SHF Scribe '10
Post by Toadkiller Dog on Mar 12, 2009 8:35:50 GMT
The world is a terrible place. Full of greed, betrayal, lying, malice and...murder.
But I can make things better for you, maybe even easier. Yes, you play my game and by my rules and I can make your wishes come true. It's not always money I'd ask for, oh no, I'm not that greedy. Sometimes a smaller price, sometimes a far larger price. Though the price you'll never know until it's too late to turn back, you see that's the first rule in my game. It depends on the nature of your wish, the degree of it's severity and the means behind your wanting of it. When the worst seems to have come, and your back is against the wall, I may be your last solution. It takes little. A prayer and payment. There will never be a leak trickling back down to you, no matter what the deed be, never a single suspicious glance given your way...if I so choose. I can be anywhere, or nowhere at all, my will is your whim. Now then, would you like to play my game?
_____________________________________________________________________
The damp room carried the stench of death, though nothing had died in it. The many white candles spread about wavered and winked as the overhead wind chimes rattled and sung. Somewhere, as if in the far, far distance a bell tolled, faintly, but surely it tolled. Gooseflesh crawled over the skins of the drably suited business men huddled around the small offering shrine.
Everything had been done as rumor had told, the prayers spoken in the foreign tongue, the doves beheaded, their blood leaked carefully into the small silver dish in the center of the makeshift altar. The man knelt in the center of the gathering, the offerer an overweight man, the sweat of both worry and fear dancing about his brow. A bandage covering his left hand, his severed pinky finger now swimming in the silver dish of life fluid. He mumbled words of the Christian god, looking as if he'd soon be sick. The sound of buzzing insects slowly began to manifest in the room, picking up pace in loudness and intensity with every second until finally the spot before the altar seemed alive with thousands, possibly even millions of black fly like insects. They buzzed haphazzardly, back and fourth in a sort of hypnotic fashion until the swarm began to bind in closer together, seeming to form the silhouette of a man, or at least a demihuman shaped being.
A whimper could be heard from one of the men knelt with his head down in the back. The offerer gulped audibly, the sound and warm stench of fresh urine being leaked down trousers now present. A figure now stood on the other end of the altar, tall and slender, tattered dark robing sprawled from head to toe, with browned bandages, once white clinging to it's arms and face. Through which only one eye poked through to gaze upon it's fearful audience. The eye pierced through those of the men, as if searing the very coils of the mortal soul, a bright, luminous glare. The rattle of many chains sounded as it shifted it's weight, pulling back a long, ripped portion of the black robing. This revealing a myriad of various bladed weapons ranging from simple swords to intricate polearms. And finally it spoke...the sound of it's voice releasing another torrent of piss from the offerer, and this time from a few of his lackies as well.
A voice directly from the fabric of the nastiest of nightmares, chilling to the bone, with even a single syllable. The voice low, raspy and distant, but yet commandingly vehement in it's tone, and seemingly all amongst the room at once, as if spoken by many. The delivery seizing at the hearts of the men before it, turning them a shade of ghostly white. Sounded a tinge agitated is spoke once more, having it's last question seemingly unheralded.
"I am Junjinji, forlorn walker between plains. You have summoned me in seeking of my services, of this am I correct mortal?" The words bounded off the shallow, damp walls, echoing, but yet directing themselves toward the offerer. A new layer of sweat began to seep over the last on the fat man's face as he looked up, trembling, toward the single, flowing eye of the plain walker.
His voice came weak, almost a whisper. "Y..Yes..Yes, lord Junjinji, it is vengeance I seek. Bloodshed without the d..dirtying of my own hands."
Junjinji laughed at the feeble man's request, a piercing chuckle, sinking the men's hopes, and pouring a thick coating of gasoline over their fears. It bent over only slightly, carrying a fresh waft of nauseatingly sickly sweet dissolution with it. Dabbing one bandaged finger into the dish of dove's blood, the severed pinky wading to the edge. Suddenly the penetrating gaze of that eyeball looked up from the altar into the face of the offerer. A hand shot out quicker than the men's mortal eyes could comprehend, stopping less than an inch in front of the man's head, index finger pointing out, dove blood coating it. And at that the finger was pressed into the center of the man's forehead, leaving a crimson smear. The sensation like that of death to the offerer. His mind swirled and writhed under what felt like the pressures of hell, threatening to spill over the edges of his sanity, dripping into the unhollowed grounds of delirium.
Madness scraped at the man's brain, as his eyes rolled back into his head, and all of his fears, the very worst of them came into crystal clear view in the front of the line of stacking thoughts. The death of his daughter, barely even sixteen in years spread in panorama before him, her form mutilated into a dozen pieces, her gore squirming, still living, though defying all reason and logic. Her severed head spoke, no cried his name in sheer agony...and finally the real world began to swim back into view as the blood tipped finger was removed from his forehead. Drool hung to the corner of his mouth now, he felt a sickness beyond repulsion.
