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Post by Grim on Feb 1, 2009 23:55:24 GMT -5
It was late afternoon and the heat of the sun was bearing down. People bustled about the town square on their way from one sector to the next or just wandering about. Warm weather always seemed to bring people out of their homes and those were the best times for a person of a questionable nature to be out and about as well. Grim liked to wander through the populated public areas at peak times to get a little work done and make sure no one was infringing on his territory.
The heat was too much to bear wearing his long trench coat, so Grim had to leave the sword on his back unconcealed during days like that. Many people carried weapons though, so the only compromise it made was that people would know he was carrying one if they decided to act all righteous with him. he had plenty of pockets in his cargo pants to store the money and various items that he stole, and the muscles on his arms and chest made him intimidating enough through the tight muscle shirt that he wore to scare the young riff raffs in the street who thought they could rip people off without his consent.
Grim walked past an alley on the edge of the square lining the commercial district and took a step back to look down the alley. Squinting as he peered down the dark corridor of the narrow alley, he watched a teenaged boy running out the back door of a shop and ran up the alley followed by what was obviously an attendant of the store. When the boy came closer to the end of the alley, Grim was able to finally see his face and determined that he did not know him at all. Grim started walking into the alley towards the swiftly oncoming teenager. The boy seemed to completely ignore his presence and tried to run right past him. Grim wouldn’t let that happen though and with one arm out, slammed his palm forcefully against the boy’s chest, sending him flying backwards to fall to the ground on his back completely winded.
Grim then kneeled down and lifted the exasperated boy by the collar and slammed him back down against the pavement, causing him to groan, almost scream, and then took the sac that the boy had dropped when he fell and put it in his pocket. The store clerk who had pursued the boy stopped in his tracks about fifteen feet back from them and looked on with a worried and unsure expression. Without looking up at the man, Grim lifted the boy by the collar once more with one hand and drove his other hand, fist clenched, into his face. “You wanna steal shit in this town, you come through me, you got it?” Grim growled at the boy in his hands, then lifted him as he stood and threw him down to the ground. “What?” he barked threateningly at the man watching from in the alley as he looked up at him. the man didn’t say anything, just shook his head and turned around and ran.
Leaving the teenaged boy with his bloody lip crawling to get up off the alley floor, Grim walked casually back out into the city square and continued his daily tour. There was a soldier of the city guard headed in his general direction, so Grim stepped into a small shop in a strip that lined the side of the square. He was reasonably certain that the guard didn’t know who Grim was, but probability was always on his side if he never took the chances. This was one of the shops where the guild collected service fees, so Grim walked up to the counter. “Well I think it’s that time of month John.” He said to the man behind the counter.
“No.” the shop keeper said sharply, “I paid you yesterday Grim.”
“I don’t remember that.” Grim replied with a shrug and a short shake of his head.
“I don’t make enough money to pay you twice.”
“You’ll make less if you don’t pay me.” He replied as he stretched his arms and a large glass ware shattered on the ground.
“Bastard!” the shop keeper proclaimed, swiftly leaning over the counter to look at the shattered ornament on the floor. “That piece was expensive.”
“So pay your dues.”
“I did damn it.” The man shook his head and reached into his money drawer. “But fine, I’ll pay it again.”
After having killed that time in the shop, Grim walked out into the square again with a fuller pocket. Deciding to wander away from the edges, he walked towards the centre of the square where he saw a small boy, perhaps six years old running towards the market with a fist full of coins. Passing next to the child, Grim knelt down and gave him a little shove, knocking him to the ground and causing him to spill his coins. While the boy, shocked, started to get up, Grim picked up the coins from the cobblestone ground and dropped them in his own pocket. Exasperated, the boy’s jaw dropped. “That’s mine!” the boy said definitively. “My mom needs bread and meat for dinner.”
“So tell your mom to go buy bread and meat for dinner.” Grim told the boy, then shoved him down again, got up, and walked away towards the masses of people in the center of the square.
