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| Never Forgotten {P} | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Sat Jul 9, 2011 6:34 am (627 Views) | |
| Ogichi | Sat Jul 9, 2011 6:34 am Post #1 |
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It was… Rather practically depressing each time that the pale fiend visited the ancient city. Whether it was simply how he missed out on its end as he would always claim whenever inquired, or he had a personal connection to it, something of which he would never admit except to only one, it was of few places that robbed him of his psychotic smile. A question ran through his mind as he slowly walked down the dusty and decrepit path of the cathedral, Getsuga pulsing in protest to being inside of such a structure. However, if there was one thing which could always be said for the demon, if any a redeeming quality there were about him, it was that by none would he be controlled, by none would he be ordered to do what he did not desire. Not even by what he called an old friend, not by the pulsing of the pale sword by his side. For all of its power, it was nothing more than a tool to him, it was unable to force his hand in any direction he did not will it, it was incapable of forcing him away from the direction of something he wanted. A world called him a monster, a rat called him a pet, a sword called him a wielder, a corpse called him worthless, a soul called him a hero, a man called him a father, and a woman called him love. By none was he controlled, by none would he be forced away… only by himself would he wonder, after so long in the depths of the purest form of insanity, of hallucinations both of sight and sound, of smell and of feel. Of belief and of impious nature. Gods could not stop him; he would free himself from the chains of the afterlife. Death would not reap him without a fight, war would not find him on any side, pestilence would not find him sick, famine would not find him starved, anger would not find him wrathful, greed would not find him rich, envy would not find him wanting, lust would not find him stopping, sloth would not find him slacking, gluttony would not find him fat and pride would not find him stopping. There would many better than him, and there would be only one he would that the thought of stopping passed his mind for… Wherever she may find her rest… The monster stopped at the front of the cathedral, sitting down slowly upon a bench near the front, interlacing his finger and resting his forehead upon his knuckles. A sight most rare, a demon praying. Not for power, he already had that. Not for luck, he made his own. Not for any which one would think such a demon as he would dare risk praying for in a forgotten place such as this, but for the safety of two others. Only two others, not even of himself, no matter what he may face he would not wish for himself… He was smarter than that. When it came to be his time, if there came to be a justice enacted and his demonic soul ripped from his body, and forced to fight against new beings of a higher plane, there were only the two of which he would dare fight his way back for. A sigh passed his lips, holding with it the psychotic high-pitch of his voice the echo which followed each sound he dared utter. “So… If any of you bastards are listening… If you’re as powerful as is claimed… I don’t need to say a word for you to truly understand just what it is I come here for after so long. To lay my head like this, I feel pathetic, I feel weak… I feel helpless… Take a good look, for I will not show it beyond this time unless I see her again. Am I supposed to be unlike him? Am I a true messenger of death, leaving the souls where they lie, bringing forth an end to masses of who come back time after time? I have taken the lives of untold numbers; I have stricken down heroes over my life, and then when I finally begin to slow… You make her vanish? To leave me with him who I cannot find? Do you fear what may happen if my heart slows? If a day passes without a life being taken? I sit amongst the highest house and exert how I am better than them, my intellect itself rivals that of plenty, my power continues to grow to truly monstrous proportions… And even if you do not carry it through…” He paused for a moment, a slight grin appearing upon his face, sheepish, not holding the strength it often dd. He was a madman, quick to jump and slice through anything he saw, and here he was… hundreds of years since his last visit, his last words to some higher deities. Praying to them, making a deal he would not even conduct with the devil himself… it was too sensitive a matter. “If you just return her to me… I would forfeit my power in and of itself, I would purify my mind and spend my life seeking redemption… For years I had rejected the purest of acts because I did not wish myself to be like him. And when I would even consider a moment at love, she if gone from me… Return her to me, and I will no longer be the Last True Monster of Chaon… Or I will be the