I felt over my art piece, carving with my blade, cleanly severing tendon, sinew, and skin. The muscles, veins, arteries, those were what caused the art to be truly portrayed. Bright red and dark black painted a beautiful visage across my mask as I kept up my work. The tapestry before me needed to be extracted fully, and I put every fiber of my being into creating a masterpiece.
A guttural moan escaped the second most feared man Shipton. The Devilbone gang leader, Gur'kach. His suffering was near its end. After all, what great work is known for the tapestry it is written on? The material behind the art, the canvas. I truly recognize those who are sacrificed to create art.
"You won't… huuu… get out… we'll follow… huuu… you'll… be chased to-" my rapier swiftly cut his vocal cords into loose thin strands, causing him to gasp and struggle to speak in an incoherent manner.
I reach up to pull on a chain, detaching his torso from his leg sockets, still connected by the slowly splitting thin veins below. Pouring a health potion into his mouth I continued, healing the veins at the same rate they split and causing them to stretch. Blood spurt across my face and across my mask as I pulled and pulled. Once his legs were an appropriate distance away I looked up to make sure everything was in a good position.
Making sure to take my time to respond, I delivered the good news, "You should know by now that all of your members, sleeping with wives, children, families yet to be born, will all die. But not their lineage. Find solace in that, if you even can, you monster."Â
Cutting into bone to make a sigil, I continue, "Your hideouts burned, your tomes unwritten. Public record will be altered. The gang you are so fond of will have never existed, and never will again." I pierce the blade deep into a tendon, moving swiftly as I curate sections here and there across the splayed tapestry.
Stepping back I gaze upon the orc, now looking more like the perfect medical specimen for dissection. In-between the thin strings holding him aloft there was plenty of space to feel across every bone, muscle, and fiber of his being. I strummed a vein like a harp, causing the tapestry to spasm with individual muscles flexing and twitching without causing a disturbance in the artwork.
"You are my final work, utterly deserving of your outcome," I state passively as I step onto a stool to look into his separated eyes one after another, "and utterly deserving of my blades."
Taking out a final potion of healing and injecting it into a ever-flowing incense burner I breathe in deeply. This unique magical item I found many years ago is perfect for this. It is fitting this deviant should suffer such a fate.
"For those you left dying in darkness, I sentence you to eternity here. May you be forgotten forever." A tear dripped down from the empty eye sockets of the orcish creature, traveling down his cheek to where his jaw was removed hours ago.
I moved my mask forward to collect the tear as it fell. It dripped down and merged into the red coloration, swirling into a mix of runic word, completing the ritual.
Hmmm... Did it work?
I felt over my body, walking to the mirror the undying orc's eyes were fixated on, and looked at my face without the mask. A shuddering motion came from behind me as my art piece tried to recoil in fear. Thousands of faces, with disassociated emotions fled across my face in waves. Black ink bled from my eyes as I felt my soul erupt with pressure, condensing and expanding, over and over again, an unholy dance that intensified with the passing time.
I drop the mask to the floor, causing it to clatter into the darkness. I felt backed in a corner, falling, flying, concentrated, expansive. My body wasn't going to survive this if I didn't do something soon. I look to the exposed still beating heart of the orc behind me, the rhythm uneven from the healing mist and the transformation taking place before its unmoving eyes.
"Art requires sacrifice... I still have many lessons to learn." I mulled to myself as I quickly decided on an action.
Pulling out one of my rapiers from my waistband I hold it with two hands and cleanly run it through the orc's heart. A slight glow permeated the veins of the art piece, creating a river of reddish gold. A thump rang out as if a door was being knocked.
Step one complete, now for the hardest part.
I pull out my second rapier and fall to my knees. Looking up at the glowing heart of the orc that increased in luminescence with each passing second I pray. The deity foreign to this realm, one I met in a dream, the Raven Queen. With a swift motion I plunge the blade into my chest, as I kneel forward in pain, gasping for air, hoping this saves my soul.
I pray to you, let my seeking of knowledge not end here. You know my potential, my ability to adapt. I can learn any secrets you wish. Please let me survive this affliction.
I felt no response, no holy light, only darkness as the heart in front of me stopped beating alongside mine. The glow around the room began to fade as the candlelight flickered out.
I pray... that I can see...
Darkness clouded my thoughts as the grey room reflected in my eyes.
The secrets... of this world... again...
...
A droplet of blood fell from the hilt of the rapier stabbed into the exposed heart, falling onto the rapier's twin embedded in the chest of a dying shadar-kai. The blood droplet traveled unnaturally down the blade and into the heart of the devotee.
A woman appeared in the darkness, looking over the scene with amusement.
"It's been so long Vas, I am glad you decided to join us once more... Even if only for a moment."
She reached toward the hilt of the blade embedded in the shadar-kai's chest and pulled it out.
...
I feel for the hilt of the blade, pulling it out of my chest violently. Gasping for air I collapse forward into a fetal position. The pain is unbearable, all over my body, my face, everything hurts. I cry genuinely for the first time in a while as I realize I am alive, despite the pain. I feel my face as I lay on the ground, it felt smooth, and I had hair once more.
I crawl to the standing mirror and looked at my face. I could hardly determine if anything changed besides the addition of soft new hair. Even though dark vision was helpful, it had limitations. I lit a candle nearby, lifting it up toward myself to see in color after my resurrection. My face really was different. I looked indistinguishable from a human now, with an olive complexion and more muscular build. My extremely white hair though was full and not like the dark hair I once had.
A lot has changed from my original appearance. Maybe I could finally leave...
Turning around I gaze upon my art piece, now shriveled and lifeless, with my masterwork mask now devoid of the signature red color. The mask was clean, which meant...
Thank you mother of shadows, for letting me roam this world once more.
The many emptied health potions, tossed weapons and tools crafted for single use purposes, and the slowly rotting orc's body were all that remained. Kneeling down I pickup the incense burner. The mutilated body would not heal anyways. Pulling out a spell scroll as I neared the exit of the room I kept some thoughts to myself. Once I was past the threshold I turned around and extended a deep bow to the onlookers now begone from my head.
Thank you for allowing me this performance.
"Fireball."