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 Posted: Thu Sep 12, 2013 2:26 am
Raph's at the mechanist hangar. Sorry for confusing you with my lack of exits haha.
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Posted: Thu Sep 12, 2013 9:40 am
Shane Allgay Errday Raph's at the mechanist hangar. Sorry for confusing you with my lack of exits haha. (You should fix that. XP Oh well....time to find info on my own. >D)
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Posted: Thu Sep 12, 2013 9:47 am
 Kumori The Shadow Magistrate ╔══════════════╗ Kumori looked around as he heard no sounds and shrugged as he opened the doors himself and went inside. As he did, he was a bit impressed at the interior of the palace before he began to walk around. He was met with guards who questioned his presence before he swayed them away with reasoning. When he found no info, he sighed and left, getting to Brian and going into his shadow as he began to walk away. (Exit Kumori and Brian) Energy: 550 Strength: 7 Speed: 4 ╚══════════════╝ "Miza! Now you will know true terror!" The Shadow of a Legendary man
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Posted: Wed Sep 18, 2013 8:50 pm
"You have all the power in the world, Raphael." The lady massaged his temple, staring into the mirror where he seemed enraptured in his own reflection. She wondered what was going on in his head. Was he feeling jealous, sad, angry or a mixture of the three? She knew he was feeling something. The Emperor wore his heart in his sleep, and for good reason, after all he'd been through. "You're truly the last and only Sage; you're the strongest fighter, and you command a great nation. I know that it may be easy to look at yourself and think that you have nothing to your name, but you have what everyone in the whole world would kill for. You're handsome, smart, and you're going to stay young forever. Your reality is a fantasy to the billions of lesser people." She wished he could see the good in his life, instead of magnifying on all the bad. It wasn't like he was insecure -- quite the opposite, actually. He was a narcissist, believing that he had the divine right to everything. That he had the key that would unlock the legs of the world and permit him entry. It was strange that a man so self-empowering would reduce himself to this jealousy.
He was just tired of always being the loser when it mattered. "The fact that I have Pride..." he finally spoke, "Only makes it all worse. I can't conquer the world if I can't even control this one situation. It makes me feel pathetic." He stared at Isis' reflection in the mirror, seeing that she looked very concerned. At that point, he let on a reassuring smile. "You don't have to worry though, Isis. I'm not going to let myself get left behind again. So many people have abandoned me that I can't even remember their names. I refuse to ever add another to that list." He'd always tried to tell himself that it was okay. That there were many fish in the sea, and he could find one later who would be perfect for him. But that answer had come and gone a million times, and he hadn't found anyone yet. That 'answer' was the same as doing nothing. And he wouldn't ever be happy if he just said that, over and over. "I was born, and bred for high things. My mother seduced the King, and he adopted me as one of his own. He educated me, taught me how to fight, and he made me believe that at the end of the road, when I was ready, I could use all of this knowledge to both lead Fraxen, and find love. Happiness." That all turned out to be wrong, though. All of the effort he'd put into becoming the perfect leader, fighter and lover didn't really get him anywhere.
"Of course, it was all a lie." Sometimes he wondered if the reason he hated seeing an Incubi all content with their master was because he didn't have one himself. He tried to make himself believe it was because he knew they'd be abandoned and enslaved, but what if that was all a lie? He didn't even know if it was really true that most of them got left. Maybe the majority of them found love and content. How could people who were one tenth the man he was get everything he wanted, while he was stuck brooding over his jealousy of a novice? It made no sense. "The truth is that people will resort to anything to get what they want. They'll lie, betray, abandon and kill. Honor is the same thing as weakness, and we both know that the weak never get anything." This world wasn't a place where everyone could be happy. There was only so much to give out, and everyone tried to hoard whatever they could get. Selfish people destroyed the lives of the selfless people, and the unholy buried the holy or burned them to ash.
It was a world of darkness. "So... what I take from this is that..." She stepped back onto her seat, and shrugged. "You want to kill Danielle?" Basically, yeah. That was the underlying message of all this. He wanted to play with a different rule book than before. She didn't want that to happen, though. It'd come to bite him in the a**. "You know, it's funny, but I think that it's a good idea. I was actually reading an article about this the other day -- a list of Kings throughout history who'd 'disposed' of the competition to have what they want. Being an Emperor as cunning as you, it'd be easy. And it would normally work, in a different scenario." And then, her disapproval came. "But it won't work with Kirin. Don't tell me how, but he'll know. You've already made it very obvious that you want him, so he will suspect you. And then your relationship will live off of mistrust and maybe even vengeance. You'll let your guard down when you think he loves you, and then he'll betray you." That was where she saw that whole relationship going; straight to hell. And Raphael wouldn't want to start things off by disposing of his competition. That was a very cruel way to get what he wanted.
"Be honest. With yourself, with how you feel, and be honest with them. If you make yourself seem like you have an honest heart and an open mind, their morals will allow them no other option but to listen." Sometimes, being a good person was the answer. Lust didn't teach Raphael and Isis of that solution, she only taught them to be selfish murderers. But Isis learned this from someone else; from God. He allowed her to believe that sometimes, you could be happy without ruining the happiness of others. "I will talk to Danielle in private. I'll tell her about everything you've gone through, from A to Z. I'll vouch for you. And then we can set this all aside, and we can stop talking of selfish people and dishonest intentions. I know you're a better person than that. Don't stoop to the level of Lust." To respond to that, he just nodded. Isis was right. He rarely liked to admit it, but she always knew what to do in situations like this. She didn't let emotions get to her; she only thought with a clear head. One way or another, though, this would all be resolved soon.
--exit--
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Posted: Tue Sep 24, 2013 11:34 am
"Raphael, Raphael," the girl tugged at his back, which only prompted for him to snuggle more closely into the bedsheets. "Wake up, you lazy old bum." She could hear him groaning, trying to get her to go away. Leave me alone. I'm sleeping, he didn't even bother to vocalize it. Hopefully she'd get the message. "Raphael, it involves Danielle. I think it's important that you pay attention." The Incubus sighed, and got up, bringing his head back against the pillow, staring at Isis as he anticipated her words. "I didn't get to talk to her. She got ambushed while she was on a mission, and there was no way I was gonna be able to take on those guys. I hoped maybe they'd kill her so we could get this all over with." But unfortunately, they didn't. This 'King of Nocturne' let her go free. "And you couldn't just pull her to the side and stab her while she was walking home?" He rolled his eyes. Why didn't Isis just get this over with?
