Portal Breach: The Collision of Worlds :: v.4.0


    Hello Darkness, My Old Friend...

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    Fear
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    Re: Hello Darkness, My Old Friend...

    Post by Fear on Tue Nov 12, 2013 6:57 am

    "One day you shall grow weary of suffering," stated the Dark Judge, "and on that day, that fabled day of Judgement, I will be right there beside you." Mark the fiend's words and mark them well, Miss Hallow. Judge Fear had purged enough mortals to know how they operated by now. It was only a matter of time and, being undead, he had plenty of that lying around. "Low, high; it matters not what the standards are. Doctrines, as are civilizations, are designed to succumb to the ages. They are ephemeral like any corpse rotting within the grave." He will outlast those, too.

    Ah, another question about whether or not he witnessed the countless souls enjoying their new state of being. Hadn't that little gremlin, Aicara of the Sheikah, asked something similar? "It should be known that I am not a ferryman for the dearly departed," Judge Fear clarified. Ugh, what a miserable job that must be. "Rather, I am the first stop before such a ferryman and it is through me that the deceased begin their journey into the next life. Hopefully one without crime and other such iniquitous acts." Do they... they congratulate him on a job well done? The Dark Judge loudly went, "PAH! I never get any recognition for what I do and I've come to expect this behaviour from mortals." A sad, sad state of affairs for Judge Fear. "What I do is for the better judgement of everyone," he continued to hiss. "The living commit nothing but crime - sin! They need to be weeded out and pruned, lest the mortals run rampant and asphyxiate everything with their clumsy, oafish acts." And the ghoul really couldn't skip a good purging massacre now and then, either.

    Hmm? Was that laughter he heard?

    "Mercenary?" the Dark Judge repeated, incredulous. He openly snorted and shook that winged helm of his. "I am inclined to do the good work, not just any work. Money pleases me not; material possessions please me not; fame and infamy please me not; and those of the fairer sex are just distractions. My one desire in undeath is to purge the world - any world - of all crime and bring it closer toward righteousness. That is the oath of a Judge, an oath I have sworn my entire existence by." It may not be glamourous or wealthy, but it was the good work - the virtuous work.

    Miss Hallow wrote:"Who were you? The Leader or The Follower?"
    Clever, clever lass... He knew very much what the mortal was egging at and Judge Fear didn't particularly care for it. However, on the one leathery hand, she had a point. It wasn't a tactful point but it was most assuredly a point. "Because, my dear, when you are immortal and everything around you will inevitably perish, be it by my hand or through time's, you will come to realize that doing the good work is seemingly... impossible by yourself." The ghoul also owed it to Death, seeing as how the latter actually found a way to bestow this... well, the Dark Judge wouldn't call it a gift, exactly, but his train of thought was clear. It was also because the Dark Judges were comrades, both in life and undeath, and none of them had ever thought to usurp the other. If they were all immortal and could easily find one another, what was the point of stirring bad blood?

    "We were all followers of the same tenet," Judge Fear finally answered. It was, ultimately, not his place to question the rank assigned to him. That was mortal rationale, no? "But if you truly must know..." He waved a nonchalant hand and disinterestedly gestured, "You could have considered me a lieutenant - a colleague, if you will. Really, it isn't significant who is who and what is what; so long as the job gets done, that is all that truly matters."

    Although it would be nice if Death didn't keep doing his own thing and landing the rest of the lot into further trouble...

    And could the Dark Judge really do anything? He wasn't so certain of that claim and remained levelheaded. "I can do literally anything but what I want to do," remarked Judge Fear. This was a worse slump than the time he had that chitchat with Emmet McBarlot. For a moment, if ever so brief, Judge Fear wondered if that optimistic old man was doing all right... Had he perished during the cataclysm, too? That was a pity, because the Dark Judge had hoped to relieve McBarlot of his sins at one point. Alas, another golden opportunity to dispense justice wasted... "The Joker was an enigma in and of himself," the ghoul answered. "His mind was ill-suited to inhabit and he was good for nothing more than a few... laughs." There was no avoiding that one. Of course, Judge Fear didn't find himself an aficionado of humour; or, in the Joker's case, fatal gags that resulted in a child's playthings turned into weapons of mass destruction. Guns, bombs, smiley faces... None of that was very refined, see.

