Dream III. Love To Hate

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Kasoria
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Posts: 1543
Joined: Sun Apr 24, 2016 3:34 am
Race: Human
Renown: 935
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III. Love To Hate

12th Trial, Vhalar, 719


Continued from here


He knew he needed a fresh enemy. Not just a dummy, though. Something scratched behind his mind now, freed as it was from the strain of maintaining his constructs. Some desire that had been given voice now he was in a realm that could indulge it. The sheer... blasphemy of it, made his black little heart chuckle. The reality might never happen. That it had happened before, in the ruined, ended city far to the South, was a mark carved into the history of Idalos forever. Such were all events of great and breathtaking import.

Kasoria had been privileged, skilled, and simply stubborn enough to witness it. Mayhap he would witness it again... and that time, he thought it might end him.

It would be worth it. To see this city free, and the message sent to all other monsters to leave it be.

Even he snorted at the arrogance of the thought, the sheer self-aggrandizement. He shook his long hair and sent rain droplets splattering all around. He raised both hands and decided this torrential bollocks had gone on far enough. He closed his eyes and by the time he tipped back his head and opened them... the rain had stopped. Sunshine filtered into the yard, rain now drying faster than would have been possible in the waking world. Kasoria smiled and looked about him. Felt the heat on his hands. Felt the water cooling them puff away into steam. He simply wished it to be. A general, all-encompassing desire for bad weather to be replaced with good. Expanding from himself up into the yard, the stones, the air, the sky, permeating all until-

This is you mind. Your dream. Your world. All three together. Don't forget.

The Raggedy Man rolled his shoulders, and again closed his eyes. He did not forget, but knew he'd need to focus even harder for the next one. Not necessarily the form, but the manner, the... personality, for want of a better word. That was something he could barely scratch with his mortal mind. How would such a being fight? How would they move? With a body so distorted and unnatural, an abomination unto the eyes-

You'll think of something... or someone.

But the body? That was easy to recollect. No-one who'd been in the presence of an Immortal could forget ever detail of them. The sheer wrongness of them, the power they projected, beyond magic or ether or Spark, got under his skin like some disease let into the air. Then it went beyond the skin. He couldn't take his eyes off her, when she'd appeared in that place between living and dead that her sister had called home. He remembered feeling almost torn: between lunging, trying to jam his sword through her heart, and recoiling away in a terror he'd not felt since childhood.

Kasoria let those memories resurface, and those feelings flesh them out. Form the curves and aped human torso of the thing he'd seen. The long black hair, full chest and black eyes, oddly like his own. But below her waist... she was like her children. Massive legs coated with thick hairs that shivered in the air. Twin fangs that rubbed together grotesquely in the space where her cunny should have been. Behind it all, a massive, rearing stinger, curved so high and far it was ever-swinging above her head.

He focused. He imagined. He painted the scene, and then heard a hiss.

Kasoria opened his eyes, and imperfect though it was, he could not mistake who filled half the backyard.

Sintra.
word count: 620

Appearance

  • Habitually dressed in boots, breeches, tunic, and cloak.
  • Long hair down to the shoulders, usually swept back or in a rough ponytail
  • Prefers a trimmed beard and mustache

Mutations

  • Star-shaped scar on each palm.
  • Air around him seems to thicken and become more turbulent the closer a person gets to him.
  • Pitch black eyes, from tear ducts to the pupils.
  • Arms from shoulder to palms appear as if heavy chains are wrapped around them.
  • Wisps of black smoke constantly drifts around his body, forming the rough outline of a cloak. The more agitated he becomes, the thicker the layers get.
    Note: the torch-motif medallion Kasoria wears negates the visible effects of this mutation.
  • Roughly circular pattern across breastbone, constantly transforming, and resettling
  • Sunken, closed eyes in the back of hands; they open when stared at
  • Skin takes on the tone and quality of whatever material he's just Transmuted
User avatar
Kasoria
Approved Character
Posts: 1543
Joined: Sun Apr 24, 2016 3:34 am
Race: Human
Renown: 935
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Wealth Tier: Tier 5

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Re: III. Love To Hate

Image
He didn't give her a voice. Couldn't, though not in a literal sense. He remembered hearing her speak, the tone and pitch of her words. There wouldn't have been much for her to say, in all honesty. What could he imagine her saying, here in this most private of places, other than vent her scorn against his species? Mock him and his people for allowing so obvious a villain into their home? But that was not the true reason. Sintra was not some unattainable idea he had not the wit nor imagination to capture.

