Dark Seduction RPG

[piosenniel]

Durelin's Post:

The Priestess, Sevora, walked swiftly through the dimly lit corridor. She wore long robes of a sickly dark red, the color of dried blood, and of a black as in the deep dark of an endless abyss. They swayed without a sound. Around her head was a band made of a black wiry metal made to look like a strip of thorns. The tips of the spikes were the same blood red as her robes. At the end of the dark hallway was a large door of black iron leading into what was known as The Hall of the Black Sage. The corridor was meant to represent the long dark path of a life of a priest or priestess of the Dark Religion. At the end stood the gate to "wisdom". The door reminded them of the reward, for reward they saw it as. A sick, twisted state of mind where good and evil stood not. There stood only power, in their eyes, but blood and dark to the eyes of the sane. Their "wisdom" results in an everlasting death. Those large black iron doors did lead to that "wisdom," or the greatest example of the grotesque state of mind: the High Priest of the Dark Citadel.

Sevora reached the "gateway" and heaved the doors open, sending a loud, vibrating clang of iron striking iron around the hall, as they hit the black walls of The Hall of the Black Sage. At the harsh sound, the priestess smirked, a small curl of her lip. Her presence deserved to be announced, in one way or another. She stepped up to a small set of stairs leading up to a miniature stage covered by a putrid off-white color curtain, much like the pale skin of a corpse. On either side were large black chairs with the same thorny effect as Sevora’s headband, also with the bloodied tips. In them sat two old men of the Haradrim in robes the same color as the curtain. They were the councilors of the High Priest.

"Ah," came an oily voice from behind the curtain, "Sevora, one of the most beloved of The Priesthood of the Eye. I am glad you have answered my calling so promptly. I have important work for you." The voice had an uncanny hiss to it, behind all of the oil. It had the habit of making the listener feel that he or she is covered in muck, a nastiness that they needed to wipe off. But the priestess had heard this voice all too often. She was a loyal and valuable servant to her Lord of Darkness, her "God". Her reckless and blood - thirsty nature had brought her high in the order of the Eye, and she was overwhelmingly proud of that. No, yet again, she was called to serve the Eye, for she was eternally anxious to.

"Thank you, O Wisest one to the Eye," Sevora began a cold voice that seemed on the verge of screaming in rage, and bowing low to the ground, "for counting me, as a lowly servant, worthy of being in your presence. And furthermore, in giving me the privilege to serve our Dark Lord in a stronger way than my daily worships. I will not fail the Eye or the Priesthood. Death first, shall I taste." That was one of the greatest teachings of the twisted priests, "Coldness of death before burning shame of failure." Sevora had always had a way with words, buttering up those fat with groveling servants and riches. How else would she have gotten this far? The High Priest had because of his blood. He was a Dark Numenorean, one of the ruling class of Harad.

"I know of your unceasing loyalty, that is why I have chosen you for this," the oily voice hissed. But now the source of it was revealed. The pale curtain lifted to show a man with skin as pale as the curtain, if not paler. The skin on his face was tightly fitted over his bones, so that his bald resembled a skull. He was dressed in robes of black with a large collar ticking up behind his skull-like head. The collar also followed the thorny style, with large spikes rising above the "skull," tips of a bloody red. The red opal on the man's forehead completed the grotesque appearance with its innumerable shades of color swirling about like fire. This was the High Priest of the Dark Citadel. The "wisest" and most powerful of The Priesthood of the Eye.

"As you are well aware," the High Priest continued, "The War is beginning that we have long awaited, greatly desired," his eyes flashed with a lust for the war that would bring him so much power. "The Eye needs followers to fulfill his destiny to rule all. There are nomadic tribes in the outlands, ones your people, the Haradrim have long met to trade with. Now we will bring them the one true faith. They will serve for our purposes, but…" he paused for a moment with hungry eyes staring at something in his own mind, as if he were looking upon his next words. "But, you will meet some resistance, of that I am sure. The tribesmen are a stubborn race of barbarians, though most can be seduced. Of course, as our Priestess of the Sacrifice…you should manage admirably." The High Priest stopped and looked at Layla-Abida. Her eyes were filled with excitement. He smiled, a small cruel smile, at her hunger to deal out death. She returned his smile with one of immense cruelty and lust for bloodshed.

"You will need an escort," the "wisest" went on, bringing the priestess back to the present. "I have already sent a notice around the city. We cannot spare any of our guards here." He frowned at this, and his skin stretched downward making his eyes seem to bug out of his head. "You should also chose two of our priests to accompany you. Make sure they are of the understanding, and, hopefully, are of the warriors." The High Priest's eyes moved to Sevora once again, this time with a commanding look, as she replied coldly, "Yes, O Wisest of the Dark."

"Good," he said firmly, "You are dismissed, you must begin preparations at once."


"Yes, O Greatest Servant to the Eye," she answered with a different praising title for the High Priest. She bowed low, then turned sharply and walked swiftly and silently out of the great hall, back into the dim corridor. At last! she thought, I will get to ardently serve The Eye. I will bring Him men to serve Him, and slaughter those who refuse the Dark Lord. It will feel good to take blood from filthy infidels once again! Gliding down the dark hallway The Red Flame giggled like a little girl at the thought.