greatest fear this world has seen, whichever deal will work for you, just return her to me!” He lifted his head sharply, glaring to the broken stained glass which took up most of a massive wall, long ago had it been shattered, revealing a clouded moon behind its hole, mocking him it felt like… Sharply did the monster rise from his seat, yelling to it now, yelling to the gods themselves. “Do you bastards hear me!? Return her to me and I will become either your greatest weapon or your most devout follower! Choose and I will abide, just send her back! Return my sanity in full before its lost again to the taste of blood upon the steel of my blade!” He cried out, his breath becoming a pant, exhausted, not from the shouting but of everything. He had lived longer than most creatures; he had seen many things, done many things. Perhaps all that he could imagine doing. And to know now that after so long of his destruction, of his killing, when he was willing to sit down and talk with the gods themselves, they would not respond, it merely fueled to anger him. A scowl, a rare thing, worked its way upon his face as he turned, pale fingers wrapping around the rotten wooden texture of the bench, lifting it with ease as he spun about, throwing it with full force to what was left of the stained glass window to shatter what was left, “Why won’t you bastards answer me!?” |
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| Shaco | Sat Jul 9, 2011 7:16 am Post #2 |
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Tumble dee, down the drain, guzzle the blood consume the brain. Tumble da off the bed, burn the flesh sever the head The demon jester was in a lazy carefree mood tonight, changed into his purple and gold suit he was happy. Laying on his back on a long wooden beam, kicking his feet up in the air while singing. He had chosen to lay up in the decaying rafters of this long abandoned holy place. Climbing up the stone cracked walls, he found a comfortable place right above a broken and rusty chandelier, facing the shattered roof that contained holes. The broken roof allowed Shaco to peer up into the night sky, the cool glow of the moon light drifting down into the cathedral. Creating cool dancing shadows on the floors and walls of the place. The jester was just enjoying himself, singing and kicking on the beams of the church roof. As a pause came upon his song, he heard distant foot steps outside on the cracked stone. Someone, or something, was making their way up into the abandoned cathedral. Shaco stopped singing and rolled over onto his stomach. Placing his elbows against the wooden beam, he sat his chin in his palms and watched as a odd man walked into the church. He was very pale, and wore a white cloak like item. At his side was a blade, that gave off a death sensation. Just by looking at this man Shaco could tell he had seen his fair share of death and pain. Licking his lips the clown started to sway his feet back and forth, and just watched the man for a while. The white stranger did something very unexpected, atleast to shaco. Sitting at a wooden bench the man began to spoke, most likely to the gods. The damned gods that shaco despised so much. But for now he was going to stay silent and watch. At first the man was calm and quiet, just talking as if he was talking to a regular person. Asking for something, or someone. He wasn’t really paying all that much attention. But his attention was perked as the man began to raise his voice, and start to yell at the gods. He was getting very angery and furious, this made shaco grin. The man stood and sent the wooden bench flying at a glass window, shattering it to pieces in the night. He yelled to the gods, asking why they didn’t answer him. Shaco was now enjoying this scene, and felt it time to butt in. Letting out a loud, startling laugh he fell right off the side of the beam, and free falling to the ground. However he did not make it far, for shaco allowed his arm to reach out and grab a hold of the chandelier. It shook and rattled as the demon jester hung from its metal hooks. Silly little man, the gods don’t answer no one. They sit on their thrones of gold and rule over us simple folk. You will have better luck eating three seas of pickled fish before getting those devils to answer your prayers. Tee hee hee tee He let out another groaned laugh as he fell to the floor. Most likely already having the attention of this white man. He stood and brushed the dust off from his fancy tunic, being one of his favorite suits. He stepped forward with one foot, and leaned over a bit. Sticking a finger out and shaking it. Those gods are silly little things, I don’t bother with them anymore. They don’t tell shaco what to do, I control my own fate, noooo one else He chuckled again. Then instantly he fell back onto the dusty stone floor, and busted out into a manic laugh. The laughter echoed out in the empty stone hall, his slender body rolling on the floor. He looked like a child, busting his gut from the funniest joke he had ever heard. Sometimes that just happened, him busting out in random hysterical laughter. Then as if he had a button he stopped laughing and sat up. So mister white man, what you want form the gods anyway? Shaco has fun living and he no bothers with dumb gods. Nope not for me He smiled up at the man with a cheesy grin, now sitting cross legged on the floor. |