The truth was, he didn't need her voice. He had her form, and when she sneered, she was all he needed her to be.

He snapped out his hands and that same black matter filled them both as he moved. A pair of sharp, curved daggers like the one he carried at his hip formed from them. First the outline, rough and rude and shadowy. Then filling out and becoming solid, then sharp, enough to gleam in the suns. The creature he'd formed hissed at the sight of them, massive pincers click-clacking in challenge. Kasoria spat to the side and tensed his fingers around the blades. Ni rain, now. No thunder. No lightning. Both them them under the light of day, in the place he called home, the place she'd worked to destroy and then to save. Kasoria was sure of it, that what Vlu had told him... well... it made sense. The Immortals played their endless games with each other, and even a city was naught but a pawn, an asset, a clever little scenario to be utilized to the greater goal.

So what if millions of the peons die? So what if a generation of children grow remembering their parents screaming as plague and monsters end them? Or a generation of parents wither in memory of their children weeping as their guts turn to slop inside them?

"All jus' a game, innit?" He snarled at the figure. "Fer the likes a you. Always will be, 'til some cunt like me ends yeh."

She hissed again and surged forwards, but this time, Kasoria charged.

Charged and screamed, with the sound of a lifetime's hate.

The creature, the monster, the goddess, was huge and fast, but Kasoria had faced those dimensions before, if not the form. It made them overconfident. He went down to his knees at a full sprint just as a huge pincer swiped out from the side to snip him in half across the torso. Bones creaked and muscles cried out in anguish as he bent backwards, sliding under the colossal appendage-weapon and under the Spider-Queen. He thanked himself briefly for remembering to imagine breeches, or his knees would have been rubbed raw down to the bone. Even now they were tortured, but as the sunlight died under the bulk of the creature he was sliding under-

Ignore it. Focus. This may be your mind, you may not die here, but it'll still fucking hurt. And besides...

The rest of the thought was cut off as he felt both daggers bite into chitin. One sliced the monster across the underside, the other stabbed into one of her legs, Kasoria's momentum pulling it back out as his skidding, sliding body came out from under her, and he tried to turn-

-cursed halfway through the clumsy movement as the beast screeched with a throat no mortal creature could possess-

He knew what she'd do before it happened. Same thing he'd do. Retaliate, and quick. Her size would have worked against her, and the fresh injury to her leg. But he was an old man, with old legs, and he couldn't turn in time. Instead of spinning around to his feet and leaping aside, he only just got up to-

-get knocked clean off them again by a backhanded blow from the other pincer. He didn't even have the breath to shout as he was flung into a wall like a bag of trash. Something broke, somewhere in the middle of his back. Something else cracked as he landed. Several somethings, actually. Kasoria swallowed it. Such a simple thing to say, but it was only pain to him. The severity was of little consequence: only in how it inhibited him. The control of it... that never changed. From his hands and knees he flashed a look of raw hatred at the thing that embodied all he despised in the world. It reared up and the stinger came up. Blotting the sun, coming down-

-evil point smashing into the wall where he'd been as he rolled away. Coming back and trying again as the Spider-Queen hissed in frustration, but again the assassin was too fast, even with broken bones and a spinning head. The blades he held were small, light, yet lethal. He may as well have been barehanded, but for all the lack of reach, it gave him speed. That would be what saved him-

-from yet another might blow aimed at piercing his heart. The assassin span to his side and let the stinger smash into a wall, bury itself in it for a precious second-

-giving him time to stab his daggers into the bulbous tip, bottom and top. The goddess shrieked and Kasoria didn't waste the moment. He yanked the blades out from the side with a great heave of his arms-

-and Sintra drew back the stump of her stinger, poison and blood and foulness spewing from it. Pain and rage and disbelief and yes, the fear he saw flash in her eyes stalled her, but emboldened him and he lunged for her with a barbarian's yell-

Don't get stupid!

