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Nightkill the Emperor
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Founded: Dec 28, 2009
Ex-Nation

Postby Nightkill the Emperor » Sat May 10, 2014 9:42 pm

Nationstatelandsville wrote:
In the darkest dark of the dark night sky, there sits on the horizon a palace invisible; and in this place, there is a study lit always by flickering candlelight. This study contains a labyrinth of ancient tomes stacked atop each other - a collection more comprehensive than Alexandria or Lucifer, and all copied by the hands of one diligent monk in a language no one had ever, ever spoken aloud. At the end of the labyrinth is a writing desk, its owner always hunched over it, scratching away on yellowed parchment with a dove's feather. From laughter this author was created, and he has five heads, none of which fit properly. His stomach is large, and in it he holds everything that ever was, ever is, and ever will be, could be, or should be. His fang is broken, but he has another. He was a man, but he was not a man at all.

There was a plume of black, black smoke which snaked up to the desk's side and quietly shifted into a second man; Loki bowed dramatically.

"Ekadanta," he said, "I have a message."

"Fly away, raven," the writer growled, "Fly back to your keeper."

"I am unchained!" Loki laughed, "Free now; and I have a message. There has been a theft."

"I care not."

"No, Ganesh, you don't understand - there has been a theft. A mortal woman sleeps tonight in the lion's den."

Ganesh looked up from his scroll, "This is impossible."

"Evidently not," Loki smirked.

"We must stop this!" he roared, rising from his stool.

Loki placed his hand on the chest of the twenty-handed, "There is nothing we can do."

"But we must!" Ganesh spat.

"But," Loki sighed, "we can't. We can only hope he kills her swiftly."



William looked out his window at the babbling brook and took a very stiff drink.

"Ah," he smacked his lips, "Shit."

They were dancing; he couldn't stand to see them do that. They always wanted him to join them.

"You see them?" asked the other man, whose name had slipped William's mind. "Al" something.

"Don't you?" William grumbled, "Don't answer that, I already know you don't. Maybe I'm just crazy; or maybe they're just playing with me. But they sing to me, all night, all night. And whenever I go near he- don't look at me like that!"

"Hmm?" Al inquired.

"Pity," William sighed, "It's always pity."

"I suppose I have some human left in me," shrugged Al, "To be honest, I hadn't noticed. Listen - what you're seeing is real, I promise you that."

"Ha!" William laughed spitefully, "All the more proof against it, then. You call yourself a 'wizard'. I know they told you I'm superstitious, but I'm not stupid."

"Well, they're not real, exactly," Al corrected himself, "Not in our sense. They're real somewhere else - you're just seeing them. The power of prophecy; a curse I've never had, but I know some who do. Drinking helps."

"Welcome to Ireland."

"What you're seeing is another world, William" Al explained, "A world we like to pretend doesn't exist."

"There are other worlds," William said, "They eat them."

"We know."

"They take people."

"We know that, too."

"They took Georges."

Al hesitated, "We know. There's nothing we can do."

"Then get the fuck out."

Like a ghost of a thought, Al was gone. William drank long into the night.

Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand.
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.




Molly sat in an empty banquet hall, at an empty table, before an empty plate. Long away stretched the table, ending at a throne; unoccupied. She was a fine young woman; like a doll. She loved to laugh.

She was laughing not too long ago, and dancing.

They had been dancing first, you see; around a ring of mushrooms, laughing like she did. They asked - she answered. For an eternity, they danced together, a fairy-ring; 'til her feet were bloodied and her ankles swollen, 'til her heart gave. Then there was a flash of light, and she knew she was dead. This was just a detour.

Molly didn't laugh anymore. She should've known, but no one told fairy stories anymore.

There was hurried footsteps down stone stairs and old hinges creaking open; entered two kings in yellow. They were pale creatures, wretched in their beauty, and smug in their kill. They raised horns to their perfect red lips and blew triumphantly; together they summoned the King of Kings, these goblins, these elves.

Slowly he entered - a tall man, with piercing hawk's eyes and the nobility of the eagle. His expression was a silent and weathered stone, a gravestone perhaps. He was old, yes, but he was handsome; a human handsomeness, not like the twisted beauty of these bloodthirsty sprites. He wore a simple tunic, brown, but a cape blossomed out of it, a flurry of reds and browns and yellows.

The Autumn King entered the room, with a chill; but nonetheless, Molly smiled at him. She couldn't help it.

"Madame," his voice like smooth milk, "I apologize for keeping you waiting. It will not happen again, I assure you. I ask you only forgive an old man's vanity!"

Molly smiled, "I do."

"Excellent!" he cheered. He marched up to the young girl and touched her chin gently; silver claws cut into her flesh and drew the slightest bit of blood as he tilted her head and placed his blue lips, pulsating with maggots, onto her cheeks, leaving black bile upon them. She didn't notice it, only the warm feeling which filled her heart, her stomach, and her loins.

With that, he resumed his throne, across the table from her. No food was eaten - neither were hungry. For a long while, they simply stared at each other.

"Madame," the King said, taking a sharp breath, "I feel you are at a disadvantage; I know your name, but you do not know mine. I am called Oberon."

"I'm Molly," she said.

"I know," Oberon replied.

"Oh," she giggled.

"I want to ask you some questions about your home."

A sense of danger suddenly overcame Molly, "My h-home? Wh-why?"

"You are a student of Elfen High in the year 2014, no?" Oberon asked."

"Well, yes, sir, oh yes," Molly nodded, "but why? It's just a private school."

"No," Oberon shook his head, "it is not. That is where I might find Yahweh's son, is it not? You call him 'Crowley'?"

"Yes," Molly frowned, "but what's this about Crowley for? He's an angry old pervert."

