17Finally after a long hiatus, it's back, better than ever.
Crimson Rainfall
Written by: S'cyre Lecareixz
I: Invocation of Blood The winds moaned as they blew, it was an eerie sound and the breeze felt ominous… A sign of starting terror… The Red Lord looked down upon a huge pattern on the dark earth, it glowed a bright royal blue. He stood motionlessly, thinking. Then he decided: It was time. He turned around; his fine silver hair followed his movement, and signaled to the two demonic figures standing behind him. They would have looked human, save for their black wings that seem to tower over them and their blank amber slit eyes, black on those where there should be white. They noticed him and inclined their heads forward as to nod slightly and walked up to the master, dragging someone along with them before throwing him roughly into the center of the pattern. The someone tried to stand up, shakily, as he was beaten and bloody with two gaping wounds on his back where his own set of black wings was once were, lifting his head to glare at his master only to meet the hint madness in his incarnadine-hued eyes. The master kicked him, smirking as watched his servant double to the ground, with his hand covering his mouth as he vomited blood and the other clutching his stomach in pain. The master smirked at stepped into the pattern, holding a bottle of shimmering black liquid. The servant ceased to vomit blood and feared the worst as he felt the master come towards him and kick him . He glared at the master with his black onyx colored eyes, but said nothing, lest blood began to gush from his mouth once more. He watched as the master pour the liquid on him and step back. He felt it sear his skin, burning it. He bit his lip, to the point that it would bleed, desperate not to scream in agony. As the pain began to spread and devour him, he struggled to move, and couldn't, he was already paralyzed, inside his mind he was begging for the pain to stop. He could sense his life draining away as he frantically tried to open his eyes despite the pain. But when he succeeded all he could see were blurs, slowly fading into black… He closed them and waited as silently as he could, embracing his own death… and he was no more. The master watched motionlessly as a thin blanket of mist began to surround the pattern and produced a knife from his sleeve, he gashed his palm with it and let blood drop into the pattern and it turned to a hue of bright blood red. It was done.