    "Eh, we turned him into a being not unlike ourselves and set him loose. It was decent sport for a while but it was very plain that the man's true calling remained elsewhere." Death's great idea, once again... Now, Miss Hallow wanted to know how the Joker purged sinners? At this point Judge Fear was reclined well enough to prop his helm up with a decrepit hand, the Dark Judge lightly shrugging. How he could tolerate those cumbersome mantraps was a mystery. For image, no doubt. "Well, it went something like this: he threw back his scrawny shoulders, opened those plump lips of his, and... laughed. That's it - he just laughed." And he laughed and he laughed and he laughed...

    Death, stick with your day job wrote:"A neat trick, JJJoker! With YOU on the team, they can all die laughhinggggg!"
    Judge Fear recalled everything in vivid detail on that day and placed a hand upon his helm, groaning. "Ugh... Even if the Joker's laughter did cause a sinner's head to rupture, his penetrative cackling was enough to make even me hold my head." If he actually had one, that is.

    "But that's a handful of irradiated beans to the persuasions that I can do," said the fiend, feeling quite confident of his unique ability. Ever shameless in his solicitations for a mortal to invite their own death, the Dark Judge beckoned for Miss Hallow to approach. "Come, come!" Judge Fear urged. "Won't you like to see for yourself the services I can provide on this dull, dreary day? Normally you would perish and I would feel delightfully accomplished, but this world has other ideas. You will not die, that much I am certain." Sadly, he wanted to confess, but that just would not do.

    Still rolling his hand for the mortal to get up and walk this way, the hissing fiend added, "If you are not cowardly enough to refuse my offer, that is."

    What will you do, Miss Hallow? Will you laugh again and stand the Dark Judge down? Or will you grow a pair and approach the grinning spook with an illuminated smile just for you? Whatever she chose, Judge Fear patiently remained seated and stared at her expectantly; half a cigarette left burning between two rotten fingers and the nearby bartender peeking over his counter with timid eyes.
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    Cailia Hallow
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    Re: Hello Darkness, My Old Friend...

    Post by Cailia Hallow on Thu Nov 14, 2013 10:35 pm

    Maybe she would, but in all honestly Cailia would highly doubt it and go against it with every oppositional bone in her body. "What could I grow weary of? Also can't say I believe in any sort of 'fabled' day o' judgement. Heard something like it, but it didn't suit me much." There was no rest for the wicked after all, until they closed their eyes for good. And who would know that better than herself and this man of Law? But much like she had her points, so did he. All things eroded, eaten away as time marched on but still Cailia wouldn't cast out her stands yet, not till they really were nearly crumbled away.

    "I wasn't inclined to think you were. Executioner comes to mind when I give you a good once over. Hopefully? Sounds reassuring enough; like a 50/50 chance, yeah? They might be okay, or they might be fucked. Though once they hit the ground they aren't your problem anymore, right?" Couldn't say she was quite down with those chances, she much rather preferred the safety of 100 percent or even a 90 percent at the lowest. "No good deed goes unpunished. Right? Good work never gets recognition, that is why you have to be infamous. Fame lasts fifteen minutes, infamy lasts forever. And I'm sure your road is paved with good intentions that no one can ever begin comprehending." She wasn't being sarcastic, not exactly any how. She was staring absently, in thought which was not mixing too well with the gratuitous amounts of sips she had taken already.

    Perching her chin on an open palm, she blew a small, silent huff of air in Fear's direction. Everyone had it out for the humble job of being a mercenary. Work was work when you got down to brass tacks. All he had was his work, that was it, his sole reason for even existing she would graciously presume. "Some existence, you can't even complete it here. All that achievement, right down the drain. I can see why you came to a bar. If a bottle can fix it, you haven't tipped enough back." Raising her bottle in example she tipped it back, bemoaning internally that the bottle was going to empty sooner or later, much sooner actually. "I'll tell you something though, this place isn't so bad. I mean, there are some people I'd be first in line to push into traffic. But not going to complain about how I've been able to stack myself up." Cailia wouldn't complain one single bit, in fact, she couldn't wait to be ferried out to Avalon and take a nice long nap.

