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[CHAR] The Seven Deadly Sins [LF Lust and Sloth]
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- GM Holy Soldier
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GM
Holy Soldier Divine Justice
Member
Seen
4 yrs ago
Name: Princess Evelyn "Eve" Caroline
Age: 20
Height: 5'3"
Weight: 120 lbs.
Hair Color: Brown
Eye Color: Gray
Gender: Female
Written Appearance: As a princess, Evelyn always wore dresses. Gowns, corsets, and more gowns. She was never allowed to show any skin below her shoulders. Such a life was normal for her and she didn't think much of it. It wasn't until she was chased from her kingdom that she found herself having to wear other garments. She had to dress herself in whatever she could find, giving up her puffy and decorative dress. She travels in the clothes of a pauper. Itchy sack cloth shirt and pants and deer skin shoes. Her milk-white skin is smudged in dirt and her once wavy and shiny brown hair is tied behind her back with an old shoe lace. She still holds onto her family's signet ring, wearing it on a leather thread about her neck so that it's hidden beneath her shirt. There was a reason why the Carolines hid their daughter behind layers of clothes. She is beautiful and had many suitors wishing to take her hand...not anymore.
Personality: It is Eve's first time outside the castle and she is very naive to being swindled by the clever tricksters of the streets. She speaks very formally, which is usually a sign of a noble upbringing. She is respectful and timid of the strangers who were either formally her subjects or from another kingdom entirely. Eve knows how delicate she is, but she is determined to save her parents from the Church of the White. She doesn't know if she will even succeed in finding the Seven Sins. She doesn't even know if she will survive the journey. All Eve knows is that she has to try!
Background: Princess Evelyn Caroline is the daughter of King Patreus and Queen Melody. She is their only child and has been safely guarded from the world until now. Everything began when a Great Holy Knight by the name of Hector Mineaus came to her kingdom to assist them in dealing with a barbaric clan of giants. The clan's leader was named Barakas and he was known to feed the humans to his giant hounds. With the king's permission, Hector was allowed to lead his army against the clan. He succeeded in slaying Barakas, and the Carolines honored him with a celebration. It was at the celebration that Hector approached Evelyn and secretly tried to woo her. Evelyn shyly rejected the knight's attempts to his silent anger. The day after the party was when the Church of the White was suddenly upon the capitol. There was talk of a resistance against the Carolines. The story was that because the Carolines had requested aid from the church to handle the giants rather than send their own army that the people were in outrage. The Carolines weren't even given a chance to have an audience with their kingdom before they were moved into a sanctuary that seemed more like a heavily-guarded prison.
Before the Holy Knights could detain Evelyn, the king ordered her protector to take her out of the castle. The protector against the Holy Knights orders did as his king commanded and fled the castle with Evelyn. He rode as far as he could with the knights on his tail. When he feared his horse would tire before they would lose them, Eve's protector stayed behind to fight the Holy Knights so that she could escape. Eve, afraid to be alone in this foreign world, reluctantly rode off leaving her protector behind and the last relation she had to her family.
Current Story: Her horse long gone and her dress long ruined, Eve was forced to travel Gaea alone. She is learning to endure the hardship of survival and no longer having servants to rely on. There have been those kind to her, but there were more who were cruel, forcing her to be wary of strangers. Having discovered the wanted posters for the Seven Deadly Sins, she remembered tales of their power and decided to find them. They just might be strong enough to take her kingdom back from the church and free her parents.
GM
Holy Soldier Divine Justice
Member
Seen
4 yrs ago
N A M E
Grimjet Clermont; The Butcher; The Butcher of the Sea; The Pirate King
A G E
Appears to be in his early 30s
S I N
Gluttony
H E I G H T
5'10" (varies when he eats)
W E I G H T
210 lbs (varies when he eats)
H A I R C O L O R
Red
E Y E C O L O R
Blue
G E N D E R
Male
W R I T T E N A P P E A R A N C E
Grimjet has crimson hair and not the usual orange-ginger kind though he still gets called a "ginger" at times. His eyes are as blue as the sea and are his most eye-catching quality. Behind his lips are disturbing, shark-like teeth. They are triangular and seem to follow the shark's curse of his brand. The pirate king once wore a leather coat with white downy fur lining the collar. Belts crisscrossed his hips, and dark trousers rode down his legs into boots. He often wore a mask to hide his identity not wanting to let his rivals know who they were messing with on the sea. His second eye-catching quality is his body—when he isn’t porking out on food and grog. Grimjet can get pretty huge depending on the size of feast he’s partaking in, which disturbs or fascinates others. He carries with him an Arc that he calls simply, "His Knife." Others call it, "The Butcher’s Knife." It is a suitable weapon for a man with such an insatiable appetite. His body is covered in various scars from his numerous battles on the sea. Who knew Holy Knights could swim? (duh dum tish!)
B R A N D A P P E A R A N C E
Grimjet’s brand is on his abdomen just below his navel in the form of a shark circled by an ouroboros. The shark represents his ravenous appetite and the serpent that surrounds it, how endless it is.
P E R S O N A L I T Y
Grimjet has many pleasures and he enjoys them all in abundance. He loves good food, good grog, and gorgeous women, and he’s rather shameless in his indulgences. Becoming a pirate was only fitting for him. Grimjet is pretty cocky to the point that he thinks everything is a game. In battle, he tends to be the benefactor, slowly devouring his enemies and their powers until there is nothing left. His capacity for devouring abilities seems nearly endless, but food and drink...well, his body has a limited capacity that he likes to exceed every once and in a while. He claims his actual curse is having such a large appetite and not having a body large enough to compensate for it. He also claims that his gluttony is his strength, which is true, but doesn’t make him number one on the guest list at banquets.
The Sin is rather mischievous and is quite the party-goer. Wherever there’s food or drink, he’ll be there—especially if it’s free. His appetite makes him terrible with money, but that’s why he was a pirate because whenever he ran out, he’d just acquire more loot to spend! Mind you, this was all before the banishing.
The Sin is rather mischievous and is quite the party-goer. Wherever there’s food or drink, he’ll be there—especially if it’s free. His appetite makes him terrible with money, but that’s why he was a pirate because whenever he ran out, he’d just acquire more loot to spend! Mind you, this was all before the banishing.
B A C K G R O U N D
To be revealed when he acquires his lost memory.
C U R R E N T S T O R Y
After Grimjet was banished across the globe by the White God’s power, he landed in the sea and drifted, unconscious for several days before his body washed up on the shore of Fairy Island. The fairies didn’t take too kindly to foreigners and imprisoned him. Having attempted to execute him in countless ways, they eventually discovered his uncanny ability and learned that leaving him alone was the best execution. Starved and unable to satiate his hunger and thirst, Grimjet succumbed to his own appetite. He supposedly died and was found limbless, having eaten his own arms and legs, which made it impossible for him to escape his confinement. His husk remains on Fairy Island, posted as a warning to all visitors to turn back or they’ll end up the same way.
W E A P O N
The Butcher's Knife is a massive cleaver that is four-feet long and one foot thick. There are three holes near the end of the blade for draining, and draining is what the Arc weapon specializes in. Each cut on an enemy draws life from his foe and gives it to its wielder. While his enemies grow weaker, Grimjet grows stronger, feasting on their vitality. [Reference]
A B I L I T Y
Devour is Grimjet’s trademark skill. He can eat practically anything like a walking black hole, and he will proudly proclaim that there’s nothing out there that he can’t eat. Using devour, Grimjet can consume enemies, their weapons, and their abilities as nourishment for his body, making him stronger. The size of the enemy doesn’t matter and neither does the amount. There’s only one catch. No enemy will allow themselves to be devoured so easily, which is why it can require tact at times. Using his meat cleaver, the vitae that is hacked from his enemies is devoured until his enemies are too weak to run away. When an enemy is placed into such a vulnerable position, then Grimjet takes advantage of the opportunity. Whatever ability he devours does not become his. This isn't a copy cat move. It just makes him physically stronger and even more eager to be satisfied.
A wood-brown blimp sailed through a sea of white stratus clouds as it quietly crept upon its moaning target. Knights stood in two silver square formations on the wooden deck, waiting with disciplined patience for the order to charge. Up a small staircase, standing at the bow of the ship before the helm was a beautiful man. His hair was white and like cotton pooling upon his shoulders. Wings of silver protruded from his shoulder pauldrons as a light-blue cape wafted in the breeze behind him, bearing woven design of a white Tree of Life—the symbol of the Church of the White. His blue eyes stared into an argent expanse. The helmsman, a younger soldier with brown hair, gazed upon their commander and asked, “Sir, are you sure the pirate king’s ship would be in the sky? Wouldn’t it be on the sea?”
Just then, they heard another moan. It resonated throughout the cloud screen. The cries of a whale. The holy knight frowned and ordered, “Take us down.”
Pulling a lever, the airship began its descent, diving like a submarine into the cloud bed as the clouds split like water about it. The entire ship vanished in a fog. The helmsman could no longer see his commander or even his hand before his face. The blimp then emerged, breaking through the cloud ceiling into a yellow buttery pocket of space. The sun shined through a tunnel of churning cumulus clouds and drifting before the airship was the creature they had been chasing. Swimming through the air was a mighty humpback whale, and on its back, the pirate king’s ship, The Kojira!
The holy knight smiled malevolently. The helmsman smiled, “Captain Siegfried, you found it!”
The captain ran the back of his hand through his glossy locks and replied snobbishly, “Of course I did. I have been studying the Kojira’s movements for months. Every attack, every pillage…it only took time to connect the dots and realize that there was a trick. I never thought it would be on the back of an actual kojira…prepare to board!”
Prepare to board!
An abrupt war cry from the formed units resounded.
“Full speed ahead!” the captain ordered.
“Full speed ahead!” the helmsman acknowledged.
The airship soared toward the whale-mounted-ship. The birds that had been circling its white sails scattered. Strangely, the airship was able to creep right above the pirate ship without conflict. The captain gazed over the rail at the deck of the pirate ship below. He hadn’t seen a single crewmember. Immediately he wondered, was it deserted? It couldn’t have been. That would have been too easy.
One of the lieutenants peered over the ship rail next and frowned at the inactivity they were seeing. “Sir, I don’t like it,” he told his captain.
Siegfried continued to regard the pirate ship for a lengthy minute. He had finally found it, but his instincts were telling him something was off. He felt nervous—scared even.
I fear only the White God, Siegfried told himself.
“Sir?” the helmsman called to him.
The captain turned away from the edge and walked over to the balcony to stand before his company. “Second Platoon stand fast and guard the airship. First Platoon board!”
The lieutenant raised his fist over his heart and hammered it against his armor in salute before he faced his men and echoed the command, “Ready the ladders! Board the ship!”
The platoon of spirited knights began dropping lengthy rope ladders onto the pirate deck below. Swiftly, each soldier descended collecting on the deck with their swords drawn and surveying what appeared to be a deserted ship. They waited for their lieutenant as he dropped from the ladder last and gazed about at the quiet ship.
Thrusting out an arm, he commanded, “Search the bloody ship!”
Barrels were turned over, cabins were turned upside down, and the galley ransacked. The only place they hadn’t searched was a lone little house on the deck with a small crescent moon window carved into the door. A knight posted at the door, gripping its handle. The lieutenant lowered his long sword, gripping its hilt with both hands, and holding the blade parallel to the floor. He was prepared to skewer whoever was behind it. The lieutenant’s green eyes met his knight’s brown, and he nodded. The knight jerked open the door and as the lieutenant motioned to attack, he was repelled by a wave of rank. The stench passed through his nostrils nearly making him faint as he quickly staggered backwards, raising an armored glove to his face. The knight who had opened the door was already bent over and vomiting with his back turned. What they stumbled upon was an outhouse and behind a dirty flipbook was a lone man.
The flipbook lowered, revealing a pair of blue narrowed eyes. The man’s red brows were pinched in irritation as he gazed upon a group of gawking knights from inside an outhouse that had obscene graffiti carved and inked all over the walls along with a few pinned poems and dirty paintings. He lowered the book further, his lips unzipping to reveal a handsome smile (maybe it would have been if he wasn’t sitting on a toilet). The man was wearing a sanguine-red leather coat with a collar of white puffy fur forming a horseshoe about his neck. Beneath it was a sculpted muscular torso of old scars inflicted by blades. His charcoal-black trousers were at least modestly at his knees with two brown leather belts threaded through their rungs. His pants were long enough to rest upon the toes of a pair of sturdy black boots. He leaned forward, resting his right forearm on his thigh as he arched a brow, “Oi, ye mind? Want t’try knockin’ first? Tha’ shitters in use.”
The lieutenant stared in disbelief. His green eyes showing disgust over the hand he kept clapped against his face. “Mmfph rmmph hmph!”
The man blinked and turned his head, raising his hand to his ear. “Pardon?”
The lieutenant attempted to remove his hand, but as soon as he opened his mouth, just tasting the odor on his tongue made his face flush green as a wave of vomit gushed into his mouth. His cheeks inflated and quickly he scrambled further away to reclaim some fresh air. Resting his hands on his knees, he reluctantly swallowed his vomit back down, and panted, filtering his lungs with clean air. When he managed to compose himself, he straightened and glared at the man with his sword directed at him.
“Where is your captain?” the lieutenant demanded.
The man narrowed his eyes again. “I be ‘im.”
The lieutenant blinked. “You’re Grimjet Clermont; The Butcher; the Pirate King?”
“Aye.”
The entire platoon was stunned.
“Where’s your crew?”
Grimjet rolled his eyes before he shrugged. “Off raidin’ somewhere?”
“Why aren’t you with them?”
“Cuz I’m takin’ a bloody shit! I said ye mind!”
Grimjet reached out to snag the door and slammed it closed, leaving the entire platoon dumbfounded. Captain Siegfried stepped off the side of the airship and dropped to the deck below. His white hair rippled in his graceful descent, his blue cape flagging above him. When he landed, his boots barely made a sound. His hand went to the golden scepter at his hip. The scepter was two feet in length with a round sphere at the end between two unfurled angelic wings. He drew the weapon, swinging it upwards in an arc as the air between him and the outhouse flashed like lightning. The outhouse spontaneously exploded in a blast of fire. Black smoke soon engulfed the flames before the passing winds wafted it away. Standing in the smoke’s place was Grimjet. His body was smoking, clothes singed a darker color by the flames. Behind him, whipping in the wind was a tail of toilet paper that had been trailing from his pants. Grimjet coughed twice, fanning the remnant wisps of smoke from his face before he slipped his hands into his pants pockets and gave the holy knight an ugly and displeased look. His teeth were irritably bared and his bottom lip poked out. He regarded the beautiful man for a few seconds before he tilted his head and muttered, “’Aven’t I seen ye somewhere befo’?”
Grimjet recalled a story about a black swordsman…Whatever. “Oi, ye got yer church, and me crew had that there shitter ye blew away. Twas’ our sacred place too, y’know?”
Siegfried pointed the scepter at the pirate king. “Where’s your crew?”
Grimjet’s lips twisted in amusement. He must have felt like such a big man pointing that arc at him. “I said raidin’.”
“Why aren’t you with them?”
Behind the distracted first platoon and the holy knight were several balloon boats floating up to the airship. Grimjet tipped his head back and sighed. “Ugh, same old questions. I said I was shit—“
Siegfried had swung his scepter and the air combusted again. The knights watched in awe the power their captain demonstrated. The pirate king must have been regretting his decision to stay.
“I won’t ask again,” said Siegfried. “You’re a coward to have stayed behind.”
As the fire and smoke cleared, Grimjet was revealed with no longer a coat. His leather belts crumpled from his waist into char as his bare skin smoked from the swiftly healing burns. He peered over his shoulder, gazing at the tail of toilet paper that seemed to be preserved. It hadn’t even been singed. That was a good steal… he thought to himself, impressed.
“A captain always goes down wit’ ‘is ship,” Grimjet countered with a careless smile.
“Arm yourself, Monster.”
“Name callin’ now are we? I don’t need me knife to ‘andle ye scalawags.”
Grimjet kept his hands within the pockets of his pants and he grinned wickedly at the holy knight. The lieutenant frowned and regarded his captain. “We’ll handle this, Sir.”
