In Deep Darkness, a Monstrous Glow (Sabbo)
OoC: Sorry I put it up so late. I had to run a marathon of family gatherings right after we made our arrangements. Anyways, the pen is yours. You know where the plot is headed.
BiC:
A Brief Prologue
Fuzen was on a beach. Naturally, something very destructive was afoot. The fallen flame sat upon a stone throne, risen from the sand at his feet. It was not ornate; simply a back, two armrests, and a seat. He rested his fist against his chin, looking expressionlessly at the sands Ijinken was busily shifting. In reality, it was all he could do to keep himself from laughing. At the beach, his quarry was so vulnerable, it was almost no fun to round them up. But to see so many frightened faces, it took all his willpower to keep his mirth beneath his skin.
There was a village built on the sand about half a mile down the shore. At a command, the God of Desert Warfare scooped each one of the citizens from where they stood, and brought them before its wielder. They arrived in cocoons of sand, with only their faces showing. After a paltry few minutes, the entire village stood in sand piles before him. It was all he could do to keep himself from laughing. His lips quivered, and his brow raised at the thoughts of their execution. Their panicked screams rang loud in both his ear and imagination. It was going to be beautiful.
Finally putting on a twisted grin, the former God of Destruction rose from his seat. As he approached his first victim, he let out a laugh that overpowered the final screams of the villagers. With uncommon speed, he drew his weapon, and pierced the young villager straight through between the eyes. He kept the blade in its place as the sand pulled the body down. A spray of blood erupted for just a moment, vanishing as fast as the body was pulled beneath the sand’s surface. A depression remained where the pile had been, with nothing more to show that a living being had been there.
With that, Fuzen stopped laughing. The ease was funny, but the act was pure entertainment. “Alright,” he said, looking down into the sand, “Let’s dance.” At that utterance, every one of the living became one of the dead. For some, he used his claws, for others, he used his sword, and for a few, he just used the sand. With some, there was blood, with others, voices howled, and for a few, it was indescribable. When he was done with each, they would sink into the sand, with no marker other than a depression. When the last one stood, he summoned a ghost, and let it cleave the poor villager in half.
Letting out a deep, contented, sigh, he slumped into his throne, a goofy wide grin on his face. His claws scraped the armrests, and his heels knocked on the base as he sank into the suddenly softening rock. The sand laid him flat on the beach. Sitting himself up, he looked out to the sea, shaking with the joy still in his veins. Their faces still screamed, and their voices still begged, and he imagined killing every one of them again. Were it not for the thought that had entered his head, he would have dredged up their corpses from the sand.
While it was a time of joy since wielding Ijinken, he had bloodied a path that led straight to him. The trail of death he had left in his wake was the biggest one he had ever made. Though he had always been able to outrun the authorities, there were a few times when he was in real danger. Even with the blade at his side, there were a few that could still claim his head. For the crimes he had committed most recently, the law would surely send the best. Regardless of his sword’s power, he did not want to run into another Elric the Red. After leaving a village empty, he would have to disappear altogether.
Fuzen began to walk down the beach with a firm goal in mind. He would not kill another soul until he was someplace safe. Once he came to a port, he would find a ship, and sail to another landmass. There, he would deal death with a lighter touch, like he used before he got his sword. Though putting an end to so many lives certainly put him in ecstasy, the time spent on an individual always made the act more special. On top of being safe, it would be a welcome return. He could start again in a new land with a renewed passion for his favorite action. All he had to do was find a ship.
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And now for the body of the story
It was a misty morning on Isla Deus. A warm fog hung in the air, lazily blowing out to sea. From the closest shore, the mainland was barely visible. The island was cloaked in it, raising humidity to an uncommon high. Wood creaked and swelled, and the normally choppy waters were flattened out. The citizens of the island groaned in complaint, but went on without regards for the weather. The island’s main source of commerce was exceptionally busy, and the people who managed it were eager to accommodate. The port of Isla Deus, called “Raw Glass” by those who frequent it, was being traveled unseasonably.
Fuzen walked one of the many streets of the Isla Deus port. His steps alternated between creaking and clicking as he walked the docks, rocks, and roads that connected the closely knit neighborhoods of Raw Glass. His normally flowing hair hung down plainly in the humidity, reducing his normally dashing appearance to mere handsomeness. Ijinken was concealed in his clothing, although the fact that he was carrying a sword still stood out. The richness of the sword, however, was concealed. Looking normal in a port had the same convenience as looking like a big shot had any other place.
His tour ended up covering most of the port’s walking space before he found what he needed. He had been searching for information. His ultimate goal was to find space on a ship in which to ride to another land. The problem lied in which ship was ferrying what was going where. Most of the people who usually had such information gave him one piece of advice he did not want to use. Eventually, he made his way to a chartering service that had been highly recommended, who set him up with a fair sized spice freighter that evidently also took passengers.
Out the finders fee, he was out his entire savings. Since a chair cost nothing to sit in, he wound up sitting. Specifically, in a tavern. The place was filled with swarthy sailors and busty women, as most port taverns were. He was going through part of a tried and true process. All he had to do was sit, and the money would come to him. Lo, he found himself rooming with a pretty waitress that night. He left her room the next morning with both a wide smile, and a satchel full of coins that had recently been stained red. Fully prepared, he headed off to his waiting boat.
After a short walk, he made it to the correct dock. “C-1,” the white letters painted on the planks read. The cargo ship ‘Jennifer’ was docked there. It’s mandate was to deliver a shipment of spices and cured meats, as well as ferry a small retinue of passengers, to the neighboring continent. A smaller mandate also added that shrimp were to be harvested, if at all possible. It was an ordinary looking boat; standard as far as sea going ships look. The boat’s name was painted neatly in large, black, letters on the port side bow, almost like graffiti.
The Fallen God of Destruction boarded the vessel in between two barrels of salt. He, personally, did not like salt cured meat, but it was the only way the stuff would keep over the long journey. Everyone on board was busy sorting and loading various crates and barrels. The boat was full to bursting with cargo. Fuzen himself was barely able to make it below deck. After following behind another passenger, he made it to an uncluttered area where about fifteen people could sleep if they went head to toe. Including him, about five of those people were already there.
With a kind of half smile, he sat down, and leaned his back against a crate. The month long journey to the next continent would be boring, but would offer much needed respite from his day to day work. Though he liked what he did like no other, it built up stress over time. The break would do his legs and arms good. If nothing else, the trip would be fragrant. The entire ship, outside and in, smelled of the spice it was delivering. Being a man who enjoyed heavily seasoned food, it was a treat. The sea air and smelling spices would do his body good.