murderreign

[murderreign]

In other news I was told to stop making goth bitches, by my cousin so here's my swarmkeeper

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//Serkan does still have his ram horns in slayer form btw. If anyone was wondering.

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"I could probably fit someones entire head in the slayers mouth. Right? Right?"

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❝ Yeah, okay, sooo - I just need you to stick your head riiiight in here for me. ❞ [ He is pointing at a guillotine . . . ]

Looks between Puck and the guillotine. "Okay but like... what if I didn't do that? What if I went over there instead?" Serkan points in the opposite direction, towards a forest trail that currently does not have a guillotine near it.

"If you're going to kill me, I at least expect more than a quick beheading. If you're not going to maul me what's even the point--"

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"And yet she turned me, Puck~"

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"I’m already in too deep." - Curumë @chainedbychoice

"Then I'll give you a shovel. Or i'll dig you out. Who do I have to kill to make this better for you?" Curumë has his full attention, words dripping with an eagerness to kill, to please.

"You've helped me, let me help you."

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sends u back a decapitated arm instead bc i love u the most

"Aww... this is my favorite." Yes. Yes, he's going to chew on the fingers.

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Serkan lets out a loud whine at her reply, mentally kicking himself for expecting anything more. "Can you at least... lay here?" If she wasn't going to answer any of his questions, the least she could do was be his personal hugging pillow. He may have been a dumbass, but in his mind at least, she still bit him and was partially responsible for this situation--

"I need you..." He breathes out, giving her the most pathetic look possible. Which... admittedly wasn't difficult in the slightest, given how pathetic he was currently actually feeling.

HER LIPS PARTED TO SPEAK. But just as quickly they shut as she grinned, in a way that could only spell trouble, one that showed she was clearly still unhappy with him.

"Maybe I should just let ya figure that out yourself, hm? Let ya fumble around like a pup without eyes."

She wasn't being petty. He needed to learn his lesson.

Okay, maybe she was being petty, but the latter part was true as well. At least, that's what she would try to convince herself as she watched him suffer.

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The Black Hand is more willing to share than Bhaal is, it seemed. Much to Serkans confliction.

Bhaal needs him to control the brain, to unleash slaughter across Faerun.

Gortash needs him to control the brain, to rule and inspire fear and keep the sheep in line.

His companions need him to kill the brain, to free them and himself from the tadpoles.

Everyone needed something from him. He couldn't please everyone. He doesn't know what to do, what he wants to do. Because that's what this has come to now, hasn't it? It was so easy to follow The Urge, which he's now come to believe was Bhaals own promptings. It was so easy when it was just one thing he had to listen to. Then his companions, but often enough those two things could coincide. Rarely any conflicts.

Now? Three opposing options, all leading to different conclusions. Every cell in his body screamed for death, to kill this man, claim his throne and damn Faerun to a reign of bloody destruction.

And yet, his mind... it didn't know what it wanted.

He didn't want to kill this man. Not really. He didn't want his companions to die either.

He wanted Bhaal to be pleased with him.

He didn't know what to do with this information. None of it fit together. He would have to pick one, and he felt so painfully unequipped for the task. He can't for the life of him remember a time where he'd actually had to make a decision, wholly on his own.

He felt like he was going to throw up.

"..." Was Bhaal even upset about Ketheric? He hadn't said so, if he was. Though, as long as Serkan had the netherstone in the end... he supposed it probably didn't matter all too much at the moment. Maybe Bhaal would be a bit upset that he hadn't kill the man... re-killed the man, or whatever that would be.

"I don't... believe he's unhappy with the arrangement." Serkan finally says, the response sounding off. Some part of him wants to just tell him. Tell him that at the end of it all, Bhaal wants his head sliced from his body and dropped off the edge of the netherbrain. Wants only Serkan to win the throne.

No, but that wasn't quite right either... was it?

No, Bhaal wants to be the only winner. Serkan was just... the method. He would lose everything, wouldn't he? Would never have anything, but Bhaal. The Urge. Death. Is that... really what he wanted?

Serkans brows furrow in thought. "What if... I wasn't Bhaals Chosen?" Then he quickly continued. "What if I lost to Orin, or he picked her over me?" A lie, but hopefully convincing enough for Gortash to not realize his true thoughts.

Gortash simply waited, watched as Serkan fell into his own thoughts -- he could be patient. Watch as the gears clicked and whirred in his old ally's mind, as the blood rushed through his veins and prompted him towards bloody destruction.

He could wait.

"The Black Hand will never turn away an ally if they are of use to Him," Enver hummed, "Tiamat, Bhaal, Myrkul, Maglubiyet, Loviatar - all allies of Bane at one point or another."

The Edict of Bane held his hand up, encased in the golden gauntlet that held his Netherstone, "You are required for controlling the Brain. You inspire fear in the people of the City. You help make them subservient to me."

"All things Lord Bane enjoys greatly," He finished, before gesturing wide, "Conquest cannot happen alone, after all."

Dark eyes studied the Bhaalspawn for a moment. Flicked over him as Gortash thought.

