The Children of Sayang/Chaos
Posted 26 June 2009 - 01:58 PM
“The devils greatest trick was to convince the world he did not exist.”
The Industrial Guildhall, assembly point of the most illustrious actors of modern and former day Khazan. Founded hundreds of years ago by six free, independent, master craftsmen of the arts, its halls have seen legends come and go. Today, there are hundreds of members, but only six major players in the Guild. They are known as the honorable High Council: each of who control and keep the secrets of the arts and mysteries of their craft. The time-honored traditions of Khazan’s finest thespians live and breathe through these six figures. That is until today…
At the moment, those six figures find themselves bound and gagged to chairs
in the main council room of the Guildhall. It is midnight and all non-council members
have exited the premises for the comfort of their homes. It is in these twilight hours that the secret society of six convenes and discusses current events, history and topics of the day. Trusting in their hidden location deep within the bowels of the Guildhall, the meetings have never been interrupted. Yet, before the Council today stands six dark cloaked and armed figures garbed in theatrical masks concealing their facial features.
Apart from the other five ebon-cloaked abductors, a prominent crimson figure lurches forward. Smoothly floating across the room with a knife in hand, he taunts the Council with fearsome gestures. A female member cries and rocks as her hopes for survival wander away. As if her tears called him forth, the crimson leader’s knife finds its way to her neck as he begins to address his captives. “I’m sure you are all wondering why you are here bound in such a way. More importantly to some of you is how we managed
to find this inner sanctum of yours. I’m sure you’re all a bit uneasy, well it has been said that real art should have the capacity to make us nervous. All will be answered in due time; for the night is long and it is ours for the taking, ladies and gentlemen.” As he speaks, the leader flails like some classical actor upon the stage. At every climax, the dark cloaked assailants clap in approval. A few of the captives wince at the mockery. The young woman with the knife to her neck retches. “This wonderful setting of yours provides such excellent cover for the likes of us, don’t you agree?” He waits for a second as if to receive an answer from his gagged victims. “Of course you do. Now before you accuse me of going off on a tirade like a mad scientist, despot or nitwit super-villain on some various shaped cartoon panel, let me begin to explain to you the predicament you are in. I assure you this quandary of yours is quite inimitable. ”
With the captive’s chairs placed in a circular fashion; the sinister host enters the center of his abducted and carries on. “You see, ladies and gentlemen, the world is a stage and as actors it is our sworn duty to perform upon this stage. Therefore, it can only be believed that the world is ours for the taking. For too long have we been slave to screen, platform and dais. For too long have we been sully to the mediocrity of the written word. Directors and producers be damned.” The evil figure chuckles: eerily his followers’ chuckle synonymously in the background. “Ah, what a scene! Look at you all. Illustrious celebrities you are. But, actors you are not. You know nothing of true acting. You are no better than a night mistress and my companions and I will no longer tolerate the pimping of our craft. Tonight, you shall fade away into the night and be born anew. Your sacrifice will usher in the renewal of the arts. This is true originality at its finest.” The leader grabs the bottom of his cloak and begins to dance a jig kicking his feet wildly in the air. “We have seen the Promised Land and it is ours for the taking, ladies and gentlemen.” His cohorts begin to explode in applause and dance wildly like some chaotic old time gospel revival. The leader laughs at the display. One of the bound Council members struggles to verbalize beneath the gag. Infuriated, his face turns a deep red. The crimson-cloaked abductor approaches him like some sick movie villain pointing the edge of his knife into his face. “You’ve got something to say. Please, by all means. I can appreciate last words, especially from the head of the glorious Council.” With a voice filled with cynicism, he cuts the binding gag from the Council leader’s mouth. “THIS IS OUTRAGEOUS!! WHAT DO YOU SEEK TO PROVE HERE? DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHO WE ARE!?! YOU WILL BE SUCCESSFUL IN NOTHING TONIGHT! YOU TALK AS IF YOU ARE OUR BETTER! YOU TALK OF ORIGINALITY, YET YOU SPEAK IN TIRED CLICHES AND QOUTES. KILLING DOESN’T MAKE YOU BETTER, IT MAKES YOU A KILLER! I DEMAND YOU LET US FREE THIS INSTANT!”