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Post by Surreal on Feb 2, 2009 9:40:10 GMT -5
Damn days like this. Hot, hot, hot. The heat always got to people's heads in the worst way possible. In this kind of heat, people began to feel desperate. Sweat slicked their bodies, made them feel squirmy, made them feel as if they could slither through the streets and cause trouble without consequence. It was in this heat, above all others, that the sludge of society rolled from their houses with a whistle on their lips and a spring in their steps.
It was weather like this that made Surreal positively furious. She couldn't wear her cloak because it was too hot, but she couldn't go without a cloak because her sickly white skin burned if she so much as waved a toe out the door. Her day would have gone so much better if she had never decided to venture into town that day. That morning she had almost convinced herself not to leave The Odysey. She had just finished applying her heavy eyeliner and was smoothing cool blue lipstick on when she thought to herself how useless a trip to the market square was that day. She had enough bread to last her through tomorrow, she didn't need any meat. She had paused, put down her lipstick, and stared at herself in the mirror. Seconds, minutes, hours ticked by. It was the thought of a nice cool roast beef sliding down her throat that made her pick up her lipstick and begin applying her makeup again. It was the thought of that roast beef being accompanied by a sharp cheddar cheese that got her 5'4" frame out the door. It was the painful weight of her cloak that almost made her turn back. And yet, that desire for cheddar and beef gripped her, shook her like the play toy she was to her cravings, and pushed her firmly towards the square.
She should have never left, because if she hadn't, she wouldn't have seen that man abuse the boy in broad daylight in front of a whole slew of people who did nothing. She never would have tripped over the cobble stone path to help pick him up. She certainly never would have run after the man.
"Hey! Hey you! Get back here." Furious with herself for not exercising more often, Surreal sprinted towards that scarred man. She ignored the blur of the crowd, the sickening smell of sweat and disgusting feel of slick skin sliding past hers. She pushed and shoved her way through until she was just behind him.
Surreal was panting. She was sweating heavily. Her lipstick was smudged. Her eyes burned. She. Was. Pissed.
"I said, hey! You! Slow down now."
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Post by Grim on Feb 3, 2009 0:26:14 GMT -5
‘Oh God!’ Grim thought, as he rolled his eyes hearing a woman’s voice screaming out at him from behind; one of those people being all righteous on him. That was exactly the kind of thing that pissed Grim off. He didn’t turn around though, and he didn’t slow down. Damned if he was going to listen to the sniveling demands of some righteous wench; not that he was moving very fast in the first place.
The woman continued to pursue him, and finally Grim turned his head to look back, though he never slowed down like she demanded. The powerful man’s eyes squinted in shock when he saw her. This woman was tiny, sickly thin and grossly pale. Perhaps the girl was actually pretty, but she certainly was not in proper shape. “Wow.” He exclaimed aloud before turning his head forward again and continuing on his way, “You’re such a feeble tramp, aren’t you?”
Grim shook his head and put his hands in his pockets. “Anyways,” he started again, “I have things to see and people to do, so why don’t you take a breath, recuperate, and be on your way?” he never did understand why people had to take offence to him when they weren’t even the victims of his attack. He could see why the little boy was crying, he understood the shop keeper’s frustration, and he could imagine the pain of the teenaged boy in the alley, but there seemed no reason for passers by to be so taken by what he had done. What did it matter to her anyways? That pathetic thing was a waste of space.
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Post by Surreal on Feb 3, 2009 10:25:18 GMT -5
He dismissed her. He, the pathetic normal human, dismissed her, a necromancer! Rage blinded Surreal. She followed him by the glow of pain and death that surrounded him. She could tear him apart right now! Bam! Everything over! She heard a raven's squawk, one of her own undead preparing to descend upon them. Suddenly she could think clearly again and she held up a staying hand. This one thief was terrible, but it was obvious the king was bidding such brutality from his men. Just killing this one might not fix the problem.