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| Ogichi | Sat Jul 9, 2011 9:05 am Post #3 |
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Ogichi stood there, huffing and puffing for a moment, looking through where there had once stood a mighty stained glass window, looking to the moon as it finally peered from behind the clouds, shining brightly through the window as if looking to see what had caused such a ruckus. At least something seemed to hear him beyond the veils of the damned, the moon had no clear ears ubt seemed to know well what message that the demon was talking about. The pale fiend nodded his head a bit, the psychotic grin returning its way to his face as he nodded his head a bit, thinking it over. He was loud, and for as he could tell had attracted the sight of the moon hanging so high in the sky that it couldn’t be reached. However, it seemed that it was not the only one to hear his yelling, his cursing of the gods all at once. The sound rang through of laughter, it seemed mad, rivaling that of his own, a sound which needed to be seen to be truly believed, to know he was not merely hallucinating. And there he saw it, whether it be a hallucination or truly there, what seemed to be a jester swinging about on a chandelier that seemed itself ready to fall from the ceiling to slam against the ground, but surprisingly did not. No god, no messenger as it claimed to be none, but still seemed to speak an apparent truth. The gods weren’t caring, and it would take something grand to bring about their attention. The jester dropped the rest of the way towards the ground, approaching the pale fiend who merely stood there; the psychotic grin opened a bit wider, a sign of interest in what was happening. It seemed he always happened upon the most interesting of characters. It claimed to be called Shaco, a sign of lifestyle akin to Horo’s. The monster watched as the purple-suited man fell to the floor, laughing like Ogichi might during a slaughter. It was truly an interesting sight, continued by his popping back to a sitting position, asking what Horo wanted of the gods. The demon thought this over for a moment, before beginning to chuckle, a chuckle which quickly grew, quickly grew into a fully psychotic laughter, one true to a madman of his stature as he figured the answer out. The laugh would echo, first from his mouth, and then reverberating off of the still-standing walls of the cathedral, high in its pitch as he threw his arms out, turning away from Shaco and looking to the moon once more. “What do I want with the gods?” He repeated the question, his laughter dying down as his grin had evolved into a fully mad smile, his golden eyes staring as if piercing through the heart of the moon with their very gaze. “I want to find them… I want to cut my way through everything I can! They don’t want to speak with a monster they created so long ago, and then I want their attention! I want to kill everything they’ve created, I want to bring death and destruction upon the very world they molded from nothingness, and I want to anger them so much that they come to face me with their wrath so that I might drive my blade to take the lives of gods! I want to see into their eyes as I kill every last one of them!” He laughed, bringing a pale finger to point towards the moon, his entire form shifting, “And when I do, the moon will be stained red with their blood for all eternity!” He laughed maniacally, the chandelier being stricken with the last force it could stand, falling from the ceiling and crashing upon the floor as Ogichi turned about, though not from the crash. “And you, Shaco… “ He paused for a moment, chuckling again, never before thinking he would dream up such a goal. A goal born of anger, of vengeance, an idea spurred into his mind from a single question, it was an amazing thing that he couldn’t even dream would occur in the past. He had tipped over the edge, he had found a darkness he didn’t even know existed, something he had discovered because of newfound power. He was a monster, left to live by the will of the gods, and the gods were going to fall as long as they wished to ignore their creation, “What are you, anyway, Shaco?" He paused for a moment, shaking his head, it didn't matter what Shaco was, and at any rate, Ogichi had forgotten to introduce himself. Even if this jester had seen wanted posters, it was still the good thing to do... Odd, considering the source. "I'm Horo Ogichi, the Last True Monster of Chaon... And do you want to help me? Are you interested in fighting against the gods themselves? I’m sure it will be a lot of fun to kill a bunch of gods!” Edited by Ogichi, Sat Jul 9, 2011 9:22 am.