    "At least when you're alone, you can't be stabbed in the back. Not that it matters much since you are, well you know, dead. Well...a walking dead. Something like that." Or whatever he called himself, she sort of forgot but she just knew it had to do with death, of course. The woman was oddly pleased to hear that he was not the leader, but a lower ranking but he and his brothers were all colleagues, so equal they must be. Fear however didn't put much thought or stock in it, and she would have agreed if not for her penchant for liking to be top dog. "Good thing that line of thinking works here, you'd be great at the monthly apocalypses. Once, people here fought the God of All Gods, Alpha, a really asshole to boot. Didn't win, but didn't exactly loose." And what a mess that had been, that tentacled Cthulhu cousin had to go and mess everything up but luckily it all got fixed somehow, the details were still a little sketchy to her.

    Poor, poor Judge Fear was suffering from what many new comers had to contend with. Want to do something? But not enough dakka behind it, so then hands became idle and gums started to flap faster than the second fastest land animal. "Such is life, yeah? I'm sure it'll all work out eventually or you'll just get kicked up and down the Gamma till you can kick back." It was true, and if only she knew the amounting of dicking the Dark Judge had received, it would have had her howling on the floor like an overgrown child though much blame would fall on the booze for that. Settling back in her mind, and shifting uncomfortably in her chair, the hybrid listened to what The Joker had been cracked up to be. Batshit insane was the first flag she got, along with the obviously stated 'Not much use aside from a good giggle'. And they had made him a Dark Judge. It seemed stupid, She had been under the impression that they would only want themselves to be the dispensers of Justice but apparently Chuckles was uselessly special to them. How adorable. She held a small, tiny sliver of a hope that at least The Joker had murdered in a spectacular style.

    Judge Fear wrote:"Well, it went something like this: he threw back his scrawny shoulders, opened those plump lips of his, and... laughed. That's it - he just laughed."
    She sighed and gave a shake of the head at the cliche that apparently was the man known or formerly known as The Joker. But what could you expect from a name like that? "What a waste. Laughing people to death, whooo, might as well just talk them to death instead." Definitely not impressed one bit. But she perked up as Fear seemed awfully proud of his 'services', to which brought a hoot and a large cattish grin to her face. Oh the things she could say at this precise moment. Cailia would save the remark, though gave a cautionary squint at the Judge as he assured she wouldn't keel over dead as a result.

    "Eeeeeeh..." Was she drunk enough for th-

    Judge Fear wrote:"If you are not cowardly enough to refuse my offer, that is."
    Oh no, Oh no, Oh no you didn't. Well that solved that problem. She had enough alcohol to make a really, really bad choice for today. Resigning with a sigh, Cailia pushed her self from her seat and swayed over the bodies and stood before the Dark Judge. Setting her bottle on the floor, she put her hands on her hips and waited. "All right, let's do this before I change my mind. And if I accidentally punch your helm in, I'm not apologizing." At least she gave fair warning, her reflexes usually seemed to hover on 'Stare' or 'Murder it to death'. Maybe both would happen with Fear.
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    Fear
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    Re: Hello Darkness, My Old Friend...

    Post by Fear on Fri Nov 15, 2013 4:02 am

    What could she grow weary of? The Dark Judge held up a hand and listed examples one decrepit finger by one decrepit finger. Get a good look at those talons, Miss Hallow. "Breathing, eating, sleeping, pissing; all those mundane, wasteful things," the fiend reasoned. Imagine all the work and progress mortals could do if they weren't so concerned with their physical needs! Always determined, Miss Hallow had a flaw shared by every mortal Judge Fear had encountered: stubbornness. "Judgement Day exists when we herald it," he hissed, ethereal voice rattling the very foundations of this building. "Trillions we had ushered into the next life and trillions more shall we further guide." It was how things must be.

