“Nice night for a black wedding, don’t you agree?” grinned
Kain Venomtongue as he gently caressed Sheryl Sweet’s ball-gagged face with the
back of his fingers. The frigid wind brushed its way across the top of the
ziggurat and lifted Sheryl’s wedding dress a few inches. With her wrists and
ankles bound to a horizontal metal cross, the dress would be the only thing
flying free that night. Standing on either side of the temple stairs was a
chorus of anthropomorphic cobras reciting hymns and flicking their tongues. The
groom-to-be looked every bit as serpentine as his brethren with his monstrous
face and green scaly flesh, most of which was covered by a dark sorcerer’s
robe.
Sheryl Sweet struggled in her bindings and let out a few
“Mmph’s” through her gag, but not even a barbarian’s strength could unseal her
fate. The bride’s wide eyes and hysteria remained a stark contrast to Kain’s
villainous smile as the necromancer pulled a jagged blade from his robes and
recited hymns alongside the snake men. “Ashes to ashes,” he chanted. “Dust to
dust. We are forever bound by Satan’s flames. Not even God nor his angels shall
interfere with this dark marriage. Those who dare ascend the staircase invite
the stench of death itself. If any mere mortal wishes to object to this sacred
tradition, speak now or forever hold your tongue!”
As if on cue, a sharp steel presence descended from the
night sky and slashed one of the snake men in half vertically, sending a storm
of blood across the staircase and prompting Sheryl Sweet to scream like a mad
woman possessed. “What the hell is this?!” Kain shouted, to which a blur of
surgical steel whirred across the staircase, shredding, eviscerating, and
disemboweling any snake monk in its path. Slithering screams echoed across the
starlit night as the bloody rain continued to descend down the ziggurat. Pieces
of flesh were carried away by the evening breeze. Organs sloshed and splashed
until the satanic structure resembled a slaughterhouse. Every cobra minion lay
in pieces with those fortunate enough to be alive regretting their decision to
live.
Sheryl gazed in wide-eyed horror at the violence before her.
Her ghostly shrieks were reduced to sobbing whimpers. Kain brushed her face
with his fingertips and whispered, “Don’t worry, my love. This ceremony shall
continue one way or another.” His promise to the bride was sealed with a
delicate kiss on her sweaty forehead. He even licked one of her tears away, but
once that was gone, more came flooding down her face.
The “tender” moment was interrupted by the sounds of a bird
warrior pantomiming vomiting. The owner of the tainted blade knelt at the top
of the staircase to further his act before breathing heavily and wiping his
mouth off with his feathered arm. The bird man rose to his feet and revealed
himself to be wearing red and blue ninja gear, which complimented his golden
(albeit bloody) feathers.
“Just when I thought I couldn’t get any more nauseated, you
go and pull that shit,” barked the bird man while accusingly pointing his blade
at Kain. “There ain’t going to be no black wedding or dark marriage or whatever
the fuck this is called. I’m Ronan Crow and it’s my job to bring the woman back
home where she belongs. So unless you want to get force fucked with three feet
of steel, I believe now is the time to remove her bindings. And for fuck’s
sake, take that disgusting gag out of her mouth!”
Kain Venomtongue took a deep swallow, held his hands up
defensively, and pleaded, “I think you’re making a big mistake, my friend.”
“No!” Ronan belted. “You made the mistake of bringing this
bitch out here and trying to marry her! Look at her, she’s fucking terrified!
It’s men like you that make me afraid to have daughters of my own! Come on,
Miss Sweet, you’re coming back home to the king.” With Kain backing up several
feet, Ronan approached the metal cross and slashed the bindings off in quick
fashion.
Sheryl stood up and removed her ball gag before shaking her
head at Ronan and shoving him lightly. “Are you fucking insane?!”
“You’re welcome, by the way,” said a silver-tongued Ronan. “Now
hurry up and get on my back before Kain Slobbertongue over here takes three
more Viagra and makes a move on you again.”
Sheryl slapped the bird warrior across the face and said,
“You’re an idiot! You’re a goddamn idiot! This whole black wedding was my
idea!”
“You’re kidding me…” said Ronan with wide eyes.
“No, I’m not!” shouted Sheryl while stomping her foot. “When
you bring me back to my father’s castle, what do you think is going to happen?
