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| A Nights Terror [Open]; Rated Rish...Blood and violence. | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Wed Apr 16, 2008 6:15 pm (426 Views) | |
| Manic Deathstorm | Wed Apr 16, 2008 6:15 pm Post #1 |
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(( OOC: Kind of a crappy post I know, but I needed to get something going. )) “Surrender your life…Surrender your soul, give into the darkness that is your mind…” “I already have,” responded the deep yet soft voice of the man known as Manic. “Remember your family…? Show me your cruel intent, show this world your every hate filled desire!” The man’s eyes slid tightly shut, trying the best he could to block out the images sparked by the Voice’s words. Failing horribly, the man would begin to shiver in an undeniable rage and would soon collapse to his knees. Every single muscle of his body tensed and un-tensed spasmodically, while his hands held themselves down just down bellow his slumped forward head, digits curled in their nature. Within time a low key growl bellowed forth from the depths of his larynx, eyes turning a glowing shade of crimson. During the entire act, patrons of the city would gather around him to see if he needed help, while others would try their best to move around him in order to avoid confrontation. That was when the man sprung instantly to his feet, his right hand swinging out to the face of a passing civilian only to catch the young females head within the grip of his hand. The action brought about a startled half-gasp and sudden struggle from the woman as she tried the best she could to escape the offenders grip with little to no avail. In his enraged state, Manic proceeded in lifting the woman effortlessly into the air by her head so there were a good couple of inches from her feet to the ground. A snarl upturned the corner of his lips, breath issuing its course through the now exposed razor sharp teeth and against the woman’s flesh of her neck. The patrons by now had become ecstatic in their plight to do something about the woman and the man that they did nothing more than run off to perhaps alert the city guard of the action or maybe find some aid to help them. Regardless the reason, Manic’s blood red eyes would not peel themselves from the woman, enjoying the scent of her fear, the squirms of her body, and the screams that came issued from her lips. Oh the sickening joy of turning ones misery upon another, it was something that truly excited him, sending the flow of blood coursing through his every vein and deep within the very core of his being. That of course all came to a dead stop once the woman grew silent in her screaming, leaving him to grow bored of the woman almost instantly. With a sickening grin, his right arm would tense and his form would rock forward to bring the woman down to the ground on her back. The second her back would connect with the cobblestone, her head would follow driven by the sheer force of his strength. The impact of her skull colliding with the ground sent a loud sickening crack out throughout the silence of the night; sending crimson liquid pooling out around her now lifeless body. A sickening grin crossed the stoic appearance of his countenance at the sheer sight of the woman’s blood and scent of it as it began to filter its way into his nose. Wasting little time, the digits of his hand would part from their imprinted points on her face, before lightly gliding their way down across her countenance, making sure to close the lids of her eyes in the process. When the parted finally from her face, the hand would then drop down to her chest to help him back to his feet, where he would stand satisfied by the freshly killed woman bellow. Though, his eyes would seem to be distracted by something else as they flicked across each person around him, challenging in their nature as they searched out the first person that would raise arms against him from his actions… |
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| Pandora Fayte | Sun Apr 20, 2008 5:54 pm Post #2 |
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A single man would step into the midst of the crowd, no weapons armed, no armor, nothing that would provide him any protection agaisnt a demon as this. He wore a simple top hat, black, with a purple strip of cloth in the middle, the hat pulled low over his eyes. He was dressed in a rather showy suit, a purple tie tucked neatly into the top, black top and black pants, and shiny black shoes. A few lengths of black hair would flow from beneath the hat, a bit of unruly bangs there. As he would look up, sliding his hat back a bit, his light blue eyes would connect with the man before him, a slow smile crossing his face. "I am Pandora. Quite nice to meet you." With that, he would take a step forward, his left hand dipping down to his left hip, to something hidden out of sight. It would bring forth a single white mask, the white purity of it stained on one hald by what looked to be purple and black paint, or actual bruise marks. The mask had a mouth painted on it, one half of the lips upturned in a crazy smile and laugh, the other half turned down in what looked to be a very plain frown. There were only eyeslits in the mask, no visible spot for a mouth to talk through, or anything. Pandora would bring his hand up to his face, and snap the mask on, the thing