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“Human flesh is like art, nobody likes it until you put something on it, take something off it, or hang it on a wall.”
GENERAL INFORMATION
Name(s): Shakku
Nickname(s): Osiris' Butcher, Ursa Boner (hue)
Age: 28
Gender: Lvl 37 attack helicopter (Male)
Birthday: August 23
Sexuality: Bi
Rank: D (huehue)
Guild: None for now
Tattoo: Left arse cheek, (Color: Mint Teal)
Face Claim: Xanxus - Katekyo Hitman Reborn
APPEARANCE
Height: 6'2
Weight: 197 Ibs
Hair: Incineration Black
Eyes: Paper cut red
Description: From his left temple, spread across the cheekbone lies a terrible scar resembling a flame pattern at first sight look with a faux skin commonly worn by shakku. His skin tone two shades darker than a beige color, and the faux skin two shades darker than that, his scar is that of a man missing his cheek. The part of his face hiding every pink and white organism inside his mouth, gums, tongue, and teeth included.
His favorite ear jewelry, best described as "phoenix feathers" is kept on his left ear to maybe draw away the wandering gaze of anyone he meets when his scars are not covered. At 6'2, losing both legs for Shakku would still give him a little more than half his height, and just enough of it to fit in like freddie kruger at the kiddie table. His body is kept fit, a six pack of stones to match his rock hard pectorals, his skin though dark in color slightly smoother than leather. His shoulders muscular enough to carry a mountain, or just a large rock on the mountain, and his legs toned enough to fast walk the hell out of the rock to the mountain’s bottom, without stopping more than twice.
His lungs, though in peak condition for his age only just above average and less impressive than what they could have been had time been spent more on fixing his physical conditions. Shakku’s most commonly adorned clothes are three piece suits, all the same colors, with the exception of one reverse colored (black inside, white outside), only worn on hump day. If applicable his dark hair could serve as skewers for barbecue with enough of a fade around the edges to protect him from spontaneous combustion...cause fades are cool nowadays.
His shoes stay shiny, and in black, and always make a clapping noise whenever they caress the pavement, which tends to happen often when being chased by authorities and women who ask for autographs, especially the ones who already have twelve in their purse but just need one more to pay for their rent off of magical ebay, or whatever the equivalent would be.
Other scars include four vertical large incisions on his abdomen, from his pectoral to his waist-caused by organ swapping and/or removal. And multiple mini incisions like stretch marks on his back caused by the draining of fluid from purposely injected malignant growths.
PERSONALITY
Personality: You know that guy who paid his taxes? You know, the guy who then went off to adopt puppies over seas, and hold the door for everyone he didn't even know, and the angriest thing he's ever done is write someone a letter about how they were being rude to him whilst managing to use "I statements" the whole way through. He even has the audacity to put things like "I still respect and like you as an individual" at the end in a "PS" section (Nobody uses PS sections BTDubs).
Shakku is not that guy, nor is he the lord pig or lord pig’s servants that the tax guy managed to falsify taxes for, in order to aid the laundering of jewels, to hire 'muscle' which would then fail to rough up shakku's 'defenseless' establishment, dubbed 'Basement Moss'. You see, Shakku's dream was to be a chef, and even when that failed because of some guy named xun, he managed to make up for it by running a successful bar in the poor section of his home town Kuert, A settlement located to the southwest region inside fiore, where even the best mages wouldn't go, not because of some insignificant fear of death, or everyone is too strong, both things that welcomes all sorts of weirdos you might find running the streets and alleyways at night, but what really keeps the mages away is a fear of losing money somehow.
When you enter Shakku's bar, he greets you, and the courtesy of his greeting ranges upon the tab you've left at the bar, a cheerful boyscout nonetheless to those who pay exceedingly well, and an mr.krabss to those who've run their tab. Despite all the profanity, Shakku is the guy who has a large basement space beneath the bar to accommodate people like "that guy who does taxes." Shakku is the type of guy to ensure the basement is nice a dark space, accommodating to various eye sight needs, as well as privacy.
