NationStates Jolt Archive

The slow strobe of city nightlife faded in and out through the glossed window like the taunting allure of some siren of ages past. Bits of light coalesced and compounded, refracting into a display as varied as the metropolitan populous. The variable rainbow crept along the wall slowly at first then faster and faster until some point of termination was reached and it jumped back to its start like some outdated typewriter. Globules of rain crept in random chaotic patterns down the illuminated glass, adding their own twists to the light pouring through. As if to match the constant whir of humanity in the streets below the sky slowly bellowed with thunder above.

“Do you believe in God?” inquired a man in a damp suit, his hair matted about his middle aged face. Bits of water followed the newly forming wrinkles in predictable patterns about his eyes and mouth. A distinct and musty odor rose from him, like he had been kept in the closet for a day too long.

“Why do you ask?” responded another man, a bit larger but many years older, his face already consumed by wrinkles just taking shape on the other’s. The light slowed ebbed its way across his face, and retracted as quickly as it had come, another line in a city’s story. His clothes were simple but filled with a robustness that seemed to cling to them from youth long passed.

The suited man looked up from his long spindly fingers, “A simple question, I do, yet I do not.”

The old man had known this figure for about a month, when he had arrived at the door with the inquiry of city hall. The old man had served a fair share of his years ducking through the traps and fighting the battle that was politics and was used to those who desired… inspiration. This man had been different however, he knew the web well, but played the fool. Not wanting to disappoint the old man played the fool and advised him in matters of the people, “I… do believe in god… but what… do you mean?”

The figure continued to stair, his hard eyes seemed to darken with each moment, “I believe God exists and he poured all his power, all his brilliance into us, humanity.” The figure surveyed the room he had come to know over the past weeks, every facet of the dull room, home to a dull existence. “We were born with all the brilliance of God within us, but we have grown, we have become more than he ever could have, more than he could have dreamed!” he sputtered with a sudden fervency not seen before. He fixed his eyes upon the old man before him, “We have become God.”

The old man seemed to shrink at this, he had known this man to be someone of odd origin and deceptive nature, but he had never truly felt it was a detriment to him. Now something was being revealed, a final hand, the winning hand worth the whole pot. His tired eyes met the figures and he mumbled with a voice lost, his eyes falling to the floor, “Leave, my council to you has ended.”

“And so has mine to you, I hope you shall find peace,” with that the old man looked up to a metal thing, a metal thing with a single black abyss that had doomed millions.

The old mans eyes quivered, “Why?”

“I do not know, and I am sorry.”

A single shot rang out through the building, a definitive snap. Death took many forms and many sounds, and now it was of a bullet tearing flesh asunder. The sirens of the city below grew louder and many lights began to flash through the window below at a manic pace. Soon the law was within the room, but only a single dead man remained.

OOC: So no real way to reply to his, but OOC comments are fine. I plan to make numerous posts that hint to what Purus Ordinatim is and to set up the mood of... "it." Possibly a bit of story here or there for people to join in, but my first interactions RP's will probably be in someone else's thread. Feel free to RP the cops or something if you really want to though.

ooc: Good opening post. Very interesting....and excellent grammar! This thread could go a couple of different ways, and I would be interested in adding to wherever you take it.

Sort of a pseudo-religious underground passive rebellion thing?

OOC: Agreed... excellent opening post and a well-planned opening to the RP. I'm curious... have you played this game before?

Someone sent me this link a couple of nights ago because it was such a great post.

The city was alive. It was a living breathing thing, an immense creature that beat with the lives of a thousand microbes, humanity. People went about their business, in the same matter a bacterium may break down a bit of cellulose, they did their job. Just as a person would die without the aid of a billion cells, so would this city fade to mere bones without humanity to bring life to its stiff limbs. The chaos was unmatchable.

Yet within this riot that was life, a single figure moved, seemingly out of sync with everything about him. The figure stalked up a side avenue, rain soaking his massive dark overcoat plastering it to his thing frame, like paper Mache over a set of shifting wires. He had dropped the gun blocks back, where to massive man made canyons met. The machine of death was likely in the hands of some lawless individual who would never note it lacked a single bullet.

The solemn concrete and brick walls of the poor residential area gave way to the garish neon signs that made up the red light district. “Wares” of all sorts paraded among groups of thugs, laughing over the last helpless individual they had laid low. A series of gunshots rang out from an alley, followed by screams. The figure was not here for earthly delights, however. Among the sagging crack houses and strip bars stood a single small dilapidated church. The cross hung at an angle over a rotting steeple. Raucous graffiti adorned the same spot holy slogans should have.

The man approached the small structure and pushed its door inward. It stopped abruptly on something warm and soft. An addict laid sprawled on the floor, convulsing in some hallucinogenic dream. The old priest the figure had come to know as Dominique was desperately attempting to attend to the man.

Dominique desperately pressed the number nine nine one into a clunky outdated phone. His torn ear pressed against the headset, “Damnit, oh forgive me lord for I have cursed, it’s busy!” Dominique looked up at the figure, “Oh, thank the lord, you’re here Gregory!” He shot and enraged towards the miniscule alter, a dark shadow of a man sat in the front pew, head lowered, “That… demonic figure refuses to save this man, he insists it is his time!”

A terrible frown came to Gregory’s face, he knew this man would die this night, for he could offer no aid, it was willed. Gregory moved to open his mouth when a voice came from the front pew, “Gregory, we have more pressing matters to attend to, more weaving must be carried out.” Gregory’s eyes watered slightly, and he turned from the priest and the dying man, leaving them to fate, to God.

“How can you simply let a man die!” shrieked the priest as a massive bloody mass was regurgitated on him by the addict.

Without breaking stride Gregory released a monotone reply, “It is his time.”

A few moments later Gregory took a seat next to the shadow, the rotting wood creaking under him. There was a slight pop, a single cockroach caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. Gregory slowly turned his head to the cloaked figure, “He is calling the police…”

“Do not worry, that call will never get through… I’ve redirected everything that comes from this church to more… secure sources,” replied the figure with a smile, barely visible behind the shadow granted from the cloak. The man moved his hands up in an abrupt motion, pulling the hood back. A young man, barely in his twenties with golden blond hair and dark tan hair emerged. One would much sooner expect to find him on the golden sands of some beach rather that in a dark rotting church. With a smirk he spoke, “It’s good to see you have not lost your nerve with age Gregory.”

“What would you have me do, Master White.”

OOC: Not as good as the first one, meh. Thanks for the compliments. Also Sarz, as much as I would love to say I am new, and be the uber newbie, I have posted before, but not much.