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Post by August Krasnow on Dec 27, 2009 7:05:56 GMT
Since the dawn of civilization, there has always existed those special individuals that opperate under the cloak of shadows in order to run the world as they saw fit. They were and are always people of prestige, class, and social dominance. Kings and dignitaries, social elites and wealthy entrepreneurs, men of class and education that sought to use their intellectual prowess to create a world that better suited their lifestyles. Sometimes these clandestine societies were sinister in nature, a cloak and dagger fringe that operated to remove anyone that could prove troublesome towards their rise to power or continual dominance; while others operated harmlessly and or the benefit of men and intelligent beast. Yet, no matter their true intentions, those not within the circles of power saw these secret societies as sinister villains that lurked in the shadows, performing dark rituals that they believed would grant them powers from beyond this realm. August is apart of one of these secret societies, one that hails as its members the elite of the elite, nobles and aristocracy of the highest caliber. Brought in by his father at eighteen, he’s spent ten years perfecting his craft under the streets of Treno where his clandestine society met to discuss.
He is part of the Brotherhood of The Temple's Architect, an elite secret society of ancient and mysterious origins, whose ranks are littered with the elite men of society. This night is one of their meetings, one August refused to miss even if he is on vacation. He especially made arrangements to be here for their clandestine meeting in the secret catacombs of Treno. Tonight was a special night for August, tonight he would reach a new degree on his path of illumination. He’d unlock those secrets which his brotherhood holds, granting him new strength and governance over the forces that his society sought to control. Years of study, ceremony, and dedication to the Brotherhood will finally pay off in a manner more then networking and social power – tonight he’d finally achieve concert power through the sect.
August arrived in the city in the late evening – though not like time of day mattered, it was always late evening here. The airship landed just outside the city, from where he was escorted by Kane till he reached the dark passage that lead to his order’s meeting place. From here, he left Kane to remain diligent in his duties till he returned later in the evening. Passing through the shadowy corridors, dark recesses, secret doors, and secret passageways, he came to the place where his order met under the city center. He passes through a guarded doorway to a place surrounded by the falling water from the canals above, situated around a single altar adorned with five lit candles and an open book. High back chairs circles around the later with a prominent chair situated in the eastern section, above which shone the symbol of a rising sun below a single eye that resonates with illuminating light upon all those below. Other men of affluence meandered around, chatting and interacting in the ceremonial garb, waiting or their master to bring them to order. Upon entering here, August dons his own ceremonial slash that wraps around his waist and diagonally over his chest and shoulder. It’s white with a blue streak through it and embroidered with gold thread along the sides. It’s made of lamb’s skin and linen with various odd symbols that are sewn into the fabric, similar in nature to what the others wear, just marked in a slightly different assortment of symbols. He greets the other brothers, some comment on the death of his father, a long term member of the order and once master of their lodge. He thanks them for their concern, but quickly changes the subject to something less controversial.
After several minutes of mingling, a man in a fine suit, his head adorned with a top-hat and wearing a very grand and ornate sash emerges and takes a position in front of the most prominent seat in the east. The congregation silences upon his appearance, quickly choosing seats that line around the altar in the center. They stand, looking towards their master in the east, and wait for the gavel in his hand to slam down once.
”I bring tonight’s meeting into order in the seventh degree. Warden, are all those assembled in proper order and standing.”
A man in the west nods, making a symbol with his arms as he addresses the chair. “All assembled are within order, worshipful.”
The gavel strikes twice, and all those assembled sit. “Then I bring this meeting into order…”
-------------------------------------- Word Count: 787 Exp: 131.2
They say, "Evil prevails when good men fail to act." What they ought to say is, "Evil prevails."
Post by August Krasnow on Dec 30, 2009 8:39:21 GMT
The meeting drones on, ceremony and tradition trudging on slowly as they all go through the centuries old motions that give them their identity and unity. Through tradition, they maintain their power; through the clandestine nature of their meetings and the connections gained through their acceptance into the fraternity they exert their power from smoky secluded corners of society. Their master sitting prominently in the East, dictates authority from on high – issuing decrees to those gathered. Their golden rule is silence and secrecy, breaking of which is punishable by death – murderers carried out by fellow members against those that strayed from their oaths. August is just another member, marked only by his ring and those others who knew the dark secrets, and tonight, he is to take that next step down into the rabbit hole.