"You've been marked mortal. I'm sure you've seen fear just now. It can only get worse, remember that. I will now ask one simple question. A single question and after this, these wishes of yours, and possibly even more will all become reality. There is always a price to pay, no matter what the game, you should know this well as an established man of business. Here is my ply, of which there is only one stipulation. Well you make me this payment I will ask of you? But there is a catch, and you'd do well to consider this before answering. That being you will not know what form of payment I ask until it has already been met. You either agree or you do not, now answer, and clearly."
The man felt bewildered, helpless and sick all at once as he tried to reason what he was hearing.
"But I, what is..I.." His stuttering was cut short quickly as a short blade darted toward his throat, stopping a hairs length from his all too vulnerable jugular.
"Silence. you will answer me clearly, or your claret will seal this deal. Speak, quickly."
Came the angered roar of the plain walker.
The offerer sputtered his answer in quick succession. "Yes..Y..yes..please."
At this Junjinji laughed again, the blade gone now, though no one in the room saw it be re-sheathed amongst the multitude of weaponry strapped to every inch of the being. It raised it's hand slowly, almost as if glaring at it, then hurriedly snatched up the corpse of a decapitated dove. The already dead body began to rapidly dwindle into a gnarled blackened shriveling of itself in the bandage dressed hand.
And at that Junjinji let the pitiful carcass fall freely to the floor below. It chuckled again, speaking once more though it's voice now lower than previously, though just as intimidating as before.
"Your daughter is dead. Her remains are spread amongst your home. Your wife is just now pulling the trigger to the pistol you hide in the cheap lockbox at the top shelf of your closet, splattering her brains across your bedroom mirror. Though no tears, she died quickly. Your daughter however...the empty house still echoes with her agonizing cries. The deed is done, you greedy little mortal. Though as promised my half of the bargain will be completed. I will kill your rivals, all of them, every firm, every accountant, banker, paper pusher and every competing company. All dead, I will ensure this in but an hour. It shall take no longer. The game has been played, we are finished."
Suddenly all seemed well again, no more insects, tolling bells or lingering stenches of decaying death. The chimes rattled no more, all that was left was a room full of ghostly white, drably suited business men, huddled in front of a makeshift altar. The man in the center wept, his hands over his chubby cheeks as bitter tears slipped between his fingers.
But I can make things better for you, maybe even easier. Yes, you play my game and by my rules and I can make your wishes come true. It's not always money I'd ask for, oh no, I'm not that greedy. Sometimes a smaller price, sometimes a far larger price. Though the price you'll never know until it's too late to turn back, you see that's the first rule in my game. It depends on the nature of your wish, the degree of it's severity and the means behind your wanting of it. When the worst seems to have come, and your back is against the wall, I may be your last solution. It takes little. A prayer and payment. There will never be a leak trickling back down to you, no matter what the deed be, never a single suspicious glance given your way...if I so choose. I can be anywhere, or nowhere at all, my will is your whim. Now then, would you like to play my game?
_____________________________________________________________________
The damp room carried the stench of death, though nothing had died in it. The many white candles spread about wavered and winked as the overhead wind chimes rattled and sung. Somewhere, as if in the far, far distance a bell tolled, faintly, but surely it tolled. Gooseflesh crawled over the skins of the drably suited business men huddled around the small offering shrine.
Everything had been done as rumor had told, the prayers spoken in the foreign tongue, the doves beheaded, their blood leaked carefully into the small silver dish in the center of the makeshift altar. The man knelt in the center of the gathering, the offerer an overweight man, the sweat of both worry and fear dancing about his brow. A bandage covering his left hand, his severed pinky finger now swimming in the silver dish of life fluid. He mumbled words of the Christian god, looking as if he'd soon be sick. The sound of buzzing insects slowly began to manifest in the room, picking up pace in loudness and intensity with every second until finally the spot before the altar seemed alive with thousands, possibly even millions of black fly like insects. They buzzed haphazzardly, back and fourth in a sort of hypnotic fashion until the swarm began to bind in closer together, seeming to form the silhouette of a man, or at least a demihuman shaped being.
A whimper could be heard from one of the men knelt with his head down in the back. The offerer gulped audibly, the sound and warm stench of fresh urine being leaked down trousers now present. A figure now stood on the other end of the altar, tall and slender, tattered dark robing sprawled from head to toe, with browned bandages, once white clinging to it's arms and face. Through which only one eye poked through to gaze upon it's fearful audience. The eye pierced through those of the men, as if searing the very coils of the mortal soul, a bright, luminous glare. The rattle of many chains sounded as it shifted it's weight, pulling back a long, ripped portion of the black robing. This revealing a myriad of various bladed weapons ranging from simple swords to intricate polearms. And finally it spoke...the sound of it's voice releasing another torrent of piss from the offerer, and this time from a few of his lackies as well.
