within the open mound. Tonight is such an evening. A small band in search of glory and riches.
Perhaps using every last bit of their mundane bravery they are able to blank out their minds for a few moments. The stench alone would have made lesser creatures wretch.
Slowly she creeps forth toward the entrance of her lair. Their weapons are at the ready, gleaming in the moonlight. A hunting dog begins to bark furiously, his master has his bow notched, bowstring tightly drawn.
In an instant blood flies and corpses begin to assail to the soft earth.
“What is it?”
“Run for your lives!”
Only the hunter makes it home to try to rally others to the cairn. In times his dreams are filled with noxious visions and lustful perversions. What was it? How could I leave my friends to die? Her eyeless stare burns into his minds eye night after grueling night.
“Snorri, we are making another foray into Silverpine tonight. We mean to avenge our fallen! Are you with us?”
These words are met only with a blank stare and a spot of drool slowing inching down the dwarf’s beard.
Sanity is a precious commodity.