|
|
Post by Demyth Chalfon on Aug 12, 2009 17:36:00 GMT -8
Light eyes scanned the faces of the people passing him on the street, as though searching for someone. Demyth stood straight, his shoulders back and his head held high, a smirk gracing his lips as his light hair tumbled into his eyes. Demyth was currently in his darker personality, which was never a good thing, but at the moment he felt like killing someone, which only made him all the more dangerous. It didn't take much to set him off, and while he was very tempted just to kill the next person to walk within arms reach, he'd decided it would be more fun if it was someone who happened to look at him the wrong way, or perhaps walk into him, so he was doing his best to be patient, his eyes constantly scanning as he walked down the street with a purpose, though he honestly had no place in mind to go.
Finally, after what felt like ages to Demyth (who'd never been very patient person) but in reality had only been a few minutes, he saw a middle aged man giving him a strange look from across the street. Demyth smirked and moved across the street towards the man, who frowned and looked around, as though wondering why Demyth was crossing the street. Demyth's smirk only widened as he reached the man and his hand snapped out and grabbed hold of the man's throat before roughly throwing him on the ground, where the man screamed in terror and began trying to crawl away from him. Demyth just placed a foot on the man's back to keep him still.
"Ladies and gentlemen, gather round, gather round! Have I got a show for you!" Demyth said, speaking loudly and a grin coming to his face. God, he loved the sound of his voice, really he did. And he was about to show these narrow-minded folks something amazing! He glanced around, amused by the way most people had stopped walking to stare at him, but all were keeping their distance. Some even ran away, which only made Demyth all the more happy with himself. No one moved forward to help the man he had pinned against the ground with his foot, who was still screaming for help and struggling.
"Now folks, I think it's in your best interest of if you all keep your distance! This could get a little messy, for I am going to show you..." He paused for effect, and making sure everyone's attention was on him. He reveled in that attention. "How to kill a person with only one punch!" He said, sounding cheerful. "Now, the trick is to aim your punch directly at your opponent's nose, and hard! You went to shatter the bones in your opponent's nose, and send them into his brain. Trust me, if you hit them hard enough, and aim directly at the nose, it'll kill them!" He said loudly. He smirked as he heard the people around him gasp.
"Now..." He paused for effect once again. "Who would like a demonstration!?"_________________________________________
Words: 540
Mood: Quite good
Notes: Wow, this was surprisingly fun to write! =O [/size]
|
|
|
|
Post by Amri Amatzya on Aug 12, 2009 21:48:22 GMT -8
Amri's eyelids were lowered as he walked through the city, feeling tense. No, not because he was scared for his well being, he just knew that this was a popular place for vampires, werewolves...all things of that matter, which he despised greatly. They were disgusting abominations that had no place in the world. They didn't earn what they had, they were born with it. They had it easy, and would never understand the desires of humans. So in his mind, they did not have the right to live among man as one of them, pretending like they fit in. Ha, what a joke. And what was sad that even with their added powers, they couldn't beat Amri. No, he had fought plenty of them in his lifetime, and none of them proved an extra-special challenge, which further proved that there was no reason for them to exist.
The people made a path for him wherever he walked. He didn't know how much they talked about him, or if it was even known that the Tyrant King had hired the deadliest mercenary known to man, but Amri didn't exactly hide who he was in shame. No, it was displayed to the world like a fine diamond for everyone to admire, or in his case, fear and run away from. His own satisfaction with himself was shown in the signature smirk he always seemed to wear, the smirk that was the last image ever seen by all of his victims. This smirk had needed no practice to be made perfect; it was written in his genes for it was as much him as the color of his eyes and his height. It was his warning label, and what it said simply was that this man was lethal in every definition of the word, a monstrosity among mankind.
However, his attention was diverted when he saw the commotion on the street, and the expression in his eyes was significantly lighter. Hmmm, so a man was going to kill someone and make everyone watch? Slightly odd. Amri didn't kill to earn the approval of other, for it worked in the other direction anyway, he killed for the pleasure, the feeling that a life was in his hands, and that he knew he would abuse it in every way. It was his drug, a sick addiction that separated him from others.
