skxrbrand

[skxrbrand]

" A common mortal endeavor, for all it does not solve." The Daemon commented. Her lamentations make him curl a lip, both at the percieved weakness and the dull echoes of his own unvoiced want and regrets. He bristles.

" You cannot. This is the path. Perhaps you chose it, perhaps you were forced to it. But this is the path."

" Nothing less than the greater powers can help you, and their help does not come without copious sacrifice."

Margaret, unsurprisingly, recoils and stares at the daemon agawk with heavy concern.

"Since when did peelin' off anyone's face evah solve anythin'?! Like hell I will!"

She then takes a breath, rubbing a claw down her face in exasperation. Leave it to the red boys to give the most extreme suggestions. It was nothing new! Why was she even surprised??

"I jus' wanna turn back. If dat's... even possible fo' me at dis point. Bloodshed's cool n' all, but I ain't really a 'run on my hands n' feet' kind 'o gal. I'd ratha have my bat t' knock someone's brains out.

...Y' got a 'fix it' potion at all? Y'know... somethin' dat won't gimmie a virus?"

[skxrbrand]

no wonder he broke your hip holy shit

" The Tempter is tall, but light, as a pheasant."

[skxrbrand]

I can still taste him. His blood lingers on my fangs.

Even with the many dead around him. Skarbrand sits, covered in daemon and mortal gore, a one man army decimator. Despite his frustrations and how deeply his bloodlust had been indulged, the desire for the Keeper's blood remains.

Only pride keeps him from seeking it.

[skxrbrand]

"Can you PLEASE refrain from using me ship as your own backscratcher and personal play toy! I am TIRED of getting up to the stench of blood and gore on the hull, I thought I had persuaded you otherwise with the men I gave you from the brig!" From Hook

" As if your screw smells much better. I can sense them, even at the hull. Surrounded by water, yet they reek of decay."

" My blood-musk should be a welcome change, for variety's sake if no other reason, sea-farer."

[skxrbrand]

" With axe, claw, fang. We are the headsmen; the takers of Skulls."

" It is the only true way to kill. The rest is dishonor."

bare her teeth, look them in the eyes. All her life, she had her elders be the face of death & she the tool to be used. After all, its the holder of the weapon that kills. But now on her own, she held a weapon.

❝ hm...you have a fair point, deamon. Then do tell me, how do YOU execute? ❞

[skxrbrand]

hehehehe

[skxrbrand]

" You are both brats. Precious little godly favorites."

"Only the best for my rotten little brat." N'kari mutters. "He doesn't wish to see his Father, but I have to see mine to get him a gift. I do spoil him."

[skxrbrand]

I need you guys to realize just how fucking BIG this fucking crab is

not a wip, just a fun lil doodle

[skxrbrand]

" Blood is blood. Skulls are skulls. But Shalaxi's will have more meaning than Ka'Bandha's. The Reaper is no Rival to the hunter."

N'kari's face twists into a grimace. Shalaxi may not be Slaanesh's favorite, but they are always busy with his Prince's tasks. To slay them would be to delay Slaanesh's plans.

"Could I kill the Khornate equivalent? Ka'Bandha for example. Would that not be more impressive?" He tries.

[skxrbrand]

" Clean skulls. Undamaged."

Khazaan pulls the plate near him with a talon, " And you will have to discover that for yourself. We are the enemies of life, Slaaneshi. Any worthy foe would do, but a particular rival...."

A pause. He looks at N'kari, perked up.

" Kill Shalaxi."

"What foes does Skarbrand have that he has not already slain?" N'kari frowns. "I know one, but how many is enough?"

"Does the method of killing matter? Should I leave the skulls for him to flay? What are the unspoken rules?"

[skxrbrand]

" You've angered Skarbrand." Always a straight-shooter, the Gorger of Gore is.

" Only Blood can appease our anger. Copious amounts of it. Find out who his foes are and bring him their heads. Slay them in the Reaper's name."

"A betrayal of trust." N'kari repeats, unwilling to elaborate. "Does the manner of the wrongdoing change the method for reconciliation?"