    Calling him an executioner was... one way of labeling his profession, Judge Fear supposed. An executioner of the law, perhaps; however, the fiend was much more partial to Judge. Do executioners wear badges and preach about the good work? "The living commit crime unending... That is my problem," the Dark Judge reminded. 50%... 90%... even 100%; what did such numbers matter? The only good number in his book was a flat 0% - the wondrous indicator that all mortals had been successfully... rehabilitated. There was nothing quite like seeing a plump, reassuring zero to brighten one's eternal work day. Miss Hallow was of a differing opinion; something about... infamy and how it lasts much longer than its counterpart? Judge Fear rolled yet another nonchalant hand, not really concerned with how mortals regarded him and his eerie reputation. "When you travel a road that spans into the realm of infinity, you learn to tune such nonsensical white noise out from your conscious and focus on the specifics." If sinners hated him, oh well. If sinners loved him, oh well. If sinners were ignorant of him, oh well to that too. They were all equally sinners in his mind, so why bother assigning them any meaning at all?

    The more he dissected this mortal's words, the more Judge Fear had a greater understanding of what made Miss Hallow the miserable sinner she was today. "We'll have to see about that," the Dark Judge spoke up quietly, intently observing Miss Hallow's movements. Look at her... Drinking with a champion of undeath and not giving one single care in the world. All her talks of infamy... of pleasures in the here and the now... of taking whatever she wanted out of life and not tossing one glance back. She was truly shameless and, for a moment, the Dark Judge stared at her through the misty shroud of cigarette smoke seeping out from his helm.

    Silence, and then...

    "It must be hard," Judge Fear suddenly commented, still lounging back. As for what, exactly, was so hard, the fiend continued, "To travel around in a world such as Portal Breach and continue to derive enjoyment, that is. I can imagine a woman of your, ha ha... unique caliber oftentimes comes at odds with life's consistent stagnation." The Dark Judge lightly tapped his cigarette's butt and let the ash sprinkle downward upon a man's cold, clammy face. "After all, what infamy can you possibly obtain in a vexing prison that humbles everyone - man, woman, and undead super-fiend - to the same playing field? I doubt that suits a charming mercenary such as yourself for very long." Must be rather boring at times and dreadfully so. He then casually added with an innocent gesture, "No structure, no lasting stability, no established pecking order that holds a single ounce of weight. It's just you against the clock and should you choose to foolishly think you can outlast?" Judge Fear didn't bother to suppress a chuckle for he knew better than any mortal alive. "If your burning desire to die doesn't convince you otherwise, then I'm sure a suffocating dose of boredom will. Pushing sinners into traffic can only whet your appetite for so long." The clock always wins - always.

    The mortals will grow restless. Oh yes, they shall grow restless and once they grow restless... They shall decay. It was a war of attrition, if you will. And from decay shall be born entropy, the inevitable fate to await all who stubbornly believe they can survive their coming judgement. This, too, was how things must be.

    Judge Fear merely brought the cigarette before his helm's grating for another drag and knew - knew - that, one way or another, he had already won. It was now just a matter of time. Speaking of time, he had some loose ends that needed tying, hadn't he? Ah well, it was escaping his mind for now. Either because of the smoke's heavy curtain or simply because the ghoul's helm was fashioned that way, the Dark Judge continued to look upon Miss Hallow as if he were smiling. It had to be a trick of the eyes, assuredly. That helm was just a creepy piece of costume and nothing more.

    ...Right?

    "Walking dead? What an interesting twist," he hissed, content about something only he knew. Now the fiend was just making smalltalk. "I prefer the term, Dark Judge, but your label shall do. Refrain from calling me a zombie, however. Those shambling husks are mindless drones and they are good for nothing more than devouring the living and ruining your finest carpeting. We find the name insulting when applied to us." And what's this about a god? Pah, gods. Judge Fear found them to be idols of convenience and little else. Very interesting to hear that this populace struck out against theirs, though. Shouldn't that have merited an early Judgement Day? A pity! Clearly this god, this Alpha, wasn't bold enough to finish the job. "Kick me, break me, toss my body into a vat of your most corrosive acid and then dispense of the remains as you please - it all matters little. This current corpse is a loan, anyway." It wasn't his original body, he could tell you that much. Where even was that poor shell by now? "And glad to hear that someone finally sees the absurdity in death by laughter. Exploding a sinner's head is by far much too easy and unsatisfying. Why, you can hardly savour their rising fear." Oh right, right. Now the Dark Judge remembered: he had a certain pompous vehicle to aid. He darn near forget, silly him~! Not really, K.A.R.R. could rot for a little while longer.