"No, builder was with her. I have no idea how these machines work, so I'm not going to be bold around them." Of course, there was always that restriction on them. This machine revolution was going to ruin the structure of his office. His imperial regalia meant nothing against the view of cameras and insight of journalists. "I find these cameras and headsets disgusting. It's like they're constantly watching us, spying at us from inside our own homes. This technology is changing the way we can go about things. It's going to greatly restrict us in the future. The more people know about their leaders, the more flaws they see in them. The more they begin to mistrust them. That is why a leader must always be elusive, never revealing their true colors. But technology watches us, and reveals each shade to everyone who would receive this view." There was no way to remove the issue, either. It'd just continue to eat away at his influence.
"I've become Emperor at an unlucky time, where people expect kindness at all times by their rulers, and yet a strict hand at any whim. I remember the days when people would blindly follow their leader, no matter what sort of man they were. My "father" was like that. He was a horrible person, but they loved him." He fashioned Raphael into a ruler, but only out of love for his mother. His own relationship with the man was harsh, cruel, and unforgiving. He wanted to make Raphael into the perfect heir, and so he never really had a childhood in the first place. By then he was already cold, though. Jaded, because of his life in the brothel, with all of those heartless witches. He wished things could be different, but they weren't. Things always ended up exactly the same; when it came to it, someone else was always chosen over him. His sisters were loved over him, and his father chose his honor over Raphael's feelings. Isis, though... "You always think about me first. I'm glad to have someone as loyal as you by my side." He held her hands for a moment, then moved to his drawers, finding a decent pair of clothes to fit his imperial office. "You know I have nothing else in me but my loyalty in you. I will always assist the needs of my Emperor."
The man shrugged, slipping his underwear on, pulling an undershirt down from over his head. "Something's coming soon, Isis. I'm afraid that I can't allow myself to be the loser anymore, watching others steal my thunder. It's weak to say that we must act nobly in order to be happy. I've been acting noble my entire life, and I'm completely devoid of joy. I was supposed to be a beautiful visage, crafted into the perfect art by the finest details, but I've been crinkled up and thrown into the fire. Over and over. I think it's time that I just..." He smiled slightly, "Act as my conscience dictates." Oh boy, that meant a lot of bad things. "I'm a monster inside. A demon fueled by love and hate. By pleasure. By the feel of stealing life away. Whitewashing myself won't change my nature."
--exit--
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Posted: Tue Apr 08, 2014 1:15 pm
A universe within this universe. What did that mean? What was "hell", and what was Axiom? If the tales were true, then this world was created by Michael, who wished to shepherd a new form of life. He wanted for humans to grow, then eventually supernaturals, and create their own destiny. He wanted true freedom, which is often mistaken for the dream of Vaet Nocturnum. The demons, and those who follow them, say they want to be free. They want anarchy, and a wildness that couldn't be contained by any higher presence. Yet, despite this, they too have formed society. They take slaves, they form aristocracy, they rule over women and men. The angels, the demons, all of them -- they're quite confused on what they are. Only Michael knows, and only Kala knows. They know the truth. They know exactly what they want, and how they're going to achieve it. Those entities are, without a doubt, infallible. They cannot contradict themselves. Regardless of that fact however, they spoke nothing.
Their followers, millions in number, marched to their tune blindly. There was no real music to listen to, only a self-created harmony written by thousands of years of false prophets. Their angels spoke for them, but they had their own version of the story. The demons spoke lies, that some believed true.
There was no truth. There was no ancient text that could cipher the code. Even the gate of hell, something West sought after, would only speak lies if confronted. And yet the answers needed to be found, in order to advance further. Even as the city was besieged by scandal and prophecy, she would search for the way. This was, by some form of alternative, one of the only solutions to this mess. The agents could be fought by something far greater than Isis; an army of demons, fully loyal to Villiath, to Aramil, to West. She just needed to fulfill one strenuous requirement: meet with God Herself.
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Posted: Tue May 20, 2014 8:39 am
nu███████ XXX ███████ XXX ███████ XXX ███████
numineDO YOU HAVE ` WHAT IT TAKES ♕》*TO KILL A GOD?
bad apple
xxx
n×◞KILL ⊰THE ( DEMON ) *⇣OR HE'LL KILL ♕YOU FIRST !
by numinex for the food chain do not steal! c:LIKE HE DID DANIELLE LOL
"Vemsai, je sai, aklah plejos vanna ek sal dron," he told her. My flesh and blood burns.
It's not something I've experienced before.
Somehow, wandering the streets late into the evening, he began to feel this sensation. He did not know what, exactly, it was. It was something from within; something highly malevolent, something that wished to destroy him. He did not realize until now that he had such a creature living inside.
"It's Pride," said Isis. "He's woken up." West looked at her, his lips bound together, his eyebrows cocking as his curiosity grew. "Pride? I have a lot of that. I didn't realize that such a thing could be so lethal." He gripped his stomach, closed his eyes and tried to hold back a scream. It was painful, so painful. It felt like there was an abomination inside of him, trying to rip its way through. He did not know how to let it be free. He did not know if he wanted to; it felt, for this whole time, like an integral part of him. "It can be lethal if given energy, just like everything else, West. Pride is the creation of Narathos, and he is immensely powerful. He's one of the strongest creatures in the world. And he lives inside of you. He wants to be free." She knew this day would come eventually. West, despite being a demon for months, had still not gotten used to his new body. It was obviously a strange transition to expel an entire half of your soul, and then corrupt the other half and turn yourself into a demon. Then, doing this with Pride inside of him only made the change much more strict on him. He had never felt so weakened. He just wondered why this thing waited until now to awaken.
"What would happen if I freed him?" he asked, his voice strained. "It feels like I can't do that. I don't know why, but something is telling me that I shouldn't." He could feel the second soul beating inside of him, alongside his demon's soul. They sung in unison, empowering him, giving life to his vessel. The second soul was as much a part of him as the first. He could not let it leave, or he would not be the same. "It's because Pride is what you are. Lukhan made you to be both a demon and a sin, to contain both identities inside of you. You cannot allow your second half to leave you." She gripped his wrist, and squeezed tightly. He grimaced, his eyes shut. Then, he took a moment to look at her again. "You know," he started, "I think it makes more sense than I realized, at first. Lukhan is both pleasure and pain. It's the same balance as mine; always feeling the extreme of both, whether physical, spiritual or mental. I've thought for such a long time that I need to free my people from their trappings, but perhaps it's what Lukhan wanted. He wanted us to be as he was, mirror his image to its exact. We are his through illness and health, poverty and wealth. We're his," he repeated.
