thethirdgeneral-blog

[thethirdgeneral-blog]

crystxllinx:

~ ❧ ~ He was hesitating. Hesitating. No, Lord Vile didn’t hesitate, he only cared about one thing and one thing only and that was delivering death and destruction wherever he went. Moira almost stared at him, such was her surprise. As she knew, as she had begun to realise in the past five minutes, she was nothing but a child. She wasn’t interesting, she wasn’t strong, she wasn’t powerful, hell, she was tall and lanky with dark skin and strange eyes, she wasn’t even particularly pretty. She was just another bug to him, just another bug to be crushed under his boot. And this became apparent when he decided to snap her leg.

In the seconds that passed her mind refused to work, such was its pain and confusion. He’d broken her leg, dropped those shadows on her like a pile-driver and snapped the bone like a twig. Oh, she could build muscle, build a pain thresh-hold higher than any other soldier on the battlefield, but nothing could strengthen bone. He could snap it if he wanted and there was nothing she could do to stop him. What she could do, however, was let it pass.

The pain was intense, but also familiar. Moira had broken bones before; she had been a rough-and-tumble child back home, constantly falling and scraping her knees, injuring skin, breaking bone. Lord Vile had snapped her right leg, when she herself had taken the left when she was eleven years old. The pain, yes, the pain was violent, washing over her in waves that made her feel sick, her head hurting, her throat dry, but she didn’t cry out. She didn’t scream. The only thing which indicated the agony she was in was how pale she suddenly went beneath that dark skin of hers.

When she felt weight on her leg, when she felt the shadows clutch her arms to hold her upright, she felt bile in her throat as she stared into the visor that made his mask. There were eyes behind there, there had to be, eyes watching her, eyes ready to watch her die. But then he did the last thing she expected him to do; he spoke.

And by God, he made her smile.

“Oh, don’t say that, hon,” she wheezed though the pain, a smile on her lips despite her leg simply refusing to take the weight. “Implies you kinda don’t no more…any girl’d be proud to take you home to her father.” ~ ❧ ~

Vile was surprised to find that he was genuinely curious about her. It’d been quite some time since he felt anything other than the dark, burning rage that he’d grown accustomed to, that gave him purpose again after his death. Someone so young had come so close to killing him, actually killing him. All because she could manipulate the minerals in the earth freely without it coming back to take its demanded price as he’d seen so often. Not even the most powerful of Elementals dared used the earth like she did. 

It was shocking that she hadn’t screamed when he’d snapped the bone. Then again, worse things tended to happen in war than broken bones. Though he doubted that Moira had encountered those things yet. She didn’t bear the usual mark. War changed people, Vile himself was a prime example, but she still had a certain innocence about her, like she hadn’t quite grasped just how ugly war was. But the fact that she hadn’t screamed meant she’d gone through it before, probably in her homeland. Still, it did bring him some satisfaction to see that she’d grown pale as a result of the snapped bone. 

Don’t get too comfortable. She’s still got something planned. You let her hold the rock too long. There’s bound to be some sort of attack. Probably even more desperate than the last one. Which tends to mean more powerful, more dangerous. 

The shadows around his armor shifted with the wariness, forming a more protective, denser area around the whole of him. Simultaneously, the ones holding Moira tightened, more snaking around her arms to further restrict her movements. Curious as he was as to what made her tick, what made her be able to use the earth without fear of reprimand, he didn’t let his guard down, didn’t take his eyeless gaze off of her. 

The flirting was going to take some getting used to. 

Vile hummed in response to the smile, a sound hardly heard through his helmet. No one smiled when they saw him. Even though he was well aware it was a part of her act, it still amused him that she could fake it so convincingly. 

“It implies the truth.” 

His head was still tilted as he waited for the attack that was undoubtedly coming. She wasn’t going to bait him into lowering his guard for a simple discussion that he had no interest in. Vile wasn’t concerned with trivial things. No, he thought on a grander scale. One filled with death and destruction. One child was not going to distract him with something as simple as flirting. 

[thethirdgeneral-blog]

caughtrxdhanded:

“Vengeous said, aware thet the helmet even made him sound like Vile.”