fitting his face almost perfectly. As he spoke again, his voice would sound a bit gruff this time, rough and hoarse, dampened by the lack of an opening near his lips. "You maniac, you." That was most definitely mocking. At those words, suddenly, every shadow from every person watching this spectacle, every shadow from the crowd gathered around would spring to life, snapping up from the ground and writhing in some odd dance. They would reach out to Pandora and swirl around him, and soon, sounds would be heard coming from them. Whispers, in some other language. Low, eerie whispers, no true meaning behind them. Pandora would just stand there, waiting for the raged man to take a move, for he knew he would. The man was truly a maniac. The screams would start then, the crowd just having seen too much. Some may already be screaming because of the murder that had just took place, but now, this was too much. Shadows dancing, a crazed man, it was all just too much. Some would take off running, some wouldn't even bother. Some would cheer for this man who had stepped up to take on Maniac, some would be just as afraid of him. The mask gave him a somewhat evil look, and protruded something of a horrid aura. |
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| Manic Deathstorm | Sun Apr 20, 2008 7:17 pm Post #3 |
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Parting from the sea of bystanders came a man who seemed quite out of place in this entire altercation, leaving Manic’s head to come to a curious tilt in its mannerism. All forms of rage, anguish, pain, and demonic intent seemed to wash from his face much more rapidly than it came. Through all the stages of his insanity, this one was only the first and the most easiest to satiate with a simple and lowly kill. Such knowledge of them all came through the countless eons he spent trying to fight them, only to later succumb to each and every one when they came. The battle record with him and his inner demon fell to favor the latter, but over the years he simply gave up the fight. The sick enjoyment of bringing suffering to the innocent was simply too intoxicating to pass up. Now…Now this man dared to confront him, was he asking for death or was he simply biding for a higher being as an ally? It perplexed him really, though when he thought about it, countless others faced off with him when they clearly stood no chance. The list would only seem to grow with the passing of time. Issuing an inward shrug at the thoughts that plagued his mind, all attention would quickly shift direction towards the man before him. A peculiar looking man, especially with the mask shielding his countenance. Intrigue riddled Manic’s features while he continued to bore his eyes into the man, occasionally shifting his head from one side to the other in order to get a different outlook on the man. Was this a game of charades now…? All thoughts would cease at the very sound of the man’s voice, allowing them to linger just within his mind to play over and over again. Oh what a lovely compliment…A maniac, if the man thought this was bad, then he would need to show him on a better day what maniacal was really about. Of course the mocking part hadn’t registered, nor did he really care to register it…After all, it was such a blissful response from an unknown man. “Manic Deathstorm…The King of Kings, the Lord of Lords...A pleasure to meet you Pandora…” Each word came out in a slightly tantalizing tone, only to slow and drag out the name of the man in front of him, making sure to pronounce each syllable as methodical as he could before continuing, “A maniac…? Oh please, you’re going to make me blush.” To add to his words, both of his hands would lift to his face to lightly pat the tips of his digits against his cheeks, “Oh…My mistake….” An arrogant grin slid across the soft slender contours of his lips, curling them up at the corner. “Tell me, what’s with the clown suit and the mask? This isn’t Halloween I hope you realize; although, if you really want to scare people more than that, just take the mask back off, I’m sure its effects will be greater.” By now he was simply jeering at the man, hoping to get some sort of rise out of him, if not then perhaps the encounter would be more boring than originally intended. Off to the side of them a few straggling patrons lingered, though behind objects of some form of solidity in hopes of ‘protecting’ themselves so they could still watch. Others had ducked into alleyways, doorways, and even nearby buildings themselves in order to watch the confrontation, clearly hoping to see if the man would get his just desserts from the one called Pandora. The odd thing about the standoff is that neither seemed to hold a weapon, other than Manic who held a stick strapped to his back, which held no obvious threat to it. As curious as the citizens were, there seemed to be an apparent boredom within their eyes while they watched the two stand and stare at each other. That was of course until Manic began to move… Pushing off with his right foot, the man would stride forward in a methodical and jeering pace, making sure to keep all of his attention focused upon the man’s torso for any signs of movement, “I think I get it now….” His eyes seemed to expand at the exclamation, a sense of realization spreading across his face, but the pace of his feet would continue during the display, “You just came from a masquerade and you’re just trying to play the part of Mr. Hero! Well, bravo, bravo…you’ve certainly had me going!” To express the words better, a hand would lift to drape itself over his “startled” heart, only to shortly after burst out into a cynical laughter, “Ahhh! The glory of charlatans, you’re the same as the rest, so run along, before you get hurt.” The sheer second the last word parted from his lips, all movement would cease and his frame would once again grow still. The distance that separated the two of them came to a minimal of nearly ten feet, leaving enough to breath, but keeping it close enough to where if things began to get ugly, it wouldn’t take much to initiate action. For now the man would simply await Pandora’s response with a grin upon his face. |
