Turmoil Of Silisk

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Turmoil Of Silisk

Post by Silisk on Sun Apr 12, 2015 9:52 pm

Dawn was but a subtle whisper within the area. Unlike most kingdoms, all was silent this morning. Death stung the land and tainted it with each touch. First to go was the prey animals, fleeing quickly as the taint seeped in. The predators stayed longer, but only to feed off the plentiful volley of corpses that littered the cobble stone streets. They left after all the bones had been picked clean, and the Kingdom became void of all life, but the whisper from the plants that had began to thrive. Silisk strolled from the side room, where the royal bedroom and bathroom were located. The bed hadn't been used in years, cob webs and dust crusted the blanket and pillows. He had only bothered with the bathroom, strolling out of it after his shower.  His hair and skin were still moist, droplets of water rolling down his sun-kissed flesh, following the curve of each perfectly sculpted muscle before being absorbed by the fabric of his jeans. A towel hung loosely at his shoulders, hanging down over his pectoral muscles,  one side even colored the pulsing shimmer of his Onyx, crystalline heart. His boots thundered against the stone floor as he made his way to the throne. After grasping the back of the throne he flicked of his wrist and swung it around to face the window before seating himself comfortably on it's cushion. He leaned to the side of the throne, resting his elbow on the arm of the chair, and pressing his cheek against his knuckles as he stared out into the empty kingdom. Slaughtering beings until his person and clothes were soaked in their blood...No longer accomplished anything for him. Three times nomads had attempted to settle this kingdom, and all three times he swept through like a plague until ditches ran red with their blood. Even now, since the animals were gone, the corpses still rotted in his streets, bones practically covered the stone streets completely... Yet, it interested him none. Even his rage, his thirst for revenge. It was all dulled. He had become a husk, merely spending his days staring out this window  until he eventually forced himself to shower and clean his body. His white eyes lost their glimmer, his lips no longer flushed and his cheeks began to pale. Perhaps it was because his strength was unparalleled? Perhaps it was because his hands were some what tied? If he upset the balance here, the system would topple and he would once again be forced to insert himself into the next.  It all seemed now, like a hassle.  Instead, he willingly blanked his mind and just stared out the window. A meditation of sorts, something like a hibernation while being held some consciousness. It was as if he waited for something. As if something called for him after all these centuries of turmoil.


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