- “Skulduggery Pleasant: Playing with Fire” l.7-8, p.212

This quote from the book implies that Vile did speak, at least to Mevolent and the other two generals, seeing how Baron knes how his voice sounded like. It also proves that the helmet changed Skulduggerys voice, seeing how it changed Barons aswell.

I’d forgotten that bit actually. But now that you mention it, it does ring a bell. It’s been roughly four years since I’ve read Playing with Fire, so I’d forgotten many of the smaller details like that. But thanks for clarifying things. And I promise this isn’t me being sarcastic. I truly appreciate the clarification. 

[thethirdgeneral-blog]

Vile probably never spoke where anyone was in earshot if he could help it, simply because his voice would be a dead giveaway that he's Skulduggery, and a part of him knew better than to let anyone find that out. He certainly never would speak around Serpine even though it would be so easy to end his life before he could say anything.

[thethirdgeneral-blog]

crystxllinx:

~ ❧ ~ Her back arched as the shadows tightened, a whimper of agony slipping from her lips. It was like being held by wire, thin and solid and biting into her flesh, blood welling up over her dark skin. Her mouth opened but word failed her, only thoughts prevailing her mind now. Was she going to be the youngest he’d ever killed? Quite probably. 25 years young, so young, barely a woman to him, barely a woman to herself. Not a soldier, a child, a child playing war games. Her fingers were still clinging desperately to that chunk of rock despite her situation, so hard that the surface was beginning to graze her fingertips into bloody tatters. Hold it, feel it, search it, familiarize yourself with it, what’s it made of, the components, the sediment, molecules molecules molecules- -survive for a few more precious seconds and you could walk away with your life! Her eyes moved back to him, back to that armour. He truly was a being of immense power; she’d never met or fought a Necromancer before, never learned how to combat those shadows, those extra limbs capable of ripping, tearing, slicing. It was hard to think of them as shadows, actually. They were knives. Living, breathing knives who had a master who they were determined to obey. In essence, how different was he to her, really? He commanded the shadows, his will was instilled in them as firmly as hers was in the earth. But Vile was far more powerful than her, this much was obvious to anyone. The only question she really, desperately needed the answer to a simple one; what was stronger; earth or shadow?

She let the rock tumble from her fingers, seemingly giving up, giving in to whatever death he was planning for her. As long as he left her head intact for the next few seconds, she’d most probably be fine with it; she could cope with pain. She just didn’t want to cope with a helpless death.

“You really know how to treat a lady, don’t you-?!” ~ ❧ ~

It would almost be a shame to kill someone with that much potential. She almost hurt you. And she’s young. Incredibly young. It’s impressive, isn’t it?

The shadows holding her down remained as taunt and tight as ever despite the voice in the back of Vile’s head. The sheer rage that burned inside him was enough to keep the shadows sharp, to keep them holding Moira down even as he hesitated. He could make her scream, beg for mercy if he so desired. Vile could flay the skin from her bones with barbed whips of darkness, could crush her bones with the weight of it, could impale her through and through, over and over if he wanted. But he was hesitating, studying how she reacted, how she so desperately clung to that rock rather than just give up. He’d dealt with countless cases just like her. Sorcerers that hoped their final trick up their sleeve would be enough to escape his reach. He was growing bored of keeping her there. She had no use to him. Mevolent and his army were the ones that were going to aid him in destroying the world, whether they knew it or not. Moira was standing in the way of that.

Aren’t you the slightest bit curious as to what she can do?

The whimper didn’t escape his notice, and it was enough to renew his waning interest in keeping her alive. It was rare that he actually took his time with his victims. Vile only wanted more death, more destruction, more chaos. He’d never actively relished in torturing people like Serpine, Vengeous, or Mevolent seemed to. Death was death no matter how fast or slow it was delivered. His armor fed off of it, was burning with a cold, sick kind of energy every time he strode through a battlefield. There was not a sorcerer in Ireland, not a sorcerer in the world who would have the power necessary to defeat him at the rate he was going. After all, he was a dead man, a skeleton beneath the armor, wielding death magic. 