Oberon sighed, "So my soldiers think as well, but no son of that bastard is without his tricks. One is enough hell to deal with."

"What do you mean?"

Oberon rolled his eyes, "Do they teach you nothing at that school? Most likely, actually. Ignorant apes."

Molly frowned even deeper, "I don't know... I don't know if I'm going to answer any more questions."

There was laughter, like a bag of air being drawn across a bed of nails; a dusty laugh.

"Yes, you are," the King said.

"Or what?"

"Or," Oberon smiled, "I will pull your intestines out through your nostril and fuck with you them."

Molly blinked.

The Fae nodded, "Right. I'll do this the difficult way; I was hoping very much I would have to!"

Molly screamed.

Oberon licked blood from his fingers and picked a piece of bone from his teeth. He silently noted he would a new pair of boots.

"I didn't notice you come in," he said.

"My liege," his lieutenant said, bowing - Oberon always got a kick out of that, "Ganesh knows what happened here."

"Doesn't mater," answered the King of the Fae, "Our attack begins soon."

"But, sir - are we really ready?"

"They aren't; no one tells fairy stories anymore."

With a horrible sloshing sound, Oberon turned on his heels and walked towards his next appointment; unlike his cousins, he walked everywhere. It gave him time to think.

You've gotten two oneshots with Ireland this morning.

We're working hard on setting up Ireland as a dangerous villain.
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Constaniana
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Posts: 25073
Founded: Mar 10, 2012
Democratic Socialists

Postby Constaniana » Sat May 10, 2014 9:43 pm

Nationstatelandsville wrote:
In the darkest dark of the dark night sky, there sits on the horizon a palace invisible; and in this place, there is a study lit always by flickering candlelight. This study contains a labyrinth of ancient tomes stacked atop each other - a collection more comprehensive than Alexandria or Lucifer, and all copied by the hands of one diligent monk in a language no one had ever, ever spoken aloud. At the end of the labyrinth is a writing desk, its owner always hunched over it, scratching away on yellowed parchment with a dove's feather. From laughter this author was created, and he has five heads, none of which fit properly. His stomach is large, and in it he holds everything that ever was, ever is, and ever will be, could be, or should be. His fang is broken, but he has another. He was a man, but he was not a man at all.

There was a plume of black, black smoke which snaked up to the desk's side and quietly shifted into a second man; Loki bowed dramatically.

"Ekadanta," he said, "I have a message."

"Fly away, raven," the writer growled, "Fly back to your keeper."

"I am unchained!" Loki laughed, "Free now; and I have a message. There has been a theft."

"I care not."

"No, Ganesh, you don't understand - there has been a theft. A mortal woman sleeps tonight in the lion's den."

Ganesh looked up from his scroll, "This is impossible."

"Evidently not," Loki smirked.

"We must stop this!" he roared, rising from his stool.

Loki placed his hand on the chest of the twenty-handed, "There is nothing we can do."

"But we must!" Ganesh spat.

"But," Loki sighed, "we can't. We can only hope he kills her swiftly."



William looked out his window at the babbling brook and took a very stiff drink.

"Ah," he smacked his lips, "Shit."

They were dancing; he couldn't stand to see them do that. They always wanted him to join them.

"You see them?" asked the other man, whose name had slipped William's mind. "Al" something.

"Don't you?" William grumbled, "Don't answer that, I already know you don't. Maybe I'm just crazy; or maybe they're just playing with me. But they sing to me, all night, all night. And whenever I go near he- don't look at me like that!"

"Hmm?" Al inquired.

"Pity," William sighed, "It's always pity."

"I suppose I have some human left in me," shrugged Al, "To be honest, I hadn't noticed. Listen - what you're seeing is real, I promise you that."

"Ha!" William laughed spitefully, "All the more proof against it, then. You call yourself a 'wizard'. I know they told you I'm superstitious, but I'm not stupid."

"Well, they're not real, exactly," Al corrected himself, "Not in our sense. They're real somewhere else - you're just seeing them. The power of prophecy; a curse I've never had, but I know some who do. Drinking helps."

"Welcome to Ireland."

"What you're seeing is another world, William" Al explained, "A world we like to pretend doesn't exist."

"There are other worlds," William said, "They eat them."

"We know."

"They take people."

"We know that, too."

"They took Georges."

Al hesitated, "We know. There's nothing we can do."

"Then get the fuck out."

Like a ghost of a thought, Al was gone. William drank long into the night.

Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand.
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.




Molly sat in an empty banquet hall, at an empty table, before an empty plate. Long away stretched the table, ending at a throne; unoccupied. She was a fine young woman; like a doll. She loved to laugh.

She was laughing not too long ago, and dancing.

They had been dancing first, you see; around a ring of mushrooms, laughing like she did. They asked - she answered. For an eternity, they danced together, a fairy-ring; 'til her feet were bloodied and her ankles swollen, 'til her heart gave. Then there was a flash of light, and she knew she was dead. This was just a detour.

Molly didn't laugh anymore. She should've known, but no one told fairy stories anymore.

There was hurried footsteps down stone stairs and old hinges creaking open; entered two kings in yellow. They were pale creatures, wretched in their beauty, and smug in their kill. They raised horns to their perfect red lips and blew triumphantly; together they summoned the King of Kings, these goblins, these elves.

Slowly he entered - a tall man, with piercing hawk's eyes and the nobility of the eagle. His expression was a silent and weathered stone, a gravestone perhaps. He was old, yes, but he was handsome; a human handsomeness, not like the twisted beauty of these bloodthirsty sprites. He wore a simple tunic, brown, but a cape blossomed out of it, a flurry of reds and browns and yellows.