With a quick thrust, the crimson man pokes the Council leader’s jugular. Blood spurts freely. The bound woman across the room faints in her restraints as the crimson man turns to them, deadly serious. “You see lady that is true freedom. I never did like that old dote. Regardless, this is the true freedom that I bring you. This is our artwork at its finest.
Listen carefully. You see, this is the operation of free will. As great characters should be capable of great goods and evils. The audience must be able to sympathize with the protagonist. As the hero, I may commit great atrocities, yet I may always have the option of redemption. I committed a great crime in the name of art. As such, I move unerringly to my doom, yet I will be rectified in the end when the true genius of my masterpiece is
known.” Bounding across the room, the self-proclaimed anti-hero hoists onto a podium.
“Please understand this…Death is the ultimate consummation of love.” He points to the gushing figure bleeding out on the floor. “My friend here was not a victim due to any fault of his own. His death was an act of love on my behalf. The love I have for my craft; the love that has left the acting world. That is, until now. You see, absurdity must be attempted to achieve impossibility. You must cause a little storm in the eye of the calm. As a result, I will introduce the new Actors Guild of Khazan…and with their introduction I will give you the method to my assumed madness.”
Commander – Marshell Percy (the Master Psychic Psycho)
Character coming soon to the FPL
As the tension builds in the room, one of the cloaked figures splashes water onto the unconscious female. She awakens startled and turns her dizzy attention to the podium. The crimson leader leans in closely and removes his theatrical mask. He unleashes a wretched grin in her direction. Five eyes go wide as they realize who their abductor is. “That’s right, Marshell Percy, classically trained actor extraordinaire at your services.” The blond actor pronounces with beady eyes and a devilish pearly white smile. “How long has it been my friends? I’d say about five years since my tragic death, wouldn’t you? Heh, don’t look so shocked. You look as if you’ve never seen a Machiavellian act before.” A muffled ‘madman’ can be heard whispered amongst the crowd. “Please listen carefully, if this little treat shocks you, then before your curtains close tonight, you may be completely in awe.
You see, in order for the new era to commence, I had to completely destroy the former me. By faking my own death, I have become harbinger and herald to the new frontier of acting. The greatest stories are tragedies and convincing the world of my death was just act 1 of this great tale.
Standing before you are five proud actors whom have also dedicated themselves to the new era of acting. All of whom have thrown away their former lives to be born anew. As well, you’re lives will be sacrificed for the greatest actors in the world to inhabit. Freedom in its purest form. We are no longer men and women, but embodiments of the performing arts. We will become anyone and everyone within the globe. We shall take away the mediocrity of your lives and act it out as we see fit. Within your world,
we will change ours one person at a time gathering faithfuls to the cause as we go.
If our acting is truly magnificent, then no man shall no the difference until we see fit. You see great Council, this is true acting. Men and women inhabiting the lives of those around us with the world as our stage. We will kill at will and become anything the role desires. You see, Art begins to truly imitate life. My god, such utter brilliance! Does it not excite you to stand before such great times?” Suddenly and all at once, the five captors shuffle and struggle to purge themselves free. “Settle down folks, it gets better.”
