Post by Unknown on Aug 1, 2007 22:37:54 GMT -5
"Change is the constant, the signal for rebirth, the egg of the phoenix."
~Christina Baldwin
It had been several weeks since the fight over the book of Scorpio, which Unknown now knew was in the hands of the Nephilim. He had devised a long, complicated plan of betrayel, murder, and destructive forces to get the book from the bastard-children of the Angels, but had seemingly decided against it on a whim. The twelve remaining members of the Honor Guard, which was essentially the Serpentine Unification, had found this sudden change in plans disturbing. No one, though, questioned the Basilisk King.
This day, which happened to be a Wednesday, was rather dull. The Unknown One sat in his private study in the very hidden Chamber of Serpents, his feet propped up on a desk that seemed to be carved from the stone that the twisting mass was made from. The Chamber of Serpents had always been Unknown's dwelling, and he made sure it would remain so forever. The place was hidden with magicks older than any living wizard...
Or was it?
Unknown shook his head and let the vial he had been levitating around the room fall to a crash. The liquid inside seemed to quench the thirst of the stone below it, disappearing almost immediately. Of course, he thought, the spells guarding the Chamber had been placed there long ago, before any wizard alive had an ancestor with the same last name... yet...
Unknown had spent the last several weeks poignantly ignoring the thoughts that had been plaguing him since his return to the living world. The thoughts which had been lurking in the back of his head as he fought for the book. The thoughts which seemed to be making every move take twice as long to perform. The simple thought of-
No, he wouldn't give the thought room to breathe. Yet, if he was ignoring it, why did he call off his plans? It was because of his lack of man-power, yes, that is why... But, that has never stopped him before. He could take the place of a good thirty men. He should be able to kill one of those damned forsaken angels on his own... Yet...
He was human.
No, the thought was out, and thereby it could breathe and grow, like a flame in his mind, to consume his every action and lead to his death. He had let it out of his mental cage and, now, it was free to wreak all means of havoc. And, why was he so afraid of a thought? Had he not looked the Dark Lord in the face and defied him? Had he not faced beasts that could tear the very fabric of the cosmos to shreds? Had he not killed the Count Scorpius?! He was not afraid of a mere thought as ridiculous as humanity...
Yet, there it was. He was human. He had spent ample time and energy denying it, but, it was true. How, though, he was unsure of. He had lived for, how long? All of existance, as he can remember... Yet, there was a time when he couldn't remember all of that time, wasnt there? A time when he could barely remember back to the first body he inhabited...
That didn't mean he was human, though. Even quasi-deities forgot. Or, he had thought so. Though, there were few experts on the matter of ancient snake-gods or world devours, now were there? As far as he knew, there was himself, and maybe you could consider Giada an expert, but...
He knew why he was human.
That night, in the Chamber of Secrets at the cursed school. When he killed Unknown.... Rob! ROB! He killed the count! Why would he think he killed himself? That's outrageous. He had merely been shocked a good deal, passed out. Quasi-deities don't pass out. Oh shush, you know nothing. Your'e only logic.
Yet, he had died, hadn't he? He remembered clearly how he had laid in the field of white roses... Clearly a dillusion. He had just been hallucina- Quasi-deities don't hallucinate. Of course they do, he had once swore he saw a Crumple-Horned Snorax outside of that cafe` a few years back, yes? That was clearly a hallucination brought on by some extremely powerful alcohol that he had drank at Ra- Quasi-deities don't get drunk.
Enough of this. Unknown slashed his wand through the air and sent a pile of junk piled on a bookshelf flying across the large room. The various books, blades, and jewels crashed against the wall, sending the dust covering them up in a cloud. Unknown grinned. Those were some of the few posessions he had saved from his 'friends' in Britain. They were useless now. Except...
There was a small, violet box laying on the ground apart from the other junk. It's light weight and small size had let it roll away from the scene of the crash, unharmed. Unknown slowly rose from his desk and approached the velvety box with causion, much like one would approach a bomb. He barely remembered this box, only remembering unpacking it... but, where did it come from in the first place? He bent over and picked it up, fast like he was trying to win the race with the explosion...
He found the crack in the box, denoting where the lid began, and slowly opened it up. Inside, he did not find an explosion, he found a diamond ring. The ring, of course, was very elegant. True to the maker's nature. Unknown slowly began to remember this ring, not from recent to long past memories, but the opposite. He remembered creating the gold from lead. He remembered the diamond, which he had made using an old alchemetic ritual involving using his own blood. Quasi-deities don't need blood to make rings. Oh shut up, logic...
He remembered how he wove the gold and the diamond together, how he had done it by hand. He remembered making the box, too. The violet color of the box was natural, the suede having come from the leathery wings of a dragon. He remembered then, taking it to a small pub, hidden in his coat pocket. The pub where he had first met her. The pub where he had used the ring to...
Yes, he remembered. He had intended to marry her and make her his forever. Then, something had happened. A mistake. She was captured by the Dark Lord, used to expose the weaknesses to the Aurors. He had used her up until dead, and Unknown had watched... helped...