The Autumn King entered the room, with a chill; but nonetheless, Molly smiled at him. She couldn't help it.

"Madame," his voice like smooth milk, "I apologize for keeping you waiting. It will not happen again, I assure you. I ask you only forgive an old man's vanity!"

Molly smiled, "I do."

"Excellent!" he cheered. He marched up to the young girl and touched her chin gently; silver claws cut into her flesh and drew the slightest bit of blood as he tilted her head and placed his blue lips, pulsating with maggots, onto her cheeks, leaving black bile upon them. She didn't notice it, only the warm feeling which filled her heart, her stomach, and her loins.

With that, he resumed his throne, across the table from her. No food was eaten - neither were hungry. For a long while, they simply stared at each other.

"Madame," the King said, taking a sharp breath, "I feel you are at a disadvantage; I know your name, but you do not know mine. I am called Oberon."

"I'm Molly," she said.

"I know," Oberon replied.

"Oh," she giggled.

"I want to ask you some questions about your home."

A sense of danger suddenly overcame Molly, "My h-home? Wh-why?"

"You are a student of Elfen High in the year 2014, no?" Oberon asked."

"Well, yes, sir, oh yes," Molly nodded, "but why? It's just a private school."

"No," Oberon shook his head, "it is not. That is where I might find Yahweh's son, is it not? You call him 'Crowley'?"

"Yes," Molly frowned, "but what's this about Crowley for? He's an angry old pervert."

Oberon sighed, "So my soldiers think as well, but no son of that bastard is without his tricks. One is enough hell to deal with."

"What do you mean?"

Oberon rolled his eyes, "Do they teach you nothing at that school? Most likely, actually. Ignorant apes."

Molly frowned even deeper, "I don't know... I don't know if I'm going to answer any more questions."

There was laughter, like a bag of air being drawn across a bed of nails; a dusty laugh.

"Yes, you are," the King said.

"Or what?"

"Or," Oberon smiled, "I will pull your intestines out through your nostril and fuck with you them."

Molly blinked.

The Fae nodded, "Right. I'll do this the difficult way; I was hoping very much I would have to!"

Molly screamed.

Oberon licked blood from his fingers and picked a piece of bone from his teeth. He silently noted he would a new pair of boots.

"I didn't notice you come in," he said.

"My liege," his lieutenant said, bowing - Oberon always got a kick out of that, "Ganesh knows what happened here."

"Doesn't mater," answered the King of the Fae, "Our attack begins soon."

"But, sir - are we really ready?"

"They aren't; no one tells fairy stories anymore."

With a horrible sloshing sound, Oberon turned on his heels and walked towards his next appointment; unlike his cousins, he walked everywhere. It gave him time to think.

Cool.
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I have the oddest of feelings this is my fault somehow.
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Astrolinium
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Posts: 36596
Founded: Mar 05, 2011
Scandinavian Liberal Paradise

Postby Astrolinium » Sat May 10, 2014 9:45 pm

Do we already have an actor we've decided that Oberon looks like?

I can't see him as anything but Lee Pace.
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Nationstatelandsville
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Posts: 70969
Founded: Apr 27, 2011
Ex-Nation

Postby Nationstatelandsville » Sat May 10, 2014 9:46 pm

Astrolinium wrote:Do we already have an actor we've decided that Oberon looks like?

I can't see him as anything but Lee Pace.

Yes, we have.
"Then I was fertilized and grew wise;
From a word to a word I was led to a word,
From a work to a work I was led to a work."
- Odin, Hávamál 138-141, the Poetic Edda, as translated by Dan McCoy.

I enjoy meta-humor and self-deprecation. Annoying, right?

Goodbye.

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Nationstatelandsville
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Posts: 70969
Founded: Apr 27, 2011
Ex-Nation

Postby Nationstatelandsville » Sat May 10, 2014 9:47 pm

Anyways, Oberon is old.

Like, fucking old.
"Then I was fertilized and grew wise;
From a word to a word I was led to a word,
From a work to a work I was led to a work."
- Odin, Hávamál 138-141, the Poetic Edda, as translated by Dan McCoy.

I enjoy meta-humor and self-deprecation. Annoying, right?

Goodbye.

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Constaniana
Postmaster of the Fleet
 
Posts: 25073
Founded: Mar 10, 2012
Democratic Socialists

Postby Constaniana » Sat May 10, 2014 9:47 pm

Nationstatelandsville wrote:
In the darkest dark of the dark night sky, there sits on the horizon a palace invisible; and in this place, there is a study lit always by flickering candlelight. This study contains a labyrinth of ancient tomes stacked atop each other - a collection more comprehensive than Alexandria or Lucifer, and all copied by the hands of one diligent monk in a language no one had ever, ever spoken aloud. At the end of the labyrinth is a writing desk, its owner always hunched over it, scratching away on yellowed parchment with a dove's feather. From laughter this author was created, and he has five heads, none of which fit properly. His stomach is large, and in it he holds everything that ever was, ever is, and ever will be, could be, or should be. His fang is broken, but he has another. He was a man, but he was not a man at all.

There was a plume of black, black smoke which snaked up to the desk's side and quietly shifted into a second man; Loki bowed dramatically.

"Ekadanta," he said, "I have a message."

"Fly away, raven," the writer growled, "Fly back to your keeper."

"I am unchained!" Loki laughed, "Free now; and I have a message. There has been a theft."

"I care not."

"No, Ganesh, you don't understand - there has been a theft. A mortal woman sleeps tonight in the lion's den."

Ganesh looked up from his scroll, "This is impossible."

"Evidently not," Loki smirked.

"We must stop this!" he roared, rising from his stool.

Loki placed his hand on the chest of the twenty-handed, "There is nothing we can do."

"But we must!" Ganesh spat.

