Sarpedon

The great pirate era. (Sanquin/Sarpedon)

phew! I had a bit of breakdown while the page loaded. I thought I had fucked something else up. You're gunna give me ptsd or some shit, woman :P

Tales of Eyreseum - The False King

The violence was glorious. The arterial spray was a cathartic release that the weapon had not expected for a very long time. The relief was blissful, but when his wielder did not cease the senseless murdering, the entirely uncalled-for slaughter of her friends and relatives, Gram felt his strength returning. He felt the pit of rage, that tiny, blazing star of hate filling with power. There was no better feeling, than that of hot blood, spilled from the heart of some poor bastard, running down his length, the ruddy fluid coating him in its coppery tang. A sword could know no greater ecstasy than that of being shoved to the hilt into an enemy, of being soaked in the vitality of those that were not its wielder. Surtr Nothung knew such pleasure once more, and the weapon cried out in victory.

The fire that bathed the blade and its wielder faded away as the pair observed their victory. This woman had vanquished her enemies, and seen them driven before her. All she was missing was the sound of their women lamenting. He supposed she also missed her opportunity to enslave the survivors, but he didn't much care about that. The weapon only wanted to deal death and taste the end of life. What went on in between wasn't really his concern. Being a sword, there was not much else to be concerned about. "You did it." Gram encouraged as Tikki observed what she had done. "It was gorgeous. Glorious. You're a hero now!" the blade praised the woman who gripped it, but it was quickly realizing that she wasn't going to be too happy about things, if the tears in her eyes were any indication. She had slain her own family, after all. That was okay, though, that just gave her less reason to go back to them. Now she could safely wander the world, and become a peerless warrior. Or find him one. Either way, Surtr was not about to fade into history so soon. He wanted to be the weapon of the world's deadliest warrior. If that was not this slip of thing, the bird-girl adventurer who had taken things to far, well, that wasn't his problem.

"This is your chance, my dear. Your opportunity! Excelsior! Carpe diem! Carry this victory onward! Let us rout the world with our might! Bathe me in enough blood, and you'll be invincible! Immortal! Keep going, and I can grant you any wish!" the blade was straight up lying at his point. It had worked before, so it saw no reason to not try it again. Every adventure seemed to start this way, with the delectable slaughter of an innocent family. Their succulent flesh rent asunder by the unstoppable weapon. An act so horrible that his wielder saw no reason to even try to repent. And his promise of wishes was a good one. Hoping for the impossible, the one who held the blade would slaughter hundreds, thousands, trying to bring them all back to life. And with a little encouragement. One more soul! Two more souls, and I can do it all! they would continue forever. Nothung would never be satisfied, though. And it would never have enough souls to bring those it had slain back to life.

No one had to know that, though. They just had to swing him in anger. As long as the blade flashed through the air on wings of rage, as long as its fire burned with hatred and blood was spilled in the name of anything, the sword was unstoppable. All it took was a little push. Once his wielder began to descend into madness, everything else would just fall into place, like the necks of the damned, awaiting execution...

The great pirate era. (Sanquin/Sarpedon)

Octavius would never give up. Never. Not in a trillion years would the idea of defeat ever occur to him. He'd lost last time after an army's worth of men had died in a whole host of horrible ways. No one had died yet, and the captain was more than happy to expire, rather than lose. Of course, then Ceres accused him of falling behind. That wasn't acceptable. Captain Cuttlam wasn't a notorious pirate lord for nothing. So when his first mate made fun of him, the warlord when into overdrive, chugging the remainder of his tankard, and refilling the vessel for another go. But he didn't stop there like his opponent did. He didn't need rest, he needed victory. His flagon got refilled, and the pirate continued drinking. He had to pause after his next one, but only long enough to deal with more of Ceres' taunts. "I... Nevah geev ut!" he growled, swinging his empty mug defiantly and refilling it again. "Nah... Nah hoos beh- hine?" he taunted right back, throwing back his next tankard's worth of ale and using his new-found anger to focus. He followed the little rage-crumb trail back to the tiny, incredibly dense star that was his pool of anger, and he used his drunken imagination to turn that little star into a cutlass he could use to fend off the drunken stupor that was overwhelming him. Powered by hate and violence, Octavius continued to drink, keeping his feet through sheer force of will and his desire for victory. He muttered something unintelligible as he moved for the cask once more, his determination seeming to be inhuman...

The great pirate era. (Sanquin/Sarpedon)

Octavius wasn't sure what to do now. Ceres seemed to still be going strong, said something about being alive and kicking after twenty. That was a lot of alcohol, and he wasn't sure such a thing was possible for him at this point. He'd gotten this far, beaten everyone else, and things were looking good. But he still had to get past Ceres, and she was looking a lot better off than he felt. She declared that there was no shame in losing, but the warlord didn't see it that way. He couldn't see any situation where losing was acceptable. How were people to respect him if he lost? He couldn't lead by example if he wasn't the best. The pirate mustered all of his strength and kept going, determined not to lose. "I..." he found his beer-addled mind was having trouble thinking, but he had no problem focusing on victory. "Nod, gunna... Loose." he managed to declare, wondering how he was going to power through another six or so tankards full of ale.

It didn't matter what the woman said, she wasn't going to convince the captain to give in. Being a pirate lord meant being a formidable warrior, a shrewd negotiator, and an indomitable drinker. The first two were easy enough, having come back with a little practice. But Captain Cuttlam found his liver wasn't quite as eager to jump back into the fray. That didn't stop him from forcing it to, but it did mean that the process was a bit less pleasant than it could have been. Surprisingly, though, he kept his feet better than expected, and managed to keep up with his competitor, despite her obviously superior drinking ability. That was probably only because she was downing them so quickly, though, pumping all of the alcohol into her system, and moving on before it could really start to react. Once it really hit her, Octavius was sure she would drop like a rock, leaving him standing alone as the victor. It was just a matter of using his supposedly-superior endurance. This contest was going to turn into a long game pretty quickly, he figured, since he couldn't quit. Just hold on... he told himself. She can't drink forever! he managed to convince himself that she wasn't cheating, and that Ceres would have to give out first. If she was cheating, he supposed he could always see if the mariner was right the first time...

Tales of Eyreseum - The False King

always!

Tales of Eyreseum - The False King

Just the way I like 'em ;)

Tales of Eyreseum - The False King

She's all tied up and everything. dayum...

Tales of Eyreseum - The False King

it's German you backwards motherfucker! XD wonderwoman is probably better thought, she's definitely more attractive...

Tales of Eyreseum - The False King

Wonderbar!

Tales of Eyreseum - The False King

that'd be wonderful b'y