An Unholy Presence

Several things have plagued the Elder’s mind for quite some time now. So much had happened in such little time, he was… Evolving, when he wasn’t so sure he could, just a measly little year ago. Or two. Mere seconds in the grand scheme of things, but… These are important moments.

The invitation from Taker’s wife, however, that is something hard to believe. How could Host welcome such a disgusting, thieving creature into her fog?

Taker could use a little peace and quiet, after the recent months.

This intruder is slowly prying the Elder’s court apart. This will not stand.

Drache turns away, and immediately Taker’s gaze finds the note in his rival’s hands, snatching the paper away with a sneer, “You have mere hours left to live, parasite.” the words are spat at the dark Entity, acidic and full of rage. He wants so badly to destroy Drache right here and now, but he can’t disrupt Host’s event, lest he feel her wrath later.

Several things have plagued the Elder’s mind for quite some time now. So much had happened in such little time, he was… Evolving, when he wasn’t so sure he could, just a measly little year ago. Or two. Mere seconds in the grand scheme of things, but… These are important moments.

The invitation from Taker’s wife, however, that is something hard to believe. How could Host welcome such a disgusting, thieving creature into her fog?

Taker could use a little peace and quiet, after the recent months.

This intruder is slowly prying the Elder’s court apart. This will not stand.

Drache turns away, and immediately Taker’s gaze finds the note in his rival’s hands, snatching the paper away with a sneer, “You have mere hours left to live, parasite.” the words are spat at the dark Entity, acidic and full of rage. He wants so badly to destroy Drache right here and now, but he can’t disrupt Host’s event, lest he feel her wrath later.

Several things have plagued the Elder’s mind for quite some time now. So much had happened in such little time, he was… Evolving, when he wasn’t so sure he could, just a measly little year ago. Or two. Mere seconds in the grand scheme of things, but… These are important moments.

The invitation from Taker’s wife, however, that is something hard to believe. How could Host welcome such a disgusting, thieving creature into her fog?

Taker could use a little peace and quiet, after the recent months.

Several things have plagued the Elder’s mind for quite some time now. So much had happened in such little time, he was… Evolving, when he wasn’t so sure he could, just a measly little year ago. Or two. Mere seconds in the grand scheme of things, but… These are important moments.

The invitation from Taker’s wife, however, that is something hard to believe. How could Host welcome such a disgusting, thieving creature into her fog?

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[Send my character a ► and a command. They must obey: Accepting] @the-vile-entity

“I’m too tired for this bullshit. I don’t even know what this means”, he growled and pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to calm himself down. “Those fog walkers are becoming more and more frustrating, I swear.”

At first, a jab of hurt runs through his form, quickly snuffed out by a twisted, sadistic delight, “I am pleased to know you are aware of my control over you, my boy.” The Elder muses, his previously content expression overtaken by a slight frown, “Though, I do not appreciate a prayer being referred to as ‘stupid.”

Just as his last few words are spoken, a cloud of glowing cinders and smoke swirls from the ground behind the former Entity, shooting upward, then dissipating to reveal a very confused looking Bonny. Well, something that looks very much like the little cult leader. It’s not real, just an illusion masking the true creature hiding behind what the Bastard loves.

He does not even bother replying to Taker’s words, but when he feels a new presence behind him, he looks over his shoulder. Noticing Bonny, his lackadaisical approach was gone. It was visible from his face that he had not expected the elder to be able to take her from the private realm and into the castle. She was not Taker’s anymore, so why?

The creature posing as the Bastard’s little killer looks to the Elder, then to her- it’s- supposed ruler, “Bass, what’s going on?” The girl questions frantically, approaching the former god, “Where have you been? Why is he making us fight?” She seems so concerned, so scared, the illusion is convincing.

The being Taker sees is not the image of his own creation, but rather a grotesque mimic of the killer. No bandages cover the skinless, fleshy scars. They’re not even scars anymore, simply half her face has seemingly been peeled away, leaving nearly half of it’s face stained darker than the rest. The gaping hole where an eye should be is a void, the other eye all black, bleeding liquid darkness.

[Send my character a ► and a command. They must obey: Accepting] @the-vile-entity

“I’m too tired for this bullshit. I don’t even know what this means”, he growled and pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to calm himself down. “Those fog walkers are becoming more and more frustrating, I swear.”

At first, a jab of hurt runs through his form, quickly snuffed out by a twisted, sadistic delight, “I am pleased to know you are aware of my control over you, my boy.” The Elder muses, his previously content expression overtaken by a slight frown, “Though, I do not appreciate a prayer being referred to as ‘stupid.”

