~?~

[Cameron]

A brief origin story for the Saint of Animosity, Omega, not much else to say :\

OMEGA

Gameo Vuotare was always intrigued by his father’s work. He had little intrest for the company of the unfounded children of the village, after years of neglect he was sure they cared little for him, as well. He rarely left the citadel of his grandsire’s design, and as such, his skin was dyed an almost radiant white, in stark contrast with the abyssal darkness of his hair. His eyes were large and darkened by forced attentiveness, and hollowed out by long nights of listless, delirious nights of pious studying.

In essence, his social acceptance and childhood had been stripped from him. All in concern of his father’s studies. And, as endless as they were, Gameo was sure they would end one day, and the thought kept him from shutting his eyes even once during the night. Such was his love of the probing attention his paternal founder that he was willing to give up anything to go one more moment under his father’s silver knife.


One day, as the sun rose over the nearby mountains, Gameo awoke a feeling of urgency. He began to twitch in his bed, and felt blood begin to flow from his nose. Unaware of the inexplicable hemorrhage, he threw himself from the covers and began to stumble down the cold stone hallways, past the baroque and surreal imagery of the parlors, and finally, into the depths of hell itself. The landscape about him began to run and meld with the floor, and the sky became one with the melted earth. The walls bubbled and burst, and the flames of candles began to sparkle and spit out toads. Gameo’s feet hit not stone when they touched the floor, but molasses, and as he stumbled into his father’s lab, he could help but scream a vacant scream.

With a bullet through his skull, there lay the grand doctor, Vuotare, as magnificent in death as he had been in life. Brains and blood gushed from his wound, and a smile of utter content was upon his lips. In his arms lay a beautiful woman, also dead, her long blond hair dashed with crimson. Her pale body was naked and untouched by mortal hands, and by the fingers of god were words painted onto her body.

I’m tired of feeding my soul to people who’d never know just how purposeless and empty they’ve grown.

Gameo’s eyes twirled about in their sockets, reading over this cryptic message over and over again. And again, and yet again. Finally, the text became one with the skin, and the girl one with the man, and, as one, the corpses winked at the boy. Then, their eyes burst, and the bodies toppled from their seat, to sink into the stone molasses.

The pupils of his eyes dilated in a mix of horror and amusement, and Gameo fell back on his hands and began to chuckle. Tears ran down his cheeks, and yet the laughter would stop boiling from his soul. Even as the condition of his world began to sink farther and farther into abstract half existence, he could do nothing but feel his gut tremble in joy. A pain was welling up in his chest, as well, and he knew that something far worse was coming.

The doors behind him were thrust open and demons thudded in, their heavy boots cracking and splintering the molasses. They treaded on nothing into the ends of the world to retrieve the boy. To conclude his father’s experiments. They raised their spears, and from them flew bits of meat, dyed silver and made hard by the flow of time. These chunks struck Gameo, and he could only laugh harder at the absurdity of it all. Then, one of the beasts, with large curling horns stretching out from his bio-suit’s helmet, marched over to the boy and lifted him from the ground, snarling as his muscles flexed.

And, as a baby would pop the head from a dandelion, so did Gameo sever the abomination’s head from his shoulders. It fell to the ground, bellowing and spitting flames, and he chased after it, rivers of blood spurting from his nose and full blown laugh in his lungs. One by one, the other monsters followed the first, and in the end their bodies were nothing more than a billowing field of flowers, moistened and fed on bodily fluids. In confusion, Gameo picked one, soaked in his father’s blood, and all of life snapped back into place.

Xiian’s ST-Mine struck the planet, and all was swept from this existence and into another.


C&C, please :O

Second half'll come as soon as I get some inspiration.

~Dorian Gray

[Thelonepickle]

<3333333

I love your writing.

You know I do. It's so fantastic. My only problem is that there isn't enough. Update. Now. I'll give you some worthwhile critique if you do. Dx

[Fatal_Blade]

Wow you're good. You are very skilled and I look forward to reading the second half. Oh one more thing.....is the Gameo crazy?

[Cameron]

is the Gameo crazy?

