Post by Ripley Maddox on Dec 15, 2016 5:50:58 GMT
“I’ve come to realize something over the years. The details of how I became what I am today seem to have gotten a little blurry since that day. I know that I had a nice little chat with my old buddy Philip on that fine… Monday? I don’t really even remember the exact date. Frankly, sometimes I remember it one way and the next time I’ll remember it another. Sometimes I’m sitting on a hill and sometimes I find myself in an old abandoned building with nothing my lovely swords and the handmade clothes on my back. But every time I reminisce about that time there are certain details that never change. And it all happened thanks to one bad day.”
Rolling fields of wild, unkempt grass stretched for miles in every direction. The sky was perfectly clear with nary a cloud in sight. Pale light shone down from the moon and the stars glimmered like jewels etched into the very heavens themselves. It was a beautifully picturesque sight that would’ve fired the blood of anyone with eyes to see the majesty on display. Surely this would be something to lift the spirits of even the most destitute of souls.
Unfortunately, there are some that have simply fallen too far for anything to bring happiness.
The figure staggering forlornly through the fields did so with unseeing eyes. His lips were dry, his hair greasy and unwashed, and a small bush hung from his chin and cheeks. The clothing wrapped about his frame—once a splendid, immaculate uniform—was now little more than a few ragged scraps that did little to preserve his decency and even less to hold the chill air at bay. The only sign of the noble warrior that had once been was the magnificent sheathe blade strapped to his back. How long the wretch had walked was difficult to say, though it was clear that he’d all but given up on living.
“I’ll kill them,” Ripley muttered. “I’ll kill them all. Every single one of them. There won’t be even one left when I finish the deed. They’ll all pay for what they did.” He staggered on, determined to reach the capitol before his strength failed him. There was nothing left for him in this world, but he would ensure that his passing into the long night was not a quite one.
((OOC Notes: Backdated to just a few weeks after the Genocide. This is Ripley's first meeting with the Mad God.))
Rolling fields of wild, unkempt grass stretched for miles in every direction. The sky was perfectly clear with nary a cloud in sight. Pale light shone down from the moon and the stars glimmered like jewels etched into the very heavens themselves. It was a beautifully picturesque sight that would’ve fired the blood of anyone with eyes to see the majesty on display. Surely this would be something to lift the spirits of even the most destitute of souls.
Unfortunately, there are some that have simply fallen too far for anything to bring happiness.
The figure staggering forlornly through the fields did so with unseeing eyes. His lips were dry, his hair greasy and unwashed, and a small bush hung from his chin and cheeks. The clothing wrapped about his frame—once a splendid, immaculate uniform—was now little more than a few ragged scraps that did little to preserve his decency and even less to hold the chill air at bay. The only sign of the noble warrior that had once been was the magnificent sheathe blade strapped to his back. How long the wretch had walked was difficult to say, though it was clear that he’d all but given up on living.
“I’ll kill them,” Ripley muttered. “I’ll kill them all. Every single one of them. There won’t be even one left when I finish the deed. They’ll all pay for what they did.” He staggered on, determined to reach the capitol before his strength failed him. There was nothing left for him in this world, but he would ensure that his passing into the long night was not a quite one.
((OOC Notes: Backdated to just a few weeks after the Genocide. This is Ripley's first meeting with the Mad God.))
