Post by Koramund on Apr 5, 2015 13:27:26 GMT
The ancient grounds of bloody murder surrounded him like the maws of the eternal void. Razor like spines of glass and nail seemed to wish to reclaim their throne, but banished from reality long ago from torture to amusement. There was no eternal torture here except for that of the mind, and with the current teachings Koramund gave himself, this land seemed like a paradise. The beast was smeared, turned into a mere pathetic shade of his self! What travesty of fate, if it was not for his greatest fear having done it. No, he no longer felt sorrow or grief over his loss of self, now all he felt was a burning desire to reclaim what was his. This land had not what he wanted, at least not that he knew. He heard in the background tubas, playing to his spiritual work. The dark deeds of Hell were about to change.
"Time to play my friend, for I come for my vengeance! I will work for eternity to earn my essence! You can push and pull but I will never budge! I will return and not be turned into sludge!" Koramund spoke with a rhyme-like pattern, like that of a poem, for what else did he have to entertain himself but thought? He was granted a body in a small area to help the ogres, but they could easily rip his soul out of this pathetic body. He was coated in metric tons of chains with pitch black, burned runic markings. They nullified his ki, but his spirit burned so damn strong the chains were not enough. He roared to the song of "I am Pudge" from the tubas in the background, while he took a step every three fourths of a second. He gripped the chains coating his body, and was pulling large slabs of Jelly-bean and stone. Thousands of years ago, a battle between a spirit of life and a spirit of chaos raged here, and the ogres feared to take these monstrosities from the land. He was left with some ogres to finally help shove these beans away. Koramund's body was a frail old Arcosian, where his true form was the only way he could have a positive power level. which worked beautifully for Koramund.
Koramund spoke up to a old, bald, yet extremely buff Saiyan, "...Since I have nothing else to think of, what is your story? I would like to hear of someone else's glory." The Saiyan laughed, speaking to the old man, "Glory? There was glory in my skills and my conquests, but none in my end! I was murdered by this low class Saiyan fool, who glowed with a crimson flame. He rushed straight into me, shattering my stomach and spine, then just generally wrecked my corpse, until damned Vegeta obliterated me. Oh I will never forget that selfish bastard. One, Two, now I g- Gah! This catchy tune, stays in your head tell you can't think no more. Eh, your rotation." Koramund said, "Thank you very much my friend. Hopefully you both can mend." The Saiyan snickered, and snarled out, "I will never forgive him, never have never will. You and your unique little stuff? They can get a move on, I am not going to tug this by myself dead weight." Koramund nodded to the Saiyan, finishing what little of the aeon old story he could manage from this 'glory' tale. Koramund raised his hands, as two ogres unlocked his chains from the bean, and lead him to another. The saiyan said one last thing before he left hearing distance, "Seriously? Why does he need that many chains and two ogres? Freiza was strong, but was anyone in his family strong enough for that that were not pure-breeds?"
The Mutant of Jingle Village was re-chained to the next bean, and this time his partner was chained after him but with much less. A large spotted Namekian, who held none of these markings on his chest of stomach. He looked like a sumo wrestler, but those elf-like ears did not match well with that theme. He wore a orange bandanna like a belt, with purple pants and purple shoes. The Namekian needed only chains around his arms to help him move the bean, let alone to be contained. The ogres could easily take this one on, but it was more just of a "I am to lazy for this" situation on the ogre's part, or maybe a "Death = Slavery" type of deal. Koramund spoke through muffling chains, "May I request to hear your tale of life? Did you die during a strife?" The namekian spoke with a deep voice, "Your darn right I died in strife! My father was a king, king of a daemon clan no less! I was his youngest son, and I was born to kill a three eyed man. He tried to capture my father with a Evil Containment Wave, but I was willing to save my father from the pipsqueak. But then as I said, follow play happened! A little kid zoomed in, and just punched me away from my prize. The kid was so powerful that he kicked me once in the head, and my head basically exploded! The darn brat turned into a bloody mess. Though I got to admit, he earned it fairly. Didn't try to kill me at first, killed me when I tried to get 'em. I lived for only, 10 minutes? Somewhere around that. So kid, whats your name." Koramund frowned, the story was already over, and same was his time with this Namekian. Koramund uttered out, "I am Koramund..." before being moved once more.
Hundreds of hours would pass before they would even got a fourth of all the Jelly Beans away, and almost everyone else just flat out refused to tell him their story. Why did he still feel so lonely, yet surrounded by everyone?
