-rippers_game- ((Intro - Return))
I believe I lost track of time since the Great Battle. Ironic, I suppose, if one were to consider my origins and now-lost powers.
Wesley was dead, and it was…unsettling. I had murdered Vail, avenged my guide’s death, and left to join the two vampires and the mortal in our fight that we knew was a lost cause. Screams pierced the air, and I reveled in it as blood dripped from my fingers to the wetness surrounding me.
I chose to ignore the wetness upon my cheeks.
My wounds were manageable, and somehow I had lost track of the others. The skies had poured down on us and…I do not wish to think upon it much these days.
Instead I found myself restless, moving to various locations where I had hoped to find the truth that Wesley had never told me about. Before I had moved on, however, I had stopped to remove various items I knew I would need. The strange black box with the green symbol upon it that compelled me to play meaningless games…the small book that once belonged to Wesley in which he recounted my origin and training…a small rabbit-shaped item that I had discovered hidden in a box along with other items that once were The Shell’s.
I took them all.
I was disappointed to discover that Knights of the Old Republic referred not to The Old Ones who had once ruled this plane of existence, but to small mortals wielding glowing objects as they marched about trying to destroy one another. While it did remind me of the Great Battle, it taught me nothing of the humanity I needed to understand - for yes, I could see it truly was within me somehow, no matter what I might do to rid myself of the stench.
The place named China called to me first. There, great power dwelled within the source of Hell, and although I did not stop the mortals’ efforts to close the mouth of evil I could not bring myself to assist, either. I merely observed their movements, wearing the face of Fred so it would not upset anyone, as glimpses of my own past and the one who used to own this body swirled in my soul.
Pain hit my feeble form quickly, one day, and as my eyes shot open…fists clenched tightly to my belly…I collapsed to the ground. Was the war not over? Was I being called back into battle?
No…
“My brothers…”
Dead. They were all dead, gone from the Deeper Well and I was alone again. How could this be? My eyes had shut, not from the pain of it all, but to reach out to the sounds of the universe that remained to me to discover the source…
And why.
I had been informed that The Cotswolds was the mortal name for my old prison where all the God-Kings had rested and that my travels would take me first to a place known as Heathrow. I had also been told that the “X-Box”, as it was named, would need to be a carry-on.
The pain lessened as time went on, yet that was only the physical side of it. The other side - the human side with emotions I still could not comprehend - was another matter entirely. Yet I remained, ever seeking, ever searching…Wesley’s journal in hand as the body of the former Fred Burkle stepped out with a very-human smile on her face.
On my face.
Wesley was dead, and it was…unsettling. I had murdered Vail, avenged my guide’s death, and left to join the two vampires and the mortal in our fight that we knew was a lost cause. Screams pierced the air, and I reveled in it as blood dripped from my fingers to the wetness surrounding me.
I chose to ignore the wetness upon my cheeks.
My wounds were manageable, and somehow I had lost track of the others. The skies had poured down on us and…I do not wish to think upon it much these days.
Instead I found myself restless, moving to various locations where I had hoped to find the truth that Wesley had never told me about. Before I had moved on, however, I had stopped to remove various items I knew I would need. The strange black box with the green symbol upon it that compelled me to play meaningless games…the small book that once belonged to Wesley in which he recounted my origin and training…a small rabbit-shaped item that I had discovered hidden in a box along with other items that once were The Shell’s.
I took them all.
I was disappointed to discover that Knights of the Old Republic referred not to The Old Ones who had once ruled this plane of existence, but to small mortals wielding glowing objects as they marched about trying to destroy one another. While it did remind me of the Great Battle, it taught me nothing of the humanity I needed to understand - for yes, I could see it truly was within me somehow, no matter what I might do to rid myself of the stench.
The place named China called to me first. There, great power dwelled within the source of Hell, and although I did not stop the mortals’ efforts to close the mouth of evil I could not bring myself to assist, either. I merely observed their movements, wearing the face of Fred so it would not upset anyone, as glimpses of my own past and the one who used to own this body swirled in my soul.
Pain hit my feeble form quickly, one day, and as my eyes shot open…fists clenched tightly to my belly…I collapsed to the ground. Was the war not over? Was I being called back into battle?
No…
“My brothers…”
Dead. They were all dead, gone from the Deeper Well and I was alone again. How could this be? My eyes had shut, not from the pain of it all, but to reach out to the sounds of the universe that remained to me to discover the source…
And why.
I had been informed that The Cotswolds was the mortal name for my old prison where all the God-Kings had rested and that my travels would take me first to a place known as Heathrow. I had also been told that the “X-Box”, as it was named, would need to be a carry-on.
The pain lessened as time went on, yet that was only the physical side of it. The other side - the human side with emotions I still could not comprehend - was another matter entirely. Yet I remained, ever seeking, ever searching…Wesley’s journal in hand as the body of the former Fred Burkle stepped out with a very-human smile on her face.
On my face.