Blood Demon’s Crazed March.

His Dance. A Dance that he had long practiced. The mnemonics filling his mind, continuous chanting drowning his senses.

Like he had done every day for the past 10 years he slipped away into his own world. With his eyes closed, his view turned crimson, the colour of blood. Sinking slowly into the crimson depths, all distractions falling away, Toale entered into an ethereal state. Rage, Slaughter, Blood and Destruction. The memories of the Hunts, the memories of the crazed killings he had witnessed, the memories of the blood that had been spilled surfaced. They flashed by, repeating with increasing frequency, each revolution causing his breathing to become more and more ragged. As he sunk into this abyss of death his body started swaying.

Faster and faster, matching the rhythm of his memories. His heart pumped harder, and with each circulation his body felt as if it was burning. It was euphoric, the feeling of rage of unrestrained slaughter of killing and moving unfettered. As he entered this berserk state his body started following the forms of the Dance. The pace ever quickening.

Watching the youth before him, Sheart sighed with amazement. He had seen many going through their awakenings as a priest and had watched many Dances. These inherited forms were secret and priests had to be trustworthy in order to be allowed to witness them. However, compared to others this Dance before him was awe inspiring, even to an experienced person like him. Savagery and brutality where ingrained within the movements. Filled with a power and ferocity as if seeking to rip apart the world around him. Yet as the muscled body swayed in front of him, it was filled with a wild and majestic beauty; indomitable arrogance.

Sensing the Dance reaching the climax, Sheart drew out a strange long handled awl. The awl was hollow, with a tunnel forming from its tip to the pommel. It was covered in mystical patterns that radiated a sense of power - a runic artifact. As he grasped the hilt the runes on the weapon synergized with his tatoos lighting up as a blood red rune formed in front of him. The rune danced through the air as if it contained intelligence before slowly landing on the hilt of the awl. In response the carvings on the weapon wriggled, as if alive, and like baby snakes they moved to surround and isolate the addition, feeding off its power.

Stepping forward, Sheart thrust the point, accurately piercing Toales’ heart. Entranced in the dance and under the influence of the pain killing incense, Toale continued the Dance, none the wiser, the forms stimulating his heart to pump blood faster. Seeing his blow had landed, Sheart reached for the ornate bowl, using it to catch the blood that continuously dripped through the tunnel in the artifact.

The crimson drops fell without end, the heart's blood accumulating in the bowl maintaining a crystalline appearance. If held still it would pass as a flawless and priceless gem or the most exquisite of wines. Indeed there were many who did consume heart's blood and considered it a delicacy. As his blood was pushed out by the incessant pumping of his heart, Toales face gradually grew paler and paler, his Dance no longer filled with grace but a stuttering frailness. His forms no longer forceful but listless as his body weakened from the loss of blood.

“Thats enough.” seeing the situation, Sheart tapped the rune on the awls hilt activating it. The rune suddenly exploded with an extraordinary splendor, lighting the carvings on the awl up in response. The patterns started pulsing, wormlike in appearance, they consumed the power of the rune, transferring its healing prowess through the hilt to Toales heart. As the awl was slowly withdrawn, Toales heart and injured chest mystically closed up, leaving only a pale star shaped scar as the only reminder that there ever was a wound.

Breaking out of the trance abruptly, Toale looked around for a moment in confusion. The incense had caused him to lose his sense of self and sink into carnage and the abrupt exit had confused him. Almost tripping over, Toale searched for balance, filled with surprise with his bodies weakness. It was at this moment that he caught sight of the ornate bowl before him, filled to the brim with a thick viscous liquid. Crimson and bright, the blood seemed as if it was alive with a glow that brimmed with vitality. It took only a moment for Toale to recall that this was the results of Blood Letting.

Sparing a glance for the awl in Shearts’ hand, Toale grasped the sides of the ornate bowl as he focused. He watched with unguarded interest as Sheart took the awl and used it to slice his own palm. The blood that dripped hovered in the air forming a globe. The blood started moving in a predetermined pattern, following the directions given by Sheart’s chanting. As it moved the sphere of blood grew smaller in volume, a trail being left behind its path. The resulting mystical diagram formed from the bloody trail of the blood globe sparkled with a magical luster before falling into the bowl held in Toales hands.

The presence of the bloody array provoked a violent reaction from the originally inanimate bowl of hearts blood. The blood burst into a crimson flame. It burned furiously as it fought against the magical array. The violent reaction caused Shearts brows to furrow as beads of sweat permeated his skin, giving his body an oily sheen. He had never seen such a reaction. The purpose of the array was to wake the bloods innate form, to cause it to form into the shape that most suited it, the shape that had been engraved into its blood memory. Yet the blood in the bowl had burst into flames before even being touched by the magical symbol.

As the blood burned it gave rise to a black smoke. Strangely the smoke seemed as if it was greasy and let off a the scent of sewage and faeces. Faced with this, Sheart’s face twisted in unprecedented surprise.

His blood is burning off impurities? It’s impossible, only Dances are capable of doing so!

Faced with this situation, Sheart withdrew blood array as he watched in fascination. Despite having lost the provocation of the array, the blood in the bowl continuously fell in volume, its colour deepening without end and its luster growing ever prominent. Eventually, the black smoke ended. The remaining blood compressed upon itself. No longer was it liquid or viscous but took upon the form of precious jade. The rapidly hardening blood twisted and danced in mid air as it spun continuously.

What appeared was a Bloody Sun. The rune was circular and flat, around its edges where wavey spikes that moved hypnotically, radiating a sense of power that caused the viewer's blood to boil.

The 10 wavey spikes!

A Bloody Sun!

As it silently burned midair, the wide eyed stares of Graveth, Sheart and Toale remained glued upon it.