Detective – Sir Angelo Oldcastle
“You may ask how we shall pull off such feats of daring. Well, I bring forth over 100 years of acting dominance. Now let me introduce my players as well as reveal to you my plot. First…” Marshell gestures to one of the cloaked figures. “…we have Sir, Angelo Oldcastle.” The slightly tall gentleman removes his theatrical mask to reveal a chiseled muscular jaw line. The classically handsome actor bows before Marshell. He addresses the crowd with a deep voice. “How do you do? Indubitably, some of you may know me as the great Detective Arick Huebris of the Arick Huebris Chronicles. A jolly good set of movies those were, if I may say so myself. As some of you lot, not over indulged in your own lives, may remember I died in an apartment fire a few years back. A grand show that was! Alas, it was just that…a grand show and nothing more. For here I stand before you, alive and doing quite well, thank you very much.” The unen(I use bad words)bered crowd laughs as Oldcastle bows before them. “As a method actor, you all know that I have years of experience. Why, my many detective movies broke box office records worldwide. I have accomplished excellence in my art, which leads to my dismay. Indisputably, the pits of my excellence are living in this world of mediocrity. Once one touches the height of perfection in art, it becomes quite burdensome to wade in the waters of the merely ordinary. That is why I am here.
For this reason, it is I that provides the thorough examinations into our quarries. As a consequence of my many years in training for these roles, I have numerous connections throughout the world of investigation; I research, study and learn every detail, every movement and every nuance of the target before entering character. As we all do. For years, I have trained this lot for our ultimate role. It is without any skepticism to say, we have been studying you six for quite some time. Why at this point, I can mimic Mr. Leehan faultlessly. For instance, right now I’d gather he has made quite a mess of himself. Why, he has never been made of the sterner stuff, now have we Mr. Leehan?” They all laugh as the bound captive has in fact created a small puddle beneath his chair. “Now lads, let me disappoint you further as I tell you that we also know this old Guildhall better than you know your own homes. We’ve come and gone countless times during the days and nights. We’ve researched its every square inch. We’ve stolen do(I use bad words)ents, blueprints and materials necessary to lay you in the predicament you now face. The lot of you has met here so often that you’ve become quite careless of your surroundings. I’d gather many would do the same in your state of affairs. One minute you were having a pleasant assembly, the next you are the last prodigies of a soon forgotten style of acting. It is with no remorse that I bid you all ado. You sad lot you.” Sir Oldcastle nods at Marshell and bows. “Sir Oldcastle, we thank you.” Marshell says. Oldcastle bows again and withdraws into the shadows.
Tactician – Sheryl Quimby
A shorter figure swaggers with a cocky strut into the center of the constrained. Pulling her mask off, she is revealed to be a woman. “Ms. Sheryl Quimby, ladies and gentlemen. Or should I say just ladies, for Ms. Quimby will be replacing you, Ms. Danby.” Marshell peers over the podium at the still crying actress tied to her chair. She turns her head in disgust. Marshell smirks and persists. “Ms. Quimby reportedly had a huge drug overdose three years ago. Alas they buried her away, Isn’t that right Ms. Quimby?” Quimby steps forward.
With a thick southern drawl, the fierce faced red-head leads her discussion. “Thass right! Now, lissen up ya’ll. Life should be an adventure. I plan to live mine ta tha fullest. Sorry if’n I’s gots ta break some of you eggs on tha way. Cause this here…is the true magic of what we do. You folks KNOW that I’ma wild woman of tha action world. You can’t SIT here and tell me that I didn’t play the HELL out of that ol Jessica Pendleton girly. Plus, I’m the best stunt girl in town. But most importantly, I am quicker on my toes than any of ya. As ol Marshy likes to say, ‘Her knowledge of tactical analysis is unprecedented.’ Well, I ain’t much on the big words like ol Marshy, but I reckon that’s telling it like it is. Don’t git me wrong now. I ain’t no dummy. You bunch of con artist never saw me comin cause it takes a con artist to trick a con artist. Course putting you folks down WAS easy pickings. Hell, all it took was a little cloak and dagger, a little fentanyl in tha ol air ducts and presto. But soon enough we are goin ta be all over the world. We are goin ta play every part in town. Great and powerful folks too. Hell, with my action and stunt movie history and tha acting chops this bunch provides, I’d reckon no force is safe.