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------(Wc = 988)
Koramund raised himself from a torturous pit, holding himself high like a gymnastic. The Ogres had lowered his power to a mere 5, and were torturing him with ancient methods for their amusement. It was dull, but compared to everyone else he was just a spectacle for surviving half of these things. Koramund slammed his razor sharp talons into the two walls crushing him, only millionths of a milometer apart. He slowly pushed it apart, his body easily handling the stress. Koramund kept on screaming in outrage and defiance, his raw wrath ripping through the ki inhibitors. The golden machines starting to quiver, their vibrating forms letting off electricity and small explosions. His power level was shooting up by the hundreds, and the ogres showed no fear. Let go of self control, that was all that was left. He screamed, "GET THE HELL OUT OF MY WAY! THAT IS WHAT I SAY!" The spiked walls flew backwards, shattering into pieces! Koramund zoomed forward, almost a blur to the ogres from the raw gap in power. He floated inches away from his handler, a woman known as Tamaya. She stood 5'4, and wore battle armor that coated her entire body.
Tamaya's armor was completely orange, with blood red tips of spikes. Her shoulder plates had warped talons from daemons she had murdered, and on her back were chains in a cloak-like fashion. She had no armor over the bottom of her stomach, her elbows, and her knees, all around some major joints. But if you looked closely, almost like a spider web, there was something there. She looked at Koramund and said, "Ready for round 69?" The beast simply answered, "...mmmhmmm..." with a unsatisfied anger. She put him in this torture room to help calm him down, give him something to overcome. She scolded him, "...Do you have to break these each and every time? Survive five minutes in that body of yours, and it will immediately give you your max power level back." The feral remains of Kora just simply rested his gaze on her eyes, showing just enough scraps of respect to seem somewhat genuine. He escaped from Tamaya after a new ki inhibitor was implanted into the back of his throat for increased pain, just to see if she could break him. Before each and every trial he was allowed three minutes to do whatever he wanted, and he would always take his ki, turn it into a solid pitch black jelly, turn it liquid, and drink it. He meditated on his knees, and quivered as if he was having a nightmare. What the hell was he doing?
Koramund was drowning in the dark hell of his mind, where everything was tailored to his death of soul instead of body. He was surrounded by the golden man and the doll, both of them just constantly speaking some uncomprehending mumbo-jumbo. The wordings kept on tempting him, come closer, come closer, and hear our tale of death. He was balanced on a single pin, and he needed a perfect accuracy. He was afraid to fail, he wanted to always succeed, for he never wanted to fail those around him. He needed to be a frightening monstrosity or he would be hunted, so he always had to succeed. He had to eat to become stronger, and so he would be able to fight those who he tried to kill or vice versa, and so he always had. But now he failed once, ONCE, and he was in Hell. He went for Athren, and the golden knight disintegrated him. That was his fate wasn't it? He awoke from the nightmare, once millennial of torture slapped him in the face in slow motion, all in one moment. He was plunged into a pit of lava the second his eyes opened, and grew razor irises.