He caught himself just in time, but at a cost. One of her pincers lashed out yet Kasoria threw up his daggers. Crossed together, they were enough to stop himself from being sent flying again. Arms and upper body braced behind them, he countered with enough force to halt the clubbing-

-but the shattering pain blinded him, paused him, and again the mistake was played out only it was him who was victim-

-as one of the massive, drooling fangs hanging under Sintra's waist sank deep into his leg. Kasoria roared out in agony, in anguish, yet in the split-trill of that agony, channeled it into killing fury. His leg already afire, he threw his arms to the side, opening up the Spider-Queen's guard by redirecting her pincer away from him-

The daggers moved up and down, back and forth, precise and savage. Thrice he hacked at tendons, easily surmised before by the thick bundles of muscle lining the monster's limbs. Then down, at the legs, stabbing into the middle of one, at the joint, and twisting it out, leaving a semi-severed ruin behind-

-finishing his revenge with a bellow as he lunged upward-

-and the other pincer knocked him back and into the wall.

Kasoria lay there for what seemed like all trial. It was more like a couple of trills, if that. But that delay, that blackness, that irresistible weariness and desire to just stay down, rest... Fates, but it called to him. For a couple of trills. Then the old man's eyes snapped open and Sintra was there. Hideous and beautiful at once, depending what you were looking at. Classical face of sculpted mortal nobility now twisted into a daemon's visage. Two of her legs were nigh-useless under her. One of her pincers twitched and bled and she could barely lift it. Her stinger pumped fluid green and black everywhere, including over her head as it twitched abruptly-

She glared as Kasoria dared to laugh. His own mind made such a thing. Was it inspired, or childish? Either way... it hurt. He shoved himself up the wall and felt nothing in one of his legs. He stamped it, over and over. Until he felt pain. Yes. He could work with that. On a leg on the verge of hemorrhaging, trailing blood as he went, the Raggedy Man spat blood and stepped forwards.

He raised both his daggers, and winked at the queen.

Leg's fucked. Make her come to you. Then... work it out.

"Come on n'ave it, yeh Morty bitch-"

The rest was drowned and washed away by an Immortal's shriek, that seemed to rattle the sky of this impossible place, and the thunder of her feet as she charge cracked stone and promised death.
word count: 1446

Appearance

  • Habitually dressed in boots, breeches, tunic, and cloak.
  • Long hair down to the shoulders, usually swept back or in a rough ponytail
  • Prefers a trimmed beard and mustache

Mutations

  • Star-shaped scar on each palm.
  • Air around him seems to thicken and become more turbulent the closer a person gets to him.
  • Pitch black eyes, from tear ducts to the pupils.
  • Arms from shoulder to palms appear as if heavy chains are wrapped around them.
  • Wisps of black smoke constantly drifts around his body, forming the rough outline of a cloak. The more agitated he becomes, the thicker the layers get.
    Note: the torch-motif medallion Kasoria wears negates the visible effects of this mutation.
  • Roughly circular pattern across breastbone, constantly transforming, and resettling
  • Sunken, closed eyes in the back of hands; they open when stared at
  • Skin takes on the tone and quality of whatever material he's just Transmuted
User avatar
Kasoria
Approved Character
Posts: 1543
Joined: Sun Apr 24, 2016 3:34 am
Race: Human
Renown: 935
Character Sheet
Character Wiki
Plot Notes
Templates
Wealth Tier: Tier 5

Contribution

Milestones

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Miscellaneous

Re: III. Love To Hate

Image
He'd seen her like, when he was far younger. Not Immortals. Not in Etzos. Scorpions. Spiders. Creeping things with too many legs and eyes that haunted the tunnels and catacombs he'd made his kingdom decades before. He'd stalked them in the past. Watched where they'd go, out of curiosity. Marveling at their weirdness and lethal bodies. The way they moved, so still in one moment, such skittering speed in the next. He'd watch them hunt, now and then. When their delicate senses didn't detect him. Watched them sting and clamp and impale their prey... but never fight each other. Once or twice he'd seen a hairy, glistening example of one circle the other. Feet splayed, pincers spread, stinger high... but it came to nothing. The moment passed and the two predators went on their way.

Kasoria had always wondered why. He still did. But he remembered plenty from them. Like how they sounded when he crushed one under his boot.

Aye, that's likely.

It all came down to muscle and grit at that moment, and he was sorely lacking the first one. Not compared to the behemoth bearing down on him now, mutilated yet still incomparably lethal. Sintra even crippled could have torn her way through a company of armed men; what chance did an old man with a couple of knives stand? But he had no other choice. There was nowhere to run... apart from to the Waking.

The Raggedy Man glared grimly as the sky turned dark, and did not think such again. He'd not flee. Not from his own mind.

"Fuckin' cunt-!"

