Post by Tiff'blz on Aug 19, 2007 15:26:31 GMT -5
D. stood with a small smile on his face. Unbelievable, it seemed, as he was surrounded by men that wanted to see his body parts spread all over the continent. Tiny patterns on his skin stood out like tiny cut marks. Indeed they were of blood, but it was hardly his own. Each one resembled a chain. Each chain had a different pattern, maybe one had blades, the others had thorn like creations, and others has what looked like wrecking balls at the end. Hundreds of designs and all for one use. He had always had problems with getting them done before he was attacked but he had figured out an ulterior method.
Darkness filled a room, it was lit only by the light of a few wax candles. In the center of this room, on a cover as red as the blood that was in a large bowl in front of him, sat a man. His head was bowed and his fingers flexed as he took a fine paintbrush and dipped it into the bowl. It flipped backward as he began to draw a large chain with a wickedly sharp and curved blade on the left side of his back with his right hand. It was extremely detailed and well drawn, even though the man could not see what he was doing. As soon as he finished, he switched hands, and repeated the process on the right side of his back. The chains completed, he sat straight up, and while allowing them to dry, started on making the hundreds of drawings on his arms, starting with his shoulder and working his way down. They were so fine that it seemed like the man had been diced with a thousand shards of glass. The one thing that was bad about his powers. Each chain was a one time usage deal. He sat lotus style allowing the chains to dry and congeal in their patterns. This is the way he would sleep, he would walk without bending his back or using his arms. He needed them all and could not have a single design ruined. One single flake of blood lost and that was one weak link on his chain and he couldn't trust that in battle.
So here that man stood, surrounded in battle, with a smile of confidence that confused each man that stood near. Slowly tiny little chains began to slip out from his skin. One for each of the men. They smiled..they laughed. Such tiny little things! What was there to be afraid of? Right? ...Wrong. Each laugh was cut off with a gurgling of breath as each of the tiny little chains grew, revealing jagged blades at the end that severed each throat mercilessly. He turned around, short eight patterns on his arms, but he had much more in store. After the chains had been used, they disappeared back into his skin. That section clear and clean as if he had never drawn on it with blood.
He turned around, leaving their body's to rot where they lay. "You have picked the wrong man, the wrong school.. hell.. the wrong town to pick on." He said, spitting on one dead man as he walked by. "You all deserve to die, and I am honored to bring you your death!" He said loudly, attracting the attention of several more men. One after the other, again and again, he killed, until he passed by someone he had met earlier. She had the power to stop time. Stop time and yet she did nothing. The injustice made D.'s blood boil. "Witch." He muttered, extending one chain that burst from his palm, and killed her on the spot. "Traitor's will be spared no more than the attackers." He turned then heading to help people that needed it.
* * * * *
"OOmmph!"
The air escaped from his lungs in a hurry as he was punched in the gut. "Not a very nice person!" He whispered as he struggled to get his breath back. He grabbed the man by the throat and hauled him around, picking him up, and tossing him to the ground. "My powers aren't all that I have, Ignorant." He said, showing off the large muscles in his arm. He left the man there, as he had much more interesting things to take care of. He had never gotten to exercise his powers like this and he found he was having fun. He ran into a group of people, standing behind the school, trying to figure out a way to infiltrate it when someone recognized they were not alone. They all turned around slowly and stared.
Devon had blood splattered on his face, and as he wiped it off with his thumb, his tongue flicked out of his full lips to taste it on his skin. "Hmm.." He said, a look of pure ecstasy on his face as he did so, leaving a thick trail of blood across his cheek. It seemed to make his eyes blaze and as it dried began to match the color of his hair. His white shirt was now stained with the blood of almost all of the men he had killed and his khaki's didn't look much better. He stood his ground, staring at the men, as the hand he had used to wipe his face came up and turned over, palm up. He extended and flexed all of his fingers in a quick motion, telling them to come on. "Bring it on.." He said in a deadly tone as he was surprised one of them.
He had blond hair, and silver eyes, almost matching those of Devon himself. He merely looked up, amused at Devon's attempt at bravery. "Come on.. Is that all you have brought to this fight?" He said, standing up straight. He strode forward, giving Devon a glance over. "Not too shabby I might say..But hardly anything to be proud of." He said simply, shrugging and turning back to the group as if D. had never even shown up. "Bad move, yo." D. said as one of the large chains on his back grew, so large in fact that it resembled a wing, the blade making up what would have been feathers. It slammed down on the ground, demanding the man's undivided attention. Clint Hartless turned back around, one eyebrow raised in exaggeration of his annoyance at being interrupted. "Yes?" He said softly, only eying the blade for a moment before turning a nonchalant look back to D.
His carelessness only served to aggravate D. who immediately swung the chain, with its enlarged blade straight at Clint, who dodged it with seeming ease. " A gifted?! On their side?!" D. yelled in complete disbelief. "You are worse than they are, traitor!" He yelled, extending the other chain and blade on his left shoulder blade and swinging it at Clint as well. Clint sidestepped them easily. "The name is Heartless thank you very much and you would do well to remember that." He said, eying the new found threat.