For instance, you may ask, ‘how are six actors going to take out the great warriors of Khazan?’ Lissen closely, cause I reckon Im'a tell ya. Through death. If I know anything, it’s that all life knows death. Within that big ol library of yours is a script to nearly EVERY play and EVERY movie made. Luckily for us, it has all been catalogued ta disks and is easily accessible on them good ol computers of yours. Like ol Marshy says, ‘Nothing is original’ and if there is a way ta kill something, we’re goin ta kill it. We gotta observe and study all the time to get our roles just right and we’re gonna do just the same here. We’re goin ta find every little dirty flaw you got. Isn’t that right Marshy?”
Percy steps forward chuckling and continues, “That is correct, Ms. Quimby. As you explained in your delightful way, everything has its flaws. A mighty master of magnetism assaulted in his sleep by mere odorless carbon monoxide pumped through the vents by a service technician. A powerful telekinetic must eat and drink, but who is serving him…and what is being served? A being whose skin is impervious to pain must still breathe. His butler places a simple plastic bag over his head while he watches the game. Masterful fighters are nothing to the sniper rifle fired from hundreds of feet away as they are enamored by the gorgeous blond walking towards them. So you see, we are not trying to fight you to the death, no…we are not fighters. Well, Quimby is, but we are not.” Quimby smiles and throws up a fist. Marshell resumes, “We just seek your end by any means necessary. For your death harkens the coming and truly we only do this out of love. You may return to your place Ms. Quimby…thank you.”
Weapons Creation – General Von Pelt
“Machine guns, grenades, swords and knives!! Oh how I love the smell of napalm in Khazan! I bet you pissants are wondering how we will obtain such things.” A rusty voice comes from the background. A grizzled old man leaps into the center of the bound already unmasked. “Let’s face facts here boys and girls; we are all filthy rich actors. The world is ours in a handbag. Oh and if your wondering how these sniveling actors will learn to wield such weapons of mass destruction, Let me introduce myself to you…Mr. Richard Von Pelt at your service. General Von Pelt to you, boys and girls. Don’t act like you don’t know me either. I was making the moving pictures before half of you were sucking your momma’s teat. I bet you maggots are wondering how and when I died. Well, jokes on you. I never faked my death. You weak minded simpletons forgot about me. That’s what you rich types do to old farts like me. Forget about us. Well Mr. Percy didn’t forget. I’ve even worked with most of you, I believe. I’ve got nearly 40 years of experience in acting. War movies to be exact. That a necessity here. Why, I know how to get what we need and I know how to use what we get…and I can’t wait to use it on the entire filthy world.”
Invisibility – The Phantoms
Marshell takes to the center stage once again. “Now the question presents itself, how will we get away with such acts? Well, it’s quite simple really. We will remain invisible. You see, as we are considered dead before the public eye, we are like phantoms of this exquisite opera. The greatest actors imaginable performing right before your eyes unbeknownst to you. The audience should forget the actor even exist when watching a performance. This is true acting: to immerse yourself in the role. To accomplish our goals we had to die and now like phantoms we take the guise of the fallen. We enter their persona, their lives; we walk every step as theirs, breathe every breath as theirs; all the while standing right in your face. The trick is not being discovered, for discovery ruins the act. So, we shall remain invisible like phantoms until the great reveal.
Blending – Mr. and Mrs. Ray Talbain
You, the great council, will be first in our epic crusade, followed by whomever we choose, until eventually our followers will have pierced the heavens. We will inhabit all worlds showcasing the greatest performing arts existence has ever witnessed. Disguised as the Council, we will use all the precious assets at your disposal for our needs. The Council has great connections in the business. Together, we will have makeup, costumes,
special effects and all the magic that turns us into anyone we choose. Your garbage man, the cook, a mailman, a super hero or even a…A GOD...soon, we will be all these things. As for now, we are glad to say we have Mr. and Mrs. Ray Talbain: former actors turned make up artist and special effects extraordinaire.” The final two of the masked kidnappers reveal themselves, however the audience is no longer intrigued. Their gags do not mask their disgust. “You see, we have talent in spades. Simple tools and tricks that we have all picked up in the industry will suit just fine until we open up the cache of your fortunes right here in the heart of the Guildhall. The days of archaic acting are behind us ladies and gentlemen. Behold a brave new future. Simply marvelous indeed, wouldn’t you agree Mr. and Mrs. Talbain.” The creepy hippy looking couple smiles meekly in return. Mr. Talbain’s eyes grow wide as he speaks. “We...we just want to kill…and…and…play dress up…again.” He says mildly.