Late into the evening the meeting goes and is business for now, dull and confusing to those who are untrained in their wordage yet, after the routine work is done, those not qualified to partake in the coming ritual were expelled to go about their business for the night as they opened the next section of the meeting in the new degree, eight degree. August is brought into a secluded room, where upon he is stripped and fitted with strange vestments, barefoot and blinded, and waits behind a door till called forth from within. Two guides greet him after his call, and take him by the arms to lead him. Eight times around, circling around the altar in the center, stopping each round three times at stations marking the East, North and West, upon which his guides speak for him, before relaying part of a story and ritualistic prayers. After this, he is lead to the altar, caused to kneel and place his hands over the grimoire, an ancient book written by the founder of the brotherhood. From their, the master approaches from the East, kneels down opposite August, places his hands upon the August while the other brethren chant:
"Solemn strikes the funeral chime, Notes of our departing time; As we journey here below, Through a pilgrimage of woe…"
The master from the East speaks directly to August, “Are you willing to take the oath?” August nods, still blind but aware of the others around him, the darkness of the place and the tiny candle lights that illuminate the darkness faintly. “I am.” “You will repeat your name, and say after me: I, August Krasnow…” The master gives eight raps from a gavel. August, with a slight devilish grin, replies. “I, August Krasnow…”
------------------------------------ Word Count: 433 Exp: 72.1 Total: 1220wc/203.3exp
They say, "Evil prevails when good men fail to act." What they ought to say is, "Evil prevails."
A completed oath and the blindfold is removed, revealing the meeting to be blanketed in darkness, only illuminated by faint candle light. The ground around him is chalked and wax dripped into a star pattern, with distinctive and bizarre symbols interlaced between the lines. Lines intersect to form intrinsic patterns of a macabre nature, distinct in their purpose, obscure in their origins. The patterns appear alive as the shadows cast by the candles dance over them, a perverted ballet that would leave lesser people uneasy and frightened. It is a binding mark of the fraternity’s attempt to draw dark powers from otherworldly sources, infusing each member who passes through this degree with newfound powers, gifted and beholden to them henceforth.
Around him, the other brothers have adorned themselves in long flowing robes of dark hues and pigments, their faces obscured by hoods. They surround August, silent now, and static as statues while the Master stands before August. He extends his hand out to the right, palm open and waiting. From a brother’s sleeve, a dagger is brought forth and placed handle first into the hand of the Master. He commands August to raise his right hand, open palmed, and present it to him. August obliges and with swiftness from decades of performing this ritual, draws the blade across August’s palm, drawing a fine line of red through the center. The spilled blood drips onto the grimoire and quickly the Master switches hands with the dagger and takes a hold of Augusts hand, cupping it and guiding it over the book, all the while chanting:
”Coraxo chis cormp od chis blans De babage. Aziazior paeb soba lilonon Chis virq eophan od raclir maasi Bagle iad od noqodi, ds ialpon Dosig od basgim, od oxex daziz siatris, Od salbrox cynxir faboan.”
Upon the utterance of the final word, the dots of blood upon the ancient parchment fade are replaced by faint light, that grow out like cobwebs, connecting each droplet with fine lines of eerily glowing light.
” Vnal chis Const ds yor eors vohim gizyax Od matb cocasg plosi molvi, Ds page ip, larag om droln Matorb cocasb. Emna l patralx Yolci matb Nomig monons Olora gnay angelard.”
The Master takes August’s bleeding hand and places it upon the book as he chants, open palmed and face down. The glows brighter around his touch and even feels warm, strangely so. A unnatural warmth and August cannot tell if it’s pleasant or unnerving to the touch. He then notices something peculiar about his hand; it feels fused to the pages, stuck hard and fast. He tries to remove it, a jerk reaction, when the others assembled close in around him and hold him down from the shoulders, one taking his wrist and locking it hard against the book. The Master raises the dagger in the air, above August’s hand.
”Bolp idoigo madriax! Bagle iad madrid I, zirop od chiso drilpa. Niiso! Crip ip micalz apah”
He brings the dagger’s blade straight into the center of August’s palm, piercing through his flesh and the book below it. There comes a brilliant flash of light, a loud roar and a dinning tear, like the ripping of fabric into two, but its sound comes like an explosion. Peculiar feelings wash over August; it feels as if his body is being lit afire from within. His mind melts into a jelly, eyes ache with mounting pressure and suddenly he feels himself fall, like plummeting into a dark chasm with no bottom. Darkness surrounds him, like a veil, that chokes his mind and devours him till he feels as if nothing of his body is left – just blackness and a growing whine that drowns out all other sounds…
--------------------------------------- Word Count: 634 Exp: 106 Total: 1854wc/309exp
They say, "Evil prevails when good men fail to act." What they ought to say is, "Evil prevails."