Just as his last few words are spoken, a cloud of glowing cinders and smoke swirls from the ground behind the former Entity, shooting upward, then dissipating to reveal a very confused looking Bonny. Well, something that looks very much like the little cult leader. It’s not real, just an illusion masking the true creature hiding behind what the Bastard loves.

The twins chitter at one another, eyes locked onto their target. The Bastard has spoken to them, something that they had expected- but not so soon. It’s certainly interesting to the creatures, as they can smell the urge to fight seeping from his scars. The more violent of the two wishes to reopen some of those former wounds, but the unseeable glare from it’s God prevents that.

One of the twins gets closer, bearing it’s teeth at the young God in a wicked, grin-like snarl. Then, in unison, all three of them speak as one.

“Hhhhow loathsome you are, believing you still have the right to the girl’s compassion.” All of their voices are different, yet the same. Gurgling and hoarse, gritty, echoed and reverberating within the Bastard’s head, as well as off the trees surrounding them, “Aaaafter what you’ve done, you still believe you are loveable.”

It’s quite obvious this is not Taker’s message, but their own. It’s what they do, after all. Feeding off emotions and flesh alike, similarly to the Entity that created them.

Then, the outward vibe of one of the twins shifts, another demented howl is released into the forest as it charges at the Bastard, lunging at him. After that, the smaller pair cackle like hyenas, layered on top of distant screams.

The approach of the creature was met with a grimace, as the Bastard did not want it anywhere near himself. He would not tell it to step away or to keep distance, of course, but he would not prevent himself from showing the dissatisfaction either. He had done nothing wrong, so their company was not needed. It was also too early, to remind him of the rules either. But of course, they had to mention Sam. As if he would isolate himself from all of the mortals just because Taker was unhappy.

“I do not seek her love. I know what I am, and I know who her heart belongs to.” The Bastard tried his hardest to remain calm, the three creatures already irritating him. For once, he just wanted peace. Deserved it even.

The warning howl was enough for the Bastard to focus on the charging creature. He jumped out of the way, dodging the attack, but pulling a wound open in the process. Pain coursed through his body, blood seeped into the fresh bandage, and he remained on the ground, not able to stand up, let alone lift himself to a kneeling position.

Pinprick red eyes bore into the Bastard’s soul, the twins are stalking closer. Until the largest of the three roars, spooking them to back away. Finally, it can be seen. The leader of this group stands much taller than the others, tattered wrappings cling to it’s body. It has antlers, and a mane- similarly to that of a horse. It growls lowly, voice gurgling. The twins bow their heads, backing away.

The leader had just been scolding them.

Creatures with purpose dwelled within the forest, having crawled down from the Castle grounds where they lived. Their God had given them a task, and they intended to complete it. The largest has eyes on a particular young former Entity, small red dots that glowed in the darkness should have alerted the Bastard to the presence of something wicked.

But there’s not just one, there’s three of them. All communicating with one another, almost silently. 

They’ve been watching him for a good while now, from the shadows, from the corner of his eye. They needed a chance for him to be alone, though as the redhead who’d formerly accompanied him was a possible distraction. She could have been harmed if she were to get in the way of the order, so it was best for them to wait.

Now, though, the young God is alone, and it doesn’t matter where he is going. All that matters is he is such easy pickings, it’s a shame they were told not to kill him.

One of the smaller creatures lets out a long, almost elk-like howl. A deep, gritty cry that echoes off the trees. It’s twin does the same, hollering in return to the call. The leader does not respond, as it will reveal itself later.

The twins circle the Bastard, little red eyes flickering as they pass behind the trees. Baiting the young Entity into a response, as there is very little chance he will be successful in running away. Not with the leader constantly lurking behind him. 

Each of the twins are visible. Their skin is dry and dark, the color of rotting flesh but lacking the lively shine of blood. Patches had clearly fallen off, as lines of scars span their bodies, all still held together with withering stitches. Somehow, their teeth still remain mostly intact, only a slight yellowing, yet their twisted maws are stained crimson. The worst trait about them has to be the vaguely human-shaped form, aside from their skulls. Man and beast, crudely made into one.

It was not long after he entered the woods, that he heard the cry of the two monstrosities. They had not managed to scare him, but the call did force him to stop and observe the circling creatures. If Taker wanted them to attack him, they would’ve done so already. What he had to do was to remain calm and not let his inner need for a fight appear. He was in no shape for it and even in a good state, he would’ve lost. Especially when the larger of the three was behind him. He could feel its eyes digging into his back.

One of the twins gets closer, bearing it’s teeth at the young God in a wicked, grin-like snarl. Then, in unison, all three of them speak as one.