"And this pain is a gift." He shooed Isis away, the woman bowing respectfully and leaving his presence. Then, he reeled back onto his bed and allowed for the pain to overcome him. He didn't fight it, letting it live within his skin as a mark of his God's love.
That same night, as he lay on his silk Emperor's bed, stark nude and sprawled across the sheets, he heard a whisper for the first time since his rebirth. It was the same subtle voice that spoke to him during that flash of light, one that painted his mind with a million possibilities, a million joys, a million causes to fight for. He had desperately wanted to hear it again, and it came, just as he dreamed. West had become a demon, just as he dreamed, and had become more powerful than everything else around him, like he dreamed. He knew that there was something that brought him to this precipice. He knew it was Lukhan.
"West," the voice whispered. "Look for me." It commanded. With just those words, he quickly rose from the bed and looked around the room. When he scanned it initially, he couldn't see anything. Couldn't find what he was looking for. But as his eyes crossed from one end of the room to the other -- from his closet to his rather unnecessary chamberpot, he saw it. It was as if the sky bled and the world beneath froze, for just a moment. His heart stopped, and his eyes went blurry. He could barely see it, but he could see it. Lukhan, or rather just his shadow. It crept on the floor, moving closer to him. He laid back, and stared at the ceiling. As seconds went by, it changed from being just a shadow to something greater. He took physical form, slowly crawled onto the bed. He was a large figure, even larger than West. He was perfect, in every way shape and form. And he smiled at his soldier, his faithful. He embraced him for just a moment, but long enough to steal the young demon's thought, his breath away. And after a brief period of time, he disappeared once more.
For the next few hours, West did not move, speak or think. He could not see or hear, only feel. He could feel the greatest elation there ever was, one that washed away the pain. He could feel that for once in his life, his hard, his painful and arduous life, he was truly content. Lukhan, he spoke in his mind. Thank you.
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Posted: Thu May 22, 2014 5:16 am
nu███████ XXX ███████ XXX ███████ XXX ███████
numineDO YOU HAVE ` WHAT IT TAKES ♕》*TO KILL A GOD?
bad apple
xxx
n×◞KILL ⊰THE ( DEMON ) *⇣OR HE'LL KILL ♕YOU FIRST !
by numinex for the food chain do not steal! c:LIKE HE DID DANIELLE LOL
"Make way for the Emperor!" Isis commanded, quickly causing a great split and opening the velvet carpet for his steps. The throne room was full of sycophants and other nosy aristocrats today, though not surprisingly. Aramil was run rather smoothly by Maria and Isis while West was gone, but some people refused to answer to one of them. They wanted the word of the Emperor himself, and this was his first day returning to session. While some leaders in nations like Nocturne and Yuran preferred to leave social matters fully to their council, Fraxonite nations were different. Social issues were the focus of the King, and while West wasn't exactly a King, he still certainly had to act like one. With that in mind, he did not look behind or beside him, he only looked forward until he seated himself onto the throne. "The court of His Highness, Emperor West I of House Giletti, ruler of the Kingdom of Kevai, the Kingdom of Aramil, rightful heir to the throne of Fronta, and Sage of Axiom will now begin reception." He was adorned with the usual attire, a very formal outfit that consisted of armored plating covering his right shoulder and some of his arm, and a silk top that was covered in his coat of arms as well as the emblem of Aramil. His lower wear was fairly simple, not fancy and baggy like most of the kings of his culture. His hair was well done, though not as formal as Gaston's, surely. West was always more content to be attractive than proper, a trait that his vassals didn't tend to mind.
The first man came up, bowing respectfully then walking towards him. It was very obviously an Incubus, which brought a smile to the Emperor's face. He enjoyed seeing ambitious Incubi and ones coming to power, and in this new environment where they were okay to be more open about their identities, this was quickly becoming the case. There were large political factions dominated by Incubi, and most of them revered West as their father and mentor. "Your Highness," he said, bowing once again. He seemed fairly nervous, but he kept his composure for the most part. West nodded his head, gesturing that he was okay to speak. "I've come because I need to spread awareness about a very important issue, and I would like to request the crown's full assistance in dealing with this matter." He stood up straight, and walked to the next level of the steps, now standing only some height below West. "There has risen a large, militant organization within the ranks of humans in this city that is openly cooperating with the religious inquisitors of Fronta. They have declared that they support the idea of a military move against the 'heretics of Aramil', which in reality means war between Fronta and us, and are essentially taking matters into their own hands." It was gloomy news, but nothing good ever came to his attention, so that was expected. People did not ask for the authority of the crown to plant roses and sing songs. Unless of course it was the bureau of public services. They were fans of dancing, singing and pretty things. He preferred them.
"They have used harsh wording against you as well, Emperor. They have called you a b*****d demon, a liar, a heretic. They openly denounce your rule of the Empire and call for Gaston to claim the throne." In response to this, West raised his eyebrow, and crossed his arms. Finally, he would speak. "Do they forget that only a few hundred years ago, their ancestors fought to declare independence from Fronta? Now they would like to be absorbed by it once again?" He shook his head. "In their eyes, you being their Emperor is like Nocturne ruling over them. When faced with the choice of two extremes, they say, they choose Fronta." The man finished speaking, once again awaiting some words from the Emperor. He was respectful, but fairly blunt. He spoke like an adviser rather than a courtier, which was inappropriate, but equally useful for the sake of bluntness. They could not sheath their words in such troubled times.
"Perhaps you could inform them that they are welcome to sail over to Fronta, if that is how they feel. If that scares them too much, they can use the teleporter. Regardless, I'd like to remind them that violence is not the way to solve disagreements in this nation. Contrary to what they think of me, I do not have the heart of a Luimirian King. I do not support insurrection against the crown, but I would prefer not to take it to open combat. Tell them that they are free to come to me themselves if they wish to press their point. I would be glad to host them." He smiled, and the Incubus nodded. "If they do not agree to remain peaceful, or to leave Aramil, or to come see me... if they reject all three of these terms, then you will have the support of the crown. Whatever that may entail." He waved him off, and so the Incubus left the court with his answer. West beckoned for the next speaker to rise.
