Pauper Rape•Seed [OPEN]

[Butler]

Pauper Rape•Seed: The Pilgrimage out of Poverty

The creature howled, lost somewhere in the distance. Naught but silence filled this place. Yet darkness ached within every rung. Splintered ropes lashed about every tree, eternally bound in their miserable woe, cross thatches by thorns ever forsaken to the footsteps of man. Reptiles slither and swim. A frail exoskeleton crunches in the slimy jowls of reinforced muscle under the fog of sudoral rot. And all life suffers the inevitable blight of death that rules the slow decay of string until its sanguine song snaps cruelly for none that hear it...

Soothing, cool ripples billow along the surface of the vomit green water. Easy as they roll, unnoticed by air's stale delivery, they shrug underneath pods of moss and regurgitated fungus with a wandering slide. Pacifically gyrating, it draws into deeper tides until it slows; aiming straighter into focus. It sinks below. All is still.

The marsh begins to roil, bubbles rising, water thrashing. Curdling rage boils from under the clamor, and small toads and lizards flee the chaos. The waters settle with clouds of slime swelling back into itself. Red ooze touches the surface, then drawing an infectious line back through previous course. But it veers towards land. Throbbing, the water bulges before cessation.

His head whips out from the water, tossing back a spray from tangled gray hair; now sticking to neck. Porcelain skin rises from the shallow with bare chest outright, arms trailing in the depths behind until, until he's caught on a snag; not caught, but carrying. Carrying a weight behind, he turns back and heaves the weight to with a splash. He steps out further, then heaves once more and hefts the dark green carcass onto the wet marsh. The massive lizard, more a crawling dragon, gushes fleshy fluids out from its torn jaws and Lucifer's shoulder shows the gaping wound of a spanning bite draining down his back.

"Ugh..." he moans halfheartedly.

Gripping his shoulder he reels to the burning pain, ergo sucking streaming water through his teeth. He feels a leech with the tip of his finger, and reaches to squeeze it off. Yet in all this, a feral insanity warms through the folds of his studious eye. His lips purse, holding back a smirk. Then the fleshy worm explodes beneath the prison of his villainous fingers. There are at least ten more scattered across his body, yet he ignores them. Returning to the predator at his feet, he takes a deep breath before punching his fist through its belly.

"HARGH!"

 

[Butler]

The spasm that the carcass suffers is but a residual effect of exposed nerves and tissue. It is already dead. Creatures nearby tremble in silence. Those afar carry on as they always have.

His haunched shoulders rise from bloody malice, dark red matter oozing off from his arm. Checking over his shoulders, he appears disheveled and disoriented as if waking from a dream. Touching his face he recalls the cool sensation of water and looks for his clothes. His boot clumsily kicks the creatures tail as he steps towards the sagging branch where chalky gray material is casually draped. It would be white if not for the dirtying of nature. Tearing off the leaches, he is bound to miss one or two. He seems not to care. Though he does smear the blood from his arm onto the robes like a towel, discarding it onto the ground. Pulling on the the long sleeves of the loose threaded 'v' neck shirt strains his wound and he cringes. It was enough just to get it on. He leaves the robe to become some creature's nest and begins the trek onwards.

Training was his focus. What he had attempted were simple techniques learned during his days with the Jedi, yet not perfected. Sometimes Lucifer could not tell where he got his ideas from, impulse more often than not. He'd managed to keep away the cold, to hold his breath and bar the pain to push his body further; all while repelling the creatures of the deep from a submerged trance. He clearly needed more, he yearned for it; enough to risk his life as he did. And now the bleeding of his torn flesh shook his focus, more cosmetically than anything; greatly anticipating the moment when he might heal in the Temple and regain his maintained image of flawlessness.

But he had come for something more than training, vision. Even as a Padawan, before the Sith came and disbanded the Jedi, he had heard of the legendary cave on Dagobah. To wander its perils was equivalent to partaking of the tree of knowledge in old lore. Lucifer wanted that power, the power that knowledge gives.