Siegfried doubted his men could, but he had another plan up his sleeve. He nodded to his lieutenant and his lieutenant raised his sword and ordered, “Charge!”
First platoon charged the pirate king while Siegfried raised his scepter vertically and scowled in concentration. His arc began to glow. The platoon of fifty men surrounded Grimjet in five rotating rings. Slowly, they started to close in the circle. There were swords all around him, raised and ready to skewer him if he got too close. The pirate king’s blue eyes shifted left and then right. He glanced over each of his shoulders as his smile only broadened. Before the knights could get too close, Grimjet surprised them by charging toward three in the ring. He dropped upon his right side and slid until his booted feet slammed into the knights’ ankles. He slid through all five ranks, clearing a path before he executed a roll and rose to his feet. He whirled around to face his pursuers, and while walking backwards, he leaned back dipping left and then right at the shoulders to dodge sword swipes from a soldier closing in. Grimjet straightened and swung his left foot upwards to catch the soldier’s sword arm at the wrist. His toe met with the joint, causing a loud snap as the soldier’s wrist went limp.
“Argh!” the soldier screamed as Grimjet dropped his foot and leaning his weight upon it, twisted his body to bring his right leg swinging around toward the soldier’s head. His instep caught the side of his face, sending the soldier spinning like a ragdoll into a rank of soldiers. The rank collapsed, bowled over like pins as Grimjet lowered his foot and sprinted away from the pursuing group to gain some distance. While running toward the stern, Grimjet scooped up a coil of ship rope and faced the group. Grinning impishly, with his inhuman strength, he tossed the rope at one of the soldiers, the knot striking him in the face and sending him instantly to the ground. Snapping the rope back, Grimjet whipped it out again. The rope lashed an entire group, crushing them under its weighted length. The rope whipped wildly, crisscrossing as it tossed soldiers about and sent them to the floor. The lieutenant blocked the rope with his sword, baring his teeth as he felt the strength of the strike pass through his hand. It made his hand numb.
Grimjet retracted the rope once more and leapt into the air. He soared over the lieutenant’s head, dropping the heavy rope coil on top of him as he headed for the holy knight captain.
“Captain!”
Siegfried glanced up at the airship to see second platoon’s lieutenant leaning over the rail.
“We’re under attack!” he shouted.
Siegfried’s eyes widened as he thought, What!?
He watched as a pirate clashed swords with his lieutenant. Had the captain’s crew been present all along? But they had checked the whole ship.
“Captain!” the first platoon lieutenant screamed in warning as he wrestled the rope off of his body.
Siegfried’s attention returned to his current situation just as Grimjet landed before him. Face hardening in a scowl, Siegfried directed his charged scepter at the pirate king as Grimjet whipped his right leg around. As Grimjet’s foot connected harshly with the side of the holy knight’s armor, the strike threw off Siegfried’s aim. The air behind Grimjet’s head combusted into an enormous globe of fire that consumed one of the sails and sent the mast collapsing into the captain’s cabin. Siegfried turned, using the strike’s momentum to allow him to keep his footing. As he turned, his chest plate snapped free as two generous forms tumbled against the white cotton material of her tunic. Grimjet had followed the kick through and was spinning around to face Siegfried as she was spinning around to once again aim her scepter at him. The pirate king’s eyes widened in astonishment when he saw the great bust that was turning to face him. His jaw parted to catch the head of the scepter between his teeth and his hands extended to grasp handfuls of the prominent orbs. The two froze. Siegfried’s eyes were shrunk in shock as she took a moment to gauge the situation. She saw her scepter in Grimjet’s mouth and his hands…Her mouth dropped, seeing his hands buried in her chest without shame.
With an enraged cry, Siegfried’s armored fist connected with Grimjet’s face sending him flying backwards. First platoon stood frozen in shock as they watched their captain fall to one knee crossing her arms before her chest protectively. Grimjet had landed on his back, the scepter gripped within a lewd smile. When he sat up, the man had devolved. The surprise that Siegfried had actually been a babe made him lose all intelligence. He became a metaphorical ape that began screeching and galloping around on its knuckles in excitement.
“OOK! OOK! AH AH AAH!” the perverted chimp screamed.
The lieutenant clapped a hand against his forehead. “I knew this was going to happen…” They had been trying to keep their captain’s womanhood a secret from the pirate king, having learned of his disturbing fondness for women. The last thing they had wanted was for their captain to become one of his obsessions.
“He has the scepter!” the captain shouted.
Grimjet stood and directed the scepter at Siegfried with a triumphant smile. “Aye, I do.”
“Captain!” her worried knights shouted.
Grimjet ordered, “Surrender or tha’ buxom bitch dies!”
Siegfried narrowed her eyes. Buxom…
The lieutenant hissed and then reluctantly ordered his men, “Lower your weapons!”
Siegfried growled, “What are you doing? Fight!”
Grimjet smirked over at her. “Tis checkmate girly. I win.”
One of Grimjet’s pirates yelled down, “We got everything handled up here Captain!”
“Good! Bring it all down,” Grimjet returned.
Once all the knights were collected and placed in the brig (except for the holy knight), and his men were back on board the Kojira, Grimjet went over the booty with his steward.
“Gear?” he asked, glancing over at the pile of armor and weapons they had collected off the White guardsmen.
“Check!” replied the steward.
“Loot?”
There was a pile of collected food, water, stolen coin purses and other supplies they had pilfered from the airship and its crew.
“Check!”
“Ransom?”
They both gazed down in the dark brig at the tied up knights.
“Check!”
Grimjet blushed and raised a hand shyly to his lips as he asked, “Girly?”
The steward forced a smile through his sympathy pains as he glanced over at the captured holy knight captain. “Check!”
Grimjet then held up the scepter. “Sea o’ gold?”
The steward grinned greedily, “Check!”
Grimjet threw back his head and laughed victoriously. “As soon as we sell all o’this we’re gonna be up to our necks in gold mates!”
A strand of drool escaped the corner of his mouth as he thought, We’ll ‘ave enough food and grog fo’ a year.
His crew raised their fists into the air and cheered.
Grimjet inspected the scepter and muttered under his breath, “’Ow’d she use this thing again?”
The pirate king then twirled and struck a pose. His right arm was raised and curled with the palm of his right hand against the back of his head. His left hip was cocked out in a feminine manner as he aimed the golden scepter at the air ship like a magical girl. The blimp then detonated with a bang as its fiery remains tumbled from the sky. Siegfried’s face was flushed in anger and humiliation as she thought, I never once used my arc like that!
Grimjet winked at her and raised a hand to his mouth to blow her an air kiss. The holy knight hissed and screamed, “You better pray to the White God that I don’t get free!”
The steward then noticed the tail of toilet paper that had been hanging from the captain’s pants. He grasped the ribbon of 2-ply and tugged it. Pop! A loud growl resounded from Grimjet’s stomach. The cramps that began gripping his bowels like tight fists caused the pirate king to suddenly bend over with his arms crossed over his tummy in pain. The steward stared blankly until his captain’s distressed face appeared over his shoulder, staring at him as though he wanted to kill him.
“Wah!” the steward shrieked.
The noises were growing louder and Grimjet rasped, “What’d ye go touchin’ shite fer? Augh! It’s like a river o’nails tearin’ through me bowels! I wasn’t finished on tha’ shitter! Augh! It’s trynna’ force its bear claws through me arsehole!”
Grimjet’s hand snagged the back of his ass as he clenched his cheeks together with all of his might. Sweating bullets, he shuffled around seeing only a black charred spot where the outhouse used to be.
“Was that our only shitter?!”
The steward quickly flipped through his account papers. Grimjet stared at him impatiently with tiny eyes. After flipping through all the pages, the steward closed his eyes and fearfully gulped.
“Yes…” he squeaked.
“WHAT!?” Grimjet now on his knees and with both hands smashed against his ass (including the scepter) he screamed at his men, “YE BETTER BUILD ANOTHA’ SHITTER! HURRY! HURRY! HURRY! YE FOOLS!”
Pirates started darting all over the place, rounding up wood from the destroyed mast for the new toilet. Siegfried shouted at Grimjet, “GET MY ARC AWAY FROM YOUR DISGUSTING ASS!”
Grimjet’s cheek was smashed against the deck as he continued to suffer, “It’s trynna drill through me hands! Sendin’ its brown whirlin’ spade through my flesh!”
The steward went green and backed away a few steps from him. The pirates finished building the outhouse in record time and exclaimed, “It’s ready, Captain!”
Grimjet immediately rose to his feet and sprinted faster than he ever had toward it. Siegfried yelled, “Don’t take my arc in there!”
The outhouse door slammed closed and Siegfried screamed, “NAAAAAAAOOOOOOOO~!”
The lieutenant frowned as he listened to all the screaming going on above. “What’s going on up there?” His nose then wrinkled as he caught wind of something foul. There was a horrible noise echoing from the pipe above him. He looked up and the smell only grew fouler. It was coming from the pipe. “Ugh, what is that…?” His eyes then grew large. He remembered the outhouse. He had wondered where it all went and now he knew. “Run!”
The other knights stared at him awkwardly. “This isn’t a prison! It’s the septic tank!”
The brig broke out into chaos as knights climbed over knights in the mad scramble to get away from what was about to explode through the pipes. The worst part was that it was going to be a long journey before the Kojira came across another group of holy knights to ransom them off to.
Just then, they heard another moan. It resonated throughout the cloud screen. The cries of a whale. The holy knight frowned and ordered, “Take us down.”
Pulling a lever, the airship began its descent, diving like a submarine into the cloud bed as the clouds split like water about it. The entire ship vanished in a fog. The helmsman could no longer see his commander or even his hand before his face. The blimp then emerged, breaking through the cloud ceiling into a yellow buttery pocket of space. The sun shined through a tunnel of churning cumulus clouds and drifting before the airship was the creature they had been chasing. Swimming through the air was a mighty humpback whale, and on its back, the pirate king’s ship, The Kojira!
The holy knight smiled malevolently. The helmsman smiled, “Captain Siegfried, you found it!”
The captain ran the back of his hand through his glossy locks and replied snobbishly, “Of course I did. I have been studying the Kojira’s movements for months. Every attack, every pillage…it only took time to connect the dots and realize that there was a trick. I never thought it would be on the back of an actual kojira…prepare to board!”
Prepare to board!
An abrupt war cry from the formed units resounded.
“Full speed ahead!” the captain ordered.
“Full speed ahead!” the helmsman acknowledged.
The airship soared toward the whale-mounted-ship. The birds that had been circling its white sails scattered. Strangely, the airship was able to creep right above the pirate ship without conflict. The captain gazed over the rail at the deck of the pirate ship below. He hadn’t seen a single crewmember. Immediately he wondered, was it deserted? It couldn’t have been. That would have been too easy.
One of the lieutenants peered over the ship rail next and frowned at the inactivity they were seeing. “Sir, I don’t like it,” he told his captain.
Siegfried continued to regard the pirate ship for a lengthy minute. He had finally found it, but his instincts were telling him something was off. He felt nervous—scared even.
I fear only the White God, Siegfried told himself.
“Sir?” the helmsman called to him.
The captain turned away from the edge and walked over to the balcony to stand before his company. “Second Platoon stand fast and guard the airship. First Platoon board!”
The lieutenant raised his fist over his heart and hammered it against his armor in salute before he faced his men and echoed the command, “Ready the ladders! Board the ship!”
The platoon of spirited knights began dropping lengthy rope ladders onto the pirate deck below. Swiftly, each soldier descended collecting on the deck with their swords drawn and surveying what appeared to be a deserted ship. They waited for their lieutenant as he dropped from the ladder last and gazed about at the quiet ship.
Thrusting out an arm, he commanded, “Search the bloody ship!”
Barrels were turned over, cabins were turned upside down, and the galley ransacked. The only place they hadn’t searched was a lone little house on the deck with a small crescent moon window carved into the door. A knight posted at the door, gripping its handle. The lieutenant lowered his long sword, gripping its hilt with both hands, and holding the blade parallel to the floor. He was prepared to skewer whoever was behind it. The lieutenant’s green eyes met his knight’s brown, and he nodded. The knight jerked open the door and as the lieutenant motioned to attack, he was repelled by a wave of rank. The stench passed through his nostrils nearly making him faint as he quickly staggered backwards, raising an armored glove to his face. The knight who had opened the door was already bent over and vomiting with his back turned. What they stumbled upon was an outhouse and behind a dirty flipbook was a lone man.
The flipbook lowered, revealing a pair of blue narrowed eyes. The man’s red brows were pinched in irritation as he gazed upon a group of gawking knights from inside an outhouse that had obscene graffiti carved and inked all over the walls along with a few pinned poems and dirty paintings. He lowered the book further, his lips unzipping to reveal a handsome smile (maybe it would have been if he wasn’t sitting on a toilet). The man was wearing a sanguine-red leather coat with a collar of white puffy fur forming a horseshoe about his neck. Beneath it was a sculpted muscular torso of old scars inflicted by blades. His charcoal-black trousers were at least modestly at his knees with two brown leather belts threaded through their rungs. His pants were long enough to rest upon the toes of a pair of sturdy black boots. He leaned forward, resting his right forearm on his thigh as he arched a brow, “Oi, ye mind? Want t’try knockin’ first? Tha’ shitters in use.”
The lieutenant stared in disbelief. His green eyes showing disgust over the hand he kept clapped against his face. “Mmfph rmmph hmph!”
The man blinked and turned his head, raising his hand to his ear. “Pardon?”
The lieutenant attempted to remove his hand, but as soon as he opened his mouth, just tasting the odor on his tongue made his face flush green as a wave of vomit gushed into his mouth. His cheeks inflated and quickly he scrambled further away to reclaim some fresh air. Resting his hands on his knees, he reluctantly swallowed his vomit back down, and panted, filtering his lungs with clean air. When he managed to compose himself, he straightened and glared at the man with his sword directed at him.
“Where is your captain?” the lieutenant demanded.
The man narrowed his eyes again. “I be ‘im.”
The lieutenant blinked. “You’re Grimjet Clermont; The Butcher; the Pirate King?”
“Aye.”
The entire platoon was stunned.
“Where’s your crew?”
Grimjet rolled his eyes before he shrugged. “Off raidin’ somewhere?”
“Why aren’t you with them?”
“Cuz I’m takin’ a bloody shit! I said ye mind!”
Grimjet reached out to snag the door and slammed it closed, leaving the entire platoon dumbfounded. Captain Siegfried stepped off the side of the airship and dropped to the deck below. His white hair rippled in his graceful descent, his blue cape flagging above him. When he landed, his boots barely made a sound. His hand went to the golden scepter at his hip. The scepter was two feet in length with a round sphere at the end between two unfurled angelic wings. He drew the weapon, swinging it upwards in an arc as the air between him and the outhouse flashed like lightning. The outhouse spontaneously exploded in a blast of fire. Black smoke soon engulfed the flames before the passing winds wafted it away. Standing in the smoke’s place was Grimjet. His body was smoking, clothes singed a darker color by the flames. Behind him, whipping in the wind was a tail of toilet paper that had been trailing from his pants. Grimjet coughed twice, fanning the remnant wisps of smoke from his face before he slipped his hands into his pants pockets and gave the holy knight an ugly and displeased look. His teeth were irritably bared and his bottom lip poked out. He regarded the beautiful man for a few seconds before he tilted his head and muttered, “’Aven’t I seen ye somewhere befo’?”
Grimjet recalled a story about a black swordsman…Whatever. “Oi, ye got yer church, and me crew had that there shitter ye blew away. Twas’ our sacred place too, y’know?”
Siegfried pointed the scepter at the pirate king. “Where’s your crew?”
Grimjet’s lips twisted in amusement. He must have felt like such a big man pointing that arc at him. “I said raidin’.”
“Why aren’t you with them?”
Behind the distracted first platoon and the holy knight were several balloon boats floating up to the airship. Grimjet tipped his head back and sighed. “Ugh, same old questions. I said I was shit—“
Siegfried had swung his scepter and the air combusted again. The knights watched in awe the power their captain demonstrated. The pirate king must have been regretting his decision to stay.
