fortuneblessed

Another kill. Another death to satisfy the ever incessant voices ringing throughout his mind. Would they ever stop permanently? It was a question yet to be answered, and possibly will remain unresolved. For now, they were quiet as he watched the blood drip down his dagger and onto the wooden planks. The sight of his most resent victim sprawled out like a gutted fish was truly something to behold. If he had been more creative with his kills, perhaps such a metaphor could have become reality. 

Alas, his work still seemed to have attracted an onlooker. One he had been quite familiar with. Getting up from his hunched from, he turned to face his audience. It was quite surprising that they could have made him out within such the thick mist, but locals tended to adapt to the weather fairly quickly. He doubted the man would have the gall to turn tail and make an effort to report him, but it was never a bad thing to be overly paranoid. The glowing card within their hand was noted, but not commented on. 

“If I didn’t know better I’d assume you’re tryin’ to flirt with me, card dealer. Why are ya here, knowin’ this is where the sharks roam for food?” 

life in Bilgewater was one of various nuanced sides & double - double crosses. indeed , the alliance of Sarah Fortune was no different. he tips his hat as he sees her approaching , an amicable glow to the shine in his eye ( just barely present under that brim ). despite that , there is a weariness to his movements , perhaps practiced unconscious actions that come with living as a cardshark ( such as the way his boots wrinkle in the way or the way he shifts his weight to his toes , maybe the way his hand rests just above the pocketed cards on his hip ).

most would say that to pick upon the resident Bilgewater reaper’s BAD SIDE would be a mistake. normally , Tobias would be one of those people , but he felt quite a bit lucky today having picked up a good winning from the card table ( of course with some help of quick hands & trickery ) & now was following the whims of a rather pricey barter with a drunkard he came across at the bar. so he had meandered his way to the usual haunts of the BLOODHARBOUR RIPPER , currently watching the other man with a raised brow , an amused expression upon that sharp face. the low - light of the gas lamps barely cut through the ever - present mist of the docks , the scent of sea - salt & caught - fish hanging heavy in the air. a card is played within thin fingers , his voice carrying easily over the evening sounds of rowdy seamen.

“I would not recommend that, but I shall keep you company so you do not harm yourself.”

he chuckles, those knuckles moving to run along his arm as he raises a brow, a glimmer of mischief in his eye.

THE ACT HAD ALREADY BEGUN. the bells ringed in the rhythm of a slow dance , a celebration , an omen. SILENT OMEN RISES FROM THE BLOODIED GROUNDS , a red oak stood there proudly and from it’s branches hanged the tokens of the demon’s wickedness. COUNTLESS CORPSES TIED WITH CRIMSON BOUNDS BY THE NECK , still dripping dead blood and still being kicked by the wind - they accompanied the macabre dance of the MASKED.

but it had been interrupted. the bells stopped abruptly. shaco turned around with a graceful twirl and a fan placed beneath his eyes.

‘ do you THINK? or do you BELIEVE? or do you KNOW? that we have similar goals ,oracle? ‘ the creature hummed with a cant of the head , the finely ornamented fan tapping against his pristine visage. ‘ what do you know of my goal? do you believe i have one? look in front of you! ‘

a lithe arm raised , digits holding a closed fan , to gesture at the oak of the HANGED. the corpses shuddered violently with the breeze as if angered that their dance with their butcher had been interrupted. the mask cracks and tears , a cacophony of bones being broken , the everlasting smile etched upon his features becomes a vicious grin.

‘ i wish to NEVER be bored! ‘ silvery strands grow a little darker under the red moon. ‘ thus why i cannot become a SLAVE of your cult. and so , what will you do about it? ‘

whispers from the crimson oak awakened akin butterflies taking flight with bloody wings - the masked demon laughed. a low ringing of bells.

what will you do now?

THIS IS CHAOS. with every movement, every glance of those empty mask eyes send a shudder through the cultmaster’s limbs, dipped into the cool water of the manic craze that this demon seems to carry with that chilling laugh, with the cold breeze that shakes the crooked fruit of that crooked tree. those eyes shift, subtly, to look upon those corpses, upon their mangled cadavers that seem to grimace eerily upon him. the cardmaster hums, a low noise as he peers once at the jester, who held a gaudy fan in hand. 

his arns move, his own fan of cards in hand as he lifts them, letting but a bit of that DEMONIC DEMENTIA seep into the recesses of his mind . . . for to know a demon is to be a demon. those cards move a dance in the air, lifting from the pale hand of their owner. the masked man breathes, a deep gust that seems to shiver through the cards. his voice returns, the inflection one of GRINNING MANIA, an echo, a mirror of what the jester threw at him. 

&&. “ think, believe, know ? what i want doesn’t really matter in the end, does it ? after all, all ya’ seek ENTERTAINMENT, isn’t that right ? ”

the cards glow before moving to float in front of the hooded man, one specific card raising to reveal THE FOOL, a depiction of a jester with a frenzied face that danced hysterically in front of a hanging tree. the cardmaster taps a finger upon a sleeved arm, his head tilted towards the card.

“the best kind of mess”

&&. “ of course, we couldn’t have it any other way, right, lady Evelynn ? ”

“I think that may be a fever.”

The Spearfisher had just recently washed off was blood and flesh from his previous hunt, almost passing right by the card as he reclothed himself. Unfortunately, the contrasting color easily caught his attention. At first, he had assumed the calling card had been for his master. Yet, it had been placed onto his clothes. With a rough sigh, he left the dorms and headed for the altar, knocking before entering with a bow. “Ya needed me, Oracle?” His voice hiding the fear that was slowly gnawing at the back of his mind.

sharp, crisp movements, accentuated by the hum & thrum of cards moving through the air, the masked man ( demon ? ) hand’s moving one in through his fingers, glancing over to the demon as he enters the darkened space, lit by candlelight & flooded by the light of the moon from the various windows. a low chuckle, a noise that echoes across that shadow-dressed room as he steps down from the altar, moving closer to the demon & lifting a wiry hand to lower the mask, revealing his grin, those glowing blue eyes AMUSED. he raises a brow, white locks of hair shifting as he tilts his head.