    But first... Judge Fear sat up just a wee bit straighter, the glowing pinpricks that could possibly be his eyes intensifying. Oh goodie! Miss Hallow wasn't a coward after all and had agreed to take up his offer! "Splendid! This won't take much of your time out of your busy schedule at all, I promise." And we all know how much of an honest man Judge Fear was, didn't we?

    Miss Hallow wrote:"And if I accidentally punch your helm in, I'm not apologizing."
    Joy. The Dark Judge flinched at that, recalling a few choice memories, but managed to shove them aside. "Understood," he hissed, a little too excited for his own damned good. Eh, if he lost this particular helm the Dark Judge will just... find or sculpt another one, he reasoned. Bah, that can be worried about later! Now he had a sinner to judge! Er, to scare...

    Beckoning the woman even closer with a bony finger, Judge Fear leaned forward while still seated. Together both sinner and Judge were finally eye-to-helm, and the fiend could barely hide his increasing anticipation. Don't mind the excessive hissing and stench of death too much, Miss Hallow. You were currently mere inches from a Dark Judge, lucky you! "I can smell your fear," Judge Fear whispered, his grave voice reverberating within the sinner's unguarded mind. Ah, she was no Psi! Not even a lowly cadet, even. Perfect! Outwardly his claws stretched, the Dark Judge reaching up with a single finger to gingerly slide one nail beneath his helm's grating. "You carry yourself so well... so defensively. I wonder, my dear... Do you realize just how vulnerable you are?" Do you, Miss Hallow? Enough with the stalling! The Dark Judge peeled back the grating by its hinge in one fluid motion and bared himself at last to the sinner. Gaze! Gaze and see...

    ...nothing but a wall of smoke?

    Inside the undead man's helm was nothing but a cloud - a swirling mass of second hand fumes. There was nothing to be seen at all! Was this some kind of trick? A joke? Miss Hallow would see no face, no eyes, no mouth; how did the ghoul even smoke, let alone drink? Perhaps it was a mystery and suddenly, without warning, that plume of foul-smelling cancer blew over Miss Hallow as if by a gentle breath. How...  There was no head in this thing! There were, however, lights - two soft, blinking lights.

    In the fog of tobacco stirred a pair of ethereal eyes, their white-hot centers boring onto Miss Hallow. "It is time..." said a voice, an unseen presence digging itself - uncomfortably - further into the woman's mind. Something icy and leathery gripped themselves around Miss Hallow's warm neck and she was roughly dragged closer; much closer than she may have ever desired to be. Too late! There was no escape, sinner! Pay the price for your wicked ways and repent!

    "Gaze into the face of Fear and know JUSTICE!"
    A terrible flash burned through Miss Hallow's retinas and the woman felt her mind rapidly plunge into bottomless despair. What did you see in the gale? What did you see as everything you knew spun wildly around you? What did you see as your heart and mind sought to explode from your very bones!?

    Within the churning madness Miss Hallow saw the countless faces of ages past and present swirl around her... The faces of friends and foes, the faces of familiarity and the unknown, the faces of business and pleasure; every soul she had encountered, every person who knew her name, was here... looking down upon her with distorted grins and sneers. As these fine grains of memories violently churned in this nightmarish vortex, Miss Hallow lost in a sea of her mind's own devising, a familiar voice laughed from the turbulent beyond. "Gaze upon them, Miss Hallow, GAZE!" demanded a disembodied Judge Fear. "Behold the many souls your presence has touched... Behold the many souls that will soon forget!" One by one, face by face, they began to disappear... The first to vanish were those she hardly cared for; the mindless nobodies that existed within her mind's eye and nothing more. Things began to steadily worsen.

    Next were her friends...
    Next were her business partners...
    Next was her family...

    They don't remember you, Miss Hallow... None of them remember who you are, what you are, how little you've done. You're just a ghost - a specter. A haunt of time and nothing more... Hear how they laugh at you, foolish woman. Hear how they laugh and belittle you, their cruel comments making light of your impossible goals.