And, surprisingly, it was Maria who came to speak. She could do it in private as his councilor, but she decided to speak in front of the court. As she walked in front of him and knelt, he curiously questioned her with his eyes. "Your Highness," she started, coming to stand. "I too wish to raise awareness of something exceptionally important. It is about your younger brother, Gaston." She sighed. "With... the aid of the rebels, he seeks to press his claim on Aramil. He has openly sent us a declaration of war, which we received last night. We have seven days to acknowledge this before he will begin attacking the mainland." She frowned. Everyone in the court, who generally seemed to remain still and quiet, began to loudly discuss and react to this revelation. Many of them were humans, Vangelists too. He wondered how they were feeling, and whether their sympathies lay in their liege or his foreign brother. Gaston was not immortal and he wasn't as intelligent as West, but he openly had the support of angels.
How could West possibly convince the Vangelists in the city to take his side?
He closed his eyes briefly, and shook his head once more. "It is unfortunate that Kirin and Jasper so rudely damaged our relations with Yuran and Nocturne. They would be useful allies in this conflict." He exhaled slowly, everyone in the throne room watching eagerly. At this point, he rose from his chair. "I'm sure you all understand who I am fairly well. You understand that I am a demon and I worship demons. You understand, also, that I care for Aramil and its people. Gaston does not. Gaston will use our land to strengthen Fronta alone, milk our Kingdoms for their resources, sack the city and slaughter non-Vangelists and non-humans. Do not allow yourself to be swayed to his side. He is not your Emperor, and he doesn't want to be your Emperor. He only wants to be the Emperor, and that is all. He wants to be the Emperor of the world, command everything. He will abuse the conviction of Elessia and Solaris to any degree to reach that point. He is no true Vangelist, and in truth he is the one with the heart of a Luimirian warlord." He stared down at the crowd, and they stared back. He could see loyalty in many of them, confusion in many more. This was very unfortunate news indeed.
"We will react to this declaration. Court, for the day, will be dismissed. Tomorrow morning I will see the rest of the people who wanted to speak. May whichever God you believe in guide you." He then walked rather quickly to the west wing, Isis and Maria ensuring that they followed closely behind.
What followed was a long discussion of the specifics of this war. Things like - "Fronta has eight thousand ships, eight hundred thousand soldiers, generally gunmen and other heavily armed troops. They have three thousand Nephilim and six thousand clerics, a holy order to be deployed at the King's leisure," were thrown around. And then - "Aramil has no ships because of the threat of the Mer. The people of Fronta cannot avoid this issue either, and so I doubt they will ferry their soldiers to Aramil. They will probably use their aerial fleet, which we do not know the size of. Aramil has seven hundred thousand soldiers, about as advanced and well armed as Fronta's. We can attempt to use the teleporter to invade their homeland, but odds are we would be throwing our army away if we did. We have a higher supernatural population and so we have more diversity on the field, which will be essential to victory. We also have you. Your abilities are not well known, as you do not fight often. No Name or Pride's abilities might be able to completely destroy their frontline. It really depends -- they will probably have very high-ranked barriers covering them from all sides, thus the six thousand clerics. It will be incredibly tough to deal with their forces. They are a lot more prepared than we are."
To be truthful, all he wanted was for the talking to end. He was going to be the best he could in the years to follow, but right now it was not Isis he wanted to hear, or Maria. It was Lukhan, the only one who he knew could save his city from this despair. It wasn't Fronta's invading forces that would destroy him, it was his own people. After the titan turtle killed so many hundreds of thousands of them, they lost a great deal of faith. Then, his conversion to Vaet Nocturnum severely damaged his connection to the Vangelists within his nation. To make it worse, he became a fully-fledged demon. To make it even worse than that, he left for a long time to pursue his own destiny. While the dukes of Aramil loved him, many of his own people did not. He would have to reacquire their hearts, and he did not know how to go about that anymore. It would be something prophetic -- no simple intellect could do what needed to be done.
"There is a way," a voice told him. It was not like Lukhan's, it was different. Another demon maybe, or his mind lying to him. "You can save Aramil. There is a way." It spoke again, the sound sending chills down his spine. He lay against his bed like last night, and yet again there was a demon infesting his thoughts. "I am the gate of hell," the voice told him. He immediately tensed up, aware of what those words meant. "I have not spoken in nearly a thousand years, but like with Kaminae, I speak to you. I offer you an ultimatum, a choice between salvation and destruction." Before he knew it, West was thrown into a whole new world. It was hell, a place where only he of all men could go. Because he was not a man anymore, he was a demon.
The "gate" stood before him, a rotten old figure. He could feel its power, though -- it was . . . infinite. It was blinding, deafening, maddening. "You can save Aramil. There is a way." He repeated. "Change what is secular to what is not. Declare it a state of Vaet Nocturnum, like Nocturne. Allow demons to roam through the land. If you do this, then you will find an unlikely ally willing to do your work." He grinned, and it was odd, just generally bizarre. Then, out of the shadows, a girl with auburn hair and blue eyes... the energy and the body of a Mer came to him. It was Kaminae, in a regular form, not one twisted by demonic energy. She looked at him with a fire in his eyes, as if she was ready, and intent. "My name is Kaminae," she said. "I am the Empress of Los Anthos. I am an enemy of Aramil, but I do not have to be. If you open your doors to Kala, then your nation will be saved, and Los Anthos will join your cause." She offered him her hand. He looked to the "gate", then back to her, and stared blankly. He did not know what choice to make. He would be declaring eighty percent of his population as enemies, essentially. They would have to convert to his faith, accept Kaminae as their new ally, abandon generations of Aramilian history... they would become Kala's bitches, like the people of Nocturne. He could not make that choice so easily.
He did not take her hand. He stepped to the waystone, and returned to his room, his dreams. The gate acknowledged that he was not yet sure, and so he let him go. West could remember a feeling of extreme confusion; he wanted so dearly to make it so, but he would betray his nation to save his nation. He could not simply decide that in an instant.