Maybe this man was the same, and he only wanted to instill fear in others. Amused, Amri stepped forward from the rest of the crowd, even though it hadn't really been needed. He stood out no matter where he was, and wielding a nine-foot long halberd helped. "Actually, I would like a demonstration," he said with an even more satisfied smirk, but there was a hint of a dare in the inflections of his voice, "Show me what's oh-so special about the way you kill." He lifted Banryuu just an inch over his shoulder before letting it rest down again. Yes, this might be fun.
|
|
|
|
Post by Demyth Chalfon on Aug 13, 2009 9:23:23 GMT -8
Demyth chuckled as everyone around him stayed quiet, smirk still in place as he took in all the looks of horror he was receiving. The man below him was still screaming his head off, but now he was begging for his life as well. Demyth looked down at the man he held down, listening for a moment as the man offered to give him everything he owned. By the way the man was dressed, however, Demyth doubted the man owed very much. Not that he would have sparred him even if he'd been rich and stuff. He was doing this because One: He felt like killing. Two: He liked attention. And Three:...Well, he was bored, and doing this was easing his boredom.
He clenched one of his fists, his grin turning wicked as he bent down slightly, pulling his fist back and preparing to punch the man directly in the nose, however he saw movement out of the corner of his eyes, which striked him as odd since no one in the crowd had moved an inch since his whole little 'presentation' had begun. A second later the man that had stepped forward spoke, and Demyth paused, raising his head to look at the man, his eyes narrowing at the sight of the nine-foot long sword. He didn't listen to what the man was saying, for instead a wide grin came to his face. "Whoa, cool sword!" he said, before realizing that the man was saying something, and that it might be important, so he thought back, trying to remember what the man had said.
Demyth narrowed his eyes once again, frowning slightly at the man. "Are you challenging me?" He asked, sounding a little surprised. Then he chuckled and shook his head, "I am not fighting you when you have that big-ass sword. You want a demonstration? Settle for the man I chose to die." He said, nodding his head as he turned his attention back to the man he had pinned down. One again he pulled his fist back and prepared to punch the man, but one again the other man's voice distracted him and he looked up once again. "Hey, those are your words, not mine. I never said there was anything special about the way I kill. Anyone could probably do it." He said, shrugging. Finally he lashed out with his fist at the man still pinned to the ground, his fist connecting with the man's nose. Demyth heard more than he felt the man's nose shatter, and blood came spurting out of the man's nose, getting all over his hand. The man was no longer moving, and his eyes had rolled up into the back of his head, a sign which Demyth knew to mean he was dead. He looked up and chuckled as people begun to scream and run away._________________________________________
Words: 496
Mood: Miserable
Notes: Wow, I seem to get a lot of muse when replying with Demy xD [/size]
|
|
|
|
Post by Amri Amatzya on Aug 13, 2009 10:24:25 GMT -8
Amri sighed. Yes, he knew his sword was cool, he knew it was the greatest creation on the face of the planet. It was his companion, his friend, his baby. It had been made especially for him, to compliment his blunt, brute way of killing. It was his offense, his defense, and his only bedmate. It was the only one of it's kind, for no living being could hope to wield such a blade, save of course, for Amri. Banryuu he had named it, which mean, 'Barbarian Style,' and that it indeed had. It was barbaric to the core.
So the man didn't wish to fight him? Well, he supposed this man was smart enough to know he didn't stand a chance. After all, the only times people were ever able to wound him were when Banryuu was not in his hands. No one could even touch him with it in his hands, which is how so many of his fights ended so quickly. But God how he loved the looks on the faces of his victims after he sliced them so easily, like they had thought Banryuu was just for show. No, it was a working weapon that loved its job.
Amri cocked his head slightly to watch the man's 'demonstration,' and couldn't help but feel a wave of delight as he watched the man be killed right in front of him. So he wasn't just all talk, was he? Interesting...he thought about the group he wanted to make. He had finally found a man who was strong and intelligent enough to make an able second-in-command, but he wasn't sure he had the same brute force as this man. Yes, perhaps this was a lucky coincidence.
