You have been taken by the Mists

Author Topic: Search for the Pest Controller.  (Read 2257 times)

DSM-IV

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Search for the Pest Controller.
« on: October 08, 2014, 04:42:21 PM »
Hear the sounds of bones cracking, see the flesh being gluttonously consumed.  A sickening unique sound and sight not ever forgotten.    A tortured soul, with an insatiable hunger.  It cries out, so lonely, so terribly lonely.  A broken psyche trapped in a sea of mindlessness.  Does one pity?  Does one wish to destroy?  A story has just started to unfold.

One has already been bitten, moist so delicate a taste as it rolls down a black slug like tongue.  It is true Hin flesh is the best?  No, not when it is alive, not when its too warm.  The perfect moment for consumption is right after the soul leaves.  The meat is then just right.  Perfect to the fine palate.

But, watch her struggle, tattered memories adrift in its mind.  LOOK as she fights the urges for she still does not know what she is!!  She?  No, it.  A life it once knew is forever gone, but its refusing to accept. 

Then the hunger, clouding its mind.  A shark in bloody water.  It must feed, it has to feed.  She fights the killing, but for how long? So many bodies, yet they are cold, long dead.  How long can it survive upon them?   

Sad, pitiful, sorry, and so very, very dangerous.                 
I play Tick
I play a Garda
I play a Dawnbringer
I play a Ghoul

DSM-IV

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Re: Search for the Pest Controller.
« Reply #1 on: October 09, 2014, 07:36:24 PM »
It's hunger runs deep, deep in its being, there is no stopping, no slowing it.  It will take over, soon.  Nothing can stop that, right?  Its life force is gone, yet it clings to its memories like family pictures saved during a fire.  Snapshots of the past snatched from the mouths of destruction.  Why not give in to the hunger?  Give in to the killing.  It would be so much easier, so much tastier.  No more long dead dusty bones, and scraps of petrified flesh. No more dead rats, beetles, and gnats, oozing their innards between jagged fangs.  Lapped up by its black slug like tongue.

You have tasted the humans' sweat that ran down their shivering faces.  Tasted their fear.  Too warm, too alive.  The hunger will drive you to kill, for only after that soul has left will it satisfy.  Two, close calls.  Too close, calls.  How will it keep it self from the need?  It will not.  Sooner rather then later, it will kill.  Then, it will not stop. 

So lonely, so pitiful, hunched over piles of bones whose owners have been forgotten.  Those raging inhuman yellow eyes, staring into darkness.  Does it think?  Is it clinging to its past life?  How sad.  Crying out for past memories?  Who is the Pest Controller?   

Suck the very marrow out!  It won't be long till it smashes its face into the chest cavity of its victim, with the sound of a popped tomato.  Buried deep inside, the slug tongue feeling, driving, wiggling into the moist flesh.  You will feed your need!  FEED IT.  Dig its head deeper, and harder.  Till your own rotting innards are stuffed.  Then feed more, till your gluttony regurgitates your prize, upon your prize.  Then feed off it again. 
I play Tick
I play a Garda
I play a Dawnbringer
I play a Ghoul

DSM-IV

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Re: Search for the Pest Controller.
« Reply #2 on: October 12, 2014, 07:59:49 PM »
Find the Pest Controller, were the first and last things it ever said.  Who or what was the Pest Controller?  Was it what changed her?  Is it what gave her the ghoul fever?  The Half-Orc Hiver from Sigil.  A known thief who had stolen from the very devils of the nine hells.  Who was taken by the Mists.  Who then was mistaken for something else, and cast down into Vallaki sewers.  Alone, starving, she fell to the depths of depravity few have, feasting upon the flesh of the undead.

Irony, or perhaps justice.  The hunger, the endless lust for corpses.  It could not get enough.  It was too much and it led to her first and only kill.  A foreign warrior not of this land, honorable, good, wholesome.  Met his death with a flick of it's talon popping his head off like a cork.  It was gruesome, horrifying, and nauseating.   It buried its head into the chest cavity of the man before his limp body hit the crypt floor.  Its entire being feasting in complete ecstasy.  It didn't even feel the blades, arrows, and hammer crushing its spine, its decaying flesh, its bones.  It was being destroyed while doing the only thing it was meant for.  To feed.   

This is the end of her/its story, but the question still remains: Who is the Pest Controller?     
I play Tick
I play a Garda
I play a Dawnbringer
I play a Ghoul