Max didn't say a word as he was being yelled at, and thrown against a wall, and even slightly scratched. He blinked when asked the last question. "I have no idea what the hell I am doing in your house, I'm sorry to say." Max smiled. "Of course, I knew the consequences of coming here, so I don't have any excuse to get me out." The rock in his pocket was forgotten, no ideas or attempts to escape crossed his mind. He supposed he deserved this, this was someone's house, after all. "I am from that school, incidentally.."
It had been quite a pleasant evening, if rather typical for the Salamandra family. Quite fortunate, both for the Salamandrae and for the intruders, that the family noticed nothing of their presence while supping together. Thus, the intruders escaped, for the most part, unharmed while the family they were robbing got to enjoy a pleasant meal together uninterrupted.
Retiring to his study, he adorned himself in his reading glasses and promptly fell to reading where he had left of in his book, A Tale of Two Cities. If he gave an ear to his surroundings, he could hear his wife in their baby's room, the rest of the children peacefully in their own rooms. Later he might be correcting their homework; their own schooling something he prided in providing himself.
When his wife was finished with their youngest child, he heard her creaking footsteps begin to head off elsewhere into the house, at which point he once more became entranced by the book in front of him, a fire crackling merrily in it's hearth a short distance away.
It was only a short time later that a shriek pierced his solitude, causing him to nearly drop the book as he recognized the voice as that of his own beloved wife. Scrambling from his chair, he swiftly grabbed his cane. It was a sturdy wooden cane, the metal handle at the top of which was adorned with an intricate little carving in the shape of a salamander.
The tiny twin rubies that were it's eyes glinted in the light of the fire by his chair as he wept from the room. With a few sharp reprimands at the few of his children who seemed to be edging from their rooms to see what all the excitement was about, he headed for the second, smaller kitchen where he heard the voice of his wife.
"My dear, is there something amiss?" he questioned hurriedly upon bursting into the room, taking in the scene before him. Taking quick stock of the situation, he took a moment to see whom it was who caused such a disturbance. It was a child, an insolent little child who dared trespass upon the Salamandrae household.
His face momentarily contorted with rage, it took him several long moments to regain his composure, standing proudly and with an almost regal air to reflect his higher-class upbringing. "You almost made me lose my place...." he said slowly, snapping his book shut after a quick glance at what page he had been on. Deliberately taking his time, he folded his glasses and returned them to his pocket, beginning to advance upon the helpless child.
"Tell me," he said, slowly detaching the metal end of his cane, revealing the concealed blade within. Leveling the blade between the child's eyes, as if his wife's current threat wasn't enough, he continued; "Who else accompanied you. Speak quickly! I'll have you know that just for coming here your life is forfeit, although as to how slow and painful your death is," he paused, letting his words sink in for a moment, "Will depend on how well you answer our questions."
"I'll answer your questions, but not because of that blade in my face. I'm afraid that I don't know the people who I came with very well. I'm new to the school, you see. All I really remember is that there was a person from each of the houses.." Max closed his eyes, thinking harder, then opened them again. "Actually, the leader of our group was advertising for people to join us in the library at our school.. So, if you ask a few people, I think you'll find at least one person that knows his name.. and he'll know the rest of the people that were here." Max said half to himself. Then he focused his attention on the two people before him again, and said "Of course, by telling you that, I've just sold out the few people I know up there..."
Post by Drake Salamandra on Feb 13, 2006 20:46:50 GMT -5
Drake had enjoyed another one of his mother's rather delightful meals, before silently retreating to his room. The moon was shining through his window, providing enough light until he lit a candle on his desk. A small sigh escaped his lips, as he took a seat on the cushioned velvet chair, as was his usual routine.
The flickering candle light illuminated his room, casting shadows off of anything within its path. Slowly, but surely, the white wax began dripping down the length of the candle, pooling within the miniature basin underneath the candlestick.
His room was fairly unexceptional. His bed was decorated with red sheets and covers. On his wall, was a picture of his family, taken a while ago, and an ornately-crafted dreamcatcher. Drake did not beleive in that sort of superstition, but it was interesting to stare at occasionally.
