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Post by Pitch on Jan 2, 2013 1:14:39 GMT -5
Pitch was new to this strange world, it reminded him of the old times, the dark ages, when fear had conquered earth, when everyone had known his name and when every last man, woman, and child had feared his very presence. It was a rural world, lost in forests, bathed in magic and trickery, it was a giant playground, perfect for his power. Perfect for his fear.
The blackened forest was a section of this world he enjoyed. It was creepy, eerie, left goose bumps trailing across your flesh and a bad feeling creeping up your spine, it was beautiful. A masterpiece of flawless design and execution. His golden orbs, hollow and heartless flickered to the misted shadows and with a swirl of his hand, a black stallion emerged from the fog, flesh and bone and blackness cloaking the beast in fear. A monster for sure.
"Such an exquisite setting of nature, perfect for breeding an army." The horse's mouth pulled into a maniacal grin as a thousand blinking golden eyes flickered in the darkness, hearing their masters thrumming call. They were the embodiment of fear, able to shift their appearance into whatever the victim feared most, the most deadly of blades without actually touching the individual. Pitch did not get his kicks from death... oh no, but from the suffering, the fear, the terror of individuals, he thrived on it, writhed in the euphoria of bliss it brought him, and with each blood-curdling scream, his powers only grew.
The snap of a twig had the shadows vanishing, retreating back into the darkness, awaiting their masters call. A wicked grin curled at Pitch's mouth as he, himself retreated into the fierce darkness. With wicked intent he awaited whatever poor soul might walk through the trees.
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Post by Touma Kamijou on Jan 4, 2013 1:58:52 GMT -5
Darkness.... Darkness... Suddenly a cough... His eyes popped open, his breathing got heavy, he fought to push himself up, his body completely aching all over. What happened? He searched, nothing, just darkness. Where was he? He tempted to find it, nothing. His head was throbbing incredible, the more he tempted to think, the worst the throbbing got. He was finally able to sit himself up enough to look around, it was dark... Too dark, his eyes gradually adjusted, his pains soon became last thing in his mind. He heard a voice nearby, he knew not to trust that voice, ever part of his being stated it. He tempted to pick himself up, only to find it painfully, horrifyingly hard.
Using a near by tree, he was completely able to stand up straight, well with a slight limp. His face showed great concentration to not yell in pain. If you were too look at him, you would see plenty of new fresh scratches. No telling where he got them, he couldn't even remember. Everything was just drawing a blank. Everything around him was just a black blur. The only thing that made sense, do not let that near by thin hear you. He looked at his outfit and swore at his bad lcuk, he stuck out like a swore thumb. His white modern cotton shirt, his white socks with no shoes, and his brown casual pants seem the only blending being done. Why did he wear this of all days? What was even happening?
The pain in his right leg was no longer bearable, he tempted to push himself up the tree some more, only to snap a twig. Instantly he turned his head toward the direction, he had heard the voice. His only thought was to run, at least hop. He immediately started running the best he could, using his right foot almost a total support, his left limping and slowing him down. He barely even got that far before he tripped over a root and fell to the ground. He grinded his teeth as pain seared all over his body.
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Post by Pitch on Jan 4, 2013 2:24:14 GMT -5
Pitch was a creature of shadows, darkness and fear. He used no magic and wove no spells, he manipulated the darkness like one might grains of sand, shivering and ever restless the shadows shifted. Coiling around him, caressing his body like a long lost lover. Madness and anger had gripped his soul in an unrelenting vice beginning with the loss of his daughter some thousands of years ago. The darkness hid him, draped over him and allowed him to walk within their realm, a realm poisoned by pain, uncertainty, and misery.
He watched with yellowed eyes the poor wounded soldier, the bleeding warrior injured possibly beyond repair couldn't bare his own weight, much less stand a chance against Pitch's powers. Once a guardian, now a demon he wielded shadows like a weapon of horrible destruction, plaguing the earth with nightmares and fear. He wicked grin revealed daggers for teeth and his eyes shot to the soldiers left. A crying whinny, a black stallion, a nightmare manifesting itself in the form of a horse screamed its displeasure, rearing up above the fallen boy.
