Had this kicking around since January, so I thought I should probably post it. Let me know what you think
Origins of The Torment
A man, whose name is not important, lived a life of crookery and double dealing until the day of his death, where he made a deal with a devil which caused havoc, mayhem and Torment for the world.
The decrepit protagonist of foul dealings slammed the door to his shabby, damp apartment in the Rogue Isles with a large sense of self satisfaction; he had just conned himself a small fortune, or at least by his standards. He was an accountant, for one Miss Madeline Casey (among others), who was not only rich actress with thousands of fans, but was also a well known contact of the heroes of Paragon City. By falsifying the kind-hearted young womans invoices into depicting many expenses classed as charity donations, when in fact he was keeping the money for himself. He wiped his hand through his slick, jet black, side parted hair and let out a small snigger that he used a womans charitable nature as a way of embezzling without being discovered. A gambling man, he thought he would get a ferry to the St. Martial district and spend some time on the slot machines in the Golden Giza, just to add to his mockery of Miss Caseys ideals.
As he was sitting in the isles of the ferry, in between the two private security guards he hired from out of a phone book to help guard his bursting wallet, he reflected that he got away so cleanly that no cop or Hero will come to bring him to justice, and he sniggered to himself, sitting in his best (albeit cheap and shabby) suit. However, the irony of fate already had a plan for this two faced weasel, as his rented guards werent as legitimate as he expected.
They were wanted men, and a dispatch of the Rogue Isles P.D. was en route to intercept the ferry as it docked: to arrest them and any associates. As the ship pulled up to the side, the crooked accountants two crooked hired guns saw the squad car and thought it best they take a hostage for their escape, so they grabbed the weasely conman by the throat and proceeded out of the ferry. One of the two cops waiting outside fancied himself quite the marksman, and after the two perpetrators ignored his warnings, he opened fire on them, thinking he was good enough not to hit the hostage. He was wrong; hitting the hostage in the eye and killing him instantly, allowing the hired guns to escape, but not before they took the corpses wallet.
The now dead accountant, whose name is not important, descended into the dark depths of hell. He noticed that a black, leather eye patch had appeared over his fatal wound, before looking up and noticing the very large demon which he was laying in front of. If bodily functions existed in the afterlife, the slick haired man would have lost control of them. The demon stood in front of him, 20 foot tall and similar in appearance to a bipedal wolf save for its flaming eyes and glowing human-like arms, and looked down on the wreck laying in front of him with a cross between anger and disgust. The demon growled and clenched its fists, triggering the slick haired man lying at its feet to squeal Wait, Wait! Look we can make a deal right? I I really dont want to be here. I can do anything, anything, if you can just get me out of here; I got stuff to do up there. He pointed up, but saw nothing but black. The demon spoke, and in a voice so deep that the ground trembled with every word, but so dark and gritty it caused the accountants spine to tremble with each of the demons breaths. If you so wish, then I can put you back on Earth, but you must first, give me your soul. The demon paused mid-sentence as if to build tension, which considering this accountant (normally feeling nervous by the sight of anything with sharp edges) was lying in hell standing in front of a 20 foot demon, with hellfire burning his jacket to ash around his torso, was slightly unnecessary. Considering the circumstances, and the fact that he had been described as soulless by people before, coupled with the fact that he was too scared to think of the possibility this proposition may be not all it was cracked up to be, he thought that was a pretty good deal, I mean who needed a soul in the Rogue Isles anyway? He accepted this deal with silent enthusiasm, and the demon proceeded to perform the ritual both to claim his soul and to return him to Earth, where he could get some burn ointment. This ritual involved the branding of a tattoo of a misshapen satanic star symbol on his one eye and an animal skull on his torso. The accountant felt odd, as if he was leaving a part of himself behind. He thought that this must be the sensation of parting with ones soul. He was wrong however, as this was the sensation of parting with ones self. His pitiful life ended there, his body and soul serving only as a vessel for the demons ascension to Earth
The demon, the Torment, whose now human body had grown much torso hair, but retained the slick hair and designer stubble of his vessel, awoke in a cell in what appeared to be a high-security American prison, but this mattered not to the hell spawn creature, as he put his hands on two of the bars to his one man cell, and pulled the bars apart with the ease of a man moulding clay then stepped through. One of the prisons correctional officers saw this feat and decided to deal with this strange new one-eyed prisoner, who was oddly not wearing the usual orange jumpsuit of the Ziggurat, the ultra high security prison for the villains of both Paragon and the Rogue Isles. This particular guard was not about to take anything from some prisoner, as just last month he had been struck in the eye by a thorn from the escaped convict known as Wintergreen, meaning he had to take disinfecting eye-drops and wear a patch for some time.
Hey, you! Get back in your cell! He shouted running towards the escapee, truncheon in hand and ready to strike. The Torment just stared down this puny excuse for an enemy, and watched as he tried to beat him with a stick, but his futile efforts were blocked by the powers over the netherworld that the demon wielded. Once the Torments amusement faded, he struck the guard once in the chin and watched as he flew into the ceiling, breaking it and causing an alarm to go off. The sound of a thousand guards stomping around the prison with conviction for stopping him, and the sound of half the prison rioting around him based on this seemingly small action, brought a small, very quick smirk to the demons face as he realised, he was on Earth at last.
@Rooks
"You should come inside the box... Then you'll know what I mean."
