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Post by Mammon on Feb 27, 2017 21:36:15 GMT
Mooris The Pity
Lay Of The Land
It sighed through the capital like the breath of a sleeping giant, it wound itself around the bases of trees and domed houses picking up leaves and dust scattering them on its exhalation. It made small dust devils in the debris of fallen houses and made small quiet places howl with the wind, it was the aftermath of the great domination the rise of the Mazoku clan and their fell empire. But there were no bodies that littered the streets, no gibbets raised on poles filled with the unquiet souls of those who opposed their master, it was a poor man's evil that had swept through the Moori and much as it was before was it now. Kids played in the streets, old and young alike laughed and talked.
But as much as thing were the same much was different, there were unsaid words 'what's going to happen', 'what's he planning', 'who are these strange soldiers he keeps', civil unrest slept fitfully these days. He wore blackened leather and plate that stretched down his body like a second skin, it was engraved with fine details and depictions of debased scenes of violence and sexual extasy, a women with breasts laid bare holding a chalice with a snake twined about it, strange gaunt creatures feeding on a fallen man, a fist that held a flaming skull, he was nothing short of some dark god stepped out from some horrific tableau. He looked out onto the city with face hidden behind an iron morion, it had a face guard that obscured all but his eye's and those the devils own glowing softly.
He lived and breathed drama, here he was the fist of an emperor swabbed in something under better circumstances would be called 'over-dramatic' but with the unknown on his side and a few well-placed rumors, he was fear incarnate or a distant cousin at least. He strolled down the streets a path opening up in the crowd like the metaphorical leper no one wanted to touch him or get in his way, he entered a half fallen over building light spilling in from a half smashed in window, timber and stone lined the floor in piles leaving only a table and a chair clean, he sat.
He waited, he set tarot cards out before him with a wave of his hand. "Enter." his voice was a basso rumble that hung in the air long after the word was said. "I know you're out there." his voice changed morphing into a petulant youth with all the certainty of the young. "You have come to become more than you are." his voice was provocative that of a women who filled men's dreams at night. "Enter." they all boomed at once as if not one being sat within that armor hide but many, good stage theatrics. He was there in his official capacity as one of the many recruiter scattered around the city ready to pick up hopped up youth and feed them to the machine of war. He flipped one of the cards over 'the fool'. |
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Post by Deleted on Mar 9, 2017 8:59:12 GMT
 | Namorel
Powerlevel: 50
Namorel Jr
Powerlevel: 23,762 |
Moori, the long lived capital of Namek. While capital in name and power it sat only as a collective of both Namekian culture, the blending of all three castes and as a solemn reminder of the effects and influences of various outside cultures and peoples. Buildings built in an oddly Terran sort of way and goods that were surely of extra-planetary origin sat at stands sold by people of his own kin. The population of the city was largely, if not completely namekian albeit it was completely possible that Xylo's hand had converted the once 'great' capital into a glorified housing complex for his own pawns of power. The clash of structures from the interior of the city to the exterior was unsettling to Namorel, the wooden cottages only halting into smaller, namekian styled huts that followed the cultural basis more completely.
The new Warrior Caste Leader walked through the crowds of namekians that littered the streets, the air was abuzz with talk of various topics, many amongst them encompassing the occupancy of Xylo and his foreign units. Some referring to some in particular associated with darkness if not the living embodiment. The namekian had his power suppressed as to not alert any possible Mazoku sympathizers, however not as much could have been said about his son, the smaller namekian walking beside his father, their steps almost completely in unison while separated in stride alone; his power, far superior to many of the local namekians, settled off of his body like a calm, fed flame of a candle undisturbed by the wind. Their intent was the crowd ahead, their numbers splitting some, other recovering from the state. Whatever could have caused such a reaction intrigued Namorel and the abandoned building sitting astray from the others seemed to contain his answer. However, what would he find inside? He did not know.
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Post by Mammon on Mar 9, 2017 13:11:46 GMT
Mooris The Pity
The Devil's Den
The hut was warped like it had been left in the kiln too long upon its creation, it was a lumpy den of thin mud-clay walls with vines and browned bracken slowly climbing their way up the wall, streams of sunlight crisscrossed the interior illuminating fragments in brilliant light while leaving other doused in perpetual darkness. He sat in one of those corners and looked up from his card's his sense expanding out from the hovel, a single name popped into mind Namorel, it sat there like a heavyweight he turned it over in his thought's examining it, yes that's a name he remembered someone he had to watch. "Namorel, caste leader of the warrior clan of Namek. Enter."