“I won’t ask again,” said Siegfried. “You’re a coward to have stayed behind.”
As the fire and smoke cleared, Grimjet was revealed with no longer a coat. His leather belts crumpled from his waist into char as his bare skin smoked from the swiftly healing burns. He peered over his shoulder, gazing at the tail of toilet paper that seemed to be preserved. It hadn’t even been singed. That was a good steal… he thought to himself, impressed.
“A captain always goes down wit’ ‘is ship,” Grimjet countered with a careless smile.
“Arm yourself, Monster.”
“Name callin’ now are we? I don’t need me knife to ‘andle ye scalawags.”
Grimjet kept his hands within the pockets of his pants and he grinned wickedly at the holy knight. The lieutenant frowned and regarded his captain. “We’ll handle this, Sir.”
Siegfried doubted his men could, but he had another plan up his sleeve. He nodded to his lieutenant and his lieutenant raised his sword and ordered, “Charge!”
First platoon charged the pirate king while Siegfried raised his scepter vertically and scowled in concentration. His arc began to glow. The platoon of fifty men surrounded Grimjet in five rotating rings. Slowly, they started to close in the circle. There were swords all around him, raised and ready to skewer him if he got too close. The pirate king’s blue eyes shifted left and then right. He glanced over each of his shoulders as his smile only broadened. Before the knights could get too close, Grimjet surprised them by charging toward three in the ring. He dropped upon his right side and slid until his booted feet slammed into the knights’ ankles. He slid through all five ranks, clearing a path before he executed a roll and rose to his feet. He whirled around to face his pursuers, and while walking backwards, he leaned back dipping left and then right at the shoulders to dodge sword swipes from a soldier closing in. Grimjet straightened and swung his left foot upwards to catch the soldier’s sword arm at the wrist. His toe met with the joint, causing a loud snap as the soldier’s wrist went limp.
“Argh!” the soldier screamed as Grimjet dropped his foot and leaning his weight upon it, twisted his body to bring his right leg swinging around toward the soldier’s head. His instep caught the side of his face, sending the soldier spinning like a ragdoll into a rank of soldiers. The rank collapsed, bowled over like pins as Grimjet lowered his foot and sprinted away from the pursuing group to gain some distance. While running toward the stern, Grimjet scooped up a coil of ship rope and faced the group. Grinning impishly, with his inhuman strength, he tossed the rope at one of the soldiers, the knot striking him in the face and sending him instantly to the ground. Snapping the rope back, Grimjet whipped it out again. The rope lashed an entire group, crushing them under its weighted length. The rope whipped wildly, crisscrossing as it tossed soldiers about and sent them to the floor. The lieutenant blocked the rope with his sword, baring his teeth as he felt the strength of the strike pass through his hand. It made his hand numb.
Grimjet retracted the rope once more and leapt into the air. He soared over the lieutenant’s head, dropping the heavy rope coil on top of him as he headed for the holy knight captain.
“Captain!”
Siegfried glanced up at the airship to see second platoon’s lieutenant leaning over the rail.
“We’re under attack!” he shouted.
Siegfried’s eyes widened as he thought, What!?
He watched as a pirate clashed swords with his lieutenant. Had the captain’s crew been present all along? But they had checked the whole ship.
“Captain!” the first platoon lieutenant screamed in warning as he wrestled the rope off of his body.
Siegfried’s attention returned to his current situation just as Grimjet landed before him. Face hardening in a scowl, Siegfried directed his charged scepter at the pirate king as Grimjet whipped his right leg around. As Grimjet’s foot connected harshly with the side of the holy knight’s armor, the strike threw off Siegfried’s aim. The air behind Grimjet’s head combusted into an enormous globe of fire that consumed one of the sails and sent the mast collapsing into the captain’s cabin. Siegfried turned, using the strike’s momentum to allow him to keep his footing. As he turned, his chest plate snapped free as two generous forms tumbled against the white cotton material of her tunic. Grimjet had followed the kick through and was spinning around to face Siegfried as she was spinning around to once again aim her scepter at him. The pirate king’s eyes widened in astonishment when he saw the great bust that was turning to face him. His jaw parted to catch the head of the scepter between his teeth and his hands extended to grasp handfuls of the prominent orbs. The two froze. Siegfried’s eyes were shrunk in shock as she took a moment to gauge the situation. She saw her scepter in Grimjet’s mouth and his hands…Her mouth dropped, seeing his hands buried in her chest without shame.
With an enraged cry, Siegfried’s armored fist connected with Grimjet’s face sending him flying backwards. First platoon stood frozen in shock as they watched their captain fall to one knee crossing her arms before her chest protectively. Grimjet had landed on his back, the scepter gripped within a lewd smile. When he sat up, the man had devolved. The surprise that Siegfried had actually been a babe made him lose all intelligence. He became a metaphorical ape that began screeching and galloping around on its knuckles in excitement.
“OOK! OOK! AH AH AAH!” the perverted chimp screamed.
The lieutenant clapped a hand against his forehead. “I knew this was going to happen…” They had been trying to keep their captain’s womanhood a secret from the pirate king, having learned of his disturbing fondness for women. The last thing they had wanted was for their captain to become one of his obsessions.
“He has the scepter!” the captain shouted.
Grimjet stood and directed the scepter at Siegfried with a triumphant smile. “Aye, I do.”
“Captain!” her worried knights shouted.
Grimjet ordered, “Surrender or tha’ buxom bitch dies!”
Siegfried narrowed her eyes. Buxom…
The lieutenant hissed and then reluctantly ordered his men, “Lower your weapons!”
Siegfried growled, “What are you doing? Fight!”
Grimjet smirked over at her. “Tis checkmate girly. I win.”
One of Grimjet’s pirates yelled down, “We got everything handled up here Captain!”
“Good! Bring it all down,” Grimjet returned.
Once all the knights were collected and placed in the brig (except for the holy knight), and his men were back on board the Kojira, Grimjet went over the booty with his steward.
“Gear?” he asked, glancing over at the pile of armor and weapons they had collected off the White guardsmen.
“Check!” replied the steward.
“Loot?”
There was a pile of collected food, water, stolen coin purses and other supplies they had pilfered from the airship and its crew.
“Check!”
“Ransom?”
They both gazed down in the dark brig at the tied up knights.
“Check!”
Grimjet blushed and raised a hand shyly to his lips as he asked, “Girly?”
The steward forced a smile through his sympathy pains as he glanced over at the captured holy knight captain. “Check!”
Grimjet then held up the scepter. “Sea o’ gold?”
The steward grinned greedily, “Check!”
Grimjet threw back his head and laughed victoriously. “As soon as we sell all o’this we’re gonna be up to our necks in gold mates!”
A strand of drool escaped the corner of his mouth as he thought, We’ll ‘ave enough food and grog fo’ a year.
His crew raised their fists into the air and cheered.
Grimjet inspected the scepter and muttered under his breath, “’Ow’d she use this thing again?”
The pirate king then twirled and struck a pose. His right arm was raised and curled with the palm of his right hand against the back of his head. His left hip was cocked out in a feminine manner as he aimed the golden scepter at the air ship like a magical girl. The blimp then detonated with a bang as its fiery remains tumbled from the sky. Siegfried’s face was flushed in anger and humiliation as she thought, I never once used my arc like that!
Grimjet winked at her and raised a hand to his mouth to blow her an air kiss. The holy knight hissed and screamed, “You better pray to the White God that I don’t get free!”
The steward then noticed the tail of toilet paper that had been hanging from the captain’s pants. He grasped the ribbon of 2-ply and tugged it. Pop! A loud growl resounded from Grimjet’s stomach. The cramps that began gripping his bowels like tight fists caused the pirate king to suddenly bend over with his arms crossed over his tummy in pain. The steward stared blankly until his captain’s distressed face appeared over his shoulder, staring at him as though he wanted to kill him.
“Wah!” the steward shrieked.
The noises were growing louder and Grimjet rasped, “What’d ye go touchin’ shite fer? Augh! It’s like a river o’nails tearin’ through me bowels! I wasn’t finished on tha’ shitter! Augh! It’s trynna’ force its bear claws through me arsehole!”
Grimjet’s hand snagged the back of his ass as he clenched his cheeks together with all of his might. Sweating bullets, he shuffled around seeing only a black charred spot where the outhouse used to be.
“Was that our only shitter?!”
The steward quickly flipped through his account papers. Grimjet stared at him impatiently with tiny eyes. After flipping through all the pages, the steward closed his eyes and fearfully gulped.
“Yes…” he squeaked.
“WHAT!?” Grimjet now on his knees and with both hands smashed against his ass (including the scepter) he screamed at his men, “YE BETTER BUILD ANOTHA’ SHITTER! HURRY! HURRY! HURRY! YE FOOLS!”
Pirates started darting all over the place, rounding up wood from the destroyed mast for the new toilet. Siegfried shouted at Grimjet, “GET MY ARC AWAY FROM YOUR DISGUSTING ASS!”
Grimjet’s cheek was smashed against the deck as he continued to suffer, “It’s trynna drill through me hands! Sendin’ its brown whirlin’ spade through my flesh!”
The steward went green and backed away a few steps from him. The pirates finished building the outhouse in record time and exclaimed, “It’s ready, Captain!”
Grimjet immediately rose to his feet and sprinted faster than he ever had toward it. Siegfried yelled, “Don’t take my arc in there!”
The outhouse door slammed closed and Siegfried screamed, “NAAAAAAAOOOOOOOO~!”
The lieutenant frowned as he listened to all the screaming going on above. “What’s going on up there?” His nose then wrinkled as he caught wind of something foul. There was a horrible noise echoing from the pipe above him. He looked up and the smell only grew fouler. It was coming from the pipe. “Ugh, what is that…?” His eyes then grew large. He remembered the outhouse. He had wondered where it all went and now he knew. “Run!”
The other knights stared at him awkwardly. “This isn’t a prison! It’s the septic tank!”
The brig broke out into chaos as knights climbed over knights in the mad scramble to get away from what was about to explode through the pipes. The worst part was that it was going to be a long journey before the Kojira came across another group of holy knights to ransom them off to.
Age: Appears to be in her early 20s
Sin: Envy
Height: 4’9”
Weight: 95lbs
Hair Color: Silver
Eye Color: Vibrant green
Gender: female
Written Appearance:
Shoulder-length silver hair curls into a cloud around her head, softening rather sharp features and contrasting with tanned skin.
Her mouth often curves upward in amusement- usually at someone else's expense. Polycoria (a second pupil in each eye) makes her emerald eyes disconcerting for some.
Of slim and delicate build, she is very much a typical fairy. She usually wears very fashionable, but not necessarily practical clothes.
Brand Appearance:
A serpent constricting around an (anatomical) heart on her chest, right over her own heart.
Personality:
She is strangely mellow and even tempered, even to the point of seeming unconcerned or dismissive. Usually this would seem like an indicator of confidence, however, Devan never actually feels self-confident or ‘good enough’, leading to a couple different things.
She strives to better herself in various ways: learning new things, training, etc. but is often secretive and nearly obsessive about it. The lack of confidence also makes her a bit of a bully: condescending, if not downright cruel, toward those that pique her jealousy-- especially if she feels they didn't earn the advantage. On some level she knows that's not exactly fair, so she puts effort into being professional when she's working and distant if anyone tries to become more friendly.
Background:
”Oh, hunny! You think I'd be here if I knew?”
Current Story:
Devan rather fortuitously landed among the Fairies where she makes a living travelling around the smaller towns and cities with new fashions and tailoring.
Though she can hold her own in a fight and trains occasionally to maintain that ability, she simply isn't built for head-to-head physical confrontation. She prefers her quiet life under the Knights’ radar and away from their influence until she can figure out how to get her memory back.
Weapon:
If she had an Arc, it was lost when the White God banished them. She doesn't exactly recall.
She does carry a pair of push daggers that pass as scissors if they aren't examined too closely.
Ability:
Evil Eye- the target aspect (single trait eg strength or charisma or height etc) withers so long as she focuses- it returns gradually if she is distracted.
Intangibles like charisma can be drained away faster, but if the person realizes, they can resist the effect more or reverse it faster. Physical things like height take more time and energy to affect much change, but it's nearly impossible to resist or reverse before the effect naturally wears off without magic.
Devan thinks she could use her ability on a negative (like illness or depression) to help someone temporarily, but she hasn't tried it...at least not that she can remember.
Sample:
This was written before we had info about the Fairy Isle, so it is not canon.
Tinkling bells gradually added to the din of the marketplace as the pony wearing them pulled a small cart into the plaza. The woman leading it smiled absently at greetings from other vendors here-and-there and scanned the area with vibrant green eyes. It had been a while since Devan had come to the larger city, but she had a few-- certainly not friends, but friendly-- acquaintances.
Finding a good spot, she gave the pony his feed bag and lay her shawl over his back, then tied her silver curls into a pompom on the back of her head. A couple of stones kept the wheels of the cart from rolling as the small woman efficiently started pushing and pulling and turning various pieces of the cart, slowly transforming it into a stand with an awning and dowels to hang her merchandise.
Devan cursed under her breath when the last support for the awning stuck, “...every time …4ű©«¡^9 thing…” With a roar of aggravation disproportionate to her stature she kicked the cart.
And immediately grabbed her toes through the soft slipper-like shoes.
“Wrath is a sin, you know, miss,” a deep voice chuckled from behind her. Devan whirled, diaphanous skirts billowing and fully intending to rip the smartass a new one, but emerald eyes widened when she found herself face-to-- another part of anatomy- with a Holy Knight. If the white armor and being a human- or giant! on the Fairy Isle wasn't enough indication, the man's sword-hilt and pommel were a stylized silver Tree of Life.
Uh oh... She backpedaled into her equine companion and saw the Tree was etched into each pauldron as well. Snatching her shawl from the pony’s back, she hastily wrapped it around herself, hopefully before he could get much of a view of her cleavage-- and more to the point-- the dimly glowing brand nestled there.
The knight must have written her reaction off as simple surprise of him being so close combined with modesty, because he just chuckled again and stepped around the tiny woman to examine the offending support.
He tugged on it. He wiggled it. He leaned to look around at the rest of the cart. He tugged again. He tried putting it back into its ‘closed’ position and pulling it back out, only to get stuck in the same spot again. He growled and smacked it with a gauntleted fist.
“What was that about Wrath, sir?” Devan drawled with the tiniest smirk. She rummaged through a drawer of the cart, taking the chance to surreptitiously use her gift. The secondary pupils in her unusual eyes dilated as she peeked at the knight through a fringe of silver that had escaped from her hair tie. He didn't seem to suspect anything unusual at all, but that quick peek would make him slightly more naive for a little while. She wasn't going to take a chance.
Blinking a few times, her eyes returned to normal and her hands pulled a small tin of oil from the drawer. “This should help.”
The knight laughed; a few strategic drops did wonders and the awning was up in no time. “So how long are you in town, little Wrath?” His wink didn't ease the knot that dropped into her stomach.
What a twisted sense of humour… Surely he doesn't actually suspect, wrong Sin or not... Devan covered her discomfort with her own laugh that tinkled not unlike the pony's bells. “You saw there's no brand on my neck, Sir Knight-- Is that the right one? I'm only here for the day.”
“That it's Sloth; Wrath's is here,” he said, laying his right hand on her left shoulder, “but that Sin is a man, so you're safe. A pity, you're not here long, though; I could use a new cloak. I'll take my leave, then, miss. May the White God watch over you!”
Devan watched until the Holy Knight was out of sight, then folded her cart back down. She kicked the stones from the wheel, took the pony's nearly empty feed bag, and left the market, then the city. It would be quite a while before she returned.
Finding a good spot, she gave the pony his feed bag and lay her shawl over his back, then tied her silver curls into a pompom on the back of her head. A couple of stones kept the wheels of the cart from rolling as the small woman efficiently started pushing and pulling and turning various pieces of the cart, slowly transforming it into a stand with an awning and dowels to hang her merchandise.
Devan cursed under her breath when the last support for the awning stuck, “...every time …4ű©«¡^9 thing…” With a roar of aggravation disproportionate to her stature she kicked the cart.
