Crematia (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
mercyisweakness) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
maskormenace2015-04-23 12:11 am
mercyisweakness) wrote in maskormenace2015-04-23 12:11 am
Entry tags:
video; forward dated to midnight of 23rd
[ Dragons are the pinnacles of godly creation. They live long, they are the masters of power - power that no race can ever dream to achieve. They can die from age, from injury - but illness?
Impossible.
But here are the sours on her arms and shoulders, her spittle bloody, her teeth are bloodstained, and Crematia will not stop scratching herself - bright lines of red are seen on her neck, her cheeks, even on her breasts as she ripped her shirt off in her rage. Her bright red hair is an oily, tangled mess. In all, she looks like a deranged cavewoman. She even appears to be standing on a steep, rocky cliff-side. ]
Look at me. Look at what has become of me.
[ She's crouching, her black pants tattered as she tries to perch comfortably on a large ribcage of a horse. Her human voice, once seductive, is now a raspy growl. She's not looking at the camera, instead idly tracing a skull with her a finger, the nail dirty from old, dry blood. ]
Apparently elves are now littering the land once again. They were terrible back home, but at least I get to burn and eat them, just like I ate my brother. I didn't have to eat him, but I was curious at to what is like to eat a sibling, and he was so pathetic. Like elves, like the rest of you. Why did Aurican like them so much is beyond me, he never ate an elf. No, he did worst things: he dined with them. Disgusting plant eaters.
[ Crematia is fighting to keep her sanity, trying to speak of her life as though it might be enough to keep the Flare's devouring madness at bay. ]
Your city of heroes won't stop this plague. I'm a creation of a world-maker, I wasn't supposed to be sick. I never been this long without Takhisis. The shroud is grey and nothing is lit. Not even gold glitters in these lands. I want my lair back, I want my war back, I want my son back. Deathfyre will kill Aurican, I know that. Deathfyre is better than all of you: he will make the world burn and my corpse with it.
[ There's a small tension of her shoulders, and she shakes visibly. ]
That thing shouldn't have brought me here. It's a mistake to take away the dead from it's burial grounds.
Well, that's a mistake everyone is going to regret.
[ She looks up, eyes bloodshot. They are full of hate . . . until her expression slackens, and whatever keen intelligence she was holding on so desperately is just gone. ]
City . . . [ Her voice is now raspy but wet. She spits, blood splattering on the ground. ] of heroes.
[ It will be last coherent sentence Crematia will ever utter.
The camera suddenly spins as Crematia knocks it aside. When it finally stops spinning, the angle shows the woman gone, and Crematia in her real body: a large, red dragon with yellow eyes turned bloody, massive, red leathery wings with strange black streaks. Her red scales are unusually shiny, for they are leaking blood and other fluids.
Crematia doesn't say another word. She lets out a horrible, shrieking-like roar, fire pluming out of her jaws and she rushes forward, the camera just barely catching her running and setting fire to nearby trees as she struggles to gain flight.
And with every flap of her wings creates a spray of infected blood. ]
[ OOC: Crematia will be unable to reply to this post; this is just a general heads-up for characters until I get a log ready. ]
Impossible.
But here are the sours on her arms and shoulders, her spittle bloody, her teeth are bloodstained, and Crematia will not stop scratching herself - bright lines of red are seen on her neck, her cheeks, even on her breasts as she ripped her shirt off in her rage. Her bright red hair is an oily, tangled mess. In all, she looks like a deranged cavewoman. She even appears to be standing on a steep, rocky cliff-side. ]
Look at me. Look at what has become of me.
[ She's crouching, her black pants tattered as she tries to perch comfortably on a large ribcage of a horse. Her human voice, once seductive, is now a raspy growl. She's not looking at the camera, instead idly tracing a skull with her a finger, the nail dirty from old, dry blood. ]
Apparently elves are now littering the land once again. They were terrible back home, but at least I get to burn and eat them, just like I ate my brother. I didn't have to eat him, but I was curious at to what is like to eat a sibling, and he was so pathetic. Like elves, like the rest of you. Why did Aurican like them so much is beyond me, he never ate an elf. No, he did worst things: he dined with them. Disgusting plant eaters.
[ Crematia is fighting to keep her sanity, trying to speak of her life as though it might be enough to keep the Flare's devouring madness at bay. ]
Your city of heroes won't stop this plague. I'm a creation of a world-maker, I wasn't supposed to be sick. I never been this long without Takhisis. The shroud is grey and nothing is lit. Not even gold glitters in these lands. I want my lair back, I want my war back, I want my son back. Deathfyre will kill Aurican, I know that. Deathfyre is better than all of you: he will make the world burn and my corpse with it.
[ There's a small tension of her shoulders, and she shakes visibly. ]
That thing shouldn't have brought me here. It's a mistake to take away the dead from it's burial grounds.
Well, that's a mistake everyone is going to regret.
[ She looks up, eyes bloodshot. They are full of hate . . . until her expression slackens, and whatever keen intelligence she was holding on so desperately is just gone. ]
City . . . [ Her voice is now raspy but wet. She spits, blood splattering on the ground. ] of heroes.
[ It will be last coherent sentence Crematia will ever utter.
The camera suddenly spins as Crematia knocks it aside. When it finally stops spinning, the angle shows the woman gone, and Crematia in her real body: a large, red dragon with yellow eyes turned bloody, massive, red leathery wings with strange black streaks. Her red scales are unusually shiny, for they are leaking blood and other fluids.
Crematia doesn't say another word. She lets out a horrible, shrieking-like roar, fire pluming out of her jaws and she rushes forward, the camera just barely catching her running and setting fire to nearby trees as she struggles to gain flight.
And with every flap of her wings creates a spray of infected blood. ]
[ OOC: Crematia will be unable to reply to this post; this is just a general heads-up for characters until I get a log ready. ]