Post by Kaven Drell on Feb 16, 2020 17:37:23 GMT -5
A heavy mist hangs low over the dimly lit grass, shadows cast across the ground by tree branches swaying in front of lamps that dot a cracked and crumbling roadway. There’s a chill that runs up the spine of the watcher, causing them to wrap their arms around their waist tightly, trying to capture the warmth that seemed to be fleeing from them with swiftness. Off in the distance the silhouette of a figure approaches, though the features are hard to distinguish given the time of day and the fog that seems determined to creep into every inch of free space in the vicinity.
Trying to obscure themselves from sight, the watcher slumps against the base of a large oak tree nearby. Long tendrils of jet black hair, soaked in water or, perhaps, some other liquid hang heavy down the watchers back. If one was to pay close enough attention they would notice a slight tremble, or a shiver, as a soft breeze found its way beneath the garments, chilling the watcher to the bone. In the crushing silence, a whisper chases it away, dancing on the breeze, and finding its way to the intruder.
“Come.”
A sharp inhaling of oxygen into two lungs startled by the sound reveal the uncertainty and the fear of the watcher. But even so, the fog which hung so heavily seemed to part in an unnatural fashion, weaving its way through the open ground before eventually finding its way to the tree. On the opposite end, some one hundred feet away, another figure stood with open arms extended, though the face was concealed by the hood of a dark cloak. More urgently the voice reaches out, imploring the watcher.
“Come. Come. I have been waiting.”
As though compelled, the frightened creature that had been watching jolts forward, stumbling a few feet before catching and steadying themselves. Step by step they approached, the fog seeming to creep in and lash at their skin tauntingly. Instinctively the watcher stepped to the away, nearer to the other edge but as they did so the wall of fog on the other side drew nearer as well eliciting a terrified whimper.
“Be not afraid, watcher. An end is nothing to be afraid of. But an end has come. Embrace it.”
Still, the figure stands with arms open wide, ushering the black haired watcher along their bath. As the figure is approached and drawn nearer to, two other cloaked and robed figures come into sight standing a few feet behind the one who had spoken. It was only a few steps further now. One. Two. Three. And then the two men who had been flanking the central figure were on the watcher in a blur, gripping the shoulders as the central figure stepped forward and pulled the hood of his robe back, revealing his face. The bushy beard was a familiar was, as was the sinister sneer that was etched into his expression as he stared down at the black haired watcher.
“On your knees.”
There was little resistance as the black haired figure, revealed to be a female a moment later, was forced to kneel. With a simple wave of his hand the two men stepped carefully away from her, the fog scattering about them and revealing an open rectangular pit a few feet away. At one end of the pit was a stone slab with markings on it that could not yet be deciphered.
“Sometimes our choices take us on a path that we never intended to go. Sometimes our choices result in consequences that we never anticipated. For you, my dear watcher, your fate was sealed some time ago as was the one whom you have come bearing the sins of. The one whom you represent. You, my sweet little watcher, as Brodies pascal lamb.”
Reaching down, he stroked her cheek gently, wiping away a tear that had begun to stream from the corner of her eye downward on her cheek to the ground.
“But what Brodie must learn, sweet watcher, is that there is no atonement for the sin of crossing me. There can be no atoning for the foolishness of stepping into my path. I have tried to warn others in the past but even so, like the Hebrews blind to their coming Messiah, you failed to learn from the mistakes of your predecessors. It was to be Johnny Vachon who stepped into my battleground and took from me but instead I stripped him of everything he believed about himself and sent him home clutching the cold, cruel moral victory that losers are left to comfort themselves with. Then it was to be the woman who could transcend space and time, until she came face to face with a man whose hand can reach out and bring time to a halt.”
Squatting down, Kaven cocked his head curiously at the girl that was on her knees in front of him. Her long black hair, so similar to his opponents, fascinated him as he reached out and took a long, wet strand into his fingers.
“What is it that brought you to my home, Brodie? Is it curiosity? We could have such fun together, if only you would allow yourself. I could free you and you could be the sort of monster that brings even a man with the most start of hearts to his knees before you, all of that courage turned to ash in your wake. Would you take my hand if I offered it to you?”
Reaching his right hand outward toward the girl in front of him, he cocked his head a little bit further, his own curiosity getting the best of him as he wondered if even his own vicar of his opponent might accept his hand. Instead she remained there trembling, unmoving. With a sigh, Kaven withdrew his hand from her and let go of the strand of hair he had been holding in the other, stroking her cheek with the back of his palm once more.
“Perhaps it is pride that brought you to my doorstep. Pride that brings you into my ring. Pride that emboldens you to think that this will end in any way other than devastation. I remember that pride that you felt when you were the bright, shining horror show of Valor Pro Wrestling. I remember the fierce pride that drove you to war with Zachariah Krahe. And then I remember watching as that pride grew and weighed you down and became your undoing at the hands of a man whom the world bought into because they believed him to be like them. For… one night only.”
Kaven chuckled harkening back to the start of the quest of Danny Rizzo as he became synonymous with the term UnYielding, knowing that it had been at the expense of Brodie that that journey began.