Shakku is considerate to an outstanding degree, making sure that lord pig is comfortable on a chair of rusty hook nails, and a thick rope 'coat' to match- gotta fight that breeze somehow! Shallow screams of inebriated lords, with a frail ego and perverse interest in children or harming children, tend to not be heard by the jubilous laughter of each drunk and happy bar patron above, just enough alcohol on the house to make anyone forget who was even there.
Shakku is the type of guy to take extreme measures when his establishment is threatened because of a so called lack of and need for protection against half of what a true nobleman should be, but legitimate threats to his establishment are reasonably worked out by timely made payments, how the jewels were assessed isn't of importance. Since the law and many righteously goofy do gooders choose to stay far away from the town of Kuert, especially the city’s mischievous half, protecting his establishment with justice takes a sensible turn to a case by case method. For lord pig, Shakku makes each necessary accommodation to serve his friend a special dinner.
Tonight the royal accountant will be savored, his spine expunged and back cut into the finest sirloin, with boiled oysters and seared sausage to match. Since Shakku is so caring, each spasticly forced moment can be savored as the fork that caresses both lord pig's and shakku's hands, carries the remaining ligament from a carefully carved back tendon to his friend's mouth. The introduction followed by playing a game of joust with the fork carrying the first taste of the delicious meal, his tightly shut lips and jaw prodded at playfully with the fork and food, before nearly prying a four pronged scar into his friend's lips, and nearly plunging the fork past the lord's adam's apple with just enough moisture and vomit lubricating the mouth, he shoves in the mystery accountant meat, withdrawing this fork so that the meat could embrace the lord’s tongue in privacy.
It was never understood why the nobleman refused shakku’s fine cooking. Either his lips were shut from lockjaw caused by the rusty nail hook seat and tetanus, or he just didn’t appreciate the food. Either way, shakku appreciates the little things, like the thought that lord pig’s lockjaw mouth couldn’t be opened back up to spit out the meat, and the content lord would choke on his vomit, or if he tried to spit the meat out another piece would be shoved in just as swiftly. By taking the time to appreciate the little things, even the smells can be admired over the duration of weeks, months even; way past the point where decayed flesh has a texture reminiscent of the spongy cake that commonly forms above old caffeinated drinks.
But with thrift, shakku thinks ahead. Much like the drinks, the content below the surface is still good for consumption, it just needs a nutrient sapping reheating. Shakku has so much consideration in his heart, every single bite his pig friend couldn't finish was sent home to the small lord’s tower a short ways outside of the town, with the lord himself put into a cute little package. He even attached a letter, but shakku’s memory is very attuned to those who have meant to cause him harm, and learned long ago, if you really care about someone enough to send them a letter, leave it blank.
Motivations:
Life: It's so precious, yet throughout the world, it is treated second hand, like mixing up your gloves before putting them on(eww). This simple fact has driven Shakku in circles until he came upon a solution. His purpose in life of opening a bar had been achieved at a younger age than current, of course through questionable means, but life never says how you should reach your goal. With this, Shakku has spent most of his life terrorizing people in his basemen- Helping people realize their goals and where they aim to be the next day, whether that's from street to neat, or scumbag to an anonymous bar patron's lunch.
Death: Like any other person realizing their humanity, which is oddly similar to Shakku telling someone that he doesn't slaughter animals when they are clearly three-quarters through their burger and they question what type of meat they consumed, he tells them it is meat substitute that grows on his basement walls, hence his bar name basement moss(not weird at all). The thought of death is more than enough to keep shakku on his feet and worried, but more times than not he can get himself caught in obscure thoughts around death.
Clearly not knowing what happens to all those petty lords he had been passed around by like a bucket of popcorn was intimidating, but in the end everything was alright because most, if not all of them, ended up in his basement as meat to be fed to the next, and off to where their spirit may be judged by one or all who have the right to. These thoughts are terrible because the events they describe might happen to him one day, but until then, he can only live every moment outrageously to it's limit, and hope the person chopping him up feeds him to a hard-working citizen, deserving of his meat...
Money: Makes the world go nuts yo, and in a circular motion as well. But, material wealth obviously isn't the goal for this young man, not at all. "Money is simply one half of the equation to a text-book definition of power, and everyone tends to seek themselves out a little slice of it" or so shakku's father once told him. So technically, it would be a thirst for power that motivates him, but you can never have too much money, and you wouldn't have any power without any money.
