Psychotic Polarity - Open

[Mokobo]

The light of sunset always seems brightest on the widest canvases.
Such was true on this particular nightfall. Even in the harsh terrain of the lava flows that fringed the Scapes there was a certain beauty to be noted. Warm hues of eventide sunlight illuminated clouds of noxious fumes that seeped from the earth. All about plumes of oranges and yellows and red poured forth to the sky in a collage of color. The clouds could almost be mistaken for autumn trees deep in the change of seasons. Thick miasmas, which mingled in mires that lingered between the freshest flows, seemed to radiant in the final kiss of the day. Slowly the sun made its descent toward the horizon, causing the new fresh flesh of ore and stone to glisten in certain areas.
It was on such untrod and treacherous of a landscape that the beast now strode. Sinuous muscles bulged beneath a pelt of jet black with each step. Age had not brought rust to the steel of the beast. Experience tempered his edge and rage brought forth the endless spirit that drove him even now. There was no doubt the years had left their mark however. His entire frame was a scroll of honor and glory, its ink the many scars that marred the near perfect black coat. Half an ear stood where a whole one once was, its mangled stub a testament to the darkest and most dismal of tales. Upon his right foreleg was the chief of his disfigurements, a warped patch of bare skin below the shoulder. That flesh bore a ghostly trait, its surface being a window to the tendons and ligaments below. All of these marks could occupy one's day in their stories, and yet it was the sound that carried with the beast that held the darkest of tales.
"Jingle, jangle, the dead shall dangle upon a dreary thread-"
His voice was as maimed as his body. Each eerie note echoed off the raised rivers of fresh stone and craters from which the vapors vented. Raspy and rough was each word, as if the very utterance was an effort. Yet the beast did not lack for breath. With a certain swagger he staggered through the mists and clouds of the volcanic land. With each step a clatter did occur, but rather from some wight of the past the sound came from a satchel strapped to the beast's side. The material seemed to be the skin of some long dead reptile, and it bulged from the contents hidden within. It was from there that the metallic rattle issued with each step the beast took. Such was a small concern however. Far were the concerns of the mortal world to the beast. Instead he focused on the wisps of old memories, even now they seemed to take form in the fiery shadows about him. To ward them off he continued his bawdy song.
"-Run quick to your darling's bed, for on the morn the rivers run red. Flee to their arms and their loving sigh, but with the sun you shall die-"
Even now he could see the shade of his own paramour. Heavy paws which bore claws of a glossy alloy paused upon the ground. Sharp spurs bit deep into the newborn ground as blood red eyes widened in shock. Before the beast stood a shadowy figure, slim and taunting as the shade that haunted his dreams. Slowly he shook his head, hoping to dispel the mirage that marauded his senses. Yet even when he lifted his gaze the figure remained, joined by two others which seemed to shine with auras of white and gold. As if he hoped to exorcise the demons before him, the beast raised his scarred head to the sky and bellowed out the final stanza of his black ballad.
"-FOR ALL SPIRITS MUST FLY! NOW DISAPPEAR INTO THE SETTING SKY!"