He decided there and then to end the theatrics, he'd get more done playing it straight. "Please, have a seat." he removed his helmet the iron wrought visage of a leering demon now gone, now just the face of a flesh and blood demon. He had long hair that stretched down to his shoulder's and his face might have been once traditionally beautiful but now it was hollow and etched with sharp cruel lines, and like all good demons he had a pair of horns as well. "Drink?" he offered, removing the cork from a slender-necked bottle with a 'POP' setting three cups out before him and offering one to Namorel, and one to his son and taking the last for himself.
"I have one question for you, what do you want?" he spoke this sentence like he had a thousand times, he filled it with it with endless possibilities 'what do you desire', 'what are you willing to trade', 'are you willing to deal with a demon'. It was like a pit with no bottom, one could explore those depths endlessly. He began to fill his cup from the bottle it splashed out filling its contents with dark red wine he swirled it around bringing it to his nose his nostrils flaring before he took a long drain from it. His Adam's apple rose and fell in time with his drinking, he finished it setting it down on the table flashing the Namekian a red tinted smile, it was the kind accompanied with 'my grandma what big teeth you have'.@namorel
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Post by Deleted on Mar 10, 2017 15:31:13 GMT
| Namorel
Powerlevel: 50
Namorel Jr
Powerlevel: 23,762 |
The building, brought to ruin by neglect and passive thought stood before Namorel and his son. What they sought rest inside the dilapidated construct. From the outside alone Namorel felt the miasmatic aura he had once felt before, while a name eluded him an image had burned itself into his mind. Could he be that which was spoken of amongst the locals of the Moori Capital? The interior of the structure, hints of light swathing over minuscule specks of surface as darkness swallowed much of the remainder, but onward was where their answers wrought.
A voice, all too familiar made its way to Namorel. A reminder, like claws to a chalkboard, to listen; but was it to listen well? The armor once more stood across from Namorel, bot not as a cohort to someone greater this time, but as a sole encounter for he alone. As the man behind the cage of black metal revealed himself, demonic still in view, but in many ways more unsettling than the masque of the helmet. The drink, Namorel knew not what it was or merely what it could be but should be accept an offer from such a demonic being? From the shape of the bottle Namorel could assume it as a variety of alcohol, as he had seen on Earth some time ago, but the make of it sure was of its own kin. Shaking his head in discontent.
"No, we are fine as we are."
He words seemed engulfed by the shadows rather than filling an empty room. But none the less, the demon had but one question for Namorel. What did he want? Namorel knew why he had come, but was there something he wanted? Was there more to what he had he wished to acquire? He didn't know and yet he knew how he would reply.
"I had heard rumors from the locals, of a demon among them. A harbinger of darkness and assumed one of Xylo's men had taken to tormenting them. Would he perhaps be you?"
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Post by Mammon on Mar 10, 2017 16:36:49 GMT
Mooris The Pity What Art Thou?
"We are fine, does thou tongue rebel under such lies?" he raised a brow it was a good look he had narrowed it down to a point, he could spear people with that look get them to talk long after they had wanted to stop, it said without speaking 'I'm unimpressed'. "I could name a few right now, you wish me gone and my brood with me. You wish the streets clean of Dominion, don't you?" he began to shuffle making the cards dance between his hand's before thumbing them down on the table with a 'thud' to reveal 'judgement'. "There's no point lying, nor do I judge you for it. I in your position would be little different, years of peace now a military state."
"I had heard rumors from the locals, of a demon among them. A harbinger of darkness and assumed one of Xylo's men had taken to tormenting them. Would he perhaps be you?"
"Tormenting?" he mused aloud his hand tracing the outline of his chin, his thin needle-like finger's stroking his goatee like a lover's caress. "Do I come down upon them as some winged beast stealing babes from their cots? It is an age old story I sound different, I look different." he had to admit the dark armour and the creepy voices didn't help, but one had to suffer for their looks. "Do you judge me for matters of the flesh, cause my eye's glow or I wear a crown of ivory and have a serpent's tongue?" a thin length of flesh poked out through a bear trap of a mouth, it was long and slender and slick with saliva ending in two-pronged ends, he put his tongue back into his mouth. "Do I not have a right to exist, just not here am I right?"