    You wish to be infamous? With what achievements!? You've done nothing, woman, nothing! You were useless, weak! How could you ever compare to the sheer might of others before you?

    In the distance walked a man; a man tall and slender. The roaring maelstrom parted, its winds emptied of laughing souls, leaving Miss Hallow to entertain the company of this mysterious figure...

    "Miss Hallow," said he, his hair lengthy and kissed by silver. Eyes were hidden behind the shades of night and he glanced down at the woman, scorn noticeable. "Thou art nothing more than a drunkard - a mockery to thine profession of mercenary," he spoke, contempt saturated upon a refined tongue. The man drew both lips into a thin, disapproving line and dismissed Miss Hallow with a clawed hand. "Thine embarrassment is too much to stomach. Thou brings nothing but great shame and disrespect and thine misconduct shall be tolerated no more. The fires of Lochlann should have claimed thee when given the chance." To the fires of Hell with you, woman!

    And so it was decreed.

    The very ground beneath Miss Hallow's feet shattered and crumbled away like glass... the woman suddenly dangling over a chasm of bubbling magma. This was all very familiar, wasn't it? Do you feel how the soles of your footwear begin to melt into your skin? Do you feel the rising heat prick the back of her neck and make your palms sweat? Do you feel it, Miss Hallow? Do you feel the end of your worthless life drawing near?

    All the while Miss Hallow's finely-dressed companion approached the edge of this hellish pit and gazed downward at her, eyes concealed but satisfaction palpable. "Pathetic," he remarked, a corner of his pale lips upturning with disgust. "To the flames thou art cast, Miss Hallow. To the flames thou shall be forgotten and thine miserable stench no more." Lifting up one of his boots, the man brought them crashing down upon Miss Hallow's fingertips and dug in his heels; her bones audibly cracked. The ledge then gave way and she fell... Miss Hallow plummeting into the gaping cauldron of Hell itself and thought of no more.

    Effaced.

    Miss Hallow's mind slipped into nothingness, the Dark Judge's sadistic laughter the last thing she heard before all became black... Should she awaken, be it by anger or fear that compelled her thoughts, Miss Hallow shall find a very choice bottle of whiskey waiting for her. On its surface, in crudely carved letters, read:

    To the sinner who wants it all. Hope it was as good for you as it was for me. Cheers! - Fear.
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    Cailia Hallow
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    Re: Hello Darkness, My Old Friend...

    Post by Cailia Hallow on Mon Nov 25, 2013 12:19 am

    Breathing heavily. mostly in exasperation she rolled her eyes in turn. Hadn't he heard of how sometimes simplicity was all worth living for apparently? Cailia saw no appeal in simple living, and could hardly stand to be without a handful of luxuries. The previously mentioned things were just the facts of life, could begrudged what was biologically needed to continuing living. "What is wasteful? I mean all those things go towards a greater purpose in the end. And the end game is what matters more than how it is all played out." She was stubborn, but why not for the woman was quite fond of her current existing condition and was in no real hurry to move past it. A closed lipped smile now replaced her grin, and Cailia regarded the Dark Judge for a silent moment before she parted her lips to speak. "Judgement Day. Judgement." Her lip tipped down into a sneer as she glanced irately to her bottle. "Judgement Day." Cailia repeated before turning her gaze back onto the Ghoul, her previous sneer wiped clean from the slate and replaced with that easy going grin. "But there is no we, for you anymore. There is just a lonely I. You may have been the trembling of the end days, but what can you really hope to do all on your own? Honestly, she was curious as to what one of a quartet would do. He missed his brothers, or at least she'd be as bold to assume that much as they were all undead ghoulies out to do the Good work of Justice.

    "It sounds like you concerned yourself with the wrong problem. Why try to fix what is going to be inherent for some people? Let them murder each other to figure it out, because the way I've seen it is that people fight for all reasons but it comes down to this; they fight to live or they fight to die." People really were uncomplicated at the bare boned mess of it all. Even though she knew that, here she was staring a being whom might be transcendent in nature, or perhaps that wasn't the best word for him. Cailia might have foolishly wished for such an existence, but gazing upon this Judge and the condition he seemed to be in. Power or the luxuries of life? What a hard decision, but looking upon the end game, the devil woman knew what her choice would be. Taking a moment to revel in the smoky quiet, she looked down to the table and begun to fixate her attentions to memorizing the worn table surface.