"Easy now girl... the poor thing is already injured." His voice was genuine sincere, the greatest actor that ever lived, and the fearsome creature calmed immediately, retreating from the fallen soldier, nostrils flaring in agitation at being denied the chance to bring the soldiers greatest fears to life. There was something seductive about the way Pitch glided across the earth, in his voice and in his posture. He was regal but in an almost whimsical kind of way.
Pale as the one with a long lithe frame, golden eyes caught the injured mans and help such a great deal of sympathy it was amazing he wasn't crying. He crouched down beside the man, brushing icy fingers across his cheek. Glancing at the various injuries and the lame leg Pitch almost purred his next words.
"It must be awful, dealing with such aggravating pain... poor thing." Pitch rose to his full height, the shadows that created his attire shifting tirelessly across his flesh as he approached the beast. The stallion pawed the earth, angry and anxious, waiting to be unleashed. "Your pain will be a great deal worse, should you feel any more fear... she can smell it. She thrives on it." Pitch's voice turned cold and cruel as he stroked the beasts mane, created from his own molding. Its eyes as golden and cruel as Pitch's. "So tell me... what are you afraid of?" Eyes once filled with false hopes and sympathies, were not calloused and cold, filled with wicked and horrible intent. A demon once again.
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Post by Touma Kamijou on Jan 4, 2013 2:54:01 GMT -5
He didn't hear it coming, he just knew it was. He tempted to turn himself over, but found no strength to do so. The best he could do was just lay there and wait for his fate, his death. He felt the darkness and coldness coming nearer and nearer, it just about covered him with a blanket.
He fought off any major fear, but it still hung in the air like a deadly disease. His body was shaking as if an unbearable cold had overcome him. Oddly, the thing was numbing him, it was relaxing, almost like a blessing. Just take him away now, just end it now. But no... He had to live. He didn't know why but he felt it. Something... He had to, but why? What was so important? He did not understand, he knew he was a goner, but did he fear death? That couldn't be it... Surely, not. Why?
He heard the voice again, only talking to something. What? He knew not, he did not want to know. He felt a deep pressure, what he did not know, suddenly back off. He dared not to let a sigh of relief be release, for he felt something greater, darker coming near. Nearer and Nearer it came. It was it, the voice. No the voice owner, the one not to be trusted.
He dared not to move a muscle, maybe... Just maybe, if he laid here not moving, it'll think he was a goner. He felt it touch his cheek, he could not help but flinch. So cold, so... So... seducing. His heart skipped a beat, from fear? From Greed? From what? He knew not. It spoke once more, in a dangerous whisper. It sounded dangerously like a taunt to him. Yet caring at once. What was with this?
Slowly the thing rose, the cold and numbing did not vanish. His body merely kept on shaking. He knew it was now or never, he tempted to force himself up. He had only partial success, he was able to raise but his legs laid there, to numb to move. He groaned in pain from all the pressure he was putting on his wounded body. He grinded his teeth harder as he forced himself all the way up to sitting position. He dared not look at what was before him, it only caused curiosity to grow.
The voice spoke again, once more in a deadly cool taunt. It asked what he was afraid of, he knew not. He could not remember, this situation forced him to dig in his memories, only there was none. He headed throbbed more, he let out a scream not understanding. "Why? Why? Why nothing!? Why just darkness."
[/color] It was then... He made a dangerous mistake, he opened his eyes. What he saw he could not understand. A shadow, a moving shadow. No... A thing. A thing in that. Wait no... He did not get it. He felt angry and frustration, but fear was underneath it all. He was going to die. here and now, but this thing. He knew not what it was. He knew however, in every fiber of his being, it was not safe. It was not here to hold hands and sing "kumbaya".[/blockquote][/size] |
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Post by Pitch on Jan 4, 2013 14:30:22 GMT -5
Pitch's keen eyes missed nothing. The darkness in his soul and the festering cruelty that clawed at his empty shell of a heart were ruthless in their intent. He watched the boy writhe in agony, both physical and seemingly emotional pain. His golden eyes sparkled with delight. How delicious! How delightful, his anguish brought life to the very depths of Pitch's soul. The shadows felt their masters victory and shifted restless, anxious. Like a striking serpent that blackness slithered over the bog approaching their master and making him seem all the more sinister as they surrounded his pale flesh and darkened the rings around his eyes.
