therealdesastrffxivpast - Tumblr blog

therealdesastrffxivpast · 24 days ago

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"GO BACK TO SLEEP!"

OOC: Hey all! This is a screenshot of one of my newly revamped OCs, Loki, and the kickoff for my plot of their faction, House Glaceil. These are vampires I made lorewise (Permafrost Vampires) that are somewhat more accurate to traditional european vampire lore.

This was fun write and I hope you enjoy it! Vampires can be brutal :)

CW: Blood & heavy gore in the writing!

“A new dawn, bathed in blood, is upon us, my brethren!”

He may as well be the God of Chaos with how he stands behind the lecture, gazing out at all of his loyalists. Those loyal to him know what’s happening, twisted, excited grins evident as fangs are flashed. Oh, they want to see blood.

After centuries of cruelty. Centuries of fixation on the old ways. They’ve had it. THEY’VE HAD IT.

Several elezen are bound by expertly-tied rope, courtesy of the House’s now-true Lord. Muffled screams and whimpers emit from the victims of this twisted sermon.

Lord Loki de Glaceil is bathed in a deep red from the crystals to his sides, with the endless void seemingly behind him. Very little light is in their Temple here, and the voidsent frozen in time, emerging from the murky depths of the dark, seems to stare out sleepily at the cult members.

Loki continues, unable to help but let a joyful cackle spill from him. “With Ishgard changing, it is time for our House to embrace change as well. No longer will we hide in the shadows. No longer must we fear mortals and bow to their commands.”

A low, hissing cheer rises up from the crowd, glowing serpentine eyes locked on the Lord.

Raising his claws and slamming his fist on the lectern, Loki gives another wild cackle, some strands of his ebon hair falling into his face. His ears twitch back, and he runs his tongue over his sharp teeth. “The world is our hunting ground. We need not abuse blood slaves for our own gain. We need not bury what these fiends before me consider ‘lesser’ under layer upon layer of bodies and blood. NO! That practice ends here, and now.”

The cheers intensify, along with the growls and whimpers of those tied up, who sound out in protest, not like they can do a damn thing. It seems they’ve been sapped of power and beaten to a pulp in some fashion. The House had been undergoing change slowly, and the serpents have finally struck…

Leading to this now extremely *rapid* change for it as a whole.

“Our prey will fear us, along with the rest of the world. Whether they remember we are their hunters, or not… We can tear through memories and minds oh so beautifully, just like flesh, with our claws and teeth.”

His eyes darken, and yet another mad laugh escapes him. “And if… perchance… someone gets a touch too aggressive with us, we can dine on their hearts, now can’t we.”

The Permafrost vampires need not kill their prey, after all, and would rarely do so unless they deem it necessary. They would sometimes wipe the memories of their prey, but at times, not even bother. Especially now, with the wider world being deemed as necessary to fear them.

While this shift in hunting method is generally progressive and trending less toward ‘morally absent’ and more toward ‘morally grey’, it’s clear Loki has no qualms with slaughter should he deem it necessary, or striking fear into his prey.

He is a bloodthirsty monster, after all…

…moreso than most, really. He loves tearing the life from his victims, truly. Just as much as he enjoys his ‘precious’ treasures, those he takes as lovers. War, love… blood, sex. All the joys of life, to him, an art, really. Something at the top of the roster of his many talents.

Lord Loki Glaceil is unhinged like his father, even if initiating real change for his House.

Nothing makes that as abundantly clear as when he crouches and leaps over the lectern, splattering blood everywhere, including over the victims tied up in a fetal position a few yalms from the lectern. He straightens up, more strands of his hair falling into his face, turning him from a well-kept and esteemed Lord into a wild monster.

His magic swirls around him, a miasma of red and black. A man of many talents, he’s got bardic magic in the bag, as demonstrated…well, now. Even if it’s just for show, and not something he uses in combat, typically.

When he begins to hum, background instrumentals begin. Not to mention very, very eerie distant background screams and other such similar noises. He addresses his people as he approaches his father, Lord Zimant de Glaceil.