He leisurely strolled through the jungle, occasionally pepping with short runs and leaps to and from obstacles back into casual pace. This night would reveal providence, he just knew it.

 

[Butler]

The pair of thick teethed boots splashed into the shallow waters, sinking into the mud. The waves of his landing cast spreading ripples over the distant abandoned trees that stemmed from the deep below. He winced to the throbbing sensations in his shoulder, a continuous pain; though minute in its clinging patience. He looked around, straining to lift his legs free from the muck and continue on through the mist that enveloped his shins. Traversing a gap of swamp water, Lucifer steadily strode. There were no trees or random land masses to skip in order to avoid these disgusting waters.

Lucifer thought long and hard in this time alone. His memories haunted him distantly, like dreams that had escaped him. Yet they still gripped the sting of old wounds. It frightened him, though only Joshua had seen him lose it. Most others believed Lucifer to be a holy being, dealing death in a bloody rage of end-war. Or perhaps they just saw him as a devious, head-heavy, back-stabber. There was no set security inside his head. Even Lucifer could not predict where his emotions would take him next. And yet, he felt a swell of vision consuming him most mornings; calling him to a greater purpose of drive and ambition. No other place than at the forefront of a thousand worshipers did he feel most suited, boldly preaching to the masses. It was a desire of his, to stand above others and be known. But to what end he did not know, not yet.

Even as creatures were drawn to his pull in the water, so did he feel the galaxy's draw to his magnetism; only Gabriel's magnetism. Lucifer thought down on himself, confusing himself for another yet again before blinking the heavy crisis out of mind. Perhaps it was all just a dream, he considered. Perhaps he really was Gabriel.

Yet as his thoughts drifted through the sliding slime, so too were others creeping behind. Things so small seemed to vanish, while things much bigger seemed to be too scarce. The river of sludge stemmed back on both sides as he slipped into neck deep paddling, surprising him back into awareness as he made reaching the dry opposing side of land his priority for comfort sake. Many creatures, slugs and snakes, slithered through these waters. Little known to Lucifer, there were some such worms even in these parts...

 

[Butler]

The tide suddenly sucked into swallowing whirlpool as Lucifer was dragged down its pulling stream. A dragon's head arose from the snaking contortion of its body lie in wait. And Lucifer could but paddle tenaciously. His body was turned on its back as the water slid onto scales and the beast trailed a sparkling green waterfall from its rising neck, opening its razor sharp teeth in savor of the moment to salivate over what pale human flesh might taste like.

But, as soon as the waters splashed crisscrossing chaotic bearings for the beast's wake, the deep began stirring from yet further below.

The pull of sinking water from rising mass enveloped them both in reversing and emptying swell, as the dragonsnake's tail was seized and swallowed down into the whirlpool of yet again. Lucifer's shock was carried with them both as they were gobbled up by a massive swamp slug in one resurfacing mouthful.

And the frightful commotion drained below notice of the brainless slug rising into disinterested floating. The sludge strewn waters settled as if nothing had ever happened.

 

[Butler]

Slime swirled and bubbled against their faces, their limbs thrashing and pummeling into each other frantically. Fat and phlegm stretched, tying them into a tugging knot as breath seized and swallowed sewage gagging backwater within a maelstrom of absolution in darkness. The pressure seeped down in through their ears, washing their eyes white absent light. Each digit stringing against elastic esophagus, they swore to remember the feel of gravel against their skin beyond slimy flesh. Dying, they two slowed in their protest of fate. They lay there, until dragon's claw caught on wall lining, tearing open a hole that spilled a pull from within.

His mind was lost when instinct for survival gripped onto life tightly, throttling it bid him passage back to the swamps. Stomach swell roiled into decompression, before finally erupting with a bladder bursting pop.

Water separated from air as the slug splattered explosively, coloring the landscape with its shredded skin and fluids as two bodies fell free from its insides back into the drift.

Lucifer's cheek slid into mud on the shoreside, unconscious and even likely dead dragon bobbing head-under at his feet. He convulsed once before hurling pink and green fluids from behind his tongue onto the brown beside his face. His hand contorted exhaustingly, his wrist dug up through the fluids grasping for earth. And his eyes rolled open back into place as his face could finally relax.