"Why dear boy? The darkness feeds on chaos, on fear, on misery, and on your suffering. It thrives on your pain and delights in every scream you offer it." Pitch's voice was dark and seductive again. He ran slender fingers through the restless darkness as if it was a living, breathing entity. The shadows bent and bowed to Pitch's will creating a small group of black stallions with the same soulless golden eyes. Pitch himself vanished in a whirl of black smoke and reappeared only a moment later crouched down in front of the young boy his icy fingers stopping a hairs width away from his flesh and his golden eyes widened impossibly large with false sympathy.
"You cannot kill fear." Barely above a whisper he breathed the words just barely loud enough for the boy to hear, before he vanished once again. One of the horses screamed, rearing up on hind legs, before all seven descended towards him like a cloud of destruction, manifesting into what he feared the most as they thundered towards him.
Pitch watched from afar, drenched in the shadows as they coiled around him like a cloak. His piercing gold eyes watched with barely repressed disdain as he awaited the man's screams. The stallions would not kill him...no Pitch never killed his victims, but they would force him to relive his worst fears, his most cruel of nightmares over and over again and again, they would torture him until his mind cracked and his psyche broke...or until Pitch called back his beasts. A wickedly cruel smile pulled at the corners of his mouth and his eyes crinkled in the darkness. His flesh broke out with goose bumps as he yearned to hear the man's screams. Pitch's cold and cruel laughter echoed out into the bog, it would be the accompanying symphony to the man's pain.
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Post by Touma Kamijou on Jan 4, 2013 23:46:56 GMT -5
The shadow.. It seemingly to dance. gold eyes seemed to be piercing directly at him, fear pumped red hot blood into his ears. He knew there was no escaping, but he still just held onto a small chance of hope, he did not understand. The owner of the voice spoke again, making just another taunt, he seemed to be a pro, no not a time for jokes. The black shadow created a group of dark horse-like creatures. Immediately after the owner of the voice vanished a smoke. He planned to leave him to die? What a coward.
That was when the owner of the voice suddenly reappeared in front of him, make him flinch back in fear. What was with this guy? He once again reached toward his face, the boy didn't even bother dodging it. He just glared straight into those golden eyes, he will not give this thing what it wanted, no way. The thing pulled its hand back. He once again whispered a taunt, seriously this guy. He soon after vanished in a shadow. Probably to stay out of his beast's way, the coward. Humorous, the fear is the biggest coward.
The black-horse creatures immediately started headed in his direction, he reacted in response to put up his right arm. Why this? He didn't not understand. He closed his eyes and looked away. Then suddenly laughter, a dark laughter that grew, the coward was enjoying this. His fear was soon covered up in rage and courage. What was this guy? A true villain would watch his crime at work.
This frustration made him look at the horses now five centimeters away, this is the end. It reached his right hand and slammed into it, it suddenly reared back letting an echo of pain be released. Higher pitch that the crazed coward laughter. It backed up, soon after another charged. Same effect, it reared back as in pain. Wait... He wasn't dead. What the? He felt high hopes raise. They couldn't touch him.. But why? He felt this suddenly sense of power and laughed from sheer joy. The horses soon started backing away, anger rising in their eyes, "You can't touch me! Ha! Cowards, scared of being hurt?"
[/color] if he could stand, he would so these horses a thing or two, but he was just incapable of going anywhere. Just his luck. "Hey! coward! Your Monsters are useless! They can't even touch me! Come get me yourself! You fool!"[/color] he shouted it as loud as he could, it echoed through the forest, his taunt. He wasn't scared, hell no. [/blockquote][/size] |
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Post by Pitch on Jan 5, 2013 16:02:33 GMT -5
The stallions reared back, the boys hands piercing through them like tissue paper, the shadows reformed over the holes immediately, repairing the horses as if they had never been touched. They stayed their distance not because they couldn't draw close... no they weren't made of magic, they were living, breathing shadows manifested in a physical form. They couldn't be repelled, it was impossible, no one had such strengths. But the man made them uneasy, shifting, hesitating as they pranced around him, circling him in a messed tangle of rippling shadows and piercing golden eyes, they screamed their agitation, snorting and pawing the ground as they encased him in a dangerous tornado of blackened shadows, keeping him boxed in. They did not move to strike him again. They needed their masters assurance. They needed his strength.