He dropped down to his bad knee as the still-working pincer came swinging at his neck from the side. He felt his hair ruffle as it passed over him, and stabbed up into the middle of it with his right blade. He felt bone and chitin crunch under the impact. But he didn't withdraw. He left it there, crippling and agonizing with every movement, and instead grabbed onto the side of the Spider-Queen as he twisted-

-carrying him with the movement. Her bulk and speed throwing him off to her side, but at a time he wanted. Kasoria tottered on one good leg and another that seemed to be rotting under him. He looked down and saw the colors around the deep, sucking wound. Fuck. He didn't have long, that was bloody obvious. He managed to turn in time, however. As Sintra advanced on him again, pincers ruined, stinger useless, but her colossal fangs were raised and she reached out for him with the mortal hands on her torso. As if she would rip him apart with those alone.

Kasoria stumped towards her and then darted to the side. She followed suit, changing direction, surging towards him-

-as the little man screamed in pain, force of it blinding him, white light obliterating his senses for a moment, as he launched himself sideways, towards the wall, off his bad leg-

-but he had to; he needed the good one. He kicked off the wall with it, all the strength he had left below the waist rocketing him up first a few feet, then a few more-

-flying at Sintra from the side now... and from her own height. The Spider-Queen's mouth opened in shock as now she was eclipsed, she found the shadow fall over her-

-as a ragged and broken and doomed mortal crashed into her with a roar-

SHUNK

-dagger in his left hand burying itself through her eye.

SHIK

The headband she wore, many-eyed and reeking of her children, fell to the ground. Sliced cleanly from her skull. Speckled with her blood. The vast spider bulk settled down with a thud and a puff of dust. But the torso and head and sentience of her... of it, remained. To be seen by Kasoria as he crouched next to her. Gripping the dagger hilt like it was part of him, inseparable and immutable. Staring into that one remaining black eye as the bifurcated brain tried to make the mouth work. It was done. He had won. She was-

Then Sintra smiled. Face as if she had no wound at all.

"It will not be as easy as that... mortal."

Kasoria's eyes widened and he gripped the hilt with both hands. His muscles tensed as he readied to rip it clean through her brain and she laughed in that moment and before the sawing, cleaving motion was done-

-the dream exploded. The yard. The sky. The daggers and the immortal and the stones and himself last of all. Going back to the waking with a defiant howl, cursing his own mind for having the audacity to tell him the truth.
word count: 809

Appearance

  • Habitually dressed in boots, breeches, tunic, and cloak.
  • Long hair down to the shoulders, usually swept back or in a rough ponytail
  • Prefers a trimmed beard and mustache

Mutations

  • Star-shaped scar on each palm.
  • Air around him seems to thicken and become more turbulent the closer a person gets to him.
  • Pitch black eyes, from tear ducts to the pupils.
  • Arms from shoulder to palms appear as if heavy chains are wrapped around them.
  • Wisps of black smoke constantly drifts around his body, forming the rough outline of a cloak. The more agitated he becomes, the thicker the layers get.
    Note: the torch-motif medallion Kasoria wears negates the visible effects of this mutation.
  • Roughly circular pattern across breastbone, constantly transforming, and resettling
  • Sunken, closed eyes in the back of hands; they open when stared at
  • Skin takes on the tone and quality of whatever material he's just Transmuted
User avatar
Dula
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Posts: 229
Joined: Fri Feb 08, 2019 1:12 am
Race: Mixed Race
Profession: Alchemist and bard
Renown: 35
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Wealth Tier: Tier 3

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Re: III. Love To Hate

DULA TV
Flashy video, beware!
GRADES!


Kasoria

REWARDS

Knowledges:
Acrobatics: Sliding On Knees Under Obstacles (or opponents)
Blades (Dagger): Small Size Makes It Easier to Move Quickly
Blades (Dagger): Crippling Stab to Joints
Dual Wielding: Dagger x Dagger
Endurance: All Pain is the Same; The Amount is All That Varies
Tactics - Capstone: Fighting Monstrous Opponents

Loot: n/a
Injuries: n/a
Wealth: n/a
Renown: n/a

EXP: 10

COMMENTS


This was super hard to read, not because it was bad-- but because it was so real. I felt myself flinching with Kasoria and was really worried about what was going to happen! The ending was perfect as well, I could see in my minds eye him struggling awake, screaming, and just downright pissed about what she said. It was gorey, gross, and raunchy in all the right ways. You storytell very well. Thank you for the great read! Enjoy your grades and some Dula TV, beware-- this video flashes!


word count: 165

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