Among the Wreckage. (RP #1)
Mar 1, 2023 22:23:35 GMT -5
Kira Izumi, Nausicaä Suzuki, and 1 more like this
Post by Donzig on Mar 1, 2023 22:23:35 GMT -5
Human beings in a mob
What's a mob to a king?
What's a king to a god?
What's a god to a non-believer
Who don't believe in anything?
Will he make it out alive?
Alright, alright
No church in the wild
The creepy, slightly off key voice echoed weirdly through the dimly lit stacks of old wrecked cars stacked high in the night. It hissed and rasped, and it was certainly not Frank Ocean. A hooded figure in a long leather coat swept across the uneven and junk strewn ground. The song trailed off, and a dented and mangled trunk was flung upwards.
Inside was nothing save a mask of reddish metal like a skull. Fingers slid across it lovingly, and then it was lifted to disappear beneath the cowl. Then the figure turned, flinging back his hood as the face of the Scourge once more looked out on his domain.
‘Now, Shizuku Yamamoto you know who you are fighting. Your sweet sunny days of fighting Goth, or that fucking rabble in JROK are over now. Now you will contend with the Great Dark, you stand here with Death in High Places. And you will not be the first or the fucking last King I drag down into the Pit with me!’
The masked head lifted, and the hand rose with an absent wave of his fingers. He paced across the rust and oil stained earth which had bits of worn and rusted metal jutting from it. His gaze flicking across the looming walls of shattered steel.
‘I understand that you are no longer the Torturer, I understand you call yourself the King of Failure. That you hold that belt, that you stand before me a champion, and you feel nothing. That is good, that pleases me. You see it is not every day that someone sees as we see, eh? The emptiness behind it all, the truth behind the lies of this tragic world. But that being said? I reign in this pit alone, I have no equal.’
Donzig sniffed, head tilting.
‘Not you, and not that other one either. This world is ash, but it belongs to me! TO ME!’
A pause, and his hand lifted to press a single finger across the slotted mouth of his mask. He paced back and forth, shaking his head before he waved a hand at the wreckage around him.
‘Do you see this, your grace? Do you see the wreckage and ruin around me? This is what I leave in my wake, I leave wreckage, I leave carnage, I leave broken things. And soon you will be cast down among them. One more thing that stood before the Scourge, one more thing I have to leave here among the dead and forgotten.’
A shrug of leather clad shoulders, and Donzig tapped his fingers against the crumpled steel of the fender. His head tilting to stare at it, his fingers dragging across it before he lifted it again. Rubbing those fingers together with a sniff, shaking his head before he spoke once more.
‘Which brings me to the Two Kingdoms Championship. You see it pleases me that you don’t feel anything when you hold that belt, these titles that these prancing fucking ninnies chase around like they have some meaning? They are nothing, they are just shadows and dust! They only have value because preening fools give them value! And they shit all over them, they defile them, and make them meaningless! Yet, they do have some meaning I suppose they show those that value such things you are to be feared, eh?’
Donzig’s hand curled into a fist on the metal, and then he turned with a hiss.
‘So you shouldn’t love them, your grace. But the thing is? I assume you are not a stupid creature, so you have seen what I am, what I am about, the things I will do, have done? You know that I don’t feel love, in fact? All I feel is hate, all I feel is bitterness, and rage! I look at the world and all I see are flaws!’
A finger lifted as his hand rose.
‘But what I do love? Are the things I created, the things I gave life to. And that means I want what is fucking mine, your grace. There is no failure here, because I believe the only failure is to quit. To give up, to submit to a world that rejects me. I can not fail, because I am inevitable.’
Donzig started to pace again, and he shook his head.
‘You speak of the bones or your kingdom? You are as bad as Goth. But I will tell you both something, my kingdom is already dead. There is nothing you can do to it, because it is as nothing beneath the bloated sun of this Hell!’
He turned, and he leaned closer to the camera as his breath hissed from behind his mask. A shrug, and his voice seemed almost amused.
‘You made mock of our names, how very sporting. You see I am the Beast of Many Names, Shizuku Yamamoto. I have as many names as there are ways to suffer, as many names as I have victims, each name is a face I wear. Each one is a mask that I put on and off as it amuses me. That is my gift. But at St. Patrick’s Day Massacre you say you will give us a new one? I say you will give us two.’
Donzig lifted two fingers.
‘And one will be the TWO KINGDOMS CHAMPION!’
