|
Post by Armand Dantes on May 1, 2009 10:53:46 GMT 1
Armand loved the movies. Ever since watching Nosferatu in 1922, and laughing to himself about the poor attempt at imagining the vampire, he was hooked to the cinema. He continued to watch the movies that they had shown throughout the years, and when he came to Misery and found the cinema, he was glad. When he came into the theatre, after ordering a small thing of popcorn, and a small soda, he found the room empty for once and took a seat in the mid-row. Boredom came alone after the previews, and he silently awaited the movie to start.
He was there to watch the new movie, Obsessed. According to some of his co-workers, it was an interesting movie and was highly praised. With seemingly scorned women in the plot, Armand could not resist the temptation of seeing this new movie, and see for himself what the movie was about. After a few minutes, he began to pay less and less attention to the previews and rather more to his own thinking. He realized it had been a while since he had some time to himself and now, he was glad he was outside on his own, and yet also wanted to fill in some vengeance quota for the day.
Suddenly, he felt someone enter the cinema and listened intently to their approach.
|
|
Jonathan Locke
g i f t e d
Perfectionism [per-fek-shuh-niz-uhm] -noun: The state of being Jonathan Locke.
Posts: 60
|
Post by Jonathan Locke on May 1, 2009 11:51:26 GMT 1
There...
Jonathan had sensed it earlier in the week whilst sampling some of the better restaurants in Misery. His original intention had simply been to find a good place to take women, but then he'd felt it... it was hard to pick up on, but he was sure he could feel the presence of one of the infamous vengeance demons.
The realisation had conjured up old, buried memories deep within himself... he didn't want this demon to directly do the scorning, that was a cop-out as far as Jonathan was concerned, but perhaps it could help him find the object of his long held anger. He did his best to conceal it, but as he wandered down the isles towards Armand he knew he was giving off the stench of malice, bloodlust and old, old wounds.
He took a seat one row behind and one seat to the left of Armand.
Yes... definitely him...[/color] Jonathan thought to himself. Famously hard to read whilst in human form, it had been a job tracking Armand down and confirming who he was, but as Jonathan got closer Armand's aura betrayed him. Just on the edge of sight, he softly glowed in Jonathan's eyes.
He leant forward. Time for some charm.
"Heeeey..." Jonathan chirped, "Aren't you that guy who owns the restaurant downtown? Arnold Dante, or something, right?"
|
|
|
Post by Armand Dantes on May 3, 2009 22:28:29 GMT 1
Armand felt the presence of the human coming towards him, and that was what set it off. This man reeked of anger and hatred towards another. Someone had placed a seed of hatred inside of him, and from the looks of it, Armand could profit off of such a soul that scorned him. The wicked souls were always more fruitful than the scorned souls.
Such hatred…perhaps I am to grant a wish tonight…[/color] Armand thought to himself.
He sat silently, abiding the time when he would speak to the young man and try to get him to wish. He would get his wish, and in its most brutal form. It was said that Nergalian Vengeance Demons were more brutal than the typical vengeance demons. They were more along the lines of even sadistic and horrid tortures than that of his Uncle D’Hoffryn’s clan.
Suddenly, the man spoke and Armand and suddenly, it all began to unwind around him. Turning, Armand gave a warm, homely smile to the man and replied, “Why, yes. I am the owner of Paradis Perdu, and my name is Armand. Armand Dantes.” He spoke in a gentlemanly way, with a hint of old timely accent. Somewhere in between a southern and English accent. It was now time to play the part of a concerned person and get the man to talk. “I do believe I have seen you in my restaurant before,” he said, not lying for once, “however, you seemed more cheerful then. Something seems a lot different about you now. May I ask what the problem is?” Inside, Armand was smiling.
|
|
Jonathan Locke
g i f t e d
Perfectionism [per-fek-shuh-niz-uhm] -noun: The state of being Jonathan Locke.
Posts: 60
|
Post by Jonathan Locke on May 4, 2009 14:33:18 GMT 1
Jonathan leant back into his seat with his hands behind his head and let out a short sigh. There was something oddly... soothing about Armand. Just a few short words and one felt you could tell him your darkest secrets.