"Hmmm, good and simple. I'd personally prefer to do it in two punches, first to another spot to make it more painful," his eyes flickered down to his own intimate spot, "if you know what I mean." He snickered slightly as he walked further out to inspect the body. Yes, it was dead. Pity, he had been hoping slightly that it would still be alive so he could cut off it's head to silence it, but you didn't get everything you wanted, now did you? "Tell me, you like to kill?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Demyth Chalfon on Aug 13, 2009 10:54:27 GMT -8
Demyth stepped back, admiring his work, a wide grin on his face. Yes, the man's nose was nothing but a blood mess now, and just the look on the dead man's face would tell anyone that set eyes on him that he'd died screaming. It sent a thrill up his spine, the look on the man's face. Demyth raised his clenched fist, looking at the blood on his fist. Now, most evil guys would do something like lick off the blood...but that personally disgusted Demyth, so he settled for just wiping his hand on his white shirt before looking down at the contrast in colours, the crimson blood on his white shirt. Well, that should freak quite a few people out, right? He'd enjoy seeing the surprise and then horror on the faces of the people he walked past.
Demyth looked up again, not at all surprised to see the everyone that had watched him kill the man were gone, or at least far in the distance, running for their lives. They were so stupid. He'd just killed a man, fed the murderer in him, did they think he was going to go chase after them now? Well...maybe on another day he would have, but for now he was much too intrigued by the only man that hadn't run off. He saw a look in the other man's eyes, a look that he knew was currently in his own eyes. It was the thrill of killing that sent that look into their eyes, and Demyth knew then that this man was like him and enjoyed killing people.
Demyth chuckled as the man told him that he would have done it in two punches, one punch to a much more sensitive area, to cause the victim pain, and the other to end his life. "Ah, that's always a good idea." He said, nodding seriously. "I like to kill people different ways. Doing it the same way over and over gets boring." He said, shrugging his shoulders, watching as the man moved closer to inspect the dead man. He chuckled once again as the man asked if he liked killing. "Do you really have to ask?" He asked, grinning at the man. "My name is Demyth, by the way." He told the man, though he didn't offer his hand to shake, just folded his arms up behind his head, like someone would were they lying down on the grass, looking at the clouds._________________________________________
Words: 435
Mood: Good =)
Notes: None [/size]
|
|
|
|
Post by Amri Amatzya on Aug 13, 2009 12:11:05 GMT -8
Amri held a hand up to his mouth and chuckled. Pain was always good. He had been causing pain since even before he was born, though he hadn't even known it. He had been a source of tears just because he had been successfully created, because to one woman he was just a reminder of the worst night of her life that ruined her future forever. Well, she had deserved it for being weak. No one who couldn't fight for their life deserved to own it as their own. She hadn't held responsibility for her beating heart, so it was natural that someone would take advantage of that. Amri was one of those people who loved to do exactly that, to increase his own strength.
"I agree, variety is the spice of life," he said as he walked around the dead body, looking at it from different angles. He did love to kill in different ways, situations often called for it, but he still loved taking off people's heads with Banryuu the most. Perhaps it was because he often mused that if he were ever to be caught and be executed, it would most likely be by beheading. It was like he was getting his revenge before he even needed it. But really, this was his only chance for revenge, since he couldn't exactly get it after he was dead.
He smirked, so he did like to kill, did he? He had already seen that he was strong, but he was hesitant to offer an invitation already. Perhaps it was his nearly hypersensitive senses that could feel through the ground the movement of every single person in the vicinity. Yes, he was arrogant, but he was not oblivious, nor did he have the patience for mistakes. "My name is Amri Amatzya," he said, tossing his bangs out of his eyes. Why didn't he cut them off? Even he didn't know the answer to that, something had him attached to them.
"Tell me, how would you like to join a group of people with the same desires, the same lust for killing?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Demyth Chalfon on Aug 13, 2009 14:44:04 GMT -8
Demyth stayed silent and just watched as the man continued to inspect the body from all the angles, a grin remaining on his face. He was rather fascinated with this man, not only because he had a giant ass sword that looked extremely hard to lift up, but also because he seemed to have the same joy in watching someone die as he himself did. He definitely wasn't used to that...in fact, he'd never met anyone else that wasn't too afraid to kill. That's how he thought of it. Most people were too afraid to end someone's life, even if they hated that person. Very few people had overcome that fear and discovered how much fun holding someone's life in your hands was.
He was surprised by the boy, Amri's question, when he asked whether he wanted to join a group with people that enjoyed killing just as much. He crossed his arms over his chest as he debated with himself. It could prove fun, to meet others that had his joy of killing, maybe even come to call them companions. However, he couldn't help but think about his stupid counterpart, his second personality. What would Amri and the others say when they learned about Demy? Should he tell Amri now, or wait until whenever Demy came out and had to be introduced to Amri once again. It was a little annoying, he could never remember what Demy did or said while he was in control, and it worked the other way around.