Mind Control – Raya Sayang (the Patron Saint of Chaos)
“Indeed, now as you all know, great guilds cannot exist without the help of great patrons. A new guild such as ours will have many enemies indeed. For ours is such a craft that is currently frowned upon. Regretfully and with this in mind, it is good to have a little security. Well, we have one better. I consider her our patron saint; a small hedge of protection in case things get out of hand. You see, our little assemblage did not meet out of any small coincidence…no. It was something much more in tune with fate. Through a common dream, we all saw her. She goes by the name of Raya Sayang. Like a beautiful star she brightly guided our thoughts to one accord. Appearing in our dreams, she directed our attentions to one another. She has become our muse: our hidden benefactor and we are grateful. So, with no further ado, I close the curtain on this scene and usher in a little imbalance in the order.”
Marshell and his minions step forth and surround their captives. Each actor stands behind the guild members they will be assuming the role of; swaying rhythmically to some unheard sound. The former guild tremble and shutter: some in fear and others in futile attempts to escape. With strange ceremonial daggers in hand, the cloaked strangers stab aggressively into the confined over and over and over. The ambiance is of pure chaos and disorder as the entirety of the room seems to glow an eerie blood red as the gory scene unfolds. The new guild begins to dance and shout about wildly. Marshell grins a horrid Cheshire smile, “Let there be disharmony.”
Any reviews are appreciated...good or bad. Tear into it.
Posted 26 June 2009 - 11:07 PM
Anyway, this is all subject to change with whatever the continuity council does. I am going to try my hardest to get this to fit in whatever the continuity is. If not, so be it. When we finally get all the characters worked out, I will probably do a fiction about the team. Actually, any of you can. Okay, I guess that's it for now. No reviews? Anyone?
Posted 26 June 2009 - 11:17 PM
Posted 01 July 2009 - 06:09 PM
You've used this quote quite a bit, haven't you treach?
Posted 02 July 2009 - 08:21 AM
“The devils greatest trick was to convince the world he did not exist.”
You've used this quote quite a bit, haven't you treach?
I have? I don't recall ever using it.
Posted 18 July 2009 - 11:20 AM
The Actors Guild of Khazan
“The devils greatest trick was to convince the world he did not exist.”
The Uptown Guildhall, assembly point of the most illustrious actors of modern and former day Khazan. Founded hundreds of years ago by six free, independent, master craftsmen of the arts, its halls have seen legends come and go. Today, there are hundreds of members, but still six major players in the Guild. The honorable High Council: each of whom control and keep the secrets of the arts and mysteries of their craft. The time honored traditions of Khazan’s finest thespians live and breathe through these six figures. That is until today…
...For some reason I thought you used it when you wrote Aviel, too. Guess not.
Posted 18 July 2009 - 02:16 PM
In all existence, no being has successfully stood against the will of God. Elders of the multiverse, angels, monster and man have all fallen to the great “I AM”. Only one…just one being…an angel by the name of Zalrafel truly persists defiantly against the creator. Outside of reality itself one could not say he existed, but persisted through sheer force of will alone. Blinded by rage, how could Zalrafel see his own failings? How could he know the true will of God? How could he really stand against such omnipotent will? He was no Cherub and as such did not have perfect knowledge of God. Yet, persist he did against the one that gave him strength.