Vile moved his hand through the air and the shadows congealed above Moira. With a flick of his hand, the shadows came down sharply on Moira’s leg. The snap was loud, very loud in the near silence surrounding them. If Vile still had a face, he would have smiled to himself. The tendrils holding her legs down evaporated, and Vile moved his hand once again to pull her up by her arms, putting weight on the break in her leg. The empty eye sockets were his eyes should have been remained fixated on her from behind his helmet, watching, waiting for whatever trick she was going to try. It’s going to be a good one. Something you haven’t seen before. Though it’s not going to change anything, is it? You’ll still kill this child. 

His head tilted marginally, inclined in an almost amused manner.  She was flirting with him. 

“I used to.”

[thethirdgeneral-blog]

REBLOG THIS POST IF YOU ARE A ROLEPLAYER IN THE SKULDUGGERY PLEASANT FANDOM AND YOU’LL BE ADDED TO THE MASTERLIST.

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[thethirdgeneral-blog]

crystxllinx:

~ ❧ ~ - Three one thousand-

Damn everything!

It wasn’t enough, one of her fail-safes wasn’t enough. Never before had she used that rather cruel move and have it fail her. The shards of the crystals were long and thin like needles, they impaled her enemies, a simple shard through the eye could perform a precise lobotomy if she so desired. It wasn’t a technique she used lightly, only when it was her life or her enemies, and it had never failed her before today. And now what did she have?

Instinct.  She’d have to rely on instinct. She felt something tighten around her ankle and she hit the ground hard as he was suddenly yanking her towards him, letting out a cry of both pain and panic. If he lay a hand on her, she’d die, she’d die and that would be it, no miracle escapes this time. The shadow around her ankle dug in and she felt blood begin to well up. The pain was worsening, telling her to escape his grip or it would only become unbearable. Her fingers snagged at the ground, trying to stop his pull, but this was one of those rare occasions where her enemies arms were stronger than her own and it did absolutely nothing. 

Her body was dragged over the rubble of the wall she’d been thrown through and her eyes widened, fingers snagging a large chunk of rock, about the thickness of her throat. Her knuckles were bloody from who-knows-what, her fingernails cracked and bleeding. She was in pain and still winded from where those shadows had slammed into her chest, and she was beginning to feel the fatigue, oh, she was beginning to feel tired.

She clung to the chunk of rock, possibly her last chance of survival, and rolled onto her back just as the shadow finished pulling. She was staring up at him, quite literally at his feet, awaiting her death. But oh good God, how many people had been in this position, how many people had been where she was now and opened their mouths, begged for life or begged for mercy or just begged for him to make it quick? How many times had he heard those words? He was going to kill her, that she knew, but by God, if these words were going to be her last, they weren’t going to be a repeat.

“…Hello handsome.” ~ ❧ ~

Vile knew without a doubt that had he been made of flesh like before instead of bone, he would have been killed by the exploding crystals. They would have pierced vital organs, tore his flesh, inhibited any kind of movement upon severing nerves, killed him instantly. As it were, the shards had fit nicely between his ribs and eye sockets before they’d been expelled from by the shadows and armor. 

A part of him was impressed by the display. Very few people ever came that close to hurting him. Let alone someone as completely inexperienced as she was. Moira was nothing more than a child to Vile. A child that damn well nearly hurt him.

There was a certain kind of vicious pleasure coursing through Vile as he dragged Moira over the rocks, as he watched her struggle to break free of the tendril wrapped around her ankle. Another fight won. Another name to add to the ever growing list. It wouldn’t be long now until he’d razed the whole of Ireland to the ground, not long until the word fell victim to the same fate. And if Mevolent succeeded in his plans to bring the Faceless Ones back, he could rid the world of them as well. 

Wouldn’t that be something? 

The tendril wrapped around Moira’s ankle didn’t evaporate upon stopping her at his feet. He wasn’t going to give her a moment to escape, to try anything clever again. More shadows seeped from the armor and wrapped around her other ankle, her wrists, and her forearms. More than a few people had wound up in this exact position. Vile had always ended things differently depending on how close each person got to actually hurting him. And Moira... he was going to make it painful for her.

But then she said what he’d been least expecting.  And Vile simply stared down at her, not saying anything in response.