"...Sounds like it might be fun...alright." He said after a few moments of silence in which he used to decide that he might as well, since he had nothing better to do. He decided he'd bring up the whole thing about his counterpart later. "How many people are in this group already?" He asked, his grin still in place and his arms still crossed over his chest. His light gaze wandered back to Amri's halberd. "Is that really as heavy as it looks?" He asked curiously, wondering whether maybe it was more for intimidation. Amri would have to be pretty darn strong to carry that around all the time._________________________________________
Words: 385
Mood: Content
Notes: None [/size]
|
|
|
|
Post by Amri Amatzya on Aug 13, 2009 16:37:01 GMT -8
He smirked, and so much could be said with that simple gesture. There was a bit of teasing, a bit of daring, a bit of amusement, a bit of knowing, a bit of everything. It was the positively most irritating thing he could do to people, yet it could be oddly reassuring sometimes. After all, he didn't smirk when he was upset, so it was a sure sign he was in a good mood. Whether that meant good or bad depended on the person and the situation. Just the thought that increased the...smirkiness of his smirk.
"How many?" Amri asked, sounding like he was just making small talk instead of discussing business, "Besides me, a man I met named Les. You'll meet him eventually. But then again, I just started this recently." There was a cockiness to the way he said it, like he knew he was in charge. But when was he ever not in charge? Even when talking to the Tyrant King himself, he had looked him straight in the eye and made his demands without hesitation. He didn't back down from anyone, even if this man was much bigger than him.
He swung Banryuu down from his shoulder and let the tip hit the ground, hand reaching over himself to reach the hilt, for even just the blade along was bigger than him. The handle accounted for three of the nine feet. He gave it a look of admiration and then returned his gaze to Demyth, "Probably heavier than it looks, it's not just for show." Lovingly, he pulled off the purple slip that kept the shiny silver blade protected, and he couldn't help but caress the slick surface softly, like by just touching it he would remember everyone that had been killed by it.
"A group of the strongest mercenaries is what I want to create."
|
|
|
|
Post by Demyth Chalfon on Aug 13, 2009 22:20:40 GMT -8
Demyth nodded, still grinning brightly. For a murderer, he was a surprisingly happy person. Or was it the other way around? Perhaps all murderers were happy people, and the low-lives that were too cowardly to kill people were the miserable slobs. He'd never really thought of it until now, though he supposed it made sense. He couldn't see how someone who didn't constantly kill people, who wasn't constantly holding someone's life in their hands could be happy. After all, it's what made his life so great! Just looking forward to the next time he'd have the thrill of playing God and choosing who lived and died, that was what kept him going, definitely.
"So...how is this going to work? Are we all going to travel together from country to country wrecking havoc?" He asked, his voice still strangely cheerful. He had to admit, the idea was quite appealing. He did realize that this boy, who was no doubt younger than him would be in charge, and in truth that bothered him. He considered fighting for leadership right here and now, however he decided now wasn't the time. He'd challenge Amri's authority when he met Les and decided whether he actually did want to be the leader of it. For all he knew, the group could fall apart...or even turn on the leader. He wouldn't want to be in charge of a group like that.
"Really?" He asked as Amri told him that his sword was probably heavier than it looked, raising one eyebrow in slight disbelief. "Mind if I try lifting it, then?" He asked, though he didn't move forward to grab it, as he'd wait until Amri agreed or disagreed. He knew some people were very protective of their stuff. He grinned at Amri's last words, however. "Glad I meet your standards." He said, his tone slightly playful, which wasn't at all odd for someone like Demyth._________________________________________
Words: 347
Mood: Tired, but gooooddd <)
Notes: Nooneee [/size]
|
|
|
|
Post by Amri Amatzya on Aug 15, 2009 10:06:26 GMT -8
"Yes, that's the basic idea." Oh, and what a dream it was, to have permanent companions and to be able to kill with them? His friends in the past had been drinking buddies, officers assigned to him to help him with his duty, random strangers who helped him, tavern owners who let him stay without paying, street rats for which he provided a helping hand. He was actually quite a friendly, outgoing person, which many people missed, for they say only the cruel murderer. It was a shame for he was a loyal and generous friend if you succeeded in making him so, but then again, he didn't get along with everybody, only the people he could connect with on some level, aka, the people on the grittier end of the scale, the people who weren't afraid to drink the night away or sleep on the rocks. People that, no matter what facade they carried, had tough, thick skins.
