Post by B-Radimus Prime on Jan 25, 2008 23:00:43 GMT -5
I would like to warn everyone that this was rushed, but is still annoyingly long. I have a decent idea of what I’m going to do with my character this time around , but I’ve definitely got some rust going as you might be able to tell. Also, the Blue italicized is Morgan’s point of view…it’s a short part but I don’t want anyone to get confused.
Kronic's Return
An overwhelming heat attacks my body and I am instantly awake. Flashes of red and orange violate my eyes. A fire. My mind is screaming to get up and get away from this inferno, but my body wont comply. Smoke invades my air, making it difficult to breathe. I cough and turn my head in different directions, hoping to find some fresh air amidst the dancing flames. That‘s when I notice one of my arms, a bluish pale slab of skin wrapped in thorny vines which restrains me to a thick piece of wood. Dried blood stains the openings that the thorns have made on my arms. I see that the other is the same way. I can’t feel either of them, they must’ve gone numb when this happened.
I lose concentration as the heat grows stronger and the ability to breathe lessens. I call out for help, only to receive mortifying laughs in response. That‘s when I feel these irritating needle-like pricks on my abdomen. I look down, horrified at what I see. These two creatures, like nothing I‘ve ever seen before. Tiny, gray-skinned beasts with hollow eyes and claws like knives. They bite into me with jagged teeth, ripping and tearing my skin open as rivers of blood slowly begin to cascade. The pain becomes excruciating and I scream and struggle against my restraints.
What the hell is happening to me? I fear I may get an answer as three dark creatures walk directly through the fire, seemingly unfazed, and approach me. It is too dark to see their faces, but the outlines of their bodies would suggest they are monstrous, demonic even. Two bigger ones stop just after the fire, the one in the middle approaches closest. Although this one‘s body is much smaller than the larger ones, it isn‘t any less daunting. Slithering creatures like snakes move around atop it’s head while large spikes sprout out of random places on it’s body. It holds a tall staff that‘s tip is sharp and pointed. It laughs with a deep, malevolent voice before pointing the tip of it’s staff directly at me.
Not again. I sit up quickly, eyes wide open, trying to take in my surroundings. Darkness. I can‘t see a thing. My heart is pounding so hard it feels as if it will pummel it’s way out of my chest. I‘m scared, no, I‘m terrified. This has happened too many times. I think I‘m fine and suddenly I‘ve lost myself in a world of demented nightmares before waking in places I don‘t even know exist. Maybe I didn‘t wake up this time. Maybe I‘m dead, who really knows?
I now realize that I‘m sitting on a couch and my thoughts of death slowly subside. But where did this couch come from? And who‘s couch is it? Maybe I whored myself to someone for the night, it wouldn‘t be the first time I‘ve woken up in a stranger‘s home because of these bizarre blackouts. I extend my arms slowly to see if there could be anything around me, but feel nothing so I stand up. Maybe I could feel my way around wherever I‘m at and get away or at least find a light source. I have to be careful and as quiet as possible so I don’t wake anyone up…if anyone happens to be near at all. And of course, the first step I take sends me plummeting to the floor with possibly the loudest ’thud’ the world has ever heard.
When the light flickers on and nearly blinds me, I don‘t even attempt to scurry around and find a hiding place because I know that I‘m already caught. I expect yelling or maybe a whip to crash down against my back…maybe even worse. I curl up in the fetal position, somehow thinking this will protect me for whatever lies ahead. And then I hear it.
“Are you okay?” a voice in the background asks.
Odd. That voice sounded soft, maybe even worried. I wasn‘t really expecting that. Should I stay in the fetal position? I slowly look in the direction the voice came from, confused by the sympathetic look coming from this astonishing character. His flawless mocha skin, huge almond eyes, and boyish facial features immediately stun me. I feel rather ridiculous and I‘m sure I look it as I‘m still slightly curled up on the floor of what I‘m now noticing is one of the most trashiest apartment rooms I’ve ever seen.
“Where am I?” I ask, standing hesitantly while looking to the ground.
“You mean…you don‘t remember?” The man asks, curiously.
My blank stare and wretched state are apparently enough to prove to him that I’m absolutely clueless at this moment. He offers me some coffee and I accept, even though I hate that stuff, and gestures for me to sit at a small table in the kitchen with him. He takes a sip of his own coffee, I don‘t even touch mine. He sighs and then begins to speak.