People:(spoilers, I said the word "Hell". Not sure if that's considered naughty. oops.) As weird as it sounds, an accumulation of money is one thing, but the other half of that power equation is people. Hell, with enough people you have some power. But money, and accumulated people? Now that's real power. With the number of dead lords and accountants alike in his basement, whether the accumulation of people has to be alive or dead is clearly not determined by shakku, oh well.
Adventure: Every child has had a whimsical sense of adventure, but when you live in the poorest place in your town, you practically are in an adventure 22/7, the other two hours are actual fleeting moments of joy you may or may not get including but not limited to: getting mugged by the homeless, young sexual predation(predatoration? predatorism?), working your way up through a criminal underworld, and a desire to poison your former bosses after you spit in there food, of course, always after.
A Brighter Future: Let's say, theoretically if this young entrepreneur managed to snag some dough, and gathered a posse, what would he do with the so called power? Well, he has a bar now, which is currently run by his four most trusted brothers in former and occasional bondage, but shakku wants something more. His main goal is to make his hometown as prestigious and unsegregated as any other place in all of fiore. He had the misfortune of being self raised and was taught very little of emotions, but if he can improve the living conditions of his small hometown, it could be a greater place for those who are soon to come after him. He hopes that maybe being raised there won't have to be a gamble, maybe having no parents just means you have to find some new ones, actual caring people with morals and unconditional love, people fit to raise and mentor a child.
Restaurant/Bar Monopolization: Having one bar, simply isn't enough? Of course not, in order to learn what it truly means to be a good chef, shakku left his bondage bros behind. His hopes were of gathering enough knowledge, skill, and wealth to move to the next step in culinary life, monopolizing his bar into a chain of restaurants and bars called 'Basement Moss', guaranteed discount if you can guess the meat of the day.
Fears:
Mold: True story, mold sets off shakku's allergies, and it's definitely not good for cooking. The bare sight of such a thing mingles in Shakku's brain with the thought of making Broccoli Cheddar Soup, and you get Broccoli Cheddar Soup, because the cheese used to make it already has mold on it; with that information, the only new ingredient would be Shakku's stomach contents.
Cheese and dairy: That brings us to our next item(s) of scorn. Yes, simple cheese and other dairy products bring more feelings of vertigo and wooziness because of it’s natural mold content and even those products without it cause fear in shakku beacuse he has a belief set in his mind that cheese and dairy products are molded. But it's not like Shakku hasn't cooked with dairy before, he can cook anything...either lactose intolerantly or with a side of vomit, customer's choice.
Meat: If it's meat, shakku doesn't eat it. If it isn't from humans, shakku would rather not cook it. Killing animals was always a thing to ponder about. After killing his first lord that he was traded to by convincing the servants into a temporary alliance, to poison his food. The lord that he swore to serve, was sending him off again as a trade offering, so shakku started cooking human meat, and served it to those lords he wanted to kill so that he could free their servants and not leave his currently sworn lord before getting his vengeance. Shakku then saw it as a good method to intimidate and then almost habitually murder petty lords. He just a little cwazy.
Heights: Hey, for a tall person falling is serious stuff yo. Its just an inability to stand, fall, sit, eat, read, or sleep while in high places and while moving in high places. A build up of 'butterflies' which do not help keep Shakku afloat, swell up in his stomach. It definitely makes falling to your death less pleasant, and overall a worse experience, in which he gives a sarcastic 10/10.
Poverty: Through Shakku's point of view, greed can keep you alive longer than anything else-even fearing death would kill you with a headache or heart attack rather than keep you living. Simply put, when you really want to live you'll do things without question, without conscience, maybe without memory or that could be an end result-in many cases for Shakku it unfortunately has. In his past if you couldn't make friends with silence and your own solitude, you don't want to live that badly, and when you don't want to live that badly, your last mistake would be to talk.
