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Mordrys Black

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About Mordrys Black

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  1. The look she gave Winter was made of daggers, she didn't like being tested, especially by the likes of him. She faced the priest and started to walk toward him the sway of her hips exaggerated. "Guest? Not worshiper's?" She swayed to an inner music playing in her head, her eyes taking in the details of the church, taking the measure of the man before her. "After all if those who come here are your guests then as such obligation is yours, but if worshipers then obligation is between the god and the supplicant. Odd." She took a step. " Choice." Then another. "Of." She stopped. "Word. Don't you think?" The last She asked over her shoulder at Winter who merely shrugged. Mordrys looked at the priest now that she was closer He didn't look like a monster. She looked into his eyes wanting to find something horrible wanted to see what he was hiding in his dark little mind. "So you hungry? Who's for dinner?"
  2. Mordrys paused and slowly her lips bent upward into a very disturbing smile. "What," asked Winter "Punishing the cannibal is fine but we must not lose our sense of purpose. His death at our hand must not lose context or it will just be seen as an unfortunate albeit terrible murder in a city overwhelmed by such. No we must show the world and those grieving families that their hope was misplaced in the anointed of their religion. That the hope that they placed in this mortal monster was misguided and that the only true respite from the despair of death is the embracement of Oblivion." She sticks the end of a red twizzler between her black lips and takes a bite. "Shall we?"
  3. Mordrys picks up the soft cloth which had been draped over the arm of the chair she was sitting on, and began wiping the strings of her bass, more from habit than from any real necessity. “You would not understand, Winter, the need for that hope the struggle each of them goes through. I will raise them, teach them, give them that hope we both so despise. Then just when their dreams are close enough to touch I will snatch them away and crush them and then, only then, will they understand what I sing of what it means and then they will be mine forever, and we will bring civilization to its knees and feed it to Oblivion.” She stands and places the instrument gently in its hard shell case which she closes and locks. “Where you kill one or a dozen or a hundred maybe even a thousand, we will end millions when the time is right.” “So,” she said as she slips on her leather jacket while walking into the kitchenette. “This priest you want to kill, he is only a priest?” She opens a drawer and pulls out a meat cleaver, looks at it but shakes her head and sets it aside then pulls two large kitchen knives out. “Yes these will do. So this priest, why do you need me?”
  4. The fringe of society. Poverty stricken, crime ridden, abused by those you should be able to trust and those who are supposed to protect. Lives of despair. Unwanted runaways lost in the gutters of a society that doesn't care. The woman now known as Mordrys Black was one of those, a young girl, scraping by on the streets of this dismal city how ever she could. As hopeless as life was, she had Hope. She saw the better life the skyscrapers, the people with clean new clothes and full belly's, beautiful women in dresses who didn't have to sell themselves for a meal, handsome strong men to protect them, care for them, love them. Hope kept her alive and on the streets she did what she had to knowing that one day she would wear those dresses and be loved. The streets were full of youthful rebellion gangs ravaged districts and police smashed heads. But a different rebellion also fomented. The rebellion of music. Harsh, loud, and lewd. Music drew the young people together and music moved and drove them gave them some semblance of meaning, belonging. Punk, rock, rap, and Metal. Metal of all types from the thrash of heavy Metal to the sludge of Doom and all in between. Running with the bands was better than whoring in the streets even if the only difference was where the deed was done. She gravitated to the heavier wilder sounds. First Punk but that was to chaotic and purposeless then through the genre's of metal until she found Death Metal. The bands were musically talented, the themes spoke to her. One day a friend brought her to a new hangout where a new band was practicing. She listen to them and liked the music but the singer was weak and after one song she broke out laughing at the poor performance of the singer. The boy grew angry when his band mates didn't back him up and he threw the microphone at the girl, yelling, “You think you can do better?” She caught the microphone out of the air and with a scowl said “Yes I can.” The band started and she sang, a death metal growl that rivaled anything the big name bands had and she had no training. The defrocked singer slunk away his gig lost to an unknown street girl. She embraced her new role and hope burned bright for her. She sang at parties then the band played clubs. She learned to sing properly to throw the death growl with the best of them. She was different than the other girl growlers. Even though she was extremely good looking she didn't emphasize that she dressed like the rest of the band not in the skimpy shorts and t-shirts with strategic rips the other girl singers wore, her sex wasn't part of the band her voice was and the kids reacted to that. The band became popular hundreds then thousands would come to see them hear her growl. Her Hopes were coming to fruition. Then she learned the awful truth. Hope is a lie The biggest open air concert of the hot summer. Her band was one of the headlining groups. They weren't political, they had no agenda. But the terrorists struck that day regardless. Waited for her and the band to take the stage. Didn't matter what their cause was or whether they were really terrorists or maybe some other group. They struck with machine guns and knives and bombs, Hundreds died, hundreds more were wounded. They struck at the stage with gunfire and bombs. When the police and the anti- terrorist soldiers arrived their bullets added to the carnage indiscriminately, killing terrorist and concert goer alike. Hope died. She lay there on the broken and burning stage, her band dead all around her killed by bullets and blown apart by bomb blasts. Her blood seeped from her bullet ridden and burned body her eyes staring at the remains of her dreams... her hopes, within her reach, snatched away. No one could believe that she had survived when so many died no one doubted that she had purpose and her role for them was unfinished. Like a phoenix she rose from the ashes that created her she changed her name, became Mordrys Black. A new band was formed, The Days Of The End, and they began their conquest anew... Sheet
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