Role

Chapter 7

Ill Fated
Added Mon Jan 26 10:45:40 2009 at level 2:

Spittle drips from his cracked and crusted lips, spread wide in a malicious,
fang-bearing grin of ecstasy alloyed with insanity. His breath comes hot and
heavy as he stalks his whimpering, petrified prey. Calling upon he innate
strength of the truly wicked, he bunches his muscles and springs upon her
lithe, half-starved elven form.Chained as she is, with nowhere but small
circles to run about the stake that anchors her within the grimy cell, she
cowers, shuddering not unlike a mouse hearing the shriek of an owl overhead
at the darkest hour of the night. He pounces upon her, his human weight
lending force to his maniacal rage. Her face is masked in terror, though the
tenancy of that visage quickly fades into a defeated, expressionless
resignation before her eyes roll back into her head and she fades into the
welcome embrace of nothingness.She will know what happened, but will never
remember it. The fates are unusually kind, this time.

Heavy footsteps echo down the dark corridor, rousing her from fitful sleep.
The rattle of keys and the turn of the lock cause her to open a swollen,
blood-crusted eye. She stares warily towards the entrance, feigning sleep
even as her body begins to convulse in abject terror. The termagant shaking
causes her chains to rattle, belying her awareness of the intruders within
the small, dank cell. The muttering of the beast, for he is certainly that,
escalates into screams of rage and fear as the forms that have entered the
cramped space remove his chains and utter the indecipherable incantations of
the arcane, bending him to their will. As he is lead away, his face a mask
of terror even the strongest magics cannot constrain, a smile spreads across
her lips. Murmuring quietly to herself as the door closes and the lock
turns, her hand settles upon the growing lump of her belly, gently stroking.
Slowly, the pains ease into a constant throb. Soon, she thinks, this
aberration will be drawn from her. If it does not consume her, first.

Pain. Dark rivers of undulating, unrelenting and unremitting pain course
through her lithe body, culminating in backbreaking, jaw clenching, teeth
crushing convulsions. Her cries of agony do not go unnoticed. Even as the
last throws of agony erupt between her legs, crowning in a pool of mucous and
blood, she feels something break within her. As the placenta encased form
slides out from within her, a wave of darkness, interminable eternity, slowly
consumes her consciousness. She will never be aware of the dark, distinctly
feminine form standing over her cooling body, uttering unintelligible phrases
that lift the still form from between her wretched thighs. She will never
know the road her progeny will travel, that its twists and turns will be more
vile, by far, than her own deplorable existence. Standing over the corpse of
her recently expired slave, the newcomer nods her head with a smirk of dark