"What ever your feelings Namorel, I am here to stay. And I'd like to make it as painless as possible." he took up his card's again as the faint slapping of paper on paper as he did increasingly more difficult movements to follow, he made them arc and glide along his finger's like a trained animal it reared up and down, up and down, up, down. He sat them face down on the table. "It is said you can tell the future with cards like these, but it is also said you can divine from still warm entrails."
"What is your future I wonder?"
@namorel |
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Post by Deleted on Mar 14, 2017 15:51:49 GMT
| Namorel
Powerlevel: 50
Namorel Jr
Powerlevel: 23,762 |
The demon spoke, his voice travelled coldly though the air, besetting with it what seemed like arogance, but was it? These were the types Namorel had trouble with in the past, their dual toned voices carried lies and truths almost unendingly and it made it increasingly difficult to determine what was and what wasn't reality. But this particular demon, this 'legend' of the capital seemed more quizzical than rhetoric in his notion. HE was right however, Namek had for so long been a peaceful... happy planet, but everything went drastically downhill after Realigner Red, or as Namorel had come to learn... Vi-Poi of Earth, had detonated the planet like some child with fireworks. Since that day it has only been turpmoil, the SSE... the rise of Accorio and his dragon, and now the Dominion, what other feelings did Namorel have to feel then disdain and prejudice. Namek didn't need an empire... it needed peace.
"The planet deserves better, not exclusively of Xylo and your lot. But of every other group that wishes to shove us under their metaphorical wing. Namek used to be a free planet, but now it only feels like we are seen as underdeveloped land."
He leaned back as he spoke, keeping his eyes on the demon with a uncarring glare. What did he know of the condition he planet was in and had been for so long. His kind only encouraged the fear the locals felt, it was bad enough the castle cast a shadow over them in their daily lives, but with his likes weaving between the crowds people have come to paranoia over themselves and one another; you never know who could be a wolf in sheep's clothing, the one that would betray them all.
The demon almost seemed to take offense in the namekian's statement, only further relating himself to a demon in likes, albeit he was in the eyes of the namekian. Perhaps, however he made a point. Namorel had bet plenty on both sides of the moral spectrum, and many that abided by the opposite of the stereotypically suggested of their race, but where did this demon, where did Mammon sit in this notion? Sure, he was a demon under Xylo; but why was he working for the Mazoku leader, what purpose did he have being here?
"Isn't it always? Sure, one can look past the stereotype , but prejudice always seeps back in. I only seek the happiness of my people, so no; I do not look upo you with the same intent as them because I know you wouldn't want to get on Xylo's bad side. Sure he is casting his iron fist of the planet, but he has yet to kill one of his own and I doubt he would let you do the same."
Namorel smirked some as he spoke, popping his neck to the right as well. Sure he was potentially bluffing, but he also spoke with truth. Xylo had done little to the people since his arrive, even so he didn't attack Namorel before, rather it seemed like an almost empty threat, but with that power there was no point in second guessing himself. The demon however, was not of that league, rather he was but a lackie, a minion of the Mazoku leader himself and Namorel saw this, but how loyal was he?
"Your 'right to exist' concerns me little. My aims are on my people, the likes of Xylo's 'pets' are beyond my care."
Card? Of the fortune Telling type it seemed, Namorel had not seen these before, rather the act of tarot was new to him in practice and purpose. He had viewed the likes of fortune telling to those with the capacity to, but did these cards carry this sort of merit? There was but one way to find out. With his intrigue caught he nodded once.
"Enlighten me..."
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Post by Mammon on Mar 14, 2017 19:05:54 GMT
Mooris The Pity The Price of Freedom
"Deserve? What does it deserve." he held aloft his hand's like two scales in the balance, he lowered one. "The orphan deserve a mother, the man with no legs deserves to walk, the virtuous deserves to be rewarded." his face grew dark and terrible he seemed to grow in the low light expanding out like the shadow of some great winged beast. "The tyrants and robbers deserve to be burnt alive, murders hanged and flayed still living." he dropped the other hand. "What is deserved is seldom given."
"I doubt he would let you do the same."
"True enough son of Namek, I am Mammon of the nether-realm am bound by chains of oaths." a thin line emerged from his mouth it was a dark thing with a chitinous shell, it was like the primordial centipede which all descend. It climbed out from behind his lips and its many tiny legs carried it across his face and down his and onto the table. "But be careful Namorel, I am still a demon which all evil likens itself to, he was as a demon, the man was a demon, cruel as a demon."