A mirror adorned his wall, directly across from his chair so that he could easily adjust his appearance when desired. But he was content with himself. His shortly cut, blond hair, and his brown eyes, just like his parents. After a slight gaze into his own reflection, Drake picked up the quill next to his journal, and began to write.
Dear Journal,
Today was absolutely uneventful. I went for a stroll through the village today, but still nothing interesting. Once in a blue moon, like today, I wish something different to happen. May it be a theft in one of the stores, perhaps one of the students from that school causing a ruckus outside, or something of that sort. Every day is essentially a monotonous Hell, though for some odd reason, I am still content. Maybe my destiny is to stay here forever, or perhaps I have some greater purpose I have not yet discovered. Either way, I shall go on. -Drake Salamandra
The young boy set down his quill in its ink pool, and closed his leather-bound book. He let his head hang back-wards, and sighed once more. He had heard Mother check in on him while writing, but paid it no mind. She did that every night, so everything was the same. But then came a sound that Drake did not expect.
"Hurried footsteps? What would cause Mother or Father to..." Drake asked himself, cocking an eyebrow out of curiosity. But then came Mother's yell. He pushed away from the oak desk swiftly, and stepped out of his room and turned to go down the stairs to the kitchen, where the footsteps had run to. He paused outside of the door, when he heard Mother, frantic. Not hesitating any longer, he burst through the door, to see what was the matter.
"Mother! What's wrong?" He stepped in to find his mother holding a boy wearing a robe and a yellow badge. Father was there too, with his blade at the child's eyes. "Who is this kid? Tell me he didn't come from that school? We should..."
Drake's words stopped, as his left eye began to twitch uncontrollably, before growing wide, then dilating as he slowly strode to his mother's side, pausing only to take a sharp knife from a drawer, and making sure its edge was keen. His head also tilted to the right slightly, as he took a grim smile on his face.
His voice also took the same cool tone as his mother's as he began tossing the knife from one hand, to the other, before back once more. "Mother, can I be the one to gut him, or peel his skin? I haven't had a chance in so long, not since that sales-fellow last spring. Please Mother? Father took the last one, and you took the fool who had come before him. Maybe we can gouge his eyeballs!"
Max turned his head slightly, to see a boy..maybe..older than him? He couldn't tell. But as he moved his head, the blade at his throat dug deeper into his skin, causing a steady flow of blood to start down his neck and start soaking his robes/cloak. He blinked a few times, and said. "Well, that wasn't entirely thought out. Hello..."
Feronia didn’t seem to react as she heard her husband rushing from his study to see what was wrong. It didn’t matter much whether he came or not, really, as the woman had the situation well under control and was perfectly capable of disposing of such a young person herself. However, she certainly wouldn't want her dear husband to miss out on all of the fun. Thus, as he began to speak, she turned her head and watched with a broadening grin as he underwent the same transformation that she had.
“I’ve got everything under control, dear,” she assured Surtur before turning her attention back to the Hufflepuff whom she’d found sleeping so peacefully in her kitchen. She did not wince as her husband drew the blade from his cane, quite assured by years of experience that he would not falter and injure her instead of his intended target. The woman listened to the conversation between her husband and the student with mild interest, although something about her air and the way she so instinctively kept the blade at the boy’s neck steady implied that she’d experienced similar situations so many times that they had begun to lose their novelty.
When at last the boy finished speaking, Feronia glanced up at Surtur in a way that implied that she was not content with his answer. Wordlessly, she pulled the blade away from Max’s neck, set him back on the ground, and rummaged in a drawer for a length of clothesline. Then, making sure that her husband was paying attention so that his blade did not wind up embedded in the boy’s skull, she bound the intruder’s hands behind him, tying the knots so securely that one could only sever them with a knife.