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Posted: Thu May 22, 2014 7:29 am
nu███████ XXX ███████ XXX ███████ XXX ███████
numineDO YOU HAVE ` WHAT IT TAKES ♕》*TO KILL A GOD?
bad apple
xxx
n×◞KILL ⊰THE ( DEMON ) *⇣OR HE'LL KILL ♕YOU FIRST !
by numinex for the food chain do not steal! c:LIKE HE DID DANIELLE LOL
"A demon came to me last night, Isis," the man said, slouching against his elegant dining chair. He and Isis were having breakfast together -- neither of them required it, but it was a nice feeling to gulf some life down their throats. Isis set her fork down, and eyed West quietly. "Like Lukhan, but stronger. Much stronger." In his eyes, Lukhan was infinite. He was a hundred times the man that West was, he was a monster that could destroy a nation in less than the time it took West to meet climax. But this creature, he was beyond Lukhan by so much. The gap was just so incredibly large. It scared the young demon greatly, what his purposes might be. But at the same time... "It was invigorating. It felt like Kala was watching me, trying to assist me. He called himself the gate of hell. And there was more." He looked down, and frowned. His eyes, his expression, until now they'd been stoic. But he was very bothered by the events that would soon eclipse his nation. "He had Kaminae with him. I always suspected that she was a demon, and I've confirmed it now. She told me that she would be my ally rather than my enemy. He told me that he would save Aramil. On a condition." To that, Isis finally replied. "And what condition is that?" She asked.
He sighed. "Remove our secular foundation. Change Aramil's state religion to Vaet Nocturnum. I suspect that Kaminae might even finally inform her people that she's a demon, and Los Anthos would convert to demon-worship as well. That would remove the problem of the Komonists revolting, but it would still mean that over sixty-percent of our population would be outside of our state religion." He sort of rambled off into conclusions and presumptions, which made it fairly obvious that he'd thought a lot about this beforehand. He was a demon, just like the gate. And while the gate was surely a lot more powerful than West, he knew that he'd be able to spot what he was planning. In fact, he knew just what this was all along. He understood now -- in the span of what must've been a few hours -- what he'd wondered for his whole life.
"Isis, I think this is all a plan. I think, I think - my life has been planned out for me. I think that my father knew that my mother was the mistress of the King, and he knew I'd be put on the throne. Even Fenrir might have been planned, forced to be the way he was. Perhaps even Gaston declaring war on me was planned. It's all meant to convert Aramil to the faith of demons. It's all so that Vangelism can be pushed back beyond the sea." He was very disturbed by the thought of it, but he couldn't help but see the evidence, the mastermind scheming. It must have been true. "But then, why didn't the angels kill me when I was a child? It should've been so obvious to them. Did they misjudge their ability to contain this situation?" If not for West, Aramil would have been strictly Vangelist for hundreds of years. They should've foreseen that. Michael should've known. So why didn't they? Or if they did, why didn't they act?
"It's because there's another force, West," she said. "Lust told me this when I was very young: deep beyond the politics of the angels and the demons, there is another faction more intelligent than them both. Its leader destroyed Kuladhan, and corrupted Judie. He has been foiling the plans of the angels and demons for generations. He's Narathos, don't you remember him?" She clasped her hands together, and looked at the ceiling. "Narathos wants anarchy, it has been proven by history. If he is actually the mastermind behind this circumstance, then he wants you to make one of these two choices. One of them will certainly bring about anarchy. Whether it is the anarchy of a war-torn Aramil, one beaten to a pulp by the fascist Fraxons, or one revolting for religious freedoms... I'm not sure. But one of the two choices is worse than the other." That was her theory, one that to her made the only sense. There was a schemer behind this, she was certain. The angels were made unaware. The demons could not hide this plot from them. So there was a third party. It could only be Narathos.
But that was only if West's upbringing was indeed a plot. No one even knew that. It was silly to simply make assumptions. "So I must make a third choice, one of my own volition. One that will not bring about the great chaos that Narathos wants." He stared at his table, the stew he'd stuffed his spoon into reflecting the pondering expression on his face. "I choose..." he smiled, his eyes rising, his face rising. "Michael." In response, Isis's expression froze. She was astounded by what she'd just heard. By West's wager. "I will use Gaston's own allies against him. I will silence the wild voices within my city. The Vangelists will be satiated, and the Incubus, who all align to me, will make their choice. Solaris and Elessia will tell Gaston to back off. He wouldn't do to waste so many resources attacking a Vangelist-controlled city." He beckoned for the serving girls to come, and clear the table of food. "Isis, hand me a quill and pen. A sheet would be nice as well." The councilor curtsied, and replied, "Yes, Your Highness," before stepping away. He was being pulled in many different directions. He could only hope to have made the right choice.
"I'm sorry, my father," he spoke to himself. With this, he was renouncing Lukhan. He was leaving his heritage, his quest behind. "But I will choose my people first."
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Posted: Thu May 22, 2014 6:36 pm
 Favnir
Class: Berserker | Bloodline: Draconian | Rank: Novice | Str/Spd: 12/8 | Nation: Rogue | Energy: 550/550 | Clothes: Casual Clothes and Boots of NarathosFavnir walked into the palace looking about. He looked to West he walked up to the man "Are you the Sovereign of Aramil?" he asked his. He took note of the human like woman near him. -Learned: -Used: Iron Form [1/10] -Equipment: Iron Tonfa THEME:
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Posted: Thu May 22, 2014 9:16 pm
nu███████ XXX ███████ XXX ███████ XXX ███████
numineDO YOU HAVE ` WHAT IT TAKES ♕》*TO KILL A GOD?
bad apple
xxx
n×◞KILL ⊰THE ( DEMON ) *⇣OR HE'LL KILL ♕YOU FIRST !
by numinex for the food chain do not steal! c:LIKE HE DID DANIELLE LOL
"What am I, God?" He stared once again at the velvet colored ceiling, his eyes narrow, almost shut. The bed was stained white, the silken sheets covered him from abdomen-down. "What have I not given away for the sake of my people? I have given away my love for Jasper, my fondness of the dark and the demons. I've given away my identity as Raphael, so that I could be stronger and more convicted. I've given away Lukhan, who gave me life . . . " He frowned. That was the one thing that was the most troublesome for him -- his betrayal of his father. He was not selfish enough to let his nation bleed so that he could be closer to that demon. It was so incredibly tempting, and so difficult to look back on, but he made the choice he knew was right. He just . . . didn't know if it was right for him. If there was one thing that was an Emperor's prerogative, it was that they could damn well sit and wail the more they surrendered themselves for the sake of their nation. He sighed, and stretched his arms and legs out, before reeling them back in. After quietly staring for a short while longer, he turned on his side to try and get some sleep. He'd be doing a lot of that, whenever his daily tasks were done.