Unknown felt a stinging in his eyeball and saw a faint bit of steam rise up from it in the reflection on the gold band. His body was no longer human, but, he feared, he was. That was impossible. He had lived for all of eternity! He had destroyed worlds! Swallowed them whole! He had... done none of those things. He knew it now. The one who had done those things was gone, banished from his soul when he had died under the School. The Snake Flying spaghetti monster had finally been freed...
Unknown closed the lid to the ring and placed the smooth box in his coat pocket. He flicked his wand and the items in the room began to sort themselves into neat piles, and then magically box up. He had decided, as he thought about the snake-god being free, that he would leave this place. He would return to Britain, and he would find her. He flicked his wand once more, and several of his guards appeared in the room.
"Locks," Unknown spoke to a rather tall guard, "Call up Mr. Westwind. I need to know if there is a miss Alexandrea Evans in Britain and, if so, where she is at. This is urgent and, if you fail me, I can do things to you that would make you-"
Unknown cut himself off. He was now just a wizard, afterall.
"-Wish you had never taken this job. Now! Go!"
As Locks left, Unknown gestured at his other guards.
"Pack this place up. We will be taking everything in it with us, and then I will make it disappear. There is a manor, off the coast of the Isle of Man, that I could use instead. I no longer want this hole to hide in."
------------------------------------------------------------
The next day, the Chamber of Serpents was empty, its entire contents stashed away in a hundred magical trunks, which were then whisked away to a manor off the Isle of Man. Unknown had sent his guard there to prepare the place properly. Once Giada, Novus, and Serxika were gone, he remained behind, standing in the rather huge main room of the chambers. He wore leather robes in a startling blue, his hair now cut short with grey sneaking through the jet black. He had gained a slight bit of color to his skin...
With one last look at the statue of his symbol, the sword and snake, Unknown raised his open palm in the air. As he closed it, the Chamber of Serpents began to dissolve, disappearing to nowhere. Unknown watched until the last bit of his throne disappeared, and then he disapparated with a slight pop.
If the time came when he needed the chamber again, he would call for it. He hoped, though, that he would never have use for it again. It was in that chamber that he had held his own Fiance, that he had tortured the only woman to ever show him love. He knew that the Chamber had no part in the betrayel of his lover, but it had been the cause of the monster he had become. It was there, where the sword once stood, that he had tried to kill a god, and in the process had became a monster.
Good riddance.
"Evil is obvious only in retrospect."
~Gloria Steinem
~Christina Baldwin
It had been several weeks since the fight over the book of Scorpio, which Unknown now knew was in the hands of the Nephilim. He had devised a long, complicated plan of betrayel, murder, and destructive forces to get the book from the bastard-children of the Angels, but had seemingly decided against it on a whim. The twelve remaining members of the Honor Guard, which was essentially the Serpentine Unification, had found this sudden change in plans disturbing. No one, though, questioned the Basilisk King.
This day, which happened to be a Wednesday, was rather dull. The Unknown One sat in his private study in the very hidden Chamber of Serpents, his feet propped up on a desk that seemed to be carved from the stone that the twisting mass was made from. The Chamber of Serpents had always been Unknown's dwelling, and he made sure it would remain so forever. The place was hidden with magicks older than any living wizard...
Or was it?
Unknown shook his head and let the vial he had been levitating around the room fall to a crash. The liquid inside seemed to quench the thirst of the stone below it, disappearing almost immediately. Of course, he thought, the spells guarding the Chamber had been placed there long ago, before any wizard alive had an ancestor with the same last name... yet...
Unknown had spent the last several weeks poignantly ignoring the thoughts that had been plaguing him since his return to the living world. The thoughts which had been lurking in the back of his head as he fought for the book. The thoughts which seemed to be making every move take twice as long to perform. The simple thought of-
No, he wouldn't give the thought room to breathe. Yet, if he was ignoring it, why did he call off his plans? It was because of his lack of man-power, yes, that is why... But, that has never stopped him before. He could take the place of a good thirty men. He should be able to kill one of those damned forsaken angels on his own... Yet...
He was human.
No, the thought was out, and thereby it could breathe and grow, like a flame in his mind, to consume his every action and lead to his death. He had let it out of his mental cage and, now, it was free to wreak all means of havoc. And, why was he so afraid of a thought? Had he not looked the Dark Lord in the face and defied him? Had he not faced beasts that could tear the very fabric of the cosmos to shreds? Had he not killed the Count Scorpius?! He was not afraid of a mere thought as ridiculous as humanity...
Yet, there it was. He was human. He had spent ample time and energy denying it, but, it was true. How, though, he was unsure of. He had lived for, how long? All of existance, as he can remember... Yet, there was a time when he couldn't remember all of that time, wasnt there? A time when he could barely remember back to the first body he inhabited...