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| Pandora Fayte | Sun Apr 20, 2008 9:02 pm Post #4 |
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((OOC: I am a bit rusty.)) As Maniac took his steps forward, Pandora would remain motionless. His hands would slowly go behind his back to clasp there, and he would tilt his head to the side, much like Maniac, as if looking upon a odd specimen. He did not move an inch, did not budge, did not make any action or response as Maniac laughed, spoke, mocked, and watched. His eyes were the only thing that moved an inch, following the maniac wherever he went. Those clear blue eyes, never flickering, never pausing as they watched. It was as if he could not escape the scrutiny. The shadows would continue to spin around the Pandora, never touching him, still whispering, as if a odd illusion of the light. Every now and then, a shadow would reach out to touch at Maniac, but would never actually make it, the tendril darting away before it made contact. He wasn't sure how to treat this. He usually did things of the moment, and just let the pieces fall where they may. Why did he put on the mask? When did that happen? Confusion would light the blue eyes for a moment, and he would take a step back, glancing around, as if suddenly unsure of himself. He was. The mask was something he put on for cold comfort, but now, it was making him a bit too couragous. This man had just killed someone. How could he stand up to a true maniac? The mask. It would help him. It would protect him. A grin crossing his face under the white shield, he would step forward, and then step forward again, until he was about an inch away from touching Maniac. His eyes would stare into Maniac's, unfearing, unflinching. The shadows would suddenly vanish, and fly back to their respective places, without a whisper of sound. "I think I will leave it on. The only reason to take it off would be to put it on you. Revealing myself is a small price to pay to cover yourself. And you say it isn't Halloween? Surprising. Then is the freak show in town? Perhaps you should run back to your cage and find the chain you were attached to?" The voice was low and rough again, the eyes challenging. The tone of voice Pandora spoke in was one of slight amusement, as if he was enjoying sparring the words. His head was still cocked to the side as he considered the man, eyes never leaving Maniac's eyes for a minute. |
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| Manic Deathstorm | Sun Apr 20, 2008 10:38 pm Post #5 |
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What gull the man had to close the distance between them like he was some macho sort of man. It actually brought an inward laughter to his mind at the sheer thought of this man being macho. A macho man wearing a mask, psch get real…Whoever needed to hide behind a mask was only trying to add a scarier demeanor to themselves that never existed to begin with. As they say, once born as a weakling, always a weakling…There’s no changing something like that, especially in this man’s case. Parting his gaze from Pandora’s, the soft onyx hues of his eyes would drift languidly down to their chests, taking a mental note of the distance that separated them. All emotion left his face, leaving it stoic in nature for the time being while his thoughts jumbled themselves through the chaos of his mind. Thoughts of death, destruction, blood, and mangled corpses spread across his subconscious like a tidal wave, only to wash away into thoughts of the man in front of him. Completely of malicious intent, twisted desires, and tainted visions the thoughts would continue their way through his mind, until everything fell still, silent, and black. Carefully his head would roll to the side, eyes curious in their exploration of the mask and the eyes of the man, as the tip of his tongue flickered out through parted lips to lightly glide across their soft pink exterior, dampening them in the process. No one had the guts to stand up to him, to stand in his face, to mock him in utter distaste…Oh how it made him grin inwardly. The sheer thought of having such a man at his disposal, to have at his side, and to make him serve him when the time came sent shivers of excitement down his spine. One day Manic would become powerful, those that associated with him would ride his coat tails and the world would know destruction. While the random thoughts continued, the tongue flickered back into his mouth and his lips would press to a thin line before curling to another grin. In one smooth motion, a step was taken and his exposed chest came