A voice directly from the fabric of the nastiest of nightmares, chilling to the bone, with even a single syllable. The voice low, raspy and distant, but yet commandingly vehement in it's tone, and seemingly all amongst the room at once, as if spoken by many. The delivery seizing at the hearts of the men before it, turning them a shade of ghostly white. Sounded a tinge agitated is spoke once more, having it's last question seemingly unheralded.
"I am Junjinji, forlorn walker between plains. You have summoned me in seeking of my services, of this am I correct mortal?" The words bounded off the shallow, damp walls, echoing, but yet directing themselves toward the offerer. A new layer of sweat began to seep over the last on the fat man's face as he looked up, trembling, toward the single, flowing eye of the plain walker.
His voice came weak, almost a whisper. "Y..Yes..Yes, lord Junjinji, it is vengeance I seek. Bloodshed without the d..dirtying of my own hands."
Junjinji laughed at the feeble man's request, a piercing chuckle, sinking the men's hopes, and pouring a thick coating of gasoline over their fears. It bent over only slightly, carrying a fresh waft of nauseatingly sickly sweet dissolution with it. Dabbing one bandaged finger into the dish of dove's blood, the severed pinky wading to the edge. Suddenly the penetrating gaze of that eyeball looked up from the altar into the face of the offerer. A hand shot out quicker than the men's mortal eyes could comprehend, stopping less than an inch in front of the man's head, index finger pointing out, dove blood coating it. And at that the finger was pressed into the center of the man's forehead, leaving a crimson smear. The sensation like that of death to the offerer. His mind swirled and writhed under what felt like the pressures of hell, threatening to spill over the edges of his sanity, dripping into the unhollowed grounds of delirium.
Madness scraped at the man's brain, as his eyes rolled back into his head, and all of his fears, the very worst of them came into crystal clear view in the front of the line of stacking thoughts. The death of his daughter, barely even sixteen in years spread in panorama before him, her form mutilated into a dozen pieces, her gore squirming, still living, though defying all reason and logic. Her severed head spoke, no cried his name in sheer agony...and finally the real world began to swim back into view as the blood tipped finger was removed from his forehead. Drool hung to the corner of his mouth now, he felt a sickness beyond repulsion.
"You've been marked mortal. I'm sure you've seen fear just now. It can only get worse, remember that. I will now ask one simple question. A single question and after this, these wishes of yours, and possibly even more will all become reality. There is always a price to pay, no matter what the game, you should know this well as an established man of business. Here is my ply, of which there is only one stipulation. Well you make me this payment I will ask of you? But there is a catch, and you'd do well to consider this before answering. That being you will not know what form of payment I ask until it has already been met. You either agree or you do not, now answer, and clearly."
The man felt bewildered, helpless and sick all at once as he tried to reason what he was hearing.
"But I, what is..I.." His stuttering was cut short quickly as a short blade darted toward his throat, stopping a hairs length from his all too vulnerable jugular.
"Silence. you will answer me clearly, or your claret will seal this deal. Speak, quickly."
Came the angered roar of the plain walker.
The offerer sputtered his answer in quick succession. "Yes..Y..yes..please."
At this Junjinji laughed again, the blade gone now, though no one in the room saw it be re-sheathed amongst the multitude of weaponry strapped to every inch of the being. It raised it's hand slowly, almost as if glaring at it, then hurriedly snatched up the corpse of a decapitated dove. The already dead body began to rapidly dwindle into a gnarled blackened shriveling of itself in the bandage dressed hand.
And at that Junjinji let the pitiful carcass fall freely to the floor below. It chuckled again, speaking once more though it's voice now lower than previously, though just as intimidating as before.
"Your daughter is dead. Her remains are spread amongst your home. Your wife is just now pulling the trigger to the pistol you hide in the cheap lockbox at the top shelf of your closet, splattering her brains across your bedroom mirror. Though no tears, she died quickly. Your daughter however...the empty house still echoes with her agonizing cries. The deed is done, you greedy little mortal. Though as promised my half of the bargain will be completed. I will kill your rivals, all of them, every firm, every accountant, banker, paper pusher and every competing company. All dead, I will ensure this in but an hour. It shall take no longer. The game has been played, we are finished."
Suddenly all seemed well again, no more insects, tolling bells or lingering stenches of decaying death. The chimes rattled no more, all that was left was a room full of ghostly white, drably suited business men, huddled in front of a makeshift altar. The man in the center wept, his hands over his chubby cheeks as bitter tears slipped between his fingers.