“Hhhhow loathsome you are, believing you still have the right to the girl’s compassion.” All of their voices are different, yet the same. Gurgling and hoarse, gritty, echoed and reverberating within the Bastard’s head, as well as off the trees surrounding them, “Aaaafter what you’ve done, you still believe you are loveable.” 

It’s quite obvious this is not Taker’s message, but their own. It’s what they do, after all. Feeding off emotions and flesh alike, similarly to the Entity that created them.

Creatures with purpose dwelled within the forest, having crawled down from the Castle grounds where they lived. Their God had given them a task, and they intended to complete it. The largest has eyes on a particular young former Entity, small red dots that glowed in the darkness should have alerted the Bastard to the presence of something wicked.

But there’s not just one, there’s three of them. All communicating with one another, almost silently. 

They’ve been watching him for a good while now, from the shadows, from the corner of his eye. They needed a chance for him to be alone, though as the redhead who’d formerly accompanied him was a possible distraction. She could have been harmed if she were to get in the way of the order, so it was best for them to wait.

Now, though, the young God is alone, and it doesn’t matter where he is going. All that matters is he is such easy pickings, it’s a shame they were told not to kill him.

One of the smaller creatures lets out a long, almost elk-like howl. A deep, gritty cry that echoes off the trees. It’s twin does the same, hollering in return to the call. The leader does not respond, as it will reveal itself later.

The twins circle the Bastard, little red eyes flickering as they pass behind the trees. Baiting the young Entity into a response, as there is very little chance he will be successful in running away. Not with the leader constantly lurking behind him. 

Each of the twins are visible. Their skin is dry and dark, the color of rotting flesh but lacking the lively shine of blood. Patches had clearly fallen off, as lines of scars span their bodies, all still held together with withering stitches. Somehow, their teeth still remain mostly intact, only a slight yellowing, yet their twisted maws are stained crimson. The worst trait about them has to be the vaguely human-shaped form, aside from their skulls. Man and beast, crudely made into one.

His grip is still tight, continuing the pressure on the damaged limb, crushing it even more.

“Do you not understand? You are a God, boy. To feel so attacked by the concepts of a mortal is beneath you. You should know the Ghostface has no true power to take anything from you. Let him believe whatever he wants, for it will not affect you.”

The Elder knows his words will possibly be interpreted in the entirely wrong way, so he continues with clarification, “You have aligned yourself with these mortals, so much so you have begun to think like them. You feel as if you must constantly remind them who you are. It is a fools game that you play, boy. And you will never grow until you rise above.” 

But he doesn’t deserve to rise. Taker knows this. And he forms a plan within his mind, saved for when this punishment is over.

The Elder lets the young one drop to the floor once more, observing his kin’s actions.

“You have forgotten why you exist. We, as Entities, live to rule and consume the emotions of mortals all around us. Their pain and suffering is our life, and without it, our death.” 

He looms over the Bastard, grabbing his chin to force those golden eyes to meet flaming orange, “You have forgotten our law. Never punish a soul which isn’t yours, and do not dare even think of consuming one that isn’t yours.” 

Bursting from the ground, a claw pierces the young Entity in the chest, hauling him up to hang in the air, stuck in the center of the room, “You nearly did. If I had not stopped you, I would have lost one of my most loyal killers. Do you know what I would have had to do, should you have consumed him?”

The two gods are now eye-to-eye, the Elder had healed the young one’s vision just so he can see the fear in those golden irises. “I would have been forced to do the same to you. And I would not have enjoyed it. Your behavior has forced my hand. You say the Ghostface is uncontrolled, but it is simply you who has been left unchecked.” 

Once more he was left kneeling before the god, this time with no chance to attack the elder. One arm had torn muscles, the other hanging by skin alone, surprisingly not severed where the bone was shattered, and muscles ripped. He could have attempted to bite into Taker, but even he understood when something was futile. The Bastard had lost, there was nothing else he could do. Not even run.

“I am not afraid of your piece of trash killer taking her”, he coughed out through the pain. “It’s you- I don’t want stealing from me.”

The young one was aware of the purpose which the mortals served. Nobody had said that he could not force the emotions out of them. Especially the ones which he found most pleasing. Nobody apart from Taker. Him and his boring self-created rules. Ones he did not inform the Bastard of until the moment that the young one broke them. Punished for something he could not know he was doing. There was some irony in that.

Just like there was in him being hanged like a piece of meat. Like a simple survivor for sacrifice. And when he was torn away from the claw, he screamed, feeling more of his shell break away. It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep his form together, his true self wanting to leave, but not being able to due to the possibility of being consumed. Like a victim stuck within a burning building, whilst outside there awaited a bigger threat.

