Lore, Soon to Be Art, and Blood Rite(Ing)

[Hugos10]

Oh dear god, the doll just serves as its skin, doesn't it.

 

WELP, there's my nightmares for the next few months.

 

Like Oogie Boogie, but darker!

[Percival]

I was wondering what the homonuculous has to do with the doll you.  I mean, what purpose does it serve?  When does the actual voodoo come in?

 

Have you ever read the Liber Vaccae or the De essentiis essentiarum?

 

No?

 

Good.

 

Oh dear god, the doll just serves as its skin, doesn't it.

 

WE HAVE A WINNER!

[Battal]

Of course I've read Liber Vaccae.  Who do you think I am?

 

WE HAVE A WINNER!

 

That's actually a really cool concept.  Expect Shayalaman to steal it for his next stupid horror film.
 

[Percival]

Of course I've read Liber Vaccae.  Who do you think I am?

The exact recipe listed to create a homunculus was to kill a mother cow while it is in birth, take the half formed calf from the abdomen of the mother, and store it in a heated glass or iron vessel filled with sulfur, saltwater, and the blood of the mother. At least, the edition I read.

How did you not become like me?

 

Edit: You people do know you can request a short story on a DS creature, right?

Edited June 15, 2014 by Pecival

[Parrotoss]

Intriguing friend, intriguing, I must ask however, do people of the norm dare associate with Pecival now in his, deviled state? Does he give off warnings or does he look like the average joe, tell me, I'm scared.

 

Oh, and if you are still taking requests, may I ask a short story about a Deerclops, perhaps loosing her one and only eye? Like that doubly would suck, considering how big it is too.

Ahh, and make Wilson to be the fellow to somehow accomplish such a feat--preferably with a bouquet of flowers.

He's gotta be able to build that multiplayer gate from the puzzle somehow...

 

<--San Andreas.....yay!

Edited June 15, 2014 by Parrotoss

[Battal]

How did you not become like me?

 

Because I am mentally stable.

 

Somewhat.

[Luczrio]

This, is my kind of story.

[Battal]

@, we found you a new best friend.

[Percival]

@, we found you a new best friend.

 

No one can replace Fluffy!!

[Battal]

Not even gonna ask what that is.

[Strangerdanger101]

I have not visited this thread in far too long.

And i bet "Fluffy" is some giant undead creature made of sewed together flesh with its organs exposed.

Edited June 15, 2014 by Strangerdanger101

[Luczrio]

@Strangerdanger

Organs exposed? No.

Use the flesh for bones, bone exposed atop the muscles and tendons, take the organs out and use them to make hats.

[Luczrio]

While I am posting many things, I feel I must mention this is not Voodoo. Voodoo is an art revolving around using items as a medium for souls. The demonic magic Percy practices is more like a form of self-evocation. Evocation being the art of summoning things. The reason for this, is that the Hommoculus does have a soul (I think) be it one of a demon, or of a tortured schitzsophrenically hallucinative butcher. Now this means that Percy is more than likely preparing to have his Hommoculus Evocate him into life after he dies. I think. But since there is no clear line as too what a Hommoculus is, if we go by the Full Metal Alchemist version they are souls created by the consentration of human sin. This is probably why such murder was needed to sustain and evocate it. This means that the hommoculus does have a soul, hence, not voodoo. However, one speculation I hold is that Percy is more than likely going to use the homoculus he summoned, to in turn summon him as a demon. This would be more likely, do too the fact Percy already kills a little. (Not more than me but...) But hey, I dont write the story, and I dont define Homoculus. Dont even get me started on the various interpretations of classical African Voodun,we might be here a while. So ultimately, the story could still go either way and you learned absolutely nothing by reading this. I hope I wasted your time :love_heart:

[Percival]

The worst kind of right is when you are half-right on the tropes and topic of what I am going to do. Now, have a short story about the Deerclops, @Parrotoss. Based on a personal experience, save for a few bits. No bouquet, because they don't exist in DS.