"Sure," he said, pushing the blade forward slightly. After all, it had been part of his test for Les, may as well let Demyth give it a try as well. Some people would think it was stupid to hand your only weapon over to someone else, but Amri was confident that no one else could truly wield it, at least not effectively. In which case they would be at a disadvantage for they would be lugging around a halberd they couldn't use to it's full power and Amri would be free to do whatever he wanted with his bare hands. He saw himself in no danger whatsoever. Banryuu was a one-man sword, loyal only to Amri because Amri was the only one who got the full one-hundred percent out of it.
Standards, he said? Amri didn't quite see it as standards, more as requirements. Strong, male, and human were the simple guidelines. The last two were easy enough to tell, but the first one defined it all. Indeed, if it was to be called a standard, it was a high one.
|
|
|
|
Post by Demyth Chalfon on Aug 16, 2009 20:17:08 GMT -8
Demyth grinned brightly as the man said that going from country to country with their companions, wrecking havoc, was indeed the idea. He rubbed his hands together in anticipation, already hearing the screams of their victims. There would be so many people to kill, nothing to worry about, not really, anyways. He would have the backs of his companions, and he trusted that his companions would have his backs. Also, Demyth had grown up in Sceith, and he'd always forced himself not to fight as often as he would have liked, because this was his home. He would much rather go to other countries to wreck havoc there, where he didn't have to worry about wrecking the peace of his home country. "Excellent!" He said, sounding cheerful.
His grin only brightened as Armi agreed to allow him to try lift his sword. "Great!" He said, stepping forward and grabbing the hilt, pulling it towards him and successfully listening the sword, blade and all off the ground, though it was in fact much heavier than he'd originally guesstimated. While standing still, he looked completely comfortable holding the sword, though when he turned away from Amri and tried to swing the sword, not wanting to accidentally hit his new found companion, he was unable to swing the sword fast. It was no where near a weapon he would like to fight with, because since his swing was so slow, his victim would have plenty of time to dodge. With practice it would come easier, of course, but Demy much preferred fighting and killing with his hands, anyways.
"Wow, that is heavier than I expected." He said, chuckling as he handed the sword back to Amri, waiting (a little grudgingly, to be honest, though he hid it) for Amri to tell him what to do next. Were they to head off together right now? He wouldn't mind that, actually, but he would let Amri decide. For now he wouldn't question Amri's authority...though that wouldn't last forever._________________________________________
Words: 350
Mood: Good
Notes: I still don't have much muse for this post, so sorry my reply wasn't so great D= [/size]
|
|
|
|
Post by Amri Amatzya on Aug 17, 2009 9:21:08 GMT -8
He watched with a critical eye as Demyth handled Banryuu. He was more worried that he'd drop it and hurt it rather than run away with it, not that Banryuu scratched easily, but this guy might have enough strength to get it banged up, so he watched very closely. It was more than a sword, it was his baby, and it just wasn't replaceable, not only because he had killed the man who had made it. Which, now that he thought about it, really hadn't been a wise course of action.
He looked up into the sky and saw a familiar shape. d*** bird, always showing up when he was least needed. But...perhaps he could use him now. After all, he was trying to look leaderly. He lifted a hand and shouted, "Halil!" and the golden eagle glided down to land on him. Halil's claws dug into his hand, but he didn't feel the pain at all. His eyes lit up slightly for he had actually done what he had wanted him to do. How...convenient. It would've been embarrassing if he had shouted the bird's name and he had just flown farther away.
He took his halberd back and put on it's slip, and swung it up onto his left shoulder. Halil proceeded to then take a short flight to the tip of the blade to sit on. With a grin, Amri reached up with his left hand to place it on Demyth's shoulder, something he always did to potential comrades, "Call me Big Brother," he said, starting to walk and hoping he would come with him. There were lots of things to talk about, pasts to learn, and strategies to discuss. Amri was a fair man, and his friends were his equals, not his pawns.
|
|