Likes:
Power: It has its perks and everything about it is as promising as freshly wrapped candy. Like anything else shakku likes, an actual representation of it attracts him, whether that is people with dangerous displays of physical force, taking tactical advantage of an opponent- a shift of power, and even mental power- mind games and intimidation are all forms of power than shakku finds admirable. The exception to this would be an excessive use against someone literally unable to take the excessive power, which goes against shakku’s hypocritical beliefs of corruptness(a mage taking the force of a punch with the power of a nuke is acceptable, a citizen or fairly weaker mage(or a passive mage alternatively) taking a punch with the power of a nuke and then five more of it’s caliber, is unacceptable). Everything people don't like about power, they just haven't tasted enough of.
Relaxing: Though it is common for shakku to get lost in fragile dream he calls an adventure, he enjoys the time he can take to just rest and close himself off from the world around him. As closing his eyes works against him when his immersion into the real world is too deep, he simply can’t manage to slip away most time. Closing his eyes allows him to become even more attentive to the world around him, so any chance he gets to take in a view, or just the world moving at its naturally slow pace, he makes sure to cherish it.
Accommodating customers: When people stop liking things, its problematic. Everyone has a preference, and when shakku gotta make money, those preferences will most definitely be met as long as the end result is profit. Seeing that the customer is properly accommodated, sees shakku some nice money, which sees a huge smile of his deformed face.
The ground: If its in the air, its looking at the air, if it even remotely touches the air, shakku has a natural aversion to such a thing. So the ground is bae, ground is bae.
Fighting: Bar owners tend to know their way around a fight, or broken bottle, or knife, or bat, or magic. Most times shakku feels that a fight would be a pain to clean but, if anything’s broken insurance always comes around, plus they tend to attract a mighty large crowd and the thought of knocking someone out to rightly steal their wallet is a bonus.
Boobs or Butt: Butt yo, but a nice rack or some manly sculpted abs and pectorals ain't hurt nobody.
Dislikes:
Staring: When people stare at shakku's scars it gives shakku a feeling of isolation. He is a handsome man, or so he tells himself, and at times it is comforting when he can see it as a form of unique character, but most times people staring almost certainly drives shakku to the brink of hitting individuals despite his wish to be passive, in matters not concerning finances.
Greed: In an almost hypocritical manner, anyone who is greedy besides Shakku can suck a big ‘mystery basement wall meat burger’ (trademarked). If everyone's getting rich from a job, shakku has a problem- he needs to be richer than the rest. Of course his reasoning is even more absurd, retorts such as "I'll put it to better use," and "you couldn't handle that type of power if it dangled and/or laid between your legs." are common.
Air: And I quote "If I managed to somehow not breath it in but fall through it instead, i'd say it's cool as long as i'm not dead. Dead or not though, it's not cool." Even a breath of air is intimidating because of the thought that allergy agitating dust might be in it. A fear of heights, air that isn’t inhaled, sky when it’s not far away, things that float, all of the above, shoved into the generalization of ‘air’, tend to be disliked.
Unsanitary things: Dust, Dirt, and Mold don't wurk, because of shakku’s allergies, which may be his most deadly weakness. He also believes a proper chef to be the one who washes everyone's hands with flesh curdling hot water.
Cleanliness: Is also a no no. The general idea is cool with shakku, but the aura people who are too clean tend to have only reminds shakku that they might be trying to wash away something, and not all of the dirt we jump in can be cleaned so easily. Which brings us to...
Tyrants: The general rule with this one is, "you have more money than me, and I got evidence that you won't spend it on my...services, then I just don't like you in secret, till i'm paid." of course, shakku doesn’t say that to individuals with money who isn't spending their money because they may come around after some specific bodily friction. Money gives people power through his eyes, and power corrupts when you can't find anything to do with so much of it, so giving it away is the only solution.
Eating: As a chef, watching other people eat is our spiritual bread and butter, as well as our bread and butter. Eating in itself for the chef on the other hand is more of a nuisance than anything else people tend to label the consumption of food. People tend to stare differently and more frequently when Shakku eats because of his facial disfigurement. Even with his faux skin on, eating is impossible without people staring. Soup just spills out through the gap in his cheek before reaching his throat, or pushes the faux skin out of place like a bookcase trapdoor that spins, unless he tilted to the side of his face that doesn’t have a gap in it and drank the soup. With that exception, he would still look weird because people don’t do that.
Positive Characteristics:
- Fortitude (+3):You are tougher than normal. You can take more hits than the regular Joe.