 

 

 

Gouging Of The Eye

 

<------------------------------------------>

 

Wisps of light zipped around in the vast darkness of the night, their radiance waning and waxing with each passing second. Nothing could be seen, and all was silent, save for the few lone buzzing of insects scurrying away to a warmer environment and, of course, the fireflies and their green glow. The light that these fireflies made as they flew around lazily would've appeared peaceful and mesmerizing if the dim streaks of green weren't overpowered by the intense glow of a fiery red inferno in the center of the gloom.

 

A fire curled and writhed in a corner of the darkness, infinitesimally small compared to the twilight around. The tongues of red and orange fed on chunks of now blackened wood, rising higher and higher, spreading more and more of their orange glow in the harsh environment. The light revealed a cracked stone floor, the small fissures in it branching off in erratic directions, small puddles of water, the liquid already seeping into the cracks of the floor, with a ring of white barely visible where light met darkness. The source of the fire itself was a middle-aged, curly haired man, seated far too close to the flame. His entire forehead was covered in a fluffy, furry winter hat of sorts, and he was wearing a padded jacket over his normal clothes, the entire get up looking quite comfortable. Despite this, the scientist was shivering immensely from cold, the violent movement more pronounced in the isolation of this small bubble of light.

 

This world was unforgivable, but up until a few days ago, he was the closest to what he dares to call 'prosperity' in this world. Replenishing food, endless resources, and a comfortable temperature each day, he could take every challenge that this world threw at him in stride, even if it was foolish to think that. Winter put a whole new twist on his health and sanity. Never did he think that that horrible man, if he could be called that, would pull a trump card out on him, but then again, he himself was always a fool.

 

The man, who was no longer shivering as violently as before, broke out of his thoughts and took a glance at the fire. The inferno from before was now diminished, a small wisp of orange. He rummaged through his pockets, and threw a small bundle of twigs into the fire. That was his only expendable source of fuel he had. The man lay down on the ground, waiting for either the sun or a painful death. First things first, he needs to get more wood.

 

<------------------------------------------>

 

The sky was strewn with spots of white. Stumps of various sizes were scattered around the white forest floor, the grass stamped down on the ground. The few lone bushes among the stumps that haven't frozen over were already picked clean of their fruit. The scientist, his winter hat covered in spots of white and the area around his mouth stained a pale red, was hacking away at the bark of an evergreen tree with a flimsy axe, the wood of the tree and the flint of the axe being worn away in equal measure. Of course, his efforts to fell the tree are hindered by the fact that he was holding the axe in one hand, as his other hand was grasping onto a slightly worn out spear for some odd, unknown reason. In fact, the man seemed disproportionally tense for chopping down trees.

 

The axe struck the bark of the evergreen, and the tree slowly toppled over, hitting the ground with a soft thump. The tenseness in the man's posture before was now replaced with a slumped, thankful arch, though shivers were beginning to slowly run up his entire back. He proceeded to hack away at the fallen tree, and he soon walked away from a pile of branches and the remains of an axe, his jacket weighing even more with the divided blocks of wood and countless pine cones.

 

Walking along a rugged path of stamped down terrain, he followed the path towards his camp, or what he was slowly calling a home. The scientist seemed to be breathing more easily, and the slight shivers from before seemed smaller as he trekked on. As he took the stroll towards his base, he seemed to be thinking that all will be fine once he-

 

What was that noise?

 

The man stopped in his tracks abruptly, frozen on the path. Silence, apart from the wind blowing into his ears. Then he heard it again; a deep, trembling thump that he vaguely deduced to be behind him. That was far too deep, far too loud, and far too overwhelming to be anything recognizable, far too fearful for anything, whether from this world or his own, he has ever heard. Steeling himself and his sanity for what he may find, he slowly twisted around, looking over his back.