So arrogant was he, that believing himself forgotten he created a world of refugees. These refugees would become followers to the cult of Zalrafel; the chosen few whom he deemed worthy to exist in his nonexistence. His power was great. His will indomitable. There was no other like him in all creation. No one…until now.
You see, it is often argued whether angels act on free will or is their actions merely the extension of God’s will. This argument makes play time and time again throughout history. Fallen angels such as Stella Aurorae, Zalrafel, Beelzebub and Leviathan have led many to believe that the angels act on their own accord and are made to suffer their mistakes against him. If this is so, then why has Zalrafel not been made to suffer accordingly? Zalrafel often asked this question himself for years following his rebellion until finally believing it was his own might that held God’s armies at bay. Truth lies in the eyes of the beholder and in this tale there is only one omniscient beholder.
“Lambs to the slaughter.” Is what Michael calls the cult of Zalrafel. Throughout time, many angels willingly fell to Zalrafal’s might following the will of God. This was to ensure that Zalrafal was beyond redemption before his final judgment. He was offered salvation by angel Casor, but turned it down. He was even wholly and completely beaten by fallen angel Stella Aurorae, yet still his arrogance grew. False worship, pride and wrath were ugly garments for a former guardian of the light to wear. But the inexistent one wore these garments proudly. Thinking that his strength so powerful that he was beyond the Wrath of God he swelled the walls of his realm. “Lambs to the slaughter.”
Without wasting another of his angelic choir, a new angel was created. His role was the extinguishing of the cult of Zalrafal. If there were any doubt of the Will of God on all creatures, there was no doubt of this angel’s allegiance…
“...This leads Aristotle in turn to the demonstrated fact that God, glory and majesty to Him, does not do things by direct contact. God burns things by means of fire; fire is moved by the motion of the sphere; the sphere is moved by means of a disembodied intellect, these intellects being the 'angels which are near to Him.” -- Guide of the Perplexed II:4, Maimonides.
This angels name would be Aviel. It means, “My father is God.” With Aviel’s creation, a severe message would be sent.
Under Zalrafal’s protection were the elders of the Multiverse. After the fall of Satan, the angels under God sought to wipe out the celestial ranks above man. For the angels believed it was man’s destiny to flourish over all and all greater beings should be silenced. Zalrafal expected God to intervene in the destruction of these races. Zalrafal was wrong. You see it was Gods will that these races die to make way for the coming of man. Without the knowledge of God and with the compassion of angels, Zalrafal was oblivious to this reasoning. He alone stood against the heavenly host. For his troubles, Zalrafal was made to shepherd the outcast. He was made master of the nonexistent.
This action was short lived however. It was never Gods intention for the elders to survive. It was never Gods intention for Zalrafal to grow in power. Unknown to Zalrafal was the true intent of divinity. All along, he willfully played right into the hands of the all-knowing God. Gathering the sinners led astray into one spot and allowing himself to become arrogant, spiteful and full of rage. This force of will was needed to accomplish such a large act, but now his job was done. To counter-act Zalrafal’s exploits, a new soldier angel was created in Aviel.
He was known as the Angel of Fear. A polar opposite thing must happen to combat the angel killer with the resolute willpower. Face to face, Zalrafal could possibly will any opposition to its end. Therefore his will must be broken. Fear must be instilled into the heart of the enemy. How do you put fear into a power so strong? Destroy what he cares for most. Destroy what he sought to protect with all the authority he could muster. Induce fear amongst his ranks. Fear begets terror. Terror begets paranoia. These are the things that cause civilizations to fall. This is the Fear of God. Aviel was the embodiment of this fear.