Is that a universal vengeance demon trait or an individual one?[/color] Jonathan wondered. It'd certainly make sense if it were common to them all.
"Ah, well..." Jonathan began, meeting Armand's eyes with a despairing half smile. "It's kind of a long story... my foster father has been on my mind a lot lately. I was taken into care because my mother was abusive and... troubled. Burme, my foster father... well, in some ways he was worse. He gave me everything I needed to be successful by his own standards but I feel like he took away my whole life and gutted my soul in return." Jonathan looked away for a moment, his face contorting into a barely contained scowl.
"Now... I try to use the skills he gave me for any purpose other than the one he meant it to be used for. But that's not enough..." The image of a mass grave filled with a thousand tiny skeletons flashed across Jonathan's mind.
"I'd do anything to find that bastard."
|
|
|
Post by Armand Dantes on May 5, 2009 21:58:02 GMT 1
Armand listened carefully to the man that was saying. He never knew his own father until he first turned into his demon form for the first time, when it manifested completely. Back then, Armand had a deep soul, and a caring attitude towards people that have truly been wronged. Throughout school, he was beaten often, for bullying other bullies that tend to pick on the weak. Often injuring a great deal of them, he found it difficult to hold back his sadistic instincts towards them up until he was 18, when his mother was killed by a posse of villagers, who thought of her as a witch. When he first transformed, he killed every last one of them, and finally met his own father, whom he discovered was the ruler over a species of Vengeance Demons that exacted vengeance on the guilty in the most horrific of manners, and took away their souls. This guy however, seemed to have had a flip-sided childhood and while he had everything, his foster father was a monster deep down.
“Don’t you just hate those types of people?” he asked, rhetorically, “From the looks of it, I bet you wish you could hurt the guy to no ends. Specifically, what exactly did he do to scorn you in such a manner? You give off such anger in your facial expressions when you speak of him that a five year old could tell you’re out for blood. Tell me more, and what exactly you wish you could do to this guy?”
When Armand spoke, his voice carried with it a seemingly legit pseudo-concerned tone. He wanted to know all he could about the guy and think of new and incredibly painful ways to exact vengeance on the guy, so he could make his wicked soul as pained as he possibly could. Though the physical torture that Nergalian vengeance demons performed was only the beginning, the main problem came when their souls were taken away. Slowly, their life energy is stripped from them inside the demon’s body in the form of being in a dark room and being very very slowly ripped apart by devices being controlled by an unknown source. It would please Nergal, Armand’s demonic name when he took his demon form, to kill this man for this guy and take his soul.
“You can tell me anything, and I will not judge you, friend.”
|
|
Jonathan Locke
g i f t e d
Perfectionism [per-fek-shuh-niz-uhm] -noun: The state of being Jonathan Locke.
Posts: 60
|
Post by Jonathan Locke on May 6, 2009 15:11:58 GMT 1
I trust him almost completely, but I have no idea why...[/color] Jonathan thought to himself. It's a strange kind of release...[/color]
Jonathan leant back into his seat and closed his eyes, crossing his hands over his chest... for a moment he seemed peaceful, then his lip began to twitch. He was clearly having trouble containing himself.
"I'm not going to bullshit you Armand. My foster father was a demon, when he picked me up he used the name Henry Kingston, but he always made me call him Burme. He taught me a lot about demons, but never about who he was... I think he was old. Older than almost any demon, one of the first to walk the Earth maybe..." Jonathan exhaled slowly before carrying on, eyes still shut.
"His power... he could control the energy in his body and read auras, he taught me how to do it. The technique is called the Kaita. But humans were never meant to have that power... the training was torture. Hours of meditation followed by hours and hours of the most harsh, most bone crunching training as he tried to force that same energy within me to work the way it did with him. But every time I did... and even now sometimes, if I ever pulled it off, it hurt. Hurt a lot. Like every nerve in my body was on fire. I would ache for days on end, wallowing in a pit of misery and despair. The only reason I hung on to the end was because I thought that... if I died, he'd win. So everyday I was being forced to do it, over and over until I could master Kaita"
A sinister smile slowly cracked Jonathan's face and he laughed lightly.