"But," Loki sighed, "we can't. We can only hope he kills her swiftly."



William looked out his window at the babbling brook and took a very stiff drink.

"Ah," he smacked his lips, "Shit."

They were dancing; he couldn't stand to see them do that. They always wanted him to join them.

"You see them?" asked the other man, whose name had slipped William's mind. "Al" something.

"Don't you?" William grumbled, "Don't answer that, I already know you don't. Maybe I'm just crazy; or maybe they're just playing with me. But they sing to me, all night, all night. And whenever I go near he- don't look at me like that!"

"Hmm?" Al inquired.

"Pity," William sighed, "It's always pity."

"I suppose I have some human left in me," shrugged Al, "To be honest, I hadn't noticed. Listen - what you're seeing is real, I promise you that."

"Ha!" William laughed spitefully, "All the more proof against it, then. You call yourself a 'wizard'. I know they told you I'm superstitious, but I'm not stupid."

"Well, they're not real, exactly," Al corrected himself, "Not in our sense. They're real somewhere else - you're just seeing them. The power of prophecy; a curse I've never had, but I know some who do. Drinking helps."

"Welcome to Ireland."

"What you're seeing is another world, William" Al explained, "A world we like to pretend doesn't exist."

"There are other worlds," William said, "They eat them."

"We know."

"They take people."

"We know that, too."

"They took Georges."

Al hesitated, "We know. There's nothing we can do."

"Then get the fuck out."

Like a ghost of a thought, Al was gone. William drank long into the night.

Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand.
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.




Molly sat in an empty banquet hall, at an empty table, before an empty plate. Long away stretched the table, ending at a throne; unoccupied. She was a fine young woman; like a doll. She loved to laugh.

She was laughing not too long ago, and dancing.

They had been dancing first, you see; around a ring of mushrooms, laughing like she did. They asked - she answered. For an eternity, they danced together, a fairy-ring; 'til her feet were bloodied and her ankles swollen, 'til her heart gave. Then there was a flash of light, and she knew she was dead. This was just a detour.

Molly didn't laugh anymore. She should've known, but no one told fairy stories anymore.

There was hurried footsteps down stone stairs and old hinges creaking open; entered two kings in yellow. They were pale creatures, wretched in their beauty, and smug in their kill. They raised horns to their perfect red lips and blew triumphantly; together they summoned the King of Kings, these goblins, these elves.

Slowly he entered - a tall man, with piercing hawk's eyes and the nobility of the eagle. His expression was a silent and weathered stone, a gravestone perhaps. He was old, yes, but he was handsome; a human handsomeness, not like the twisted beauty of these bloodthirsty sprites. He wore a simple tunic, brown, but a cape blossomed out of it, a flurry of reds and browns and yellows.

The Autumn King entered the room, with a chill; but nonetheless, Molly smiled at him. She couldn't help it.

"Madame," his voice like smooth milk, "I apologize for keeping you waiting. It will not happen again, I assure you. I ask you only forgive an old man's vanity!"

Molly smiled, "I do."

"Excellent!" he cheered. He marched up to the young girl and touched her chin gently; silver claws cut into her flesh and drew the slightest bit of blood as he tilted her head and placed his blue lips, pulsating with maggots, onto her cheeks, leaving black bile upon them. She didn't notice it, only the warm feeling which filled her heart, her stomach, and her loins.

With that, he resumed his throne, across the table from her. No food was eaten - neither were hungry. For a long while, they simply stared at each other.

"Madame," the King said, taking a sharp breath, "I feel you are at a disadvantage; I know your name, but you do not know mine. I am called Oberon."

"I'm Molly," she said.

"I know," Oberon replied.

"Oh," she giggled.

"I want to ask you some questions about your home."

A sense of danger suddenly overcame Molly, "My h-home? Wh-why?"

"You are a student of Elfen High in the year 2014, no?" Oberon asked."

"Well, yes, sir, oh yes," Molly nodded, "but why? It's just a private school."

"No," Oberon shook his head, "it is not. That is where I might find Yahweh's son, is it not? You call him 'Crowley'?"

"Yes," Molly frowned, "but what's this about Crowley for? He's an angry old pervert."

Oberon sighed, "So my soldiers think as well, but no son of that bastard is without his tricks. One is enough hell to deal with."

"What do you mean?"

Oberon rolled his eyes, "Do they teach you nothing at that school? Most likely, actually. Ignorant apes."

Molly frowned even deeper, "I don't know... I don't know if I'm going to answer any more questions."

There was laughter, like a bag of air being drawn across a bed of nails; a dusty laugh.

"Yes, you are," the King said.

"Or what?"

"Or," Oberon smiled, "I will pull your intestines out through your nostril and fuck with you them."

Molly blinked.

The Fae nodded, "Right. I'll do this the difficult way; I was hoping very much I would have to!"

Molly screamed.

Oberon licked blood from his fingers and picked a piece of bone from his teeth. He silently noted he would a new pair of boots.

"I didn't notice you come in," he said.

"My liege," his lieutenant said, bowing - Oberon always got a kick out of that, "Ganesh knows what happened here."

"Doesn't mater," answered the King of the Fae, "Our attack begins soon."

"But, sir - are we really ready?"

"They aren't; no one tells fairy stories anymore."

With a horrible sloshing sound, Oberon turned on his heels and walked towards his next appointment; unlike his cousins, he walked everywhere. It gave him time to think.

This is definitely in a different world than the one the IC takes place in, correct?
Joe Biden 2020; make aviators great again.
Elementals 3 has arrived!
Agritum wrote:I want to marry you now, my British damsel.
Nightkill the Emperor wrote:You know, I didn't expect you to be the most psychopathic person here.