 

A creature of massive proportions, fifty times the size of the average man, was stumbling around a long trek away, its outline visible against the background of falling snow. The entirety of its body was covered in a thick growth of fur, the coat a brilliant sheen of white. The few areas of its bizarrely humanoid body that weren't covered in fur were different; the bare skin was shown to be rugged, thick and wrinkled, not unlike the skin of an elephant. Its head was, again, different; it vaguely resembled the smooth head of an elk, complete with ebony horns, the antlers branching off in random directions. It looked so humanoid and yet so animal-like that it was slightly unnerving.

 

At least, it would've been only just unnerving if it wasn't for the fact that the spawn before him didn't have a single, cyclops-like glob of white placed in the center of the creature's forehead, looking like the offspring of an elk and a cyclops.

 

As the scientist was frozen in place with fear and a new sense of curiosity, scanning the creature before him, he didn't think of running or hiding; curiosity of how the creature worked and lived overridden those basic survival instincts. He was a scientist, so it was second-nature. It wasn't long until the creature twisted around, looking for food and something to smash, and saw the small, insect sized silhouette of our friend here. Naturally, being a monster, it growled and charged at him.

 

Now, this would normally be a good time for someone who think they are sensible to bolt and run, but this is a scientist that has lived in this harsh world for long enough to know better. He knew that he could run, but a lifetime of running for himself was seven steps, perhaps eight, for the cyclops. Standing still won't do good either unless he has a death wish, but to be fair, death seems better than Winter. The only thing that he could do to ensure his survival was the last thing he was most qualified for, at least in his current condition.

 

So, naturally, he did it.

 

Reaching into his weighed down coat, he pulled out, from one the odd lumps in his vest, a small helmet. Forcing the tight-fitting protection gear on his head, he proceeded to pull out the spear that he held from before. He took all the resources he was holding and dropped them on the grass; sticks, flint and rope were kept on him. With only a helmet and a flimsy spear, his chances of survival were quite low. And yet, he charged at the thing, brandishing a simple weapon, and yelled at the top of his reedy voice the cry he has always cried in battle, slightly modified for the monster he was battling.

 

"Go for its eye!"

 

<------------------------------------------>

 

Blood trickled down the front of the scientist's now decimated overcoat, the lines of crimson branching along the curves of his body like lightning. His vision was hazy and wobbly, writhing and twisting and ultimately a mess. He was so weak at the knees, he couldn't stand, and so he lay crumpled on the frozen floor, his body shivering violently from the blood freezing on his front. His only spear was worn down to almost nothing, just as barely useable as he was living.

 

While he couldn't tell where the creature was, he would've seen that he barely hurt the creature; in fact, the ankles of the cyclops creature were the only thing that were harmed, and even then they were only like small scratches and wounds. His efforts were futile and useless, and the worst kind of failures are those that are the result of futile, meaningless work.

 

He lay on the ground, waiting for either the monster or hypothermia to claim his life. Either way would be painful. Frankly, it didn't matter to him.

 

He felt lighter and warmer, his sense of vision turning white. Was he ascending? This didn't feel anything like ascension; he felt a rough surface rubbing against his sin. He was being lifted, lifted by the creature up to its head; perhaps the creature wanted to snack on his body? He hoped he would be passed out by then. He closed his eyes, waiting for teeth to crush every bone in his body, waiting for an unbearable death..

 

Then an idea came to him.

 

It was a horrible idea, a suicide thought, but he was going to die anyways. Insanity becomes meaningless when death is evident in rationality; might as well fatally injure the creature then greet death with open arms and a cake. The now determined scientist propped his head up, looking for some indication of where he was. He couldn't see anything with this hazy vision. Then he felt a gust of warm, musty air rush over his entire body. That must be the horrible breath of the creature. Turning himself around towards the source of the musk, he braced himself for the worst situation, and wrenched the claws clenched on him off, stood up, and lunged at empty air, unable to see.