She gave you a compliment. It’s rude not to say anything, you know? 

Other than the shadows tightening around her ankles, wrists, and forearms to the point of all but severing muscles, he gave no indication that he’d heard what she said. Her obvious attempt to throw him wasn’t going to work. He’d kill her just like every other person that stood in his path. 

[thethirdgeneral-blog]

Not many people ever got past his defenses. The death magic almost had a mind of its own. It protected Vile without him having a conscious thought most of the time. But then again, not many people threw sand in his face. His hand was splayed in the air as he conducted the shadows, guiding them through the rubble in an effort to tear Moira apart before she tried any more tricks with the earth. Vile knew that she'd have more, perhaps many more. Argona Dia Moira specialized in the earth.

The Necromancer strode forward toward the rubble despite his slightly obscured vision. The grains of sand were irritating, tangled and enveloped in the shadows near his eye sockets.

The small spark of curiosity he'd felt upon seeing her was gone. There would be no more toying with her.

He could see through the shadows obstructing his vision enough to know that she was on her feet. He retracted the shadows from the rubble, intending to send them out in a wave so that there was no possible way of her avoiding them like before. Because Vile was bored of this fight. There were many more sorcerers out there that he could tear from limb to limb in the span of seconds.

And then the sand exploded into jagged crystals.

He had reacted instinctively the moment they exploded, forcing the shadows outward, armor shifting to accommodate the size of the crystals. The briefest flash of his skull could be seen as the helmet moved to expel the crystals that had formed inside it, but was quickly covered again.

Vile turned towards Moira, anger burning bright as he swept his hand towards her. A shadow caught her ankle and he yanked sharply, letting it turn serrated as he continued pulling.

thethirdgeneral:

He could end it all quite easily if he wished. The Necromancers had been all too eager to teach him their ways. If by some reason she managed to get even the slightest lead on him, there was field he could generate. Once she was in it, all he had to do was retract it and she’s drop dead. But that didn’t fill his desire, his need for destruction.

Vile’s eyeless gaze remained fixated on the child in front of him. She’d be one of the youngest to die because of him. But she had put up more of a fight than he was expecting from someone as young and inexperienced as she was. It was almost refreshing to have an encounter that was not finished in the span of a few seconds.

The shadows that usually writhed around his armor, so in tune to his thoughts for death that they were constantly seeking a prey, were still as he watched her run at him yet again, a clump of the earth in her hand. Curious as he was about her plan, he was already bringing his hand up to send shadows shearing through her bones when the earth rose up and blocked his view.

Not long after the wall came up did it break as Dia Moira broke through.

Sand. She’d thrown sand in his face. Vile’s armored fist swung through the air, a clump of shadows flinging outwards with the movement, spreading, searching for Moira even as the sand was pushed out of his helmet by the shadows around it.

~ ❧ ~ She’d hit him. She’d saw it, saw the sand stick, saw it hit its mark a she prayed it would. She only had a few seconds to utilize this vital advancement, but then the clump of shadows struck her in the chest like a fist and she went back through the thin wall she’d made. The breath was knocked out of her and the whole thing collapsed into little less than rubble, rubble that those shadows snaked and coiled over, obviously desperate to burrow their way through her flesh. They could have done, she’d counted three instances so far where she should have died, but he was resisting, holding back. Didn’t predators enjoy toying with their food, after all? Still winded, she got her hands against the grass and flipped back onto her feet, chest creaking in pain. She didn’t want to move, but if she lay still then his cruel mercy would come to an end and he’d simply dispose of her, move on to the next soldier determined to meet their end. No. She didn’t want to die, not there. So she quickly splayed her hands, each grain of sand reacting instantly to her command. The grains still in his helmet, the grains slowly being removed, the grains entangled in his shadows, each one gave a tiny tremble before a sudden explosive expansion took place. Every grain became a crystal, about the size of a large football, large and sharp and heavy and entwined with him and the shadows. Her hands lowered, giving herself a maximum of three seconds before running. If they weighed him down, or the shards that exploded towards him actually inflicted some damage, then by God she’d run, she’d run away, live to fight tomorrow. ONE one thousand. TWO one thousand - ~ ❧ ~

[thethirdgeneral-blog]

He could end it all quite easily if he wished. The Necromancers had been all too eager to teach him their ways. If by some reason she managed to get even the slightest lead on him, there was field he could generate. Once she was in it, all he had to do was retract it and she's drop dead. But that didn't fill his desire, his need for destruction.

