The chains on his ankles clanged against his bare skin as the silent, dank cell slowly was filled with the light. Manson took a sigh seeing that another day had past. He stared at the dirty ground beneath him as he lie on his side attempting to steady his breaths. Looking at his hands, the skin had almost completely turned to bone. What little was left was horribly charred at this point. How many days had he been subjected to this awful torture? It had to have been at least a month by this point. He sobbed staring at his broken hands barely able to rise now, his limb body hurting with every sporatic breath he drew in. "I guess this is the fate of a killer after all," he forced a chuckle between tears. "No matter how hard you try...you can't run from the mess you were born into, huh?"
After his sobbing finally stopped, the cell was again met with silence. The next few minutes felt like eternity as he stared at the light flooding in to the ground. Around this time every night, someone would come to his cell and ask him that same question. Something along the lines of: "Who were your conspirators? Who were the leaders of the Ghoul Rebellion?" And he would respond in suit: "Just me." And every night, there were consequences. His body had enough by now and he wished for nothing but the safety of his friends. "Shire, Rei....Hell, even Nagiko. Please...don't let the rebellion die here."
Like clockwork, he heard footsteps from above slowly making their way to his cell. Two pairs, it seemed. Somewhat unusual. As his door creaked open, one of them spoke, "Ah, Manson. I see you are doing well," her voice energetic, Amy made her way to his shackles. " 'Sup, bitch," he suppressed a cough between his words. The other person approached him from behind and tightly fastened a blindfold and gag to him. "Preparing," she spoke emphatically. "We can't be having you spout any of your nonsense on your special day." His closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His tattered shirt had practically be scorched and ripped in half by now and his dinky jeans were almost worst for wear. "God, you smell like crap, ghoul boy," she said pulling him up by his arm. She leaned over and whispered to him, "I really thought things could be different Manson. I'm sorry."
She's...sorry? What the hell did that mean? Wasn't she the one who -
"If the gag fits, Mister Renard, you must wear it." beamed Sabot, eyeing his muffled attempts at profanities.
The two held him upright until he could get his bearings. Dragged by a rope, he was lead out of his cell and up the staircase. His wobbly, malnourished body could barely keep with the two before him. Slowly, they made their way outside.
[attr=class,herkiss]The devil hides her true face.
[attr=class,arabella]Amy Faye
[attr=class,passengerside] It felt good, to Amy, to finally put this whole business to rest. At last, the day of Manson's execution had come and despite his beat-up state, she and Sabot sought to lead him all the way from Upper Pavane to the slums where he had once lived. Word of mouth was spreading by now of a certain "Ghoul Uprising Leader" and his coming execution. Manson Renard, former bodyguard of Amy Faye, being put to death on grounds of extreme terrorism. "Sabot," she mentioned on the way to Slums, "let this be a warning to you. We shall not let another rat into Upper Pavane again." Though none could see it, her Tattoo grew brighter in that moment.
The walk took forever and a few times, Manson even fell to his feet on the stairs down to Middle Pavane. Eventually, Amy elected to carry him the rest of the way. "You've lost a few pounds," she commented as she picked him up. "It's like I'm carrying a twig."
The sun was almost completely set by the time Amy and Sabot had made it to the hanging block where a large gathering of people of all races anxiously awaited the Council's arrival. They were met with applause, jeers, cries, silence. A range of emotions filled the crowd as they saw the ghastly ghoul's desecrated body dragged to the rope. "Citizens of Pavane," Amy yelled as the voices collectively ground to a halt, "This man, Manson Renard, led the ghouls himself in gross acts of terrorism against the people of Pavane. Because of this vile man, countless an innocent child and angel suffered gruesome, untimely deaths. And for what purpose? Immortal beings, slain, eaten viciously in front of Pavane's terrified eyes...Just as they had with the humans, the ghouls took advantage of our peace and has caused great suffering to upstanding members of Pavane, most of whom have lived longer than Pavane itself." Intense rage and passion filled her voice. "We have been at peace for hundreds, no, thousands of years due to the diligence of the Council and the people of Pavane's hard efforts. And this race DARES spit in the face of each and every one of us hard-working citizens of Pavane?" Manson struggled to say something, but Amy quickly kicked him in the gut, eliciting an intense scream. She talked to him directly and loudly so that all might hear, "Manson Renard, my dear bodyguard. I have given you nothing but love and trust. Support and money for your now famous Club. And what do you do, you ungrateful bastard?" she picked him up by his chin, pulling his tearful eyes towards her own. His brow furrowed intensely as she spoke, "You pillaged us. You raped us. You killed us. All of Pavane. Indiscriminately. Do you think your little stunt was cute? ...Well, it's time to suffer the same fate of as those you made painfully suffer. Meaningless violence. Senseless despair. You will understand now what that feels like." Amy motioned to Sabot as she let go of him suppressing the excited smile from encroaching on her face.