I have the oddest of feelings this is my fault somehow.
Nightkill the Emperor wrote:I just realised how bizarre Const's existence is.
Cerillium wrote:Const is right.
Zarkenis Ultima wrote:You just cornered a scary indian man with a sword-of-brick-shattering.

Have a cookie.
Winner of the Best High Fantasy RP of P2TM twice in a row Choo Choo

User avatar
Nationstatelandsville
Khan of Spam
 
Posts: 70969
Founded: Apr 27, 2011
Ex-Nation

Postby Nationstatelandsville » Sat May 10, 2014 9:49 pm

Constaniana wrote:
Nationstatelandsville wrote:
In the darkest dark of the dark night sky, there sits on the horizon a palace invisible; and in this place, there is a study lit always by flickering candlelight. This study contains a labyrinth of ancient tomes stacked atop each other - a collection more comprehensive than Alexandria or Lucifer, and all copied by the hands of one diligent monk in a language no one had ever, ever spoken aloud. At the end of the labyrinth is a writing desk, its owner always hunched over it, scratching away on yellowed parchment with a dove's feather. From laughter this author was created, and he has five heads, none of which fit properly. His stomach is large, and in it he holds everything that ever was, ever is, and ever will be, could be, or should be. His fang is broken, but he has another. He was a man, but he was not a man at all.

There was a plume of black, black smoke which snaked up to the desk's side and quietly shifted into a second man; Loki bowed dramatically.

"Ekadanta," he said, "I have a message."

"Fly away, raven," the writer growled, "Fly back to your keeper."

"I am unchained!" Loki laughed, "Free now; and I have a message. There has been a theft."

"I care not."

"No, Ganesh, you don't understand - there has been a theft. A mortal woman sleeps tonight in the lion's den."

Ganesh looked up from his scroll, "This is impossible."

"Evidently not," Loki smirked.

"We must stop this!" he roared, rising from his stool.

Loki placed his hand on the chest of the twenty-handed, "There is nothing we can do."

"But we must!" Ganesh spat.

"But," Loki sighed, "we can't. We can only hope he kills her swiftly."



William looked out his window at the babbling brook and took a very stiff drink.

"Ah," he smacked his lips, "Shit."

They were dancing; he couldn't stand to see them do that. They always wanted him to join them.

"You see them?" asked the other man, whose name had slipped William's mind. "Al" something.

"Don't you?" William grumbled, "Don't answer that, I already know you don't. Maybe I'm just crazy; or maybe they're just playing with me. But they sing to me, all night, all night. And whenever I go near he- don't look at me like that!"

"Hmm?" Al inquired.

"Pity," William sighed, "It's always pity."

"I suppose I have some human left in me," shrugged Al, "To be honest, I hadn't noticed. Listen - what you're seeing is real, I promise you that."

"Ha!" William laughed spitefully, "All the more proof against it, then. You call yourself a 'wizard'. I know they told you I'm superstitious, but I'm not stupid."

"Well, they're not real, exactly," Al corrected himself, "Not in our sense. They're real somewhere else - you're just seeing them. The power of prophecy; a curse I've never had, but I know some who do. Drinking helps."

"Welcome to Ireland."

"What you're seeing is another world, William" Al explained, "A world we like to pretend doesn't exist."

"There are other worlds," William said, "They eat them."

"We know."

"They take people."

"We know that, too."

"They took Georges."

Al hesitated, "We know. There's nothing we can do."

"Then get the fuck out."

Like a ghost of a thought, Al was gone. William drank long into the night.

Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand.
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.




Molly sat in an empty banquet hall, at an empty table, before an empty plate. Long away stretched the table, ending at a throne; unoccupied. She was a fine young woman; like a doll. She loved to laugh.

She was laughing not too long ago, and dancing.

They had been dancing first, you see; around a ring of mushrooms, laughing like she did. They asked - she answered. For an eternity, they danced together, a fairy-ring; 'til her feet were bloodied and her ankles swollen, 'til her heart gave. Then there was a flash of light, and she knew she was dead. This was just a detour.

Molly didn't laugh anymore. She should've known, but no one told fairy stories anymore.

There was hurried footsteps down stone stairs and old hinges creaking open; entered two kings in yellow. They were pale creatures, wretched in their beauty, and smug in their kill. They raised horns to their perfect red lips and blew triumphantly; together they summoned the King of Kings, these goblins, these elves.

Slowly he entered - a tall man, with piercing hawk's eyes and the nobility of the eagle. His expression was a silent and weathered stone, a gravestone perhaps. He was old, yes, but he was handsome; a human handsomeness, not like the twisted beauty of these bloodthirsty sprites. He wore a simple tunic, brown, but a cape blossomed out of it, a flurry of reds and browns and yellows.

The Autumn King entered the room, with a chill; but nonetheless, Molly smiled at him. She couldn't help it.

"Madame," his voice like smooth milk, "I apologize for keeping you waiting. It will not happen again, I assure you. I ask you only forgive an old man's vanity!"

Molly smiled, "I do."

"Excellent!" he cheered. He marched up to the young girl and touched her chin gently; silver claws cut into her flesh and drew the slightest bit of blood as he tilted her head and placed his blue lips, pulsating with maggots, onto her cheeks, leaving black bile upon them. She didn't notice it, only the warm feeling which filled her heart, her stomach, and her loins.

With that, he resumed his throne, across the table from her. No food was eaten - neither were hungry. For a long while, they simply stared at each other.

"Madame," the King said, taking a sharp breath, "I feel you are at a disadvantage; I know your name, but you do not know mine. I am called Oberon."

"I'm Molly," she said.

"I know," Oberon replied.

"Oh," she giggled.

"I want to ask you some questions about your home."