The voice was the last, and first thing you heard as the blackness surrounded your vision Nothing more than a voice. Deep and echoing within your mind, as if bouncing off the walls of countless caverns. There was still, for now. Blackness. But you felt some sense of materialism. You still existed. Your hands and legs could move, unrestricted. However there was something different now. A sense of forboding, a heavy weight upon you. Like increased gravity. Your body would move more sluggishly.
A light appeared in the distance. Not bright at all, rather ore like a glowing ember. However still in this absolute blackness that light seemed to stand out in the horizon. It was your only marker point for the next destination. But even as you would try to move at a sluggish pace. You found yourself becoming ever more fatigued. " You look so tired....". The deep echoing voice again. This time not in your head, but in the abyss. The voice was directionless. Seemingly coming from everywhere, and nowhere.
" Why don't you just lie down?, take a little nap...and then you can take another step tommorow....."
A yawn, came from the voice. And before long you found yourself yawning. It was so horribly addictive. " So much work....".
Event: See no Evil
Clive is under attack by a demon representing the sin of Sloth. Each step he takes feels like one thousand....his energy being constantly drained in this darkness, his eyes getting heavier. Knowing that if he falls asleep. He will be playing into the demons hands. And likely won't ever wake up.
His only chance is to make his way towards the tiny light in the distance.
Post by August Krasnow on Jan 5, 2010 10:09:55 GMT
That drowsy voice rings like a soft lullaby, drowning August in its sleepy influence like a cold wet blanket. He could simply just take the entities advice and take a quick nap, but that is not August’s usual personality, he was never the type to take advice from anyone, much less some disembodied voice in this neither realm. Clearly this was part of the initiation, a test through demonic realm or a distant plane of existence; void of his worlds’ understanding of normality – a strange distant place where the laws that govern his realm were articles of either a new revelation or ancient antiquity. He can feel himself exist here, this was clearly more then just a dream, whatever strange dark ritual he just partook in sent him here and, if he were to guess, that tiny little light at the end of this black void was his way out – a rather sadistic trick, or both. There being only one way to find out, else fall down here, lost forever.
With a heavy back and even heavier legs and arms, as if his clothes were woven with lead and iron and being pulled down by heavy chains, August takes his first step towards the light. Each painfully tired step becomes exponentionally more so than the last, a marathon in each stride, an Atlas he bore upon him here, one he could not shake off. Truly, he could not even tell if he was making progress or not towards the light. No matter what, he failed to regain any strength in his endeavor, trying to keep his mind off the exhaustion though; he chooses to speak to whatever is influencing his action here.
“Entity…” He yawns out, like a tired child. “What is your… name? If you refuse to tell me… *yawn* then I shall call you Acedia.” He closes his eyes for a moment, and in that instance of weakness, he falls to a knee with the overburden of exhaustion. “Is that… acceptable, Acedia?” He struggles to get himself back up on his feet and succeeds, though the weight of this world refuses to let him stand full upright, instead he is forced to slouch over with buckling knees, arms nearly dragging against whatever qualifies for ground in this realm.
“Lay down… you say? I scoff!” That exclamation of energy costs August, as it causes him to fall in weakness upon his hands and knees. “Hear me, Acedia… scoff. I’m August Randolph Krasnow…” He struggles back to his weary feet with heavy eyes. “Krasnows do not… ‘nap’…” More steps forward, towards that peculiar light and deep inside August’s mind he begs to know how much more he must endure to get there. He wasn’t sure how much more of this abuse he could muster, though he’d never let Acedia know this little mounting fact. “Krasnows revel in work… work brings… fortune… fortune brings power… power… po…wer…” Unable to continue further upon his feet, August collapses flat against the ground, like a pathetic rag doll. For a moment, he remains motionless, still as the grave, till his right hand reaches out with claws barred and rakes into the darkness as if it were earth, pulling his weight forward. “Po..w…er, dear… A-Acedia… power… has… b-broug..ht me… to you…” With each struggled word, August rakes his hands into the darkness, propelling his drained body closer and closer to the light. “An… p-po..wer… will… g-get me… out of… here.”
