Topic: Strange New World?

Murrel · Date: 2017-05-05 20:01 EST

PostPosted: 05 May 2017 06:21 Post subject: Strange New World Reply with quote Edit/Delete this post Delete this post I just got done with my last visit to Earth, decided to stop at a sort of cosmological crossroad called, "Rhydin." Quirky place, to say the least; a very diverse crowd of folks, ranging from bipedal bulls to adult-aged moody goth-kids. It's strange because I've never been here before, yet several people, each from very different worlds, seemed to know who I was. I guess it's no surprise, really: I mean, I am pretty ****ing awesome. But most of my adoring fans tend to get tongue-tied when they finally meet me in person; these folks seemed to address me with a certain amount of familiarity. Maybe that's just Rhydinian culture; I'm not really too certain.

There was one lady though, in particular, who actually freaked the living hell out of me: a spooky little green-haired fae. She was actually kinda spooky-sexy, if that makes sense. At first I was stoked that she was approaching me, but then she starts going into how she and I were supposed to have been committed lovers at some point. Talk about a cuckoo. I'd never seen this lady in my life! But it gets worse: it turns out, she knows about Demoxen. How in the hell she even knew that name is beyond me, but it was nerve-racking to hear here mention it. I started questioning her, didn't really get the sense that she was a danger to me or anything, but I let her know that there'd be hell to pay if I caught her sniffing around my business again.

Oddly enough, I can't seem to shake this feeling like she understood me. She had a strange necklace too, something that I couldn't take my eyes off of. I don't know if it has some kind of messed up enchantment about it or something, but it was scary how familiar it seemed; like something from a dream. Hell, I dunno, maybe I'm just tired from travel and having fits of deja vu. I can't help but wonder if I'll cross paths with that girl again though.

I think I'm going to settle here for a week or so before returning to Vendaria. I'm in no rush to deal with a bunch of psycho holy knights.

Murrel · Date: 2017-05-06 01:51 EST

https://www.youtube.com/watch"v=cB-ur_x-1Hg -

Some are easier to break than others. I can generally get a slew of followers within a single sentence. I'm that ****ing good. But every once in awhile, I get these cocky-ass, stubborn zealots who refuse to understand the reality that I have made for them.

"You're just a stupid preacher. You'll never get me to talk."

That's what he actually said. I clapped my hands together a few times, just to relish in the humor of it all. Finally, I pulled my most dead-eyed stare into his eyes. They're frighteningly powerful things, my eyes: they can effectively express anything from genuine concern to eternal torment.

"Well....you SAY that..." I threw in with a soft chuckle, mocking his conviction.

"No. My faith is strong. My God will prevent you. I know this." His eyes were cold, but I've seen colder eyes before. It was his posture that bugged me. Now I knew I had a challenge.

I didn't want to continue to mock him, though. I tilted my head with a grin, "Tell me: have you ever heard a singer by the moniker of, 'Tom Jones'?"

The man shook his head, not in denial of the question, but in personal defeat. His spirit was almost broken. I could feel it. It wouldn't take much more.

But in for a penny, in for a pound, right"

My grin grew wider. I found his weak point, "So....What's New, Pussycat?"

I didn't wait for an answer. I wrapped his mouth up with gauze wraps, leaving him unable to speak with what little mind he had left. Then I threw him back in the sensory-deprivation room and played that very song on repeat for three days straight. The best thing about prolonged sensory deprivation is that the victim has no idea how much time has passed. This could feel anywhere between minutes and years. I don't care what he thinks though. All that I care about are the results.

Oh, and there was a strobe-light involved. I tinkered with the pace of it from time to time just to **** with him, but for the most part, his brain was cooking on its own.

I almost forgot about him in there, as I've been sucked up into finding out what my forgotten identity is in this crazy town, but I had good enough sense to check back on him. The man was clearly starving. He reeked of his own urine and feces. The really tough ones don't tend to break down until those secretions start to ferment, so I put him at a 3 out of 10.

"What's your name?" I asked him.

He looked up at me with baggy eyes, bony cheeks, pale face, and eyes redder than my own no matter how stoned I got, "My name is, 'dog.''"

I smiled upon him, taking his face in my hand, "You're Murrel-damn right it is."

Now that he's broken, I look forward to building him back up in my own designs. He needs me now, and I won't fail him. He will find greater meaning in serving me than any amount of autonomous freedom could have ever granted him. I am his caretaker now.