Post by Luthor on Aug 25, 2006 12:12:38 GMT -5
*Luthor shifted from paw to paw as he stood on the surface of Galderenoth. His emerald green eyes stared outward into the deep darkness of the planet, virtually wrapped forevermore in a proverbial black cloak. The wildcat was dressed Lordly: he wore a black cloak that whipped in the wind, hooding one half of his face and adding a facade of mystery that he reveled in. A golden amulet was dangling from his neck, hanging by a thick chain. Embossed on the front of the medallion was the profiled head of a wildcat, etched in masterfully so that whoever saw it could almost imagine the carved teeth sinking into their flesh. His cloak was bordered by silken gold thread that also continued up to the fringes of his hood. The wildcats claws were also a sight to behold: over the normal claws were a sheath of metal claws, sharpened and glinting dangerously in what little light was on the planet. Behind their Lord were about fourscore or so hooded and cloaked beasts, their heads bowed as they walked in a silent procession. They weren't called "The Black Souls" for nothing: they blended in almost perfectly with the perpetual blackness surrounding them, their movements slow, fluid, and precise, ready to strike at a moments' notice. A thin wispy figure suddenly appeared beside his Lord. A wry smile played across Luthor's features, and he greeted his companion without turning to him.*
So... do you have anything to report, Andru? *His deep, bass voice rumbled like thunder as he spoke to the beast. Andru, a lithe squirrel, also replied in the same manner, not making eye contact with his wildcat master. In contrast to Luthor's, Andru's voice was slick like oil.* We have been travelling far, my liege. I think 'twould be wissse to sssstop sssssssoon. The troopss are tired and weary, Lord. *He gave a gasp of suprise as Luthor picked him up with one paw, grabbing him by the scruff of his cloak and jerking him upward in one quick movemet, pressing the squirrel's face so close to his that Andru could feel the wildcat's breath on his face, making his neckfur prickle with apprehension. Luthor's words were slow and dripping menace.* Tell me, Andru, who commands this horde? The troops, or me, their rightful Lord? *Andru averted his gaze swiftly away and replied in as cool a manner as he could possibly muster in his awkward situation.* You, sssssire. The troopsss do not command the horde, you do. *Beneath his half-shaded face, Luthor smiled wickedly, and dropped the squirrel. He fell to the ground in an ungainly heap, then swiftly picked himself up and receded into the shadowy ranks of his comrades.
They continued their slow, steady march, Andru relaying the conversation he shared between him and Luthor to his companions. Some of the older members of the army, and the ones who had the most experience with the wrathful wildcat, scorned Andru. The greener of the troops were sympathetic towards the squirrel, some of them shivering beneath the cloaks of blackness. None of them wanted to confront Luthor, but it was inevitable: all of them would have to do it one day in their lives. Luthor was well aware of their mutterings of woe. And frankly, he didn't give a heck about if mutinous feelings were arising. All he had to do was instill some fear in them, and all of those feelings were quickly disspelled within moments. He ran one silver-coated claw across his golden amulet and clutched it to him for a moment. It always seemed to give him power; but that was all in his head, and he knew it deep down, but obviously didn't care. The wildcat Lord opened his great maw, bristling with sharpened teeth, and let loose a bloodcurdling howl that immediately stopped everyone of the Black Souls in their tracks. A few of them exchanged glances: they knew what was to happen now. A lone fox dissaparated from the main crowd and appeared at his liege's side, a pole with a flag whipping from it held reverently in both black-dyed paws. Luthor snatched it from the fox. The fox bowed and smartly melted back into the troops of hooded soldiers as the wildcat struck the flag and pole into the ground beneath his paws. He turned toward the beasts under his command and raised one clawed paw as he spoke, his voice a deep roar that rumbled in his cavernous chest.*
I hereby claim this planet, Galderenoth, for the great army of The Black Souls!
So... do you have anything to report, Andru? *His deep, bass voice rumbled like thunder as he spoke to the beast. Andru, a lithe squirrel, also replied in the same manner, not making eye contact with his wildcat master. In contrast to Luthor's, Andru's voice was slick like oil.* We have been travelling far, my liege. I think 'twould be wissse to sssstop sssssssoon. The troopss are tired and weary, Lord. *He gave a gasp of suprise as Luthor picked him up with one paw, grabbing him by the scruff of his cloak and jerking him upward in one quick movemet, pressing the squirrel's face so close to his that Andru could feel the wildcat's breath on his face, making his neckfur prickle with apprehension. Luthor's words were slow and dripping menace.* Tell me, Andru, who commands this horde? The troops, or me, their rightful Lord? *Andru averted his gaze swiftly away and replied in as cool a manner as he could possibly muster in his awkward situation.* You, sssssire. The troopsss do not command the horde, you do. *Beneath his half-shaded face, Luthor smiled wickedly, and dropped the squirrel. He fell to the ground in an ungainly heap, then swiftly picked himself up and receded into the shadowy ranks of his comrades.
They continued their slow, steady march, Andru relaying the conversation he shared between him and Luthor to his companions. Some of the older members of the army, and the ones who had the most experience with the wrathful wildcat, scorned Andru. The greener of the troops were sympathetic towards the squirrel, some of them shivering beneath the cloaks of blackness. None of them wanted to confront Luthor, but it was inevitable: all of them would have to do it one day in their lives. Luthor was well aware of their mutterings of woe. And frankly, he didn't give a heck about if mutinous feelings were arising. All he had to do was instill some fear in them, and all of those feelings were quickly disspelled within moments. He ran one silver-coated claw across his golden amulet and clutched it to him for a moment. It always seemed to give him power; but that was all in his head, and he knew it deep down, but obviously didn't care. The wildcat Lord opened his great maw, bristling with sharpened teeth, and let loose a bloodcurdling howl that immediately stopped everyone of the Black Souls in their tracks. A few of them exchanged glances: they knew what was to happen now. A lone fox dissaparated from the main crowd and appeared at his liege's side, a pole with a flag whipping from it held reverently in both black-dyed paws. Luthor snatched it from the fox. The fox bowed and smartly melted back into the troops of hooded soldiers as the wildcat struck the flag and pole into the ground beneath his paws. He turned toward the beasts under his command and raised one clawed paw as he spoke, his voice a deep roar that rumbled in his cavernous chest.*
I hereby claim this planet, Galderenoth, for the great army of The Black Souls!