05-05-2016, 06:36 PM
“What good is rage? That tempestuous storm of ruination brings nothing but melancholy to mankind,” Strazio spoke, “My teacher used to always ask me that.”
The twisted troll looked up at Strazio in anticipation. He expected, rather hoped, that the mage would offer some sage-like advice to turn his life around. Strazio scoffed and spit into the ash-caked dirt before speaking once more, “I always told him he was full of bullshit. I’m feeling strangely generous Gamzee, let me show you something.”
Even stripped of his powers in this sleep-death realm confidence erring on the side of arrogance spit through Strazio’s throat. And it was that confidence, that unabashed aura of willpower, that forced Gamzee to answer with a quiet “Okay”. The troll watched as Ambrosia disintegrated and the very fabric of this cruel play was torn asunder. Behind the torn veil pale alabaster walls formed a massive atrium. A cathedral, one might say, made from ivory pillars and bleached pews. White upon white formed a dizzying dance where the only definition came from the razor-thin black outlines forced upon such imperial objects.
There was no pulpit here, not in the church of rage; in its place a man made from lightning was chained to the cream-colored cobblestone. The man brought an almost welcome deviation from the hues of alabaster plaguing the cathedral. Inside his skull black coals smoldering with yellow pupils stared daggers at the newcomers. A strip of ebony hugged his spine. Grey-metal chains were clasped around his limbs and kept him as the cathedral’s prisoner. There were no screams, no declarations of hatred. The creature simply stood taut against the chains seething with an unyielding anger.
“Where are we?” The high-blood asked.
“Not sure,” Strazio responded, walking towards the chained monster, “ Only been here a few times in my life. Kinda looks like a church or some shit right?”
“Yeah, yeah it does. What did you want to show me?”
“This guy,” Strazio turned his back to the Chained and held his hand up palm-down, as if presenting the thing.
“That thing gives me the creeps, “ Gamzee half-laughed insincerely, “Motherfucker’s givin’ off all kindsa bad vibes. What is it?”
“This, my neurotic friend, this is my rage made manifest. The Avatar of Rage himself.”
Gamzee gulped.
“See, I was thinking about your blood problem. About how you can’t control yourself without that slime bullshit. That gnawing feeling, that scratching in the back of your mind, that -that- need for destruction. You see I get that.”
“How brother? You ain’t no high-blood, you haven’t been horking down pies.”
“No,” The mage smirked, “But I get that feeling every time I unleash the avatar. Hell, I’ve had that feeling since I was a young kid buried beneath my dead town. That need for a release, that need to kill, that unearthly desire to decimate anything, everything .”
Gamzee stayed silent, almost hypnotized by Strazio’s speech.
“If my teacher hadn’t found me I probably would’ve been dead in a ditch after trying to kill some random scrub.”
“So what, what’d he do? It’s still there, your anger ain’t it?”
“He taught me magick, you see these chains?” Strazio kicked the metal plated bolted into the ground, “These are my magick.”
“They control it?”
“No,” He said, “But they let me wield it constructively. The scratching is still there, just quiet, just subdued.”
“What’s that got to do with me?” Gamzee asked.
“Whatever is in you is running loose man, fucking you up major without that druggy slime in your blood.”
“Yeah?” Gamzee took a few steps forward, until he was close to Strazio.
“You need chains man,” Strazio rattled the Avatar’s chain, much to its chagrin, “Magick, man I can teach it to you. Teach you how to forge your own chains, teach you how to wield that thing lurking in your blood. And if this place has more creatures like the Harbinger, trust me, you’ll need it.”
“I... I don’t know,” Gamzee put a hand behind his neck, ‘I’d rather just have more slime man.”
“Up to you, think on it and let me know when we wake up.”
“Sure...” Gamzee began to speak but was interrupted.
“Oh, and get out of my damned head.” Strazio growled, delivering a kick square into Gamzee’s chest. The high-blood toppled backwards but found no floor to catch him. A black pit opened up and swallowed him, removing the bleached cathedral from sight. He yelled, but found an absence of sound. His eyelids grew heavy and the sudden fall turned to a more peaceful lilt towards some unknown ground. Even the troll’s demon’s seemed at peace as he feel deeper and deeper into oblivion.
