ISAR
Arm yourself
The sack left a bloody trail where it dragged across the obsidian floor. It was heavy, and the man limped as he painstakingly inched towards the altar. Some of the blood was his own; he did not mind. What did it matter, when the contents within the sack and his own emaciated frame was the same?
The offering he piled into the shallow bowl was a gruesome one. Limbs, hands, legs and torso - all that remained of a careless traveler. Judging by the state of them, not one likely to be missed, not that it mattered. Surviving the Wilds on his own had undone most of his conviction towards changing his ways. Now, when he found himself on the edge in all ways, it seemed just as plausible to lean into the path he had been set onto, as moving from it.
At the top of the macabre pile he balanced the head. Empty eyes gazed into his, cloudy and burst; no reflection to be found within, unless as an expression of the hunger that had become part of his very essence.
For good measure, Isar drew from his belt a dagger and slashed a deep cut into his arm. The blood stained the gaping lips of the corpse, gushing from the severed neck, trickled down to every part of the pile.
"Goddes Dygra, hear me. Accept my offering. I have no family, no home, nothing to call my own. This existence - it's not a life I want anymore. Do you want it? I'll give it to you, for a chance to belong somewhere."
Black eyes stared into the darkness, void of any real hope. This was a last gamble; if this failed, he would probably die before ever leaving the Climb.
The offering he piled into the shallow bowl was a gruesome one. Limbs, hands, legs and torso - all that remained of a careless traveler. Judging by the state of them, not one likely to be missed, not that it mattered. Surviving the Wilds on his own had undone most of his conviction towards changing his ways. Now, when he found himself on the edge in all ways, it seemed just as plausible to lean into the path he had been set onto, as moving from it.
At the top of the macabre pile he balanced the head. Empty eyes gazed into his, cloudy and burst; no reflection to be found within, unless as an expression of the hunger that had become part of his very essence.
For good measure, Isar drew from his belt a dagger and slashed a deep cut into his arm. The blood stained the gaping lips of the corpse, gushing from the severed neck, trickled down to every part of the pile.
"Goddes Dygra, hear me. Accept my offering. I have no family, no home, nothing to call my own. This existence - it's not a life I want anymore. Do you want it? I'll give it to you, for a chance to belong somewhere."
Black eyes stared into the darkness, void of any real hope. This was a last gamble; if this failed, he would probably die before ever leaving the Climb.
Because no one else here will save you