When he turned over though, he was lost in a stream of thought. He could feel his mind being pulled away to some far-off land where it was free to imagine whatever it wanted, latching on to other minds and energies and seeing what they too had in store. He often did this, as an Incubus he haunted people's minds and stole their dreams away for his own entertainment. But, he noticed that there was something peculiar in this stream of energy. There was one really large energy that seemed to be drawing close to him, one that wanted to latch on to him instead. He tried to recede, opening his eyes again and escaping the unfortunate possibilities that came with being haunted by... whatever that was.
But, he felt something wrap around him. It was something soft like cotton pressing up against his back, and an arm reaching over across his waistline. It was a person, a man, had to be. But he didn't sense it, didn't hear it or feel it until just now. He turned around to see a face, one that wasn't familiar. He had brown, styled hair and blue eyes like the morning sky. He smiled at West, who only reeled back at his sight. He could feel his energy, immensely powerful, like Lukhan's. Like the gate of hell. But he was neither. "I figured you required more zeal to summon," He said sarcastically. It seemed like he was Judie for a moment, all of these Gods visiting him in the night. But he could understand why that was. He was the leader of one of the most powerful nations in the world, one in great religious strife. One surrounded by enemies, one that was vulnerable to be flipped to either side. He supposed that this creature -- surely an angel -- was here to secure Michael's position on the nation. That was fine, though, he'd already made his choice.
He could go for it.
"Summon? Zeal? You've been reading too much fantasy." The man said. His voice was different than the demons in hell -- it was bright, it had life in it. It was comforting, it made him have hope for what this creature had in store. "I'm a completely ordinary guy, by my own standards. You could be a fascist seal clubber with the piety of a pubic hair and I'd still see you the same way I see anyone else. As a person." He kept his arms wrapped around West, as if he were really into cuddling or something. Or maybe he just wanted to keep him from running off. No idea, but whatever. Aware that he really had no say here, he simply relaxed himself, and closed his eyes. "I'm not a person," he said. "I'm a demon." It was true by his accounts. No one considered him to be anything more than a witch from hell. Some admired him, because that was what they aspired to be. But people did not respect demons, or account for the personhood of demons.
Not that he minded. He wasn't particularly sensitive, in fact he was naturally inclined to be amoral because of what he was. But he doubted that an angel of all creatures could respect his heritage. This was wasted breath, wasn't it? "Demons are people too, just... usually very twisted. Most supernaturals are humans twisted by Kala's energy. You'd be surprised by how many of them are actually demonic. Djinn, for example? Yeah, they share the same daddy as you. Lukhan. They breed like maggots too, and the demons are already trying to proselytize them to Vaet Nocturnum. It's all a part of the master plan -- to remove Vangelism from the world." He grasped the demon more tightly, came closer and spoke more softly. Sort of as if he were telling some camping trip secret that he didn't want others to hear. Not that they could anyway. "You were right about what you said to Isis. All of this was a scheme to spread Vaet Nocturnum to Aramil. A scheme by Lukhan. The visit from his son, to top it off, was especially well designed. But see, we were aware. There was no third party. We wanted you to come to this point. Make the third decision." He grinned.
West wasn't surprised, to be quite honest. At the end of the day, Lukhan was a slave of Kala. It was no surprise that he schemed in such a manner. But it seemed like the angels did too, and they were a step ahead of him. So many steps ahead. "See, demons are stupid, just like people. Even one of their strongest did not possibly imagine that you might choose Vangelism. He believed that you were too madly in love with him to do anything but surrender yourself." He stopped for a moment, and let go of the desire demon. He laid his back against the mattress, and closed his eyes. "He should've remembered what he taught me, then. Love is a lie. There is only desire. By exploiting the desires of others, I'll come out on top. Not even a demon is free of this truth." West opened his eyes, and turned back over so he could see the angel. He sat up against the frame that stood over his bed, and locked his fingers together.
"He was wrong," the angel said. "Love is not a lie unless you want it to be. People choose darkness over light, time and time again. They choose desire over love. War over peace. It does not mean that peace is a lie, or that love is a lie, or that light is a lie. It only means that they are harder to obtain." He too sat up, and placed a hand on West's shoulder. He seemed sort of touchy-feely, not surprising of an angel. Then again, a demon would probably be giving this speech while wanking his willy, so he supposed they were certainly more conservative. "You'll forgive me if I'm less than eager to change my way of thinking so easily." He turned his head, and grimaced. The angel smiled quite excitedly, laughed a little too. "Your way of thinking can be whatever you want. Michael will still love you." He shook his head, and West cocked his head back curiously. Is this guy serious?
"It's not reciprocated," he said, crudely. The angel responded back, "For some unforeseen reason." In reality though, they were both somewhat astounded by their mutual ability to coexist without raising a hand. Angels and demons were not naturally enemies, not naturally drawn to destroy one another. They were ideologically enemies, with one side milked and used by Kala and another loyally serving Michael. When even one of them left either of those sides, they could coexist. Antony knew this, he had experienced this. That was why he chose to come here. "You used to be a Vangelist, remember? You prayed to Michael all the time, every morning, afternoon and night. You prayed for him to help you discover what you are, and you prayed that you might not be so evil. Isn't it funny how much has changed since then? You've become a demon when you were once a little boy. You've set your sights on the devil rather than God. And why? For the search of your identity? I'll tell you your identity."
The brown-haired man placed a fingertip against West's forehead. He begun to send energy into him, a magnetic wave of power that could not be compared to much of anything. "You're who you choose to be, West. You were always who you chose to be. Whether Raphael Giletti or West, whether Vangelist or Vaet Nocturnum, incubus or desire demon... you always made a choice. Now, you're the Emperor who chose his people over his own happiness. Love is not a lie, bravery is not a lie. You embody both, you choose to. You didn't need zeal to bring me here, only the ability to sacrifice for the common good." He wrapped his arms around the demon, embracing him. "I will always be there for you when you need me. And I will always remember the choice you made, in the midst of darkness and hidden enemies." West could feel the mark begin to rise from his flesh, a strange itching feeling that quickly changed into a relief. He felt the wind knocked out of him.
He closed his eyes, they stung. When they opened again, Antony was gone. But not really gone. His mark remained. And West... had no idea what that meant.
