Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-3293219-20140521200039/@comment-3293219-20140522174408

Set awoke to the sound of agonising screams, prompting him to shoot up and gasp. He appeared to be deep in the wilderness, his hands and feet were bound together and he was surrounded by people in green robes. They weren't paying attention to him as they were too busy watching some sort of ceremony...

The Bosmer's view of the ceremony was obscured by a cultist, who's green robes blocked him, like a curtain, which is a fitting analogy, considering that he eventually stepped out of the way and revealed the grand performance. A Redguard was lay out, on an alter as a cultist stood over him, dragging a knife through his belly and slicing it open. The Redguard continued to shriek, closing his eyes and screaming his lungs out, whilst he still had them. The cultist was a balding Altmer, he looked middle aged, in his face, but his hair was still a very dark brown.

He stopped, as soon as the Redguard's organs had been exposed and gestured for two Bretons to approach the alter. One of them was the Breton, who had knocked Set unconscious; the other was a woman, who looked quite similar, with blond hair and a similar face. They both stood by his side as the Redguard watched, paralysed with fear as they looked to him, getting an approving nod as the Altmer stood up, picking up his staff and standing on the alter as he looked down on the man.

“We stand before you, lady Namira, offering you this sacrifice on your day of summoning to show thanks for the protection, that you give us each day, from the dark lord, Telemachus!” The altmer called out, turning back to his people as they stood eagerly awaiting his go ahead.

"Let the harvest begin!" He called, throwing his arms in the air and getting a thunderous cheer from his followers. The two Breton nodded to each other and began to bury their hands in the Redguard’s torso, causing him to cry out even more. His cries were drowned out by the cheering of cultists. Set watched, somewhat disturbed, as they clawed at the man’s insides and scooped out his stomach, liver, intestines and a few other things that he couldn’t identify and dropped them into a metal bowl, that lay at Namira’s feet. He could hear the sound of the squishy organ matter splatting against the bowl as it was dropped, unceremoniously, at Namira’s feet.

The barbaric ritual persisted, much to Set’s disgust, as they continued to pull bits of flesh and eventually started snapping bits of his spine and ribcage and pulling them out of the man, long after he had let his grip on life go and his head went limp and rolled away, looking to the shrine as he lost all emotion in his face.

Set began to heave as the Bretons smeared the sacrifice’s blood on their face, thankful that his stomach was empty, preventing him from vomiting as he would probably have to lie in it, if he did. He watched as they finished butchering the Redguard, bringing back some bad memories in the process of Aratius and Maria on top of that cursed tower. Once they had finished the cultists began to unshackle the dead body, lifting it off of the offering table and throwing it to one side. It landed with a thud, creating a large pool of blood beneath it…

“My people! Namira has received our offer; we shall remain protected for another year!” This got a mild cheer from the crowd, who already knew this…

“Now, let us feast in her honour!” This again got a cheer, as the cultists began to pump their fists in the air, making Set sigh in relief as this brought him some time…

“Bring the Bosmer!” He called, pointing at Set, prompting the cultists to step out of the way of the oncoming Bretons, both of which had already started moving towards him before the order was given.

They grabbed him by both arms, smearing the Redguard’s blood all over his biceps as they dragged him along. He was too weak to resist and even if he wasn’t, he pretty much wished that he was dead. He half heartedly shuffled his feet along the floor as they dragged him towards a large wooden table, whilst several cultists stood around, eager to begin their ‘feast.’

They held Set down, pinning him to the table as they got ready to restrain him; they turned to the Bretons, who approached with something in their hand, holding it out. To Set’s surprise and confusion, they handed nails to their fellow cultists, who began to press the point of which to Set’s hands and feet.

“I love to bring a bit of irony to a banquet.” The Altmer chuckled, getting a laugh from everyone, even a few Bosmer cultists as he drew a hammer, that had been placed by Set’s feet.

Oh fu-

Set couldn’t finish the thought before the Altmer drove the hammer down, making the nail sink into Set’s hand and causing him to cry out in pain, cursing as loud as he could, at the top of his lungs as half a nail was now jutting out of his right hand. The Altmer gave it another whack, sending the nail right through…

He tried to put up a struggle, knowing that he didn’t want to die like this… There were better ways, easier ways that were far less painful.

Set continued to scream in agony as his left arm was nailed to the table, preventing him from moving it, literally pinning him to it. The Altmer moved onto Set’s feet, pressing the point of the nail against them as he hovered the hammer over, striking down, remorselessly as he drove the nails through the Bosmer’s feet…

   Set faded in and out of consciousness, everything went black and hazy and the voices around him echoed but he was eventually coming round, to see the Altmer, hovering the dagger over his chest. The dagger was a ceremonial dagger, which had a realistically depicted rotting head on top, which resembled that of a zombie or perhaps it was just a rotting   corpse.

The Bosmer could do nothing but watch as the blade was hovered over his chest, he breathed heavily as the cult leader pressed the tip of the dagger’s blade against his chest and began to drag it down, across his stomach.

Set immediately felt the pain shoot through his body, he threw his head back, screaming inside his head as he was too weak to do it out loud. He panted, looking around at the cultists, frantically as if he was looking for sympathy but they just jeered and chanted around him.

Maria… Eilonwyn…

I’m sorry…

He screamed out as the blade cut across his stomach, slamming his head against the wooden table as he felt the blood trickle down his sides and around his waist.

“I love you…” He whispered as his teeth began to chatter from the shock and loss of blood, his eye rolled over before closing and his head rolled to the side as he went limp.