There was no fear in his eyes regardless of this. They were blown from the amount of pain he had been subjected to, wide and bloodshot, where the black partially returned to white. He tried to avoid holding onto eye contact, but it felt impossible. He also needed to see what the other was about to do, not wanting anything else to come as a surprise after his sight was returned.

The need for defense took place of the offensive approach and the Bastard took the last option he had. Feeling the strong palm choke him, as Taker effortlessly held him up by his throat, he needed to free himself of the grip. But even then, he could no longer use his arms, and he could barely speak with how his throat was clenched.

The pleading from his younger kin did make him feel a certain level of hurt. He’d seen the Bastard as some sort of offspring, one he could guide to a better, powerful life as an Entity. With that, came a personal responsibility, and a feeling of failure. Taker rarely fails, but with this? 

It is one of his most powerful emotions. 

With a sigh, the Vile one turns to approach the balcony, stepping one leg up onto the railings, holding his fellow God over the edge, from the highest point in the castle.

“I have decided, since you feel such a need to be so intimately involved with your mortals.” He pauses, outstretching his arm further, “Then you should have no issue joining them.” 

As soon as he says his last word, Taker puts his free hand to the Bastard’s chest, ripping the power from him, it all forms into a large orb of golden light, swirling around within it’s confinement. The Elder’s power keeps it from all dissipating, a thin layer of deep orange flares surround the young God’s energy.

He casts one last look to his fellow Entity, eyes not burning as hot as they were before. This is what will be best for them all. Best for the Bastard. He must learn, and to do that, he must suffer. A crash course on the importance of godhood. The only way to understand, is to be knocked down to the level of those you rule. He will appreciate his role in the universe, with time. For now, though, he will walk among them as another mortal.

“I did not want to do this.” Taker says, “But I will be watching.” 

With that, he lets go. Letting his younger kin fall, all the way down to the ground of the Castle realm, and then some. He falls through it, down back to one of the unlit camps. The Elder turns his back, returning to another pressing matter.

This won’t last forever, just until the young one learns his true place. During that time, the golden power is sealed away, safe, deep within the Castle. No one will take this from him, not truly.

His grip is still tight, continuing the pressure on the damaged limb, crushing it even more.

“Do you not understand? You are a God, boy. To feel so attacked by the concepts of a mortal is beneath you. You should know the Ghostface has no true power to take anything from you. Let him believe whatever he wants, for it will not affect you.”

The Elder knows his words will possibly be interpreted in the entirely wrong way, so he continues with clarification, “You have aligned yourself with these mortals, so much so you have begun to think like them. You feel as if you must constantly remind them who you are. It is a fools game that you play, boy. And you will never grow until you rise above.” 

But he doesn’t deserve to rise. Taker knows this. And he forms a plan within his mind, saved for when this punishment is over.

The Elder lets the young one drop to the floor once more, observing his kin’s actions.

“You have forgotten why you exist. We, as Entities, live to rule and consume the emotions of mortals all around us. Their pain and suffering is our life, and without it, our death.” 

He looms over the Bastard, grabbing his chin to force those golden eyes to meet flaming orange, “You have forgotten our law. Never punish a soul which isn’t yours, and do not dare even think of consuming one that isn’t yours.” 

Bursting from the ground, a claw pierces the young Entity in the chest, hauling him up to hang in the air, stuck in the center of the room, “You nearly did. If I had not stopped you, I would have lost one of my most loyal killers. Do you know what I would have had to do, should you have consumed him?”

The two gods are now eye-to-eye, the Elder had healed the young one’s vision just so he can see the fear in those golden irises. “I would have been forced to do the same to you. And I would not have enjoyed it. Your behavior has forced my hand. You say the Ghostface is uncontrolled, but it is simply you who has been left unchecked.” 

The Elder is livid. Infuriated beyond words as he watched the fool of a young God punish a morsel that did not belong to him, and for an event that never even took place in this reality. Unjust vengeance, an act of complete disrespect and a vile display of the utter weakness that the Bastard possessed. To maim the Ghostface for what occurred within his own sick mind, it set Taker’s anger ablaze.

The Vile Entity could have intervened at any moment, yet he chose to let his rage fester into something near uncontrollable. With each scream, a new claw mark appeared on the dark brimstone walls of the throne room, even he couldn’t contain his emotions, which was irritating in and of itself.

Finally, though, he’d had enough. He did feel a mild streak of responsibility, and by extension, guilt, over letting his killer be harmed in such a way, for an action he never made. The Ghostface was rightfully confused, and possibly just as livid as his Entity.