“Don’t fret precious, I’m here… step away from the window. Go …back to sleep. Safe from pain, and truth, and choicccccce… and other poison devils…. See they don’t give a **Fuck** about you, like I do…”

As his voice now echoes, he grabs his father by the throat with one hand and hoists him up. Cackling, he screams, “COUNTING BODIES LIKE SHEEP… COUNTING BODIES LIKE SHEEP…”

Then, Loki raises his other hand thrusting it toward his chest and slashing through his fancy suit and flesh.

All the while, letting out roar-screams of excitement that echo endlessly through this odd void.

He literally begins peeling away the flesh as tears spill from the enemy Lord’s eyes, cries of sheer agony slipping from the muzzle over his mouth. That process done, Loki’s hand returns to his father’s chest and tears through the chest muscle, bloodied while seeking out the rib on the left side… ah.

Perfect.

SNAP!

“GO BACK TO SLEEP!”

The distant sound of war drums indeed rises up the more and more Loki mutilates the still living body of the (very soon to be) former House’s leader.

With that sickening noise, it’s torn from the rest of the ribcage. CRACK! Then another… CRACK! Then another.

Screams rise up from Lord Zimant’s chest, though that definitely won’t be the case for long. They turn garbled and unclear as it becomes hard for him to breathe… but that’s not what kills him.

Loki’s hand wraps around his heart and begins pulling. With an intense, wet tearing noise, the heart is dislodged from its owner. Loki drops the limp body of his father to the ground and opens his jaws, sinking his fangs into the heart.

He doesn’t drink it.

No, that would be silly.

He tears off a chunk and begins to chew. Hungrily, starved, as if this is the most delicious treat in the world. Loki even gives a moan-like growl as he does so, as if in some sort of intense ecstasy. His eyes even roll back a little, this twisted ritual caressing him in all the right ways.

When he finishes with the heart, he licks his lips and gives a hum.

His eyes gaze out at the excited stares of his followers. Some do look upon him with a healthy dose of fear, but inspiration, nonetheless. Those tied up look up at him in sheer horror… knowing their fate.

Indeed… Loki kneels down beside one of the vampires, a male who had been very loyal to his father. He grabs his chin and removes the muzzle of the victim, tilting his head. What an unusual event. Loki, covered in blood, seems to want to hear what this one has to say.

A desperate, pleading voice rings out. “M-master, my love… w-what… please spare me, after all we’ve been through…” gasps Orlault. Loki had fallen in love with this loyalist to his father, but had never quite been able to convince him to leave those twisted beliefs behind.

So when Orlault killed one of the ‘prey items’ Loki had taken a fancy to - that is, offered a home in exchange for blood - Loki dismissed this and seemed to not care.

In reality, Loki never forgot.

Her name had been Eve, such a pretty little thing in mind and body. She thought she had a second chance here in the House, willingly providing for *some* of Lord Loki’s blood needs and eventually falling in love with him.

Orlault didn’t like the attention she got from the Lord, though he was fully aware of the Lord’s polyamory and accepting of it. But…with a blood slave? Livestock?

Even if Loki didn’t see her that way… Orlault did.

And so, one day, he ‘took care of the problem’, begging the Lord’s forgiveness and professing a deep love for him. Loki, the snake he is, accepted this for a long while, keeping the charade up for years that he still loved him.

Which marks this moment as… particularly important.

Orlault, for his part, is taken off guard completely.

Loki leans into his ear and whispers, “But of course. You are so skilled with your tongue, and such a romantic lover, my precious. This is merely a …punishment for listening oh so well to my Father when, truly, I wished you would listen to me. Alas, now that can be mended.”

Loyalists to Loki look on, intrigued if not…confused. Normally, the Lord truly does have no mercy. Perhaps love has him blinded? They can hear what he’s saying with their enhanced hearing, after all.

Orlault appears very relieved, tears falling down his cheeks. “Oh.. oh thank you… I–”

His words are cut off by Loki aggressively locking lips with him, stabbing his tongue into his mouth and greedily exploring. One arm supports the tied elezen’s back, and the other begins tearing through his robes. Is this about to be a very tense demonstration of public affection?

