Re: The Grand Battle II! [Round 4: Showtime!]
04-19-2010, 05:02 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by bobthepen.
Ending a life is a funny thing. It never leaves you unmarred, unaffected. Regardless of the individual or the means, there is always someone or something that tells you ever so silently that what you have done...or what you are about to do, is inherently wrong. Of course the means of dealing with it vary. Most attempt to bury the experience under heaps of other events. "Time heals all" just means that given enough time, the single action will be more easily forgotten amidst the flurry of other experiences. Others drown themselves in it, desensitize themselves to the innate evil of it by repeating the act incessantly. Be it a solider or a madman, the toll is still the same. The worst way to deal with the act, however, the way that damages the human psyche to the fullest extent, is with logic.
This is the path that stood before the genius Maxwell. As he stared at the pitiful man before him, crawling on his knees, eyes crusted and dry from sobbing, the reasons behind his course of action assaulted him at once.
He is the most dangerous. No he has changed. He is a risk to my...our safety. You are going to die here anyway. He's defenseless. Pitiful...how can I...
Indecision held the swordsman fast. Even as the outstretched arm of the Karmist gripped the barrel of his gun, he could not bring himself to fire. Samuel rose up before Maxwell, pressing the shotgun against his chest. The weary eyes of the Karmist stood level with the swordsman. For a brief moment, it seemed to Maxwell as if he was looking into the eyes of another human being yet again.
"It's unbearable boy," The Karmist spoke in a rasped tone, the torturous screams having worn down his voice. Maxwell said nothing in response. "The weight is terrible. I can't carry it any longer...I've lost my will, the faceless took it. End this suffering for me, please."
Mention of Vyrm'n made Maxwell stiffen. "What do you mean? What did Vyrm'n take from you?"
"I was never a strong man. I loved the smell of death, I had to love it, it was a part of me you see. It pushed me forward, kept me going. Your friend...she has the core of death inside of her. Pure blackness. Something my light found irresistible. I can't go on without it, and it would never come back. End me, please."
The words of the old man, and indeed he appeared far more aged than before, produced the opposite of their intended affect. Maxwell's grip on the gun began to loosen gradually. You've come to far to not. I haven't come from anywhere I've been brought. It's the only way he wants it. What is wrong with Vrym'n? What is wrong with me? Nothing of course, in appearance. A wound perhaps? Darkness internal? eternal? He want's escape not redemption. Let him suffer let him free? Freedom in death? Will I even be free. No no time for regrets only action. Action before regrets? Action fed regrets? I..
"What a wretched game...what a terrible power...bringing death to these worlds. Destroying their balance. I am too tired."
"These worlds aren't real. They're fabrications. You can take solace in that. You've brought death to nothing here." Maxwell corrected the Karmist, partly out of argument, partly out of pity.
Samuel shook his head. "No, boy. You can't tell because you can't feel it. These worlds have life in them. Each one a unique place we're taken too. A place with a history and a future. The flow of life extends both ways...though in more than one our presence cut it short. Please I can take no more of this. End me."
Maxwell was frozen. This statement had occurred to him but he had denied himself the possibility for more happy options. The Observer had never displayed any ability to create...only to transport. True there were barriers of sorts, but even the name itself..."Observer" implied that it was a being who knew of existing worlds and places and simply moved about them. The revelation itself would not be so grand were it not coupled with the insight of the "darkness" contained within his protector the faceless. Vyrm'n had all too quickly resorted to murdering the life force of the garden, chased after Cabaret the instant the second round started, and even now possessed such a darkness inside her that would render even the death Karmist feeble in comparison. What does she want with me? Are her motives even that simple? are the palpable are they...
A piercing cry of frustration erupted next to him, breaking his line of thought. With a sudden jerk Samuel ripped the shotgun from Maxwell, placed the end of the barrel against his head and with fresh tears streaming down his cheeks uttered his eulogy.
"What a miserable life. What a miserable game."