The Bastard was ripped from the communal grounds of the Fog, and instantly met with a roar of rage, the Elder slipping into his true tongue as he spoke, “You ḑ̸̰͇̳̗̀̋̕͜a̷̲̋r̴̢͕̠̙̲̖̀ḛ̴͖̎̈́̅͜͜ ̷͍̖̍̇̉̽́͐defy me, boy?!” He towers over his younger kin, eyes burning with rage, the marks on his forehead glowing. Taker too had cracks lining his face, struggling to control the inner form within. Maintaining a level of controlled dominance was essential now, “You have no right to mutilate my killer in the name of meaningless revenge. Spoiled, foolish b̶̭͋̔r̸̮͒͑a̵̢͊t̴̺̝͑.”

Taker heals the wounds on the Bastard’s face, only with the intent to harm him much worse than Samantha did. Oh, he was impressed with the girl when she stabbed the young God. Sadly, anger overrode it.

Fear was quickly replaced by rage at the sight of the god responsible for his loss of mortal. However, before he could pounce, the clarity of mind hit him and with it came the realization of his mistakes. Perhaps the reason behind it was the closeness of the stronger entity, perhaps the other had cleared his mind of the overwhelming fog. Regardless, the Bastard rapidly understood his mistake. There was no true reason for attacking the killer and for his own stupidity, he would face a punishment dealt by the enraged elder.

Stupidly, he had decided to stand his ground regardless. There were other sins committed by the killer. Ones that still were equally pesky as the others. Taker could not expect the younger to simply take that and ignore what occurred to him. Frustration boiled at being constantly observed and corrected by others. At being threatened to be killed for simply stating his needs and for attempting to force the mortals to notice him as a god and to listen to his commands. He was equally important to others. He would not be treated in such a way.

And, as far as Taker recalled. The Young god started this war first. He’d have been wiser to simply feed off of all the emotions ebbing off the redhead when she and the killer were together. Just as The Elder did with his Ghostface.

In one swift motion, he grabs the Bastard’s head and throws him across the room, the young gods back leaving a small, cracking dent in the wall, “You d̴̜̯̃̿a̸̯͐ṟ̶͚̌̒ȇ̴̲ raise your voice at me!?” He questions first, stomping closer to his kin, “We both know you were the petty fool who started that war. You felt threatened by the words of a mortal who didn’t even belong to you, and you retaliated. You cast the first stone!”

A large hand grabs the Bastard’s throat, “Have you forgotten? You have punished my mortal on more than one occasion. I was a fool to let you believe you had the right, so now I correct that.” 

An Entity claw bursts from the wall, piercing the young Entity in the opposite shoulder before he is thrown down again.

“You didn’t even tell them why you did it. Why? Because you knew exacting some meaningless revenge over an event that never took place would let them know just how weak you really are.”

By the front of his shirt, Taker pulls his kin back up to his feet, marching forward quickly to smash the Bastard’s back into the wall again, “You constantly prove time and time again, you know nothing of being a true God.”

The Elder is livid. Infuriated beyond words as he watched the fool of a young God punish a morsel that did not belong to him, and for an event that never even took place in this reality. Unjust vengeance, an act of complete disrespect and a vile display of the utter weakness that the Bastard possessed. To maim the Ghostface for what occurred within his own sick mind, it set Taker’s anger ablaze.

The Vile Entity could have intervened at any moment, yet he chose to let his rage fester into something near uncontrollable. With each scream, a new claw mark appeared on the dark brimstone walls of the throne room, even he couldn’t contain his emotions, which was irritating in and of itself.

Finally, though, he’d had enough. He did feel a mild streak of responsibility, and by extension, guilt, over letting his killer be harmed in such a way, for an action he never made. The Ghostface was rightfully confused, and possibly just as livid as his Entity.

The Bastard was ripped from the communal grounds of the Fog, and instantly met with a roar of rage, the Elder slipping into his true tongue as he spoke, “You ḑ̸̰͇̳̗̀̋̕͜a̷̲̋r̴̢͕̠̙̲̖̀ḛ̴͖̎̈́̅͜͜ ̷͍̖̍̇̉̽́͐defy me, boy?!” He towers over his younger kin, eyes burning with rage, the marks on his forehead glowing. Taker too had cracks lining his face, struggling to control the inner form within. Maintaining a level of controlled dominance was essential now, “You have no right to mutilate my killer in the name of meaningless revenge. Spoiled, foolish b̶̭͋̔r̸̮͒͑a̵̢͊t̴̺̝͑.”

Taker heals the wounds on the Bastard’s face, only with the intent to harm him much worse than Samantha did. Oh, he was impressed with the girl when she stabbed the young God. Sadly, anger overrode it.