- - -
The next day, he sat in his throne room after sharing a very long explanation of last night with his council. The people of the city quickly became informed of what had happened, and many flocked to see the mark themselves. When the court "adjourned" for the day, an energy he recognized came closer to the throne. He asked, rather obnoxiously, if he was the sovereign of Aramil. "I'm wearing the Emperor's attire, I look like the Emperor, I was just sitting on the Emperor's throne... fairly obvious that I'm the sovereign, isn't it?" He raised an eyebrow. This guy possibly escaped an ancient labyrinth across the world if he couldn't recognize West.
(Mark of Antony acquired)
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Posted: Thu May 22, 2014 9:50 pm
Favnir
Class: Berserker | Bloodline: Draconian | Rank: Novice | Str/Spd: 12/8 | Nation: Rogue | Energy: 550/550 | Clothes: Casual Clothes and Boots of NarathosFavnir shrugged at West "any shmuk can dress fancy and act badass sitting on a possibly vacant throne" he said to him. He put his hands in his pockets casually. His tail thumped on the ground he needed to find work, seemed Aramil was his only choice since none of the other Nations needed a mercenary. -Learned: -Used: Iron Form [2/10] -Equipment: Iron Tonfa THEME:
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Posted: Fri May 23, 2014 12:33 am
Akeem had been away for quite some time dealing with the inquistors that came from Fronta. War crimes were rampant throughout Aramil and West did not take that lightly. As the captian of the guard he had been sent away to deal with the nuisance. It took him some time but Akeem had settled the problem. He had made a brief stop at his barracks to clean himself off and get a change of clothes. But he wanted to visit his Demon King West in order to give his report. So he decided to wear fancier attire, at least for a Djinn. He wore a gold lined, velvet black vest, open across the chest and sleevless. His pants were silky smooth and very white. The shoes he had on were fancy as well, not his normal combat attire. Akeem had let his hair do what it wanted, which was usually good looking anyway. His appearance was important to him because a Djinn's body was their greatest tool. With just a glance people would notice how very much in shape Akeem was. This Djinn cared for his body in every way; he worked out, ate properly, and even avoid substances that can have a longterm bad affect on his body. Akeem never drank nor did he ever smoke.
Entering the palace of the Emperor made Akeem stop and stare for a moment. Men could be so vain in their architecture. Only gods should be this large. The captain thought to himself as he had to nearly bend over backwards just to see the top of this structure. It was a symbol of their vanity and status, that much he knew. Akeem did not crave things like this. He had even chosen to forgo a home in order to sleep in the barracks with the other men. That was how the Djinn grew up and Akeem felt closer to some semblance of home in that manner. He did not need material possessions and trinkets. There was no yearning for decorations or humanly comforts. Akeem lived for his army, and for the hopes that one day he could produce a child.
As Akeem entered the palace and made his way through the giant halls he had a lot of time to think. He was in no rush at all and moved slowly throughout the area. The Djinn were cursed with a terrible happening. The mother's of their children would not live, no matter what. His father had told him this when he was a younger man, before he had sought a legacy. The Makal family had once been proud and large, boasting a number of talented warriors. One by one they dropped dead from different causes, mostly battle related. Akeem was the last Makal and came to a very mortal feeling. He wanted to pass something on after he was gone, something more than just his tallied fights and defeated beings. He wanted children. With the knowledge of certain death in mind Akeem pursued a beautiful woman. The the memory of her face still burned brightly in his mind, even after the one hundred years he had slumbered. Her tanned skin was the smoothest he had ever felt, her lips the most supple. The feeling of her in his arms was more glorious than the feeling he got on the battlefield after a victory. When her belly had swollen Akeem's pride sky rocketed.
His face now was stoic as he passed under great woven tapestries and over soft plush rugs, but the deeds weighed heavily on his mind. Everyday during his wife's pregnancy he knew what would happen, but he did not tell her. He kept his dark secret to himself in hopes of coveting his children. Akeem knew he would have to raise them himself and there was nothing that could bring him a greater joy. When the day had finally arrived for his wife to give birth it was horrendous. The anguish and guilt he felt outweighed his selfishness and he broke down, telling his wife the truth. Gaunt eyes stared back at him devoid of love. There was only hatred then, pure hatred. The woman cursed him in every way she could, and even cursed their children. There was so much blood for Djinn babies were large and numerous. As always, the woman perished. Akeem was alone with seven babies know, a deep fear struck into him. His wife had cursed their children to die, to never grow old and have their old families. Akeem could not bare the thought and sheltered his children as best he could. But no matter what he did he could not stop them from dying. Just as his brothers and fathers perished, his own progeny passed one by one. When there was no one left but Akeem, he slept. He slept for so many years in hopes of dying, but that woman's curse kept him alive.
And now Akeem dedicated himself to his nation and his army. He let those toxic thoughts fade from mind as he finally came to the Sultan's throne room. He happened to make it just in time to see some stranger bad mouth his liege. Akeem placed his hand roughly on Favnir's shoulder and gripped it tightly. He leaned in close and whispered in a low voice. "Watch your tongue when speaking to the Overlord, or find yourself without one." The threat was not empty. Akeem would see to that. He released the novice and pushed past him, letting his gaze turn to West. Akeem knelt down on one knee and lowered his head for a moment before rising. "My Lord, I have returned from my mission." He stated obviously, pausing a moment before continuing. "I have dealt with the inquisitors, they shall not be a problem again." It was clear in his voice that he had put an end not only to the foreign inquisitors' antics, but their lives as well.
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Posted: Fri May 23, 2014 1:19 am
nu███████ XXX ███████ XXX ███████ XXX ███████
numineDO YOU HAVE ` WHAT IT TAKES ♕》*TO KILL A GOD?
bad apple
xxx
n×◞KILL ⊰THE ( DEMON ) *⇣OR HE'LL KILL ♕YOU FIRST !
by numinex for the food chain do not steal! c:LIKE HE DID DANIELLE LOL
The Emperor stared blankly at the obviously brainless and arrogant individual before him. He had rarely met people who were self-absorbed enough to enter a throne room and start ranting their gospel, but when he did meet people like this, his response was always the same. "Isis, hand me your sword," West commanded his councilor. She bowed and did as he pleased, and he gripped the handle of the blade firmly. He slowly walked down the velvet silk steps that separated the throne from the commons below, and when he was ultimately close to Favnir, he raised his blade. He noticed that Akeem had whispered something to him, and from what he could hear it was certainly not a pardon of his actions. West looked at him and the eyes and said, "It would be unfortunate for you if I were just some schmuck posing as the Emperor. The Emperor has to worry about the safety and the will of his people whereas a fraud does as he likes. A fraud would be willing to cut your presumptuous head off, at the moment." He pointed the blade downwards, and relaxed his stance. "Vakk antha. Get out of here."