He’s just going to marry me off to some loser so that he can have more land and
more riches for himself! I chose Kain over here because he’s a true gentleman!
He’s fun! He’s adventurous! And kinky as hell! I mean, look at him!”
“Yeah, I’m looking at him alright. He’s definitely a catch.
I don’t know how anybody could pass up a handsome stud like that,” said Ronan,
oozing with sarcasm and shaking his sword at the necromancer.
“Oh, this?” asked Kain nervously. “This isn’t my real face.
It’s just makeup.” He wiped away his scaly face and skin with the sleeve of his
robe to reveal a youthful elf underneath with flowing black hair, golden
piercings, and a soul patch underneath his chin. “And just so you know, those
snakes you killed weren’t really snakes at all. Those were my friends. They too
were wearing makeup and costumes. The black wedding theme was mostly their
idea. And Sheryl’s too since she’s really into bondage.” Sheryl giggled and
blushed at that last comment.
“Well, if you miss your wonderful fucking friends that much,
why don’t you bring them back to life or some shit like that. You’re a
necromancer. Do something!” yelled Ronan.
“Congratulations, bird brain,” said Sheryl while pointing a
finger in Ronan’s face. “You proved once again that you have the IQ of an
orange peel. Kain isn’t a necromancer, dummy. He’s a neck romancer. See?
There’s a difference.” She brushed back her raven hair to reveal a hickey on
the side of her neck.
Ronan roared like a lion before shoving his sword into the
floor and belting, “Enough! Enough of this bullshit! The two of you make me
fucking sick to my stomach! Why in the hell would anybody think hickeys and
ball gags and crucifixions are sexy?! What woman on the face of this earth
actually gets wet to something like that?! What grown man would ever get a
hard-on to it?! This is some fucked up repugnant shit right here! I ought to
kill both of you right now and spare the king the disappointment in having a
bratty daughter!”
“Listen to me, you dumb shit!” shouted Sheryl as she pointed
a finger in his chest.
“Back off, bitch!” barked Ronan while swatting her down on
the floor with his feathery arm. Kain tried to rush him, but the bird warrior
pulled out his sword and held him at distance. The “neck romancer” could smell
the vile stench of blood radiating off of that horrible weapon. “You are a sick
little turd, Kain Venomtongue. You’re a pervert and you’re probably a pedophile
too! Maybe you shouldn’t take Sheryl home with you anyways! I’m pretty sure
she’s too old for you!”
Kain dropped to his knees and recited a Satanic prayer
before Ronan tapped his head with the flat end of his blade and said, “Oh no,
buddy! None of that hocus pocus shit is going to save you now! You’re dead, you
filthy creepy! You’re goddamn dead!”
Kain tucked his head further into his chest ready for death
to come take him away. He could hear the sword wooshing around in the air and
it made his heart beat faster and his blood run cold. His forehead sweated
profusely, but he continued to pray to his demonic god. The close the blade
came to touching his face, the louder his prayers. With one last “amen”, the
sword was ready to come down on his neck.
The woosh of steel slashing was replaced with a heavy thud
followed by avian feet shuffling about. Kain lifted his head up and breathed a
sigh of relief when he saw Ronan Crow, with a lump on his head, rolling and
tripping down the ziggurat stairs. Bones cracked, feathers flew, and squawks
created a symphony of cacophony across the empty sky. These satisfyingly
violent sounds went on for as long as the stairs would allow them to. And then
there was silence; complete deathly silence, save for one final squawk until
Ronan came face to face with Satan himself.
Kain grinned at the sight of his lover holding her ball gag
like a pair of brass knuckles. The feathers and blood pasted to the rubber ball
were badges of honor to her and proof she was no damsel in distress. Kain
happily leapt to his feet and hugged his bride, though she responded with tears
instead of reciprocated happiness.
“He ruined our wedding, Kain. He fucking ruined it,” Sheryl
sobbed.
“Forget the wedding, my darling,” slithered Kain. “A wedding
is just an event. True love can never be broken apart.” He kissed her forehead
and said, “I’m proud of you, sweetheart.” The two of them made out together
before Kain said in between kisses, “Darling…you were wonderful tonight!”
