- Joined
- May 26, 2013
- Messages
- 545
- Reaction score
- 44
It was a dark and stormy day. The clouds covered the skies above, blocking the sunlight, shadowing the vision, while the roaring of the thunders and lightnings filled ears. Almost as if the terrifying weather was a reflection of the boy's inner spirit. Wild, uncontrolled, with no clear purpose.
His sword carelessly hung to his belt, his coat flowing with the wind which was slipping inside the cantina from below the gates, his eyes empty and heartbeat faded. It was as if all was an act. Such doleful things, bond by chains solid and unbreakable, forming a black order of events which was his unforgetable past. He had ran. He had killed. Fought. But what now? Through an entire universe he had fled, from a foe merciless and determined. A beast, he had created himself, forged in the fires of his lust and passion, he had lost so dearly to it. So deeply. He had lost everything, especially himself.
When, the boy wandered. When will I be able to feel the soft strokes of the kind wind in my consumed skin ever again? When the sun shall smile to me ever again, will the love one day embrace and forgive? Who was he running from? Where was he running to? Questions, awaiting answers. He knew nothing more than the whip of pain's wrath, not the wind. The scorching fires of punishment and emptiness, not the sun. The exhausting trials of the war, not the love. It had abandoned him long ago. The memories were the deadliest of enemies.
A hand grabbed his wrist, forcing him to turn and see a man before him, looking up to his eyes, his tear paintings, his empty flesh. A group of other vile-looking men were awaiting behind him, all focused on Asmodean. Suddenly, they laughed.
"Hey you moron, what da hell you doin' here ey? Where did you come from, a freak show? Check this out boys!"
The group bursted into a full laughter. A moment later, the sword was already unleashed from it's resting place, had opened up the man's throat, and blood was gushing out of the fresh wound. The speed of the stike was enough to turn the now standing corpse around, and stain the rest of the group red. Another moment later, Asmodean was already surrounded, blasters directed at him, swords and hostile eyes, while a sudden panic filled the large and crowded cantina, screams of fear replacing the art of the music band in the corner.
The fat and old bartender came rushing to the place. He had an innocent face and a beard, a kind man who usually minded his own business, who seeked no trouble by the look of it. His daughter and his wife were watching in terror from the otherside of the table, Asmodean knew it because he heard them talking earlier.
"Why did you that boy! Leave my place now, your kind aren't allowed here!"
Everything was silent, all eyes were turned on him, cautious, full of a hatred suddenly came into existance. All was silent. Just as he wanted.
The sword went through the old man's chest, as Asmodean held him by his shoulder and pressed his body further into the cold metal.
"I have destroyed nations for less."
He whispered to his ear with a nochalant voice as a thunder fell upon the ground somewhere nearby, a terrifing lightning and roar filling everything for a heartbeat. He whisperd to the man, now robbed of his life.
His sword carelessly hung to his belt, his coat flowing with the wind which was slipping inside the cantina from below the gates, his eyes empty and heartbeat faded. It was as if all was an act. Such doleful things, bond by chains solid and unbreakable, forming a black order of events which was his unforgetable past. He had ran. He had killed. Fought. But what now? Through an entire universe he had fled, from a foe merciless and determined. A beast, he had created himself, forged in the fires of his lust and passion, he had lost so dearly to it. So deeply. He had lost everything, especially himself.
When, the boy wandered. When will I be able to feel the soft strokes of the kind wind in my consumed skin ever again? When the sun shall smile to me ever again, will the love one day embrace and forgive? Who was he running from? Where was he running to? Questions, awaiting answers. He knew nothing more than the whip of pain's wrath, not the wind. The scorching fires of punishment and emptiness, not the sun. The exhausting trials of the war, not the love. It had abandoned him long ago. The memories were the deadliest of enemies.
A hand grabbed his wrist, forcing him to turn and see a man before him, looking up to his eyes, his tear paintings, his empty flesh. A group of other vile-looking men were awaiting behind him, all focused on Asmodean. Suddenly, they laughed.
"Hey you moron, what da hell you doin' here ey? Where did you come from, a freak show? Check this out boys!"
The group bursted into a full laughter. A moment later, the sword was already unleashed from it's resting place, had opened up the man's throat, and blood was gushing out of the fresh wound. The speed of the stike was enough to turn the now standing corpse around, and stain the rest of the group red. Another moment later, Asmodean was already surrounded, blasters directed at him, swords and hostile eyes, while a sudden panic filled the large and crowded cantina, screams of fear replacing the art of the music band in the corner.
The fat and old bartender came rushing to the place. He had an innocent face and a beard, a kind man who usually minded his own business, who seeked no trouble by the look of it. His daughter and his wife were watching in terror from the otherside of the table, Asmodean knew it because he heard them talking earlier.
"Why did you that boy! Leave my place now, your kind aren't allowed here!"
Everything was silent, all eyes were turned on him, cautious, full of a hatred suddenly came into existance. All was silent. Just as he wanted.
The sword went through the old man's chest, as Asmodean held him by his shoulder and pressed his body further into the cold metal.
"I have destroyed nations for less."
He whispered to his ear with a nochalant voice as a thunder fell upon the ground somewhere nearby, a terrifing lightning and roar filling everything for a heartbeat. He whisperd to the man, now robbed of his life.
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