    The Judge wrote:"It must be hard,"
    Hmmm?

    Slowly looking up, fingers tracing where her eyes left of, she supposed she ought entertain this new thought that was going to be laid plain to her. And boredom, her life entangled and entrapped by the endless stagnation that Portal Breach catered freely. Propping her chin on a free hand, she stared at him and wonder how he was able to deduce things a little accurately. It must be all though laborious years spent doing his good work or maybe he was just intuitive. Hard to say, but frankly she wouldn't be in line to agree with no pecking or or stability. "Maybe at one point I did, but you see I always find a way to keep myself amused. Whether it be with work or my own personal pursuits or just the suffering of others. Sure we might've started out on the same playing field but I made the effort to gain power. As much as you may think otherwise, I am quite content to life my life on the run. And what about you?" Cailia paused, motioning widely to his handiwork with a air of irritation, she saw this display as a branch of stagnation, of boredom]/i]. "Ha...Ha, if anything the one who has stagnated is you. So in the end, who is the bored one out of our pair?" Maybe it struck a tender nerve, Cailia liked to think that her existence was quite lively with a few and sparse patches of boredom.

    A [i]twist
    you say? And somewhere M Night. was sniffing the air gleefully at the notion. However Cailia was quite interested to learn that Judge Fear's body was of no consequence and hat would be filed away till she sought out for better use. "I'm being inclined to think that the phrase 'Hurt me Harder' must come into play often in your line of work." he devil-woman tipped up a smirk at the expense of the Dark Judge. As many had said, she had no shame. But she nodded most agreeably at the notion of a murder causing laugh was just flat out stupid, and not nearly as satisfying as say decapitation and lighting the headless body on fire. Ah, the good old days. The days that Cailia had to pick and choose of what she remembered, she hadn't recalled being so adverse to remembering her feats. But then again, those feats had a partner to help them along. A smirk widened to a grin as it seemed Judge Fear was living up to name as he was verbal popping a chubby at any mention of fear. A fear-boner she would dare say, not out loud, thought it was quite tempting.

    Cailia under the barest visages of a buzz left her with a resounding inability to listen to the better sense, no matter how cowardly and rudely decline the offer to gaze into the mysterious helm. But as proven before, alcohol was not conducive to correct judgement. Snorting and giving a fleeting squint in the Dark Judge's direction before huffing as she stood before him. "Tell me a promise I haven't heard before, Fear. And I might believe you." She reveled in his flinching but otherwise attempted to remain impassive at the prospect of fear but frankly the word brought up the wholly unpleasant recollections of Lochlann, and with that place the images seared into her mind of Bloodscream. Now it was her turn to give a shudder before resuming the uncaring facade.



    Not so Fresh and Clean wrote:"I can smell your fear,"
    How, how could he smell her fear over his own stench, the world would never know nor would the patrons of this unlucky bar. But Cailia would always wonder if the stench would somehow permanently curl inside her nostrils for the rest of her life. "I wish it was the only thing I could smell." Much rather than Ode au la Morte. But the woman was quite deadlocked now, no turning back and she gritted those teeth and bore unamused eyes into the grating as the voice rumbled through her mind with those carefully picked words.

    Defensively.

    Vulnerable.

    She frowned into the smoke...not the face she was expecting to be there, no withered and decaying husk o a head nor a boney grin. Just a thick, mass of smoke from the cigarette hanging loftily within. Cailia was confused, of course to be expect as smoking usually entailed a few components such as a mouth to inhale and exhale with. Judge Fear seemed to just turn laws of nature right on their heads, heads were so late fall, right? The beginnings of a sigh were ready to erupt but as she breathed in the smoke was washed over her face and the hybrid was reduced to a coughing, sputtering state. Wheezing for a moment, she unleashed a fruitless glare to the Judge, clearly finding nothing funny in his attempt to give the gift of lung diseases and staring right into those lights. Whether they were lights, eyes or whatever, she focused on them twitching as the smallest of voices twisted into her mind. That wasn't important, was it? Anger was, indigence was as well. Out of a reflex, her arm began o raise slowly, preparing to lop one right in the helm until the cold and clammy hands of the Judge wrapped around her neck. Shivering and faltering on contact, nearly losing balance her arm cocked back fully ready to clear his shoulders of a unneeded burden.