"You must not be impatient, Drake," the woman admonished, as she tossed the other end of the clothesline over a beam in the ceiling and hoisted the Hufflepuff as though he were a piñata. In the process she caused severe damage to the joints in his shoulders which, in the odd angle at which they were bent and the weight that they bore, began to painfully dislocate. After adjusting the height at which the boy hung for a few moments, she anchored the other end of the line to the faucet in the kitchen sink, which proved sturdy enough to support the boy's weight.
"We need names out of this boy before we could even dream of letting him die so easily," Feronia stated, absentmindedly rummaging through Max's pockets, tossing out any and all contents onto the floor. That included the glowing green rock, which she regarded curiously for a brief moment before chucking it with startling accuracy into a trash bin behind her. Afterward, she stepped away for only a moment to light a burner on the stove before returning to the Hufflepuff and removing the shoe and sock off of his left foot.
"How about we play a memory game? Doesn't that sound like fun?"
She encased his ankle in her fingers and grasped it in a crushing grip, one that would likely leave bruises, although, right then, bruises should've been the very least of the boy's concerns. Chuckling sadistically to herself, she cupped her hand out towards the burner, swiveling her eyes to focus on the flame for a moment, which flowed from the burner like water to form a flame that hovered a fraction of an inch from her palm, the flesh of which did not seem affected by its heat. This was the other affect of the Salamandra curse, which proved quite useful in torturing and killing both guests and intruders alike.
"The object of the game is to remember the names of the people you came here with. The longer it takes you to answer, the longer you have to endure this." And with that, Feronia lifted her palm to the exposed flesh of his toes, which began to blister and scorch under the intense heat of the flame.
Max blinked a few times. "Not that I'm complaining, but I've had much worse burns, you know." He gazed down at his feet with mild curiosity. It was less serious, but those burns didn't take forever to be caused... "Hm.. Let's see, the fir-" Max gasped, as the pain finally reached his brain, and a few tears welled up in his eyes. "That hurts.. You're quite experienced at this.." Max started again. "The first one had a..Red! badge.. so he must've been in Gryffindor.. The other one... was green, the last one blue.. I'm telling you the truth when I say I don't know the last two, and I've only talked to the first one once.. I seem to remember his name starting with a..L! No wait, it was-" Max stopped again. His arms hurt...bad.. "It was a J, there we go.." The burning wasn't helping his concentration.. and the blood seeping into his clothes from his throat didn't help, either. Not to mention his arms. He figured he shouldn't be complaining, it WAS his fault. "The last two I have never, ever seen before. I was recruited seperately..."bg
Post by Drake Salamandra on Feb 16, 2006 19:10:29 GMT -5
Drake smiled contentedly, as his mother 'strung up' the intruder, before beginning the interrogation. His head was still hanging at an odd angle. He even began to laugh slightly as he slowly watched the boy's flesh burn and blacken.
"That's right, feel the pain. Feel the flesh burn and melt. Soon you wont have a foot to burn, then we'll move to the other, then your hands, then your arms, then the rest of your body. Scream a bit too. Then maybe someone might come to try and find the bits of your corpse."
Drake had a rather disturbing tone in his voice, all the while chuckling sadistically. This was the fun part, when they feigned ignorance. He could lie all he wanted, or he could simply be dumb. Either way, Drake would still have fun with this.
He brought the knife he had been holding to eye level. His reflection was visible at the angle he was holding it at, and it was not a sight anyone would ever want to see twice in their lifetime...if they survived the first. He took a few steps to the boy, as he said that he didn't know any of the others. He still was smiling in that twisted manner.
"Bullshit. Nobody would give up their lives to people whose names they didn't know. So then, if fire won't jog your memory, maybe my touch will. Do you know what the sensation of losing a limb is? The pain is instant, feeling the muscle tear, and the veins separate, as your blood starts pouring out. But a simple knife only takes care of the flesh, not the bone. You have to snap that...or, slice right through it. Then comes the sick numbness of no longer having an appendage."
Drake took the blade to the boy's ankle, and rolled up the pants slightly. The boy would be able to see the look on his own face if he looked down onto the knife, as the edge was pressed lightly onto his skin, before brought back with inhuman speed, opening a large wound.