His eyes are now too heavy to see clearly, only a blur of black and bright white before him; is he there and if not how much closer? He can only guess with each reach if this would be the one to bring him from darkness to light, his head is even too heavy to bring up just long enough to get a direct look at his destination, now forced to just gauge from the corner of his weighted eyes. Each arm feels like iron, each pull of his body like weighted gold, and only determination not to ever be overcome driving him forward, inch by dreaded heavy inch. ----------------------------------------------- Word Count: 700 Exp: 116.6 Total: 2554wc/425.6exp
There was a deep yawn fro within the abyss, clearly the demon of sloth. " You may call me what you wish mortal....none of it really matters...". As you reached the light, crawling upon your hands and feet, there was a bright flash. Enough to blind you. Another yawn. It would seem that you hadn't quite escaped him yet. However, the weight on your shoulders and fatigue began to fade away, not completely but enough so that you could at least stand without falling over. And blink without fear of never opening your eyes again.
In your blindness you heard a female voice. Like the demon of sloth this one was obviously not human, and yet seductive all the same. " Such a shame one like this was choosen for your vice....He and I could have had ever so much fun...". Another yawn. This time. A footstep. Clear as day you could hear it.
"....It matters not.....In truth I wished he had been taken to you...I do so hate it when my rest is interupted....."
The female voice seemed to tut at the demon of sloth. " My so lazy you are!....but yes...it would appear that the blindness is wearing off dearie.....best hop to it.....". As your vision began to return you would see that you were in a rather desolate place. What felt like sand under your feet. And yet, a fog so deep you could barely see beyond your arms length;. Yet one thing was clear in this fog. A throne, and slouching down in its depths. Was the demon. It lazily stood up and yawned...
" Very well mortal...since you don't want to rest.....I suppose we'll have to do this....Call any weapon you wish to your side and it shall appear....".
Boss Battle VS Acedia, the Demon of Sloth BGM: A Beating Black Wing
Description Don't be fooled by his appearance. This demon is extremely powerful. A little known fact is that sloth, over all is actually the most dangerous of the realm of demons. Very few people can resist their power to put them to sleep. Once asleep the demons will trap their victim in an eternal nightmare. Sucking from them not just their soul. But every little emotion that they can.
Despite his lazy attitude this demon moves at incredible speed. Often victims confuse this for teleporting. But the truth is that during these points he is merely moving at a speed that the eyes cannot follow. The demon has access to high level ice elemental spells, as well as a variety of combat abilities that put the target to sleep.
Post by August Krasnow on Jan 17, 2010 8:18:46 GMT
Despite the blinding flash, the moment he feels the weight lifted he rises back to his feet. Even though it still felt as if he was still weighted down by liquid lead, for now he can move freer. Call it a second wind, an inner drive to survive, or perhaps just because this demon wishes it to be so. Either way, now August felt he finally stood a chance against whatever else this challenge could throw at him, though why would this demon remove the handicap? Surely it either was chocked full of pride that it believed giving back August a fraction of an edge would not hinder its plan, or it was so powerful that this little pittance of ‘mercy’ was no different then giving a maimed dog a slightly longer leash. Always games, games, and games, why do demons so enjoy games?
A new voice emanates through the darkness bestowed upon me, distinctively female in its seductive tone and sharp with power. Her bitter banter with the other makes August believed this one must be the representation of Lust or even perhaps Envy. Her voice was seductively tantalizing, the type of voice that makes a man weak in the knees with just the mere thought of swooning over it, a very dangerous trait of any seductress. They bicker in the coma white over August, Acedia wishing he’d been thrust upon her instead of himself. As August’s eyes began to come back into focus, that white tunnel of nothing fading away, ‘Lust’ departs – seemingly. Upon his sight returning, August found himself before the lazy demon, in a desolate place.
This world that greeted August was a vile, fog riddled place, void of depth and color. A bleak white world washed in the cloud of opaque milky mist, even the ground felt unsure of its self. Lost in the truth of its very own existence, what was it? It seemed to wonder; sand and stone, yet neither. A very peculiar and queer surface to experience underfoot, certainly it was not of a Gaia bound realm. Up ahead, through the haze sat the lazy demon, in a strange throne. He rose from his recline, yawning and issues his proposition. This was too much of a fascinating opportunity to pass up for August, he wasn’t going to rush into this. He wanted to figure things out first, and most importantly, learn.