That didn't mean he was human, though. Even quasi-deities forgot. Or, he had thought so. Though, there were few experts on the matter of ancient snake-gods or world devours, now were there? As far as he knew, there was himself, and maybe you could consider Giada an expert, but...
He knew why he was human.
That night, in the Chamber of Secrets at the cursed school. When he killed Unknown.... Rob! ROB! He killed the count! Why would he think he killed himself? That's outrageous. He had merely been shocked a good deal, passed out. Quasi-deities don't pass out. Oh shush, you know nothing. Your'e only logic.
Yet, he had died, hadn't he? He remembered clearly how he had laid in the field of white roses... Clearly a dillusion. He had just been hallucina- Quasi-deities don't hallucinate. Of course they do, he had once swore he saw a Crumple-Horned Snorax outside of that cafe` a few years back, yes? That was clearly a hallucination brought on by some extremely powerful alcohol that he had drank at Ra- Quasi-deities don't get drunk.
Enough of this. Unknown slashed his wand through the air and sent a pile of junk piled on a bookshelf flying across the large room. The various books, blades, and jewels crashed against the wall, sending the dust covering them up in a cloud. Unknown grinned. Those were some of the few posessions he had saved from his 'friends' in Britain. They were useless now. Except...
There was a small, violet box laying on the ground apart from the other junk. It's light weight and small size had let it roll away from the scene of the crash, unharmed. Unknown slowly rose from his desk and approached the velvety box with causion, much like one would approach a bomb. He barely remembered this box, only remembering unpacking it... but, where did it come from in the first place? He bent over and picked it up, fast like he was trying to win the race with the explosion...
He found the crack in the box, denoting where the lid began, and slowly opened it up. Inside, he did not find an explosion, he found a diamond ring. The ring, of course, was very elegant. True to the maker's nature. Unknown slowly began to remember this ring, not from recent to long past memories, but the opposite. He remembered creating the gold from lead. He remembered the diamond, which he had made using an old alchemetic ritual involving using his own blood. Quasi-deities don't need blood to make rings. Oh shut up, logic...
He remembered how he wove the gold and the diamond together, how he had done it by hand. He remembered making the box, too. The violet color of the box was natural, the suede having come from the leathery wings of a dragon. He remembered then, taking it to a small pub, hidden in his coat pocket. The pub where he had first met her. The pub where he had used the ring to...
Yes, he remembered. He had intended to marry her and make her his forever. Then, something had happened. A mistake. She was captured by the Dark Lord, used to expose the weaknesses to the Aurors. He had used her up until dead, and Unknown had watched... helped...
Unknown felt a stinging in his eyeball and saw a faint bit of steam rise up from it in the reflection on the gold band. His body was no longer human, but, he feared, he was. That was impossible. He had lived for all of eternity! He had destroyed worlds! Swallowed them whole! He had... done none of those things. He knew it now. The one who had done those things was gone, banished from his soul when he had died under the School. The Snake Flying spaghetti monster had finally been freed...
Unknown closed the lid to the ring and placed the smooth box in his coat pocket. He flicked his wand and the items in the room began to sort themselves into neat piles, and then magically box up. He had decided, as he thought about the snake-god being free, that he would leave this place. He would return to Britain, and he would find her. He flicked his wand once more, and several of his guards appeared in the room.
"Locks," Unknown spoke to a rather tall guard, "Call up Mr. Westwind. I need to know if there is a miss Alexandrea Evans in Britain and, if so, where she is at. This is urgent and, if you fail me, I can do things to you that would make you-"
Unknown cut himself off. He was now just a wizard, afterall.
"-Wish you had never taken this job. Now! Go!"
As Locks left, Unknown gestured at his other guards.
"Pack this place up. We will be taking everything in it with us, and then I will make it disappear. There is a manor, off the coast of the Isle of Man, that I could use instead. I no longer want this hole to hide in."
------------------------------------------------------------
The next day, the Chamber of Serpents was empty, its entire contents stashed away in a hundred magical trunks, which were then whisked away to a manor off the Isle of Man. Unknown had sent his guard there to prepare the place properly. Once Giada, Novus, and Serxika were gone, he remained behind, standing in the rather huge main room of the chambers. He wore leather robes in a startling blue, his hair now cut short with grey sneaking through the jet black. He had gained a slight bit of color to his skin...
With one last look at the statue of his symbol, the sword and snake, Unknown raised his open palm in the air. As he closed it, the Chamber of Serpents began to dissolve, disappearing to nowhere. Unknown watched until the last bit of his throne disappeared, and then he disapparated with a slight pop.
If the time came when he needed the chamber again, he would call for it. He hoped, though, that he would never have use for it again. It was in that chamber that he had held his own Fiance, that he had tortured the only woman to ever show him love. He knew that the Chamber had no part in the betrayel of his lover, but it had been the cause of the monster he had become. It was there, where the sword once stood, that he had tried to kill a god, and in the process had became a monster.
Good riddance.
"Evil is obvious only in retrospect."
~Gloria Steinem