He gasped for breath, laying there in recuperation, as his lungs retaught his brain to think; soon recounting what had just happened and why...

 

[Butler]

Green slime trailed from his lip as he finally lifted from the mud, smeared all over his frontal facade of dirtied white. He coughed once more, kicking out the last of the slug's insides from within his throat. His wrist pushed the fluid from his cheek, where disgust spread over his concerned countenance. Survival behind him, all he could fixate upon was a disturbing taste in his mouth. He shivered.

Standing, his hands spread in thought of wiping himself off. But they reconsidered in lieu of a lost cause. But still they shook off this feeling in hopes of shaking the slime from notice. It didn't work.

But, looking around, he noticed a difference in the swamp's slumping trees; beneath the slug's entrails. He could feel it. And his nose rose to the sensation, eyes wandering over the change of darkness. More centralized and intuitive was the night here, swirling like a throbbing heart with thoughts to tantalize those near it with its corruption. His mind wandered with foggy flashes of most disturbing moments, pushed on him from this awareness.

"Come..."

His head snapped towards the whispering plague that sank through the gasses in the air. And his eyes fixed upon a small opening, framing a black hole in the roots that twisted from the earth. The cave...

"Come..." the voice slithered.

And he heard the flutter of tongue streaming off the familiar tone. The branches bent and moved around him, snakes writhing round the roots as if inhabiting the bark itself. Steam filtered through their pores as they all glared at him, bidding him entrance yet reeling with each step closer. His breath quickened. His fingers curled in wanting of the mystery beyond. He was here. He had come to the portal of dreams and visions, the eye through the soul that spreads into the tales of future light. His time had come. Lucifer would make history here.

 

[Butler]

His feet dragged through the mud, his eyes heavy and wandering into the sickness of his entranced mind. His feet stepped into the labyrinth of roots interwoven with slithering bodies. The ground moved beneath him, regardless of his weight. The branches above creaked, then somehow fell limp with the hiss of snakes flexing fangs; drooling venom down onto his shoulder as he passed through a hesitant lean.

Like gray-green pythons, yet with fangs as long and dark as the most dangerous of reptiles, these serpents infested this first segment. His arm lifted away the thick muscle of another dangling snake. Fangs suddenly latched onto Lucifer's arm and he jerked with surprise. Grabbing behind the head, he squeezed its jaws loose but not enough to free himself. His fingers scratched at the eyes and mouth as he stumbled int further, twisting and stumbling over his own two feet. Another snake fell onto his bleeding shoulder and coiled a hiss. Another snake wrapped around his footstep into its wrapping flesh. They all hissed and recoiled angrily.

He bit onto the snake's face, fingers ripping its mouth open, and tore a bite of its eye's surrounding muscle within his teeth before spitting it out. He pulled its body away from him, tearing its teeth from his punctured forearm that dribbled black and red blood; throwing the body down at the others. His feet continued to step backwards. They all slowed to a stillness. He could see it coming. Until finally they all began lunging at him, lashing out from their perches and off the ground and onto his arms.

Lucifer spun away, swatting them out of the air as other bit down onto his body and constricted around their claim to his flesh.

He fought, even as he felt their disease seep into his bloodstream. He tripped over the small exit and fell onto his back, rolling over them and fiercely ripping them off of his body. Frantically tumbling down into the fog, he soon found himself free of them; nowhere to be seen. Nothing was left of them but the bleeding pairs of punctures all over his body, trailing their signature black poison down in streaks. He tried to catch his breath. Then he noticed a white light breaking through the fog over his head, over his shoulder.

He turned around.

All he could see was a blur. He felt lightheaded, numbing to the various throbbing pains all over his slimy mud-ridden body. He strained and squinted, finally making out the outline of one figure in the shadows.

White feathers fell from the dark streams of shadow in the smoke steaming from the light. Snakes suddenly shot up from the fogged floor, each of them snatching up a feather and dragging it below.

Lucifer wobbled, eyes rolling to the back of his head, hands searching for something to stabilize him.