“I don‘t really know where to start, but here goes. Last night I was walking through these woods behind my apartment and I heard talking and some weird racket so I went towards it. That‘s when I saw you…you were talking to yourself, screaming really, while burying something. It looked like trouble and I was about to walk away, and then you just fell to the ground. I waited for you to get back up, but you never did, so I approached you and that‘s when I realized who you were. You were starting to wake up, but you still seemed really out of it. I brought you here and then…”
He looks around, gesturing toward the mess. I take a moment to see how destroyed this place really is. Lamps have been knocked over, tables broken, plates and glasses shattered all over the place. I then look back at him.
“Did…did I do this?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“I mentioned a name and you just freaked out. Your eyes just went from placid to…demented and you destroyed this place…I had to lock myself in my room or you probably would‘ve done something to me. And now…here we are.” he takes another sip of his coffee, “you really don‘t remember?”
“No…I-I…don‘t remember anything really. I mean, I know who I am and stuff…but so much is just blurred in my mind right now.
He nods, probably not out of understanding, but because there doesn’t seem like much else to do.
“You said you mentioned a name…who‘s name was it?” I ask.
“Meg…Warner.” he says, a little uncertain on whether he should have or not.
Meg Warner. The name triggers images of a little girl with long, russet hair laughing with two little boys on a Swingset. The image quickly fades and an unsettling sense of loss washes over me. She was a friend once, but time and circumstances tore us apart.
”And you will never forget her name.”
“Huh?” I question, looking at the man.
“What? I didn‘t say anything.” He looks puzzled.
”Megan Warner is a whore and a liar. She‘ll try to gain your trust and then use you like she‘s done to so many in the past. Get rid of her before she gets rid of you.”
What the hell? Now I‘m hearing voices in my head? This is just great. What‘s next? I shake my head and then notice that the guy is staring at me. He must think I‘m crazy and I can‘t really blame him because I‘m starting to think that too.
“Wait a minute,” I say, “you said you recognized me…and if you said Meg‘s name then you must know her. So who are you?”
I could tell him how recently I came across some of Meg‘s old belongings and have been reading through some of her very old diary entries. I read up about him. How unstable he was and how close he once was to my sister. How I finally found what I needed. I could tell him that I‘ve been following him for months and witnessed all of those bizarre blackouts. How I lead him to sign a WFWF contract while he was completely out of it. How last night, I watched him dig a hole in the ground and then place some creature‘s remains in a grave before passing out. I could tell him my whole agenda and he might even help me. Or…
“My name is Morgan…Warner. I‘m Meg‘s brother. I‘ve actually been looking for her for awhile and found out that she‘s back in the WFWF.” He answers, “Hey…since you’re going back to the WFWF, maybe we could just go in together or something, you think?”
“What? Since when am I going to the WFWF?”
“I thought I mentioned that earlier…you couldn‘t stop talking about how you were going back to the WFWF and your match…” he explains, awkwardly.
“My match?”
What is he talking about? How much have I done since blacking out? I‘ve really got to get help for this….
“Yeah. Your match is with Meg, actually. Against Reckless and Ayn Guish. You talked about it and…”
“Reckless and Ayn Guish…”
Visions suddenly flash in my mind of a man and a woman. The man, who I would assume is Reckless, lies on a street corner in the dark. His limp body rests against a rusty dumpster. His eyes are only half open, but it‘s easy to tell they‘re bloodshot. Dried up tears soil his dirty face, shards of glass pierce through his lips, forcing them shut. His legs are gone, dozens of rats gnaw away at the leftover, bloody nubs. Part of me is terrified by this image, but another part of me grows enthralled.
The woman, resembling Ayn Guish, lies in pieces around the dumpster. A severed hand acts as a gag in her mouth while maggots crawl inside and out of a hollowed eye. Her flesh has decayed and most of her insides have been cleaned by rodents and other pests that slither and crawl on the dirty concrete. A part of me is disgusted and terrified by these images, while somewhere deep inside I am completely enthralled. A voice is telling me that it must be done. That Reckless and Ayn Guish are only the first in line for tragedy to strike. Were these images created by me? Or are these just remnants of my nightmares?