Yet even as the beast lowered his gaze from the the gloam of the setting sun, the shadows remained. All about him where whispering wraiths, each growing louder as they cried forth their complaints. Dragons and Druins and demons alike haunted around the small gorge of grief. Voices blended together, growing into a thundering turmoil as the final words of the song died in the beast's throat. First and foremost were the three shades, the first the beast had seen. The one in center took the form of his long lost love, a slender wisp of a valkyrie full of rage that seemed to grow as she strode forth. Even now her once beautiful face twisted and disfigured into a demonic facade full of spite and destruction. A scrabbling noise echoed off the veins of new stone as the beast retreated, long gouges in the earth marking where his claws bit down in their fright. However there was no escape for the betrayer, for the sentinels which had stood beside the valkyrie were now behind him.
As the beast backed into the hard, cold surface of a boulder old instincts took hold. With an agility that was astonishing for one of such age, he bounded backward with a twist. As the veteran of many a long battle regained his footing, those deadly paws grasped the rippled ground to slow his spin. In the blink of an eye the sack strapped to the side of the beast stirred. Several claws of the same mysterious alloy shot forth into the air, haloing around the beast for a moment as he surveyed the enemies all around. The golden and white sentinels loomed before him, growing ever larger as the shade of his love behind issued a rumbling laughter. On all sides of the beast were the rumbled chuckles of the dead, taunting him when the knew he could do no further harm. Slowly each claw hovered around the head of the beast, gleaming with the evening glow of the sunset. With a sudden roar those lethal darts shot forth.
Those wraiths the beast saw were but mere stones. The glowing sentinels which grew so large to his eyes were but simple mountains in the distance. Even miles away from the scene of such madness, their slopes took the forceful impact all the same. Dust rose in the distance, but such destruction was small compared to what the other shadows received. Three ragged pillars made from fast lava flows exploded debris as the metal claws shot through them. Yet the valkyrie's death was easily the finest. As the curve of the projectile bit into the flesh of fresh earth, it did not pass. Rather it sunk slowly into the stone as it began to glow a bright red. The beast took notice of his danger, leaping out of the way as the claw exploded with a loud pop. The crevasse it left in its wake squirted a stream of steaming magma. Heavy fumes poured forth from the burst vein of earth. A loud moaning sound seemed to accompany the gasses, and there was a certain voice to the noise.
When all around you burns, and taste is but ash, only then will you know peace.
With the words a large raven swooped from up on high. The clouds of this land hid the bird's descent, and it started the beast as it let loose its loud cry. Talons raked against his face, and the pain seared down into his mind. Yet when he raised his paw to touch his snout no blood was upon his scarred pads. Then came a reptile standing upon two legs with a mane of colorful feathers. The diminutive denizen of these dreary lands begged for its life, crying aloud the existence of a heart. The heart. It was known as the heart of the fire rivers. Hearts had always been the favorite meal of the beast.
As the memory of a certain battle in which he killed a dragon from within emerged, a smile crept upon his cracked lips. In an instant the memories and delusions disappeared as quickly as they had come. Those claws which he had cast forth, omitting the destroyed one, returned then. The furthest ones which had burrowed into the nearby mountains took the longest. As soon as the halo of deadly steel was complete again, each claw slid back into the satchel upon his side. Once the beast had retrieved his treasures, he assumed his assured swagger, striding forth as if nothing had happened. But he remembered, he always remembered.
"I should find a high ground." A rough laugh exploded from the beast before he finished his contemplation," These fumes might just be addling my mind."

