Archenemy
Posted Aug 20, 2018 13:55:47 GMT -7
Post by Karma on Aug 20, 2018 13:55:47 GMT -7
Even when the wind blew harshly against Karma's side, ruffling his hair in the process, the man refused to remove his eyes from the man that crawled on the ground away from him. He screamed, thrashed on the ground in pure agony but refused to stay anywhere in the proximity of the redhead—at least not after what he had done to him. The old man was essentially set on fire, his entire clothed torso ignited in flames, the wind only contributing to a graver heat.
"Pl-please... someone! Help! Get this crazy man away from—" The poor old man cried out as he crawled inside the entrance of the gates. This prompted Karma to glance up, his grin ceasing for a moment as he studied the kingdom that stood before him. Nostalgia. The memories it brought only made the man sick, his status as a prince making him sick for not having a kingdom of his own. Still, it was surprising that he had walked in the direction of an entire kingdom this entire without much notice. He had been so occupied by the pleasure of torturing this man that he had failed to notice the amount of walking he had done.
Yes, all that aimless walking. Karma wasn't the kind to stroll around forests, he barely enjoyed traveling on foot, yet this whole ordeal had started by him taking a quite random stroll in the woods. Well, not as random as he'd like to think it was. The scabbard of his blade was quite a mess from the last battle, a full-on war he had waged against an entire entity, leaving him in a seriously depressed state. He had gotten some dirt on his clothes, perhaps even experienced a bit of pain here and there. Yet nothing was as gravely relevant as the scratch he had gotten on the hilt of his blade. So, he had decided to find a small workshop or blacksmith of some sort to fix it. Of course, it hadn't taken long before he had arrived in some weird village that he had found an old man, supposedly a professional blacksmith but really just asking for a death sentence. Karma had requested he fix the small blemish to which the elder had boasted about adding detail to, sharpening and even polishing.
"Just get this fixed, old man. It doesn't need any refinement from a peasant." Karma had spit, the slang of the modern age still lingering on his tongue. The elder, accommodated to the tradition of elders being respected no matter what, had reacted negatively and insulted the redhead's status to which he had quickly regretted. Cause in a matter of a few seconds, Karma's fire paired with the breeze of the day had come to pose an enormous threat to the entire village. Of course, the old man had scrambled to get away, had managed to run all the way to the main palace of the kingdom before slumping in flames and essentially crawling his way to the gates.
Which brings us back to the present: Karma standing behind the man, his blade thrust into the fragile body as guards watched in hesitation. His eyes were stoic but his smile was inevident, a smirk crossing his face to show how uncaring he was and how much enjoyment he was getting out of this. The blade remained for a while as Karma shut his eyes, his expression switching to a serious one for a second as he made short prayers over the man's demise.
"Pl-please... someone! Help! Get this crazy man away from—" The poor old man cried out as he crawled inside the entrance of the gates. This prompted Karma to glance up, his grin ceasing for a moment as he studied the kingdom that stood before him. Nostalgia. The memories it brought only made the man sick, his status as a prince making him sick for not having a kingdom of his own. Still, it was surprising that he had walked in the direction of an entire kingdom this entire without much notice. He had been so occupied by the pleasure of torturing this man that he had failed to notice the amount of walking he had done.
Yes, all that aimless walking. Karma wasn't the kind to stroll around forests, he barely enjoyed traveling on foot, yet this whole ordeal had started by him taking a quite random stroll in the woods. Well, not as random as he'd like to think it was. The scabbard of his blade was quite a mess from the last battle, a full-on war he had waged against an entire entity, leaving him in a seriously depressed state. He had gotten some dirt on his clothes, perhaps even experienced a bit of pain here and there. Yet nothing was as gravely relevant as the scratch he had gotten on the hilt of his blade. So, he had decided to find a small workshop or blacksmith of some sort to fix it. Of course, it hadn't taken long before he had arrived in some weird village that he had found an old man, supposedly a professional blacksmith but really just asking for a death sentence. Karma had requested he fix the small blemish to which the elder had boasted about adding detail to, sharpening and even polishing.
"Just get this fixed, old man. It doesn't need any refinement from a peasant." Karma had spit, the slang of the modern age still lingering on his tongue. The elder, accommodated to the tradition of elders being respected no matter what, had reacted negatively and insulted the redhead's status to which he had quickly regretted. Cause in a matter of a few seconds, Karma's fire paired with the breeze of the day had come to pose an enormous threat to the entire village. Of course, the old man had scrambled to get away, had managed to run all the way to the main palace of the kingdom before slumping in flames and essentially crawling his way to the gates.
Which brings us back to the present: Karma standing behind the man, his blade thrust into the fragile body as guards watched in hesitation. His eyes were stoic but his smile was inevident, a smirk crossing his face to show how uncaring he was and how much enjoyment he was getting out of this. The blade remained for a while as Karma shut his eyes, his expression switching to a serious one for a second as he made short prayers over the man's demise.