I lost concentration and don‘t even realize that Morgan has been talking to me this whole time, before my head begins to spin and suddenly I‘m lost in a blackness that‘s becoming a little too familiar.
Kronic's Return
An overwhelming heat attacks my body and I am instantly awake. Flashes of red and orange violate my eyes. A fire. My mind is screaming to get up and get away from this inferno, but my body wont comply. Smoke invades my air, making it difficult to breathe. I cough and turn my head in different directions, hoping to find some fresh air amidst the dancing flames. That‘s when I notice one of my arms, a bluish pale slab of skin wrapped in thorny vines which restrains me to a thick piece of wood. Dried blood stains the openings that the thorns have made on my arms. I see that the other is the same way. I can’t feel either of them, they must’ve gone numb when this happened.
I lose concentration as the heat grows stronger and the ability to breathe lessens. I call out for help, only to receive mortifying laughs in response. That‘s when I feel these irritating needle-like pricks on my abdomen. I look down, horrified at what I see. These two creatures, like nothing I‘ve ever seen before. Tiny, gray-skinned beasts with hollow eyes and claws like knives. They bite into me with jagged teeth, ripping and tearing my skin open as rivers of blood slowly begin to cascade. The pain becomes excruciating and I scream and struggle against my restraints.
What the hell is happening to me? I fear I may get an answer as three dark creatures walk directly through the fire, seemingly unfazed, and approach me. It is too dark to see their faces, but the outlines of their bodies would suggest they are monstrous, demonic even. Two bigger ones stop just after the fire, the one in the middle approaches closest. Although this one‘s body is much smaller than the larger ones, it isn‘t any less daunting. Slithering creatures like snakes move around atop it’s head while large spikes sprout out of random places on it’s body. It holds a tall staff that‘s tip is sharp and pointed. It laughs with a deep, malevolent voice before pointing the tip of it’s staff directly at me.
Not again. I sit up quickly, eyes wide open, trying to take in my surroundings. Darkness. I can‘t see a thing. My heart is pounding so hard it feels as if it will pummel it’s way out of my chest. I‘m scared, no, I‘m terrified. This has happened too many times. I think I‘m fine and suddenly I‘ve lost myself in a world of demented nightmares before waking in places I don‘t even know exist. Maybe I didn‘t wake up this time. Maybe I‘m dead, who really knows?
I now realize that I‘m sitting on a couch and my thoughts of death slowly subside. But where did this couch come from? And who‘s couch is it? Maybe I whored myself to someone for the night, it wouldn‘t be the first time I‘ve woken up in a stranger‘s home because of these bizarre blackouts. I extend my arms slowly to see if there could be anything around me, but feel nothing so I stand up. Maybe I could feel my way around wherever I‘m at and get away or at least find a light source. I have to be careful and as quiet as possible so I don’t wake anyone up…if anyone happens to be near at all. And of course, the first step I take sends me plummeting to the floor with possibly the loudest ’thud’ the world has ever heard.
When the light flickers on and nearly blinds me, I don‘t even attempt to scurry around and find a hiding place because I know that I‘m already caught. I expect yelling or maybe a whip to crash down against my back…maybe even worse. I curl up in the fetal position, somehow thinking this will protect me for whatever lies ahead. And then I hear it.
“Are you okay?” a voice in the background asks.
Odd. That voice sounded soft, maybe even worried. I wasn‘t really expecting that. Should I stay in the fetal position? I slowly look in the direction the voice came from, confused by the sympathetic look coming from this astonishing character. His flawless mocha skin, huge almond eyes, and boyish facial features immediately stun me. I feel rather ridiculous and I‘m sure I look it as I‘m still slightly curled up on the floor of what I‘m now noticing is one of the most trashiest apartment rooms I’ve ever seen.
“Where am I?” I ask, standing hesitantly while looking to the ground.
“You mean…you don‘t remember?” The man asks, curiously.
My blank stare and wretched state are apparently enough to prove to him that I’m absolutely clueless at this moment. He offers me some coffee and I accept, even though I hate that stuff, and gestures for me to sit at a small table in the kitchen with him. He takes a sip of his own coffee, I don‘t even touch mine. He sighs and then begins to speak.