And immediately grabbed her toes through the soft slipper-like shoes.
“Wrath is a sin, you know, miss,” a deep voice chuckled from behind her. Devan whirled, diaphanous skirts billowing and fully intending to rip the smartass a new one, but emerald eyes widened when she found herself face-to-- another part of anatomy- with a Holy Knight. If the white armor and being a human- or giant! on the Fairy Isle wasn't enough indication, the man's sword-hilt and pommel were a stylized silver Tree of Life.
Uh oh... She backpedaled into her equine companion and saw the Tree was etched into each pauldron as well. Snatching her shawl from the pony’s back, she hastily wrapped it around herself, hopefully before he could get much of a view of her cleavage-- and more to the point-- the dimly glowing brand nestled there.
The knight must have written her reaction off as simple surprise of him being so close combined with modesty, because he just chuckled again and stepped around the tiny woman to examine the offending support.
He tugged on it. He wiggled it. He leaned to look around at the rest of the cart. He tugged again. He tried putting it back into its ‘closed’ position and pulling it back out, only to get stuck in the same spot again. He growled and smacked it with a gauntleted fist.
“What was that about Wrath, sir?” Devan drawled with the tiniest smirk. She rummaged through a drawer of the cart, taking the chance to surreptitiously use her gift. The secondary pupils in her unusual eyes dilated as she peeked at the knight through a fringe of silver that had escaped from her hair tie. He didn't seem to suspect anything unusual at all, but that quick peek would make him slightly more naive for a little while. She wasn't going to take a chance.
Blinking a few times, her eyes returned to normal and her hands pulled a small tin of oil from the drawer. “This should help.”
The knight laughed; a few strategic drops did wonders and the awning was up in no time. “So how long are you in town, little Wrath?” His wink didn't ease the knot that dropped into her stomach.
What a twisted sense of humour… Surely he doesn't actually suspect, wrong Sin or not... Devan covered her discomfort with her own laugh that tinkled not unlike the pony's bells. “You saw there's no brand on my neck, Sir Knight-- Is that the right one? I'm only here for the day.”
“That it's Sloth; Wrath's is here,” he said, laying his right hand on her left shoulder, “but that Sin is a man, so you're safe. A pity, you're not here long, though; I could use a new cloak. I'll take my leave, then, miss. May the White God watch over you!”
Devan watched until the Holy Knight was out of sight, then folded her cart back down. She kicked the stones from the wheel, took the pony's nearly empty feed bag, and left the market, then the city. It would be quite a while before she returned.
Changes approved by Holy Soldier.
NobodiesHero The Organization XIII Member That Never Was
Member
Seen
7 yrs ago
Name: Allerion Zephra (Goes by Rion in less formal situations)
Age: 27
Allegiance: Church of the White
Position: Holy Knight
Height: 5' 9"
Weight: 146lbs
Hair Color: Brown
Eye Color: Light blue
Gender: Male
Written Appearance: Rion has shortish, messy brown hair which ignores his every attempt at keeping it neat. His eyes are a light, icy, blue in color. He is slightly above average height and has a build made up entirely of lean muscle. Nearly his entire left arm and part of his left side is covered in burn scarring. On the left side of his chest, covering his heart and partially ruined on the edges by burn scarring, is a tattoo of a pink rose. Rion dresses in simple dark cloth covered by silver armor. Rion wears a wedding band on his left ring finger, which he is never seen without. The band is simple, made from gold with no precious stones to be seen. Etched onto the outside of the band are two names Allerion and Mana. The twin to this one, identical in every way but size, he wears on a silver chain around his neck.
Personality: Protective by nature and loyal to a fault. Rion is stubbornly set in his ways but open minded enough to understand that not everyone sees the world in the same way he does. Full of passion and care. Despite a serious persona he tries to wear Rion truly wears his heart on his sleeve. Lately he's been moody and depressed, snapping at people one moment, then feeling terrible and apologizing the next.
Background: The story of how Rion became a Holy Knight isn't the interesting part. He was a simple boy, from a simple family who wanted to be more than that. He found purpose and a sense of accomplishment. It's a story that has been told many times before by many other people. The interesting part of the story comes in the form of Mana.
Rion was 19 years old when he saved a beautiful young woman from a man who's intentions for her were not pure. This 18 year old woman introduced herself as Mana Amythia. She was the daughter of a local baker and as thanks for rescuing her, invited him back to her parent's bakery for a reward in the form of cake. Rion accepted. They ended up talking for hours about everything and nothing all at the same time. Rion had never found himself more relaxed than in the presence of Mana.
Every chance he got, Rion returned to the bakery just so he could spend more time with her. They didn't start formally dating for nearly a year after their first meeting. Their courtship lasted about two years. During that time, Mana moved into Rion's home. Her parents approved very much of their relationship and practically forced the two of them closer together every chance their could. When Mana started spending more and more time at Rion's home, they were the ones that convinced her to just start living there.
It was near the end of the two years that Rion was seriously injured while pulling another Holy Knight out of a fire. The first face he saw when he woke up was Mana's. He asked her to marry him right then and there. She said yes. While he recovered, she had their wedding bands made. Though it would be some time before Rion could actually wear his.
For a time, they were happy together. Rion was happier than he ever had been in his entire life. When he wasn't working, he spent every moment he could with Mana. When he was working, Mana hung out with the wives of other Holy Knights, or in her parent's bakery. That's when she started hearing rumors about the not so holy things that the Holy Knights were doing.
She started sharing these rumors with Rion, who began to doubt the people he worked for. It got to the point where he started investigating these rumors on his own, and even considered leaving the Holy Knights. It was then that he was sent on another mission. When he returned two weeks later, he was told that Mana had suddenly become very ill, and the illness had killed her and their unborn child. Rion had never cried in front of his fellow knights until that very moment.
But the situation surrounding her death started making less and less sense. Mana's parents told Rion that she hadn't told them anything about being sick and that they hadn't even been allowed to see the body before it had been taken for burial. This only caused Rion's doubts to become stronger. Had Mana really died from some illness, or had she been silenced? Rion's mental state became rather unstable, people simply thought it to be grief, and while that was part of it there was far more to it than that.
Current Story: It's been about a month since Mana's death. After snapping at a superior, Rion was put on a leave of absence in order to clear his head. Rion has decided to take this chance to wander the kingdom a little bit. Both in order to get his thoughts in order, but also to see first hand if these rumors he's hearing about the Holy Knights are true. In his current state, he's not sure who to trust anymore, he isn't even sure if the Seven Deadly Sins were truly evil or if that was a ruse created by the Holy Knights too.
Weapon: Rion's Arc is a whip chain made from white metal with blue patterns dancing throughout. The magic inside the chain can allow it to shrink and grow at will, allowing it be anywhere from three feet long, to about fifteen.
Ability: Wind Walk. Rion can make his body and anything touching him as light as air. If he times it just as he throws his body forward, it can allow him to move so quickly that it looks as if he's teleporting. Or if he jumps into the air, it can give him the illusion of flight. The moment he stops touching something, it will become it's normal weight again. If he's using on other people, he can only do it on one other person at a time.
Meeting Mana
There was a loud crack and a groan as Holy Knight Allerion rotated his right shoulder once again. His left hand reached up to rub the aching muscles through his armor. "That's what I get for accepting a sparring invitation from a Great." Allerion muttered to himself.
The last week had been rather quiet, peaceful even, which meant the Holy Knights had become increasingly restless. Sparring matches ending in injury on either side weren't uncommon. During times like this, it was considered an honor to have a Great Holy Knight ask you to spar them. Because it meant they wanted a punching bag, and you could take a hit. While Allerion had enjoyed the match, and even gotten praised for the use of magic ability, there was now not a single part of him that wasn't sore.
The sky was orange, as the sun was beginning to set, and Allerion was on his way home for the night. He was taking a slightly different path than he usually did. Normally he took the long route, enjoying a nice walk in the cool evening air. Today, he just wanted to get home and take a nice warm bath to ease these aches. As Allerion was about to round a corner, he stopped, the sounds of what might have been a scuffle reaching his ears.
"I said no!" A female voice shouted out.
"Aw, come on girly. Someone like you should be thrilled to have someone like me. I work directly under the Holy Knights, that's about as good as you can get." Another voice, this time male, said.
Oh, that isn't a scuffle. Worked for the Holy Knights did he? Well, not for much longer. Allerion put on his best, I'm a Holy Knight don't fuck with me, face and rounded the corner. Just in time to see the man, clearly a soldier, raise his fist to hit the girl, who was backed into a wall. Without thinking, Allerion used his right foot to push off the ground, activating Wind Walk at just the right time to send him forward at blinding fast speeds. His momentum caused him to end up exactly where he wanted to be, right next to the soldier. One gloved hand snapped out, grabbing the soldier's hand in a rough grip. "What's going on here?" He said in an icy voice.
The soldier, who was visibly intoxicated, went pale. "S-sir, I-"
"I wasn't talking to you." Allerion interrupted, eyes shifted to the girl.
The girl looked scared, but less so that moments before. "He was trying to- I said no."
"Well? She said no and for good reason. Get out of here, and start looking for a new job."
For a brief moment, the man looked as if he was about to put up a fight. But even in his drunken state he knew not to mess with a Holy Knight. One last look at the girl, and he was fleeing. Allerion's expression immediately softened. "Are you al-"
Allerion was cut off as what felt like a blunt force weapon slammed into his probably bruised torso. It was, of course, the girl, who had just wrapped her arms around him. The Holy Knight's brain stopped working, as he was not used to this kind of attention. He awkwardly reached up to pat her shoulder. Just as he was about to begin functioning again, she pulled away and looked up at him. For the first time, Allerion got a really good look at the girl he had just saved and he decided she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen before.
Her hair was long, dark, and perfectly styled, unlike his own fluffy mess. Her eyes were deep purple in the fading light, but he was sure they sparkled in the sun. Her skin was perfect porcelain, untouched by the harsh life of a warrior. And the glasses, well they just added to everything. In that moment, Allerion went from well disciplined Holy Knight, to drooling teenage boy. "Thank you for saving me." The girl said, breaking Allerion from his trance.
"Think nothing of it. May I escort you home? That man was rather intoxicated, I'm worried he may come back."
The girl nodded, "Please do, sir Holy Knight!"
Allerion did just that. It was on the way to her home that the two of them began to chat, simply in order to fill what may have been an awkward silence. He learned that her name was Mana and he in turn gave his own name. By the time they made it to her home, Allerion no longer felt awkward around it. It was as if they were old friends.
"A bakery?"
Mana nodded, "We live on the second level. My parents run the place and I help out by making deliveries."
Mana opened the door and the two stepped inside, greeted by the warm interior and the smell of sweets. At the sound of the bell above the door, an older man with a face dusted by flour poked his head out from the back room. "Welcome back, Mana! Who's this?"
"This is Sir Allerion, he saved me!"
The older man looked confused. "Saved you?"
Allerion stepped in to explain. "Your daughter ran into a little trouble on her way home, I thought it best to escort her back and make sure it didn't happen again."
The older man clapped his hands together and his eyes immediately brightened. Allerion realized where Mana got all her energy from. "Well then you must stay and have something, on the house. It's the least I can do."
It was with those words that Mana and Allerion's lives were changed forever.
Robin Branwen
Appears to be in her late 20's
Greed
5'9
178 lbs.
White
Blue
Female
Robin has a petite frame, with short strangely white hair that reaches her shoulders, and pale plue eyes. She usually wears dark colored clothing, more preferably an outfit reminicent of a maid's uniform, with accents of jewelry she had stolen from others. She also has scars all over her arms and upper torso.
Robin's brand is of a fox circling a small treasure chest, representing her thieving nature. It's located on her right shoulder.
A kleptomaniac, Robin is posessive, and always gets a kick out of stealing from the rich. She likes to mess with others, either with sarcastic remarks, or just taking their stuff in general. Even if she's a concidered criminal, she's like an older sister to those who are close to Robin, but she'd never share any of her loot. Never.
"Honestly, I can't remember my past..."
After being banished by The White God, Robin had woken up in a small village, only remembering the times she had raided and stolen from the upper classmen and women as a child. So settling down at a nearby mercenary camp, she trained herself to be an expert thief and asassin.
Yet word went around about a kingdom under the rule of The Holy Knights, who overthrew the original royal family. Robin saw that as an opportunity to strike gold, so she packed up her things, and went her way.
Magnolia - A pure silver rapier with a golden handle, a Magnolia shaped citrine carved into the sword.
Phantom Shift: For as long as she can focus, Robin can turn herself specteral. Either to sneak past and distract others, go inside inaccessible rooms, or converse with other ghosts. Yet if she stays a ghost for too long, Robin's real body will vanish.
She can only stay in this form for 20 minutes/5 turns, before having to revert. If she's startled or distraced, Robin instantly turns back to normal.
There was once a story that some were told as a child. About an archer and swordsman, who stole from the rich to give to the poor. Yet some couldn't help but wonder, what if someone like this thief existed? There was a young woman that would have once fit the description, if not for who she is now.
Late at night, Robin was following her latest target, with the hood of a dark blue cloak hiding her face. A duke, who had bought a rose gold necklace for his wife, possibly as an anniversary gift. The piece of jewlery was accented with sapphires and amethysts, with a pure red ruby in the center. The thief's eyes seemed to gleam with greed at the sight of the treasure, but she stayed out of sight, in hopes of finding the right time to strike.
Yet the duke had entered a nearby pub. A strange place for an upperclass man to be for Robin, but the necklace was more important. So looking around to see if she was being followed, the thief continued to follow inside. Everything seemed normal, from the arguing drunks nearing a bar fight, to the one's gambling their riches away in simple casino games, and at the far right was the main bar, where the duke was sitting at with a half empty glass of beer.
He seemed to be having a conversation with the bartender, so Robin sat down at an empty table, near the bar, and listened in to the chat.
"Oi' Fredrick. You've been 'ere alot for a month now, care to elaborate?" The bartender asked.
"Ah, It's nothing. I'm just constantly worrying that my wife will figure out I've been with the maid behind her back..." Fredrick answered, taking a swig of his beer.
"An affair? This should be quite interesting." Robin said to herself, before turning back to listen more.
"It's supposed to be our wedding aniversary today, yet I can't be bothered to even look her in the eyes again without feeling guilty!" Fredrick rested his head in his then crossed arms, banging the surface of the bar with his fist.
The bartender sighed, and put down the glass they were cleaning. "Look here, Fred, secrets don't stay hidden forever, I had to learn that the hard way. You have to tell the truth at some point, less ya' want to have a burden on your conscious for the rest of your life."
"So what are you saying...?" The duke looked up at the bartender.
"I'm sayin', it's best to confess now, got it?"
Fredrick seemed to perk up, as he quickly got up from his seat, and walked out of the pub.
"The duke's seeing a servant behind the duchess back..." Robin repeated, before giggling to herself.
"How quaint~. I wonder what would happen if I were to cut in~..."
The plan was set.
Robin was to sneak behind the duke, and knock him out, possibly with some poison or venom. Then she would drag him to an alleyway close to his home, and make it to where he had a date with their maid. All making sure to take the necklace.
The thief continued to stalk Fredrick. Slowly pulling out a syringe until...
"Wait, what are you--Mrph?!"
She pulled him out of sight and injected the duke with it. Rendering him unconsious.
"Pity. If the riches of men weren't the only thing I care about, I'd help you with your troubles..."
"Oh well~!"
Robin grabbed the necklace from Fredrick's pockets, and rested the duke by the wall. She losened his clothes a bit and messed up his hair to the point of where he looked like he just woke up,but that wasn't enough. So the thief decided to punch Fredrick a few times around and in the neck till he bruised, to give the illusion of love bites.
"There we go. Sorry again bud, but you sorta deserve it." She said, before walking away.
Meanwhile, the wife of Fredrick had gone out to look for him, only to take his appearance the wrong way.
"Fred?! Fredrick, where are you?!" The duchess called out, a groan of pain as the only reply. She quickly followed the voice of her husband to the alley he was dragged to.
"Ugh...Maria...?"
"Oh Fredrick, what happ-" Maria asked, before noticing the brusing.
