Author Topic: [Fanfiction/Story] Blood on a Name  (Read 1780 times)

Shadeknight

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[Fanfiction/Story] Blood on a Name
« on: July 04, 2015, 12:08:44 PM »
Author's Note: This is a story based around my main Virtue RP character, Shadeknight. This is a means of telling a pseudo-origin story, and also fixes his wonky background & powers due to the fact I changed him around so much during the game's time. There's intended to be six parts, if not more if such is needed.



His name was soaked in blood.

He, who was so named Christopher, had seen countless deaths since he could first recall having memory. Yet, his life was not so defined by the tragedies that had been committed upon him or by him. He was more than the weeping child at a parent's gravestone or the man breaking fists against walls in rage and guilt. Emotions had always controlled him, but they had not defined him. It was his actions that did, and some defined him better than others with good reason. He wasn't some boy scout, who held back for the sake of others. Like a fair few others he knew, he was willing to do whatever it took to see those who he cherished live. He would gladly die if it meant that his daughter could have that chance to find the happiness that all deserve at least once in their life. Yet, dying was not so simple for a man who could not feel that cold embrace for too long. A grave was merely a wooden blockade in his path, and he had seen many deaths and yet here he stood.

Upon scar-marred tanned flesh, rain began to patter against the frame of this man, who stood upon heights peering down at Atlas Park. Beneath the shadow of grey hair, eyes of vibrant and power-infused goldenrod watched as cars drove by and those of various powers moved around by flight or speed. Such a sight brought him to a brief chuckle as he crouched while the rain's ferocity hinted at picking up. Magic tainted fingers reached out, as if to grab something or someone, and moved around in arcane gestures. Power from the veins flowed to the movements, and took form of wisps of a set of orchid colored strands of energy. Raw power was at his call, and yet to stare at it reminded him of what little he could do - even with magic. He had failed so many, and yet he wielded immense powers at the flick of a wrist or a whispered word of older days.

In mind, he thought of those groups he founded under the few names he remembers. He recalled the likes of The Jadewire, a government-funded sect of heroes meant to do good. Yet, it had become nothing less than a playhouse for those who knew so little. Under a name of Dusk Chameleon, he had been so naive and foolish to think that it would be a good thing. Next, he thought of The Silver Aegis - His pride and joy, and still those thoughts stayed. He, while he was no leader, had done well in setting things up at first. His decline into onsets of madness was the unpredicted happening that made things harder on his plans. However, it worked out - for the most part. The Damocles had adapted to the situations well, and so had the heroes that rose to lead and came to join. It had been with great sacrifice and immense amounts of varying pain, but it had been a step in the right direction - mostly.

He had not expect the wild card actions of Ophosaes - a daemon so fueled by chaos that it was his very nature. The conflict with the daemon lord had left both sides weary and yet it cost Christopher more. He had bumbled too much, and lost friends and loved ones alike. The strain of the battles and their outcomes had left Christopher now divorced - a matter that was hardly ever going to leave his mind. He hated what happened, and wished he could undo it but he never attempted. Time travel, even magical, was too risky and would likely just make things worse.  So he kept things like it was, and had only so soon begun to accept that it had to be this way.

Snapping from his thoughts, he stood up as the storm's winds lashed across his aged face. He had once looked more like a young man, but that time was over. It was simply the point where he now looked older per proper events. The orchid strands of energy faded as he flicked his wrist and he focused his gaze to the sky. Closing his eyes, the war-worn face of his eased into a peaceful look. In that moment, he felt a brief taste of harmony and saw the sight beyond the veil of the living realm. He saw what he needed to do - who he needed to become once more. With his eyes now truly opened, he descended from heights only to take flight by quick eldritch words. He had a long journey ahead of him, but it would be well worth it.