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Roleplay Boards => Archived Roleplays => Climax Control Archives => Topic started by: Brother Grimm on April 21, 2017, 07:38:53 PM
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Romania ...
1640
The Carpathian Mountains. A familiar view on the topic of this one, a place where one might suggest his first true defeat had come to pass. Or rather, where it had originated. Five years would yet pass before the battle of Clan Dalca against the Pale One, where a special babe was used as bait to lure him in, and where the sacrifice borne of love allowed the Clan's matriarch, an elderly gypsy known as Nadya, put the final nail in the proverbial coffin and sealed Him away for the next three hundred plus years. Yet some wonder how they knew?
How did thirteen brave yet abysmally mortal Romani know what to do to cast the Boogey Man away from the mortal coil and into a prison that they should not have been capable of erecting? Simple. They had help. From whom? Oh if they only knew...
The night had fallen, and twilight was at hand. This was hundreds of years before the lights of a metropolis would drown out the stars from the eyes of those that revered them far below. During these times, at this day and age, many folk would gaze up at the stars and marvel at the heavenly wonders -- that is, of course, were they not locked behind closed doors. For with the night came the unbridled terrors within. The undead walked at night, as did many manner of creature that survived the centuries against mankind. Species that saw us as not just enemies, but also food.
One such brave soul stood at the base of the Carpathians, just outside of the village perimeters. An outsider had contacted him, and told him he was aware of the desire to hunt a certain 'creature of the night,' and he could help him. How? He did not say. But the threat had been real since the dawn of time, and his Clan was prepared to make the necessary sacrifices to end the threat for good. Nicolai of the Alexander Clan, watched and waited since dusk, and just as he was about to return to the path that would lead him home, he was startled by the voice behind him.
"I was unsure whether you would show."
Nicolai cursed and spun about, his hand reaching for his pocket that sheathed a nasty looking blade, but paused. Beneath his hood, the man was beautiful to the point of being achingly so. His golden ringlets of curls framed his face, and he wore simple clothes, much like Nicolai himself wore.
Nicolai looked him over and could not help but feel the stirrings of desire, despite the fact he would be seeing his soul mate Andrei in mere days if this panned out. He swallowed hard and bit back on his primal urges to ask, "Are you from a neighboring village?"
"No." The stranger answered. "I'm from a place much farther away."
"Then what are you...?" Nicolai started to ask but was interrupted by the stranger. "I only heard of you and your's goal, and knew I perhaps had the key to your success."
"The key ... to lock the Pale One away?"
The stranger nodded. "Indeed."
Nicolai asked in wonder, "Then why did you not come forth sooner? Lives would have been spared."
"You must understand...." The stranger started to say. "I was once a warrior, just as you are now. Though sadly those times are now long since past. Now, I do better work behind the scenes, you might say."
"Long since ... but you are so young!"
"You flatter me." The stranger smiled, the held out a scroll that looked ready to fall to pieces, ancient as it was. "Here."
"What is this?" Nicolai asked as he took the scroll into his hand with much hesitation.
The stranger answered, "As I said; a key."
"To what?"
The stranger smiled. "A cage."
Nicolai looked at the scroll, then back to the man standing before him. "I can not convince you to fight at our side?" He asked.
"Alas no." The stranger shook his head. "I have done my part. The rest now is up to you and your family."
Nicolai looked again to the scroll and felt for the first time in what seemed forever, perhaps a sense of hope. He nodded his thanks and turned away from the stranger and started to hurry back down the dark path that would lead him to his village, as well as his compatriots. Only then did the stranger shift and he smiled genuinely, but with a hint of malice.
"Now old friend ... we are even."
"And in the beginning, the Lord God said 'Let there be light!'"
A soft chuckling filled the darkness. A sucking noise, as air through teeth, was heard next and the soft sigh of contentment.
"I never do get tired of hearing that story. It's amusing at best to sit back and see the tripe that the Christian cattle believe in that little word they like to refer to as 'faith.' They believe these tales of old, told from the insane babbling of a man that climbed a mountain and returned with etchings on stone tablets. To the enlightened mind, one might be able to poke holes through every facet of these stories told in the most holy of writings. And if there is anything that I consider myself, it is enlightened. Think of it now as I did then. For hundreds of years, these tales were told by word of mouth, and we all know what the end result is of stories when told from mouth to ear by the millions. Details are embellished, and stories become legends. Why, some might even stress the point that were it not for a simple Emperor, your Christianity would not even be as prevalent as it now is."