[attr="class","mouths1"]The angel would have scanned the audience for creatures of interest but the crowd proved too distant and too numerous from her position atop the platform. Aiming to get an easier grip on the ghoul, one of her hands choked up on his shoulder, registering a shudder from Manson. Sabot presumed it was pain rippling from his shattered collarbone.
"Witnessing history in the making." she smiled to herself, as Faye concluded her address to the crowd. As the Demon Council Member released her grip on the ghoul's head, Sabot stepped forward, picking up the wretch where she'd left off. Sabot dragged Manson up each step, with little regard for the warped wood licking his bloodied legs with splinters at every touch.
"Poor thing. All you ever were was confused. And I fear that confused is all you will ever be." Sabot lifted his head towards the rope with her other hand. Even when he had been at his normal weight, one hand was all Sabot needed to hoist the ghoul around. Faye had insisted on helping. A breeze saw the noose move slightly, as if to compensate for Manson's shaking vision.
The angel guided the burlap sack over his battered features and gently placed the noose around his neck, as if she were awarding him a medal. Sabot stood back and looked to Faye in case she had anything more to add.
As Amy was reaching over to drop Manson, a strained voice screamed beneath the bag. "H-human ns..... They Live! Don't tr ust.. Council dogs," the hoarse voice screamed. "They'll kill you all too! Don't-"
Before he could complete his thought, the noose around his neck tightened. He could not breathe, and quickly thereafter, stopped struggling all together.
[attr=class,herkiss]The devil hides her true face.
[attr=class,arabella]Amy Faye
[attr=class,passengerside] "Ramblings of a madman on his deathbed," she scoffed paying his words no mind. Without so much as a goodbye, she left the stand in silence, keeping her composure until she knew privacy once more.
Greta's focused gaze drowned out the Council Member's abuse and epithets. The pain written on Manson's face told more than she could ever have needed to know. A vicious heat emanated in her chest cavity and her twin drills grew heavier on her head. Thoughts of both Manson's gambit and Rei sitting at home arrived to reverse her anger into a dark woe.
Manson had known. Known that he didn't need to stipulate that she was not to let Rei attend or otherwise discover his demise. Greta would not allowed Rei to do so under any circumstance. Yet he spent a win on making her swear to it. In fact, she was surprised in finding the will to attend herself. Perhaps it was all to earn a last look at the man who had yet to lose to her in games of chance, and now would never be able to. The same man who, instead of using his repeated victories to extract every gold coin he could from her, opted to bet the salvation of another, over his own. The heat left the body and the horns twisted back into nothingness.
He'd always opted to write his wagers on napkins. Greta wiped her eyes preemptively with a completed one, the napkin on which he'd stipulated for Greta to ask Rei if he would want her to run a bath for him. A joke, he'd assured her. As if to poke some kind of cosmic fun at the demon, that game of poker, aside from being his second to last game with her ever, was the closest she'd come to beating him. His straight flush boasted the higher card than hers had.
The last game they'd played was not something she wanted to recall. Yet she'd gone and kept the ivory roulette ball in her jacket pocket. Sinking back into the alley's shadows, Greta crushed the item in her hand, letting the dust scatter onto the cobblestone as she took her leave.
"Now... only the Witches remained." In one of the bancony, an angel stood with her lantern burning softly in pale light. Her wings, strangely pitch-black, lightly shook as she uttered her words— a race vanished before her eyes, a race related to the Humans for whom she longed.
"Sister Amy... what are you hiding? The High Council has never been so... weak, like this." Arciea looked at the display of terror and fear, but beneath that facade, the ruthless Council seemed to be... compromising.
Unfortunately, Arciea was too far to hear the words of the ghoul— too far indeed. Maybe she was destinated to never know the truth; but that was not the question. The real question is: will she accept it?
Nagiko strained her eyes to see what the commotion was about. She'd left the clinic to pick up some groceries for the nice witch doctor and, on her return, had run into a large crowd. She created a popsicle for herself and tried to make her way through the crowd for a better view.
Some kind of Council execution? Gross, she shuddered in thought. The elf turned away to leave, until the loud voice began addressing the audience. Turning to see the speaker, she barely recognised the Demon Council Member. Well, I didn't vote for you, she thought.
A professional-looking angel stood behind her on the same platform. Then Nagiko's eyes made their way to what the crowd seemed to think was the main attraction. A ghoul? Not just any ghoul, right?
She sucked on the candy, finishing it in an instant, and then began sucking on her teeth, trying to recall the man's identity.
