My name is Kane Romeni. For those of you who know my name, congratulations, you read any paper in and around central Texas or, you poor, poor bastards, were affiliated with the people involved with or were somewhere around the area where I had my first supernatural freakout moment. They called me a terrorist and a murderer and they locked me away in a cell for a few years before me and another supernaturally empowered shit-stain (whom I later had the unique and singular pleasure of bursting his head apart at about 30 paces without any kind of weapon other than my own gifts- he deserved it, though, just trust me on that) and later was foiled in my attempts to get some petty vengeance on what, now that I've matured a little, realize was merely action taken by foolish people who were too scared and unbelieving to understand anything other than the fact that I was (and, I won't lie, I certainly was) a danger. But, hardened criminal blah blah blah later, here I am.
For those of you who aren't on a full name basis of me, you may know me as Kord. This was the name I gave myself on my first blog (which I now despise for its brevity, choppiness, lack of perspective and context, etc...), Deadly Chords. Just... read at your own risk. I'm greatly considering just rewriting the whole thing now that I've gotten a new angle on life.
Now if you don't know me on a full name basis or as Kord, don't know or haven't read my first blog, and don't know what the following words (Fear, Demigod, Daemon, Domain, Archive, Fury) have in common, then get out. Now.
No. Seriously. Leave. It's best you don't read any further.
...I'm waiting. Seriously... go.
...Okay if you've scrolled down this far either you are aware of what it's about and you're reading to get some insight on things going on, or there's no dissuading you, in which case, it's your funeral, you poor, poor, unfortunate bastards.
So, to bring some insight to certain newcomers who just won't understand that they're messing with powers that could literally give them fates that make death look like a cakewalk, (seriously, last chance) I guess I'll have to explain myself. [enters overly dramatic voice] In the beginning, there were... creatures... beings of unknown origin- mostly- and unknown motivation- again, mostly- things that enraptured and seemed to invoke certain forms of our greatest primal instincts and fears, and so they were aptly named such... Fears. How many are there? [end dramatic voice- I really can't do this shit] I dunno, I did some research, there's an undisclosed number that are alive and kicking, and an even larger number if you count the dead ones whose phantasms still echo to this day.
Alongside Fears are other beings from other realms- some hail from their own individual abodes, little circles of Hell that we unfortunately enlightened like to call Domains, and some hail from... other places. Some just walk right here, on good ole Earth. And, luckily, it mostly doesn't completely suck for most people. Generally Fears are very peculiar about this stuff. And, of course, there are Demi-Gods. Demi-Gods... there's a difficult way to put them. I'm friends with a number of Demi-Gods, as have I killed a number of Demi-Gods in my time. I'm a sort of quasi-Demi-God, having been granted a level of longevity and ability with a Fear- The Choir (put into layman's terms, if you ever wondered if reality is only an illusion and you, or you were afraid that what you said isn't what the other person's hearing, or even if someone's perception on what blue looks like is different than yours, that's what the little bugger inside of me likes to invoke, if it likes anything)- going around inside my veins. It's sentient, and it speaks to me, and it gives me abilities to manipulate aural and- when it goes full commando- visual stimuli. The Choir for some reason likes me and doesn't just erode me away with its fungal form.
But then there started coming a new batch of things, Daemons. See, kiddies, once upon a time, there was a Demi-God, actually really, really close to being on Fear levels of nightmarish, named The Bloody Biker. Put simply, a pretty overpowered cockbite with a bad attitude and his own little domain. This domain was called Bloody Hell- or at least it was when he controlled it. See, alongside the normal Fear and servants ish that happens in most domains, that one has its own little hierarchy in itself. Daemons. Scary, scary daemons.
And that's what I'm hunting now.
See, I've been off hunting things. I used to run with a group of... well, I guess they were colleagues but we were together for a while, and I honestly considered them, well, better friends than the people I met back in the joint, that's for sure. But Isaac O'Zalia, another Demi-God of sorts with a lot of mind-y mind powers of mind-ness, and his friends left after dealing with his own cousin's fanatical brigade of Fear-worshiping asshats, and I was left to my own devices.
What happened since then? I started hunting. See, it started with these servants of one Demi-God, some guy channeling a Dead Fear named The Tale Weaver? He apparently is a lazy bum who doesn't complete his grand schemes, but does enough damage that he's earned a place on my shit-list. I've dealt with a grand total of three of his Servants, and then other Demi-Gods and other creatures just start coming at you. Either they heard about the Nolla Row incident, or they were just getting antsy after I slaughtered a total of three of those little word jumbles of Weaver's, and they tried to take me down. Close encounters, all of them, but I've gotten a lot better at what I do, and they all ended up begging for their lives. I granted it to two of them, but a little piece of my own little piece of the Choir is in them, so every time they get out of line- heh heh heh- ohh, David Lynch would shake my hand from the stuff that I make them experience- but that's besides the point.
See, Demi-Gods are fine. Especially the rogue ones. Servants are all good, but The Archive and I have an uneasy truce so I don't go after them and they don't help me do shit. Even Fears in a localized manner (fellow Grayskins like yours truly, Nests of The Convocation, and Drones of The Intrusion) are... survivable... okay there are people who can put down Fears like it's no big deal but I'm not one of them. But Daemons... are another matter entirely. They represent things, too. I don't know how many groups of "unnatural entities representing things" actually exist, but Daemons are one of them. But they usually stay in Bloody Hell. Only a couple managed to worm their way out... or so I thought.
Then I saw a bloodbath. It was... once... a children's birthday party. I only heard word of it because of police band radio that I may or may not have been jacking into at the time. The police were traumatized by it, and so were the witnesses, the onlookers. Everyone who saw even a momentary glimpse of it were sent into some level of panic attack or shock and... I'll be honest, I still don't want to think about what it was. It was... it was something that even a Fear wouldn't think of. It was a party of flesh and viscera. Peoples' jaws were distended unnaturally out of their mouth, their lips morphed into twisted fleshless smiles. Some people had party horns made of their own respiratory organs. To say nothing of the cake... the presents... the everything else... I can only name a few things before throwing up from the memory of it. I don't want to fight it alone. I... I just can't. Nothing's hit me like this before. Even Fears have a limit, or they restrain themselves most of the time, but this... this was unhindered. This was unrestrained. This was... this was like some pseudo-Fear butchery. It seems to focus on humor, reveling, and enjoyment- in the most twisted, perverse way possible. I don't know what it does or why it does or how it made the... the party (never going to a birthday party again)... the way it was... but I'm afraid of it. I truly am. And I have the power to warp perceptions of reality, if used correctly I can be an adequate fucking tank, but this thing...
That's why I called this blog up. That's why I made this post and god-fucking dammit O'Zalia I already attached your account to this shit please help me I don't know what to do anymore, this is beyond anything that we've done before and I need help I really don't know what to do and I can't cope.
Right now the voices in my head that I like to call My Little Buddies are telling me to not sound so pathetic. So... yeah. O'Zalia, you're reading this and, excusing the... above... we need you. This is beyond my pay grade, I'm still barely on Class S Demigod level (uhm, there is no actual class ranking of Demigods, I'm just being a snide little bastard), I'm not on Representational Entity level. At least not alone. So... if you are reading this (and you are)... just... please... I don't know what to do other than... bringing the band back together again.
No comments:
Post a Comment