…Hm…

Muffled, choked screaming begins to sound out as blood begins pouring from the side of Orlault’s lips. Oh… as it turns out, Loki had bit his tongue off. Loki lets go of the kiss right then, tongue still in his fangs, turns his head, and spits it to the side.

Cheerfully, Loki turns his eerie gaze to his followers.

He tilts his head, wearing the sweetest of smiles.

“Cannot end this without a touch of dramatic flair, can I?” He licks his lips while garbled screams still emit from a thrashing Orlault. Loki’s grin only widens. The chanting of ‘GO TO SLEEP’ sounds out behind him before he says the next part of his twisted speech, entwined with ‘counting bodies like sheep’...

Loki sings softly. “I’ll be the one to protect you from… your enemies and all your demons… I’ll be the one to protect you from… a will to survive and a voice of reason… I’ll be the one to protect you from your enemies and your choices son, they’re one and the same, I must isolate you… isolate you and save you from yourself.”

He appears to be mocking the notion, mocking his father. Wild laughter emits from him, and he adds, “DO TELL! How well did that work out for you, O Lord Zimant? Or you, my *love*, Orlault?! Oh you taste so delicious. Allow me to send you off, then. One last taste, mm?”

Just like with his father, Loki raises his clawed hand and plunges it toward the other elezen’s chest, tearing through it and ripping his heart out. He drops the still corpse and begins devouring it as his most devout in attendance let out snarls and cheers of glee.

Kneeling there in a puddle of blood, Loki gives low, growling cackles. Eventually, he stands up and takes his place behind the lectern, cracking his neck.

“Feast, my brethren. Partake in this glorious feast, this glorious ritual in honor of The Fury… Halone… the Ouro. She watches over us with the widest of grins. CLAIM YOUR DESTINY!”

Several more Elezen are slaughtered in The Ritual of True Crimson via the excited Devout of Loki. Those loyal to the former Lord Zimant who had avoided being rounded up would be hunted down and slaughtered - with a few escaping.

Much to the excitement of Lord Loki, as they could be hunted down and devoured.

Oh, what fun.

Blessed be The Cult of Ouro…

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Song Reference:

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therealdesastrffxivpast · 7 months ago

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"When I was, a young girl, my father... took me into the city. To see a marching band...."

**********

A Beautiful Disaster: The Garlean Gloom Witch.

Want to read a story involving her powers? Well you're in luck! (But she's not super happy in the story for reasons, er, you'll read, if you do...)

THANKFULLY she's since been okay and even managed to smile a bit more lately as she learns to live beyond being afraid all the time.

A Necromancer's Pain

-----------------------

Meanwhile… elsewhere….

Snapping awake, Morana gasps, holding her hand over her heart.

Something is wrong.

“No… no no no… he can’t slip away. No.”

She darts out of the bed she’s been staying in and falls to her side, letting out a soft groan. She needs to get to him, she needs to make sure he doesn’t truly die. Dragging herself up, she’s noticed there’s no medics around. No one. They must be busy elsewhere….

She would rush over to the side of Finn’s bed… he looks gaunt. This isn’t looking good. “Finn!” she gasps, feeling him slip away. She’s so low on aether. She’s so low on…everything. Taking in a deep breath, she tries. “Stay with me… stay with me…”

Tears start streaming down her cheeks as she lets out a whimper. “Please stay with me…”

Finn opens his eyes. He looks up at Morana, blinking. Then… he gives a soft smile. Morana takes him into a hug, crying on his shoulder. “I thought I lost you, I thought—”

“Hey,” Finn says in a weak voice, giving her a hug before very gently pushing her away. Something…. Is still wrong. He tilts his head, giving a soft yawn. “... Morana… I’m sorry,” he says in an exhausted tone. “I..can’t hold on anymore. But I wanted to say goodbye. Truly. Thank you for this second chance…. I love you, and all of our comrades, so dearly. Don’t forget me. Alright? Please say goodbye to everyone for m-me… Ares and Sparrow too… find Kali. She’s hurting out there.”