The twisted troll looked up at Strazio in anticipation. He expected, rather hoped, that the mage would offer some sage-like advice to turn his life around. Strazio scoffed and spit into the ash-caked dirt before speaking once more, “I always told him he was full of bullshit. I’m feeling strangely generous Gamzee, let me show you something.”
Even stripped of his powers in this sleep-death realm confidence erring on the side of arrogance spit through Strazio’s throat. And it was that confidence, that unabashed aura of willpower, that forced Gamzee to answer with a quiet “Okay”. The troll watched as Ambrosia disintegrated and the very fabric of this cruel play was torn asunder. Behind the torn veil pale alabaster walls formed a massive atrium. A cathedral, one might say, made from ivory pillars and bleached pews. White upon white formed a dizzying dance where the only definition came from the razor-thin black outlines forced upon such imperial objects.
There was no pulpit here, not in the church of rage; in its place a man made from lightning was chained to the cream-colored cobblestone. The man brought an almost welcome deviation from the hues of alabaster plaguing the cathedral. Inside his skull black coals smoldering with yellow pupils stared daggers at the newcomers. A strip of ebony hugged his spine. Grey-metal chains were clasped around his limbs and kept him as the cathedral’s prisoner. There were no screams, no declarations of hatred. The creature simply stood taut against the chains seething with an unyielding anger.
“Where are we?” The high-blood asked.
“Not sure,” Strazio responded, walking towards the chained monster, “ Only been here a few times in my life. Kinda looks like a church or some shit right?”
“Yeah, yeah it does. What did you want to show me?”
“This guy,” Strazio turned his back to the Chained and held his hand up palm-down, as if presenting the thing.
“That thing gives me the creeps, “ Gamzee half-laughed insincerely, “Motherfucker’s givin’ off all kindsa bad vibes. What is it?”
“This, my neurotic friend, this is my rage made manifest. The Avatar of Rage himself.”
Gamzee gulped.
“See, I was thinking about your blood problem. About how you can’t control yourself without that slime bullshit. That gnawing feeling, that scratching in the back of your mind, that -that- need for destruction. You see I get that.”
“How brother? You ain’t no high-blood, you haven’t been horking down pies.”
“No,” The mage smirked, “But I get that feeling every time I unleash the avatar. Hell, I’ve had that feeling since I was a young kid buried beneath my dead town. That need for a release, that need to kill, that unearthly desire to decimate anything, everything .”
Gamzee stayed silent, almost hypnotized by Strazio’s speech.
“If my teacher hadn’t found me I probably would’ve been dead in a ditch after trying to kill some random scrub.”
“So what, what’d he do? It’s still there, your anger ain’t it?”
“He taught me magick, you see these chains?” Strazio kicked the metal plated bolted into the ground, “These are my magick.”
“They control it?”
“No,” He said, “But they let me wield it constructively. The scratching is still there, just quiet, just subdued.”
“What’s that got to do with me?” Gamzee asked.
“Whatever is in you is running loose man, fucking you up major without that druggy slime in your blood.”
“Yeah?” Gamzee took a few steps forward, until he was close to Strazio.
“You need chains man,” Strazio rattled the Avatar’s chain, much to its chagrin, “Magick, man I can teach it to you. Teach you how to forge your own chains, teach you how to wield that thing lurking in your blood. And if this place has more creatures like the Harbinger, trust me, you’ll need it.”
“I... I don’t know,” Gamzee put a hand behind his neck, ‘I’d rather just have more slime man.”
“Up to you, think on it and let me know when we wake up.”
“Sure...” Gamzee began to speak but was interrupted.
“Oh, and get out of my damned head.” Strazio growled, delivering a kick square into Gamzee’s chest. The high-blood toppled backwards but found no floor to catch him. A black pit opened up and swallowed him, removing the bleached cathedral from sight. He yelled, but found an absence of sound. His eyelids grew heavy and the sudden fall turned to a more peaceful lilt towards some unknown ground. Even the troll’s demon’s seemed at peace as he feel deeper and deeper into oblivion.