There was just enough light for the black lips to be seen in the dim shadows. They pursed together and blew gently onto the wick of the tall, pillar candle and it smoked gently at first, and then flickered to life. A single candle flame danced at the tip, and the creeping shadows illuminated the pale face and amber colored eyes. He smiled gently, but it was not the sort of smile that would calm the average onlooker, nor would it charm any despite the general appeal of his visage. No, this was the type of smile that unnerved some and curdled the blood of many. His white fingers ran up the shaft of the candle, wax slowly ebbing down the sides and drifting across his pale flesh. His hand then stopped, just a hair's width over the flame that cast dancing shadows along the surfaces of his surroundings.
"To everything there is a beginning, to even the Judeo Lord. Granted, He is not talking and sharing his secrets as to His origins and how He came to be. Had He birth parents, much like the ancient Gods of old? Were His parents, in fact, the Ancient Ones of Old? Or were His beginnings more sinister in nature, and did He crawl as I did from out of the depths of the Primordial Darkness? This, the light, it was only the third creation to come into existence. God, Himself, was the first."
"What then, was the second? What was the most ancient of God's creations, his deepest and darkest of regrets?"
He smiled once again.
"Why, me of course. I would make mention of Death, but God did not create that troublesome entity, and neither of them are able to recall which of them is truly the older of the two any longer. But I digress. From the darkness came the light, and from the light emerged the first of the shadows. As wise as His followers like to think of Him, I would like to believe that He knew not what he was doing when I first came forth. Because if He did, if He knew then what I would be capable of where His beloved mankind was concerned, it would only serve as further notice that He was not as Wise as you might be led to believe. Fear was my motivator then, as it is now. The trick is, after so long, finding new and amusing ways to make the blood run cold through your veins. We are no longer in the times when the favorites of God dallied in Eden, taking simple pleasures in beast and mankind. When the blue skies grayed fir the first time, and that first crack of lightning danced down from the Heavens over their heads, I remember fondly the terror in the eyes of the first couple, man and woman. They had never seen its like, and suffice to say they did not like it. They attempted to hide but without success, as they knew nothing of shelter from the storm. All they could do was watch the animals they loved so, run from the heavy rains and booming thunder. The lightning seared many in the garden that first time, and God mourned their losses. As did the couple."
"Those were the days."
"Which brings us, to the present, and an old but familiar face in Nicolas Blair."
Grimm shook his head in mock disbelief and glanced upward as if in contemplative thought.
"How many names over the eons have you went by, Mister Blair? Morning Star? Satan? The Dragon? Beelzebub? So many names, so many lifetimes ago. I look back fondly on our first moments together, and often wonder if they are lost to you in this new day and age."
The favored son of the Lord stood at the gates that led into the innermost center of the Garden of Eden, and more specifically, to the Tree. Lucifer watched in a peaked sense of interest and wonder as the First Born husband and wife played with the animals that roamed the inner circle of the Garden, while the more dangerous beast roamed on the outside. Tall beasts, lizards of sorts, that towered over trees and were kept from entering the Garden only by the machinations of he himself. As the favored son of the Lord, it was his worn duty to protect God's favorites from the beasts. And the ones that could fly, were kept from entering by Lucifer's most loyal of followers. Soldiers that served under him.
They were curiosities, this Adam and this Eve. Naked and ... what was the word deep in the recesses of his mind that he wanted to use to describe these ... creatures, made in God's own image? A word that would be an abomination to the ears of his Father?
"Inferior...." The blackened lips whispered into the ear of the Morningstar.
And thus the fall had begun.
"And now we meet at this, the nation's capitol in this farce of a Memorial. Old friends, I should like to think, but a part of me wonders if you have yet to forgive me for what I had caused. A bit of play on my part. To sit back and watch what chaos could be wrought from a single, hushed word... it was exquisite. Now I can hardly deny my part in the tapestry of your fall, but a piece of me yet condemns you for being unable to make your own decision. I simply ..."