“NO! FINN PLEASE! NO!”

Finn reaches up and cups her cheek, yawning again. “...I’m so sorry, Morana… so sorry…”

His eyes…flicker out.

….

Morana wakes up sobbing, her entire body shuddering. This has been the worst nightmare yet, and she can barely handle it. She pulls herself out of bed, heading toward where Finn is. Claudia and Flora rush over to her, and Flora has her lean on her shoulder.

“Morana! Oh no… another one? He’s okay, he’s here still, we can feel it…” Flora whispers, then takes the crying woman into a hug.

Claudia frowns deeply, a tear trickling down her cheek. This is a rough time… possibly the worst she’s seen the necromancer.

When Morana pulls away from the hug though, she does notice Finn is very gaunt… it’s been four days and he hasn’t been able to eat. He doesn’t take in fluids or anything like normal, and what she’s doing isn’t enough.

She knows what she has to do.

And she doesn’t have much time left to hesitate.

But it’s tearing her to pieces inside….

====

Flora says in a reassuring tone to her, “We will be okay. We do not ever think differently of you because you can do this. You are saving Finn’s life…erm. Undeath. It is for a good cause. He will agree. Remember, this is Finn - he would likely ramble about the battle implications.” She tries to give a smile.

Morana can’t even force a grin. She does say, “...Yeah. He would.”

Closing her eyes… she sighs.

There’s a… chill in the room. The temperature begins climbing down, to the point where Morana can see her own breath. No one else in this room would be able to see their own breath, as theirs wouldn’t be warm. Though, if anyone were to enter right now, it would be similar to stepping outside into the calm after a blizzard. The door wouldn’t be locked or blocked. There would just be an…eerie calm about the area.

Morana begins to glow a miasma of dark blue, the color of the aether that flows through the veins of her Ashkin. After taking in another deep breath, she allows her pupils to grow and cover her entire eye. The lights flicker eerily, but remain on. Tendrils of aether reach out toward and attach to Finn like branching capillaries.

Morana utters command, her voice holding an eerie, unnatural echo to it.

"̷͌̌R̴̛͋i̸͋͂s̷̽̓e̷̡͛.̵̉̚"̵̈́

["Rise."]

Finn twitches… once. Then twice. Then again. He jolts up, his movements unnatural. When he opens his eyes, he fixes them on Morana.

They are pitch black.

Morana clenches her jaw, then glances toward Flora. She gives a nod… Flora wanders up to the freezer and pulls out a bag of…parts. She tears it open with a swift motion and places it on Finn’s lap. Severed limbs spill out on Finn’s lap. Morana’s breath hitches, and she needs to keep all of her focus on this. She usually avoids trying to watch her Ashkin eat…

The next command is uttered.

"̶̊̃C̴͈͗o̸͑̓ǹ̶͠s̴̫͠u̷͚͐m̶̋e."

["Consume."]

Finn would begin tearing into the flesh like a starved animal, gulping down chunks like he’d never eaten anything in his life. Morana keeps her eyes locked on him as he does so. She’s going to wait until he eats everything, and then will let him rest.

In a normal voice, she says to Flora… “... I am going to turn around. Please tell me when he is finished.” As if the silence from the sound of flesh tearing wouldn’t tip her off. Still, she’s not thinking straight.

Flora says, “Of course, Morana.”

The power of the Necromancer is in full view now, and the reason why so many are afraid. “This is…so wrong… so wrong…” Morana whispers to herself over and over. She feels her heart shattering into a thousand pieces because she had to take control. She could do so easily, turn these people she brought back into true minions, souls trapped in bodies they couldn’t hope to ever control again, watching as they did the unspeakable….

It was all. So. wrong.

She stared at her hands, shaking like a leaf. She’d never done this before to her people, those who had their souls and weren’t just puppeted corpses of the long departed. The capability of great horrors and harm were at her fingertips, but it was never a thought that crossed her mind.