"W-what's with the..?" The duchess pointed to one of the bruises, which took a few second for the duke to notice. She backed up, and turned away from her husband.
"No...nononono, Maria, it's not what it looks like!"
"I can't believe you would do this to me! And on the day we got married!!" She yelled at Fredrick, tears welling up in her eyes.
"Maria please! I'd never cheat on you! I was just-"
"Just what?!"
"Look, I had gotten you a gift, a beautiful necklace that made me think of you, a-a-and I made a stop at the pub for a quick drink!" Then it dawned on him.
"Wait, let me get it out for you-"
He felt around his pockets, yet the gift wasn't there.
"U-uh...ahahah, minor setback..."
Robin couldn't contain her laughter, as she watched from afar her victim's marriage fall apart. It reminded her of one the poor drama novels she once read.
"Ah, poor sod. He should've took heed what the bartender told him." She said, twirling the stolen necklace with her index finger as she walked away from the scene.
"But it was worth it. Yet I wonder how much this thing's worth..."
Late at night, Robin was following her latest target, with the hood of a dark blue cloak hiding her face. A duke, who had bought a rose gold necklace for his wife, possibly as an anniversary gift. The piece of jewlery was accented with sapphires and amethysts, with a pure red ruby in the center. The thief's eyes seemed to gleam with greed at the sight of the treasure, but she stayed out of sight, in hopes of finding the right time to strike.
Yet the duke had entered a nearby pub. A strange place for an upperclass man to be for Robin, but the necklace was more important. So looking around to see if she was being followed, the thief continued to follow inside. Everything seemed normal, from the arguing drunks nearing a bar fight, to the one's gambling their riches away in simple casino games, and at the far right was the main bar, where the duke was sitting at with a half empty glass of beer.
He seemed to be having a conversation with the bartender, so Robin sat down at an empty table, near the bar, and listened in to the chat.
"Oi' Fredrick. You've been 'ere alot for a month now, care to elaborate?" The bartender asked.
"Ah, It's nothing. I'm just constantly worrying that my wife will figure out I've been with the maid behind her back..." Fredrick answered, taking a swig of his beer.
"An affair? This should be quite interesting." Robin said to herself, before turning back to listen more.
"It's supposed to be our wedding aniversary today, yet I can't be bothered to even look her in the eyes again without feeling guilty!" Fredrick rested his head in his then crossed arms, banging the surface of the bar with his fist.
The bartender sighed, and put down the glass they were cleaning. "Look here, Fred, secrets don't stay hidden forever, I had to learn that the hard way. You have to tell the truth at some point, less ya' want to have a burden on your conscious for the rest of your life."
"So what are you saying...?" The duke looked up at the bartender.
"I'm sayin', it's best to confess now, got it?"
Fredrick seemed to perk up, as he quickly got up from his seat, and walked out of the pub.
"The duke's seeing a servant behind the duchess back..." Robin repeated, before giggling to herself.
"How quaint~. I wonder what would happen if I were to cut in~..."
The plan was set.
Robin was to sneak behind the duke, and knock him out, possibly with some poison or venom. Then she would drag him to an alleyway close to his home, and make it to where he had a date with their maid. All making sure to take the necklace.
The thief continued to stalk Fredrick. Slowly pulling out a syringe until...
"Wait, what are you--Mrph?!"
She pulled him out of sight and injected the duke with it. Rendering him unconsious.
"Pity. If the riches of men weren't the only thing I care about, I'd help you with your troubles..."
"Oh well~!"
Robin grabbed the necklace from Fredrick's pockets, and rested the duke by the wall. She losened his clothes a bit and messed up his hair to the point of where he looked like he just woke up,but that wasn't enough. So the thief decided to punch Fredrick a few times around and in the neck till he bruised, to give the illusion of love bites.
"There we go. Sorry again bud, but you sorta deserve it." She said, before walking away.
Meanwhile, the wife of Fredrick had gone out to look for him, only to take his appearance the wrong way.
"Fred?! Fredrick, where are you?!" The duchess called out, a groan of pain as the only reply. She quickly followed the voice of her husband to the alley he was dragged to.
"Ugh...Maria...?"
"Oh Fredrick, what happ-" Maria asked, before noticing the brusing.
"W-what's with the..?" The duchess pointed to one of the bruises, which took a few second for the duke to notice. She backed up, and turned away from her husband.
"No...nononono, Maria, it's not what it looks like!"
"I can't believe you would do this to me! And on the day we got married!!" She yelled at Fredrick, tears welling up in her eyes.
"Maria please! I'd never cheat on you! I was just-"
"Just what?!"
"Look, I had gotten you a gift, a beautiful necklace that made me think of you, a-a-and I made a stop at the pub for a quick drink!" Then it dawned on him.
"Wait, let me get it out for you-"
He felt around his pockets, yet the gift wasn't there.
"U-uh...ahahah, minor setback..."
Robin couldn't contain her laughter, as she watched from afar her victim's marriage fall apart. It reminded her of one the poor drama novels she once read.
"Ah, poor sod. He should've took heed what the bartender told him." She said, twirling the stolen necklace with her index finger as she walked away from the scene.
"But it was worth it. Yet I wonder how much this thing's worth..."
Tenma Tendo Thunder Pillar in Training
Member
Seen
1 yr ago
[ ❇ ] O N T H E O U T S I D E
Name: Mikazuki Taiyou (Mika, Magus Seeker, Magus Hunter)
Age: Appears to be 16 at the oldest.
Sin: Pride
Height: 4' 8"
Weight: 79 lbs
Hair Color: Light Burgundy
Eye Color: Solid, Soulless Black
Gender: Identifies as Male
Written Appearance: Mika is a small fairy with light burgundy hair, soulless black eyes, and pale skin that's often riddled with bruises, scars, and several scratches. Bandages cover most of his body, but in particular: his arms (up to his forearms), his neck, and his eyes/forehead. Often wrapped around his legs and wrists is his weapon, the Chains of Andromeda.
Brand Appearance: Mika's brand is a dolphin that resembled the shape of a horizontal crescent moon. It's located on at the center of his forehead.
Age: Appears to be 16 at the oldest.
Sin: Pride
Height: 4' 8"
Weight: 79 lbs
Hair Color: Light Burgundy
Eye Color: Solid, Soulless Black
Gender: Identifies as Male
Written Appearance: Mika is a small fairy with light burgundy hair, soulless black eyes, and pale skin that's often riddled with bruises, scars, and several scratches. Bandages cover most of his body, but in particular: his arms (up to his forearms), his neck, and his eyes/forehead. Often wrapped around his legs and wrists is his weapon, the Chains of Andromeda.
Brand Appearance: Mika's brand is a dolphin that resembled the shape of a horizontal crescent moon. It's located on at the center of his forehead.
[ ❇ ] D I G G I N G A L I T T L E D E E P E R
Personality: Mika is one of those people who have a 'switch'. He's generally a nice and friendly person, so long as you don't comment on his appearance, but some of smallest of things can make him completely freak out (anxiety, panic attacks, tantrum, anger, etc.). He likes to help others and make them feel better about themselves rather than beat them down like his sin may suggest. However, push him too hard, and he's known for getting easily annoyed and have rather sadistic and masochistic tendencies. He'll definitely need someone that can endure his freak outs while also giving him a pat on the back for powering through them; maybe one of the Sins fill this role? He hates walking of any kind and will hover in the air any chance he gets, mostly because he wants to appear taller to those around him.
Background: To Be Announced
Current Story: After his banishment, Mika first took to the skies, hoping that from up above, no one would be able to hurt him, and he wouldn't have to see the blinding colors of multiple people/Aura's in one place. He fled to any rural area that would accept him, but unfortunately, with his odd appearance and this being before he covered his eyes and forehead with bandages, he was shunned and forced away. Realizing that he would never make like this, Mika enlisted as a mercenary, as he noticed his unbelievable magical powers. And to this day, Mikazuki has been doing such, mostly being known in the underground for his ability to take down powerful Magus (mages).
Background: To Be Announced
Current Story: After his banishment, Mika first took to the skies, hoping that from up above, no one would be able to hurt him, and he wouldn't have to see the blinding colors of multiple people/Aura's in one place. He fled to any rural area that would accept him, but unfortunately, with his odd appearance and this being before he covered his eyes and forehead with bandages, he was shunned and forced away. Realizing that he would never make like this, Mika enlisted as a mercenary, as he noticed his unbelievable magical powers. And to this day, Mikazuki has been doing such, mostly being known in the underground for his ability to take down powerful Magus (mages).
[ ❇ ] H O W D O E S H E H O L D U P ?
Weapon: Mika's weapons is the Chains of Andromeda. As the name might suggest, the Chains of Andromeda are a set of four unbreakable golden chains that can reach lengths of about 120 yards. By forcing magic through the links, Mika is about to manipulate them independently of him actually touching them. Great for grabbing and restraining, as well as piercing if necessary.
Ability: Mika has the ability known as Mind's Eye. As a result of Mika's unnatural eyes, he was given the power of perception beyond ordinary sight. With this ability he can see the auras of other people as well as inanimate objects if they've been tampered with and determine emotions, health, power levels, or moral alignment by the color and intensity of the aura that surround them or it. And while this power is extremely useful, it had a big drawback, hat being that Mika can't actually see. He can see the outlines, shapes, and colors that the aura surrounding those make, but other than that, he sees complete darkness. Those who know how to conceal their aura can easily attack Mika without him knowing that they were even there.
Ability: Mika has the ability known as Mind's Eye. As a result of Mika's unnatural eyes, he was given the power of perception beyond ordinary sight. With this ability he can see the auras of other people as well as inanimate objects if they've been tampered with and determine emotions, health, power levels, or moral alignment by the color and intensity of the aura that surround them or it. And while this power is extremely useful, it had a big drawback, hat being that Mika can't actually see. He can see the outlines, shapes, and colors that the aura surrounding those make, but other than that, he sees complete darkness. Those who know how to conceal their aura can easily attack Mika without him knowing that they were even there.
If it had been his first time there, he probably would have let it slide. Had it been their second or more time there, he probably would have just let it go. Unfortunately for the later, neither was the case...
The semi-blind fairy would have never thought that he would be actively going to a pub of all places; not to mention it was practically in the middle of "nowhere town", being what Mika likes to call it. At the pub, everyone was generally nice to Mika, giving him treats when he came in, a few lines of fluffy banter and even woops and hollers of his name. But there were always a few newcomers that irked the boy off more than he could properly express.
After completing one of his deliveries and finally getting the smell of blood out of his ragged clothing, Mikazuki sprinted off in the direction of said pub, much like he always did after 'deliveries'. Of course he would have much preferred to fly, but alerting everyone that he was a fairy would probably make him a little suspicious, especially since he didn't have the iconic trait of wings that went with the species.
Through dirty bandages, Mika effortlessly maneuvered down and across several streets and walkways, his mind so use to taking the familiar way almost every single day that his body moved on instinct. He had soon come to a stop in front of a circular building with cream colored walls, a dark brown roof, and a warm orange light emanating from the windows at the very outskirts of said town. Approaching the small building, Mika placed a tentative hand forward before his bandaged fingers brushed upon what felt like wood. A small grin crept up on the fairy boy's face as he pushed the door open and padded inside...
...Only to be greeted with a wave of cheers that would have made him jump if he hadn't already seen their auras through the pub walls. However, he still did provide a small jump of surprise out of courtesy before smiling gleefully at everyone who greeted him at once.
"Do you guys always have to do that when I come in?" The boy questioned before feeling a large hand on his head, ruffling around the light burgundy locks to a more messier state than previous. He didn't necessarily have to turn around to see who's hand it belonged to, as he was greeted with the gesture every time.
That hand belonged to Jonathan, a muscular, towering man with a strong sense of justice, but a gentle loving soul. His Aura was always blazing a deep red to show off his strong will and grounded nature.
"Bwahahaha! Aw, don't be like that kiddo!" His voice always made Mika's ears ring. "We just love having you around! Let us baby you around a little!" The taller man grinned as he removed his hand, Mika immediately trying to fix what he couldn't exactly see. Right, to them, he was just a kid who swung by for some food and became a regular in the process. He had to keep it that way too.
"Yeah, yeah, I get it. But can you baby me after I get some food?" Mika retorted, only receiving a smirk in return and a pat on the back that pushed him forward a bit.
Giving a few more waves and greetings to those that called out to him, Mika was suddenly stopped by one of the waitresses, who moved to his side and locked arms with him. At first he was a bit confused by the action, until his eyes landed on the Aura next to her, causing him to break out in a wide smile.
"Prim!" Mika shouted excitedly as he bounced up and down at her arrival.
Primrose was the daughter of Jonathan and the head waitress of the pub. Her personality was like liquid gold and it was almost impossible to hate her. Her Aura was normally yellow when Mika saw her. She was also the only one that took into account his 'blindness' and helped him around the pub when he needed it.
"What's up little dude? Hope my old man isn't annoying you or anything. Come on, let's get you to the bar seats, Chise already has some food waiting for you!" She spoke with twice the energy that Mika was expressing, said boy nodding eagerly as he let himself get guiding to the bar seat, plopping himself down on one of them, right next to two burly men with quiet black Auras. He could already see that it would a problem sitting next to these people, especially since they seemed new to the pub, but asking Prim if he could move elsewhere seemed rude and asking Jonathan for help would make it plainly obvious; not to mention Jonathan was probably drunk with the way his Aura swirled and spun. He had to get them out of there now before they started causing problems; is this why Prim put him next to them? But before he had a chance to think up any plan to get them to move or leave, the woman of the pub herself stood in front of him on the other side of the long table.
Now this was definitely Chise, the owner of the pub and the one who cooked most if not all of the meals. She a stout woman, but not as short as him, and was very round. Her Aura tended to be on the bright metallic silver spectrum, being the Aura of new ideas.
" Mika! Darling, I reckon you want the regular? No spoon?" She questioned with a mischievous smile. Although Mika couldn't see it, he got the message loud and clear and nodded quickly.
"You know me so well, Chise." He smiled as he swung his legs idly.
He waited a few seconds until he heard a soft clink from right in front of him, letting him know that his plate of spicy curry had arrived in all its glory. Mika could feel the heat coming off of it, but it was a short lived moment as one of the two men let out a low growl.
"Really woman? The kid could wait, we've been here for hours without any food!" One of them barked at her, only for her to let out a low chuckle.
"Sorry boys, regulars are given first priority." Chise cooed at them before disappearing into the kitchen. Mika couldn't help but adore the other's spunk as he began digging into the curry, using his hands instead of a utensil to eat; for him it was just more comfortable than holding onto an item he couldn't physically see. He made sure to make as much of a mess as curry was flying in almost every direction with the way he ate. It kinda reminded him of someone, but he could put his finger on it, nor was he given anymore time to think on it as the man sitting next to him stood up and grabbed him by his already ripped up shirt.
"Are you trying to piss me off, runt?" Was the first thing he said before turning to look at the other man who also got up. "This rat thinks he can get food on me and get away with it?!" He barked as he turned back to Mika who was still eating, ignoring him. This seemed to anger the two men enough as the one that had Mika in his grip began dragging him towards the door, knocking over his high seat with a resounding thud. Despite this, everyone in the pub remained their lively cheerful selves, as if the two men pulling the poor boy out of the pub wasn't happening.
Mika, on the other hand, loosened up like a rag doll, his entire body limp. Even though he knew he was going to be fine and that he could take these guys out...why did it still scare him? Was it because he was small? Was it because he was a Sin with barely any memories? Was it...because they looked down at him for being a kid? Mika's breathing slowly picked up as he let his mind feed him these insults and provocations. He knew he did't need to 'freak out' to get rid of these two men, but his body nor his mind were listening to him. There was no one to calm him down either.
Before he even knew it, he was thrown to the ground outside and behind the pub.
"So twerp, you think you can get away with dirtying my clothes?" Mika was wheezing at this point. Even if he wanted to answer, he couldn't as a large boot collided with his face, causing him to slide across the ground, accumulating more dirt on his body. With his nose now bleeding, Mika murmured a few words under his breath. However the man who delivered the kick and dragging him out of the pub seemed to pick up on what he said. "What was that? You got something to say, punk?!" The growled as he went for another kick, only to stopped by what looked like chains that appeared almost out of nowhere. The chains quickly began to wrap around the man as the fairy boy slowly got. With his switch completely flipped, he began to speak.
