][Fourth Sacrament][ ][Cradel of Sheol][
Cradel of Forest - Silent Hill 4
They’ve come to witness the beginning..
There deep, deep in the forest night where one would turn their gaze and expect to see the creatures of the evening star stirring. One is rather alarmed to see, children dancing the waltz amongst the ghostly blue glimmers that weave in and out of the tree-top. They laugh whispering hand in hand, just like children like to do. Their eyes, alight with joy, and one comes to wonder, just what are they're looking for. Giggles echo as a blue dress flutters to the strum of a strange song whispered across the orient. Their song starts to make some sense, only if one was listening at all..
And soon one sees, they're dancing. Dancing like the butterflies, with the butterflies. Their shadows appear right before the eyes. Colors of blue of every hue flash from their wingtips, whilst children leap to catch them in their small hands, and a man stands among them, playing a three-stringed shamisen. The harping sounds echo what might be the absurd, whilst hard to explain one might think, that is what they hear.
"They're like fireflies! Are they your friends?" A young girl turns to chirp to the man, who only smiles in a gentle manner.
His presence is as haunting as the phantom creatures themselves, yet no malice did he hide behind such warm eyes that flicker under a pair of spectacles, "They are the spirits of my people." He chimes, plucking his thumb along the stringed instrument, "If you dance with them, it makes them very happy."
"Like g-g-ghosts?" Eyes wide, one would see the shock stir on their brows.
"Maa.. Don't be so timid. There are good spirits and bad. These are my close friends. So they cannot be bad, right? If you're scared you can go home." Even in what seems as harshness, one can not fault the cordialness in his tone.
There the children relax, priding themselves on their own bravery, "I bet I can catch more that you can!" And he too sighs, content in his love of entertainment, even to the youngest of audiences.
Even to an audience he does not plan for. For now as the starlight recedes silently, and unbenotice to the youth, the world around them is plunging into a darkness the likes they'd not dream. Now, one hears the forest talking, insects and birds. Creatures of cloven foot, and horned monstrosities not meant for this world. Murmuring of a malevolent force which comes this way. The scent of soils turns noxious and beasts breathe in death, even those who do hide.
One would pray this is a great illusion, yet one never knows. The moment one thinks they're really alone. They feel the soulless eyes of someone looking in on them.
And so and again, they see how the children play, while a red moon colors the trees. Their feet, innocent rustling sounds, through playful dreamlike fantasies. As the world around them sinks further into nightmare. Trees and plants of all sorts all kinds wilt away. The earth crumbles under tendrils of hundreds of thousands of parting snaking crevices. Whilst from out of their midst beetles rise up in swarms, cloaking the forest floor in a blanket of death and destruction, sparking bright embers in their wake.
Still the children are dancing, dancing like the butterflies, till a shadow appears looming right before the eyes. Shrieks echo the absurd, and one is mortified to explain that something that they hear.
The rebirth of paradise despoiled by mankind…
Dreadful sirens.
Howling.
Blaring a warning to touch the ears of all who dare to sleep through it’s panicked cry. Ravens in murders cast their feathers out from the canopies and fly in a frenzy to the blackening heavens above. They too come to screech, yet not in fear, but in pain, as the sky rips loose a poison of rain. Acid in it’s touch, the winged creatures fall dead across the city streets. And steam rises from the cobblestone and just as an infection, the city’s own flesh is slowly eaten away.
And from the bowels of the earth it comes again, one senses it, hears it, a slithering, crackle of flame. Fires seep through the streets, spread like the disease from the forest’s edges, steel melts away, stone splits and the walls themselves begin to bleed as human flesh. Here this night, Vertere falls into the cradle of Sheol for the very last time.
And they shalt remember me and thy true self as well…
One listens and seeks to deafen themselves. For the breath of the Crimson One brushes their ears. And there one looks out and sees. The beasts of the land, rushing into the city, yelping and screaming as burns coat their bodies. And there, a large one, with twisted horns and an axe upon it's tail, flails about madly, it’s mane of blood-slathered blonde caught aflame as it frantically bounds for shelter by any means.
Tis also that which thou must become…
And yet the fires are relentless. Is it as if they were alive. Commanded by the demon who summoned them forth. There they lash through the city at rapid pace, consuming all before them with mouths like dragons, unchained from the lake of fire.
Fear not the hand of creation…
The beast of burden finds itself cornered before the cathedral of Metatron, it’s once pearl-like steps, now slopped with rivers of red life. It’s eyes, wild and searching for escape, it bristles upon the sight of those living tendrils of flame, careening for it.
For I bring it’s rich blessings…
Yet they halt. Sudden and alarming at the holy steps, only to rear up in a curtain of embers that drip away to reveal a steely obelisk. The warden. The watcher. In agony he slaves to the hand of creation. He who exists to hunt down sin in it’s purest form. The fires burn away and form his bare naked flesh from the ash. A hulking figure, cloaked in the flesh of the damned, he grasps towards the air as the billowing flames blow across his strong hold and forge forth his tool of redemption. The great knife that brought with it blood stained eternally from the bodies of infinites sinners.
Come, o sinful ones, bow your head in genuflect…
And there, a blinding flash of lightning, scarlet veins across the heavens, shrouded all before it. With all to be left to see as the rain washes the blood away, is the mere silhouette of their harbinger, in mid-swing of his blessed weapon, burned forever to the backs of their eyelids.
And hearken to me. The one who will lead us to paradise with blood-stained hands...... . . .
[OOC--- Lyrics based on Cradel of Forest from Silent Hill 4. This nightmare here is given to you all as an invitation. To step unto the streets. And face him. He is willing to punish those longing to be punished. If you are one of those willing. To risk your character’s life. Then IM me at Vincent Hojo. Or feel free to reply to this thread in an RP fashion. Avatar's too are free to witness. Take note Pyramid Head will be entering your nightmares till the end of this week. In attempt to dare you to sin. To torment you with visions of his coming blessing. Till your will is weak and you rush out into the street to meet the reaper. Please forgive me. As I may not be available for a couple more hours as I rest. Late night maiming. Can take a lot of out someone. Forgive the copy-pasta.]