His flesh was burning in a show of crimson endings. They were trying to get rid of his body, were they not? Tamaya, she looked so calm, like she knew he could handle himself. Did she? It was no matter, for the beast had his plans. Koramund spun in the thick liquid rock, and started to swim upwards, until three ogres lifted up rock harpoon guns. Laser accuracy, for he was damned in both ways instead of just one. Rocks slammed into his right leg, exploding a hole into him, and then growing spikes. They attached into his flesh, and began to shove him down. Another impaled his left arm, and a final impaled his throat. Koramund had to think of something, for the chains were dragging him deeper into his boiling points. He couldn't move anything under his throat, and he was an arco- the hell?! He looked at his body, it was HIS?!?! His ki was resonating with it barely, he gained it during the nightmare most likely. He felt his heart beat, whenever it did three beats his gems flashed. Yes, it was his, time to play! Koramund screamed, as the lava began to glow violently. Tamaya grew a small smile of satisfaction, as Koramund expanded like a virus's hold on a person. He phased through the chains, and swam straight up. His expanded form, ripped out of the ground violently, forcing lava to explode into the air. Koramund roared, as he transformed into first thing that popped into his mind, Kittymund. He dropped in frontof Tamaya, licking his paws, and tapping the inhibitor with his tail. She giggled for a short time, before removing Koramund's body. He became a spirit, floating around Tamaya, as she declared, "Koramund has defeated 69 rounds of our little game! The 8th best!" This specific faction of ogres, were the Hell Burners, those who were trained to retain powerful beings. Koramund was slightly happy to be part of this faction in a way, he was considered a powerful monstrosity.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------(Wc = 979)
(TWC = 1967)
"Time to play my friend, for I come for my vengeance! I will work for eternity to earn my essence! You can push and pull but I will never budge! I will return and not be turned into sludge!" Koramund spoke with a rhyme-like pattern, like that of a poem, for what else did he have to entertain himself but thought? He was granted a body in a small area to help the ogres, but they could easily rip his soul out of this pathetic body. He was coated in metric tons of chains with pitch black, burned runic markings. They nullified his ki, but his spirit burned so damn strong the chains were not enough. He roared to the song of "I am Pudge" from the tubas in the background, while he took a step every three fourths of a second. He gripped the chains coating his body, and was pulling large slabs of Jelly-bean and stone. Thousands of years ago, a battle between a spirit of life and a spirit of chaos raged here, and the ogres feared to take these monstrosities from the land. He was left with some ogres to finally help shove these beans away. Koramund's body was a frail old Arcosian, where his true form was the only way he could have a positive power level. which worked beautifully for Koramund.
Koramund spoke up to a old, bald, yet extremely buff Saiyan, "...Since I have nothing else to think of, what is your story? I would like to hear of someone else's glory." The Saiyan laughed, speaking to the old man, "Glory? There was glory in my skills and my conquests, but none in my end! I was murdered by this low class Saiyan fool, who glowed with a crimson flame. He rushed straight into me, shattering my stomach and spine, then just generally wrecked my corpse, until damned Vegeta obliterated me. Oh I will never forget that selfish bastard. One, Two, now I g- Gah! This catchy tune, stays in your head tell you can't think no more. Eh, your rotation." Koramund said, "Thank you very much my friend. Hopefully you both can mend." The Saiyan snickered, and snarled out, "I will never forgive him, never have never will. You and your unique little stuff? They can get a move on, I am not going to tug this by myself dead weight." Koramund nodded to the Saiyan, finishing what little of the aeon old story he could manage from this 'glory' tale. Koramund raised his hands, as two ogres unlocked his chains from the bean, and lead him to another. The saiyan said one last thing before he left hearing distance, "Seriously? Why does he need that many chains and two ogres? Freiza was strong, but was anyone in his family strong enough for that that were not pure-breeds?"
The Mutant of Jingle Village was re-chained to the next bean, and this time his partner was chained after him but with much less. A large spotted Namekian, who held none of these markings on his chest of stomach. He looked like a sumo wrestler, but those elf-like ears did not match well with that theme. He wore a orange bandanna like a belt, with purple pants and purple shoes. The Namekian needed only chains around his arms to help him move the bean, let alone to be contained. The ogres could easily take this one on, but it was more just of a "I am to lazy for this" situation on the ogre's part, or maybe a "Death = Slavery" type of deal. Koramund spoke through muffling chains, "May I request to hear your tale of life? Did you die during a strife?" The namekian spoke with a deep voice, "Your darn right I died in strife! My father was a king, king of a daemon clan no less! I was his youngest son, and I was born to kill a three eyed man. He tried to capture my father with a Evil Containment Wave, but I was willing to save my father from the pipsqueak. But then as I said, follow play happened! A little kid zoomed in, and just punched me away from my prize. The kid was so powerful that he kicked me once in the head, and my head basically exploded! The darn brat turned into a bloody mess. Though I got to admit, he earned it fairly. Didn't try to kill me at first, killed me when I tried to get 'em. I lived for only, 10 minutes? Somewhere around that. So kid, whats your name." Koramund frowned, the story was already over, and same was his time with this Namekian. Koramund uttered out, "I am Koramund..." before being moved once more.
Hundreds of hours would pass before they would even got a fourth of all the Jelly Beans away, and almost everyone else just flat out refused to tell him their story. Why did he still feel so lonely, yet surrounded by everyone?