Vile's eyeless gaze remained fixated on the child in front of him. She'd be one of the youngest to die because of him. But she had put up more of a fight than he was expecting from someone as young and inexperienced as she was. It was almost refreshing to have an encounter that was not finished in the span of a few seconds.

The shadows that usually writhed around his armor, so in tune to his thoughts for death that they were constantly seeking a prey, were still as he watched her run at him yet again, a clump of the earth in her hand. Curious as he was about her plan, he was already bringing his hand up to send shadows shearing through her bones when the earth rose up and blocked his view.

Not long after the wall came up did it break as Dia Moira broke through.

Sand. She'd thrown sand in his face. Vile's armored fist swung through the air, a clump of shadows flinging outwards with the movement, spreading, searching for Moira even as the sand was pushed out of his helmet by the shadows around it.

thethirdgeneral:

He wasn’t at all surprised when she ran for him. Most tended to do the same. Some fled, ran the opposite direction but didn’t get very far before he ended things. The ones who ran straight at him didn’t often last much longer. Vile often impaled them on a spear of shadows whenever they were mid-step, watched how surprise flitted across their face before he truly killed them. 

Vile didn’t move to impale her like he’d done so many others. 

There was only mild concern when the ground cracked beneath his feet. The shadows that wreathed around his armor seemed to still as the crystals started latching on his armor. Vile himself didn’t move, not even a finger as he watched with slight interest. He’d never encountered someone who used the earth so willingly, given the consequences that always followed. 

It was only when the crystals started to truly limit his movements did the Necromancer react. Shadows slipped into the cracks of the crystals, the gaps between his armor and the shards, hardening, acting as a wedge of sorts to break the crystals up. Slowly, they started to break apart, once again freeing him. 

Now he truly was intrigued by her. And irritated that he’d been caught off guard. 

~ ❧ ~ Bedrock wouldn’t be enough. Moira didn’t intend on trying to take the monsters life, obviously; she knew it would take someone older, stronger, wiser, and far, far more powerful to take Vile down. What was she? A foot-solider at best? Barely even that; she was nothing more than a child, only just turned twenty five years old.

Oh no, she didn’t intend on sticking around long enough to attempt his slaughter. She merely had to find a way to slow him down long enough for her to escape.

So she ran at him again, scooping her hand low as she did so. She was aware how pathetic a move like this could look, but it was a necessary move to make if she wanted to leave this battlefield with her life.

As she moved, the earth cracked and sifted and crushed itself down into dust, into sand. It followed her movements as she whipped the other hand around, the rock splitting and shooting up in a thin wall to obscure her from view momentarily - 

and then she broke through it, only a few feet in front of him,  and threw the sand into his face. ~ ❧ ~

[thethirdgeneral-blog]

WELL SHIT. I WANT A VERSE WHERE SKULDUGGERY IS KIND OF LIKE A VOICE IN THE BACK OF VILE'S HEAD BUT AT THE SAME TIME, I'M TOO LAZY TO ACTUALLY MAKE VERSES. And it's mainly because goldenxeyed followed me and let's be real, Skulduggery would probably take vicious pleasure in Vile trying to kill Erskine. But like... Vile is a completely different person than Skulduggery. And it doesn't feel like Skulduggery would be a voice in the back of Vile's head? Eh oh well. I'm probably gonna do it anyways.

[thethirdgeneral-blog]

larrikiin

He had no qualms about attacking someone who had been a former ally. Vile was fighting with Mevolent, and anyone that stood against him was considered an enemy. Even the Dead Men.  

The shadows obeyed his command with hardly a flick of his wrist, sailing towards the other Necromancer without a sound.

They should know better by now. Vile wasn’t going to be stopped by a  mere handful of sorcerers. IT would take hundreds, thousands of  sorcerer’s to even injure him. One Necromancer wasn’t going to a challenge.