Fear of the Unknown - Blending
And therefore a message was sent, a warning to Zalrafal. It would be his last. Resting from one of his many excursions to Khazan, Zalrafal was visited by the angel Gabriel. “Hello Gabriel.” Zalrafal greeted, barely glancing in the direction of the mighty angel. “I see you wear your death robes this visit. Let me guess, I am an abomination, cease and desist, blah blah blah. Go home Gabriel. If the big man wants me, then he alone should stop me.” Gabriel lowers his head in contempt. “It ends here Zalrafal. Your time is nigh…” Zalrafal stands to his feet and goes face to face with the messenger of God. “How quickly you have forgotten your time with us? You cannot win here. I pity you.” Gabriel begins to fly away when Zalrafal calls out to him. “What no fight in you this time?” As suddenly as this was said did another man approach Zalrafal.
Zalrafal knew an angel when he saw one, but could not place the face. He greets the stranger by pulling out his sword. “What angel in the heavens do I not know? Are you Michael in disguise? Come then, tell me your name before I rip it from your tongue.” Aviel stops in his tracks. “Only my father is God!” he says. “Excuse me?" Zalrafal returns. "You do not need to exist to be made low, angel. A lesson will be learned amongst you fallen. I am that lesson. Prepare for reckoning." With a plethora of curses, Zalrafal lunges forward with sword in hand. A mighty swipe meets with the nonentity that was Aviel. What seemed like nothing however was the psychological nothing that encompasses pure emotion. In that instance and only for a brief few seconds did Zalrafal know fear. The one thing that temporarily hindered him was the unknown. Zalrafal knew all the faces in heaven and all their powers. What was this apparition that came and vanished like a spectre before him? Without hesitation Zalrafal prepared his world for war.
Seek naught Refuge - Mind Control
Aviel did not leave however. In actuality his essence, the essence of fear crept out of him. In that one brief lapse of will, Aviel entered a small portion of fear into the mind of Zalrafal. That portion would lay dormant until further notice. The rest of his core would venture out and seek minds less resistant. The spirit of fear spread and entered to every living man, woman and child under Zalrafal’s care. At once, the entirety of this realm began to fret over something in their lives.
Fear of Death - Decay
What started as fear became terror as one morning shortly after the mysterious visitor a strange thing occurred. The elders of the multiverses were aging rapidly. It was as if time were rushing to catch up with immortality. Congregations gathered to address Zalrafal as he aided his elders in their time of need. Nothing seemed to stop the rapid decay of the elders. They began to fear for their lives.
One of the greatest fears in creation is the fear of death and this fear was even greater amongst those who were chosen to be immortal. So Aviel gave them not death, but the fear of death. Never before had they known such terror as their bodies withered away. Fear begets terror. Zalrafal was powerless. Already stirred by fear into a state of readiness for war, most of the residents were agitated and confused. They began to fear for their own lives. If their chosen protector could not stop this, then what would become of them. Terror begets paranoia.
Traveling throughout the minds of the cast asides, Aviel attacked relentlessly. Seeking the weakest minds like a Lion, he hunted. Each seed of fear planted would spread into another and another and another. Eventually faith in Zalrafal began to wane. Riots broke out in the streets. Infighting began. Zalrafal went from hero and savior to scapegoat. The people blamed him for their despair. They burned down his worship grounds and made ruins of statues put up in his honor. You see this was not a physical battle, but a battle for the mind. There was no doubt that Zalrafal had become too powerful. So, this was a matter of breaking the will of an angel. Destroying what he worked hardest for. It took Zalrafal some time, but eventually he saw it.
“Go to the biters, to the reprobates, to the children of fornication, the offspring of the Watchers, from among men; bring them forth and excite them against one another. Let them perish under mutual slaughter; for length of days shall not be theirs.’ Enoch 10:13.”
This was told once before and still holds true. Although Zalrafal still lives, the seed of fear is still embedded deep within his psyche. Aviel lives as well and continues to hunt Zalrafal waiting on that distant time when his willpower would drop completely for an all out assault. Aviel now has become the Angel of Fear and all those who believe their will is greater than Gods will know him.