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------(Wc = 988)
Koramund raised himself from a torturous pit, holding himself high like a gymnastic. The Ogres had lowered his power to a mere 5, and were torturing him with ancient methods for their amusement. It was dull, but compared to everyone else he was just a spectacle for surviving half of these things. Koramund slammed his razor sharp talons into the two walls crushing him, only millionths of a milometer apart. He slowly pushed it apart, his body easily handling the stress. Koramund kept on screaming in outrage and defiance, his raw wrath ripping through the ki inhibitors. The golden machines starting to quiver, their vibrating forms letting off electricity and small explosions. His power level was shooting up by the hundreds, and the ogres showed no fear. Let go of self control, that was all that was left. He screamed, "GET THE HELL OUT OF MY WAY! THAT IS WHAT I SAY!" The spiked walls flew backwards, shattering into pieces! Koramund zoomed forward, almost a blur to the ogres from the raw gap in power. He floated inches away from his handler, a woman known as Tamaya. She stood 5'4, and wore battle armor that coated her entire body.
Tamaya's armor was completely orange, with blood red tips of spikes. Her shoulder plates had warped talons from daemons she had murdered, and on her back were chains in a cloak-like fashion. She had no armor over the bottom of her stomach, her elbows, and her knees, all around some major joints. But if you looked closely, almost like a spider web, there was something there. She looked at Koramund and said, "Ready for round 69?" The beast simply answered, "...mmmhmmm..." with a unsatisfied anger. She put him in this torture room to help calm him down, give him something to overcome. She scolded him, "...Do you have to break these each and every time? Survive five minutes in that body of yours, and it will immediately give you your max power level back." The feral remains of Kora just simply rested his gaze on her eyes, showing just enough scraps of respect to seem somewhat genuine. He escaped from Tamaya after a new ki inhibitor was implanted into the back of his throat for increased pain, just to see if she could break him. Before each and every trial he was allowed three minutes to do whatever he wanted, and he would always take his ki, turn it into a solid pitch black jelly, turn it liquid, and drink it. He meditated on his knees, and quivered as if he was having a nightmare. What the hell was he doing?
Koramund was drowning in the dark hell of his mind, where everything was tailored to his death of soul instead of body. He was surrounded by the golden man and the doll, both of them just constantly speaking some uncomprehending mumbo-jumbo. The wordings kept on tempting him, come closer, come closer, and hear our tale of death. He was balanced on a single pin, and he needed a perfect accuracy. He was afraid to fail, he wanted to always succeed, for he never wanted to fail those around him. He needed to be a frightening monstrosity or he would be hunted, so he always had to succeed. He had to eat to become stronger, and so he would be able to fight those who he tried to kill or vice versa, and so he always had. But now he failed once, ONCE, and he was in Hell. He went for Athren, and the golden knight disintegrated him. That was his fate wasn't it? He awoke from the nightmare, once millennial of torture slapped him in the face in slow motion, all in one moment. He was plunged into a pit of lava the second his eyes opened, and grew razor irises.
His flesh was burning in a show of crimson endings. They were trying to get rid of his body, were they not? Tamaya, she looked so calm, like she knew he could handle himself. Did she? It was no matter, for the beast had his plans. Koramund spun in the thick liquid rock, and started to swim upwards, until three ogres lifted up rock harpoon guns. Laser accuracy, for he was damned in both ways instead of just one. Rocks slammed into his right leg, exploding a hole into him, and then growing spikes. They attached into his flesh, and began to shove him down. Another impaled his left arm, and a final impaled his throat. Koramund had to think of something, for the chains were dragging him deeper into his boiling points. He couldn't move anything under his throat, and he was an arco- the hell?! He looked at his body, it was HIS?!?! His ki was resonating with it barely, he gained it during the nightmare most likely. He felt his heart beat, whenever it did three beats his gems flashed. Yes, it was his, time to play! Koramund screamed, as the lava began to glow violently. Tamaya grew a small smile of satisfaction, as Koramund expanded like a virus's hold on a person. He phased through the chains, and swam straight up. His expanded form, ripped out of the ground violently, forcing lava to explode into the air. Koramund roared, as he transformed into first thing that popped into his mind, Kittymund. He dropped in frontof Tamaya, licking his paws, and tapping the inhibitor with his tail. She giggled for a short time, before removing Koramund's body. He became a spirit, floating around Tamaya, as she declared, "Koramund has defeated 69 rounds of our little game! The 8th best!" This specific faction of ogres, were the Hell Burners, those who were trained to retain powerful beings. Koramund was slightly happy to be part of this faction in a way, he was considered a powerful monstrosity.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------(Wc = 979)
(TWC = 1967)