Perhaps they don't need to be killed, Surreal mused to herself. There are plenty of graves with enough coin to spare, and deeper than men can plunder. The dead can bring me tribute, and I, she paused here, considering, I can hand it over to humans.
"I have a proposition for your king," Surreal whispered, her voice gone throaty and seductive. It was the voice death promised you peace with before it wrapped vanilla fingers around your throat and squeezed. That voice traveled down her link to the death surrounding this man. She did not want to know how many men he had killed. "A really, really good one."
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Post by Grim on Feb 4, 2009 1:32:02 GMT -5
Grim laughed as he walked, he actually laughed. It was not a kind and happy laugh. It was a deep; dark and sarcastic laugh, almost sinister, almost a cackle. Nosy, self righteous do gooders were a common occurrence to the king of thieves, but ‘a proposition’ was not normal. “And who in the name of hell are you?” he asked condescendingly as he not stopped, but backed up and turned around to face his pursuer in a manner that would highly likely result in a hard collision. He was a big enough man though, and certainly strong. This woman following him, he had seen was quite small, and also already out of breath.
“You look like a pretty sorry excuse for a woman to me.” Grim said, looking down at the little woman. “The king wont have you.” He continued, shaking his head. “Too thin, too pale, too much makeup. Also, he doesn’t want to catch anything.”
Grim turned then, and continued on his way. He couldn’t think what the sickly girl was thinking to offer, but somehow he couldn’t imagine it being anything helpful. More than that, he simply didn’t trust her. She did after all, chase him down for stealing some coins. How could a person like that have anything good to offer the thieves? The last thing Grim needed was expose the guild to a conscience. How ever would he promote cruelty and ruthlessness then?
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Post by Surreal on Feb 4, 2009 14:56:47 GMT -5
The man's sarcastic laugh sent shivers over Surreal's form. She might be connected with the grave in an unholy way, but she was still sweet at heart. That laugh made her nervous that perhaps she was getting in over her head. When he asked who in the hell she might be, she couldn't even summon indignation. This man, she felt, could bring out the darkness she kept caged deep within her. When he turned suddenly, she almost ran into him. She would, should, have run into him. A tug at the back of her cloak told her why she had not. People gasped, but she refused to pay attention to them.
Instead, Surreal SaDiablo stared up into the eyes of an absolutely ruthless man. Her undead ravens may have held her cloak to keep her from running into him, but they could not save him from the cold look he gave her. When he told her the king wouldn't have her, she felt a treacherous gladness swell up inside of her. She did not want the king to have her. She was downright happy she looked like death in that very moment.
She almost gave up. It was a very near thing. Her thoughts wandered back to the boy in the street and she knew she couldn't. Reaching beneath her cloak, she sliced on of her fingers on her blade. She knew the runes on her sword were glowing blue even though she couldn't see them beneath her cloak. With a shudder, she called forth the bones of people who had been lynched in the square. Luckily, there were tons to choose from.
A wall of bones shot forth from the ground a few feet in front of Grim. The bones tossed people out of their way as they built themselves into a six foot solid wall. They had just reached a pathway, so the bones cut the street of on one side while Surreal cut it off from the other. It was thick, sturdy, and caused screams to pierce the air. People scurried away from the bones, scrambled from the square until it was empty. Eyes peeked at the scene from shop windows.
Surreal stood calmly within the square, her hood over her face so she would be unrecognizable to all. An army of undead ravens swirled around her and in the sky, looking like a furious black tornado. One raven missing half its skull perched on her shoulder. She turned her head and kissed his beak.
"Hello, Rave. I was just asking this nice man to escort me to the king of thieves. Sweetheart, do you think the bones will make it hard to get there?" Rave squawked his pleasure. It had been so long since he saw his mistress use the power she was born to hold.
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Post by Grim on Feb 6, 2009 0:58:04 GMT -5
Grim stopped in his tracks and let out a heavy sigh as he looked at the wall of bones ahead of him and shook his head. He had considered climbing over it, but how desperate would that have looked? A lot of good it would do him anyways, the woman was still there watching.