[Thirteen]

You were the one who killed me. I tried to hold back, to grasp the few strands of life I still held, but you grabbed me from the abyss and pulled me down below. I screamed and writhed, trying desperately to escape your damning grip but deep down I knew that this was I wanted. I wanted to meet Death so I could flee the Hell you left me in. So I gave up fighting and let the dark swallow me whole. Was this what you wanted? Did you want my death? Perhaps our friendship never meant anything to you. Or perhaps it meant a great deal and you stole my life away so that we could reconnect in the Dead Land. If so, then I have learnt one thing about you; you are an incredibly selfish creature.

Such a deathly land Mordecai had found himself in. Flows of fire raged against the land, red fingers stretching out to grasp whatever they could to devour for their own sustenance. He found it intriguing that nature was greedy much like himself and the spirit soon found himself liking this burning country. He soon found himself chuckling as the lava engulfed yet another bush. And again. And again. Soon, Mordecai was laughing hysterically, urging the volcanic flows to show him more of its destruction. He yearned to learn its secrets, to steal valuable information so that he might use it against those who opposed him. Oh, how eager he was. To gain knowledge on Life and Death was to become like a God. And what a fantastic God Mordecai would be.

"-FOR ALL SPIRITS MUST FLY! NOW DISAPPEAR INTO THE SETTING SKY!" yelled a grating voice, disrupting the bizarre peace Mordecai had entered. A low growl rumbled from his chest as jet ears swivelled to identify where this disgusting voice had come from. The ghost decided to approach this swill and see what business he had disturbing the King of Nothing. So the man set off up the burning mountain, ebony paws stepping through various obstacles in his way. Eventually, he reached the spot where the cry had sounded from and found a man drenched in the coat of the night with various scars littering his torso. A monster, to put it shortly. Some beast had hollered at the top of his voice and Mordecai had thought this to be a dumb creature. Alas, he had found naught such a thing. Instead, there was a demon and as he knew, demons were always of the intelligent sort. Perhaps this one would be able to hear his oily voice as the wraith-king hissed, "And how does the savage fare today?"

"Dirty lies" • Foul thoughts

[Mokobo]

"What's this? A voice!"
It was a thought, but uttered aloud. Long had this despicable creature wandered many a land. What was the last voice he had heard? The lizard-folk? Please sire, I know nothin' else! No, their king had though. The third of such monarchs had he slain, but three is the lucky number to some. His luck had indeed taken a turn on that particular third stroke. The meat of a foe was the sweetest when tasted with victory. After his words the dark wolf would spin to face the orator to the offense upon his ears. For a moment the beast of a wolf licked his cracked lips as he surveyed the subject with a shrewd blood-red eye. Was this another spirit from the past come to haunt his waking moments? No, this one's voice echoed off the flowing stone all around. With a certain sneer of derision the beast would snort at the word 'savage'.
As in to give an answer the monstrosity would dance toward his visitor with an off-tempo sway. The sneer was gone now, replaced by an almost comical grin. Each step landed in tune with the next ballad that echoed out, his words mingling with the clink of his metallic claws upon the stone. "Little worms wriggle in the ground, they only come out for the rain. But the fisher waits for them to be found, and boy do the hooks bring pain." As the final word reiterated off the nearby lava-flows the smile would drop from the beast's lips. By now he would be mere steps from his visitor, ample distance to offer forth an introduction.
In the stead of kind words, the beast instead offered offense. With an exaggerated draw he spat at the ground in front of his visitor. It was then that maniacal expression would once more captivate his visage. Nearby the river of molten stone the beast had disturbed earlier gave another loud pop. As if taking that for some sort of applause, the beast let loose into barking sort of laughter. His rough voice was like rusted steel being torn apart. However this jubilation was short lived, and soon he stormed back toward the other beast with a determined short of gait. A sudden change had come across the twisted thing, his eyes no longer holding a malevolent mischief. In its stead there was a ferocious hunger which now appraised Mordecai as one would a piece of meat. When the beast next spoke it was not in a sing-song manner, but a rough dialect of the same voice.
"What do you want shade?" The last word was spoken with another defilement to the raw earth below. However the spittle of the beast was tinged with a bit of blood. Blood that held a glitter in the queer sunlight of the Scapes. Even now a glob lingered from the corner of the wolf's mouth. "Looking for something? Or someone perhaps?" There was another of those rough laughs of his, cold and hating in its every syllable.

[Thirteen]

Isn't Death such a gracious creature? It took my broken soul and pulled it apart, piece by piece, making sure each moment was incredibly agonising. I could not move. I could not scream. I was forced to endure this torture for what felt like aeons. There was no sweet release. No one could save me for no one knew where I was. Yes, yes I had died. I threw myself off the edge because you had grabbed me and drowned me in sorrow. And because of your greed, I now suffered silently. When Death finally had enough of playing with me, It threw me away into that abyss. For many years, I had been told of a paradise that stood above the clouds and I had accepted that as fact. Lies. All they told me was lies. How can I trust them after that?

"What's this? A voice!" exclaimed the dark beast. He turned rapidly to gaze upon the spirit. Mordecai straightened up and lifted his chin, his posture regal and dominating. Do just that. Admire me. But the man did the opposite of that. Instead, he snorted disdainfully before suddenly approaching Mordecai in a strange jig of sorts. The man no longer scowled but held a grin between his teeth. Words rang out in a sing-song, weaving in time with the clack of his claws. When the odd song of the futility of worms ended, the beast now stood a mere few steps away from Mordecai. The wraith expected a introduction from him but what came was anything but that.