What are the benefits of fear? The main benefit is that it is a warning and self defense mechanism designed to keep you out of danger. If you have ever disturbed a procession of ants you would have noticed how they panic and run around trying to get away from the source of danger. This is because they do not want to be squashed. In this instance their fears could be what stop them from losing their lives. When a lion starts chasing a herd of buffalo you can see that the buffalo have definite reasons to be fearful. The ones that are not alert or fast enough are likely to get eaten. As Zalrafal wages his war against the heavens, the question becomes “who is the hunter?”
The Fear of Isolation
Years after the appearance of Aviel, Zalrafel struggled to recover his former glory to no avail. Alas it was too late. His people, panic stricken, bickered and created war amongst themselves. The Elders had festered away; too weak to even speak. The outcast cult of Zalrafel had expelled their former leader and his mighty house had finally fallen. Even though he walked in full physical strength his heart did not show it. Habitually, it is the case of the downtrodden to segregate their selves from society. Thus did Zalrafel. He no longer wanted to be a savior. He no longer wanted to be the shepherd of the outsider. He just wanted to be left alone. Unsure of the path he would now take, Zalrafel disappeared from awareness once again.
Oft times, we assume that people don't understand our particular problems. We think we are so unique and we are in many ways, yet we are all relatable to one another in one way or another. Aviel's influence and Zalrafel's own arrogance led him to believe he was alone in such a way. For this reason, he began to allow the fear that comes with isolation. When you fear the unknown, it's often tempting to isolate yourself. Consequently, lack of contact with people and love lead to feelings of content, sorrow and worst of all a lack of will. Aviel began to stir these things into the mind of his prey and his dormant seed of fear began to grow. It was the psychological battle of Fear vs. Will and in time a final confrontation must be had.
Posted 20 July 2009 - 05:41 AM
The one question I do have to ask is this: are you using Raya Sayang as an actual patron saint, a figurehead on the ship, or is she an actual character lurking in the shadows?
Posted 20 July 2009 - 07:08 AM
Posted 17 August 2009 - 06:04 AM
Alright, so the biggest problem I'm having is that I'm finding this very difficult to read. I keep starting, stopping, starting, stopping, and so forth. At this rate I'll never actually finish reading the thing, so I'll offer you what advice I've come up with so far.
Actors Guild of Khazan
First, I think there are horror undertones in it, but it's not particularly scary. I'm not sure how you'd fix this, so I'll tell you how I would; start from a place of normalcy instead of diving headfirst into the thing. I had a character named Dulane Truson, for example. His sheet started with him asking Seryph Gibbons for an autograph, and ended with him sticking his hands into a pair of buckets containing the blood of two strangers and enjoying the warmth of the sensation. The transition from sensible gentleman to simmering crazy was a slow one and the payoff was entirely bombastic, but it got peoples' attention and probably would've gotten somewhere if it weren't for some pesky VMing.
Second, I'm not liking any of the dialogue at all. This is a problem, because there's a lot of it. I kinda chuckled when I read "YOU TALK OF ORIGINALITY, YET YOU SPEAK IN TIRED CLICHES AND QOUTES" because it struck me as a self-aware jab at yourself. Thing is, when a good bulk of the sheet is of these people talking like that, it doesn't make me want to finish the thing. On top of that, a guy talking about how awesome he is isn't intrinsically awesome; the jerk's got to do something to prove it.
Third, your usage of simile in some places, uh, leaves something to be desired. For example....
His cohorts begin to explode in applause and dance wildly like some chaotic old time gospel revival.
The first one is not effective enough, and the second one is terrible. Like a sick movie villain? He IS a sick movie villain! Find other ways to describe these things besides straight-forward comparisons please?
The crimson-cloaked abductor approaches him like some sick movie villain...
I'll wait for some revisions before making further recommendations.
Posted 17 August 2009 - 06:15 PM
I kinda chuckled when I read "YOU TALK OF ORIGINALITY, YET YOU SPEAK IN TIRED CLICHES AND QOUTES" because it struck me as a self-aware jab at yourself.
Very good catch. Impressive. I'll definitely take everything into consideration.
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