A sense of danger suddenly overcame Molly, "My h-home? Wh-why?"

"You are a student of Elfen High in the year 2014, no?" Oberon asked."

"Well, yes, sir, oh yes," Molly nodded, "but why? It's just a private school."

"No," Oberon shook his head, "it is not. That is where I might find Yahweh's son, is it not? You call him 'Crowley'?"

"Yes," Molly frowned, "but what's this about Crowley for? He's an angry old pervert."

Oberon sighed, "So my soldiers think as well, but no son of that bastard is without his tricks. One is enough hell to deal with."

"What do you mean?"

Oberon rolled his eyes, "Do they teach you nothing at that school? Most likely, actually. Ignorant apes."

Molly frowned even deeper, "I don't know... I don't know if I'm going to answer any more questions."

There was laughter, like a bag of air being drawn across a bed of nails; a dusty laugh.

"Yes, you are," the King said.

"Or what?"

"Or," Oberon smiled, "I will pull your intestines out through your nostril and fuck with you them."

Molly blinked.

The Fae nodded, "Right. I'll do this the difficult way; I was hoping very much I would have to!"

Molly screamed.

Oberon licked blood from his fingers and picked a piece of bone from his teeth. He silently noted he would a new pair of boots.

"I didn't notice you come in," he said.

"My liege," his lieutenant said, bowing - Oberon always got a kick out of that, "Ganesh knows what happened here."

"Doesn't mater," answered the King of the Fae, "Our attack begins soon."

"But, sir - are we really ready?"

"They aren't; no one tells fairy stories anymore."

With a horrible sloshing sound, Oberon turned on his heels and walked towards his next appointment; unlike his cousins, he walked everywhere. It gave him time to think.

This is definitely in a different world than the one the IC takes place in, correct?

Does it matter?

I intended it to be the normal one, but it works anywhere.
"Then I was fertilized and grew wise;
From a word to a word I was led to a word,
From a work to a work I was led to a work."
- Odin, Hávamál 138-141, the Poetic Edda, as translated by Dan McCoy.

I enjoy meta-humor and self-deprecation. Annoying, right?

Goodbye.

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Constaniana
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Founded: Mar 10, 2012
Democratic Socialists

Postby Constaniana » Sat May 10, 2014 9:50 pm

Nationstatelandsville wrote:
Constaniana wrote:This is definitely in a different world than the one the IC takes place in, correct?

Does it matter?

I intended it to be the normal one, but it works anywhere.

I thought the William and Al in the story were Sir Nilark and Crowley.
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Nightkill the Emperor wrote:You know, I didn't expect you to be the most psychopathic person here.

I have the oddest of feelings this is my fault somehow.
Nightkill the Emperor wrote:I just realised how bizarre Const's existence is.
Cerillium wrote:Const is right.
Zarkenis Ultima wrote:You just cornered a scary indian man with a sword-of-brick-shattering.

Have a cookie.
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Nightkill the Emperor
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Ex-Nation

Postby Nightkill the Emperor » Sat May 10, 2014 9:50 pm

Astrolinium wrote:Do we already have an actor we've decided that Oberon looks like?

I can't see him as anything but Lee Pace.

When an actor is not specifically stated, I go with Jon Pertwee.

For example, we never gave Megan an actress.
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Swith: It's because you're so awesome. God himself refreshes the screen before he types just to see if Nightkill has written anything while he was off somewhere else.

Monfrox wrote:
The balkens wrote:
# went there....

It's Nightkill. He's been there so long he rents out rooms to other people at a flat rate, but demands cash up front.

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Nightkill the Emperor
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Ex-Nation

Postby Nightkill the Emperor » Sat May 10, 2014 9:51 pm

Constaniana wrote:
Nationstatelandsville wrote:Does it matter?

I intended it to be the normal one, but it works anywhere.

I thought the William and Al in the story were Sir Nilark and Crowley.

Look at the first post of the current IC, and see who wrote the poem.
Hi! I'm Khan, your local misanthropic Indian.
I wear teal, blue & pink for Swith.
P2TM RP Discussion Thread
If you want a good rp, read this shit.
Tiami is cool.
Nat: Night's always in some bizarre state somewhere between "intoxicated enough to kill a hair metal lead singer" and "annoying Mormon missionary sober".

Swith: It's because you're so awesome. God himself refreshes the screen before he types just to see if Nightkill has written anything while he was off somewhere else.

Monfrox wrote:
The balkens wrote:
# went there....

It's Nightkill. He's been there so long he rents out rooms to other people at a flat rate, but demands cash up front.

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Nationstatelandsville
Khan of Spam
 
Posts: 70969
Founded: Apr 27, 2011
Ex-Nation

Postby Nationstatelandsville » Sat May 10, 2014 9:52 pm

Nightkill the Emperor wrote:
Astrolinium wrote:Do we already have an actor we've decided that Oberon looks like?

I can't see him as anything but Lee Pace.

When an actor is not specifically stated, I go with Jon Pertwee.

For example, we never gave Megan an actress.

There isn't one; Megan is, in my head, not really bound to an actress.

Well, the black girl from The Waters of Mars, maybe; but "thicker" and not as dark.
Last edited by Nationstatelandsville on Sat May 10, 2014 9:53 pm, edited 1 time in total.
"Then I was fertilized and grew wise;
From a word to a word I was led to a word,
From a work to a work I was led to a work."
- Odin, Hávamál 138-141, the Poetic Edda, as translated by Dan McCoy.

I enjoy meta-humor and self-deprecation. Annoying, right?

Goodbye.

