martedì 2 maggio 2017

LI - The Cult of Hidden Knives: The Slender Threadbare

Everything was prepared for the dark ritual. Long black candles filled the air with their disgustingly sweet scent, unholy flutes and drums spreaded their hypnotic and unnatural melodies and, all around, cultists danced drooling, completely sick in the lights of the flames.

The priest looked the scene, holding in its thin lips a grin of pleasure: preparing such a great ritual was not a simple task. He could found a mass of brainless idiots to maneuver like puppets easily everywhere, but such a great Eclipse in the sky was a unique opportunity to evoke one of his Lords.
He caressed the worn-out cover of the small book he keeps in his hand: the runes carved in its cover started to shine menacingly, and he could feel the energy that the ritual was concentrating.

That book: it arrived in his hands from his father, whom received it from his father, and so on, till the beginning of the time. Many words were without sense to him: the Crippled Towers, Lustria, The Black Pyramid and many more, were only  words that he wanted -but couldn't- to know which ancient mystery were hiding.

The time arrived: he felt that he must do it. He stared evilly the seven shivering prisoners that his minions had abducted some nights ago, ready to be sacrificed. The music became more fast, the cultist danced more insanely. The prisoners were crying, their fate sealed. Some cultists started to carve unclean symbols on their heads: they should be the medium of the evocation.
With a long rusty needle extracted ably from its dirty sleeve, he stung a big pulsating black and red unnatural pustule on his stomach: a yellow mucus started to flow, and little small flies began to crawl out his mouth, throught his yellow teeth. The music was defeaning, the cultists swirled dangerously: some of them started to bleed from the eyes, and bubbles started to grow on their yellow skin. The priest started to scream, overturning his eyes: "Aiknah Nurgleth re'fna, Aiknah Nurgleth re'fna, Aiknah Nurgleth re'fna, Aiknah Nurgleth re'fna, Aiknah Nurgleth re'fna..." .
He could not say  for the seventh time the formula, a sharpened blade with a fluid movement cut his hand holding the impious book, and then came out his mouth, like a flower of steel.
When the gaunt body of the Sorcerer fell down noisily, the music stopped brusquely and the cultists arrested their dance stunned by the interruption: in the daze of the drugs, they could only see a pale creature that floated with ragged clothes, with a shiny eye on its front. After that, nothing more.

The seven prisoners did not uderstand what was happened: resigned to die in the best of the cases, they were surprised by the fact that a creature much more fearful than the filthy worshipers of the unmetionable gods saved them. They tried to talk to it, but they only received a cut on their throats.

The thin creature looked the massacre: lesser creature are dead, die, and are going to die. With a black cloth picked up the small book, trying not to touch it directly.
Why do they worship Gods that they only want everything burn? No one share its power, above all with a pityful human. Then he looked absently the dead prisoners: probably they did not understand why he had to slain them, with pleasure, but he knows that a closed door, is anyway a door. 

The Slender Threadbare is one of the assassins whom belongs  to The Cult of The Hidden Knives. He is specialized in daemons and cultists, and it seems that the small stone on its front helps him to find where daemons are going to be shown. The worn-out light clothes and his elegance are scareful, probably one of the worst thing to see before die.

The Cult of The Hidden Knives is an organization of assassin that pursues its mysterious purposes with ruthless precision and efficiency. Someone says that the birth of the Cult has its roots absorbed in the Eons,  in times that probably should not be remembered. However, few knows about the existence of the Cult, and fewer talk about it without lowering their voice, and becoming wary of it.

This guy is the first I have created of my small warband of Dark Aelves, but it is the second I have finished to paint.  I was quite disgusted by the -probably - dark aelves of the silver tower, and that was the start to invent my idea of dark aelves, based on my favourite dark elves, the assassins.
However I was interested to twist that miniature I don't like, so I tried to make it more confortable to my taste. Hope you like it!

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