The Incident

by Astaroth on Wed Aug 11, 2010 4:58 am

A spider web contains unreal strengths, as well as a firm center that governs the weight of the both the prey, and the host. When a creature is caught, it simply cannot escape. It serves in an exchange of its life, a long and painful process. As for the spider, it lives a life more promising than the light, easy and laid back. A false and illusory existence...

Demons generally will stick together to fight, looking for power and encouragement of his companion, like moths, attracted by the bright lights comes in vain against a bug zapper. The home of Astaroth is comparable to that bug zapper, as terror and malice greets any unwelcome visitations.

A shadowy figure moved rather quickly in the hallway of a thought to have been empty manor. A silhouette, the darkened oak flooring brushed by a dark wing of citrine. A few drops of black water washed up on upon the wood, creaking slightly under the sound of boots dragging. Behind the leather, which crunched under the feet of the traveler, dragged two large feathers. The wings are completely relaxed, as if broken and just slid upon the ground to the more darkly stained in the moistening.

Outside it was pouring.

The night had filed a veil of darkness over the abandoned woods, with no stars or moon to illuminate the path of the traveler. The figure was completely exhausted.
The darkness filled his mind. 'How is it so dark in the hallway?' The issue called out and he stopped his footsteps. Slowly, the figure stood up from the crude wooden chair, and looked away. He observed his surroundings, as if this could bring back his memories. Nothing came to his mind. He did not remember.

Returning to his slow gait, like a lost soul, he eventually managed to support one of his palms against the wall of the corridor to stop his advance. His eyes slightly opened and fixed upon the ground between his long hair, which was weighed down by the weight of the water flowing over his body. The heavy silence of the situation filled his mind with fresh thoughts, none providing memory.

The demon congealed again and searched through his memory. He closed his eyes in a more lively movement, frowning ... He remembers a few events, but not what he needed to know. Perhaps it would come later.
He continued walking his painful walk, removing his hand from the wall to move more independently. This corridor seemed endless and his legs could no longer hold his energy. Finally reaching the entrance hall, he keeled to a dark velvet armchair. His body rested on it half-sitting, arms crossed on his face, he soon fell into another unconsciousness state, before muttering the word "Aion".

The spirit of the devil wandered, though he was plunged into a kind of unconsciousness due to fatigue that built on his shoulders and throughout his whole body, due to a loss in combat. Slouched in front of a lounge chair, breathing slowly and does not intend an arrival at his side. The voice that reaches him was distant and blurred by his ears, as if his mind was closed to the outside world. His eyes ajar with difficulty, trying to see the creature in front of him, but he did not have the strength.

Rows of images filled in his mind, most of them flashbacks. He saw the darkness and the blinding light of his Creator which burns the retina. A muffled sound reasoning in his ears.
Another flash, accompanied by a shrill sound and continuous. He saw a silhouette extended ground in a desert. feathers as black as the night emerged from his back. The zoom flashed hard on the body. The wings he believed to be his are actually those of a demon vulture, a man of sorts lying down... Yet he cannot not see his face.

Astaroth lost the flashback, and suddenly woke up. He stood slowly, feeling rejuvenated, and prepared. He stumbled slightly at first, and then walked with perfect posture. He was recovering more by each passing second, and by the time he reached the outside of his manor, he had recovered enough to fly. Two thick, red wings shot out of his back, each spreading around seven feet, and Astaroth looked into the sky. There were no stars outside, just the moon, surrounded by a deep coat of darkness. Astaroth took flight in this weather, and arrived some time later at a horse race. Astaroth was feeling hungry, and horse flesh was preferred over that of a human, as humans were weak, whereas horses have a massive reservoir of strength, which was preferred by all demons. Astaroth retracted his wings, and took a seat, scanning all of the horses, and betting many precious stones on the one he was planning on eating.