 

He felt his feet contact with a wet, writhing mass, and he heard a horrible screeching sound. He knew he had done it. He collapsed onto the creatures eye, and dug his fingernails into the jelly-like mass, twisting pieces of it and forcing his entire hand into the flaccid material. It was easier then he thought, and it was actually quite fun. Listening to the screeches of pain of the creature, he dug his hand into the white flesh and pulled out chunks of it, the red inside the sphere of white squelching out in spurts. His hands were soaked with crimson, and he pierced each ripped piece with his hands, madly digging into the side of the eyes, pulling away with an insatiable desire as blood flowed down his arms, forcing his entire arm into the gaping, lifeless pupils. He didn't even notice that the creature has already collapsed; he was too busy with this oddly fun activity. He squeezed each squelching piece with his hands, crushing each cube of red and white. He grabbed one piece, and let it slide out of his hands. He grabbed another piece, and let it slide out of his hands. He grabbed another piece, and let it slide out of his hands.

 

<------------------------------------------>

[Battal]

I'm pretty sure you have an eye-tearing-out fetish.

Quite an enjoyable short story.  It was very nice and detailed, especially that great description of the Deerclops.  I did have a couple peeves with it, however.  First, the use of the same phrases multiple times in short succession.  Reading "spots of white" twice within two sentences is kind of irritating, especially when you can just use "snow" and bring in a bit of variety.  Second of all, the ending was kind of abrupt.  But that's just nitpicking.

[Percival]

First, the use of the same phrases multiple times in short succession.  Reading "spots of white" twice within two sentences is kind of irritating, especially when you can just use "snow" and bring in a bit of variety.  Second of all, the ending was kind of abrupt.  But that's just nitpicking.

 

Yes, I do have a tendency to use phrases often, but I usually keep them spaced apart, a paragraph at least. Odd.

 

And second, I felt that if I went on, I would be banned from the forums for the gruesome idea I had in mind.

 

And yes, I do have an eye gouging fetish. Actually, just a nightmare fetish.

 

Edited June 16, 2014 by Pecival

[DwerBomb]

Is Fluffy an hamster?

[Percival]

Is Fluffy an hamster?

 

HE KNOWS.

[Parrotoss]

Haha, thank you Pecival, it was a very fun read! I'm still a bit disappointed you didn't manage to involve flower stabbing--three flowers would have been a plausible bouquet, right?

Anyway, sleeping in a huge eye socket seems oddly fun--could delude yourself into thinking its strawberry tapioca jello/pudding and that swimming around in it like a freezing fish is socially a okay~!

[Luczrio]

You see, I wanted to post something funny, but I realized I was not funny. So I'm going to post the one thing this thread needs. 

    FIRE
 

[Percival]

FIRE

 

Chapter AGHHFWGEHCDGD

IT BURNS!

 

AHFEGLHFAJDNRGYXDSASDfg[]htjtyt[rethregasddfzdgfhdghmttnbesdvagzdtefAsDZB TDJDHTNGJ.;POI098TFYDSEDFZZDXDNDDBVFBGFCDFFDSGDBGVhelpHELPehplgjofhecdlEASHNTDFSDZGSFRDSADDAFFASDFGDSGCZvFRADGEGNMTFXYHH.....L;L;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;LJGFDSDSFGfbZFV

[Luczrio]

This was, in my opinion, hands down Pecivals best Chapter. I have absolutely no critiques for it at all. I found the character development blessful. My favorite part was when "[rethregasddf" I mean the passion! Percy you really do have a gift for this. AND THAT PLOT TWIST

[Battal]

FIRE

 

 

Hey, that's my thing.

[Willette]

Ah, even though this thread seems to be rather dead, i still see some wonderfully alive pictures of violence. Nice.

[Percival]

Ah, even though this thread seems to be rather dead, i still see some wonderfully alive pictures of violence. Nice.

 

I have a horrible writer's block. Has nothing to do with me not knowing what to write.

 

It more involves the idea that I can't describe it exactly and perfectly the way I can, with the sadistic charm I'm known for..