Explanation: Players have a C-rank endurance buff passively - Enhanced Strength (+3): Your character is slightly stronger than other characters when it comes to physical strength.
Explanation: Players have C-rank strength buff passively. - Blindsight (+4): Using senses such as acute hearing and sensitivity to vibrations, you detect the location of opponents who are no more than five feet away from you. Darkness and Invisibility are irrelevant, though you cannot detect non corporeal beings.
Explanation: Self Explanatory. - Diehard (+2): You can remain conscious after attacks that would fell others.
Explanation: Allows for 1 A-Rank spell to be shrugged off. Damage is still applied, but no pain is shown. Limit of once per battle.
Negative Characteristics:
- Dependent (-3): (The 'Basement Moss' Bar he plans to run in the city of Roncello, the four staff members he brought to manage it) You have a ward or charge that depends on you, usually a young child or elderly relative that needs you to provide for them and devote at least part of your time to them. In money terms, this will cost you five percent of your jewels a month. You may also be required to stay near home often in case you are needed.
Explanation: You will be placed on a list and at the end of the moment five percent of your jewels will be deducted. - Allergies (-1): (Dust and Mold) You are afflicted with allergies. These may be something as simple as hay fever, but the reactions to such will result in something like a huge bout of sneezing and gasping. You must mention this allergy in your character application.
Explanation: Whenever this allergy comes into play you must suffer the consequences. The allergy must be something that can actually come and not something strange and unique. - Bad Reputation (-1): (A reputation of people socializing with Shakku, disappearing. I guess it's spooky.) You have a reputation that angers or frightens people. Examples include being unlucky, petty, or cruel. The rep may or may not be accurate, but in either case, word travels faster than you do.
Explanation: You can't communicate easily with non player characters. Somehow they've heard of you and the things they've heard weren't too good - Branded (-2): (The crime of forcing cannibalism upon others, main reason for being branded) You have fled for a crime committed and now have a prominent brand. You may have been a criminal, a slave, or some other such illicit individual. The brand is such that it cannot be easily covered, and a cursory search reveals it each time. Law enforcement agents of any lawful land will immediately take you into custody if they see the mark, for extradition or imprisonment. It is your choice as to whether or not you were falsely accused of the crime.
Explanation: You have a visible sign on your body that can not be hidden. This sign reveals itself clearly when you are in the presence of Rune Knights which will allow them to freely arrest you. Every time you get arrested you must pay a fine to the local authorities to get out. Resisting arrest will result into a larger fine. - Lecherous (-1): (hue) You have a lusty nature and a tendency to pursue the pleasures of the flesh. A woman or a man (however your tastes run) is an almost irresistible temptation to you. You give in to these temptations easily.
Explanation: If fighting or RPing with someone of your sexual preference, you must act lecherous towards them once every three posts. - Dark Secret (-1): (Kills people in his basement that he believes are bad, feeds them to other bad people.) You have some sort of secret that, if revealed, would make you an outcast amongst your society and companions. While this secret is on your mind at all times, it will come up in topics only once in a while, but when it does, watch out!
Explanation: You must think about your dark secret at least one out of ten posts. When things that are relevant to the dark secret are brought up you can't stop thinking about it. - Disfigurement (-2): (Hideous Facial Scar) A hideous disfigurement makes you ugly and easy to notice and easy to remember. Whatever your particular choice of disfigurement, it has to be something blatantly obvious to a casual glance. In addition, as it is a birth deformity, it cannot be healed, though you could employ magics to cover it via illusions in some instances, and perhaps utilize high level magics to transform yourself into a more pleasing form for the duration, though you'll always have the lingering fear of it being dispelled.
Explanation: You have a visible major disfigurement. - Greedy (-1): Money makes your eyes light up with joy. The more, the merrier, as long as it spends. Once in a while, whenever you're divvying up shares of the loot, being offered a hefty bribe, or catching wind of some fabulous treasure, the flaw can to convince you to grab for as much money as possible.
Explanation: You may act differently when money comes into play.
MAGIC
Magic: Lack Luster Limb
Type: Caster
Element: None.