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| Shaco | Sat Jul 9, 2011 6:06 pm Post #4 |
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The crazed jester sat there and continued to roll back and forth as the man in white started to speaking. He had began to laugh and chuckle not to long after Shaco had dropped from the rafters of the cathedral. He did not know if it was him the man in white was laughing at, or if just spurted into a manic laughter like he did so many times a day. As the man started to laugh shaco could not help but to join in. He enjoyed the laughing and found the situation fun. But then The pale man turned back to the shattered window, and pointed up at the moon. A daring and heart felt speech was started from the throat of the man. Shaco was having fun and was very interested in what he was saying. Yelling curses and insults, threats and such up to the gods. He wanted them to know that he hated them and was hell bent on finding and slaying each one. Now this was what the clown liked to hear, a fellow hater of the beings who caused so much pain to the people that followed them. Why did people put their trust in them, all they did was turn their back and forsake their people for their own gain. So Shaco did not put up with it and instead made his own path. The man began to laugh, letting out a finale loud chuckle which rebounded off the stone walls and even shook the ground. The chandelier that shaco once hung from shook, and fell from the roof with a rip of soft concrete and loose rubble. It smacked the stone floor and shattered not even five feet behind Shaco. Being startled he shot up and started to hop closer to Horo, giggling and bouncing the whole time. Horo turned back to him and addressed him as if he was about to as him a question. Shaco stopped and made a puzzled look on his face. Then out of no where horo asked what exactly he was. The clown busted out in laughter and held his stomach. I am Shaco silly man! Hee ha ha. Shaco was born from the abyss, a manifestation of all the darkness, evil and fear the world releases. I find joy in pain, happiness in sadness, and over all fun in death!! Mwhaha hehe hee He started to hop back and forth from each foot now, clapping the whole time, his small bells jingling and causing small little rattles to fill the air. Horo introduced himself as the last true monster, which intrigued Shaco. Then asked if he would like to join him in his venture. With a sick evil grin he nodded rapidly. Pulling out his jester blades that glowed in the night light. I can fight good! Shaco is ready to kill them all! he spun and danced around the whole time while enjoying the fact he was asked to join this great beast. |
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| Ogichi | Sat Jul 9, 2011 7:02 pm Post #5 |
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Again, and greater than before, Ogichi began to burst into laughter, clearly happy with what he heard from Shaco, everything. This creature claimed to be of the same cloth as Ogichi, delight in slaughter, only good things could come from the pain brought about, and Horo knew quite well that this was merely the beginning. The gods would fall, and it seemed he might have some help in a goal which would easily be considered mad by any number of people. Two psychopaths, clear and simple, versus the gods themselves and all their infinite powers. However, he knew quite well, two psychopaths would not be enough. Ogichi wanted nothing more than to show his power, to claim his sanity once more, and if it took more insanity to fulfill that wish, then the gods themselves would see madness in its entirety. However, the question would rear about, who else would they need, to show that madness was true and pure enough to bring down the mightiest of life in existence, he wondered if the earth would shake as their bodies fell to the ground, if the sky would be forever darkened, if the waters of the world would turn to blood. One thing was for sure; however, his mind was set upon this goal. The goal of death, destruction, devastation. “Shaco, I have this feeling we’re going to be good friends!” The pale fiend laughed, watching as the jester danced about in glee with his knives, a true wild card, a Joker by no need to stretch the imagination. Ogichi wondered how long it would take before this being got carried away and tried to lash at him, and he wondered how long it would take for him to do the same. A problem that could be addressed when it was tripped upon, until then it didn’t really matter, after all, what else could be expected when two madmen set out to do what was so easily considered impossible? “The gods lets monsters kill off their followers and think that they would be safe from their creations? We’ll show them that they can’t hide up in some higher plane and escape their fates!” He laughed maniacally, joining the jester in dancing like a madman, using the pulsing from his blade as a beat to dance to, listening to its cries against being in this structure, once considered holy it would surely begin to corrupt with the very presence of these two dancing about in it to the song of madness. |
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| Shaco | Sun Jul 10, 2011 6:24 am Post #6 |
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Shaco was a very simple minded man, being completely deprived of his own mind he was not the smartest man, an din fact he had no real thoughts that made any sense. But in his mind he was always right and and always the smartest person around. The fact that Horo wanted him to join him in his quest to destroy the gods made him happy, not that he was ever not happy. Its hard to make a jester sad, since he loved death to it was really hard to find anything that brought the man down. He stopped dancing for a second, replaced his blades onto his back, and walked over to horo. He smiled a crooked messed up smile and patted his new friend on the shoulder. You know mister Horo, I know how to get to the gods. If you wanna go kill them, then lets just go! He didn’t really, in truth he had no idea where to even find the gods. But he did know one man, a priest that preached holy words and tried to convince others to convert to what he said. To shaco this man was a god, for he tried to pass off holy deeds and tell others they committed wrong doings. We can go now, tonight and slay him! shaco was of course talking non sense. He thought horo instantly knew who and what he was talking about, so he provided no details or explanation. He just wanted to go out and have a little fun killing someone. He was glad to have a new friend, for he didn’t really have any to start off with. He grabbed Horos hand, even if he didn’t want him to, the jester did anyway. come come horo, we can go now hee tee hee |
