03-10-2016, 02:46 PM
The slow creak of waves splashed against the wood of a colossal sailboat. Stains of salt found their way into the fine etches of wood and nail and corroded all in its path. More powerful than time, or perhaps, more symbolic, was that of the ocean, or even, a single salt-infused wave. The wave lapped at the lower bow of the boat, and made frothing swishes that matched the slow ebb of the tide.
A snake-like creature dwelt in the shadows within a concealed cave, one that was hidden deep within the island. The island wasn’t much to look at, and even less to traverse. Across, it was probably no more than two- or three- hundred paces, and a little less than half as wide. However it was not the surface of this desolate island, nestled away in the darkest depths of the Vasty Deep, that made it so enticingly unique. If one was to stumble upon the wrong current of wave, they would be thrashed in an instant, due to the sheer force of the riptide, or swept away by the current, straight into the cliff face which was littered with sharp-toothed rocks.
If one happened to be crazy enough to drive their boat straight into the cliff, they would find that there was no cliff to collide with, for within the mirage of death and destruction, was the makings of an amazing safe house. One that no one in their right mind would entire with any ship worth sailing. Illusions like this were Behemoth’s specialty.
Sure, he was a secondary in this crazy, insane world. However, while his body’s primary muscles were decaying, as though he were sick, and destined to die due to an unfortunate and unescapable curse. Shadows flickered and danced in the dim light cast by lanterns and torches on the wall. They hissed as droplets of water would fall from the condensation accumulated on the daggers that hung from the cave’s uneven roof. Other illumination bounced off of the luminous gold that lay in great ripples all across a large platform, across from a secret shipyard that had accumulated so many boats, that it was impossible to count without a greater light.
Within this darkness, the kind that had not seen or tasted a hint of sunlight in so long, that the very rocks and water had learned to be nocturnal. Even the plankton in the water did not dare to swim so close to the mouth of the hidden cave. For the darkness was so cold it could be felt for a mile off of the island’s land; this darkness moved in such a way that gave one a sense that it was alive, alive with the evil that dwelled in a single man’s thought.
A figure, paler than a corpse, haunted within these shadows, and dashed out into the light only when he needed. Perhaps it as to snag a trinket from his endless pile, raided from the many ships in his shipyard, or perhaps his nose dribbled so profusely and his fingers had chilled done to his very bones, that he needed a small fragment of heat to keep the muscles alive.
Diamonds of black, surrounded by green, peered cautiously from the darkness, and the gaunt man chased away the cold as he wandered into the open ground, which was scattered with small mountains of gold.
Why was he there, you ask?
Why would a man who could create such convincing illusions dwell in a place darker than the netherworlds, or if you prefer, the shadow realm? Behemoth -that was the name of the ‘man’ ... if one could call him that- had parted ways with his acquaintance Millie some time ago, and had not seen the woman since. It was only by chance that he had found a connection with this girl, and it was only fate that they part ways.
Behemoth had been left on his island to rot. And rot his body did, while his mind and power grew more than any man could imagine. If a boat sailed too close, Behemoth had ways of dealing with it. Ways that were ruthless, and offered little mercy to those who were unfortunate enough to pass too close.
There had been a news story published on the ONN about this a couple days ago, featuring Ron Burgandy, or something like that. Strange fellow, but it drew unwanted attention to the fiend’s continual act of war.
War against who, you might ask?
Well, this secondary has been marooned out on the island for some time. He could easily escape, though most of his boats are large pirate ships, or huge freighters, meant to be manned by well over thirty people, Behemoth had managed to steal every one. It didn’t seem like he had much of an interest in escaping his island, until he read one man’s thoughts, simply by happenstance.
“Did you hear about that one girl, she and a group of secondaries actually MADE it to the Oververse!”
“Yup, yup! And rumor has it, they came back as PRIMES! How unbelievable is that?”
“Completely unbelievable.” the man had agreed, “That really gives secondaries like us hope for the future too!” while his memories were tossed away by Behemoth’s selective taste.
His voice hissed as he spoke to himself, the crew had been paralyzed for several minutes while he raided their pantry. The stars were out, and glowing luminously. The moon was full and bright, sleek on the serpentine man’s scaly skin. “Yes yes, but where issss the proof?”
The thing was, Behemoth was a master of illusions and lies, so he wasn’t about to fall for one that seemed so outlandishly illogical. “I think I’d like to meet one of these.... Newborn Primessss...” Behemoth’s scowled, it didn’t exactly seem like there was any in his vicinity, and while the secondary was a master of waiting, the world had learned to age without him. It could’ve been eons before one of the select few that reportedly made it to the Oververse, came back, or happened to stroll near.
But there was hope, for something long and distant, told him that if there was no one around from that particular voyage, then there may just be one person who knew about the tale that had spun itself into a truth. Those secondaries that had graced the great and powerful Omni with their presence... Those secondaries would have more friends than perhaps, a prime-born individual.
This inkling was enough to rouse Behemoth the monster, from the safety of his own cage.
“W-w-what are you going to do with us?” the captain of the cargo vessel they both stood on had asked. The captain cowered in his own shoes, shaking, he was the only competent one left on the vessel, and well, the rest had resorted to a numbed expression, that left their jaws hanging in an incorrigibly disgusting way.
“Why...” Behemoth’s voice crept coldly from his mouth as his eyes, sharp, tore through the darkness, “I’m going to kill you of course.”