"First, you worms decided to show your ugly faces at the same pub that I go to."
The chains wrapped around the man's left leg constricted, a resounding crack reverberated around the area as the man simultaneously screamed in pain.
"Second, I grace your horrible presence and you don't even talk to me."
The right leg. Crack. Scream.
"Third, your filthy mouths addressing Chise like she belongs to you."
The left arm. Crack. Scream.
"Fourth, your poor hands decided they had the right to touch my clothes."
The right arm. Crack. Scream.
"And lastly...the way you pieces of shit looked down on me...unforgivable!"
The neck. Crack. Silence.
"Now, I'll give you ten seconds to get out of my sight, you mongrels."
~
The semi-blind fairy would have never thought that he would be actively going to a pub of all places; not to mention it was practically in the middle of "nowhere town", being what Mika likes to call it. At the pub, everyone was generally nice to Mika, giving him treats when he came in, a few lines of fluffy banter and even woops and hollers of his name. But there were always a few newcomers that irked the boy off more than he could properly express.
After completing one of his deliveries and finally getting the smell of blood out of his ragged clothing, Mikazuki sprinted off in the direction of said pub, much like he always did after 'deliveries'. Of course he would have much preferred to fly, but alerting everyone that he was a fairy would probably make him a little suspicious, especially since he didn't have the iconic trait of wings that went with the species.
Through dirty bandages, Mika effortlessly maneuvered down and across several streets and walkways, his mind so use to taking the familiar way almost every single day that his body moved on instinct. He had soon come to a stop in front of a circular building with cream colored walls, a dark brown roof, and a warm orange light emanating from the windows at the very outskirts of said town. Approaching the small building, Mika placed a tentative hand forward before his bandaged fingers brushed upon what felt like wood. A small grin crept up on the fairy boy's face as he pushed the door open and padded inside...
...Only to be greeted with a wave of cheers that would have made him jump if he hadn't already seen their auras through the pub walls. However, he still did provide a small jump of surprise out of courtesy before smiling gleefully at everyone who greeted him at once.
"Do you guys always have to do that when I come in?" The boy questioned before feeling a large hand on his head, ruffling around the light burgundy locks to a more messier state than previous. He didn't necessarily have to turn around to see who's hand it belonged to, as he was greeted with the gesture every time.
That hand belonged to Jonathan, a muscular, towering man with a strong sense of justice, but a gentle loving soul. His Aura was always blazing a deep red to show off his strong will and grounded nature.
"Bwahahaha! Aw, don't be like that kiddo!" His voice always made Mika's ears ring. "We just love having you around! Let us baby you around a little!" The taller man grinned as he removed his hand, Mika immediately trying to fix what he couldn't exactly see. Right, to them, he was just a kid who swung by for some food and became a regular in the process. He had to keep it that way too.
"Yeah, yeah, I get it. But can you baby me after I get some food?" Mika retorted, only receiving a smirk in return and a pat on the back that pushed him forward a bit.
Giving a few more waves and greetings to those that called out to him, Mika was suddenly stopped by one of the waitresses, who moved to his side and locked arms with him. At first he was a bit confused by the action, until his eyes landed on the Aura next to her, causing him to break out in a wide smile.
"Prim!" Mika shouted excitedly as he bounced up and down at her arrival.
Primrose was the daughter of Jonathan and the head waitress of the pub. Her personality was like liquid gold and it was almost impossible to hate her. Her Aura was normally yellow when Mika saw her. She was also the only one that took into account his 'blindness' and helped him around the pub when he needed it.
"What's up little dude? Hope my old man isn't annoying you or anything. Come on, let's get you to the bar seats, Chise already has some food waiting for you!" She spoke with twice the energy that Mika was expressing, said boy nodding eagerly as he let himself get guiding to the bar seat, plopping himself down on one of them, right next to two burly men with quiet black Auras. He could already see that it would a problem sitting next to these people, especially since they seemed new to the pub, but asking Prim if he could move elsewhere seemed rude and asking Jonathan for help would make it plainly obvious; not to mention Jonathan was probably drunk with the way his Aura swirled and spun. He had to get them out of there now before they started causing problems; is this why Prim put him next to them? But before he had a chance to think up any plan to get them to move or leave, the woman of the pub herself stood in front of him on the other side of the long table.
Now this was definitely Chise, the owner of the pub and the one who cooked most if not all of the meals. She a stout woman, but not as short as him, and was very round. Her Aura tended to be on the bright metallic silver spectrum, being the Aura of new ideas.
" Mika! Darling, I reckon you want the regular? No spoon?" She questioned with a mischievous smile. Although Mika couldn't see it, he got the message loud and clear and nodded quickly.
"You know me so well, Chise." He smiled as he swung his legs idly.
He waited a few seconds until he heard a soft clink from right in front of him, letting him know that his plate of spicy curry had arrived in all its glory. Mika could feel the heat coming off of it, but it was a short lived moment as one of the two men let out a low growl.
"Really woman? The kid could wait, we've been here for hours without any food!" One of them barked at her, only for her to let out a low chuckle.
"Sorry boys, regulars are given first priority." Chise cooed at them before disappearing into the kitchen. Mika couldn't help but adore the other's spunk as he began digging into the curry, using his hands instead of a utensil to eat; for him it was just more comfortable than holding onto an item he couldn't physically see. He made sure to make as much of a mess as curry was flying in almost every direction with the way he ate. It kinda reminded him of someone, but he could put his finger on it, nor was he given anymore time to think on it as the man sitting next to him stood up and grabbed him by his already ripped up shirt.
"Are you trying to piss me off, runt?" Was the first thing he said before turning to look at the other man who also got up. "This rat thinks he can get food on me and get away with it?!" He barked as he turned back to Mika who was still eating, ignoring him. This seemed to anger the two men enough as the one that had Mika in his grip began dragging him towards the door, knocking over his high seat with a resounding thud. Despite this, everyone in the pub remained their lively cheerful selves, as if the two men pulling the poor boy out of the pub wasn't happening.
Mika, on the other hand, loosened up like a rag doll, his entire body limp. Even though he knew he was going to be fine and that he could take these guys out...why did it still scare him? Was it because he was small? Was it because he was a Sin with barely any memories? Was it...because they looked down at him for being a kid? Mika's breathing slowly picked up as he let his mind feed him these insults and provocations. He knew he did't need to 'freak out' to get rid of these two men, but his body nor his mind were listening to him. There was no one to calm him down either.
Before he even knew it, he was thrown to the ground outside and behind the pub.
"So twerp, you think you can get away with dirtying my clothes?" Mika was wheezing at this point. Even if he wanted to answer, he couldn't as a large boot collided with his face, causing him to slide across the ground, accumulating more dirt on his body. With his nose now bleeding, Mika murmured a few words under his breath. However the man who delivered the kick and dragging him out of the pub seemed to pick up on what he said. "What was that? You got something to say, punk?!" The growled as he went for another kick, only to stopped by what looked like chains that appeared almost out of nowhere. The chains quickly began to wrap around the man as the fairy boy slowly got. With his switch completely flipped, he began to speak.
"First, you worms decided to show your ugly faces at the same pub that I go to."
The chains wrapped around the man's left leg constricted, a resounding crack reverberated around the area as the man simultaneously screamed in pain.
"Second, I grace your horrible presence and you don't even talk to me."
The right leg. Crack. Scream.
"Third, your filthy mouths addressing Chise like she belongs to you."
The left arm. Crack. Scream.
"Fourth, your poor hands decided they had the right to touch my clothes."
The right arm. Crack. Scream.
"And lastly...the way you pieces of shit looked down on me...unforgivable!"
The neck. Crack. Silence.
"Now, I'll give you ten seconds to get out of my sight, you mongrels."
Loki Odinson God of Lies and Trickery
Member
Seen
6 yrs ago
"If one doesn't live justly, one doesn't deserve to live."
Name: Arminel Blavier
Age: 29
Allegiance: Church of the White (default allegiance)
Position: Holy Knight
Height: 185cm
Weight: 74.6kg
Hair Color: Platinum blonde
Eye Color: Teal
Gender: Male
Written Appearance: Arminel is of taller than average height but gifted with a good, lithely-muscled build, the product of intensive training in the use of his spear and stamina-building exercises. Like most of the people from his family, his hair is solid platinum blonde, eye-catching in the dark and shining silver under sunlight. His long, straight hair hangs freely, the ends sitting just above his ribs. His fringe is parted to the left, covering his thin, slanting eyebrows. His teal eyes are heavy-lidded, giving him an apathetic and bored look, never ceasing in their darting movements, as though there is a constant need to be alert. There is a light crease between his brows due to frowning too much. His thin, pale lips, straight nose and sharp jawline are directly inherited from his mother. The pale skin and light colouring is all his father, though.
Clothes are the least of Arminel's concerns. As long as they are a comfortable fit and are able to cover all they are designed to, he would gladly wear them. However, his daily outfits changes depending on his current situation. If he is on duty - which seems to be most of the time - he is clad in his silver and dark blue armour, complete save for the helm he rarely wears. If he has to travel across the land on his own or is off-duty, he prefers dark coloured tunic, trousers and brown leather boots, with a long cloak to complete the outfit.
Personality: Arminel is mild-mannered and a hard person to offend, waving off insults and jokes in an equally offhanded manner, as long as it is directed at him only, of course. Quick to banter with people he has been acquainted with before or anyone he is comfortable around, he is the sort of man that is easy to befriend, work alongside and open up to as long as he is not being his typical lazy self, which usually rubs some people the wrong way. He works best when sufficiently motivated and/or under pressure. If not, he is pretty lax and uninitiative until a superior gives him a command. Beneath the unmotivated and seemingly dead-to-the-world look, he is rather perceptive when he wants to be. His observational skills are mostly used to avoid having more work heaped on him and escape from superiors.
Arminel believes that the law set down by the Holy Knights and the White God is right, and rules are placed there for a reason. He hates it when people try to find a way around it, twisting it so they will come off as innocent when they are clearly not. He will not hesitate to use his authority to do what he thinks is right.
Background: The Blavier House, once wealthy merchants, has transitioned into a Family that produced Holy Knights every generation ever since Grandfather Ewald became the Head. Ewald had always been a pious man, loudly proclaiming to all who bothered to listen about the wonder that is the White God and the glory He stands for. Tales of Ewald's exploits and those of his sons and daughters - both living and dead - would be recounted around the dinner table now and then, painting the Church as righteous and any who oppose the White God's will as foul, tainted being in need of rescue. Redemption granted only by death. It came as no surprise that from Ewald's generation onwards, members of the House slowly became pious.
Born as the middle child and only son to the youngest of Ewald's sons, Arminel's path in life was already determined by his parents and grandfather even before he was a year old. His older sister, while sharp of mind, was too sickly to be considered for the position of heir. Arminel had no say in it, not that he ever tried arguing. It took too much effort and frankly wasn't worth it. In addition, he was trained since childhood the arts of being a Holy Knight. Scriptures, polearm-training, history of the Church, ramifications of evil...all these subjects were heaped upon him the moment he could read and write. There wasn't any other path he thought he could take should he refuse to be a Knight of the Church. He could teach, he suppose, become a priest instead of a soldier, but Arminel made a horrible preacher.
Like every Blavier offspring in the latest generation, the sixteen-year-old Arminel who walked in to join the ranks of the Holy Knights was a brainwashed youth, brought up filled with views that those serving the White God could do no wrong, and the Black God's followers were blights to be terminated. His perception of the world was split clearly into black and white. There were no greys in between. This unquestioning obedience was an asset to the Church, one they didn't hesitate to exploit. Arminel managed to make a friend in a younger teen within his unit named Allerion Zephra.
At one point in the year he turned twenty-one, an incident during the eradication of a village deemed corrupted nearly broke his unwavering faith in the Church and his carefully constructed view on what was right and wrong. Fortunately, circumstances worked in a way that he remained, although there exists a small crack in his firm belief - so small even he isn't aware of. It still remained a traumatising memory, a worry he divulged to Rion. Holy Knights weren't meant to have traumas, but he did. Did that make him a failure?
Over the years, Arminel was an observer as the relationship between Allerion and a woman by the name of Mana progressed. He came to view her as another sister when the two got married, but refused to listen to her stories about Holy Knight doing unjust deeds. To him, they were rumours spread by evildoers in an attempt to slander the Church of White and unless he witnessed it with his own eyes, it will stay that way. Knowing it wasn't his place to interfere in matters between a married couple, Arminel could only sit back and watch as doubt begin to cloud Rion's view of the Church. There were times he reached out to his friend with subtle warnings, reminding him of his duties as a Holy Knight and what the Church stood for.
Clearly, it wasn't enough. For when the unit returned from a mission, Mana laid dead and Rion became obsessed with investigating the case behind his wife's death. He tried to dissuade his friend, distracting him from grief and sorrowful memories. It worked for a while, then Rion's temper snapped. He was suspended, leaving Arminel within the unit and feeling rather useless. This sense of not being able to help made him recall events in the past and the crack he didn't know was there is slowly being clipped at. Sure, obedience was enforced amongst the Church, but only one occasion of talking back to a superior overturned years of devotion. A suspend? Why? Did Rion say something offensive enough to warrant such punishment?
Current Story: Rion had left, without even saying a goodbye. Arminel had to learn of what happened from his comrades-in-arms and by the time he went to hunt down the younger Knight, he was gone. He would have gotten on his horse and left right away if not for his superior enforcing the rule that a Knight should not indulge in selfish reasons. So here he stays, couped up in headquarters and waiting to be sent on a mission, anxious on behalf of his friend but unwilling to defy the Church. Thus the only hope he holds is that his path would cross the younger Knight's in the near future.
Weapon: Ansgar, Arminel's Arc, is a blood-red spear with vine-like carvings running along the shaft. The magic imbued into this weapon allows razor winds to be generated from the blade at will. These razor winds only cut in a straight line, and direction is determined from the angle of the blade. Power behind the razor wind is determined by force behind the swing or stab. For example, razor wind from a weak swing will only scratch the surface of a typical stone wall while a swing with all his power behind it can severe it in two.
Ability: Earth's Fury: Using where he is currently standing as the epicenter, Arminel can direct seismic waves through the ground, causing the earth at a radius of up to 100m to tremble (meaning a diameter of 200m). Intensity of the tremors increases gradually by the minute, with the first minute being only the ground shaking, the second minute the earth starts to break apart. By the third minute, cracks and minor faults have formed on the ground and the fourth minute is when deeper faults start to appear and parts of the land may crumble beneath one's feet. However, the drawbacks are Arminel cannot move from where he is standing least he will risk being harmed by the damage caused by the quake, and if he cease causing the tremors, when he wants to continue, he will need to start from the very beginning again. His ability unfortunately does not discriminate between allies and enemies.
Writing Prompt:
The thundering of hooves caused his heart to beat in tandem. All around him, his comrades-in-arms rode majestically upon their respective mounts, eyes ahead and faces stern. A grim atmosphere accompanied the fast-moving unit, a sense of urgency exuding from every being. Hands tightening around reins, brows furrowed, tempers on short fuse. Up ahead, the Great Holy Knight leading the unit was accompanied by two priests wielding elegant staffs of the purest white wood. So bright they seemed to radiate their own light, shining a path ahead of the riders.
Dusk was passing, and night soon fell. Beneath the stars and full moon, the Knights continued unerringly towards their destination. The seemingly endless green plain finally came to an end, the scape of a village breaking the flat horizon as they cleared the final hill.
Zentide Village, once a proud supporter of the Church of White. Those days were far gone. Now the once prosperous village became a shadow of its former glory. Houses in need of repair, thin, starving bodies shuffling aimlessly along the mud-caked streets. Its majestic wooden gates were rotten and broken, parts falling off and worms wriggling on its surface. It truly looked like a place infested and overran by evil.