Donzig snarled, and turned away with a shake of his head before he slammed his fist against the window of car. It shattered and broke, spraying inside of the wrecked car as he stormed off with a wave of his head.
‘See you soon.’
What's a mob to a king?
What's a king to a god?
What's a god to a non-believer
Who don't believe in anything?
Will he make it out alive?
Alright, alright
No church in the wild
The creepy, slightly off key voice echoed weirdly through the dimly lit stacks of old wrecked cars stacked high in the night. It hissed and rasped, and it was certainly not Frank Ocean. A hooded figure in a long leather coat swept across the uneven and junk strewn ground. The song trailed off, and a dented and mangled trunk was flung upwards.
Inside was nothing save a mask of reddish metal like a skull. Fingers slid across it lovingly, and then it was lifted to disappear beneath the cowl. Then the figure turned, flinging back his hood as the face of the Scourge once more looked out on his domain.
‘Now, Shizuku Yamamoto you know who you are fighting. Your sweet sunny days of fighting Goth, or that fucking rabble in JROK are over now. Now you will contend with the Great Dark, you stand here with Death in High Places. And you will not be the first or the fucking last King I drag down into the Pit with me!’
The masked head lifted, and the hand rose with an absent wave of his fingers. He paced across the rust and oil stained earth which had bits of worn and rusted metal jutting from it. His gaze flicking across the looming walls of shattered steel.
‘I understand that you are no longer the Torturer, I understand you call yourself the King of Failure. That you hold that belt, that you stand before me a champion, and you feel nothing. That is good, that pleases me. You see it is not every day that someone sees as we see, eh? The emptiness behind it all, the truth behind the lies of this tragic world. But that being said? I reign in this pit alone, I have no equal.’
Donzig sniffed, head tilting.
‘Not you, and not that other one either. This world is ash, but it belongs to me! TO ME!’
A pause, and his hand lifted to press a single finger across the slotted mouth of his mask. He paced back and forth, shaking his head before he waved a hand at the wreckage around him.
‘Do you see this, your grace? Do you see the wreckage and ruin around me? This is what I leave in my wake, I leave wreckage, I leave carnage, I leave broken things. And soon you will be cast down among them. One more thing that stood before the Scourge, one more thing I have to leave here among the dead and forgotten.’
A shrug of leather clad shoulders, and Donzig tapped his fingers against the crumpled steel of the fender. His head tilting to stare at it, his fingers dragging across it before he lifted it again. Rubbing those fingers together with a sniff, shaking his head before he spoke once more.
‘Which brings me to the Two Kingdoms Championship. You see it pleases me that you don’t feel anything when you hold that belt, these titles that these prancing fucking ninnies chase around like they have some meaning? They are nothing, they are just shadows and dust! They only have value because preening fools give them value! And they shit all over them, they defile them, and make them meaningless! Yet, they do have some meaning I suppose they show those that value such things you are to be feared, eh?’
Donzig’s hand curled into a fist on the metal, and then he turned with a hiss.
‘So you shouldn’t love them, your grace. But the thing is? I assume you are not a stupid creature, so you have seen what I am, what I am about, the things I will do, have done? You know that I don’t feel love, in fact? All I feel is hate, all I feel is bitterness, and rage! I look at the world and all I see are flaws!’
A finger lifted as his hand rose.
‘But what I do love? Are the things I created, the things I gave life to. And that means I want what is fucking mine, your grace. There is no failure here, because I believe the only failure is to quit. To give up, to submit to a world that rejects me. I can not fail, because I am inevitable.’
Donzig started to pace again, and he shook his head.
‘You speak of the bones or your kingdom? You are as bad as Goth. But I will tell you both something, my kingdom is already dead. There is nothing you can do to it, because it is as nothing beneath the bloated sun of this Hell!’
He turned, and he leaned closer to the camera as his breath hissed from behind his mask. A shrug, and his voice seemed almost amused.
‘You made mock of our names, how very sporting. You see I am the Beast of Many Names, Shizuku Yamamoto. I have as many names as there are ways to suffer, as many names as I have victims, each name is a face I wear. Each one is a mask that I put on and off as it amuses me. That is my gift. But at St. Patrick’s Day Massacre you say you will give us a new one? I say you will give us two.’
Donzig lifted two fingers.
‘And one will be the TWO KINGDOMS CHAMPION!’
Donzig snarled, and turned away with a shake of his head before he slammed his fist against the window of car. It shattered and broke, spraying inside of the wrecked car as he stormed off with a wave of his head.
‘See you soon.’