Dark cloud rippled out as wings spread from the figure, feathers flying, dancing like weightless snowflakes. Yet from the lifting shadow of wings came two hands, one on left shoulder and one on right. Two more figures emerged. It was himself. Lucifer was standing in the center there. But it wasn't him as he knew himself. And the two others he could not recognize. He couldn't understand their faces, why he didn't know them yet feel such a familiarity in their statures and postures. Lucifer watched as his winged self gripped onto two swords on either side, presented over each individual's bellies. Lucifer's self plunged the swords into those two and tore them out with a crossing flurry, turning the blades over and straight up at his sides. The two fell into plooming cloud, and a massive snake slithered out from the back of this Lucifer; curling itself around his arms and swords and neck all the way round from hand to hand across wingspan. It caressed his grips on the swords, yet seemed to whisper into his ear with forked tongue, until those swords finally acknowledged Lucifer as his own enemy. Lucifer ignited the blue beam, somehow already in his hand, and he readied himself; failing to shake the groggy weight from his head. The two swords arced around to cross through his neck. But Lucifer dropped below them and arose with a slice through the forearms as the heavy swords plopped to the ground. Lucifer stared at the hands holding the swords as serpents slithered through a foggy bed of feathers and intertwined onto them.

Something was on his arm. It was the massive snake. It slithered upon him. And before he knew it, it was spanning his arms' length and hissing into his ear. His winged other spread its severed arms and wings to the sky as its body roped bloody roots out from within and twisted into a gnarled fleshy tree budding white dots. Lucifer's finger slowly approached one, stroking its end point softly. It bounced from the vine and bloomed a bled sharp yellow at its base petals with white and a hint of black dots. The snake's body rolled under the petals and he heard Arisa's voice call his name.

He felt heavy, pumped full of poisons and drugged in gases and bled feint. He collapsed.

 

[Butler]

He moaned into the dry dirt and a mouthful of roots. His eyes quivered open, blurred in their view of his bent arm. They trailed down his skin, no sign of puncture marks. His neck strained to lift his head and continue the search. No fang marks anywhere.

He gasped. Seeing a boa-constrictor slithering before his face. It was already too close, brushing against his temple as it pushed by. But it wasn't hostile towards him. He could sense it, fearing from the dream just moments ago; but hours ago. There was something on its scales, imbedded in its skin. Lucifer pushed up to his knees and looked with clearer vision. There was a white bud poking out from inside the serpent's flesh. Lucifer looked to the head that wormed around his left leg, then back to the bud in its skin. His fingers reached, then felt its soft texture, then began burrowing for it. The snake flexed from the digging, but Lucifer gauged his safety and continued. Black red liquid bled out onto his fingers and he plucked the bud from the serpent's patient body. Under closer inspection, Lucifer remembered the flower bud inside the cave and recognized the seed within his fingers. He didn't recognize the genus, but vowed to find out. He'd care for it and tend its growth. And if it bloomed into the same flower in his dream, then he'd know the significance. The strikingly sharp yellow flashed in his mind as he recalled the freckles upon its petals. And the snakes, he remembered the snakes. But this was like the large one wrapped around the angel's arms.

Lucifer was hesitant, but pinched his flexing fingers together and held them out. He reached them out until the serpent could see them, shifting around and onto them and up his arm. Lucifer felt his skin become riddled with nervous bumps. It took so long, yet felt important somehow and worth every second, until the full weight of the serpent was upon him. It was heavy, especially around his wounded shoulder; which it seemed to coil around especially like a protective hide. Struggling to stand, Lucifer lifted up under the serpent and held himself proud. He would consider this a badge of honor, if nothing else, as he then decided to make his way back to the Temple. He had a long ways to go, and much to consider. So many feelings confused him, yet gave him hope. He'd felt at home with those two shadows, as if they were his own flesh and blood. Perhaps they were. But what did that mean then that he, the apparition, killed them? That's what he believed it to be, without a doubt due to his Jedi upbringing. It was an apparition that was based off of his new mindset. It was his future, the end.