“Mayhaps it’s vengeance, eh? Vengeance because you recognize that it is at my guidance that Danny Rizzo slayed you and erased your name from the memory of most. A thirst for my blood after what you lost because of me. So many emotions. Tossed about too and fro you are, Brody. Someone upsets you and you proclaim to bring ultraviolence down upon them, as though that thought is something to be frightened of. That may have been your bread and butter in the past, my sweet watcher. But I wonder now… what happens when you step into an arena with a man who has an unquenchable thirst for it? Hurt me, Brodie. I beg of you, make my ligaments burn. Spill my blood. Tear at my flesh. Flay me for the world to see. And then…”
Dropping to his own knees, he leaned forward putting his forehead to the black haired woman before him, staring her directly in the eyes and licking his lips as he did so, a sliver of drool forming in the corners of his mouth in a sort of froth.
“Watch.”
Silence. Staring directly into the other womans eyes. His chest rising. Falling. His breathing heavy and ragged. Deranged moans of laughter rumble from deep within him, echoing into the silent, dimly lit night. The heavy fog swirls around the two unnaturally.
“Watch in horror as I carry on. Watch in horror as you lash out, as you scratch, as you claw and bite and frantically grope for hope that rapidly slips from your fingertips as I demand more of you than you can give. Look me in the eyes and behold the master of the trenches as he tears you down bit, by bit, by bit. Embrace the shame. Embrace the suffering. Embrace the end of all that you believed you were, sweet watcher. Because at the end of the day, that is what your destiny has always been. She who watches her own undoing.”
Reaching around to the back of the woman’s head, Kaven took a handful of her hair into his own and jerked on it violently as his legs drove him back up to a standing position. Taking a step to the side he fought against her as panicked pleas escaped from the core of her soul. Softly, he hushed her and brought her to the edge of the rectangular pit.
“I am that inevitable end, Brodie. Not just for you, but for so many who have come before you. Your path may veer another direction when this night comes to its conclusion, but it will go no further than it currently stands. In your future there may be glory. There may be gold. There may be the praises of men and women. But this path. This course. It goes no further. There is no continuing in my battleground once I am done with you. You are not the first. You will not be the last. But…”
Stepping to the side, he reached with his other hand to grasp her hair, releasing with his left once he had done so before bringing her to the brink.
“You are the next. All that is left for you to do…”
With one more violent jerk, and then the release of his hand, the woman tumbled into the rectangular pit as Kaven hissed above her screams.
“Is watch.”
A panicked howl echoed through the night but was soon silenced by swirling fog. In a flash Kaven and the two figures that had accompanied him were obscured from sight. Unnervingly, everything fell quiet as the fog pulsed and radiated before parting and providing a path for those who remained to observe. Slowly, the stone slab at the height of the rectangular pit came closer and the inscription on the stone became legible: The last view of the watcher, Brodie.
Trying to obscure themselves from sight, the watcher slumps against the base of a large oak tree nearby. Long tendrils of jet black hair, soaked in water or, perhaps, some other liquid hang heavy down the watchers back. If one was to pay close enough attention they would notice a slight tremble, or a shiver, as a soft breeze found its way beneath the garments, chilling the watcher to the bone. In the crushing silence, a whisper chases it away, dancing on the breeze, and finding its way to the intruder.
“Come.”
A sharp inhaling of oxygen into two lungs startled by the sound reveal the uncertainty and the fear of the watcher. But even so, the fog which hung so heavily seemed to part in an unnatural fashion, weaving its way through the open ground before eventually finding its way to the tree. On the opposite end, some one hundred feet away, another figure stood with open arms extended, though the face was concealed by the hood of a dark cloak. More urgently the voice reaches out, imploring the watcher.
“Come. Come. I have been waiting.”
As though compelled, the frightened creature that had been watching jolts forward, stumbling a few feet before catching and steadying themselves. Step by step they approached, the fog seeming to creep in and lash at their skin tauntingly. Instinctively the watcher stepped to the away, nearer to the other edge but as they did so the wall of fog on the other side drew nearer as well eliciting a terrified whimper.
“Be not afraid, watcher. An end is nothing to be afraid of. But an end has come. Embrace it.”
Still, the figure stands with arms open wide, ushering the black haired watcher along their bath. As the figure is approached and drawn nearer to, two other cloaked and robed figures come into sight standing a few feet behind the one who had spoken. It was only a few steps further now. One. Two. Three. And then the two men who had been flanking the central figure were on the watcher in a blur, gripping the shoulders as the central figure stepped forward and pulled the hood of his robe back, revealing his face. The bushy beard was a familiar was, as was the sinister sneer that was etched into his expression as he stared down at the black haired watcher.
“On your knees.”
There was little resistance as the black haired figure, revealed to be a female a moment later, was forced to kneel. With a simple wave of his hand the two men stepped carefully away from her, the fog scattering about them and revealing an open rectangular pit a few feet away. At one end of the pit was a stone slab with markings on it that could not yet be deciphered.