He shrugged.
"... brought your doubts to the surface where they were allowed to flourish. I spoke the word you dared not. I pointed out what you already knew, and I encouraged you somewhat to act on your own choices. A cardinal sin, for your Father. For you to have your own mind, your own decisions."
He shook his head and clucked his tongue in a 'tsk, tsk' manner, mocking his male opposition.
"When you look at things that way, you really only have yourself to blame, don't you? I mean, it wasn't as if I forced you to confront your Father and refuse to revere the mud monkeys on bended knee. I know personally I wouldn't. It's why I take such joy in reveling in their fear. Stealing their children away and drinking in their despair. And speaking of despair, you provided quite the banquet yourself when you were cast down into the fiery cauldrons of Hell. When you gazed upward and finally realized the folly of what you had done. The horror as you looked about you and watched at what your angelic brothers and sisters were turned into, while you yet remained perfect. Demonized. Their Grace twisted and mangled, and you understood in that one moment that it was all entirely your fault."
He looked away and sighed.
"Now that was a feast to be savored. Never before had I felt so satisfied. Sad, really. After so many lifetimes, to know that I had peaked far too soon with that one, simple act. One day you must tell me of the expression on your Father's face when He saw what you had done, and the moment He knew what it was that He had to do."
He again shook his head but this time chuckled brazenly.
"It must have been quite the sight! Ha ha ha! And now we find you here, in the same arena as I! Your most recent encounter before this tournament being your much hyped encounter with the one known as "Hot Stuff" Mark Ward! A loss, true, but you more than made up for it when you were paired with Jessie Salco. A match made in heaven, the two of you. Oh..."
He brought his fingers up and the tips covered his mouth as if he felt he had been caught saying something he ought not to have said.
"... you'll have to excuse me. I said 'Heaven' where you were concerned. That must bring back harsh memories. My apologies."
He smiled, showing his words were anything BUT sincere.
"So consider this then, your chance to get even. You knew it was me that planted the fear of discontent deep in your breast, and I imagine you have longed for an eternity for the chance to get even with me. Well!"
Grimm spread his arms and the red lights over the wrestling ring at the Bender Arena turned on, illuminating the six-sided ring.
"Here then lies your chance to right a wrong committed against you so long ago! Good luck Nicolas Blair. Make the most of this opportunity against me, because I know for certain that I will be doing the same. I want to see if there is any way when we meet, to match the sweet sense of fear and despair that you gifted me with so very long ago. The despair you will feel when you understand you let your partner down, and you will once again be cast into oblivion."
He smirked and tilted his head back and eyes upward.
"And you, Jessie Salco. Our first chance meeting, and you have your tag team partner to thank."
He looked back into the camera and made a pouting face.
"Aw. I will understand if you decide not to thank Nicolas. I wouldn't either if I were in your shoes. But you have little enough to fear from me, besides the obvious I mean. After all, the powers-that-be do not allow intergender violence, so my hands will not so much as touch you. But the end result of your impending loss -- that is what you have to fear. Nicolas will not prevail when inside of the ring against me. As it was before, so shall it be again. And you forget..."
Grimm extends his arm and picks up an 8x10 glossy photograph of SCW Hall of Famer Misty. He takes a gander at it with disinterested eyes, then holds it up for the camera to focus upon.
"I have a partner of my own to deal with you, and she is clearly your superior in every way. You see, Misty knows my interests still lie with her family, and so long as she keeps me occupied in this event, then my free time is not so much. So long as we win, she knows I will have little time to pay her darling son a visit amidst his protectors. Though that would be a tantalizing treat of an adventure all unto itself. Misty -- wants to win because she too holds fear deep in her heart. A fear that we will lose and thus her children once again become vulnerable to me. And a fear ... of inadequacy."
"Misty fears no longer being important. She fears people no longer looking toward her with admiration in their eyes. A fear of no longer being -- relevant. It is a sad thing, in fact, but a subtle fear that will propel her further and force her to fight even harder. Good for me..."
He shook his head and smiled.
"Not so much for you."
The lights were again expunged, and only Grimm's amber eyes were seen in the pitch.
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