"But I wasn't his first Armand... For thousands of years he was looking for a little human who could use the Kaita. I was the first to ever survive it. And I found the grave. A thousand tiny little skeletons all piled up into a hole."
Jonathan laughed a little more.
"Fuck knows what he was doing. I never found out. But he took away my childhood - made me into some kind of monster, just like him. Not human enough to fit in, but not really a demon at all, except in mentality sometimes. So what the fuck am I Armand? I'll tell you. I'm angry. I want revenge against that bastard for tearing me apart and putting me back together as some sort of fucking freak. I want to rip him to bits and make him feel all the pain I did. I want revenge Armand... and he will pay a thousand fold."
Jonathan's eyes flickered open and they seemed to softly glow in the low light.
"I wish Burme would come here. Just so I can kill him."
|
|
|
Post by Armand Dantes on May 7, 2009 10:50:59 GMT 1
As Armand listened, he waited to hear the words “I wish” in the young man’s sentence and how he had been scorned by the guy responsible. Not just a demon, this guy was, but possibly an Old One…which Armand thought was impossible. Perhaps as old as the first hybridized demons, perhaps, but an Old One? Impossible. Those were demons that were massive and gods to gods. Should his foster father have been an Old One, even Armand would have known. No. This guy had to have been merely an ancient, yet powerful demon to say the least, but as powerful as this demon may have been, he was not immune to the wishes that Armand could carry out.
Once the human said the words Armand needed to exact out his wish, the room suddenly went black. The chairs around them disappeared, and they were suddenly in a void of darkness, but they could see one another. Armand was no longer in his human form either. He was in his demon form, which had glowing red eyes, dreadlock-like hair with horns and clawed hand and feet. He was much more massive in muscle structure and in height than he was in human form. One would also underestimate his speed as well. Raising a hand, a display of various weapons, natural and supernatural alike, with books on torment and torture appeared on a table before the both of them. Nearby was the demon.
“Done! However, know that he is a powerful demon and although I brought him to you, and gave you the means to killing, and/or even tormenting him,” Armand, now in his demon persona known as Nergal, said, his voice speaking in a dual tone between the icy cold voice of a demon and a human, “he can still escape if he gets the chance to. However, regardless of what now happens, his demonic soul shall be mine!” Nergal began to laugh, “It has been a while since I have taken the soul of a demon, but an old demon will be something of an aphrodisiac for me…” It really did not matter what the soul was. Either way, everyone had some form of a soul. Whether a human soul, mutant soul, or even a demon soul, they did not matter to Nergalian Vengeance Demons. All souls did the same job for them.
He then turned to leave the darkness. He probably should have alerted Jonathan, that once he was done, the darkness would fade and he would be back in the cinema, but he seemed like a smart guy and would get the picture. Besides, in the Vengeance Demon’s eyes, he was too distracted with revenge. With such hatred and evil in his body for this demon, one could only hope someone makes a wish on him someday. It would kill Armand to do it though, because he actually kind of liked the guy from the way he stood out. Maybe he would cut this one a break and not grant the person’s wish, depending on why or why not he should, or shouldn’t.
|
|
Jonathan Locke
g i f t e d
Perfectionism [per-fek-shuh-niz-uhm] -noun: The state of being Jonathan Locke.
Posts: 60
|
Post by Jonathan Locke on May 7, 2009 23:16:31 GMT 1
A sinister grin spread across Jonathan's face as Armand granted Jonathan's wish. He laughed gently to himself and the darkness began to fade away, leaving Jonathan back in the cinema.
"Thank you..." He whispered with a smile.
Perfect... now... what's actually on?[/color] Jonathan thought to himself, looking up at the screen. Wait a second, did he say 'aphrodisiac'?? Man, Vengeance Demons are weird.[/color]
He hooked his legs up over the seat in front of him and leant back with his eyes closed for a moment, drifting into a day dream that lasted through out whatever film was playing.
((Woo! This is gonna get picked up during the school holidays, so don't worry, Armand will be seeing the fruits of his labour. ;-) ))
|
|