Poor mister, she thought. Despite her best efforts, Nagiko could not recall just who this poor mister was and decided to take her leave such that the nice witch doctor wouldn't worry that she'd fallen asleep in a random location again.
A purple jackal exited the crowd inconspicuously, being mistaken for an exotic stray by the few who managed to notice.
[attr=class,punkisaintstop] it is I who bring hell and heaven to you
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your loyalty for your salvation and nothing else
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SHE IS THE POPE
[attr=class,punkisaintscontent] "Holy Mother." A series of footsteps echoed inside an empty hall as an elf slowly made her way to the kneeling, praying figure of the Pope. The Cardinal made sure to not disturb the peace and silently waited until the Pope raised her head.[break][break]
"Your Eminence, come; pray with me." The Holy Mother whispered as she took out an black exquisite pocket case and opened it. In a gentle motion, the Pope took out a cigarette and lit them with a flick of her finger.[break][break]
Clouds of strangely pale mist spread across the room as the Cardinal approached the Holy Mother. The foggy scenery whispered tranquil into the heart and caressed the mind with sweet fragrance.[break][break]
"Holy Mother, I have an urgent piece of news that required your attention." The Cardinal ignored the smoke as she kneeled down behind the Holy Mother and lowered her head, praying before the statue of Yggdrasil.[break][break]
"Your Eminence, let us pray first." It was only until the cigarette was half-finished did the Holy Mother crushed it into nothingness with her fingers and stood up.[break][break]
"Holy Mother, which poor soul are you praying for?" The Cardinal took note of the Holy Mother's action. When she smoked, it meant that something of significance had happened. Of course, the rules never permitted smoking, but the rules were made by the Pope— and the Pope was the rules.[break][break]
"I pray for all of them, Your Eminence. Now, answer me, what wil happen to the revolution, now that the Ghoul is no more?" The Holy Mother, with her back against the Cardinal, slowly turned to face her and had their gaze locked.[break][break]
"We have received the news regarding the execution of the sole leader of the rebellion, Manson Renard. As the Holy Mother said, the Ghoul is no more, and so the rebellion— the High Council has once again won." The Cardinal questioned not the foreknowledge of the Holy Mother. It was unclear how the Holy Mother knew, but the truth remained that she knew.[break][break]
"Your Eminence, I saw cracks and rifts in the Council— the original races never fell; the Goddesses ensue so." The Holy Mother, with her solemn face, shook her head and extended her hand towards the Cardinal— as her trandition, the Cardinal kissed the azure gem on the ring and slowly retreated away.[break][break]
"Tell them the new dawn is coming, and prepare an umbrella— it's going to be a rainy day." Before the Cardinal disappeared, the Holy Mother spoke for one last time. The sky was empty, and there was no sign of dark clouds or the thunderstorm.
"There goes a real hardcore one." Laimbeer took a swig from his pocket flask. From the rooftop, he caught a real good look at the guilty parties. The demon, and the angel. "No excuses when it's our turn." He'd never met the ghoul before--it was also possible that the charges were fabricated. Scapegoated on the poor guy. Even if that was the case, throwing an outburst like that, when most would sob for some reprieve. "Wicked." His head rested on his hand. Turning his flask over, Laimbeer capped the empty vessel and deposited it into a jacket pocket.
Whatever ripple effects this could have died out with the ghouls, unfortunately. What's the point of a martyr without followers? Doesn't make any sense. Pointless. Laimbeer's drinking stemmed more from pity than sympathy, though some amount of the latter was present.
There's no excitement to this. Hanging a three-quarters dead guy for a show of force? Senseless. Laimbeer looked at the newspaper clipping that had dropped in his lap. "I can't get one day off?" he said to no one in the vicinity. Laimbeer examined his cleaver and nodded his head to pay respects to the recently departed one more time before he left the roof.
LAIKA OF GS!
Last Edit: Apr 27, 2020 8:55:04 GMT -5 by Laimbeer
Living in a dystopian society, seven mystic races are trapped due to their own selfishness. Tensions rise between the races and the different social classes, leading up to the constant struggle for power, with no end in sight.
News
4/11 - With the Ghoul Purge complete, Pavane's fear shifts from the goddesses towards the Council. Check out the aftermath here to get an understanding of the current situation in the plot.
MYSTICAL SOULS belongs to YUMEKUI, DYLZOE AND LUNARIS. This is an original plot created by staff members.. The skin "Midnight Madness" was created by Dorothia. This includes Board Mod, Mini-Profile Mod and such. Thread list was made by Kagney. User Profile mod was made by Pharaoh Leap. Graphics belong to their rightful owner. Plagiarism is not appreciated and will not be tolerated.
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