“Now, lets not get ahead of ourselves, demon.” August says, nodding and raising his hand to settle the creature of sleep. His voice was calm, collected and projecting confidence in his actions. He pushed the lingering sleepiness to the back of his mind, this was far to exciting to only be half-alert. “You are a demon of inaction, so let us rest before we begin the fray? Certainly such a request is in order.” He motions for the demon to retake its seat. “Please, no need to stand, sit. I insist.” He places his hands behind his back, grasped against the small of his back as he stands, stepping just slightly closer to Acedia in a non-threatening manner. “Not that you may care, but its only proper, I am August Krasnow. My father came here before me; you may have confronted him then? Yes, no?” Shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter.” Smiles softly. “And you, I know you.” That smile turns devilish, with his eyes twinkling with the excitement of using knowledge.
August begins to pace back and forth in front of the throne, muzzled plastered with a little smirk and eyes affixed to the demon on high. Unrelenting in their gaze. “You are Sloth, I will admit that I was unsure at first what challenge or things I may confront here and upon arriving in that dark abyss, I was at a loss as to what was happening, but now it makes perfect sense. I must say, this, or should I say you, was not what I imagined would be the one I would face yet it makes perfect sense.” He brings a hand from behind his back and assures the demon he need not speak. ”I am just merely speaking for my own benefit; don’t feel you need to chime in unless you wish.” He returns the hand behind his back. “See, I know you and your postion in the demon hierarchy and for that.” He stops, turns to face the demon, and bows slightly. “I am honored to be within your presence. Your greatness is recorded well in the old texts and I am humbled by it.” He returns from the bow and proceeds with his pacing once more. “It only makes perfect logic that therefore, you Sloth, should be the one. You are the seducer of ingenious inventors, are you not, with the power of discovery and discord? Therefore, an inventor such as I, must come before you once in their life, true?” He nods. “Yes, I would have to agree, wouldn’t you?”
He turns, stopping infront of the throne with a military snap at his feet. His right hand raises to his chin and rubs it lightly. “But tell me this, according to illustrations, you are suppose to look like some bearded creature with horns and pointed features, a monstrous entity. Yet, here I see before me is something that could rightfully be construed as elegant and beautiful.” Then a realization falls over him. “Oh I understand now, that must just be some ‘earthly’ disguised when you are invoked. Very clever, but then, I suppose that is to be expected from such a creature as yourself. I really wouldn’t expect less.”
At this time, Acedia was beginning to appear annoyed at August for this pointless yammering. A mortal, daring to speak to such a high demon, it must be unheard of. Yet, August is a unique individual, absent of the fear of those things that would make normal men turn tail and run. Lazily the demon stands, demanding that this pointless talking cease and August nods in agreement. “Of course, Lord of Sloth. Just one more question, is it true that saying your true name makes your kind recoil in agony and pain? Is that so… Belphegor!?” August flicks his hands out before him and mutters two words, “Eastern Star…” The weapon materializes in his hands and in this quick movement of them – despite the effects of the name calling or not, August raises the rifle and fires his first shot regardless.
Unnatural Selection + Class trait autohit: The Eastern Star fires out a powerful, glowing beam of condensed energy that strikes its mark with faultless accuracy. The demon Acedia (Belphegor) takes the blast to the chest, dead center, knocking him back against his throne. The dial on the rifle is set between Silence and Immobilize, effecting the demon with both as well as causing strong energy based damage.
Silenced and immobilized, whatever tricks the demon had were now void, this would give August the edge he needed to even the playing field. “Aww, I’m sorry, Sloth. I know you’re such a riveting speaker, with that silver tongue and all. This silence must be driving you mad, come on tell me how much you loath not being able to speak?” August’s mocks, then raises his rifle and fires against at the demon. Bursts of energy shooting forth from the blunderbuss ray gun to the lazy, deadly demon trapped in its throne on high. Yet, August’s bravado proves premature, when suddenly the demon breaks it’s magical bonds without warning.
