Legend

**king**

Darkness fell across the crisp night sky like freshly spilled ink, drowning out the fleeting sun. The streetlamps hummed with energy almost on cue, bathing the cobbled road in ochre light.

Footsteps. Faint at first yet growing dangerously more prominent, pounding the pavement with unwavering rhythm. Rain began to fall as if the heavens themselves were crying at the sight of him.

From the shadows he made his way into the open street, the raindrops bouncing up off the concrete below and crashing back down onto the tops of his heavy leather boots, unblemished, pristine.

She had called to him. As her world fell apart once more, as her heart lay shattered in light of endless torment, he felt her soul cry out, to the one man who had always known her better than she knew herself.

So many wrongs to put right, his mind had wandered so far from the path, over the brink… yet his faith remained untarnished…

Machiavellian in his virtues he had escaped this insanity once before, and now the very mind which struggled free from the bondage of madness had led him back to the world he vowed never to enter again… this world…

The players have changed, yet the game remains the same as ever. The same ego’s… the same treachery… the same bureaucracy… it stung his senses with every breath he took.

Those week of mind and will had changed allegiances with as much ease as the sun sets, new contenders grasped for a seat of power that existed nowhere but in their own minds. Such fools… leave them be.

Long gone were the days in which such neanderthalism clouded his judgement. Long gone were the days in which the drive to prove his worth was an albatross on his soul. Long gone were the days of gesticulating, of mindless violence and needless conflict, of pride, of anger, of hatred, vanity and a lust for power…

Now… there was her. Only her.

And the cause.

There will always be the cause.

**king**

((Just as a quick side note, anyone who feels they are able to RP their way into this thread, please feel free to do so. It may not be the easiest thing to slip into right now, but I will be keeping this story going here - so jump in at any time))

**king** · 03/23/2006 04:11:59

Amusing, isn't it?

How fickle and churlish the imputent minds which occupy this reality truely are...

These followers of the Antichrist, with their misplaced faith in their fallen saviour's quest for what he called freedom. Freedom into to bondage of a cold, unforgiving and conflicted society. A society in turmoil as they claw and scratch their way into nothingness - clambouring for a grasp on power, the lies flowing effortlessly off their wicked tongues, soothing their consciences against the travesties they have commited.

The Awakened.

Ironic, perhaps, that they are more blinded to the truth than any among us. Our Eden, our sanctuary, our hope - that was how it was intended, that is how it shall be. Once more into the peaceful sleep.

E Pluribus Neo. Mindless sheep to a child. Nothing more than a boy, swept away from his brush with a man whom he blindly idolised, a man who spared him no second thought, no second glance - yet he so foolishly has convinced himself and the weak minded imbeciles who surround him that he carries the faux-saviours mission. Such children should not interject themselves into the affairs of men.

And what of the turncoats? Watch how they scurry back in the wake of recent events. Watch as they paint themselves blue with their words, the blood of our comrades still fresh on their hands - and yet they speak of the Cause.

The Masked Agenda, reborn. 'Tis the season to rise from the grave it seems... yet what motives lie behind this predictable turn of events? Old scores? Old loves? Or perhaps blue is in fashion this season. Such fickle alliances by fickle men are never meant to last. The Agenda was put to rest with reason, and for that very reason it will no doubt dwindle again.

As for its figurehead? The public face of this reignited path? So lost without purpose, so blind to the fact that while sitting at the head of the Agenda's table, in days gone by he was never its driving force. Some strings are easier to pull than others.

The Blue Order. One true path, one true cause. I stand alongside them proud to have found those with the pure and noble intentions of true Cypherites, those who deserve to wear their masks with pride.

Where do we go from here?

Only time will tell.

Message Edited by kingcaw on 03-23-200612:11 PM

DarkMagician · 03/23/2006 07:10:45

::It seems to be raining again in Mega City,the downpour covering all the noises that your not supposed to hear. The constant traffic, making one face blur into another, always indistinct; and always it could be someone you know.::

"King......"

*You look around only to see the shadow of man in a doorway to a smallbook store, the lights behind him making his figure look indefined but his voice is oh so familiar*

*I take a step out the light shifting a moment so you can see my face and its one you reconize as well*

"DM?........"
"Hello King, its been a while, we have a lot to discuss"

((Hope you don't mind me jumping in on this King))

Message Edited by ElecTech on 03-23-200607:10 AM

Cystil-MxO · 03/24/2006 04:30:27

((Good to have you back King. Don't reply to this one if you're busy with Magicians.))

Dreadkus was standing by the waterfront with a lit cigarette in his fingers. It slowly puffed and the smoke rose to the atmosphere. His forefinger rubbed his bottom lip, It was sore. He was content for a while, in a short moment. He took a deep drag on the cigarette, and looked upward whilst exhaling the smoke, the smoke trailing yet again upward and into the atmosphere. He continued to look upward. The grey green sky had stagnated. It was usual, but this looked ugly. It was almost like a green cloud was near enough to come down and whisk him up; and some of the green musk of air had made the wharf stink - either becaue his nose was risen into the air and it was more sensitive this way, or because the green musk actually was coming to whisk him up.

Bathary was usually nice at this time of evening. He pretended he didn't know what made the stink. He knew it was code. He was tired. He took another drag on the cigarette.

A beam of light suddenly peirced the sky and shone into Dreadkus' deep red lenses, making him flip the cigarette in his fingers and drop it on his trouser leg. He swore as he exhaled; whilst the cigarette burnt through a small section of his pants. He looked at the sky, whilst his trousers smouldered. He couldn't feel pain. For yet again he was content in a small moment.

The air felt different and soft. The ray was now culminating and allowing the cloud to move apart, the refraction of the sun revealing a pink sky above. Sati would have been proud of this herself.

He bent down and removed the cigarette from the hole in his pants and threw it to the fishes. He sowre again when he realised that everything had suddenly become visable, and that the green mist had almost dissapated immediatley. Then he smiled.

He was interupted again by a small beguiling twitch and a few bleeps from his pocket. A phone call was making it's way to him. He placed his hand slowly into his pocket and felt the smooth exterior of the phone with his hard figertips, callous and round, before removing the phone and flicking it open, to answer the call.

He spoke with a soft purr.
"Yess?"
"Our King is back, My dear." Her voice was pure alcohol, abrasive but smooth and intoxicating. It was almost like the alcohol had been lit... she was excited.

"I understand. Well done."

"Well, we're just lucky. Operatives will remember... and fear... Well that's not our intention for right now. They'll remember him for sure."

There was a slight pause. He stood still and looked at the sky. He still couldn't believe what was happening. Did Megacity plan this in accordance to a glamerous return?. Dreadkus tightened his lips and spoke quietly.

"Could you put me through? I would very much like to speak with my fellow."

Another pause. This time it was more detrimental and patronising.. but her voice narrow and echoing meant that he could tell she was hiding something.

"He's busy. You'll see him."

"I see my lady. Perhaps you could put me throu.."
Dreadkus was cut short. The call had ended, but that was not what cut him short. The lightest of touch was felt on his right shoulder. The slightest of whisper was heard in his right ear. Yet when Dreadkus turned, there was nothing.

The sky had opened up so rain could pour down.

Message Edited by Dreadkus on 03-24-200604:30 AM