"My name is D. You would do well to die!" He screamed, swinging both blades from his back, and just as Clint was about to say something about it being monotonous, he stepped right into the path of a smaller, less noticeable chain, that ripped through his side. He looked down, pale now, looking at the tear of skin. "How rude." He said looking up, just as he fell over. " Rude just doesn't cover it." D. muttered as he looked back and saw that Clint's little group had fled during the fight.
Darkness filled a room, it was lit only by the light of a few wax candles. In the center of this room, on a cover as red as the blood that was in a large bowl in front of him, sat a man. His head was bowed and his fingers flexed as he took a fine paintbrush and dipped it into the bowl. It flipped backward as he began to draw a large chain with a wickedly sharp and curved blade on the left side of his back with his right hand. It was extremely detailed and well drawn, even though the man could not see what he was doing. As soon as he finished, he switched hands, and repeated the process on the right side of his back. The chains completed, he sat straight up, and while allowing them to dry, started on making the hundreds of drawings on his arms, starting with his shoulder and working his way down. They were so fine that it seemed like the man had been diced with a thousand shards of glass. The one thing that was bad about his powers. Each chain was a one time usage deal. He sat lotus style allowing the chains to dry and congeal in their patterns. This is the way he would sleep, he would walk without bending his back or using his arms. He needed them all and could not have a single design ruined. One single flake of blood lost and that was one weak link on his chain and he couldn't trust that in battle.
So here that man stood, surrounded in battle, with a smile of confidence that confused each man that stood near. Slowly tiny little chains began to slip out from his skin. One for each of the men. They smiled..they laughed. Such tiny little things! What was there to be afraid of? Right? ...Wrong. Each laugh was cut off with a gurgling of breath as each of the tiny little chains grew, revealing jagged blades at the end that severed each throat mercilessly. He turned around, short eight patterns on his arms, but he had much more in store. After the chains had been used, they disappeared back into his skin. That section clear and clean as if he had never drawn on it with blood.
He turned around, leaving their body's to rot where they lay. "You have picked the wrong man, the wrong school.. hell.. the wrong town to pick on." He said, spitting on one dead man as he walked by. "You all deserve to die, and I am honored to bring you your death!" He said loudly, attracting the attention of several more men. One after the other, again and again, he killed, until he passed by someone he had met earlier. She had the power to stop time. Stop time and yet she did nothing. The injustice made D.'s blood boil. "Witch." He muttered, extending one chain that burst from his palm, and killed her on the spot. "Traitor's will be spared no more than the attackers." He turned then heading to help people that needed it.
* * * * *
"OOmmph!"
The air escaped from his lungs in a hurry as he was punched in the gut. "Not a very nice person!" He whispered as he struggled to get his breath back. He grabbed the man by the throat and hauled him around, picking him up, and tossing him to the ground. "My powers aren't all that I have, Ignorant." He said, showing off the large muscles in his arm. He left the man there, as he had much more interesting things to take care of. He had never gotten to exercise his powers like this and he found he was having fun. He ran into a group of people, standing behind the school, trying to figure out a way to infiltrate it when someone recognized they were not alone. They all turned around slowly and stared.
Devon had blood splattered on his face, and as he wiped it off with his thumb, his tongue flicked out of his full lips to taste it on his skin. "Hmm.." He said, a look of pure ecstasy on his face as he did so, leaving a thick trail of blood across his cheek. It seemed to make his eyes blaze and as it dried began to match the color of his hair. His white shirt was now stained with the blood of almost all of the men he had killed and his khaki's didn't look much better. He stood his ground, staring at the men, as the hand he had used to wipe his face came up and turned over, palm up. He extended and flexed all of his fingers in a quick motion, telling them to come on. "Bring it on.." He said in a deadly tone as he was surprised one of them.
He had blond hair, and silver eyes, almost matching those of Devon himself. He merely looked up, amused at Devon's attempt at bravery. "Come on.. Is that all you have brought to this fight?" He said, standing up straight. He strode forward, giving Devon a glance over. "Not too shabby I might say..But hardly anything to be proud of." He said simply, shrugging and turning back to the group as if D. had never even shown up. "Bad move, yo." D. said as one of the large chains on his back grew, so large in fact that it resembled a wing, the blade making up what would have been feathers. It slammed down on the ground, demanding the man's undivided attention. Clint Hartless turned back around, one eyebrow raised in exaggeration of his annoyance at being interrupted. "Yes?" He said softly, only eying the blade for a moment before turning a nonchalant look back to D.
His carelessness only served to aggravate D. who immediately swung the chain, with its enlarged blade straight at Clint, who dodged it with seeming ease. " A gifted?! On their side?!" D. yelled in complete disbelief. "You are worse than they are, traitor!" He yelled, extending the other chain and blade on his left shoulder blade and swinging it at Clint as well. Clint sidestepped them easily. "The name is Heartless thank you very much and you would do well to remember that." He said, eying the new found threat.
"My name is D. You would do well to die!" He screamed, swinging both blades from his back, and just as Clint was about to say something about it being monotonous, he stepped right into the path of a smaller, less noticeable chain, that ripped through his side. He looked down, pale now, looking at the tear of skin. "How rude." He said looking up, just as he fell over. " Rude just doesn't cover it." D. muttered as he looked back and saw that Clint's little group had fled during the fight.
