Post by Gabriel Seran on Mar 12, 2009 23:14:39 GMT -5
Broken bones nothing, scraped knees you get back up, nothing was to hinder performance, you stood above all the rest and rose like a true champion, stared fear in the face and became the person others would look to. That was what he was taught in the torture facilities, Gabriel reminisced as he ran his fingers over the scars on his back. They were all hypocrites they knew nothing of living by the blade, working and toiling at the hand of someone else. Gabriel could remember that much how their whips at his back and the splitting of his skin, the warm splash of blood against his flesh.
He could remember just about every word they called him, Vrykolakas, many other phrases in their language of old. He spit fury back at them showing them the rage of the Saracen within him. His fury would be their demise. Burning them was the greatest pleasure he’d felt since sex.
He cracked his knuckles from atop his perch, a park atop the mountain overlooking the grand city, just another place, just another one indeed. It would burn like the rest and from it be rebuilt far greater than ever before. Peace….but first blood, and ashes….lots of blood.
He could remember just about every word they called him, Vrykolakas, many other phrases in their language of old. He spit fury back at them showing them the rage of the Saracen within him. His fury would be their demise. Burning them was the greatest pleasure he’d felt since sex.
He cracked his knuckles from atop his perch, a park atop the mountain overlooking the grand city, just another place, just another one indeed. It would burn like the rest and from it be rebuilt far greater than ever before. Peace….but first blood, and ashes….lots of blood.