User avatar
Constaniana
Postmaster of the Fleet
 
Posts: 25073
Founded: Mar 10, 2012
Democratic Socialists

Postby Constaniana » Sat May 10, 2014 9:53 pm

Nightkill the Emperor wrote:
Constaniana wrote:I thought the William and Al in the story were Sir Nilark and Crowley.

Look at the first post of the current IC, and see who wrote the poem.

Ah, that William.
Joe Biden 2020; make aviators great again.
Elementals 3 has arrived!
Agritum wrote:I want to marry you now, my British damsel.
Nightkill the Emperor wrote:You know, I didn't expect you to be the most psychopathic person here.

I have the oddest of feelings this is my fault somehow.
Nightkill the Emperor wrote:I just realised how bizarre Const's existence is.
Cerillium wrote:Const is right.
Zarkenis Ultima wrote:You just cornered a scary indian man with a sword-of-brick-shattering.

Have a cookie.
Winner of the Best High Fantasy RP of P2TM twice in a row Choo Choo

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Nationstatelandsville
Khan of Spam
 
Posts: 70969
Founded: Apr 27, 2011
Ex-Nation

Postby Nationstatelandsville » Sat May 10, 2014 9:54 pm

Constaniana wrote:
Nightkill the Emperor wrote:Look at the first post of the current IC, and see who wrote the poem.

Ah, that William.

I had Crowley call him "Mr. Yeats", but it seemed a little too obvious.

Especially since he doesn't spend a lot of time as "W.B. Yeats, Poet" and more as the sad, angry man behind that.
"Then I was fertilized and grew wise;
From a word to a word I was led to a word,
From a work to a work I was led to a work."
- Odin, Hávamál 138-141, the Poetic Edda, as translated by Dan McCoy.

I enjoy meta-humor and self-deprecation. Annoying, right?

Goodbye.

User avatar
Nightkill the Emperor
Post Kaiser
 
Posts: 88776
Founded: Dec 28, 2009
Ex-Nation

Postby Nightkill the Emperor » Sat May 10, 2014 9:55 pm

Constaniana wrote:
Nightkill the Emperor wrote:Look at the first post of the current IC, and see who wrote the poem.

Ah, that William.

I've always been fond of him.

And I spread it to Nat.
Hi! I'm Khan, your local misanthropic Indian.
I wear teal, blue & pink for Swith.
P2TM RP Discussion Thread
If you want a good rp, read this shit.
Tiami is cool.
Nat: Night's always in some bizarre state somewhere between "intoxicated enough to kill a hair metal lead singer" and "annoying Mormon missionary sober".

Swith: It's because you're so awesome. God himself refreshes the screen before he types just to see if Nightkill has written anything while he was off somewhere else.

Monfrox wrote:
The balkens wrote:
# went there....

It's Nightkill. He's been there so long he rents out rooms to other people at a flat rate, but demands cash up front.

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Nationstatelandsville
Khan of Spam
 
Posts: 70969
Founded: Apr 27, 2011
Ex-Nation

Postby Nationstatelandsville » Sat May 10, 2014 9:56 pm

Nightkill the Emperor wrote:
Constaniana wrote:Ah, that William.

I've always been fond of him.

And I spread it to Nat.

He seemed right.

His life was absolute shit; let's throw more on it!
Last edited by Nationstatelandsville on Sat May 10, 2014 9:56 pm, edited 1 time in total.
"Then I was fertilized and grew wise;
From a word to a word I was led to a word,
From a work to a work I was led to a work."
- Odin, Hávamál 138-141, the Poetic Edda, as translated by Dan McCoy.

I enjoy meta-humor and self-deprecation. Annoying, right?

Goodbye.

User avatar
Nightkill the Emperor
Post Kaiser
 
Posts: 88776
Founded: Dec 28, 2009
Ex-Nation

Postby Nightkill the Emperor » Sat May 10, 2014 9:59 pm

"Come Fairies, take me out of this dull world, for I would ride with you upon the wind and dance upon the mountains like a flame!"
-William Butler Yeats

This is a bad idea, William.
Hi! I'm Khan, your local misanthropic Indian.
I wear teal, blue & pink for Swith.
P2TM RP Discussion Thread
If you want a good rp, read this shit.
Tiami is cool.
Nat: Night's always in some bizarre state somewhere between "intoxicated enough to kill a hair metal lead singer" and "annoying Mormon missionary sober".

Swith: It's because you're so awesome. God himself refreshes the screen before he types just to see if Nightkill has written anything while he was off somewhere else.

Monfrox wrote:
The balkens wrote:
# went there....

It's Nightkill. He's been there so long he rents out rooms to other people at a flat rate, but demands cash up front.

User avatar
Nationstatelandsville
Khan of Spam
 
Posts: 70969
Founded: Apr 27, 2011
Ex-Nation

Postby Nationstatelandsville » Sat May 10, 2014 10:27 pm

Granted, this is probably not what Shakespeare was thinking when writing his light romantic comedy; but I still think it's true to the spirit of Oberon.
Last edited by Nationstatelandsville on Sat May 10, 2014 10:28 pm, edited 1 time in total.
"Then I was fertilized and grew wise;
From a word to a word I was led to a word,
From a work to a work I was led to a work."
- Odin, Hávamál 138-141, the Poetic Edda, as translated by Dan McCoy.

I enjoy meta-humor and self-deprecation. Annoying, right?

Goodbye.

User avatar
Nightkill the Emperor
Post Kaiser
 
Posts: 88776
Founded: Dec 28, 2009
Ex-Nation

Postby Nightkill the Emperor » Sat May 10, 2014 10:31 pm

Nationstatelandsville wrote:Granted, this is probably not what Shakespeare was thinking when writing his light romantic comedy; but I still think it's true to the spirit of Oberon.