"Think on this child, your planet was held in the palm of the Sayians. They held court on your soil, they had a military installation that had no Namekian oversight, did they ever ask if you wanted this?" he set three cards out beside each other face down. "Do you think for a second if my master asked them nicely they would've left? A race of people who shoot their young at planets with the express purpose of leaving them barren and lifeless. Or the small tyrant Accordio, who rarely left his hut what would his answer have been."
"Peace will protect you not when the wolves are at the doors, or should we see your planet burn as it has so many times. For your children, for your old, for your sick. Think of them." he had a serpent's cadence how he drew out the words made them tangible, appealing. Would he take a bite from the forbidden fruit? "Past, Present and Future. The first card tells the past." he flipped it over revealing 'The Lover' it depicted an angelic being offering alms to a wounded soldier, "The second tells the present." he turned over the second revealing 'The Hanged man' and just like its namesake there hung a hanged man. He stopped hovering his hand over the final not revealing it. "What is our future?"
@namorel |
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Post by Deleted on Mar 17, 2017 14:34:34 GMT
| Namorel
Powerlevel: 50
Namorel Jr
Powerlevel: 23,762 |
"As true as that is, it is my duty... no my privileged to fight for these things. Sure it may be a frivolous endeavor, but it is my heritage and if there is anything I am going to preserve, it is that. Even if it brings me to Death's cold, stone door I did what I was born to do."
Namorel sat up, his expression transitioning to a more stern and noticeably firm. His words came from his heart as he spoke. Sure the demon may not agree with him, but little did Namorel care, it had meaning to him and the promise he had made to his father. Mammon was his name, the demon had revealed his name to the namekian and much to Namorel's surprise it was nowhere as intimidating as the namekian was hoping it could have been. His position, his rank... hell his mere existence in the Mazoku Dominion must have been rather insignificant by the way he spoke, whether Namorel was right or not was of little matter. Mammon was still quite the threat to those weaker than Namorel himself and had to be watched.
"The Saiyan Empire, Accordio... neither were good, for Namek or even the namekians in general. I am completely astounded that my own people would align themselves with either of them. The fools that they were, to prevent any conflict... alas that seems frivolous anymore."
Namorel had mixed feelings on both the Saiyan Solar Empire and Accordio, neither had really done anything to support the namekian people, rather both saw to their own devices and only bothered to support at most one another. It almost seemed like he shared the opinion with Mammon, but with the way the demon weaved his words Namorel had a rather hard time telling whether or not it was Watching the cards as Mammon placed them, perhaps the ritual was about to begin.
"With any 'wolves' of any sort on Namek peace and freedom seem like rhetorics rather than possibilities."
Namorel's reply came before watching the cards, the Past and the present. The images meant little to Namorel at this time, but he was curious as to the third and perhaps what it could mean, surely it meant the future; but what was it the card itself would mean?
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Post by Mammon on Mar 18, 2017 5:27:24 GMT
Mooris The Pity
The Final Say
"The future." he tapped the final card with a 'tap' 'tap' giving Namorel an even look that said 'you want to know, don't you' sadly it wasn't to be, sparks leapt from his finger the card shriveled and blackened as fire slowly formed on its back turning it to ash. "I think that draws our meeting to an end." he pushed himself back from his chair before standing up from his chair slapping his helmet upon his head, the slits in its face began to glow with dark light like the portals of hell were stirring to fitful life behind that iron mask."I'll leave you with a thought child of peace." his word's had gained a lilting quality almost sing-song in nature, his voice was at once many again, old to young, male to female, one too many. "Rules are for children. This is war, and in war the only crime is to lose." and he strode past the table into the light throwing back his cape and stepping onto the street, Namorel had survived the demon of Moori Capital. A feather in his hat? Or another concern to weigh down his already burdened shoulders.
@namorel |
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Capper Hofferson
Moderator
PL: 20
Zeni: 61,743
Tag: @sketch
OOC Name: Sketch
Posts: 833 
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Post by Capper Hofferson on Mar 29, 2017 1:28:52 GMT
Mammon WC: 1,916 PL GAINS: 3,065 OLD PL: 76,206 NEW PL: 79,271 @namorel WC: 1,679 GAINS: 2,350 OLD PL: 107,454 NEW PL: 109,804 Adding now.
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