“My… turn… *yawn*” A large ice spike appears beside the demon, which it grasps tightly and in a flash, practically a blink, it charges forward in faster then lightening. August barely had time to react, to avoid a direct hit to the chest. Thankfully, the strange speed increase he received from the peculiar demonic present was starting to prove useful, mixed with years of fencing, and he side-steeped fast enough to not get an icicle to the chest – through its sharp tip grazed across his chest, spilling blood. Sloth swung the icicle back; August raised the Eastern Star to block. The strength of the demon causing him to nearly buckle and with each strike, August is pushed down to the ground. It was amazing that even the Eastern Star was holding out against this barrage of hits and when August feels he can’t hold out another moment, the icicle shatters, throwing Sloth off its feet.
August took this opportunity to spring up, flinging the rifle’s butt up and into the demons chin with all the power he could muster, forcing it to stagger back. He flips the rifle back upright, resting properly in his grasp and charges it. Widow’s Son V.2: An explosive charge erupts out from the glowing Eastern Star, a burst or pulse if you will of explosive heat and energy. It streaks towards Sloth, and throws August off his feet, sliding across the peculiar ground till he rests up against the throne. The blast strikes Sloth with the power of Flare, atop of the immense heat and energy output. It envelopes around Sloth, smothering the demon is a brilliant display of light, throwing the creature off its feet and sends it flying back.
August staggers up to his feet, chuckling exhaustedly to himself, very smugly. He looked out to the white expanse where Sloth was propelled, seeing nothing stirring within the pasty void. “Heh… that was it?” He laughed, “The Great Demon Sloth cannot eve-“ *Slam* His sentence is interrupted suddenly by a smoldering, smoky Sloth, who in the blink of an eye, swept upon August out from the fog, clasping its cold hand around the noble’s throat and lifting him into the air. It begins to squeeze tightly.
“No… not… quite, mortal.” Replies the demon, smilingly tiredly, while its hand slowly crushed down upon August’s larynx. August struggled, bashing the demon’s head with his fist and rifle, trying in vane to free himself. Sloth barely flinched with each bash, August would have better luck against a statue, at least then he could see that he was making progress in his desperate attempts. “Sleep…” *Yawn* “Sleep…” Sloth raises its other hand, putting it over August’s head above his muzzle, fingers on his eyes. A flowing sparkle, like black dust, comes from his fingers. The dust cling to August’s fur and slowly absorb past his fur and into his skin. Immediately, August felt his eyes grow terribly heavy. Sleep was quickly approaching, like a speeding runaway train. His vision blurred and slowly faded to black.
-Enter Light Sleep-
August is unable to resist the initial effects of the demon’s ability to force sleep and soon, he finds himself on the edge of falling completely asleep. He falls into an induced, light dream state, those types of dream states right after falling asleep which skew reality and the dream world. They may seem to last minutes or hours, yet only a few seconds pass in the real world.
August finds himself suddenly awoken in a warm, sunny, grass clearing in some foreign and peculiar forest. The heat of the sun feels real, the cool grass beneath him feels real, even the smell and taste of the air has a strikingly real sensation to it. It takes August, what feels like a minute or two, too fully come out of a drowsy stupor. He sits up in the grass and surveys his surroundings. Despite how real it feels, he knows something is amiss. Moments ago he was battling a demon and now he’s in some pleasant forest somewhere. He slaps himself, seeing if it’ll jar him awake, all it does is make his face hurt. He checks the grass around him, looking for the Eastern Star – it was nowhere to be found. He stands then and proceeds to look around the little clearing. In the distance, he believes he hears birds and small animals in the bush, nothing of major concern. So, with nothing else to do but figure out where he was, he walks towards one side of the clearing, coming to the thick tree line. He tries to move away the brush with his hands, but it is too thick and difficult, so he tries the other side of the clearing, same thing. It was becoming clear that August was trapped in this tiny space. He walks back towards the center, looking up at the strangely blue sky, with clouds that seem to sway and ripple like water.
“Hello!? Am I alone here!? If anyone is there, make yourself known!” He calls, “How does one exit this place?”
”Oh you cannot escape here, friend.” Says a disembodied voice. “Who said that? Show yourself!” ”Ohhh, so demanding. You must be a man of power and wealth, only those people are so demanding. Except maybe the coward feigning strength, which are you friend?” “It is of no concern of yours, voice. Now are you going to just try to analyze me or is their some purpose to your talking.” August looks around, at the trees and bushes, but sees nothing. The voice sounds if it is coming from all around, yet nowhere. ”I like talking friend, so few people come here, and when they do, I love to talk to them. It is fun to hear their stories, learn their reasons for coming and how they’re going to escape, but none ever do. They are just cease to be eventually, it makes me sad every time I loose one of my new friends this way. Will you be my new friend?” August grows, “Whatever you wish, now show yourself.” ”Fine, fine, friend. I will show myself to my new friend.”