"Hurts, doesn't it? And that's just the opening wound. If you dint tell us who the hell you came with, I'll take a nice little trophy. I'll give you ten seconds kid, I'm feeling generous. Ten seconds, then I'll slice again. And then, if you still wont tell us, I'll take your foot. Sound like a deal?"
The once clean knife was splattered with crimson blood. It was a butcher's knife, made specially for cutting through meat as it just did. The young Drake Salamandra ran his finger on the flat of the knife, leaving a smear as he looked carefully at the blood on his finger. He then licked it nonchalantly, before looking at the boy again.
Holy SHIT! Max thought, looking down at his foot. "That's a lot of blood. As for the whole 'Giving my life' thing, I didn't give it to them. I just sorta... went along.." Max went into thought for a few seconds. What's the point of telling them that kid's name, then I'm going to die anyway.. Hmm... I'll come back and haunt these people... That'll teach 'em. I'll be a ghost. Heh. Max smiled at the people surrounding him, in a contented way. "All systems, shutting down." He said, and used what little strength he had and pulled himself up. He kicked his feet out of the grip of the two cursed beings below him, and wrapped the rope around his neck by spinning. Having let out all air before this, he quickly choked, and all feeling left his body. His sight was gone, his hearing was gone, his whole body stopped functioning. They might as well be chopping and burning a mannequin, his blood stopped, his breathing stopped. His last thought in life was I probably should have told them about that hole in their staircase.. Max Cobalt was dead.
(ooc: There, I think it makes more sense now... Does it?)
Post by Drake Salamandra on Mar 6, 2006 21:10:04 GMT -5
Drake Salamandra, knife in hand, stopped. The joy of the kill had been taken from him forcibly, and by the victim himself. His arms went limp, as his head cocked to the side, with a look of disbeleif on his face. However, that look was soon replaced by one of sheer unbridled fury. A snarl formed on his lips, and an inhuman roar eminated from his vocal chords. He lunged at the corpse, slashing away the clothes, then the skin, the muscle, and then finally into the ogans and bones. His kill had been stolen from him, and it would pay for the theft.
Blood began to spill quickly from the Hufflepuff's body, as Drake dropped the knife, and dug straight into the corpse with his bare hands. He broke apart the ribcage, and tore open the lungs. He also teared out all of the muscle he could, before shortly pulling out the prize: His heart. The blood had formed a massive puddle on the ground beneath the dead boy's body, and in it, the reflection of the teenage Salamandra was seen, butcher knife in hand.
-----------------10 minutes later------------------------- The secondary kitchen was clean, all knives washed, and the floor still sparkling, and possibly clean enough to eat off of. There was no trace of what had occured, and there was fresh meat in the freezer. Drake looked up at his parents, his sleeves rolled back, and a calm look on his face, and smiled slightly. "Well, whoever that prowler was, I think we scared him off....I have to admit, that gave me a bit of a fright, but at least nothing was taken, and everyone is alright. So then, I think that I shall head up to my room. Lovely dinner again mother, and you can check my assignment when you wish to Father. Good night."
Max Cobalt, was but a memory, and the only trace that he had ever been in that house, was the small, glowing green rock in the trashcan.
Teagan Offline: This board is full of nostalgia.
Aug 22, 2020 8:39:09 GMT -5
Missing the old MH: gotta say missing when MH and all that was around.
Nov 6, 2019 0:02:30 GMT -5
Willow_lazy: why tf are there 400 posts about adidas
Sept 6, 2018 17:35:57 GMT -5
Azrael: I'm not hard to find, since I'm the only one there who goes by "Azzy", I'm pretty sure. XD
Feb 10, 2018 16:44:41 GMT -5
Azrael: Dunno if anyone still pops by here from time to time, but if any of you mofos do and still feel like gettin' yo nerd on, I've been hanging around this here place a bunch recently: www.roleplayerguild.com/
Feb 10, 2018 16:44:10 GMT -5
Azrael: hold onto your pantaloons
Jul 25, 2016 5:16:43 GMT -5