“I guess that answers my question.” He said as he turned around and started walking back in the woman’s direction. “I wasn’t really interested to know though.” He continued as he approached her, frustrated at the unnecessary obstacle this presumptuous woman had caused. It had been completely uncalled for. There was no reason that he should be relevant to the woman, though king of thieves he may be.
“Why would the king of thieves want a righteous outsider brought to his audience?” he asked as he bumped the woman and walked passed her. “That was rhetorical by the way.” he added immediately after. Obviously this woman was a necromancer, and a powerful one too. This only made her more untrustworthy, since she should be dark and sinister, but was noble instead. How could he trust someone so capable yet so poorly focused? She was a waste not only of a human form, but of the powers that she held. Grim was disgusted, he was appalled.
“No more bones please.” Grim yelled back. “I don’t have any to pick with you.”
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Post by Surreal on Feb 6, 2009 12:16:53 GMT -5
His pun was horrible, but it made Surreal giggle. The thief was so calm and collected about everything...but she had a feeling he would have a soft spot for something in particular. With a wince, she sliced a second finger on her sword. A gray, rotting hand shot up out of the ground in front of Grim. In its bony grasp was a diamond the size of a goose egg. Surreal ran around Grim, right up to the diamond and grinned at Rave.
"Look, Rave, the dead have brought us tribute. How sweet. My dear friend," she smoothed her hands over the bones and enjoyed the cold sense of welcome. "that is not necessary. Please, return to your grave and find peace." The earth swallowed the hand back, diamond and all.
"Yes, your king probably wouldn't want anything from me." With a shrug, she began to walk away. Behind her, the bone wall crumbled back into the earth. The square looked as if nothing had ever disturbed it. In fact, all of Surreal's ravens had disappeared except for Rave, who was sitting on his mistress's shoulder. He seemed to have a joy about him, although he remained completely still.
"Perhaps tonight, my Rave, I will allow you to feast on some bunny. Would you like that, Rave?" He pecked gently at her ear in agreement, then took back his soldier's post.
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Post by Grim on Feb 6, 2009 18:03:14 GMT -5
Grim slowed to a stop as the sickly looking necromancer ran out in front of him to peer at the skeletal hand holding out a giant diamond from the ground. As he stopped, he took a big sniff from the air and then another as he glanced from the diamond to the little woman before him. “A trap?” he asked to no one in particular; more so to no one at all . “A trick? A treacherous plot?” he continued redundantly.
“Nothing comes for free, necromancer.” Grim stated definitively as he continued to walk just as the woman did. “Nothing comes without a price unless you simply take what you want. I can’t imagine what you would ask of the king in return that would make your proposition worth your while.”
Grim was simply walking, all be it in the same direction as the woman. He had never really had a destination to begin with, had always just been walking. Knowing what the woman was thinking to offer him if she had known who he was, Grim couldn’t help but investigate what she wanted in return. He still didn’t trust the woman to tell her he was king. What if it was a trick? A sting? She did after all, originally chase him because he stole a few coins. What a hassle that had been. There was a chance he may be willing to part with or to compromise on what she wanted, though unlikely, but how was he to trust a kind hearted necromancer?
There was also a chance that Grim was getting in over his head, though that chance seemed pretty slim. Risks were the basis of his business, though they were all calculated ones. He had a lot of resources at his disposal, and if he had to, he could always outsource to other shady faculties. This could become one of such sources if the offer was right. Careful though, Grim didn’t want to get caught in the middle of the square by a righteous necromancer revealing himself the king of thieves.