"Is Bhaal unhappy with this arrangement?" He questioned, "If He's upset about Myrkul's Chosen, you may need to update Him on recent events. He receives the souls of those you slaughter in the name of our rule, and Bane receives one of the most powerful cities on the Coast. I don't see where this could be a disappointment for Him."

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Oh how his mind burned with the desire to slit that smug smile into something far more grotesque, but he shoves it down as best he can. Trembling hands ball up into fists, nails digging into flesh managing to ground him somewhat.

"We aren't always together, are we? What of the instances where we separate and i'm left with Astarion or Shadowheart?" It was a genuine question, though he felt he already knew the answer.

Speaking of Astarion and Shadowheart... if anyone had a decent bottle of wine stashed from their camp supplies, it would be one of them.

"Fine." There would be surprisingly little argument from the cleric, who trotted off to camp.

About twenty minutes later, the half-elf would track down the mage again, thrusting a bottle of wine out towards him. "I fear this will have to be good enough." Not that he had much of the skillset required to tell good wine for cheap wine at the moment.

📜 ࣪ . ࿐ ˚ . A SMUG, SELF-SATISFIED SMILE ERASED the a anger clouding his expression the moment he saw the man’s desperation.

Naturally, Serkan was desperate to remain with the group and within reach of the artifact’s protection ( all of them were ), and the desperate were easy to bend, easy to shape. That alone made Serkan tolerable enough for Lorroakan not to kick him out of camp immediately.

❝No. You will act only when I give the signal,❞ he corrected, then added with a sneer, ❝...Assuming, of course, I allow you to remain at all.❞

Lorroakan eyed him and Serkan’s trembling hands with thinly veiled disdain, as though appraising a particularly unpleasant insect.

❝Oh, by the Weave... Compose yourself,❞ he said, tone flat and unimpressed. ❝You are most fortunate my mood leans toward leniency — for now. But I expect you to make yourself useful. Go fetch me a bottle of wine ; something drinkable, if that is not too complex a task for you.❞

The hardships of the road were relentless, and if Serkan clung so desperately to their company, he would have to earn his place. Lorroakan didn’t expect loyalty from this rabid cur, but obedience?

Obedience could be taught.

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Whatever he had lost? Gods, what hadn't he lost? Sometimes, when he healed himself he could get snippets back but never anything useful. Never what he needed. He doesn't need to know that he ate honey bread on a random morning god knows how many decades ago.

"Good luck with that, healing magic hasn't done me much good in that regard." Probably because it had taken so long for his wounds to be fully and properly healed. So now his ruined brain had healed in tatters. It was like trying to heal a wound that had already scarred over.

As Gortash's gaze moves to the Watchers, his do as well. "Isn't being an assassin meant to be impersonal as well?" He says first, before actually thinking about the words. The watchers where large, loud and obvious. Serkan was smaller, could slip in and out with some level of ease and could actually hold a conversation on a good day. He was... much more maneuverable.

And then another part of him mentally scoffs at the futility of it all. Why is he even here, trying to bargain with this one? Father says there can only be one ruler at the end, he will demand this ones blood in time too. Sister is just the first priority.

Once her blood runs rivers beneath his boots, this one too will taste the metal of his halberd as it gouges it's way through his jaw--

The cleric blinks, realizing he'd been silent for a likely concerning amount of time. "And... Bane is alright with you sharing the throne?" He blurts out, the question piggy backing off of his own thoughts from a moment ago.

"Of course you will. I have full faith in your capabilities - even in this... diminished state you've found yourself in."

Enver took the moment to sit upon his new throne in the now empty hall - clear of the noble corpses he'd created not too long ago. Looking over Serkan, he knew from his tone that his old friend clearly distrusted him - gods, what had Orin done to him? - but there was still a gap for him to make his case in.

And so he would.

"Whatever you have lost can be regained, my dear assassin," The Archduke hummed, "Once your sister is no longer an issue and the Brain is contained - we will have all the time in the world to piece your brain back together."

A dark eyebrow raised, Enver giving a glance to the automatons that stood at the ready by the walls, "And really - would you not enjoy being the blade of Baldur's Gate? They do say that actions speak louder than words - and the Watchers, while practical, can be a bit... impersonal."

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//So, uhhhhhh Bhaal Temple Serkan run? Non-Tadpoled Serkan??? Don't ask the logistics of this.

Anyway this is what Pre-game Serkan looks like (at least after he does the face tattoos). This is his armor (and the camp version of it) and he does his hair differently than tadpoled Serkan.

This man apparently refuses to fully put his tits away. Always has to be a cleavage window of some kind smh

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//Still thinking about that time someone didn't read my info on Serkan and called him madam and not even ironically--

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@deathcultp0litics | Cont from here

Polish? For a split moment he almost wonders how well this man had known him. This entire time, all these months, he couldn't count the amount of times he'd been compared to a rabid animal. The urges demanded blood on his hands, between his teeth and on his tongue and gods were they hard to ignore.

Yet... Ketheric had implied before that he was different, not quite the same as the before Serkan. Which... once again circles him back to how well does Gortash know him? He knows the before Serkan, but not the current. He wishes he knew how different the two were. Maybe he would tell him, Gortash sounded like he liked him more than Ketheric had at the very least.

