Quote:It was utterly sickening how day by day, he noticed how much he uncannily resembled his father in various ways. Morikiah had developed a sense of resentment towards himself for that, but an even bigger fuel of passionate hate burned red-hot for the man who made him this way. Irradiate golden eyes gazed into the obscure blackness of the still waters before him, the only thriving soul to stare back at him was his own lustrous eyes, vacant and destitute. Those eyes that demanded attention, but hid pain, anger, and frustration behind a forsaken mask of porcelain beauty.
Thinking to the children who presently survived under such jurisdiction as the Kingdom's he claimed home to, he was suddenly glad that he had been considered royalty, superior to the rest. They were lost children, the lot of them, suckling still at their brash, half-naked Christ like babes to bare breasts, needy and devotedly foul, and their bitterness outweighing their greedy affections only when necessity flashed its brawling mutiny. Forced from the loins of vagabond hags, they lived like writhing rats in dripping, festering sewers, their bodies slick with the filth of their sires, their minds and mouths filmed over with greasy, grotesque propaganda. In all truth it was a gutter, a grimy place where only the most barren and wretched of animals paraded themselves, bare-bones and waggling tongues, a kingdom of predators and prostitutes, whores and horrors.
Novus' sickly charms and wily pleasures existed only in the vilest of its cavernous carnage and Morikiah, permeated in defiant disgust of its' charlatan King, whose impulsive, cruel whip stained and completely tarnished the family name, had vanished. Never had he witnessed such crude, pointless violation, lacking anything of the beckoning nature, inviting only a reckless, hare-brained blood-lust to rile an already rabid rage. Never had he watched the possession of such furious gypsies, in their snarling mentality, ruled and raided by the only man who could outmatch them in sickness and cruelty. In the animal rivalry of his own sadism, Morikiah, ravenous and murderous, was no better. Born and taught with the killer mentality, he relished it, the hot-blooded creature marked as a victim beneath his grasp, the torture that was to come.. The wretchedness of its vermin infested waters likening something of horrific fascination to a starving, heroine-hacked mind had molded him into a similar replica.. the product of a madman.
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