Soulless Forest Altar
10-28-2022, 08:02 PM
"Speech!"
Macabre and Ghoul were well and truly two peas in a pod. Their appearances, in height and pelt color, couldn’t be any mkre different yet their bond rivalled that of their twin brothers - forged in blood and forever binding them. They were inseperable at this point, and Mac wouldn’t have it any other way. Like Ghoul, Mac had a certain detachment from the fears many wolves faced about life, and subsequently, death itself. It was just a part of life, no? If it was his time, it was his time. He didn’t see a need to fight his fate, but he’d certainly crack a toothy smile and give off a chuckle. He was wild, foolish, and ever sly - tinkering with his taxidermy only further fueled what he believed about the circle of life. Like the prey that fell under his or his brother’s teeth, breaking their necks, their time had come. One day, Macabre wouldn’t be all too surprised if his own impulsivity led him back full circle in this mortal realm, and he’d be the one to have his neck broken in the jaws of something bigger and stronger than he.
But he didn’t pay much mind to that because, well, he didn’t ponder too deeply. He just did.
His unseeing eye flashed like a lighthouse’s beacon through the fogs and mists of the forest, shining like the fireflies that twinkled in the sharp gaze of the three-headed statue they had visited before. Something - perhaps fate, or perhaps an urge to tempt it - had seemingly brought the duo back here again. He felt his larger brother slip from his blind side, luminescent seeing eye flickering up with amusement and a clear apathy for the statue’s glare as Ghoul climbed on the stone behemoth, trying to catch a firefly. A toothy grin peeled his lips, as if on instinct. "Yeah, get ‘em, Ghoul!" He called out, his voice gravelly yet tinged with his sickening, and rather macabre tone. Suffice it to say, after receiving his injury he clearly didn’t learn a thing about acting any better. If anything, his mannerisms were even worse. And he practically followed his sibling everywhere - so without expecting much, he did just that. The spotted boy was a bit wobbly upon jumping up on the statue’s base, ignoring the strangely still familiars that were surely casting him and his brother dangerous looks. Danger was his middle name! Actually, it was Sepulchre - but no matter. Gaining his balance, the scarred yearling, cheshire grin practically curling his maw into the most twisted, wicked of grins, took his forepaws and began..
..tickling the statue’s feet.
Or at least, the part of the statue where there would’ve been feet, but he let out a mischevious giggle as his foredigits gleefully tickled the statue’s “feet”, saying, "Yeah, tickle fight!" All the while.
Ooc: Mac is..tickling the statue.oh boy.
NPC:
TW: Body horror focused upon the sex organs.
Even the most well disciplined of familiars can hardly contain their gasps as you reach forward to tickle the representation of their beloved deity. The air feels suddenly heavy, constrictive in a way that is almost suffocating. The forest lapses into a deadly silence and a chill sets in as deep as the coldest days of winter. If you look closely it seems the statue is almost vibrating in his rage and indignation.
When the fireflies explode from the skeletal sockets of the statue, they bring with them a sudden cacophonous darkness that steals from you your senses and plunges you into an inescapable void. Their movements are chaotic and quick, too fast for your eyes alone to track if it was not for the rapid disappearance of light as it’s sucked away by the swarm. They are upon you before you can hope to retaliate, throwing their wet, sticky bodies against your pelt and seizing you in place. Once you are rendered sufficiently immobile, the bugs begin their assault.
You watch as the frenzied ink-enveloped bugs move down past your view, swarming lower, and lower, and lower yet. It is when they begin to land and fold their wings that you can begin to discern exactly where their target lies. You can feel the discomforting movement as the fireflies bump against each other upon your underside, each impatiently waiting to begin the touring of your insides.
One by one they begin to crawl, moving single file up flesh and finally forcing their way into the slender tube-like opening. Your urethra is forced to stretch to accommodate their circumference and the searing agony begins to set in soon after. Internally, you’re a mess. The bugs with their writhing movements seem to be seeking something specific, but getting lost along the way. A sudden urge to void your bladder strikes and you cannot help but relieve yourself where you stand, sending somewhat chunky urine onto your paws and drilling wingless fireflies into the grass.
Finally it seems they have found their mark, and as if guided by pheromone the lost fireflies within you begin to renavigate. Another tube is located and forced open, their tiny bodies wriggling and sliding until they reach their desired organs - the testes.
Over many minutes the pain within your body begins to lessen as their movement slowly begins to subside. While you can still feel the squirming in your scrotum, it seems their awkward pathing has come to an end. The urine crusted flies upon the grass struggle to their feet and begin to crawl like ants back toward the statue, while the ones holding you in place dislodge from your fur with a wet squelch and buzz back to their skeletal home. You can not deny that your punishment has ended, but what then of the fireflies that have made a nest there inside you? Perhaps time will tell.
You have received:
Partial Infertility
(You must purchase a season breeding pass to become temporarily fertile for each successful litter you intend to have for the remainder of your life.)
Also, you probably have a UTI now.
TW: Body horror focused upon the sex organs.
Even the most well disciplined of familiars can hardly contain their gasps as you reach forward to tickle the representation of their beloved deity. The air feels suddenly heavy, constrictive in a way that is almost suffocating. The forest lapses into a deadly silence and a chill sets in as deep as the coldest days of winter. If you look closely it seems the statue is almost vibrating in his rage and indignation.
When the fireflies explode from the skeletal sockets of the statue, they bring with them a sudden cacophonous darkness that steals from you your senses and plunges you into an inescapable void. Their movements are chaotic and quick, too fast for your eyes alone to track if it was not for the rapid disappearance of light as it’s sucked away by the swarm. They are upon you before you can hope to retaliate, throwing their wet, sticky bodies against your pelt and seizing you in place. Once you are rendered sufficiently immobile, the bugs begin their assault.
You watch as the frenzied ink-enveloped bugs move down past your view, swarming lower, and lower, and lower yet. It is when they begin to land and fold their wings that you can begin to discern exactly where their target lies. You can feel the discomforting movement as the fireflies bump against each other upon your underside, each impatiently waiting to begin the touring of your insides.
One by one they begin to crawl, moving single file up flesh and finally forcing their way into the slender tube-like opening. Your urethra is forced to stretch to accommodate their circumference and the searing agony begins to set in soon after. Internally, you’re a mess. The bugs with their writhing movements seem to be seeking something specific, but getting lost along the way. A sudden urge to void your bladder strikes and you cannot help but relieve yourself where you stand, sending somewhat chunky urine onto your paws and drilling wingless fireflies into the grass.
Finally it seems they have found their mark, and as if guided by pheromone the lost fireflies within you begin to renavigate. Another tube is located and forced open, their tiny bodies wriggling and sliding until they reach their desired organs - the testes.
Over many minutes the pain within your body begins to lessen as their movement slowly begins to subside. While you can still feel the squirming in your scrotum, it seems their awkward pathing has come to an end. The urine crusted flies upon the grass struggle to their feet and begin to crawl like ants back toward the statue, while the ones holding you in place dislodge from your fur with a wet squelch and buzz back to their skeletal home. You can not deny that your punishment has ended, but what then of the fireflies that have made a nest there inside you? Perhaps time will tell.
You have received:
Partial Infertility
(You must purchase a season breeding pass to become temporarily fertile for each successful litter you intend to have for the remainder of your life.)
Also, you probably have a UTI now.
i’m evil to the core!—
what i shouldn’t do i will
they say i’m emotional—
what i want to save i’ll kill
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