Description: Long before Shakku 'left' his parents, this magic was properly called "Lustrous Bone Magic." Now that he hardly remembers his parents, shakku only sees himself as a lack-luster prodigy; a lack luster mage using lack luster magic but gradually aiming to redeem himself. The bones formed by shakku with this magic even reflect this, as each bone in visual appearance has lost it's sheen, or pearly luster.
In order to activate this magic the user is not required to do much except, touch the tips of his thumbs together. One hand cannot cast the magic alone, and without touching the tips of the thumbs together beforehand, the magic cannot be used. After activating, the magic creates enough extreme internal heat and pressure to cause the bones located throughout Shakku's body to liquefy, and shift to the part of the body named in the spell that is used; the now liquid bone re-hardens while ejecting from the user's body. Example: I'd touch the tips (lol) of my thumbs together as a prerequisite to activate the magic, then use a spell which says "creates a bone as long as a spear that ejects from the users arm" the bones, after becoming liquid would move to shakku's arm and slowly eject from the body as if it were sticking out from an open wound.
One disadvantage to this magic is that after using a spell, this leaves whichever part of the body mentioned in that spell bone-less, a state which renders that limb/portion of the body useless. (Example: The arm spell previously mentioned creates a spear of bone, ejecting the spear from the user's arm. That same arm would not be usable for the cool down duration of that spell because the bone previously in that arm has been liquefied and ejected out of the body as a spear.)
HISTORY
History:
7th Year: The young boy let out innocent cries and an almost ecstasy filled laughter upon the sight of his letter. "Yes, ahaha, YES! I knew someone wouldn't forget about me." It was the first one he had received all day, all month even. His peppered red face had a few tears swiping across them before he quickly made them disappear, his sweater sleeve was the best tool for this since it was dryer than the rest of his clothing. For five hours he had been waiting at the parcel delivery center at his school, ten hours the day before, and ten more hours the day before that. It was a long wait but he received what was coming to him, only if the parcel delivery center hadn't been closed for the past two years at his boarding school, he could have waited somewhere else instead of out in the open weather. It's not as if anyone would have told him that they closed either.
Shakku had tried making friends but it seemed as if the students attending his school were sent by the most prestigious of parents, which usually meant they expected nothing but the best, and even though fraternization is possibly more beneficial than solitary existence at a young age, expecting the best from someone doesn't allow that. The lights were always left on inside the buildings, the old parcel office including as some sort of sick joke to the visitors who weren't as privileged, simply saying 'we can afford to keep our lights on 24/7,' or better yet, 'we can afford lights'. All of the visitors who had to be here at this school no less than once a month and weren't the principal fulfilled this role of being in constant shock, awe, and envy as well as their assigned role within the heart of an institution like this.
People such as the accountant: narrowly avoiding audits from the MRS(magical revenue service) as a result of the principal's reckless spending, the gym teacher narrowly avoiding lawsuits from students who had graduated and used their parent's money to sue, cause we all know their parents didn't give two wags of a tail. The mail man, who really doesn't show much on weekends, and the janitors, never allowed to speak to students because of compensation or threats, or both. The young boy shuffled around the waxed paved school halls found commonly everywhere that wanted to make people think the school had standards of clean floors, as an example to the standards they wish the had, and people truly believe they had of students.
Most of them are practically non-existent until they graduate, and become famous, rich, or both. Others, one day, truly just don't exist. Another term would be "Kidnapped" or "Gone missing" but how would the authorities know there was a student when parents don't report nor remember having a kid or sending him here to be a student. Oddly enough, these things happen non-stop and are just accepted as is. Many times questions lead to expulsion from the school, so, many times students have even more reason not to talk, think, or act free- with emotion or consciousness.
Once Shakku reached his room he proceeded to enter in a sleuth like manner, slowly opening the door and shutting it tightly behind him, making sure as to not create any noise. Upon the outside mantle of each door on both sides of the hall, continuing all the way down for what seemed like a mile, three unique identifying numbers were marked in fine black print to at least manged each little "money seed" as the principal calls them in his spare time, which is rarely not spent outside of the school, but inside giving lectures upon the importance of useless information, but as long as it was regarded by him as important, in his domain, it was important.