“Sometimes our choices take us on a path that we never intended to go. Sometimes our choices result in consequences that we never anticipated. For you, my dear watcher, your fate was sealed some time ago as was the one whom you have come bearing the sins of. The one whom you represent. You, my sweet little watcher, as Brodies pascal lamb.”
Reaching down, he stroked her cheek gently, wiping away a tear that had begun to stream from the corner of her eye downward on her cheek to the ground.
“But what Brodie must learn, sweet watcher, is that there is no atonement for the sin of crossing me. There can be no atoning for the foolishness of stepping into my path. I have tried to warn others in the past but even so, like the Hebrews blind to their coming Messiah, you failed to learn from the mistakes of your predecessors. It was to be Johnny Vachon who stepped into my battleground and took from me but instead I stripped him of everything he believed about himself and sent him home clutching the cold, cruel moral victory that losers are left to comfort themselves with. Then it was to be the woman who could transcend space and time, until she came face to face with a man whose hand can reach out and bring time to a halt.”
Squatting down, Kaven cocked his head curiously at the girl that was on her knees in front of him. Her long black hair, so similar to his opponents, fascinated him as he reached out and took a long, wet strand into his fingers.
“What is it that brought you to my home, Brodie? Is it curiosity? We could have such fun together, if only you would allow yourself. I could free you and you could be the sort of monster that brings even a man with the most start of hearts to his knees before you, all of that courage turned to ash in your wake. Would you take my hand if I offered it to you?”
Reaching his right hand outward toward the girl in front of him, he cocked his head a little bit further, his own curiosity getting the best of him as he wondered if even his own vicar of his opponent might accept his hand. Instead she remained there trembling, unmoving. With a sigh, Kaven withdrew his hand from her and let go of the strand of hair he had been holding in the other, stroking her cheek with the back of his palm once more.
“Perhaps it is pride that brought you to my doorstep. Pride that brings you into my ring. Pride that emboldens you to think that this will end in any way other than devastation. I remember that pride that you felt when you were the bright, shining horror show of Valor Pro Wrestling. I remember the fierce pride that drove you to war with Zachariah Krahe. And then I remember watching as that pride grew and weighed you down and became your undoing at the hands of a man whom the world bought into because they believed him to be like them. For… one night only.”
Kaven chuckled harkening back to the start of the quest of Danny Rizzo as he became synonymous with the term UnYielding, knowing that it had been at the expense of Brodie that that journey began.
“Mayhaps it’s vengeance, eh? Vengeance because you recognize that it is at my guidance that Danny Rizzo slayed you and erased your name from the memory of most. A thirst for my blood after what you lost because of me. So many emotions. Tossed about too and fro you are, Brody. Someone upsets you and you proclaim to bring ultraviolence down upon them, as though that thought is something to be frightened of. That may have been your bread and butter in the past, my sweet watcher. But I wonder now… what happens when you step into an arena with a man who has an unquenchable thirst for it? Hurt me, Brodie. I beg of you, make my ligaments burn. Spill my blood. Tear at my flesh. Flay me for the world to see. And then…”
Dropping to his own knees, he leaned forward putting his forehead to the black haired woman before him, staring her directly in the eyes and licking his lips as he did so, a sliver of drool forming in the corners of his mouth in a sort of froth.
“Watch.”
Silence. Staring directly into the other womans eyes. His chest rising. Falling. His breathing heavy and ragged. Deranged moans of laughter rumble from deep within him, echoing into the silent, dimly lit night. The heavy fog swirls around the two unnaturally.
“Watch in horror as I carry on. Watch in horror as you lash out, as you scratch, as you claw and bite and frantically grope for hope that rapidly slips from your fingertips as I demand more of you than you can give. Look me in the eyes and behold the master of the trenches as he tears you down bit, by bit, by bit. Embrace the shame. Embrace the suffering. Embrace the end of all that you believed you were, sweet watcher. Because at the end of the day, that is what your destiny has always been. She who watches her own undoing.”
Reaching around to the back of the woman’s head, Kaven took a handful of her hair into his own and jerked on it violently as his legs drove him back up to a standing position. Taking a step to the side he fought against her as panicked pleas escaped from the core of her soul. Softly, he hushed her and brought her to the edge of the rectangular pit.
“I am that inevitable end, Brodie. Not just for you, but for so many who have come before you. Your path may veer another direction when this night comes to its conclusion, but it will go no further than it currently stands. In your future there may be glory. There may be gold. There may be the praises of men and women. But this path. This course. It goes no further. There is no continuing in my battleground once I am done with you. You are not the first. You will not be the last. But…”
Stepping to the side, he reached with his other hand to grasp her hair, releasing with his left once he had done so before bringing her to the brink.
“You are the next. All that is left for you to do…”
With one more violent jerk, and then the release of his hand, the woman tumbled into the rectangular pit as Kaven hissed above her screams.
“Is watch.”
A panicked howl echoed through the night but was soon silenced by swirling fog. In a flash Kaven and the two figures that had accompanied him were obscured from sight. Unnervingly, everything fell quiet as the fog pulsed and radiated before parting and providing a path for those who remained to observe. Slowly, the stone slab at the height of the rectangular pit came closer and the inscription on the stone became legible: The last view of the watcher, Brodie.