A Cauldron of Blood

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A Cauldron of Blood Empty A Cauldron of Blood

Post by A Pimp Called Rapha on Sun Mar 23, 2014 1:35 am

Oh how my rampant desire, ripped from the presence of God now hungered like a beast for the knowledge of evil.

Once again the shrine had the delightful stench of an abattoir, the fire licked around the base of the iron cauldron as the blood and flesh of the sacrifice rendered down into a paste usable for the ritual. The smell drew out the Beast but there had been more than enough blood in the woman to keep in it check without risking the integrity of the ritual.

"Oggun bring structure to this forging and might to all that it may be used for! Ochun give aid and extend the blessings of control to those who must join me in this course! May the eyes of the Orishas find pleasure in the sight of the feast laid before them. May they find strength in the life that is given as a gift to their memory. If you approve of this offering by one who has taken up the throne in your honor mighty spirits, then grant favorable course to this work that it may bring power to those worthy of the wielding!"

Rapha turned from the fire to take up the tools he would need. The bottle still half full of rum to delight the ancestors, the beads to draw the eyes of the Orishas to his dance and the woman whose blood would fill his vampiric anatomy with the sensations of the drugs long lost to him without a vessel. "Worry not my dear you are still of more use to me as a conduit for what must be called upon here than a sacrifice to the Orishas. But remember what you have seen of those who are not of any use."

He drank deep of her tainted blood and the dance began. She danced with him for a time, her hair like fire filling the air above the cauldron, but it was not long before the drugs raging through what was left of her blood took hold and she staggered to the dirty cot that she slept on so that unconsciousness could set her free. Raphael paused a moment to lock himself inside the shrine before he resumed the dance that must last until the exhausted sleep of dawn claimed him and the fire had burnt out.
A Pimp Called Rapha
A Pimp Called Rapha

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