"It doesn't matter where she strikes, i'm going to find her first." The mention of Orin causes a rare flare of anger in his gut, but like many things, it doesn't quite feel like it belongs to him.

He forces the feeling back down, and focuses on the question that pops into his mind next. "You would offer to rule with a man who barely remembers his own name? You... tell me that I helped plan this but... I don't..." Serkan trails off, trying to think of how to word this.

"I don't have the... intellect I think I had before. I'd be little more than a blade for you to point towards a target." His words don't disguise the fact that he's clearly considering the proposal, but also do little to hide his apparent distrust of the man.

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//Kicks down the door. I need you all to look at my boy!!!!!

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PROMPTS FROM LABYRINTH *  assorted dialogue from the 1986 film, adjust as necessary

that's not fair!

you say that so often, i wonder what your basis for comparison is?

it's only forever. not long at all.

give me the child.

i have been generous up 'til now. i can be cruel.

generous? what have you done that's generous?

everything that you wanted, i have done.

you cowered before me.

i have turned the world upside down, and i have done it all for you.

i am exhausted from living up to your expectations.

i move the stars for no one.

i have fought my way here to the castle.

look what i'm offering you.

just fear me. love me.

do as i say.

you have no power over me.

you're horrible.

let's handle this thing logically.

may we have your permission?

how you turn my world, you precious thing.

i can never remember the line.

she'll never give up.

your eyes can be so cruel, just as i can be so cruel.

i've brought you a gift.

did you say hello?

you don't by any chance know the way through this labyrinth, do you?

come inside.

don't go on.

go back while you still can.

this is not the way.

soon it will be too late.

don't pay attention to them.

i'm sorry, i'm just doing my job.

don't expect a big reaction.

the path you take will lead you to certain destruction!

you're him, aren't you?

i didn't mean it.

this tastes strange.

ah, what have we here?

in 9 hours and 23 minutes... you'll be mine.

what do you mean "help?"

you're hurting!

would you like us to let go?

come on, which way?

we haven't got all day.

was that wrong?

i need you, [name].

i don't know why, but every now and again in my life... for no reason at all... i need you. all of you.

what did you have to go and do a thing like that for?

you kissed me!

go back to your room.

what have i done? i've lost my only friend. that's what i've done.

it bit me!

does anyone want to play a game of scrabble?

unlock the door!

throw down your weapons.

i can bear it no longer!

i have to face him alone.

that's the way it's done.

what's the matter, my dear?

what kind of position is that?

the way forward is sometimes the way back.

it's very rude to stare.

i was just wondering which door to choose.

what were you saying?

wait, i can't understand you.

it's not fair!

call out the guards!

you're going the wrong way!

i can conquer this mountain!

it seems like we're not getting anywhere.

it seemed solid enough.

you know your problem? you take too many things for granted.

thanks for nothing, [name].

i think we've got them surrounded.

things are not always what they seem in this place.

what choice have you got?

it's hopeless asking you anything.

don't try to embarrass me.

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›       TENSION   LINER   PROMPTS     

"I   dare   you   to   try."

"Do   you   always   get   close?"

"You’re   pushing   my   limits."

"Stop   looking   at   me   like   that."

"I’m   losing   control   here."

"You   have   no   idea,   do   you?"

"I   can’t   resist   you   anymore."

"Stay   back,   or   don’t."

"I   know   what   you   want."

"This   is   getting   dangerous   now."

"You’re   too   tempting   for   me."

"I   shouldn’t   want   this,   but…"

"I   don’t   play   fair,   remember?"

"Careful,   you’re   testing   me."

"You’re   just   making   it   worse."

"You’re   too   close   for   comfort."

"Do   you   always   push   buttons?"

"Stop   before   I   kiss   you."

"You’re   making   it   too   hard."

"I   can’t   stop   thinking   about   you."

"I   want   you   too   much."

"You   know   exactly   what   you’re   doing."

"I’m   not   playing   games   here."

"You’ve   crossed   the   line   now."

"Keep   pushing,   and   you’ll   regret   it."

"This   is   dangerous,   isn’t   it?"

"I’m   trying   not   to   care."

"Don’t   make   me   regret   this."

"You’re   playing   with   fire."

"You   don’t   know   what’s   coming."

"I   shouldn’t   be   this   close."

"We’re   getting   dangerously   close   now."

"I   can   feel   the   heat."

"Don’t   test   me   right   now."

"I   want   you   too   badly."

"Don’t   make   me   chase   you."

"You’re   distracting   me,   you   know."

"I   won’t   fall   for   this."

"I   want   you,   but…"

"What   do   you   want   from   me?"

"I’ll   never   give   in."

"I’m   trying   not   to   care."

"You’re   playing   with   my   patience."

"Don’t   make   this   harder,   please."

"I   can’t   stop   this   feeling."

"I’m   already   in   too   deep."

"You   won’t   walk   away   unscathed."

"You’re   walking   a   fine   line."

"I’m   trying   to   stay   calm."

"What   are   you   doing   to   me?"