From the trees, come a rustle, followed by two little glowing eyes emerging from under a pile of dead leaves. The leaves then explode away, revealing a tiny cat like creature with a long ring-tail shaking itself off. It's a spotted-genet, of some strange talking sort, that slowly approaches August. ”Here I am friend, don’t fret. Eggiwegs, is here.” “Eggiwegs?” August asks, curiously looking at the little talking animal. “That’s a peculiar name.” ”A red wolf gave me the name one day, my first friend. He was sick wolf, sick in the head, but a friend true and true.” “That’s fascinating, so how do I get out of here? Wherever ‘here’ is.” ”You’re in the Mouth of Madness, friend. Magoria some call it, some call it Phantas but it doesn’t matter. What purpose is there in a name for a place that only exists in the darkest recesses the mind?” “So, this place is and isn’t a place, perfect. This must be some trickery of that demon, some type of dream land…” Eggiwegs jumps around at August’s feet, tail bobbing and whipping through the air excitedly. ”Ohh my friend is smart, smart friend indeed!” “And you’re a very talkative if not annoying little creature. So let us get down to business, how do I get back?” ”Ohhh, there is only really one way to get back.” Slyly says the genet, looking up to August. August kneels down, to look the Eggiwegs better in the eyes. “Oh, and that is? Please, don’t hold out on your new friend.” ”I don’t know! I just know there is! All my other friends tried so desperately to get out, they should have just stayed here with me! This is a wonderful place, always warm and happy. I lovveee it!” “I’m sure you do, little creature. Well, if you won’t tell me, then I suppose I’ll do it on my own.” With that, August stands back up and returns to trying to break through the thicket, but it seems like with every handful of brush and foliage, more just grew back. Faster and faster he pulled and pushed, but it just came back quicker.
”I wouldn’t do that friend, they don’t like it. Just stop it and come play with me in the grass!” Eggiwegs rolls over in his belly, scratching his back in the grass, trying to act very cute.
“Play all you want, I’m going to figure out how to get out of this weird little dream.” August calls back, sitting on his legs and contemplating his next move.
”You’re going to regret ittttt.” The genet calls, still on his back, tail flicking cat like in the air.
“And I’ll regret not trying to free myself from this prison.” Paying no more attention to the genet, he tries digging into the dirt with his hands, pulling dirt clots and grass out in an attempt to dig under the brush. That too fails as the brush washes into the hole, blocking his path. Suddenly, the trees seem to sway, angrily. Like some sudden gust of wind went through them, yet nothing of the sort brushed August.
””Uh ohhhh, now you’ve done it. You made them angryyyyy, friend.”
Frustrated, August turns his head to look back at the genet, who flips back on its belly. “And who are they?”
”That Black Ram of the Forest, she has many children, some call her Niggurath. She’s the one that keeps stealing my friends. Mean, mean creature, she is.”
August raises an eye, “Niggurath? Fascinating.” Suddenly a steady sound of something like a drum beat begins to emanate over the clearing from somewhere deep past the tree line. It sounds as if its getting closer with each beat and slowly circling around August. Startled, August crawls back towards the center of the clearing, beside Eggiwegs.
”Sheeesss hereeeee. Bye, friend!” Suddenly the genet turns tail and begins to run, but August is quick enough to snatch up the creature’s long tail and hold him still – no matter how hard Eggiwegs struggles. “Oh no you don’t, whatever this Black Goat is, we’re facing it together. What are friends for, right?” Eggiwegs squirms, ”No! no! I cannot be here! Let me go!”
August stands, picking up Eggiwegs by the base of the tail and keeping him with him. Eggiwegs tries to snap and bite at August, hissing as he does, but he’s always just out of biting distance. The sky darkens around the clearing, the drum beats grow stronger and louder, soon it’s a deafening din that beats at the very heart of August. Then, there just beyond the tree line, things stir. Swaying to and fro, like some sickly, morbid dance. Suddenly, out from the bush emerges black, ropy tendrils like slime jelly that creep along the ground towards where August stands. August stands his ground, unflinching, even when the creatures themselves appear past the trees. They are strange black trees, made of the same thing as their tendrils, which crawl and flow on many cloven hooves. At their tops are many snapping mouths that appear to starving for flesh, salivating and spitting with each snap. Then, one of the many tendrils snakes itself around August’s boot, coiling tightly then lifts him into the air.