against the man in front of him. Eyes bore themselves devilishly into Pandora’s in a mock stare, while each of his hands clenched and unclenched themselves spasmodically, preparing themselves for any sudden actions and to be ready on an instants matter. If the man wanted to play who will back down first, it was the wrong game to be playing with him, Cordelia could fill in that bit of information for him. The soft hiss of breath issued forth at the part of his lips as they began to draw themselves back over his teeth, gradually exposing their sharp jagged nature, glistening in the soft light of the lanterns that littered the street. Slowly his mouth would shut again, drawing once more to a fine line, “You think that offends me…? It’s a compliment really, but why don’t you go ahead and give me that mask. If it’s supposed to make you scarier as you so seem to think, then I’ll be absolutely frightening when I plunge Fehade into the darkness of the Abyss. Along side of you…” Again Manic’s tongue would flicker out betwixt his lips, this time extending towards the mask only to nearly touch it, before swishing it across his lips in a slow methodical manner, “Ah…My cage of bondage, such a wonderful place that was. Chains, leather straps, collars, and people who beat me. SUCH AN INVIGORATING SENSE IT IS TO HAVE YOUR FLESH BROKEN!” In that sudden outburst of words, both of his arms would jolt up to a parallel position to the ground, extending themselves as far as they could off to his flanks. In the same motion, his torso would arch backwards, head rocking back as well, taking a few steps back in the process. Once his feet stopped shuffling across the pavement, the upper portion of his torso would rock forward in slumped fashion, head dangling, forearms dropping to dangle downwards, but the upper portion would remain vigilant in their positions. From there a soft sway would pick up in his frame, starting at his forearms as they swung back and forth like a pendulum, then his head as it rolled from side to side, and then his upper torso. It was all merely a distraction though, because at the sheer blink of the eye, every muscle in his body would tense up, causing his forearms to swing back up to their parallel position and his head to resettle back upon a level point. At that instant of motion a faint light traced the outline of his body, before picking up to a blinding flash, only to be followed by a deafening bang. ( FlashBurst. ) Having previously settled his eyes just over the shoulder of Pandora, the lids of his eyes would slide themselves shut the moment the light faded to instantly teleport him behind the man. ( Blink. ) Now back to back with him, a smug grin would cross his lips as he gradually turned around to face the man’s back to see what the effects of his spell entailed... |
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| Pandora Fayte | Sun Apr 20, 2008 11:15 pm Post #6 |
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Once again, the masked man known as Pandora would be standing there completely motionless, in a maddening way. Every shout, everything that he recieved from Maniac would be as if it was sliding off of him, blue eyes staring steadily, not a single word echoing from him as the insane one spoke. He seemed to be an immovible stone, or emotionless, one of the too. Yet as the insane and brutal, sadistic words flowed out, even Pandora's eyes would widen, behind the mask. He hadn't been expecting this. He just had to trust in the mask. As the flash would go off, Pandora would let out a strangled yell, staggering back a step as his hands shot up to protect the eyes that had been blinded. This simple reaction would throw Maniac's Blink movement off a little bit, and when he had probably meant to be about an inch or few feet away from Pandora, he would actually find himself physically back-to-back with the man. Pandora's body would stiffen up as he felt the sudden touch on his back, and he would stand straight, his hands still held up to his eyes, as if protecting them from the flash, or as if he didn't want to see the world as it was. The crowd would be in a hush now, suddenly realizing that their masked savior was apparently outclassed, for now he seemed scared stiff. He would remain silent for a moment, and then, something clicked. He would spin, and his hands would blindly grope for the man's shirt collar, until Pandora finally found some form of shirt or material to grab onto. If he indeed was allowed to, he would use the shirt to pull himself up into the face of the Maniac, and if not, he would still yell the same thing, his voice rough, harsh, completely different from before. Maniacal. "You want the mask?! You could wear it! It would take away all of your problems! It talks to me sometimes, it tells me what to do! It tells me what I must do to get what I want! It can help you, save you! Release you from your torment, or chain others to a torment much similar! It tells me what to do so I can KILL you." The shadows would suddenly leap to life again, raising high, this simply a mere illusion that shadow dancer powers could prove. They would let out several loud screeches, screaming their rage to the sky, and chanting words over and over again that could not be understood. They would writhe with pain and fury, forming shapes of tortured people, of dying people. Some would reach out to Maniac for help, and some would simply drift away, turning into another shadow. "SHOW ME YOUR FURY, YOU MANIAC!!!" He would babble this while blinded, his eyes closed. A huge grin would be lit under his mask, and even now, he would be laughing. Laughing so hard tears were leaking down the cheeks of the mask. |