At an unspoken command, the horses were reined in to a halt. A perfectly uniform square of armoured Knights stayed a few meters away from the closed gates, motionless save for the few head-tosses and shuffling of the mounts. Watching the Great Holy Knight and the priests flanking her, Arminel’s breath came out in low hisses, tension locking his spine straight. His head felt stuffy beneath his helm, Ansgar a heavier weight on his back. His palms were sweaty due to nerves, and he couldn’t help the small twitch when the gates creaked open to admit the three riders. A small group of villagers approached, but he was too far to hear the exchange, and positioned in a way lip-reading wasn’t an option.
“Easy, Blavier. Don’t let your nerves get to you.” Flynn’s husky voice whispered from his right, succeeding in dispersing some anxiety. “This’ll be a simple one. Just do what needs to be done, yeah?”
Managing a jerky nod in gratitude, Arminel’s gaze snapped to the returning party, noting the dark expression on his superior’s face. The priests on either side were openly sneering. So that’s how tonight will go. Although this wasn’t his first extermination mission ever since he joined the Church, this was his first time eradicating an entire village on the crime of harbouring wanted evildoers. From the looks of things, the villagers had either denied their actions or openly defied the Church. Despite the anxiety curling in the pits of his stomach, a rush of pity welled up. The poor ignorant masses. If only they would listen to reason. Now, they could only seek salvation through death. Beneath the visor of his helm, he closed his eyes and murmured a prayer of forgiveness and mercy.
A sharp gesture and the unit fanned out to completely surround the village, hands on respective weapons, ready to draw at moment’s notice. The horses, sensing their rider’s shift in emotions, began pawing the ground, nostrils flared in aggression. Calming his stallion down with a light click of the tongue and a soothing touch, Arminel kept track of the flurry of activities unfolding in the village behind the pathetic wooden fence. Torches were lit, crude arms passing from men to men, children secreted away and even a few women were amongst the growing crowd rallying to oppose the Knights.
“Today, you are truly blessed!” The older priest lifted his staff and boomed, words meant for the Church’s warriors. “Today, you fight for the White God himself! Today, you will assist in cleansing this earth of unholy heathens!” The man’s eyes were wild with fervour, orange light from torches flickering through his dark eyes. “Let the grass turn red with the blood of these heretics! They have sinned against Him and all He stands for! They have colluded with evil and revered in their depravity! Their mortal bodies must be punished and their souls redeemed! Strike down with His justice! Let none survive!”
Even before the last ringing word echoed in the night, the soldiers moved as one, horses leaping over or barrelling through the fence and gate, falling upon the poorly armed villagers like vengeful demons out for blood. Just like that chaos erupted. Arminel couldn’t quite remember the details of this night, but the memories that stuck were the rise and fall of his own spear, blade cleaving through and piercing body after body, the shock and hatred etched on every face melding into one. He was numb to it all, the words duty and heretics flashing repeatedly in his mind. They all deserved to die. There was no place for hesitation.
When he eventually stopped moving, he was still seated upon his horse, its white body stained with specks or crimson. Bodies littered the ground. Young and old. Trampled, impaled, decapitated. The stench of death was suffocating and seared his eyes, burned into his mind. Blood. He could smell it everywhere. On him, on the burning buildings around him, on his fellow Knights. He could even smell it wafting up from the mud and grass beneath his feet. The light rain pattering around them – searing, acidic, soul-sucking in its iciness – did nothing to help block the stench. If anything, the water droplets themselves carried a heavy scent of iron, as if the heavens itself was crying blood. He could smell the fire too. The acrid stench of wood slowly being reduced to ash, a hint of sulfur being carried in the smoke as houses, walls, people of Zentide burning all around. Their screams echoed into the night, creating a haunting chorus of dying wails. And still, the sickening squelch of weapons running through bones and muscles sounded, overlapping with the occasional clash of steel on steel.
“Another glorious day for the Church.” A light airy voice belonging to his unit’s commander came from behind him.
The Great Holy Knight nudged her still pristine mount forward, a satisfied smile on her face, eyes gleaming in triumph. Pushing his visor up, Arminel’s dead gaze locked onto hers for a second before dropping to the ground. A sight caught his attention and he dismounted, walking forward a few paces before dropping to one knee and brushed mud away with the hand not clutching his weapon. His fingers stilled abruptly as they encountered cold, dead flesh. His eyes prickled, a choking cry stuck in his throat.
“Glorious? You call this glorious?” He asked in a whisper, voice harsh and raspy even as he addressed his superior, gaze not moving from the dead infant laying on the ground, pinned beneath the corpses of its parents. “Is the slaughter of innocent children glorious?”
“Watch your tongue, Knight.” The woman’s voice whipped out, tone frosty. “Anyone associated with infidels must be erased. Children are no different. They become tainted the moment their parents embraced evil. We saved their souls from eternal damnation.”
Screwing his eyes shut, he bowed lower as though it would help block the myriad of emotions warring within him. Those words were a familiar one, preached in various scriptures and from the mouths of many believers. It was engraved within him since childhood. But witnessing it happen right before his eyes was different. So very different. Was what he did the right thing? He was putting an end to wickedness, wasn’t he? All he had experienced in his twenty-one years of life told him so but a small part of him still baulked at the idea of ending a child’s life. It hit too close to home, as though he personally held a blade towards his younger sibling’s neck.
His frame trembled at the thought. In his earlier frenzy, had he mindlessly skewered a child? Oh Lord above. He couldn’t remember!
Before his mind could descend more into chaos, a startled yelp and clang of a blade hitting the ground caused his head to snap up. What he saw surprised him. A young child standing over a fallen Knight, whose helm was off and weapon out of reach. The young man was spotting a nasty leg injury and Arminel was the closest Knight to the scene. The boy lifted a rusty shortsword with both hand, thin arms trembling from exertion but face contorted into an expression of pure loathing. Tears and snot ran down the gaunt face even as he gave a piercing shriek and stabbed the sword forward at the downed knight. The rusty blade never met its mark.
Arminel moved on instinct. The entire scenario took a scant few seconds to play out, and all he registered was someone was going to kill a brother.
Ansgar swung through the air in a horizontal motion, urgency causing Arminel to inject every bit of strength he could muster behind the movement. The boy’s head flew from his shoulder, remaining airborne for a second, then dropped back onto the earth with a dull smack.
“Now you see, Knight Blavier, the things wickedness can incite even an innocent child to do.” The Great Holy Knight’s voice was back, this time gentle and warm. Soothing, as though that of a caring mother educating her child the ways of the world. “It is our duty to save. A dark and strenuous task at times, especially when evil takes advantage of the goodness of your heart. But you must never forget…those that don’t live justly don’t deserve to live.”
As his superior moved away, a soft chuckle slipped pass his lips. Yes, how did he forget that creed? His duty as a Knight was to ensure the White God’s justice prevailed in this world. Everything and anything that opposed His will should be eliminated. Or else, it would be the Church that falls.
Dusk was passing, and night soon fell. Beneath the stars and full moon, the Knights continued unerringly towards their destination. The seemingly endless green plain finally came to an end, the scape of a village breaking the flat horizon as they cleared the final hill.
Zentide Village, once a proud supporter of the Church of White. Those days were far gone. Now the once prosperous village became a shadow of its former glory. Houses in need of repair, thin, starving bodies shuffling aimlessly along the mud-caked streets. Its majestic wooden gates were rotten and broken, parts falling off and worms wriggling on its surface. It truly looked like a place infested and overran by evil.
At an unspoken command, the horses were reined in to a halt. A perfectly uniform square of armoured Knights stayed a few meters away from the closed gates, motionless save for the few head-tosses and shuffling of the mounts. Watching the Great Holy Knight and the priests flanking her, Arminel’s breath came out in low hisses, tension locking his spine straight. His head felt stuffy beneath his helm, Ansgar a heavier weight on his back. His palms were sweaty due to nerves, and he couldn’t help the small twitch when the gates creaked open to admit the three riders. A small group of villagers approached, but he was too far to hear the exchange, and positioned in a way lip-reading wasn’t an option.
“Easy, Blavier. Don’t let your nerves get to you.” Flynn’s husky voice whispered from his right, succeeding in dispersing some anxiety. “This’ll be a simple one. Just do what needs to be done, yeah?”
Managing a jerky nod in gratitude, Arminel’s gaze snapped to the returning party, noting the dark expression on his superior’s face. The priests on either side were openly sneering. So that’s how tonight will go. Although this wasn’t his first extermination mission ever since he joined the Church, this was his first time eradicating an entire village on the crime of harbouring wanted evildoers. From the looks of things, the villagers had either denied their actions or openly defied the Church. Despite the anxiety curling in the pits of his stomach, a rush of pity welled up. The poor ignorant masses. If only they would listen to reason. Now, they could only seek salvation through death. Beneath the visor of his helm, he closed his eyes and murmured a prayer of forgiveness and mercy.
A sharp gesture and the unit fanned out to completely surround the village, hands on respective weapons, ready to draw at moment’s notice. The horses, sensing their rider’s shift in emotions, began pawing the ground, nostrils flared in aggression. Calming his stallion down with a light click of the tongue and a soothing touch, Arminel kept track of the flurry of activities unfolding in the village behind the pathetic wooden fence. Torches were lit, crude arms passing from men to men, children secreted away and even a few women were amongst the growing crowd rallying to oppose the Knights.
“Today, you are truly blessed!” The older priest lifted his staff and boomed, words meant for the Church’s warriors. “Today, you fight for the White God himself! Today, you will assist in cleansing this earth of unholy heathens!” The man’s eyes were wild with fervour, orange light from torches flickering through his dark eyes. “Let the grass turn red with the blood of these heretics! They have sinned against Him and all He stands for! They have colluded with evil and revered in their depravity! Their mortal bodies must be punished and their souls redeemed! Strike down with His justice! Let none survive!”
Even before the last ringing word echoed in the night, the soldiers moved as one, horses leaping over or barrelling through the fence and gate, falling upon the poorly armed villagers like vengeful demons out for blood. Just like that chaos erupted. Arminel couldn’t quite remember the details of this night, but the memories that stuck were the rise and fall of his own spear, blade cleaving through and piercing body after body, the shock and hatred etched on every face melding into one. He was numb to it all, the words duty and heretics flashing repeatedly in his mind. They all deserved to die. There was no place for hesitation.
When he eventually stopped moving, he was still seated upon his horse, its white body stained with specks or crimson. Bodies littered the ground. Young and old. Trampled, impaled, decapitated. The stench of death was suffocating and seared his eyes, burned into his mind. Blood. He could smell it everywhere. On him, on the burning buildings around him, on his fellow Knights. He could even smell it wafting up from the mud and grass beneath his feet. The light rain pattering around them – searing, acidic, soul-sucking in its iciness – did nothing to help block the stench. If anything, the water droplets themselves carried a heavy scent of iron, as if the heavens itself was crying blood. He could smell the fire too. The acrid stench of wood slowly being reduced to ash, a hint of sulfur being carried in the smoke as houses, walls, people of Zentide burning all around. Their screams echoed into the night, creating a haunting chorus of dying wails. And still, the sickening squelch of weapons running through bones and muscles sounded, overlapping with the occasional clash of steel on steel.
“Another glorious day for the Church.” A light airy voice belonging to his unit’s commander came from behind him.
The Great Holy Knight nudged her still pristine mount forward, a satisfied smile on her face, eyes gleaming in triumph. Pushing his visor up, Arminel’s dead gaze locked onto hers for a second before dropping to the ground. A sight caught his attention and he dismounted, walking forward a few paces before dropping to one knee and brushed mud away with the hand not clutching his weapon. His fingers stilled abruptly as they encountered cold, dead flesh. His eyes prickled, a choking cry stuck in his throat.
“Glorious? You call this glorious?” He asked in a whisper, voice harsh and raspy even as he addressed his superior, gaze not moving from the dead infant laying on the ground, pinned beneath the corpses of its parents. “Is the slaughter of innocent children glorious?”
“Watch your tongue, Knight.” The woman’s voice whipped out, tone frosty. “Anyone associated with infidels must be erased. Children are no different. They become tainted the moment their parents embraced evil. We saved their souls from eternal damnation.”
Screwing his eyes shut, he bowed lower as though it would help block the myriad of emotions warring within him. Those words were a familiar one, preached in various scriptures and from the mouths of many believers. It was engraved within him since childhood. But witnessing it happen right before his eyes was different. So very different. Was what he did the right thing? He was putting an end to wickedness, wasn’t he? All he had experienced in his twenty-one years of life told him so but a small part of him still baulked at the idea of ending a child’s life. It hit too close to home, as though he personally held a blade towards his younger sibling’s neck.
His frame trembled at the thought. In his earlier frenzy, had he mindlessly skewered a child? Oh Lord above. He couldn’t remember!
Before his mind could descend more into chaos, a startled yelp and clang of a blade hitting the ground caused his head to snap up. What he saw surprised him. A young child standing over a fallen Knight, whose helm was off and weapon out of reach. The young man was spotting a nasty leg injury and Arminel was the closest Knight to the scene. The boy lifted a rusty shortsword with both hand, thin arms trembling from exertion but face contorted into an expression of pure loathing. Tears and snot ran down the gaunt face even as he gave a piercing shriek and stabbed the sword forward at the downed knight. The rusty blade never met its mark.
Arminel moved on instinct. The entire scenario took a scant few seconds to play out, and all he registered was someone was going to kill a brother.
Ansgar swung through the air in a horizontal motion, urgency causing Arminel to inject every bit of strength he could muster behind the movement. The boy’s head flew from his shoulder, remaining airborne for a second, then dropped back onto the earth with a dull smack.
“Now you see, Knight Blavier, the things wickedness can incite even an innocent child to do.” The Great Holy Knight’s voice was back, this time gentle and warm. Soothing, as though that of a caring mother educating her child the ways of the world. “It is our duty to save. A dark and strenuous task at times, especially when evil takes advantage of the goodness of your heart. But you must never forget…those that don’t live justly don’t deserve to live.”
As his superior moved away, a soft chuckle slipped pass his lips. Yes, how did he forget that creed? His duty as a Knight was to ensure the White God’s justice prevailed in this world. Everything and anything that opposed His will should be eliminated. Or else, it would be the Church that falls.
AllHollowsEve A bored board
Member
Seen
7 yrs ago
Eliphas Voltaire
Name:
Eliphas VoltaireAge:
Appears to be twenty-threeSin:
SlothHeight:
6'2Weight:
130Hair Color:
PurpleEye Color:
PurpleGender:
MaleWritten Appearance:
Eliphas is tall, thin, and pale.Brand Appearance:
The brand used to mark Eliphas' sin bares the image of a spider sat at the center of a spiral. It is located on the beck of his neck, just below his hair line. He covers it with his long hair, though that's not the reason he grows his hair out.Personality:
Eliphas is kind and supportive, even a little bit of a comedian. He's always willing to help out others, but he's terrible of staying on top of his own duties. When forced into conflict with another person, he'll more often choose silence to diffuse the situation, rather than defending himself and stating his mind. More often than not, though, he'll try to avoid conflict all together.Background:
Eliphas can't remember anything from before being banished. Or maybe he simply chooses not to. After all, whatever it was couldn't have been pleasant. It's probably better left forgotten.Current Story:
Immediatley after being banished, Eliphas went into hiding. He didn't actually know what he was running from, which made it all the more frightening. For a while, he tried to make it as a nomad, never settling down. Eventually, though, he got tired of constantly picking up and moving. He decided to get lost in a swamp, where he found an abandoned cottage. That is where he has been to this day, slowly repairing the cottage piece at a time. He keeps himself fed by making traps for the various swamp creatures. They don't taste good at all, but he doesn't have to leave the swamp.Weapon:
Stihlhander, Eliphas's Arc Weapon, takes the form of a set of simple leather gloves when not in use. However, Eliphas can use them to summon massive floating gauntlets. He uses these to both attack and defend while his body remains still. In an emergency, or when he's feeling lazy, he can use the gauntlets to pick himself up and move around without technically moving his body at all.