Kind of an understatement, but yeah, the kid's totally unstable. Years of subjection to physical distortion and experimentation'll do that to a guy.

I'm working on the second half of the story now, it should be done around sunday or so. Don't hold me to that, though :\

~Dorian Gray

[Fatal_Blade]

Okay just tell me when you're done.

[Jerome]

I heart this. <3

You really need to update tomorrow. :/

I'm looking forward to the second half.

[Nebula Zero]

Indulgent, would be a word to best describe this.

Update, my articulate friend :3

[Cameron]

Urghh, I know I promised a new chapter today, but due to lack of creativity, you've got about 3/4 of one instead. As soon as I finish up the final fourth, I'll upload that too :\


In the eyes of a madman, even empty space can hold promise. The void is nothing more than a new frontier, a new land to be christened and cropped. Reaped and sowed. Maimed and drained of it’s blood.

“Fresh organs for the taking,”

The words slipped from Xiian’s lips, and he squinted as a cosmic luminosity burst forth from the abyss and ate away at the darkness. With a whining hiss, the light curled up and disappeared, with nothing but a vacuum to signify it’s sacrifice. The monster sighed and turned away from the pledge of the icy emptiness, his shadow following quickly behind him.

The planet Ostilità was gone. Forever now, sunken beneath the celestial waves. Xiian’s ST-Mine, the zenith of mortal technology, had assured that. Even the soul was broken with such a weapon. Eighty nine million people, each conceived and raised on nothing but promises and hope, were now nothing more than constituent dust. It was the sole pleasure in Xiian’s interminable existence, rewriting the fate of those born to live and die in solace. Like a God would.

The ship’s walls scattered and reformed as the overlord approached them, terrified of his belligerent touch. The colossal abomination’s fleshy hull flexed in effort, as a man would when opening his mouth, and Xiian passed through one nightmarish room and into another. Feet clacking slowly on the metal constraints overlapping the ship’s pale, oozy skin, he came to stand before the place’s second occupant.

A raven haired man with a stunning complexion and perfect physique, his body was nothing short of aesthetic perfection, the sort of thing that started wars amongst the lustful. Blackened glasses concealing his eyes, he stared apprehensively ahead as his fingers swiftly maneuvered over a solid black chessboard. Both side’s moves were carried out by him.

“Dominique seems to be getting better.” Xiian muttered, arms crossed behind his back.

“With so little done by man these days, we’ve had time to practice. She sends her thanks.” The man replied. His eyes never left the board.
Xiian followed his moves for a moment, then asked, “Who am I speaking to now?’

“Montello. We wish to convey his greetings.”

“I accept them. Tell him I must speak to Legion.”

Reaching out for the white king, the man shivered and sighed. His shoulders sagged back, and he fell into a slump. Removing his glasses, he rubbed his eyes and shifted his king into place. “Checkmate,” He growled, his voice ragged and weak.

Xiian again looked down at the board. A long and disfiguring scratch stretched across the king’s path. Chuckling to himself, he said “Ostilità is dead. Only now is the void slipping in to fill the hole I have made. This whole system is dead. Beyond demise, even. All is at an end here.” Legion nodded, then, biting his lip, began to set the chess pieces back into place. “Yet…tell me, why does the madness persist?”

For the first time, the thing’s hand slipped. The black knight slid from his hand and cracked against the steel flooring. On it’s side, the rich ebony split open and a small mouth began to wail, blood spluttering from it’s new orifice. The ship began to shudder in response, letting out a mournful aria, “He hasn’t found what he wants yet.” Legion hissed, crushing the bawling piece under his heel. Over the cacophony of it’s death cry, he continued, “it’s all about what he wants. It’ll always be about what he wants. A man with countless minds and countless lives, a man who can eat space, a man who doesn’t live in time, it’s always to help him.” He ground his heel harder, and the steel began to crack and wane. “Even if the shit he makes hates what it does, hates what it is, he makes us keep pushing. Until we break.”


Felt like writing a little about Xiian and Legion. Probably two of my favorite characters.

Gameo'll be back next chapter :O

~Dorian Gray