“I don‘t really know where to start, but here goes. Last night I was walking through these woods behind my apartment and I heard talking and some weird racket so I went towards it. That‘s when I saw you…you were talking to yourself, screaming really, while burying something. It looked like trouble and I was about to walk away, and then you just fell to the ground. I waited for you to get back up, but you never did, so I approached you and that‘s when I realized who you were. You were starting to wake up, but you still seemed really out of it. I brought you here and then…”
He looks around, gesturing toward the mess. I take a moment to see how destroyed this place really is. Lamps have been knocked over, tables broken, plates and glasses shattered all over the place. I then look back at him.
“Did…did I do this?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“I mentioned a name and you just freaked out. Your eyes just went from placid to…demented and you destroyed this place…I had to lock myself in my room or you probably would‘ve done something to me. And now…here we are.” he takes another sip of his coffee, “you really don‘t remember?”
“No…I-I…don‘t remember anything really. I mean, I know who I am and stuff…but so much is just blurred in my mind right now.
He nods, probably not out of understanding, but because there doesn’t seem like much else to do.
“You said you mentioned a name…who‘s name was it?” I ask.
“Meg…Warner.” he says, a little uncertain on whether he should have or not.
Meg Warner. The name triggers images of a little girl with long, russet hair laughing with two little boys on a Swingset. The image quickly fades and an unsettling sense of loss washes over me. She was a friend once, but time and circumstances tore us apart.
”And you will never forget her name.”
“Huh?” I question, looking at the man.
“What? I didn‘t say anything.” He looks puzzled.
”Megan Warner is a whore and a liar. She‘ll try to gain your trust and then use you like she‘s done to so many in the past. Get rid of her before she gets rid of you.”
What the hell? Now I‘m hearing voices in my head? This is just great. What‘s next? I shake my head and then notice that the guy is staring at me. He must think I‘m crazy and I can‘t really blame him because I‘m starting to think that too.
“Wait a minute,” I say, “you said you recognized me…and if you said Meg‘s name then you must know her. So who are you?”
I could tell him how recently I came across some of Meg‘s old belongings and have been reading through some of her very old diary entries. I read up about him. How unstable he was and how close he once was to my sister. How I finally found what I needed. I could tell him that I‘ve been following him for months and witnessed all of those bizarre blackouts. How I lead him to sign a WFWF contract while he was completely out of it. How last night, I watched him dig a hole in the ground and then place some creature‘s remains in a grave before passing out. I could tell him my whole agenda and he might even help me. Or…
“My name is Morgan…Warner. I‘m Meg‘s brother. I‘ve actually been looking for her for awhile and found out that she‘s back in the WFWF.” He answers, “Hey…since you’re going back to the WFWF, maybe we could just go in together or something, you think?”
“What? Since when am I going to the WFWF?”
“I thought I mentioned that earlier…you couldn‘t stop talking about how you were going back to the WFWF and your match…” he explains, awkwardly.
“My match?”
What is he talking about? How much have I done since blacking out? I‘ve really got to get help for this….
“Yeah. Your match is with Meg, actually. Against Reckless and Ayn Guish. You talked about it and…”
“Reckless and Ayn Guish…”
Visions suddenly flash in my mind of a man and a woman. The man, who I would assume is Reckless, lies on a street corner in the dark. His limp body rests against a rusty dumpster. His eyes are only half open, but it‘s easy to tell they‘re bloodshot. Dried up tears soil his dirty face, shards of glass pierce through his lips, forcing them shut. His legs are gone, dozens of rats gnaw away at the leftover, bloody nubs. Part of me is terrified by this image, but another part of me grows enthralled.
The woman, resembling Ayn Guish, lies in pieces around the dumpster. A severed hand acts as a gag in her mouth while maggots crawl inside and out of a hollowed eye. Her flesh has decayed and most of her insides have been cleaned by rodents and other pests that slither and crawl on the dirty concrete. A part of me is disgusted and terrified by these images, while somewhere deep inside I am completely enthralled. A voice is telling me that it must be done. That Reckless and Ayn Guish are only the first in line for tragedy to strike. Were these images created by me? Or are these just remnants of my nightmares?
I lost concentration and don‘t even realize that Morgan has been talking to me this whole time, before my head begins to spin and suddenly I‘m lost in a blackness that‘s becoming a little too familiar.