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Post by Surreal on Feb 6, 2009 19:24:36 GMT -5
"All I ask," Surreal grimaced, "is that you stop abusing those who cannot help themselves." She was disgusted with herself, and with him. When did anyone have to trade the treasures of the grave to prevent the abuse of the living? Her pale face was almost glowing with the prospect, a sickening light coming out of her deathly countenance. It was obvious that dealing with the grave was taking its toll from her. If she did this for extended periods of time, it would surely consume her. The health of the many, however, mattered to her more than her own lonely health.
Surreal reached out one skeletal hand as if to pet a corpse that wasn't there. Rave squawked his annoyance and she grinned, petting him instead. She had been this close to the grave before, perhaps it wouldn't suck her in.
"The grave could pay tribute to your king and then you could stop your abuse of the poor. Does that seem like a fair trade?" This felt dangerous. The situation sept into Surreal's bones until she was visibly shaking. She knew that giving herself up to the grave would let it consume her. Was it a fair trade? Were the poor of this land worth the agony she would suffer to keep them from being abused? It was a concerning matter, of course, but she was willing to make the deal without dwelling on the consequences for too long.
"My fee, my dear, is set. All your king has to do is accept. My tribute, the grave's tribute, for obviously you know what I am, and he never pushes a boy to get his mother's coin again. He never hurts an innocent again. Not a shopkeeper, not a son or daughter, not a single soul in this entire country. No one save for the grave suffers for his sins."
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Post by Grim on Feb 7, 2009 3:33:15 GMT -5
Grim flailed one arm through the air in frustration as he walked. “What you ask is to forsake a way of life” he translated aloud. “It won’t happen.” He continued determinedly, shaking his head. “The king is responsible for a society of thieves, not pansy, spoiled brats.” He stated disgustedly. What did this woman think they were? What feeble idea did she have of thieves?
“Thieving is a way of life, necromancer, not a means to an end. We thieve because it’s who we are, not only for the riches that we gain, but for the principle of seizing the day.” As vile as Grim was, he was actually shocked. This woman seemed to think that Grim and all his people would be content to have tribute without effort, that they would have treasure without first earning it. “Given all the treasures of the grave, there would yet be the treasures of the living. What sad life it would be to content ones self without ambition. To seize the day, to take ones worth, to decide for one’s self what is to be theirs, is what gives our lives purpose.” The king of thieves was animated by then, he was passionate about what he was saying, he was livid at what the woman had suggested.
“What kind of world do you dream we live in?” he asked sternly, a disgusted look upon his face. “Do you imagine that people are happy just to be subdued? To be calm and comfortable? People thrive on conflict, they need tension. Without that, no one would even know peace.” Grim shook his head and stopped in his path, letting the woman wander off if she would.
“There can be no good without evil.” He said finally, turning to walk the other way. Perspective was the foundation of life and the thieves added a certain risk for everyone. It made people appreciate what they had.
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Post by Surreal on Feb 7, 2009 12:58:27 GMT -5
Surreal felt bitterness swell up inside her until it was choking her. She was evil, an incarnation of it. This chill inside of her was not a gift from above, and yet even it could not save the people. She knew that one day it would consume her, and it would have made her feel better to know some good would come of the exchange. Instead, she had to live with the knowledge that people would never benefit from her pain.
In, fact, some people chose to be consumed by the evil she fought. Instead of allowing her to be the evil that allows the world to have good, they just poured more and more sinister energy in until good became a lie, something no one could find.
"I know evil," she whispered, knowing he heard her. "I am supposed to be the opposite of good. Normal humans, people like you, are supposed to hunt me. You are supposed to be the good in this world. You are supposed to hunt me to my death bed and pray that no one like me every exists again."
As she had spoken, her voice raised in volume. She was now yelling, furious tears turning icy rivers down already freezing cheeks. "Feel my hands," she shouted, running over to grab his. "Humans were never supposed to be this cold!" Wiping one shaking hand across her face, she came back with a tanner. Most people assumed her sickly countenance was pale because she didn't use makeup. Makeup made her look like she had the flu...without it...
