"Care must be taken when removing the heart, to minimize trauma to the adjacent vessels," the dead priest Maledictus whispered as he lovingly cradled the mottled four-chambered vessel in his boney claws. On regular occasions, researchers of the Royal Apothecary Society gathered to share their findings.
A dozen studious-looking Forsaken had gathered in the Apothecarium, a section of Undercity. The subject of Maledictus' attention was an Abomination, a hulking humanoid amalgamation comprised of undulating mounds of undead flesh. Its chest cavity had been bloodlessly carved open by the priest via rusty saw, with the fawning attention to detail that an engineer might lavish upon a prized machine.
Maledictus held the heart muscle aloft, so that the Royal Apothecary Society researchers in attendance could better view it. "It beats in steady rhythm, devoid of bloodflow or sustenance."
The fleshy valves of the undead heart flapped listlessly, mechanically, driven by years of living muscle memory. With paternal pride he looked back at the unliving horror that comprised the Abomination, which -due to lack of necessity for blood circulation- was clearly able to survive excision of the heart.
The dead priest turned dispassionately to the nearby table where a struggling Human lay, cruelly wire-bound to the table by its wrists, ankles, and neck. Maledictus looked into the creature's eyes, savoring its hatred and fear as he might have enjoyed a glass of wine in his former life. "And here we have a lesser being, let us see how it copes with life's little surprises."
Without pause, the Forsaken thrust its clawed fingers into the chest cavity of the Human captive, groping messily among its contents. In a few seconds, Maledictus drew forth his hand, dragging the purplish, bloody heart with it, still raggedly attached to the major arteries and veins.
The doomed Human's body raged senselessly against its constrictures and as flesh shredded against the sharp wire, blood sprayed liberally against the onlookers and the walls of the chamber. The dying Human screamed an unknown epithet against his murderer, its echoes reverberating along the stone walls of Undercity.
Unmindful of its meaning, the dead priest Maledictus addressed the researchers, "Can you hear it? That is the eventual sound of Forsaken victory. It is a scream from Hell Itself. It is the sound of Hell's Scream." With the utterance of the name of the Horde's new warchief, Maledictus spat a gout of black bile into the the sucking chest wound of the dying Human. Garrosh Hellscream had insulted the honor of Queen Sylvanas, and imposed the yoke of oppression upon all inhabitants of the Undercity.
Several Forsaken onlookers glanced among themselves, shaking their heads and muttering about the recent trend of scientific research taking a back seat to political indulgence, but others nodded their agreement and muttered angrily, "Hellscream".
A dozen studious-looking Forsaken had gathered in the Apothecarium, a section of Undercity. The subject of Maledictus' attention was an Abomination, a hulking humanoid amalgamation comprised of undulating mounds of undead flesh. Its chest cavity had been bloodlessly carved open by the priest via rusty saw, with the fawning attention to detail that an engineer might lavish upon a prized machine.
Maledictus held the heart muscle aloft, so that the Royal Apothecary Society researchers in attendance could better view it. "It beats in steady rhythm, devoid of bloodflow or sustenance."
The fleshy valves of the undead heart flapped listlessly, mechanically, driven by years of living muscle memory. With paternal pride he looked back at the unliving horror that comprised the Abomination, which -due to lack of necessity for blood circulation- was clearly able to survive excision of the heart.
The dead priest turned dispassionately to the nearby table where a struggling Human lay, cruelly wire-bound to the table by its wrists, ankles, and neck. Maledictus looked into the creature's eyes, savoring its hatred and fear as he might have enjoyed a glass of wine in his former life. "And here we have a lesser being, let us see how it copes with life's little surprises."
Without pause, the Forsaken thrust its clawed fingers into the chest cavity of the Human captive, groping messily among its contents. In a few seconds, Maledictus drew forth his hand, dragging the purplish, bloody heart with it, still raggedly attached to the major arteries and veins.
The doomed Human's body raged senselessly against its constrictures and as flesh shredded against the sharp wire, blood sprayed liberally against the onlookers and the walls of the chamber. The dying Human screamed an unknown epithet against his murderer, its echoes reverberating along the stone walls of Undercity.
Unmindful of its meaning, the dead priest Maledictus addressed the researchers, "Can you hear it? That is the eventual sound of Forsaken victory. It is a scream from Hell Itself. It is the sound of Hell's Scream." With the utterance of the name of the Horde's new warchief, Maledictus spat a gout of black bile into the the sucking chest wound of the dying Human. Garrosh Hellscream had insulted the honor of Queen Sylvanas, and imposed the yoke of oppression upon all inhabitants of the Undercity.
Several Forsaken onlookers glanced among themselves, shaking their heads and muttering about the recent trend of scientific research taking a back seat to political indulgence, but others nodded their agreement and muttered angrily, "Hellscream".
Edited by Maledictus on 12/19/2010 12:47 AM PST