Isis stepped down the stairs, and caught her blade as West threw it back at her. She viciously eyed Favnir, and pointed for him to leave. She quickly raised her blade once again, pointing it at his neck. Disrespect was not tolerated and would never be tolerated in the court of Aramil. Even the lowest noble lord could demand a man's head for such words. To call an Emperor a "schmuck" was, in Aramilian society, a very crude offense.
West erased the draconian's issues from his mind, and stepped over to directly face Akeem. He gazed at him forebodingly for a moment, then brought his hands up to his jacket and buttoned it together thrice from bottom-to-top. "Try to be a little more formal, Commander. We're not Luimirians, unfortunately. All of the pale-haired nobles prefer to see their leadership in all of this silken lace crap, not open jackets." He sort of understood why, being South Fraxon by birth himself. The wealth of a leader could be envisioned in many ways, and supported by many factors; statuesque features, body type, rich and luxurious outfits, voice and posture. West was naturally born with a talent in a few of these, and he had been taught to master the rest. As far as he was concerned, Akeem was a leader now, and so he was expected to dress like one. At least in the throne room. Outside of it, he could mix being a trucker, a hillbilly and a male stripper. It wouldn't make a difference.
"Good job on that mission by the way. Sadly I sent you on a failure of an errand, as we've been forced to accept their demands. The group I sent you to clear was one of many, and they were rapidly increasing in number. The fact that Fronta then decided to declare war on us wasn't exactly helpful to the situation." He still seemed beat up about it, but also fairly casual. He'd had a few days to think about the implications, and last night he was fully brought to the reality that it was probably for the best. With Antony taking a special interest in him and his nation, they also had angelic protection, like Fronta. The fact that Antony marked him was also of paramount importance to strengthening the declaration of Vangelism as the state religion; it proved he didn't convert out of fear, but out of "devotion" to Michael. "Sorry, I probably sound gloomy. I'm not though, I'm actually trying to tell you this in a relaxed way that just isn't coming out properly. Do you want a cup of tea? Or something? It can be horse semen for all I care. I'd like to have breakfast with someone that isn't Isis or Maria for once."
West was definitely in a very strange mood. He seemed almost passive-aggressive, and very straightforward. He was usually a talkative individual, but he preferred to speak to others about others, rather than himself and his affairs. Lately he'd been pondering so much that he had miles of knowledge stuck in his head that needed to be spoken, to anyone and anything. He felt constrained by his current situation, and he once again felt a foreigner in his own body, despite believing that being a demon would cure this issue. It did for a while, but it was obvious that it wasn't just the issue of there being part Lust in him, but part sin in general. He felt drained, all the time, by the presence of Pride. It was beginning to reflect on his face, his posture; he seemed so tired all the time, because he was. He'd become hungry and bored and had somehow entirely perished the thought of having a personal life of his own.
It was perhaps also being Emperor that made him this way. Or, he just didn't know. It was unseen. And certainly it wouldn't be discovered by sitting idly on the throne.
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Posted: Fri May 23, 2014 1:56 am
Akeem watched the Emperor himself take a step down from his high throne to mingle with the plebians. How he threatened the stranger brought Akeem a queer sense of happiness. He turned his eyes momentarily to the woman ever present at West's side, Isis. Akeem held women up to a very high level, even if they did not care for such mannerisms he would give them it. So this Djinn bowed his head respectfully before looking back at West. With that settled Akeem felt no need to even address Favnir, let alone look at him. The matter of Akeem's attire made him fairly uncomfortable. If he hadn't already been pink West would probably notice a shade of red cross his face. These clothes were the fanciest Akeem had. He stood perfectly still as West's fingers danced up his chest and made short work of his buttons. The poor man had to resist the urge to fidget and pull at his jacket. It was not meant to be closed and frankly his body frame was not meant to be put into a jacket. Even through the cloth you could see Akeem's rippling muscles with each motion he made. "This is my most formal attire. I shall be sure to dress appropriately, next time." Akeem said meekly, dreading the inevitable trip to the market. He would probably even have to get a few outfits tailored, and that meant standing still for a few hours or so. That was definitely not something Akeem ever wanted to do. When West had been busy learning how to dress like a fine gentleman and taking in all the court mannerisms, Akeem was busy learning just how to crush a man's skull with any part of his body. He made little time for noble antics, but now that he held a title it was becoming a necessity.
Akeem frowned when West told him his mission had been in vain. He did not enjoy meaningless killing, there was no glory or honor in that. What was even more upsetting was the implications of what his lord told him. Aramil had always been secular, but now they had a religion. And that religion was Vangelism. Akeem furrowed his brows as he tried to justify this in his head. How could he fight for a nation if its religion denoted him a monster deserving death? Another unsettling matter was how easily West was handling this. Akeem would figure with the declaration of war and the seemingly forceful conversion the Demon King would be furious. Yet he was complacent, eerily accepting of the entire ordeal. Akeem knew it was not his palce to question the decisions of his leader but this news set him on edge.
The offer of tea caught Akeem off guard. Horse semen definitely was not something Akeem would drink though he did understand West was not being serious. Hopefully. "It would be my honor, my King. Tea would be fine." Akeem hadn't had breakfast yet at all. The ever dutiful Djinn had rushed over almost immediately after completing the task set to him. He said before shifting uncomfortably. There was clearly something on his mind that he wanted to discuss. It seemed that both of these beings had a lot they wanted to throw out there, though of course Akeem would put whatever West wished to discuss above his own matters if that was what the King wanted. "Forgive me, but there is something I do not know how to reconcile. May I speak freely?" A sagely from West let Akeem he was given permission. "I do not follow your gods. In fact I am on the other side of this godly war. How am I to fight for your Michael when it is Kala and her ilk who give me strength?" The inner turmoil was clear on Akeem's face. He was fiercely loyal to Aramil and had sworn to fight for West until the last breath left his lungs, but he also had a duty to his gods. Would Kala's agents see fit to smite him for a betrayal of this kind? Family, Duty, and Piety were of the utmost importance to Akeem. If in one of those Akeem should falter, then what type of man was he?
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