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| Ogichi | Sun Jul 10, 2011 6:38 am Post #7 |
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Ogichi stopped his own dancing as did the jester, wondering If now as going to be the time that the other fellow madman decided to get carried away and start something, but it was not, not combat tonight it seemed, unless one were to count a fight with a cathedral stained glass window, in which clearly the pale fiend had won that encounter, hands down, and benches up. Unlike Shaco, Ogichi’s mind was his own, warped over hundreds of years, bouts of madness, endless killing (at least five lives per day, today he had taken six), and of course a variety of different sorts of hells that he had encountered merely while being on this world. His minds were fluid, overworking, under taxing, he though as far ahead as he could, planning out each thing as he saw it unfold before it happened, though he was still so easily caught off-guard. He never needed to prove himself to anyone except himself, and his actions proved that constantly. To try and control the monster was to tempt one’s fate, and to find individuals in such a deepened state of insanity as himself made him feel as if there were hope for monsters yet! Chaos and Shaco were proof that the world held hope, hope that children for generations to come would hear tale of such creature at night, around fires, and jump out of their skins, with any luck literally. As Shaco spoke, the demon sincerely doubted that he had a way to get to the gods so soon, but to know what he was talking about would still prove to be interesting. He gave out his high-pitched echoing psychotic laugh at the words, laughing with humor and anticipation, no matter what, there different kinds of insanity and he hadn’t been able to figure Shaco’s just yet, which would make it all the more fun to learn a bit into the madness. “Lead the way, my friend!” He called out maniacally, “Lead the way to our first slaughter as friends! Because as they say, the friends who slay together stay together, and oh has it proven so true so far!” He laughed the words, a laugh he had not laughed for over a hundred and twenty years. It was a good feeling, a twisted feeling, warped and maddening in and of itself, it was a sure sign of the destruction and devastation which would surely line up and down the path to the level of God-Slayers. And carriers of such titles would surely be talked about for millennia to come! |
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| Shaco | Mon Jul 11, 2011 5:28 am Post #8 |
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Shaco stopped everything he was doing and thinking, and turned to look directly at horo. A very large smile spread across his face as the white demon said friends. Shaco had never had a real friend before, of course there were people out there who faked being his friend so they could use him and gain something from him. Every one misjudged Shaco, took him for a dummy and idiot. So what if he wasn’t smart or all the way there, but he knew how to take care of himself and people never realized this. Shaco was glad horo wanted to be his friend, but if this turned out like all the other time, then the blood of this man would stain his cloths. The jester thought for a moment, and wondered if horos blood was white also. As they stood there Horo told Shaco to lead the way, so that they could go enjoy a fun filled night of slaughter. With a eager smile shaco started to skip out the front of the cathedral, humming a odd tune and swinging his arms. Turning back he called for horo. come on silly man, tonight we kill! -exit- |
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| Ogichi | Tue Jul 12, 2011 4:35 am Post #9 |
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As the pale fiend laughed maniacally, psychotically, it was as if he could hear it. The sound unmistakable by any means of identification. He was positively sure, that the sound he heard, cracking within his mind like glass was the sign, the sound, his sanity was beginning to shatter all over again. He feared for all of a second as he thought of it, thought of what had happened before, all of the power he had lost because of insanity. The power so intoxicating, it was one to drive any man insane, and when Ogichi would once more step into that darkness, where his last vestiges of sanity would slip away into oblivion, he would grow weaker once more, he would lose Getsuga Tenshou until he regained his sanity, only to once more repeat the cycle. H knew it was coming, but he felt as if he could do nothing to stop it, nothing except to try his damndest to hold onto that sanity, to wait until after he finished his surely near impossible goal to bring the gods to their knees, to bloody the moon as he swore, to show what happened when they allowed a monster such as him to exist. This time his insanity seemed to have form, the form of this jester, coaxing out the madness within him stirring it up like a virus. He was sure that the jester held no idea of what was happening, and of course he would utter no word to the fact, no sign that he would become weak; Horo would not allow his weakness to be shown to such a wildcard, to this Joker. However, it would most likely be this madman who would aid him in bringing down the almighty beings, to shatter their power; to shatter the peoples’ ideals of these past-celestial entities which so few had truly seen, which there was so much speculation about their image. One way or the other, something truly powerful would die, and the pale fiend had no intention of it being him, so he would lock his grip upon his sanity, even as he was being led out the once mighty doors of an ancient cathedral, the pulsing of his fiendish blade subsiding as it left the place, feeling the holy energies within which pained it so. Ogichi knew that the blade was tied to him, but he never could imagine such a thing could be alive. |
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2:50 PM Jul 11

