03-30-2006, 01:21 AM
(This book is about the torture pits of falasmaryon. It is told by a former ordinator, who was interigatted by the 6th house.)
The Dark City
Originally penned by Gellus Indoril, former ordinator, proclaimed heretic. Publishing and Forward by Derratle Horunt.
FOREWARD- To readers. Note that this book was orriginally written by Gellus Indoril, who was a former ordinator. He was also claimed to be a heretic. He was found almost 97 years ago, near Ghost Gate, delerious. He was immediately indetified, and was taken to the temple, where for 3 years he would scream during nights, and thrash in his sleep. It was not until he wrote The dark city he was proclaimed a heretic by the tribunal. Some 3 hours after it was written, he killed himself. Now that the temple holds considerably less power, I bleieve it is my duty to publish this poor mans story, so we may all the know the horrors he had to endure. Also note that this story is very disturbing, read at your own risk.
What can I say of Falasmaryon? The cursed city of the sixth house? It is the embodiment of anarchy and terror. It is fear hatred and desperation Incarnate. How long I was enslaved in that timeless city, I cannot say. There is no sun, no day, no light, just an itternal darkness, broken only by the red glow of the ash statues. The air is filled with screams and laughter. When they cut out my eyes, my ears alone still conveyed that ominipresent aura of dread and loathing. They took great delight in telling us about the tortures and agonies they preparred, useing terrible means of anticipation to increase our suffering. When they wished to speak, which was almost never, they spoke in dull monotone voices, absent of emotions. Most of my fellow slaves fell before the cruely barbed blades of house dagoth, dieing not from the wounds, but the cruel festering poisins that coated them. They continuosly questioned us, not seeking awnsers, for in that terrible pain, I could not speak. they tortured us not for information, but for the sheer enjoyment of our agony.
No one dies quickly in the Dark City.
They prey amoung eachother as much as there prisoners. The Dagoths may hold power, but in the winding corridors of the Dark City, allegiance is second to martial prowess. To stray into the wrong territory is tantamount to suicide, conflicts occur everyday, blood is spilt constantly. The 6th house may be organized in a sense, but they kill eachother all the same. We were never truly imprisoned in our cells, but it was clear that if we left, we would be at the mercy of Falasmaryon, a barrier more powerfull then any wall, keep, or fortress.
They made no attempt to hide there ways, glorifying in treatchery and betrayel. Assassination, murder, and upheavle was common, as different Dagoths vie for power. Ownership of myself changed so many times I was unsure who were my masters and who were his enimies. Sometimes I was stolen, sometimes I was traded for ash statues, given as a gift, or simply taken as a right of conquest.
Life is worthless in the Dark city, as is any information I could have given them, I was merely a toy to them. Life is worthless, only death, misery, and pain have value.Others among them, humans I saw who did dealings with them. They worshipped the dagoths as gods, smuggled ash statues, and even acted as enforcers for the 6th house, in exchange for favors.
My escape was miraculous, the tribunal must have rewarded me for my undying faith in thoes times. However, although I am phsically free, my body bears the scars, the many, many scars. Every breath takes me to a new plane of agony, every heartbeat sends my nerves writhing in pain. I cannot see. I cannot speak. Most horrid of all, I cannot forget. Nightmares plauge me, the drips of blood, the cries of anguish haunt me.
No one escapes the Dark City.
THE END.
The Dark City
Originally penned by Gellus Indoril, former ordinator, proclaimed heretic. Publishing and Forward by Derratle Horunt.
FOREWARD- To readers. Note that this book was orriginally written by Gellus Indoril, who was a former ordinator. He was also claimed to be a heretic. He was found almost 97 years ago, near Ghost Gate, delerious. He was immediately indetified, and was taken to the temple, where for 3 years he would scream during nights, and thrash in his sleep. It was not until he wrote The dark city he was proclaimed a heretic by the tribunal. Some 3 hours after it was written, he killed himself. Now that the temple holds considerably less power, I bleieve it is my duty to publish this poor mans story, so we may all the know the horrors he had to endure. Also note that this story is very disturbing, read at your own risk.
What can I say of Falasmaryon? The cursed city of the sixth house? It is the embodiment of anarchy and terror. It is fear hatred and desperation Incarnate. How long I was enslaved in that timeless city, I cannot say. There is no sun, no day, no light, just an itternal darkness, broken only by the red glow of the ash statues. The air is filled with screams and laughter. When they cut out my eyes, my ears alone still conveyed that ominipresent aura of dread and loathing. They took great delight in telling us about the tortures and agonies they preparred, useing terrible means of anticipation to increase our suffering. When they wished to speak, which was almost never, they spoke in dull monotone voices, absent of emotions. Most of my fellow slaves fell before the cruely barbed blades of house dagoth, dieing not from the wounds, but the cruel festering poisins that coated them. They continuosly questioned us, not seeking awnsers, for in that terrible pain, I could not speak. they tortured us not for information, but for the sheer enjoyment of our agony.
No one dies quickly in the Dark City.
They prey amoung eachother as much as there prisoners. The Dagoths may hold power, but in the winding corridors of the Dark City, allegiance is second to martial prowess. To stray into the wrong territory is tantamount to suicide, conflicts occur everyday, blood is spilt constantly. The 6th house may be organized in a sense, but they kill eachother all the same. We were never truly imprisoned in our cells, but it was clear that if we left, we would be at the mercy of Falasmaryon, a barrier more powerfull then any wall, keep, or fortress.
They made no attempt to hide there ways, glorifying in treatchery and betrayel. Assassination, murder, and upheavle was common, as different Dagoths vie for power. Ownership of myself changed so many times I was unsure who were my masters and who were his enimies. Sometimes I was stolen, sometimes I was traded for ash statues, given as a gift, or simply taken as a right of conquest.
Life is worthless in the Dark city, as is any information I could have given them, I was merely a toy to them. Life is worthless, only death, misery, and pain have value.Others among them, humans I saw who did dealings with them. They worshipped the dagoths as gods, smuggled ash statues, and even acted as enforcers for the 6th house, in exchange for favors.
My escape was miraculous, the tribunal must have rewarded me for my undying faith in thoes times. However, although I am phsically free, my body bears the scars, the many, many scars. Every breath takes me to a new plane of agony, every heartbeat sends my nerves writhing in pain. I cannot see. I cannot speak. Most horrid of all, I cannot forget. Nightmares plauge me, the drips of blood, the cries of anguish haunt me.
No one escapes the Dark City.
THE END.