Finn wasn’t there right now. He was still entirely unconscious. Yet… he consumes.

Morana covers her face with her hands.

Irimi listened to her, her own heart dropping hearing the pain in the Necromancer's voice.

"Morana. I know you don't see it right now, but you're doing the right thing. You really really are."

The amount of sorrow in Morana's voice was evident she didn't want to do this- Irimi could tell. But Irimi then looked to Flora nodding but then asked the same question to Morana, "May I approach you?"

Morana continues to stare at Irimi. "...They need to have their wills... I brought them back because of their screams... I c-could hear them... but not like... normal hearing..." She's babbling a bit now but can't help it. "...They deserved a second chance... but need full control of themselves. I am failing him... This is so wrong... s-so wrong..." It's almost like she ...misses Irimi's question.

There's a five second pause. Then, a whispered, "...yes."

Flora, meanwhile, walks forward cautiously, as to not disturb Irimi. She would watch this exchange carefully, not wanting to interrupt, but wanting to be there to explain and answer questions further before someone made the wrong assumptions about what Morana was doing.

Irimi would say nothing to Morana and walk carefully towards her.

Without warning Irimi would kneel down in front of her and take her into a hug.

Morana doesn't do anything for a few seconds, but slowly attempts to hug Irimi back. If she can, she'd bury her face into her shoulder and begin sobbing. The sound of chewing flesh comes to a slow, however.

Flora says gently, "He's done, Morana."

Finn's pitch black gaze would be fixed on Morana as he waits for another command. He looks a lot better now. His cheeks don't seem pulled too close to the bone. His muscle mass has returned, and a few wounds have mended better than before. It's clear he is far, far better off now. But he can't rest yet.

Not without Morana's help.

Morana sniffles, lifting her chin to rest on Irmi's shoulder before uttering one last command. "Rest." Her echoing, commanding tone is tinged with sadness.

The room is still cold, but may slowly begin to grow warmer again. The aether visible aether link melts away, and Morana radiates exhaustion.

Finn's eyes....flicker on as he lays back down. This has actually woken him up. (15) Though he'll still need to actually sleep (as he's indeed not just an animated corpse and (allegedly) uses his brain), he does murmur, "... ... ... Did I get drunk and go after some of Rook's mercenaries or something...."

Irimi would hold Morana tightly, hugging her and not letting go until Morana would pull away.

The word Morana spoke felt... powerful. And much to Irimi's surprise she would hear Finn speak- relieved? To hear him? Irimi sighed relief. "You did great Morana." She whispered to the Necromancer.

Morana is still crying, possibly not hearing Finn at all. She can hear Irimi, as the woman is right there. "...I don't think I did... h-he... had to obey me.. he..."

Finn blinks, then looks over to Claudia. "...Did she use her powers or something?" He can clearly hear Morana now. He looks down at his meal. "Huh. Was I being uncooperative? I-in that frenzy again?!" he gasps, now widening his eyes in alarm.

"No, no, it's alright. You took a hit and died three times... and she needed to command you to eat. You were completely comatosed," Claudia murmurs.

"Oh..." he mutters. "How interesting," he says with a grin. "...The implications in a war situation are--" he cuts himself off, giving Claudia an apologetic stare when she facepalms. He then focuses on a sobbing Morana and Irimi hugging her close. And then looks down at the bones on his lap. ".... I am too tired to clean this up, damn it..." He would casually try to pull the blanket over said bones to be less alarming. Three cheers for the bloody golden retriever! He's trying to be helpful!

"Hey, Morana? Are you alright?" Finn asks. He looks toward Irimi. "Are you alright?!" The last he remembered of her was, well... right before Genji woke up. He has no idea what's going on and appears hopelessly confused. He's shirtless and hooked up to all sorts of things right now that don't do much to help monitor him, but are worth a shot. At least the aetheric-activity tracker is working on him.

OOC: A picture of Finn, one of her Ashkin she ressurected (again...)

Trebol_queen is the one who did this commission for me of Finn :)

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