...
A snake-like creature dwelt in the shadows within a concealed cave, one that was hidden deep within the island. The island wasn’t much to look at, and even less to traverse. Across, it was probably no more than two- or three- hundred paces, and a little less than half as wide. However it was not the surface of this desolate island, nestled away in the darkest depths of the Vasty Deep, that made it so enticingly unique. If one was to stumble upon the wrong current of wave, they would be thrashed in an instant, due to the sheer force of the riptide, or swept away by the current, straight into the cliff face which was littered with sharp-toothed rocks.
If one happened to be crazy enough to drive their boat straight into the cliff, they would find that there was no cliff to collide with, for within the mirage of death and destruction, was the makings of an amazing safe house. One that no one in their right mind would entire with any ship worth sailing. Illusions like this were Behemoth’s specialty.
Sure, he was a secondary in this crazy, insane world. However, while his body’s primary muscles were decaying, as though he were sick, and destined to die due to an unfortunate and unescapable curse. Shadows flickered and danced in the dim light cast by lanterns and torches on the wall. They hissed as droplets of water would fall from the condensation accumulated on the daggers that hung from the cave’s uneven roof. Other illumination bounced off of the luminous gold that lay in great ripples all across a large platform, across from a secret shipyard that had accumulated so many boats, that it was impossible to count without a greater light.
Within this darkness, the kind that had not seen or tasted a hint of sunlight in so long, that the very rocks and water had learned to be nocturnal. Even the plankton in the water did not dare to swim so close to the mouth of the hidden cave. For the darkness was so cold it could be felt for a mile off of the island’s land; this darkness moved in such a way that gave one a sense that it was alive, alive with the evil that dwelled in a single man’s thought.
A figure, paler than a corpse, haunted within these shadows, and dashed out into the light only when he needed. Perhaps it as to snag a trinket from his endless pile, raided from the many ships in his shipyard, or perhaps his nose dribbled so profusely and his fingers had chilled done to his very bones, that he needed a small fragment of heat to keep the muscles alive.
Diamonds of black, surrounded by green, peered cautiously from the darkness, and the gaunt man chased away the cold as he wandered into the open ground, which was scattered with small mountains of gold.
Why was he there, you ask?
Why would a man who could create such convincing illusions dwell in a place darker than the netherworlds, or if you prefer, the shadow realm? Behemoth -that was the name of the ‘man’ ... if one could call him that- had parted ways with his acquaintance Millie some time ago, and had not seen the woman since. It was only by chance that he had found a connection with this girl, and it was only fate that they part ways.
Behemoth had been left on his island to rot. And rot his body did, while his mind and power grew more than any man could imagine. If a boat sailed too close, Behemoth had ways of dealing with it. Ways that were ruthless, and offered little mercy to those who were unfortunate enough to pass too close.
There had been a news story published on the ONN about this a couple days ago, featuring Ron Burgandy, or something like that. Strange fellow, but it drew unwanted attention to the fiend’s continual act of war.
War against who, you might ask?
Well, this secondary has been marooned out on the island for some time. He could easily escape, though most of his boats are large pirate ships, or huge freighters, meant to be manned by well over thirty people, Behemoth had managed to steal every one. It didn’t seem like he had much of an interest in escaping his island, until he read one man’s thoughts, simply by happenstance.
“Did you hear about that one girl, she and a group of secondaries actually MADE it to the Oververse!”
“Yup, yup! And rumor has it, they came back as PRIMES! How unbelievable is that?”
“Completely unbelievable.” the man had agreed, “That really gives secondaries like us hope for the future too!” while his memories were tossed away by Behemoth’s selective taste.
His voice hissed as he spoke to himself, the crew had been paralyzed for several minutes while he raided their pantry. The stars were out, and glowing luminously. The moon was full and bright, sleek on the serpentine man’s scaly skin. “Yes yes, but where issss the proof?”
The thing was, Behemoth was a master of illusions and lies, so he wasn’t about to fall for one that seemed so outlandishly illogical. “I think I’d like to meet one of these.... Newborn Primessss...” Behemoth’s scowled, it didn’t exactly seem like there was any in his vicinity, and while the secondary was a master of waiting, the world had learned to age without him. It could’ve been eons before one of the select few that reportedly made it to the Oververse, came back, or happened to stroll near.
But there was hope, for something long and distant, told him that if there was no one around from that particular voyage, then there may just be one person who knew about the tale that had spun itself into a truth. Those secondaries that had graced the great and powerful Omni with their presence... Those secondaries would have more friends than perhaps, a prime-born individual.
This inkling was enough to rouse Behemoth the monster, from the safety of his own cage.
“W-w-what are you going to do with us?” the captain of the cargo vessel they both stood on had asked. The captain cowered in his own shoes, shaking, he was the only competent one left on the vessel, and well, the rest had resorted to a numbed expression, that left their jaws hanging in an incorrigibly disgusting way.
“Why...” Behemoth’s voice crept coldly from his mouth as his eyes, sharp, tore through the darkness, “I’m going to kill you of course.”
...
![[Image: -Gildarts-fairy-tail-35651033-300-180.gif]](http://images6.fanpop.com/image/photos/35600000/-Gildarts-fairy-tail-35651033-300-180.gif)
"I have never met a strong person with an easy past." -Atticus