[skxrbrand]

big sigh

[skxrbrand]

" Hypothetically?" Khazaan could not hide his humor at yet another spat between his master and the Tempter.

He only looks briefly at the food. Maybe he's already eaten?

"What have you gone and ruined now, N'kari?"

@skxrbrand at khaz

“Hypothetically, if I was selfish and betrayed the trust of a close khornate companion, what action should I take to ask for forgiveness?”

N’kari holds his bribe hostage, a gleaming silver platter that smells of roasted fat and charred flesh.

[skxrbrand]

Terry just be like "Are you afraid of relationships or something?"

" I am not afraid of anything."

[skxrbrand]

“Wait, that’s not what I meant-“

But…it had been what he meant. He had only sought to convince Skarbrand of lust fueled battle for his own gratification.

Guilt chew at the edges of his mind.

…

Skarbrand knew what a slaaneshi is, and still chose him as a partner! This is something the reaper should expect. N’kari isn’t responsible for being true to his own nature. He’s not ashamed of being a slaaneshi!

And yet…

[skxrbrand]

The movement from N'kari seems to break whatever comes over the Reaper. He starts, as if spooked, then angles his ears back.

Skarbrand backs of, slithering off of the Keeper and leaving a stick trail of unfulfilled desire in his wake. But by the way he holds himself, that desire only reaches so far.

Skarbrand leeches irritation into the air. " There can be great pleasure in being denied." He says with a simmering malice.

Without another word, he gathers up his axes and puts himself away, the raw need of arousal still abound in his veins. He recalls their earlier conversation about frustration and how it might be vented. The look he shoots N'kari is poison.

" If you are a good bitch in truth, don't come nipping at my heels, Arch-Tempter."

The Reaper make's for the chambers exit.

N’kari had thought he succeeded when claws dig into his hip and Skarbrand’s member flops on his back.

But then there was silence. It went on for a bit too long.

His tongue flickers out tasting a confusing mix of emotions from the air. N’kari glances back at the frozen reaper.

Oh dear. This is clearly too much for the virginal Skarbrand. While he was pleased that Skarbrand held such respect for him, it is currently a mood killer.

He straightens up, the weeping member leaving a trail down his back.

“I changed my mind! We can do the maw game. You like the maw game.” He tries.

[skxrbrand]

The messages are dueling. Skarbrand isn't sure which one is the true message. With N'kari's state, it's entirely possible both are false. Or fact.

The Keeper backs into him and he stands straighter, revulsed, surprised, enticed. When did his hands slide down to N'kari's hips? He blinks at the new grip his has on his foe, only distracted by the words coming from him. The grip becomes clawed and bloody.

To be such a weapon, yet mewl like a mortal wench in a Sartosian pleasure den. Now as then, the Reaper is unable to reconcile the two. At least mentally. His body, on the other hand, is not interested in denial and primed to give the Keeper was he begs for.

The Reaper is frozen in conflict, nostrils flaring and teeth cinched in an ugly sneer. Meanwhile, his throbbing and very much not undecided cock sits impatiently between N'kari's rump, leaking on the small of his back.

N'kari's ecstatic cries stops as he considers his beloved's words.

There can be great pleasure in being denied. The role would be much more enjoyable with the old Khxanzyr, who's disgust for the slaaneshi are based more on their sexual nature. He could say "whore" with so much feeling. But that barge had sailed.

Skarbrand had always care more about strength than what the Slaaneshi do in bed. But there's no harm in trying. Perhaps Skarbrand would surprise him.

"No please!" He cries out pathetically, deliberately pushing his rear against the reaper's growing excitement. "Please do not leave me to my shameful need."

"See how I strain forward, desperate for a single touch. I burn within, a bitch in heat left panting for the master’s command, ready to be used. Show me your disdain, make me earn even the barest crumb of attention."

"Press me low, let me feel the weight of your hoof—remind me that I am beneath you, a worthless thing of disgust and hunger. Let me be your rag, your spoil, your lowly bitch begging for your seed."