Ability:
Total Rest allows Eliphas to endlessly restore his own health and energy, extending the ability to others through physical contact. However, he must remain completely still to do so.My writing sample for Eliphas. I didn't mean for it to get so long, there was just a lot I wanted to convey. ^^'
Deep in a swamp in the middle of nowhere was an old, abandoned cottage. The river folk would tell travelers not to go near it. They said it was cursed; for, many years ago something happened there. Something not very nice... but that was then. Now it was nothing more than a rotted out ruin in the middle of a slowly sinking swamp. Coincidentally, it also happened to house one of the most notorious of criminals in all the lands.
Eliphas was vaguely aware of being awake, though his eyes were still closed. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes just enough to see through, not wanting to wake up fully. Looking up at his bedroom window, he discovered the cause of his unexpected consciousness. The curtain was open slightly, allowing the smallest ray of early morning sun through into the dark, gloomy room; using the terms "window", "curtain", and "room" in their loosest definitions, of course. The window was, in truth, nothing more than a rotted hole in the wall. A large, broken pain of glass had been placed inside the hole and sealed with swamp mud, now dry and brick like. The curtain was nothing more than a blanket that hung off of two nails that, more than likely, had once held a painting. The room itself was a mess. Not only were there dishes and clothes piled up everywhere, but there was a significant portion of the floor that had rotted away, leaving nothing but a gaping chasm.
Eliphas tugged the "curtain" closed and went back to sleep. It was at least another hour and a half before he woke up again, having rested too deeply to remain asleep any longer. The first thing that Eliphas did after stretching was to lean over the edge of his bed and grab his clothes off the floor. He only owned three shirts and one pair of pants, two if you count pajamas. He sniffed his shirt. It smelled foul. "... it's probably the cleanest..." Eliphas muttered to himself. "I'll just have to remember to do laundry tomorrow." He knew he probably wouldn't. He pulled his clothes on, still sitting on his bed. The last items slipped on were a pair of simple leather gloves. He remained motionless for a moment, when all of a sudden, a massive gauntlet floated down through a hole in the roof. He didn't react to it at all, just bundled his blankets into the open palm and sat down in the middle of them, like a bird in it's nest. The palm was just big enough to accommodate him with his lugs tucked in. Once he was secure, it lifted him out of the so called house, floating just above it. Hovvering next to the first gauntlet was a second.
Eliphas looked around, surveying the land he had worked hard to mold to his needs. Well, he had worked to mold it to his needs. Well... suffice to say that Eliphas had made an attempt to transform it. He had tried to plant some fruit bearing trees or some vegetables, but the swamp swallowed them up. He tried to make the ground better for growing, but he didn't even know where to start. His first thought was to just remove the soil using his gauntlets and replace it with better soil, but that had just allowed the water to flow in. Now he had less land and even more water. "...still trying to puzzle that one out..." he muttered absent mindedly. Looking down, he saw that his roof was choked with the strange variety of vines that grew in this swamp. He called them "web vines" due to their adhesive properties. "... I'd say about another month before I can harvest them. Then I can repair... or... put up the door... and fix that..." he trailed off, not bothering to finish saying what he was already thinking. It wasn't as if he had anyone to entertain.
At some point he had stopped thinking of the things he needed to do and drifted off into a daydream. It started off as pleasant,
but after about twenty minutes, it had started going a direction that he didn't like very much. Eventually, he decided to do something productive to distract him from his thoughts. He had the gauntlet he was sitting in, the right one, carry him over his cottage, past a ring of swamp trees. That was one thing he had managed to get right. They were already used to this environment, all he had to do was get some seeds and plant them. They weren't very thick trees, but they grew rapidly, making them an excellent source of wood. It was the marriage of excess wood and troublesome web vine that had granted Eliphas his lone source of pride in his humid, putrid swamp.
The gauntlet descended, hovering low enough for Eliphas to safely jump off, if he chose to. He did not. Below him and all around him were traps and snares of multiple varieties. It was what he spent the majority of his time on and he had enough to form a second ring around his trees. He drifted over them, as he did everyday or so, checking to see if they caught anything. The vast majority of them were designed to capture without harming, so that he could release the animal if it wasn't something he was after. Although, he did have some nastier traps rigged for self defense, should any top predators try their luck with him. "... or someone comes looking for you..." Eliphas muttered to himself. "Noone is coming after me." He responded, slightly annoyed. After a moment, he asked himself "... then what are you doing here...?" After another, slightly longer moment, he answered "I'm waiting." He really hoped he wouldn't call himself out, but he knew he would. "Oh, yeah?" he asked, toying with himself. "... and what, pray tell, are you waiting for...?"
Eliphas remained silent. He didn't have an answer for himself.
Eliphas was vaguely aware of being awake, though his eyes were still closed. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes just enough to see through, not wanting to wake up fully. Looking up at his bedroom window, he discovered the cause of his unexpected consciousness. The curtain was open slightly, allowing the smallest ray of early morning sun through into the dark, gloomy room; using the terms "window", "curtain", and "room" in their loosest definitions, of course. The window was, in truth, nothing more than a rotted hole in the wall. A large, broken pain of glass had been placed inside the hole and sealed with swamp mud, now dry and brick like. The curtain was nothing more than a blanket that hung off of two nails that, more than likely, had once held a painting. The room itself was a mess. Not only were there dishes and clothes piled up everywhere, but there was a significant portion of the floor that had rotted away, leaving nothing but a gaping chasm.
Eliphas tugged the "curtain" closed and went back to sleep. It was at least another hour and a half before he woke up again, having rested too deeply to remain asleep any longer. The first thing that Eliphas did after stretching was to lean over the edge of his bed and grab his clothes off the floor. He only owned three shirts and one pair of pants, two if you count pajamas. He sniffed his shirt. It smelled foul. "... it's probably the cleanest..." Eliphas muttered to himself. "I'll just have to remember to do laundry tomorrow." He knew he probably wouldn't. He pulled his clothes on, still sitting on his bed. The last items slipped on were a pair of simple leather gloves. He remained motionless for a moment, when all of a sudden, a massive gauntlet floated down through a hole in the roof. He didn't react to it at all, just bundled his blankets into the open palm and sat down in the middle of them, like a bird in it's nest. The palm was just big enough to accommodate him with his lugs tucked in. Once he was secure, it lifted him out of the so called house, floating just above it. Hovvering next to the first gauntlet was a second.
Eliphas looked around, surveying the land he had worked hard to mold to his needs. Well, he had worked to mold it to his needs. Well... suffice to say that Eliphas had made an attempt to transform it. He had tried to plant some fruit bearing trees or some vegetables, but the swamp swallowed them up. He tried to make the ground better for growing, but he didn't even know where to start. His first thought was to just remove the soil using his gauntlets and replace it with better soil, but that had just allowed the water to flow in. Now he had less land and even more water. "...still trying to puzzle that one out..." he muttered absent mindedly. Looking down, he saw that his roof was choked with the strange variety of vines that grew in this swamp. He called them "web vines" due to their adhesive properties. "... I'd say about another month before I can harvest them. Then I can repair... or... put up the door... and fix that..." he trailed off, not bothering to finish saying what he was already thinking. It wasn't as if he had anyone to entertain.
At some point he had stopped thinking of the things he needed to do and drifted off into a daydream. It started off as pleasant,
but after about twenty minutes, it had started going a direction that he didn't like very much. Eventually, he decided to do something productive to distract him from his thoughts. He had the gauntlet he was sitting in, the right one, carry him over his cottage, past a ring of swamp trees. That was one thing he had managed to get right. They were already used to this environment, all he had to do was get some seeds and plant them. They weren't very thick trees, but they grew rapidly, making them an excellent source of wood. It was the marriage of excess wood and troublesome web vine that had granted Eliphas his lone source of pride in his humid, putrid swamp.
The gauntlet descended, hovering low enough for Eliphas to safely jump off, if he chose to. He did not. Below him and all around him were traps and snares of multiple varieties. It was what he spent the majority of his time on and he had enough to form a second ring around his trees. He drifted over them, as he did everyday or so, checking to see if they caught anything. The vast majority of them were designed to capture without harming, so that he could release the animal if it wasn't something he was after. Although, he did have some nastier traps rigged for self defense, should any top predators try their luck with him. "... or someone comes looking for you..." Eliphas muttered to himself. "Noone is coming after me." He responded, slightly annoyed. After a moment, he asked himself "... then what are you doing here...?" After another, slightly longer moment, he answered "I'm waiting." He really hoped he wouldn't call himself out, but he knew he would. "Oh, yeah?" he asked, toying with himself. "... and what, pray tell, are you waiting for...?"
Eliphas remained silent. He didn't have an answer for himself.
Mega Birb Blessed Birb
Member
Seen
2 yrs ago
NAME:
Maximilian Vert
ALIAS’:
Max, Boss, Mr. Hyde
AGE:
Appears to be in his early-mid 30’s
SIN:
Wrath
HEIGHT:
5’09” - 175cm
WEIGHT:
163lbs. - 74kg
HAIR COLOR:
Dark Brown
EYE COLOR:
Green
SEX:
Male
WRITTEN APPEARANCE:
Max, as he is called in casual conversation by those who dare, isn’t a tall or barrel-chested man as one would expect from the embodiment of Wrath. Instead, he’s a man of average height and muscled build, rough in appearance with a face that’s seen it’s fair share of losses. His hair is nearly always windswept, dark brown locks locked in place by sweat and grease, while his cheeks bear a set of sideburns kept carefully trimmed. He dresses well, most often in black vests and pants, rounded out by a fitting, dark green coat. He commonly wears a pair of black leather gloves as well.
BRAND APPEARANCE:
Maximilian’s brand resembles a crowned crow, and it is placed squarely between his shoulder blades. He believes it stands for the wrathful and predatory nature of a monarchy.
PERSONALITY:
Maximilian Vert enjoys nothing more than subjugating those beneath him, whether it be a human or a rat, he doesn’t care. His cruel nature is hidden behind a managerial facade, however, as the developing power of steam requires many hands to keep it from dying out early. He enjoys fueling discontent among his workers, giving them reasons to be outraged at each other, almost like he’s fanning the flames of a wildfire.
The embodiment of Wrath is a careful sort, never too caught up in his own desires to put himself at risk, but always unable to resist the temptation of flexing his authority. He is, however, quick to anger and more than likely the first to throw a punch in any situation.
The embodiment of Wrath is a careful sort, never too caught up in his own desires to put himself at risk, but always unable to resist the temptation of flexing his authority. He is, however, quick to anger and more than likely the first to throw a punch in any situation.
BACKGROUND:
”I’ve followed every whisper and stepped on anyone in my path to find out what the hell happened, and still NOTHING ten years later! Not even a twinge of my memories surfacing!”
CURRENT STORY:
Maximilian had awoken on the streets of a city just starting to integrate steam power with nothing but the clothes on his back and the faint memory of his own name. Beyond that, he knew nothing of his previous life. A few short days wandering the neighborhoods rewarded him with bits of his personality coming back and a small number of scraps he had won without much thought. From one such victim of a thrashing, he heard of a number of underground boxing rings spread throughout the city, and the logical step of the amnesiac was to attend one to simply test the waters.
Nearly a year later, he had earned enough money and cracked enough skulls to establish himself as an iron-fisted individual that could put anyone in their place. Before he knew it, a textile factory swept him up and put him in charge of the entire building, with a simple order to keep the workers in line. To this day, the mere mention of his name is enough to snap the laziest man into overdrive. Recently, Max has decided to leave the city for awhile to find out more about the massive blank spot in his memory. In his place, he left a friend named Digby in charge of the factory.
Nearly a year later, he had earned enough money and cracked enough skulls to establish himself as an iron-fisted individual that could put anyone in their place. Before he knew it, a textile factory swept him up and put him in charge of the entire building, with a simple order to keep the workers in line. To this day, the mere mention of his name is enough to snap the laziest man into overdrive. Recently, Max has decided to leave the city for awhile to find out more about the massive blank spot in his memory. In his place, he left a friend named Digby in charge of the factory.
WEAPON:
The Brass Hands are a pair of brass knuckles wielded by Maximilian, both simple in design and purpose. Four spiked rings are linked together that fit their owner’s hands like a glove, all held together by a stopper that fits in the palm. They appear to have been created from a solid piece of brass. They never seem to wear, no matter how much abuse they’re put through.
ABILITY:
Moxie is the trademark of Maximilian, allowing him to power through the toughest opponents given he can land a hit. With every successful strike, he hits harder and swings faster, making him a massive threat as long as he can get up to speed. As a visual side effect, the veins in his arms pulse with his heartrate, which has led him to his current coat-and-glove combination.
The massive doors to the factory’s main floor flew open with enough force to threaten the sliders they rested upon, and in came a man in a green coat, mid-rage. The doors slammed into the ends of their tracks just as he stepped beyond the threshold, the entire atmosphere of the building changing as his footfalls signalled doom for someone. One of the workers, a younger man, made the mistake of continuing a conversation with nobody.
The man in the green coat snapped his head in the sole direction of a voice, teeth grinding as he stomped towards it. The young worker, oblivious for whatever reason, turned around just in time to see his boss charging for him. ”Welcome back Mr. Hy- I mea-” He was cut off by a hand grabbing his collar and pulling him in.
”WHAT did you just call me!?” he shouted, loud enough for the entire building to be silenced, except the whirring machines.
”I-I called you Mr. Ver-” The worker was met with a forceful punch, his head jerking past as the knuckles flew into his cheek.
”Don’t lie to a man on which your sorry life depends! Now, what did you call me?” His tone dropped slightly, the question coming across this time as a threat.
”I called you M-Mr. Hyde,” the employee stammered. He was then dropped by his boss, who turned around to address everyone else in the factory.
His voice boomed as he called out to them, sounding more like a showman than a dictator. ”Boys! The very name of Maximilian Vert has been slandered to my own face! And by who? A new hire with gall! What do we do to workers that think they can get away with defacing me!?” A chorus of cheers echoed back, and a grin split the green-coated man’s face. ”That’s right! We put them in their place!”
He turned around to the offender and grabbed him by the collar again, this time dragging him out to the center of the floor, an open space of flagstone. He was tossed to the floor as the cries of a gathering crowd called for him to get on his feet. Meanwhile Maximilian shed his coat, leaving him in a vest and a pinstriped shirt. He rolled up the sleeves as he turned around just in time to watch the man get to his feet.
”Here’s how this works; you win, and I hand over management of this building to you. I win, and you get your mouth sewn shut until I decide to rip it open.” Both parties squared up for a fight, one confident in his actions and the other shaking like a leaf in the breeze.
To this day, Maximilian Vert is in charge of that textile factory, despite countless similar bets.
The man in the green coat snapped his head in the sole direction of a voice, teeth grinding as he stomped towards it. The young worker, oblivious for whatever reason, turned around just in time to see his boss charging for him. ”Welcome back Mr. Hy- I mea-” He was cut off by a hand grabbing his collar and pulling him in.
”WHAT did you just call me!?” he shouted, loud enough for the entire building to be silenced, except the whirring machines.
”I-I called you Mr. Ver-” The worker was met with a forceful punch, his head jerking past as the knuckles flew into his cheek.
”Don’t lie to a man on which your sorry life depends! Now, what did you call me?” His tone dropped slightly, the question coming across this time as a threat.
”I called you M-Mr. Hyde,” the employee stammered. He was then dropped by his boss, who turned around to address everyone else in the factory.
His voice boomed as he called out to them, sounding more like a showman than a dictator. ”Boys! The very name of Maximilian Vert has been slandered to my own face! And by who? A new hire with gall! What do we do to workers that think they can get away with defacing me!?” A chorus of cheers echoed back, and a grin split the green-coated man’s face. ”That’s right! We put them in their place!”
He turned around to the offender and grabbed him by the collar again, this time dragging him out to the center of the floor, an open space of flagstone. He was tossed to the floor as the cries of a gathering crowd called for him to get on his feet. Meanwhile Maximilian shed his coat, leaving him in a vest and a pinstriped shirt. He rolled up the sleeves as he turned around just in time to watch the man get to his feet.
”Here’s how this works; you win, and I hand over management of this building to you. I win, and you get your mouth sewn shut until I decide to rip it open.” Both parties squared up for a fight, one confident in his actions and the other shaking like a leaf in the breeze.
To this day, Maximilian Vert is in charge of that textile factory, despite countless similar bets.
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