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| Manic Deathstorm | Mon Apr 21, 2008 12:21 am Post #7 |
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An incredible sense of apathy washed throughout the entire being of the man know as Manic; so much so that it would seem his entire body would melt into a pool of liquid with its sudden fluidity. Even as the man took up the collars of Manic’s one of a kind jacket and gruffly pulled himself face to face with the other, no emotion would play its placement across his face. Instead he would only stare, watching the movements of the jaw, chin, and muscles of the neck beneath the shroud of the mask. Did this man truly think he was scary...In all honestly he wasn’t all too convincing. Stretches of shadows eeked their way from around them, contorting, twisting, and grazing around him, but still the same stoic face would retain its placement upon Manic. Gracefully the lids of his eyes slid closed and opened in succession to reveal that the placement of his gaze had changed only to now be focused upon the hands grappled tightly to the collar of his jacket. How annoying…Came a thought in his mind. While the eyes continued their focus on Pandora’s hands, the teeth that lined his mouth would pass over each other in a grinding fashion. Just then a swirl of black energy kicked up around Manic, thick black lines passing in a global like fashion, contorting and twisting as they had. Occasionally a strand would pass through the man in front of him, but for the most part it would engulf him as well in their elliptical movements around Manic. From that spell would follow the next, as crackles of black energy broke across his body in a skittering fashion to conjoin with others, until they began to shape a mock armor across his torso. If one would look close enough, the faces of the deceased would press against its surface, stretching it and bending it to its every contour, before allowing the appearance to fall flat again. The process would seem to continue endlessly as the spirits constantly tried to push their way free from the armors binds. Yet again another spell would play its part active, this time enhancing his body directly in an impressive display. Each muscle dilated, expanded, and defined themselves further, before finally contracting back to their ordinary state. In hindsight nothing looked really all that changed in him, other than the brief sight of what took place. Though, Pandora would find out physically just how much had changed in him…He would make this man pay for touching his jacket. As far as he was concerned, NO ONE had a right to touch his jacket, they could slap him in the face, punch him in the stomach, and even throw him off a cliff, but the second someone touched his jacket…That…That was another story. Wasting no further time, both of his hands would lurch up to the man’s wrists to grab them and hold them dead in their place. There was no doubt that if they managed to snag a hold of them, Pandora would be truthfully and utterly screwed…Should he succeed, both of his hands would hold the man dead in his spot to keep him from moving and a knee would lift up to drive itself into the stomach of the man with what force he could muster from his current position. |
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| Pandora Fayte | Mon Apr 21, 2008 1:49 pm Post #8 |
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His emotions had gotten ahold of him at that one. He usually did not break like that, but with someone near as twisted as him, if not more, the murderous intent had just spilled over the edge of the cup. He would have to practice more self control, for if any kind of plan he ever had agaisnt this world was bound to work, then he would have to play the part of something he was not. However, he was quite talented at Masquerades. It was something that he led every day, in every life. His eyes were now open too, and had met Manic's, and now moved down in tune with his gaze to stare upn the hands that had grabbed the jacket. Something clicked in the back of Pandora's mind, and from the look upon Manic's face, something had snapped within his as well. Pandora readied himself, emotionlessly staring down at his own hands now, waiting for any kind of movement from his apparent opponent. He realized what a dangerous position he was in, but this was needed. It would further his plans, if the man knew it or not. All he needed to do here, was play the part of a hero. So when the muscles on Manic expanded, the man did not move. When the Ghostly Armor fled across Manic's skin, he would not move. Pandora would continue to emotionlessly look down at the hands that were still latched upon the jacket, not moving. Tearstains still marred the front of his mask, the reason for the actual mask still a mystery to everyone around him. In truth, there were many reasons for it. Only the people that were here today would be able to say they had seen what had laid beneath the mask. And even then, those stories would be widely changed, after he was through. Win their trust. So when Maniac's