J. Arkham

So, it seems I'll have another professor under my leadership. Exhilerating.

( Private to Mary. )

And it comes to full circle. The pieces begin to go into place. The helper has arrived, and the lure is on standby.

Perfect.

Well, it wasn't as though we saw much of him, anyway.

So, it seems, the Lord has gained a pet.

Wish that I should take her from you? I'm sure I could put her to fine use, now that I am mobile again.

i am going to kill that blond twit

Row, row, row your boat (row, row, row your boat)
Gently down the stream (gently down the stream)
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily (merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily)
Life is but a scream









.
.
.
.
.
.
.

NOT QUITE, YOU BITCH

Blasted specter.

( Private // same as with Vergil )

Mary, Mary.

And that, my dears, is that.

She who ran has become she who is caught.

Warring princes; lost empress. Slave of a god; virgin of mortals.

Warring princes, each on each side of a war the Emperor once fought.

Once upon a time, there was a strong Emperor. Not only strong, was the Emperor, but kind and giving after being brought to the light from his former ruthless, sinful self. A martyr, the Emperor gladly put his position and his being on the line for a Kingdom unaware of his presence, until his deed was completed. Fallen, the Emperor lost his lot in his former Kingdom, his betrayal far too much, but he was welcome with upon, grateful arms by the Kingdom he freed from tyranny and oppression. However, as a testament to the kind soul he was, the Emperor, who would have easily been able to claim that Kingdom as his own, took to the shadows from which he would reign, not as Emperor, but as Protector to that Kingdom. For, as strong as his binds were that separated both Kingdoms, no bind as large as that is flawless, and the wicked Kingdom from which he sprang began work almost immediately to break through, to regain what he'd stripped from it.

The Emperor had lost many life-qualities of his own in the great battle against one for the other, having sacrificed not only his lot, but all this, to formulate the magical adhesive used on the bind. However, this did not include his longevity. In a world where everything is born, and eventually dies, he was forced to roam, to hide under multiple guises, until eventually no one remained who could say, 'Yes, that is the Emperor that sacrificed so much for us.'

Days turned to weeks, weeks to months, months to years, years to centuries, until a millennium, almost two, had passed. It was at this time that the Emperor of Shadows, living a life of ever-changing solitude, was awoken to a new light: love.

She was a beautiful, strong woman in a time when such a trait as strength was abhorred if in the mind of the far more... gentle sex. A legend in her own right, the noble woman, young by the standards of our current world, fought the same battle as he, though under the brainwashing of a facilitation that hid her; used her.

The Emperor would, one day, after a long time coming, claim her as his Empress. She worshipped him, and he doted on her as though she were a goddess. Their love, unparallel, would eventually bring about the birth of children. Two Princes, handsome from the fine combination of both their parents. Spoiled, loved, life was perfect for the Emperor and his beloved family.

However, the Kingdom from which the Emperor came, which he had betrayed so long ago, would not hear of the Emperor having happiness for very long. Oh no, and when the Princes had yet to even touch a decade's worth of age, the Emperor and his family were shattered. He vanished, leaving them vunerable to his enemies.

The Empress, years out of practice, didn't stand much a chance at all the night minions of the wicked Kingdom stormed their grand home. She fought valiantly, and it is said that there are demons still bearing permanent wounds from her fight, but her life did end that night, along with, the legend says, the elder Prince, who attempted to help her, though he logically did not stand a chance.

The youngest Prince was lost. The eldest Prince's body would never be found, after being picked up by authorities for burial. The rumor was that his body was stolen by way of alchemists seeking to understand the body of a child. The youngest was lost into a system not built for the safety of children.

Unfortunately for the Empress, though the body dies, the soul does not, and the wicked Kingdom specialized in the torturing of souls, not bodies. Truly unfortunate, for the moment her soul pulled from her torn and tattered body, she learned that the Emperor's former Lord and Master was already prepared.

Unto the Empress's soul, four Hunters were dispatched. Not in the binds of a mortal body, the Empress was able to rid of these soul Hunters almost immediately, impressing her Emperor's Lord and Master, but not deterring him. From that point, he dispatched eight. And soon, sixteen, and from that, thirty-two. On, and on, the numbers increased, as for some time, the Empress was able to continue to fight them off. Unfortunate that, stuck in a mortal world in the form of a soul, one can be hurt as a mortal, and require the essentials of a mortal to remain strong, yet remain "alive" enough to suffer through the deprivation of such things.

Eventually, many, many years later, the wicked Kingdom would come to learn of not only the youngest Prince's location, but the location of the elder Prince, who managed to survive the night that the Empress was vanquished from the mortal plane. The Hunters were given a new task then: to tug the Empress along like a cow herded, or a puppet on strings if one could get close enough, to attempt to lure the Princes around.

To double the effectiveness, the wicked Kingdom produced creatures bearing the image of the Empress. All were failures, except for one. A carbon copy in body, but with a far different personality, the Temptress was dispatched to the mortal plane, to torture, to taunt, to lure and eventually kill the Princes.

Too bad for the wicked Kingdom, once you let a bird fly... it becomes unpredictable; especially when molded into the face of someone like the poor, poor Empress.

Vergil DeCleric.

I need to see you in my office first thing in the morning, before you rushing off to cater to that silly play.

From the mouths of innocents and virgins, does the truth come quickly. Or so they say. Innocents and virgins simply are the best actors and tempters of all time. How can the innocent be fraudulent? Not intentionally, of course, but rather quite naturally. Only those who try deception intentionally can be read like books.

Midway the path of life that men pursue
I found me in a darkling wood astray,
For the direct way had been lost to view.
Ah me, how hard a thing it is to say
What was this thorny wildwood intricate
Whose memory renews the first dismay!
Scarcely in death is bitterness more great:
But as concerns the good discovered there
The other things I saw will I relate.

In the midway of this our mortal life,
I found me in a gloomy wood, astray
Gone from the path direct: and e'en to tell,
It were no easy task, how savage wild
That forest, how robust and rough its growth,
Which to remember only, my dismay
Renews, in bitterness not far from death.
Yet, to discourse of what there good befel,
All else will I relate discover'd there.

How first I enter'd it I scarce can say,
Such sleepy dulness in that instant weigh'd
My senses down, when the true path I left;
But when a mountain's foot I reach'd, where closed
The valley that had pierced my heart with dread,
I look'd aloft, and saw his shoulders broad
Already vested with that planet's beam,
Who leads all wanderers safe through every way.


Then was a little respite to the fear,
That in my heart's recesses deep had lain
All of that night, so pitifully past:
And as a man, with difficult short breath,
Forespent with toiling, 'scaped from sea to shore,
Turns to the perilous wide waste, and stands


A gaze; e'en so my spirit, that yet fail'd,
Struggling with terror, turn'd to view the straits
That none hath passed and lived. My weary frame
After short pause recomforted, again
I journey'd on over that lonely steep,
The hinder foot still firmer. Scarce the ascent
Began, when, lo! a panther, nimble, light,
And cover'd with a speckled skin, appear'd;
Nor, when it saw me, vanish'd; rather strove
To check my onward going; that oft - times,
With purpose to retrace my steps, I turn'd.