Her skin, where she had smudged off the makeup, was translucent. It was a soft blue-ish white, each vein visible beneath her skin. It was a disgusting shade of death. She looked like a zombie, had to suffer the evil inside of her, and he threw away the good within him like it wasn't a gift.
"You were given a boon the day you were born. You were given good, and have rejected it. How is someone born without that gift supposed to survive knowing others have thrown it away. You disgust me!"
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Post by Grim on Feb 8, 2009 5:17:38 GMT -5
“The world is a dark and sinister place.” Grim retorted quite seriously. “I never rejected anything about myself. I am who I am and I’m actually proud of it. I take what I want and I live like I want.”
The thief king, still not telling who he was, shook himself free of the pitiful woman’s grasp. “You deny who you are and you shame me thinking that I’m the same?” he raged, and then spat on the ground beside her. “You’re a hypocrite, and the world does not exist to defy you. The world is bigger than you, it is darker than you. You disgust me!” he returned, finally, and threw up an arm to strike the sickly necromancer woman with a firm back hand.
The very thought that a necromancer could try to be righteous was appalling. The idea that such a distorted person could condemn a thief for being as he was, was even worse. What had the world come to when those endowed with such great power rejected their very nature? Clearly, people like Grim were the ones who would have to put balance in the world.
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Post by Surreal on Feb 8, 2009 17:06:45 GMT -5
Surreal was so stunned by the speech, she barely saw the hand coming. When she finally noticed it, she knew she couldn't have avoided it either way. At the very last moment before she was struck, she allowed her eyes to close and her shoulders to hunch. The blow, when it came, felt like a shove at first. It was a fast hit though, meant to do damage, and the moment her body rebounded it stung. And she was too weak to keep herself upright. Too sick, to do anything but let her body fall.
It wasn't even a fist. It was all Surreal could think as the ground jumped up to meet her. She hit the cobblestones with a sickening crunch-she realized all too late that she had put up her right arm to stop herself. She stared at her arm and there, staring back at her, was bone. It was jagged, sharp, and dripping with blood and some darker substance. She had a moment to be amused that she wasn't even bleeding as much as a regular human would. After that moment, her hand throbbed in time with some dance in the light, for surely those black spots were dancing.
"Oh," she breathed. "Oh shit." She prayed, in that last stunning agony before passing out, that God would give her mercy and accept her into His loving embrace. She prayed that she would awaken at the pearly gates. She knew that when she woke up, she would be in a much worse situation than she was in now. If the thief took her, she would doubtless be in agony when she awoke. If she left her, someone worse would arrive to make her life hell. So she simply prayed he would have mercy on her for her sins, and just welcome her into the pearly gates. She laid her head on the ground and felt, precisely, the action of her eyes rolling back into her skull.
"Please just let me bleed out," she whispered. The darkness swallowed her whole.
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Post by Grim on Feb 8, 2009 18:07:40 GMT -5
Grim was shocked at how hard the little woman took his blow. Certainly he had expected to hurt her and he didn’t care a lick for the extent of the damage he had done. What did her well being matter to him?
“Feeble bitch.” He said to himself as he noticed the bone of her arm sticking out from the skin. When the woman went limp to the ground, Grim shrugged as he looked down at her, then cocked his head and prodded her body with one boot. Seeing that the woman was unconscious, and not caring what happened with her from then on, Grim shrugged again, leaned over and pulled all the money and valuables the woman had on her into his own pockets.
He may as well take something away from that conversation other than the frustration of wasted time. If he hadn’t taken the woman’s money, the whole argument would have had no reward. The king of thieves wasn’t going to let that happen.
After securing all of the necromancer’s valuable possessions in his own pockets, Grim turned and walked away through the square. Behind him, Grim heard people shouting about a woman hurt and bleeding on the ground. Some one had found the injured, pathetic necromancer woman and actually took to caring. Grim rolled his eyes at the thought. There were too many annoyingly righteous people in the city. It was that type, like that feeble necromancer, who always hassled Grim with their morals and ideals.
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