Pitch watched with hungry golden eyes, filled with hatred and disdain. This man would be like countless others consumed by his fear until he grew bored and released him from the curse he wielded without care. Once Pitch had been a noble and honorable human, fighting for the good of man with an army at his flank. He had been loved by the people and counted as a hero... until the disappearance of his daughter. He had searched for her, days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months, months to years... he heard her voice calling him, beckoning him into the dark caverns and even though he knew she wasn't there, he went in, needing to hear her voice. The darkling's, demons, had consumed him. They took his soul and bathed him in eternal darkness. Now he was forced to live until the ends of time, alone, manipulating the shadows and fear like a warrior wields a broad sword. Bitter did not begin to describe the man.
Pitch's dark eyes widened in curiosity as he watched his horses hesitate, his fear pausing in its descent upon him, there were very few in creation who could dispel his powers so easily, it was bizarre and yet the horses did not vanish, merely backed off, never afraid but hesitant seeking his guidance his aid, and Pitch's day suddenly grew more interesting. Appearing directly in front of the man once again, the horses stopped eagerly anticipating Pitch's command, they obeyed only him, they listened to only him, they were fear and shadows all wrapped up into a single creation and they yearned to be set free. Pitch however snarled and one pale hand shot out to grab the boys jaw, pale cold fingers coiled around his cheek hard enough to gain attention but not hard enough to bruise. He wasn't a Guardian, he wielded no weapons, he wasn't someone the Moon had chosen... so who was he.
"What are you?" The snarl, cold and calloused left his mouth in a venomous hiss.
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Post by Touma Kamijou on Jan 5, 2013 22:16:07 GMT -5
The owner of the voice suddenly appeared in front of him. the boy instantly regretted his taunt. ONly the ones with the power make the taunts. The owner snarled at him, making the boy's grin gradually drop. This was not going to end well. The shadow weaver's hand suddenly shot out and grabbed his jaw, it burned like crazy. The boy let out yowls of pain as he tempted to fight him, but only making the situation work.
The the shadow weaver spoke again, make the boy stop. What was he? He knew not... "Sorry to break it to you, I don't remember."
[/color] he said it with such composure, it seemed as if his courage suddenly came back. "Oh, by the way, your breath stinks. You know instead of boring me to death, just kill me and get it over with. Or are you to coward?"[/color] Damn he has to stop with the taunts. His mouth turned to a mischievous smile, was he actually enjoying this? Why was he enjoying this moment, he should be shaking to tears, like a wimp. Damn courage, go away. This was not normal. The angrier this guy, this shadow weaver, the more torment he'll face. Just end it now shadow weaver, before he makes it worse, for himself. [/blockquote][/size] |
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Post by Pitch on Jan 5, 2013 23:05:47 GMT -5
Golden oculars bore into this boys. Barely spat from his mother's womb and able to dispel his darkness, his shadows... how intriguing. It was utterly rare when something perked his interest. He was as old as time, had been around for centuries. The Dark Ages had been a time of extreme happiness for him. Everyone had feared him, when darkness fell doors were locked, windows shut tight... he was the very creature that was said to rob young maidens of their souls, who devoured children and sucked them down into the fiery pits of hell. These were all very amusing stories... not true, but amusing all the same.
It seemed the young boy had a spine, and as his insults reached his ears, Pitch grinned, his lips pulling up to reveal rows of dagger-like teeth, his gold eyes glittered with amusement and his laughter flooded the air. His grip tightened on the young boys chin and it took him a long moment to calm down.
"My dear... dear child. I do not kill things. I find no pleasure in watching life drain for someone's eyes, I prefer a more... psychological method." His eyes flickered to the left and one of the horses drew close, it broke into pieces shifting and gliding across Pitch's flesh like a snake before condensing into a ball in the palm of his hand. "You have a brash tongue lets have your fear be something equally as brash no?" He blew the shadow with a whisper of air and watched as it sank into the boys flesh. "The first animal you come across will be your life's misery... have fun my dear boy." itch faded from view along with his fearsome stallions, vanishing completely from the bog as though they had never been there.
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Post by Touma Kamijou on Jan 6, 2013 17:01:20 GMT -5
The monster grinned, great he was going to get it now. Why couldn't he keep his mouth shut? The bests eyes suddenly sparkled, and he laughed, yep dead dead. He felt the grip tighten on his chin, the boy tightened his muscles from the pain. Psychological method? That did not at all sound good. Shadow started to cover him and sink into his skin, all but his right arm. there was nothing he could do.