    Oh crap wrote:"Gaze into the face of Fear and know JUSTICE!"
    And then it was a spiral downward, the thought of regret lost in the maelstrom of images and pictures moving and tossing in and out of sight as the descent continued. The images flitered from nonsense until they all began to make sense; it was all faces and she knew them all whether they were personal or the passing fancy were all there. Looking up as they gazed down, she wanted to snarl up at them, tear them down to size for how could they dare to look down on herb. She was above them! She was BETTER.

    But...she wanted them to stay focused on her. And if she could blanch upon the sound of that all too familiar voice, as it tugged upon the back of her skull. Cailia seized up with...panic? What was the feeling, she didn't want to say fear but something told her as the faces faded into the bleak oblivion, the hybrid knew it. The devil-woman knew not what to do as the blankness, the emptiness that entailed with being forgotten expanse she found herself lost within. She had nothing here, no upper hand nor a smarmy smug existence. She was nothing. That was solidly what most of her mere heart had beat for all the years spent toiling away, to be someone that all would one day know.

    Now what did it matter? With the truth of fear, came the embrace of despair. But all was not over, punishment was a long time coming, and crueler yet. For who should dare part the whispering, laughing sea but the one who held a fraction of her fears.At first the words he spoke, washed over yet slide nearly wayward as insults were what she thrived on, after all they usually proved to be dead wrong and whoever dared to say otherwise ended up much the same if she could have her way. Yet, there was something wrong as the words took hold like the smallest of seeds and began to thrive ,to sprout and spread as Cailia stare remained fixated on the specter of the pale man. Indignation would be too small a feeling but anger and fear would battle, as she would always be the first to deny that she  was no more than a pathetic drunkard and mockery. How dare he, the one who lost his obviously atrophied mind in Lochlann and still had the gall to demean her.

    Perched precariously on her knees, readying to make some motion before those dreaded words did escape from the thin lips of the bar keep.

    The fire should have claimed her.

    And in a blink the ground was no more and she was hanging from the edge of the abyss the cursed heat licking her back and neck and the familiar pain of melting shoes sinking into the soles of her feet. A yowl of pain tore from her throat as Cailia dug her nails in harder, mind scrabbling to find the suitable response until the face that haunted her peered downward at her once more, pleased with what it saw.

    Pathetic, he said.

    To the flames to be forgotten, he said.

    Caught in the web of words, she desperately wanted to cling, climb and run back to the safety...of...where? Where could you be safe and where could she go to never be found. No place that existed. Staring up to Bloodscream and eyes wide, she once more howled as the crunch of bones beneath a grinding boot snapped the barely holding grip and soon the gentle tongue of heat on her back evolved into the spreading fire, Bloodscream shrinking as she screamed into the fiery abyss to be met with fire, and then, nothing.

    It was black now, cold even in the depths of peace, in the dark spaces of nothingness. But no mind can stay forever in such a state and it did not take too long for Cailia to ellict a waking scream and proceed to punch the closest body thrice before coming to natural senses. Looking from side to side, feeling the a different heat starting, the kind that brought some to conquer and others to murder, Fear would soon find out why and how she got to where she was now. Standing, albeit shakily she saw the bottle and sneered openly before approaching it with suspicion.

    She read the carved inscription, feeling the blood that had run cold with fear warm up in a snap to the seething anger that had gone unknown for a while was snatched up. Cailia gave no final glance to the bar, no passing gaze to the bodies that fell under her foot as she made her way to the door. Slamming a boot with far more force that needed, a enraged woman was no loose on the streets, not looking for the Dark Judge who was long gone but looking to find a way to get rid of the feeling that had settled in her stomach.

    Irrational.
    Illogical.
    Unprecedented.

    Fear.

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    Re: Hello Darkness, My Old Friend...

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      Current date/time is Sat Feb 17, 2018 6:11 pm