”Ohhh noo! Drop me drop me! Put me down! I should not be here!” “You got me into this mess!” August objects as more tendrils wrap themselves around August’s body. They pull tightly around his body, constricting it like a boa. It almost feels as if his bones would snap at any moment. Eggiwegs screams out, frightened, demanding to be dropped. ”Let me go! Let me go! Friend’s don’t let friend’s get eaten!” August grits his teeth and strains out, “Good… thing… I’m… not really… your friend!” He chucks Eggiwegs into the air towards one of the strange, hungry trees.
In the fall, Eggiwegs looks at August with big, sad puppy eyes and simply mutters sheepishly, ”You’re… not my friend?” Before a tendril whips out and wraps itself around the plummeting genet, and quickly brings it to one of the many mouths, chomping down on the tiny critter, snapping it in two. Suddenly, the world shatters and August sees light.
-End Light Sleep-
August’s eyes flutter open, back in the white world of Sloth, still snatched in the demons grasp, its hand still upon his eyes as it tries to suck the very essence of August out, soul and all. Its eyes were closed, savoring the moment, and fails to notice that August had stirred awake. Slowly, trying not to bring attention to himself, August raises the Eastern Star up, then suddenly jams it under the demon’s chin.
“Consider this your wake up call.” He pulls the trigger, sending a ray blast straight into the demons head at point blank range. The blast throws the two apart, dropping August onto his tail and sending the demon flying away, into the blanket of fog. August quickly gets back to his feet and brings the rifle back up to his shoulder, pointing to where the demon blasted off too. Waiting for whatever may come next.
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The demon fell to the ground, and the moment he touched it, the world began to shatter. That was the exact word. As cracks began to form up the walls of the world, revealing nothing but darkness behind it. As it shattered pieces of the demonic world fell around you like snow drops. Once again you would feel tired..this time. It was unresistable. Your last vision would be of the Sloth Demon slowly geting back up and picking the bullet out of his head, the wound healing over.
You would hear the voices again. " *yawn...Didn't do too badly....". There was agreement in the voice of the female from before " *purrs*...yes....hopefully next time he'll end up mine......". The ever lasting yawn of the sloth demon. " Next time...you honestly think a mortal would ever return here of his own freewill?". There was laughter from the female.
And everything went silent. You would awake in the room of the ritual. With nothing more than a light headache.
Post by August Krasnow on Jan 31, 2010 2:20:05 GMT
August finds himself laying on the floor, surrounded by his Brothers. His eyes take a few moments to focus, adjusting to the dim light and peculiar sights. If his species could sweat as humans could, he would be in a puddle of it. Around him, encasing him on the floor is a strange seal, known as the Seal of Metatron. Attributed to the voice of the Gods, if used in the right rituals it can act as tether to realms existing outside the known reality, it is this that allowed August to return back to his world. The Master approaches and offers August his hand, where upon he is hoisted up by the wrist, hand to wrist and brought into a peculiar embrace. Heel to heel, knee to knee, hand to wrist, left arm to back, and mouth to ear, where upon the Master speaks a peculiar word – a word secret to all outside the Brotherhood. The word unlocks the power hidden deep inside the ring bestowed upon him upon reaching a full member within the brotherhood.
After the rest of the ceremony and some more business, they break for the evening. Many brothers’ pass on their congratulations onto August for his accomplishment in overcoming the trail and unlocking his true potent ional. August lingers around for a little longer, after the others have left to think back on his experience. He fidgety rubs his ring between two fingers as he thinks, pondering the importance of what he saw, trying to piece everything together. Soon, realizing the time, he departs to meet back with Kane who merely nods upon August’s approach. “Kane, Let us go out tonight for pleasure, while the night is still young...” Leaving the secret passages and alleys, they head back to the noble district of treno to partake in a few drinks and conversations at the social club in a hope to distract himself from the unsettling nature of the queer things he had witnessed in the other realm.
End Thread
------------------------------------- Word Count: 334 Exp: 33.4 Thread Total: 818.9
They say, "Evil prevails when good men fail to act." What they ought to say is, "Evil prevails."