The boy suddenly felt everything go blurry and gradually vanishing darkness as he fell dizzy and passed out. The world around him nothing but mere shadows and fear. If anyone was to find him, they would find touch high fever and him sweating. He would be in great need of healing.
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Post by Ann Darrow on Jan 7, 2013 16:05:17 GMT -5
Ann was lost. Her curiosity had gotten the better of her and she had gone exploring and now... she was wishing she had told her curious nature to bugger off and has stayed within the sights of Kong. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she crinkled her nose. Appalled by the stench of the bog she kept close to the trees, lest the ground give way beneath her and try to suck her down. How was she supposed to get out of here now?
Her feet were numb, the bitter chill of the dirty snow crept up her bare legs and clawed at her like wicked talons. Perhaps she should scream? Kong always seemed to find her when he thought she was in trouble. Ann snorted. No if she was going to learn to survive here she needed to do it without the help of Kong, sure she would need him, she would always need him, but learning to do things for herself would be essential, and this was a good of time as any to start.
Hushed voices caught her ears and something that simply made her hair stand on in and a shiver trace the length of her spine, permeated the air. She paused, debating whether or not she should draw near. The last creatures she had encountered on this spit of land were trolls, and they had attempted to turn her into a soup. She had no desire to run across any more monsters. She bit her bottom lip, but what if someone was in trouble? She would want someone to come and help her wouldn't she?
With that in mind the pretty blonde headed off in the direction of the strange noises, disregarding the snow and the soggy ground entirely, her eyes widened as she came upon a very injured man. She paid no attention to his state of attire, or anything else in the area, in an instant she was trudging through the snow and at his side.
"Hello... I'm not here to harm you, please don't be afraid." Ann ripped the bottom of her dress in long, thin strips, tying the pieces tightly around the wounds to apply pressure and hopefully begin the clotting process. Once she had wrapped the majority of his injuries, she got to work on packing the wounds with snow. Hoping to reverse blood flow, and to stop anymore blood loss, from occurring. "My name is Ann, try to rest if you can, I will look out for you." She place a comforting hand on his shoulder hoping he could maybe gain some rest.
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Post by Touma Kamijou on Jan 10, 2013 0:12:10 GMT -5
The noise of crunching snow, was what woke him up, the coldness of the snow, was the only thing keeping him from hurting to terribly. He however was shaking, a lot. possibly freezing to death, possibly losing his toes as we speak. He gradually opened his eyes to pretty curly haired blonde, bending over him in a protective way. He had little to no energy to even attempt on speaking, so instead he just laid there, eyes closed, wishing for her to leave and him to die. It would be but a glorious gift, here in the cold snow.
Then it was there again. The image, the girl... A white haired young girl and her smile. Who was she? He tempted to get up then, suddenly feeling the will to live. He groaned from the intensifying pain, if only there was an escape. He turned the blonde haired women, "Who-who are you?"
[/color] he asked, his teeth too chattery, to really understand.[/blockquote][/size] |
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Post by Ann Darrow on Jan 12, 2013 2:58:19 GMT -5
Ann focused the majority of her attention on bandaging the wounds she could reach. It was out of her control whether the boy would live or die but she could t least do her best to save his life. Ann saw goodness in all things. Never should a life go to waste, all living things everywhere were precious. Perhaps, one day, this would get her in trouble, especially in a world like those where trolls and orcs, and all manner of nasty creatures roamed free, but for now, she figured she was relatively safe... unless whatever had done this too him decided to come back. Ann was quite useless in a fight. She had never had a pension for violent or angry acts.
"My name is Ann, lie still. Your injuries are quite severe and you're going to need whatever blood you have left not to catch hypothermia." Ann murmured as quietly and as calmly as she could. She wrapped as many of his injuries as she could, until her flowing dress had become a mini. She dragged him over to a small tree with branches that sagged to the earth and his him beyond its leaves. She sat with her back against the tree and pulled him to lay up against her, blushing furiously all the while but understanding the importance of keeping the boy's body heat up.
"I'm not trying anything funny or immoral, I promise, just trying to warm you up." She murmured softly, rubbing his arms in an attempt to get his blood circulating faster.
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