Had this kicking around since January, so I thought I should probably post it. Let me know what you think
Origins of The Torment
A man, whose name is not important, lived a life of crookery and double dealing until the day of his death, where he made a deal with a devil which caused havoc, mayhem and Torment for the world.
The decrepit protagonist of foul dealings slammed the door to his shabby, damp apartment in the Rogue Isles with a large sense of self satisfaction; he had just conned himself a small fortune, or at least by his standards. He was an accountant, for one Miss Madeline Casey (among others), who was not only rich actress with thousands of fans, but was also a well known contact of the heroes of Paragon City. By falsifying the kind-hearted young womans invoices into depicting many expenses classed as charity donations, when in fact he was keeping the money for himself. He wiped his hand through his slick, jet black, side parted hair and let out a small snigger that he used a womans charitable nature as a way of embezzling without being discovered. A gambling man, he thought he would get a ferry to the St. Martial district and spend some time on the slot machines in the Golden Giza, just to add to his mockery of Miss Caseys ideals.
As he was sitting in the isles of the ferry, in between the two private security guards he hired from out of a phone book to help guard his bursting wallet, he reflected that he got away so cleanly that no cop or Hero will come to bring him to justice, and he sniggered to himself, sitting in his best (albeit cheap and shabby) suit. However, the irony of fate already had a plan for this two faced weasel, as his rented guards werent as legitimate as he expected.
They were wanted men, and a dispatch of the Rogue Isles P.D. was en route to intercept the ferry as it docked: to arrest them and any associates. As the ship pulled up to the side, the crooked accountants two crooked hired guns saw the squad car and thought it best they take a hostage for their escape, so they grabbed the weasely conman by the throat and proceeded out of the ferry. One of the two cops waiting outside fancied himself quite the marksman, and after the two perpetrators ignored his warnings, he opened fire on them, thinking he was good enough not to hit the hostage. He was wrong; hitting the hostage in the eye and killing him instantly, allowing the hired guns to escape, but not before they took the corpses wallet.
The now dead accountant, whose name is not important, descended into the dark depths of hell. He noticed that a black, leather eye patch had appeared over his fatal wound, before looking up and noticing the very large demon which he was laying in front of. If bodily functions existed in the afterlife, the slick haired man would have lost control of them. The demon stood in front of him, 20 foot tall and similar in appearance to a bipedal wolf save for its flaming eyes and glowing human-like arms, and looked down on the wreck laying in front of him with a cross between anger and disgust. The demon growled and clenched its fists, triggering the slick haired man lying at its feet to squeal Wait, Wait! Look we can make a deal right? I I really dont want to be here. I can do anything, anything, if you can just get me out of here; I got stuff to do up there. He pointed up, but saw nothing but black. The demon spoke, and in a voice so deep that the ground trembled with every word, but so dark and gritty it caused the accountants spine to tremble with each of the demons breaths. If you so wish, then I can put you back on Earth, but you must first, give me your soul. The demon paused mid-sentence as if to build tension, which considering this accountant (normally feeling nervous by the sight of anything with sharp edges) was lying in hell standing in front of a 20 foot demon, with hellfire burning his jacket to ash around his torso, was slightly unnecessary. Considering the circumstances, and the fact that he had been described as soulless by people before, coupled with the fact that he was too scared to think of the possibility this proposition may be not all it was cracked up to be, he thought that was a pretty good deal, I mean who needed a soul in the Rogue Isles anyway? He accepted this deal with silent enthusiasm, and the demon proceeded to perform the ritual both to claim his soul and to return him to Earth, where he could get some burn ointment. This ritual involved the branding of a tattoo of a misshapen satanic star symbol on his one eye and an animal skull on his torso. The accountant felt odd, as if he was leaving a part of himself behind. He thought that this must be the sensation of parting with ones soul. He was wrong however, as this was the sensation of parting with ones self. His pitiful life ended there, his body and soul serving only as a vessel for the demons ascension to Earth
The demon, the Torment, whose now human body had grown much torso hair, but retained the slick hair and designer stubble of his vessel, awoke in a cell in what appeared to be a high-security American prison, but this mattered not to the hell spawn creature, as he put his hands on two of the bars to his one man cell, and pulled the bars apart with the ease of a man moulding clay then stepped through. One of the prisons correctional officers saw this feat and decided to deal with this strange new one-eyed prisoner, who was oddly not wearing the usual orange jumpsuit of the Ziggurat, the ultra high security prison for the villains of both Paragon and the Rogue Isles. This particular guard was not about to take anything from some prisoner, as just last month he had been struck in the eye by a thorn from the escaped convict known as Wintergreen, meaning he had to take disinfecting eye-drops and wear a patch for some time.
Hey, you! Get back in your cell! He shouted running towards the escapee, truncheon in hand and ready to strike. The Torment just stared down this puny excuse for an enemy, and watched as he tried to beat him with a stick, but his futile efforts were blocked by the powers over the netherworld that the demon wielded. Once the Torments amusement faded, he struck the guard once in the chin and watched as he flew into the ceiling, breaking it and causing an alarm to go off. The sound of a thousand guards stomping around the prison with conviction for stopping him, and the sound of half the prison rioting around him based on this seemingly small action, brought a small, very quick smirk to the demons face as he realised, he was on Earth at last.
@Rooks
"You should come inside the box... Then you'll know what I mean."