[thethirdgeneral-blog]

crystxllinx:

~ ❧ ~ She didn’t intend to try take him on alone. She may have been young and impetuous and ridiculously silly but she wasn’t an idiot, she knew the rule. Don’t fight Vile alone, wait until you have your army behind you and attack as one, hope luck is on your side. But Moira didn’t have an army, she didn’t have luck, and she most certainly didn’t have a hope in hell.

So of course she went straight for him any way.

The shadows went straight at her as she thought they would; she’d been trained how to combat Necromancy, how to make sure those shadows didn’t impale you so easily. She’d been taught how to break her root, give up her grip on the earth until the exact second she’d need it, and so that was what she did, moving from her firm space into another, at the last possible second digging her feet into the ground and twisting. The earth obeyed, the earth always obeyed, cracking and splitting around his feet; her hands moved up to conduct the several long, thick shards of crystal which latched onto his armour like a parasite, growing and cracking, trying to hold him still.

And all the while, her eyes remained where his would have been if not obscured by that helmet. ~ ❧ ~

He wasn’t at all surprised when she ran for him. Most tended to do the same. Some fled, ran the opposite direction but didn’t get very far before he ended things. The ones who ran straight at him didn’t often last much longer. Vile often impaled them on a spear of shadows whenever they were mid-step, watched how surprise flitted across their face before he truly killed them. 

Vile didn’t move to impale her like he’d done so many others. 

There was only mild concern when the ground cracked beneath his feet. The shadows that wreathed around his armor seemed to still as the crystals started latching on his armor. Vile himself didn’t move, not even a finger as he watched with slight interest. He’d never encountered someone who used the earth so willingly, given the consequences that always followed. 

It was only when the crystals started to truly limit his movements did the Necromancer react. Shadows slipped into the cracks of the crystals, the gaps between his armor and the shards, hardening, acting as a wedge of sorts to break the crystals up. Slowly, they started to break apart, once again freeing him. 

Now he truly was intrigued by her. And irritated that he’d been caught off guard. 

[thethirdgeneral-blog]

✂

Send me ‘✂’ and my muse will kill yours. Right now. Brutally, horribly, bloody. Just do it.Status || Accepting || caughtrxdhanded

There was no rush as Vile stalked slowly across the field towards Serpine. Their teleporter was dead, torn apart by the very shadows wreathing around his armor. The new Resistance leader wasn’t going to escape again unless they happened to have another teleporter around that wasn’t in bloody pieces across the field. A few more sorcerers that dared step in his path were torn apart as he continued the slow, steady walk towards Serpine.

It was almost lazy the way Vile flicked his hand and sent shadows speeding towards his former ally. In an instant the red right hand was nothing more than a stump on the ground. Serpine’s best weapon, useless. 

If he’d had a face beneath the mask, Vile would have been smiling with a cruel sense of pleasure. Not even the former general was a match for him. 

Shadows flew, lopping off the fingers of his other hand, then his wrist, his elbow, his shoulder. Dark blades cut along his torso, cutting deep enough to see the bones of his ribs through tattered clothing, cut slivers of skin away from his legs. And as he fell spears of darkness impaled Serpine, keeping him upright as Vile drew closer. It was only when he was standing just in front of the other did he finally take his head. 

The thunk as it hit the ground was beyond satisfying. 

[thethirdgeneral-blog]

crystxllinx

Vile didn’t move nor speak as he studied the woman standing in front of him. Many sorcerers had tried standing before him during the war. He’d killed them all with little to no effort. Shadows coiled around his armor, sharpening, moving almost of their own accord  they were so tuned into his hatred of Argona Dia Moria. 

But the Necromancer didn’t strike yet. She intrigued him in a way. 

She wasn’t as powerful as many of the sorcerers he’d killed before. Not even close, and yet here she was, standing before him. Vile  couldn’t decide whether she was brave or stupid, not that he truly  cared which it was. 

With a wave of his hand, he sent a spear of sharpened shadows straight for her, intending to end things then and there and move on to his next enemy. 

[thethirdgeneral-blog]

Send me ‘✂’ and my muse will kill yours. Right now. Brutally, horribly, bloody. Just do it.