The impudent fool took his time to dramatically rear back his head before throwing it forward, releasing a globule of spit. The saliva fell at his feet and had Mordecai owned a true body, he would have felt the wet drops upon his paws. Oh, how he raged. Such an insulting act. The man was a peasant! He could not act this way before the King! The spirit seethed silently as the beast mocked him with his laughter. Oh, how he wanted to punish this cretin! But the ghost held back on his magic, wishing to conserve his energy on one who deserved it.

The man suddenly changed his demeanour, shifting from a giggling maniac to a bloodthirsty hound.
"What do you want shade?" hissed the animal, spewing more befoulment upon the cracked earth. "Looking for something? Or someone perhaps?" Mordecai let his teeth bare as he snarled soundlessly. He was tempted to simply leave there and then but he knew this would give the beast the satisfaction of besting Mordecai, and being of the competitive sort, the eidolon refused to back down from this game.
"You would do well to treat me with respect," spoke the regal man, a dangerous edge to his voice. "I am old and have so much knowledge that your minuscule mind would not be able to comprehend." He carefully avoided the man's piercing questions, wanting to control the flow of conversation himself. "And what is a dirty creature such as yourself doing wandering the foulest of lands?"

"Dirty lies" • Foul thoughts

[Mokobo]

Silence captivated the beast as Mordecai spoke. For a moment he truly paid attention, but at the mention of respect all interest seemed to leave the beast. Absently he lifted a paw, pads turned up toward his blood-red gaze. Slowly he extended each of the curved, pointed claws. Their metallic surface shone brilliantly in the light of the lava flows despite the fumes and clouds all about. For a moment he occupied himself by using one of those deadly talons to pick at a scar between the pads of his paw. By now the other was inquiring to his business in these lands. For a moment Navlos pondered if this was truly not some shade of his mind. The foul miasma he had trudged through for the past day had begun to take a hold in his nostrils of late. With an exasperated sigh the beast would return his paw to the earth, rising to all fours before beginning to meander toward the nearest lava flow. His rasping voice rumbled out from his maw, each word heavy with boredom.
"Oh me? I'm a wandering bard, professional of course. I'm a professional tickler too. Tickle tickle tasty lizard king, tell me where it is. Write a good song and sing, perhaps my claws will give a kiss." As he launched into another ditty, the beast once more picked up his jig of a dance. However unlike the songs before, his first stanza was in that rough voice of his still. Each word dripped with a hunger that burned in his eyes. The wandering, jarring step of the beast began to bring him nearer to Mordecai's side, but for the moment he remained at a distance. The next lyrics he uttered were in a mocking, high-toned voice. "Please please mister beast, do not make our king into a feast! The Heart lies far away, toward the light of ending day! Over rivers of fire to lands torn apart, Please sire, have a kind heart!"
By now the beast of a wolf had jigged his was closer to the other creature. With no warning other than the flick of a tail he would charge toward Mordecai. Hulking muscles powered the aging warrior in an all out charge. However it was short lived, and a loud screech came as his claws tore into the rough ground beneath. The beast would grind to a halt a few paces away from the other, assuming they did not move. At a closer distance one might notice finer details about the deranged creature. The jet black pelt of his was flecked his grey, along with the tips of his ears. The irises of his eyes were indeed a shade of red, but it was a warm hue tainted by the many veins spider-webbing across each orb. Such eye were those of the sleepless and the mad. As he finished his ballad the beast once more used his normal voice. However there was no melody to his mantra.
"Hush now my tiny snacks, there'll be no try and tussle. My heart is tainted black, but your's are delicious muscles." As he finished his bloody chant a sudden fit took hold of the beast. Quickly he bent to the side as his chest heaved with a violent cough. After hacking for a moment the offending glob of bloody mucus was spat off to the distance. After such an act, Navlos would turn toward the other and offer a sinister smirk. A trickle of blood remained on the fure around his lips, offering an odd glitter in the light. "So what do you think of my newest song shade? I wrote it after I tickled a lizard who spoke to me of respect."