Dark Aeons
Page 49
Lord of Carrion
Rot.
The rich smell of decaying flesh flowed up into his nostrils and his eyes closed as a wave of ecstasy shuddered to his brain. Gaunt flesh shivered and stretched as the master’s body unfolded and reared to its full, magnificent height. Cracked bones jutted from tears in his leathery skin, and as he took his first steps forward, new gashes opened up along his emaciated torso.
Death.
The sky was was a faded yellow and the world was tense and silent. Brittle soil crunched beneath bony feet, baked under the harsh glare of a pallid sun. A long, thin toe brushed against a tiny clover, struggling to bring life to the barren landscape. Green turned to brown, and the clover began to decay and crumble into dust. The Lord of Crows paid it no need; his goal lay ahead.
Putrefaction.
A smile marred the face of the Rotted King, his leathery skin stretched even tighter over his narrow face. Lengthy strands of faded white hair fluttered to the ground, abandoning their perches on the Gaunt Man’s crumpled head. Gleaming bone showed on his decaying scalp as the flesh peeled away, withering down to nothing. A dead tree appeared from the grey mists, and the sky began to take on a sickly ochre hue. The sweet smell of decomposition emanated from the base of a twisted tree. It was the only break in the endless monotony of the dead plains.
Decay.
The Count of Corpses lurched forward his final few steps and clumsily knelt before the putrid corpse of what had once been Man. The ravens and crows began to descend, a carpet of midnight covering all the land. Buzzards and long-necked vultures circled beneath the emerging flames of the sun, waiting in silence as the sun’s bleak gaze baked the body of Man. The Master of the Fallen buried his face in the dry, stinking flesh, his fangs gleaming for an instant in the light. He reared back his head, strings of disintegrating meat wedged between his crooked teeth. His empty, hungry eyes glowed with a foul, beautiful life as he feasted, gnarled claws thrusting deep into the flesh of Man, the Baron’s naked body convulsing with pleasure. Silence was broken by sickening squelches as the King’s jaws tore open and ripped out the delicious meat. The juices of decomposition flowed down his haggard face, and the carrion birds all about him set up a raucous chorus as he gorged himself upon the desiccated remnants of what had been Man.
Pleasure.
The Prince of Putrescence got to his feet when the flesh was finally stripped from the gleaming bones of Man. He took with him a bone and cracked it in two, pouring the dried dust of marrow down his parched and aching throat. Tossing aside his last meal, the King of the Scavengers gradually stretched to his full lanky height, taking a deep and shuddering breath.
Rot.
The heady stench of putrescent flesh seeped into his nostrils, and the Lord of Carrion smiled, staggering away from the bones of Man. The carrion birds descended upon the dulling bones as the primal god of aeons moved onward, his dead, vacant eyes set upon another feast, a lifeless body lying beneath a lifeless tree, nourishing only scavengers and Time.