Frankly, considering the shit Shakespeare did, he has no right to be concerned about people stealing his stuff and warping it.
Hi! I'm Khan, your local misanthropic Indian.
I wear teal, blue & pink for Swith.
P2TM RP Discussion Thread
If you want a good rp, read this shit.
Tiami is cool.
Nat: Night's always in some bizarre state somewhere between "intoxicated enough to kill a hair metal lead singer" and "annoying Mormon missionary sober".

Swith: It's because you're so awesome. God himself refreshes the screen before he types just to see if Nightkill has written anything while he was off somewhere else.

Monfrox wrote:
The balkens wrote:
# went there....

It's Nightkill. He's been there so long he rents out rooms to other people at a flat rate, but demands cash up front.

User avatar
Nationstatelandsville
Khan of Spam
 
Posts: 70969
Founded: Apr 27, 2011
Ex-Nation

Postby Nationstatelandsville » Sat May 10, 2014 10:33 pm

Nightkill the Emperor wrote:
Nationstatelandsville wrote:Granted, this is probably not what Shakespeare was thinking when writing his light romantic comedy; but I still think it's true to the spirit of Oberon.

Frankly, considering the shit Shakespeare did, he has no right to be concerned about people stealing his stuff and warping it.

"Oh, he's a creepy asshole? I would've just killed everyone, but that's cool."
"Then I was fertilized and grew wise;
From a word to a word I was led to a word,
From a work to a work I was led to a work."
- Odin, Hávamál 138-141, the Poetic Edda, as translated by Dan McCoy.

I enjoy meta-humor and self-deprecation. Annoying, right?

Goodbye.

User avatar
Nightkill the Emperor
Post Kaiser
 
Posts: 88776
Founded: Dec 28, 2009
Ex-Nation

Postby Nightkill the Emperor » Sat May 10, 2014 10:38 pm

Nationstatelandsville wrote:
Nightkill the Emperor wrote:Frankly, considering the shit Shakespeare did, he has no right to be concerned about people stealing his stuff and warping it.

"Oh, he's a creepy asshole? I would've just killed everyone, but that's cool."

"And then there would be fucking."
Hi! I'm Khan, your local misanthropic Indian.
I wear teal, blue & pink for Swith.
P2TM RP Discussion Thread
If you want a good rp, read this shit.
Tiami is cool.
Nat: Night's always in some bizarre state somewhere between "intoxicated enough to kill a hair metal lead singer" and "annoying Mormon missionary sober".

Swith: It's because you're so awesome. God himself refreshes the screen before he types just to see if Nightkill has written anything while he was off somewhere else.

Monfrox wrote:
The balkens wrote:
# went there....

It's Nightkill. He's been there so long he rents out rooms to other people at a flat rate, but demands cash up front.

User avatar
Nightkill the Emperor
Post Kaiser
 
Posts: 88776
Founded: Dec 28, 2009
Ex-Nation

Postby Nightkill the Emperor » Sat May 10, 2014 10:49 pm

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-3POYx6IeeI

Why Charles Dance is the best man to ever live.

"I like your kinky fuckery."
Hi! I'm Khan, your local misanthropic Indian.
I wear teal, blue & pink for Swith.
P2TM RP Discussion Thread
If you want a good rp, read this shit.
Tiami is cool.
Nat: Night's always in some bizarre state somewhere between "intoxicated enough to kill a hair metal lead singer" and "annoying Mormon missionary sober".

Swith: It's because you're so awesome. God himself refreshes the screen before he types just to see if Nightkill has written anything while he was off somewhere else.

Monfrox wrote:
The balkens wrote:
# went there....

It's Nightkill. He's been there so long he rents out rooms to other people at a flat rate, but demands cash up front.

User avatar
Nude East Ireland
Post Marshal
 
Posts: 17308
Founded: Dec 31, 2011
Ex-Nation

Postby Nude East Ireland » Sat May 10, 2014 11:12 pm

Nightkill the Emperor wrote:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-3POYx6IeeI

Why Charles Dance is the best man to ever live.

"I like your kinky fuckery."

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5oUa-3W0BFI

"My inner goddess is doing the dance of the seven veils."
Part One of the Incredible, Invincible Team Dai-Zarkeland!

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Nightkill the Emperor
Post Kaiser
 
Posts: 88776
Founded: Dec 28, 2009
Ex-Nation

Postby Nightkill the Emperor » Sat May 10, 2014 11:13 pm

I recommend you all also do oneshots.

They're quite fun and good.
Hi! I'm Khan, your local misanthropic Indian.
I wear teal, blue & pink for Swith.
P2TM RP Discussion Thread
If you want a good rp, read this shit.
Tiami is cool.
Nat: Night's always in some bizarre state somewhere between "intoxicated enough to kill a hair metal lead singer" and "annoying Mormon missionary sober".

Swith: It's because you're so awesome. God himself refreshes the screen before he types just to see if Nightkill has written anything while he was off somewhere else.

Monfrox wrote:
The balkens wrote:
# went there....

It's Nightkill. He's been there so long he rents out rooms to other people at a flat rate, but demands cash up front.

User avatar
Astrolinium
Post Czar
 
Posts: 36596
Founded: Mar 05, 2011
Scandinavian Liberal Paradise

Postby Astrolinium » Sat May 10, 2014 11:51 pm

Nightkill the Emperor wrote:I recommend you all also do oneshots.

They're quite fun and good.


Give me a prompt.
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Zarkenis Ultima
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Founded: Feb 22, 2011
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Zarkenis Ultima » Sat May 10, 2014 11:52 pm

Astrolinium wrote:
Nightkill the Emperor wrote:I recommend you all also do oneshots.

They're quite fun and good.


Give me a prompt.


Caspian meets Al Capone.

/random suggestion
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