hands darted up, Pandora himself would look up, meeting Manic's eyes. With an odd look to his gaze, Pandora would let go of the jacket, and simply stand there. It was strange, for without question, it was something he could have dodged. The time it took to cast the two spells that obviously did something to Manic, that was something. Even when Manic had lifted up his hands, every impulse in Pandora, both his Shadowdancer skills and his own reflexes had told him to dance away, or to shove a dagger anywhere from a vital point on the armpit, to the actual heart. If it could even get past that ghastly armor the man was wearing. But no. To the gasps of the crowd, his stomach would get smashed, several ribs popping in an sound of agony. He would be lifted off his feet from the full force of the knee to the stomach, and his mouth would open, a bit of blood spurting out from something snapping within. As he landed back on his feet, when the knee came back down, blood would be dripping down from the insides of the mask, adding on to the strange appearance of an already odd mask. The whole time though, Pandora's eyes would hold Manic's, in a suddenly apathetic way, maddingly just watching Manic, studying him. This was a gamble, or he was dead. |
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| Manic Deathstorm | Tue Apr 22, 2008 5:54 am Post #9 |
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Dead silence filled the air following the action, faces twisted in shock and fright at the spectacle before them. Thoughts flittered through their minds, wondering whether the masked man could truly save them from damnation at the hands of Manic, but it would seem to be a fleeting hope with the blood that issued forth from the mask of Pandora. Not an utterance of word or shudder of breath would break the lingering silence, only blank stares would be the result of the action in front of them. Oh how priceless it was to bring the hopes of those around him crashing to a stuttering halt, to take it all and throw it out the window like meaningless papers in the morning breeze. Manic’s foot lowered gracefully only to gently rest upon the surface of the cobblestone, all weight still apparently upon the other leg while he simply stood watching. Again no emotion played upon his features; instead his eyes were the only ones to belie any hint of it while they studied the man before him intently. There was nothing that said this man couldn’t have avoided such a blow, considering he took the time to withdraw his hands from Manic’s jacket and there was no secrecy in his movements. Perhaps if he had added to the list of spells he held active, there could have been a higher difficulty to doing so…Which made him wonder what this man was intending or thinking. Each of his arms folded one over the other across his chest in an uncaring manner, “Seems you’re no looking so well… How about I give you two options, the first is you drop the charade, take up my side, and serve the darkness that we both know consumes your soul. Orrr…your second option is to stand and accept the fate I deem you. Forever doomed to watch as I methodically rip the life and soul from your very body, rape you of your existence and devour your blood and body. Should you refuse either, I will continue with the second option regardless. This choice cannot be bartered, I am no merchant…” The tone seemed to be monotonous, but all the while kept certain darkness to it. It wasn’t a tactic to scare the man; instead it was meant to get his point across to him without issue. The option the man would choose held all of fate, once it was chosen; there would be no undoing it. Would this man truly understand the gravity of such choices that he would take into account every possibility, every turn out, and even what each entailed truly? Albeit the whole thing really didn’t matter much to him, all that did was the second option and how much fun it would be to tear this man apart piece by piece. Though deep within the caresses of his mind, there played a thought of what this man would be like within his services. There was no visible quit, no intimidation, no fear, and certainly the man was only slightly on the insane side of things. Only slightly… Moving his right hand upwards, it would sweep up to the side of his face where all of his fingers would curl inward to rest against his cheek, which his index stretched itself and rested along the contour of his cheek. Using placement of his left arm, it would support the now propped right arm, giving him an almost thinking appearance, as if considering something. In truth, no thought would linger in his mind other than the one about to be voiced, “If it would help you decide, I could show you the true gravity of your plight and how little of a chance you truly stand against me. At your current point, you wouldn’t even be worth the dirt on the bottom of my shoe in a fight against me. The only thing I’ve seen out of you is your Shadow Dancer abilities…Quite useless when pitted against someone who knows and uses the abilities well.” A slight shrug lifted his shoulders and dropped them just as quickly, “I need a choice though, the clock is ticking.” When the words left his mouth, both arms would drop back to his sides in a haphazard manner, while he patiently waited for the man’s decision. |
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8:16 AM Jul 11