With a blast of finality, the Karmist's life ended. Maxwell stood there alone once more.
Ending a life is a funny thing. It never leaves you unmarred, unaffected. Regardless of the individual or the means, there is always someone or something that tells you ever so silently that what you have done...or what you are about to do, is inherently wrong. Of course the means of dealing with it vary. Most attempt to bury the experience under heaps of other events. "Time heals all" just means that given enough time, the single action will be more easily forgotten amidst the flurry of other experiences. Others drown themselves in it, desensitize themselves to the innate evil of it by repeating the act incessantly. Be it a solider or a madman, the toll is still the same. The worst way to deal with the act, however, the way that damages the human psyche to the fullest extent, is with logic.
This is the path that stood before the genius Maxwell. As he stared at the pitiful man before him, crawling on his knees, eyes crusted and dry from sobbing, the reasons behind his course of action assaulted him at once.
He is the most dangerous. No he has changed. He is a risk to my...our safety. You are going to die here anyway. He's defenseless. Pitiful...how can I...
Indecision held the swordsman fast. Even as the outstretched arm of the Karmist gripped the barrel of his gun, he could not bring himself to fire. Samuel rose up before Maxwell, pressing the shotgun against his chest. The weary eyes of the Karmist stood level with the swordsman. For a brief moment, it seemed to Maxwell as if he was looking into the eyes of another human being yet again.
"It's unbearable boy," The Karmist spoke in a rasped tone, the torturous screams having worn down his voice. Maxwell said nothing in response. "The weight is terrible. I can't carry it any longer...I've lost my will, the faceless took it. End this suffering for me, please."
Mention of Vyrm'n made Maxwell stiffen. "What do you mean? What did Vyrm'n take from you?"
"I was never a strong man. I loved the smell of death, I had to love it, it was a part of me you see. It pushed me forward, kept me going. Your friend...she has the core of death inside of her. Pure blackness. Something my light found irresistible. I can't go on without it, and it would never come back. End me, please."
The words of the old man, and indeed he appeared far more aged than before, produced the opposite of their intended affect. Maxwell's grip on the gun began to loosen gradually. You've come to far to not. I haven't come from anywhere I've been brought. It's the only way he wants it. What is wrong with Vrym'n? What is wrong with me? Nothing of course, in appearance. A wound perhaps? Darkness internal? eternal? He want's escape not redemption. Let him suffer let him free? Freedom in death? Will I even be free. No no time for regrets only action. Action before regrets? Action fed regrets? I..
"What a wretched game...what a terrible power...bringing death to these worlds. Destroying their balance. I am too tired."
"These worlds aren't real. They're fabrications. You can take solace in that. You've brought death to nothing here." Maxwell corrected the Karmist, partly out of argument, partly out of pity.
Samuel shook his head. "No, boy. You can't tell because you can't feel it. These worlds have life in them. Each one a unique place we're taken too. A place with a history and a future. The flow of life extends both ways...though in more than one our presence cut it short. Please I can take no more of this. End me."
Maxwell was frozen. This statement had occurred to him but he had denied himself the possibility for more happy options. The Observer had never displayed any ability to create...only to transport. True there were barriers of sorts, but even the name itself..."Observer" implied that it was a being who knew of existing worlds and places and simply moved about them. The revelation itself would not be so grand were it not coupled with the insight of the "darkness" contained within his protector the faceless. Vyrm'n had all too quickly resorted to murdering the life force of the garden, chased after Cabaret the instant the second round started, and even now possessed such a darkness inside her that would render even the death Karmist feeble in comparison. What does she want with me? Are her motives even that simple? are the palpable are they...
A piercing cry of frustration erupted next to him, breaking his line of thought. With a sudden jerk Samuel ripped the shotgun from Maxwell, placed the end of the barrel against his head and with fresh tears streaming down his cheeks uttered his eulogy.
"What a miserable life. What a miserable game."
With a blast of finality, the Karmist's life ended. Maxwell stood there alone once more.