The number 384 was poorly etched into the wall, which was further proof that shakku's acceptance into this academy was a mistake, if not mistake, at least a last minute decision. He kicked off his calf leather shoes in a well rehearsed routine that involved lifting both feet off of the ground to rapidly fling both shoes off. The black suede that covered the front and additionally had a strap attached with a big buckle made them uniform and some what respectable but they represented girls heels more than anything, a type of shoe many women wear before going out on a fancy occasion. They were flung with enough leg force to ricochet off of the stuffy, angled closet ceiling before hitting the rugged non-laminated wooden floor and coming back up halfway with a bounce.
The final move in his rehearsed room performance was an "arm spread wide, eagle pose dive onto the bed, with no cuts on the provokingly sharp, aluminum head board; no concussion on the incredibly stunted ceiling, and no arm breakage or scrapeage on the sandpaper like wall" he imagined. His mind took flight as he did. The wall was within sight, with it's layers upon layers of frost white and vanilla cream dried paint, similar to a cake, except this one has stalactites and stalagmites that are both as sharp as angular concrete could be and protrude sideways, the wall also happening to be suffocatingly close to the right side of his bed.
"Bonus points if somehow he manages to hit all three," thought the boy with a smile to end his sentence. Going unconscious with cuts and scrapes which may cause him to bleed out before anyone comes to help is quite the feat. Mid-flight the boy couldn't help but speak, "who would find me first if that did happen? Probably one of the janitors when they try to put cleaning supplies in my room again. I still have that bottle of bleach from la-" His words were suddenly interrupted with a mouth full of three week old unwashed bed linen and a pillow indescribably put in the places where it's dared to return, but perfectly mentionable in appearance- it was one of those old cotton pillows with grey and blue stripes that appeared to be sewn out of deceased miner's socks, the pillow case gave it a sense of conflicting contrast like all humans it seemed better on the outside than in- the case was white all over, and the underside of it when flipped was as cool as snow.
In his mind the dive was perfectly performed, with a back-flip to follow suit, when the actuality had been a miss on the short ceiling, narrowly avoiding a concussion; a miss on the sharp head board, a few inches from any potential stabbing harm; and a definite broken arm on the impact against the thick, paint frosted wall. As long as it was a simple fracture; the bone hadn't pierced the skin, so he was fine. The little time spent with his father and the family magic was paying off every time he had broken a bone. "This time I only shed one tear!" The boy declared cheerfully, waving his arm in the same manner, back and forth with no control over the wrist upwards, but still capable of making his arm flap like a chicken's wing.
He even thought about doing a dance but, first things first was the congratulatory letter. He wouldn't allow his time being spent to make every possible last second his best without at least opening his letter of commendation first, surely a letter of that size was meant to congratulate someone with a surprise. Quickly pressing the thumb of his still functional arm to the thumb of his not as functional, broken arm, he felt the bones in the injured limb completely liquefy, coming with an almost elastic like feeling in his arm, and a sudden ejection in a stream of white mess splashing upon the painted wall, but hardening as it does so. "There, my own contribution for the next kid." he thought perversely with an outside giggle.
The completely deflated arm, once broken and now dangling to his side was slowly regaining it's form through the help of liquid bone produced by magic. After being completely filled in, the once hollow spaces in his arm no longer hollow, but filled with liquid bone instead which then hardened back to bone, like before he broke his arm, this time. With both arms functional he pinched the letter by it's upper right most corner, feeling around every edge afterwords in eager anticipation to open it. The clear lack of space within the wide envelope indicated the contents of itself were thick and condensed rather than thin and spread to fill. "Aagh, I can't take it. Time to open!" Just as he was about to open the letter he gazed at the addressing listed on the front in a long line, a short line, and a long line at the bottom. None of the lettering had any importance except the address and name listed.
His mood couldn't help but take a sudden change; the letter had come from his home, the mansion he fondly remember playing in with his parents. The letter was from his father, a fallen noble with no drive since the departure of his wife and loss of his family fortunes through alcoholism. Most of this was picked up upon early since his father truly never tried to hide his behavior, it was more as if he really hadn't cared what his son thought of him, but shakku held him in high regard nonetheless. He was determined to make his father proud in everything he did, even when his father never showed him any compassion after his mother left.
No congratulations or guidance. "But now I have proof, he does care." thought shakku. His father truly had to care enough to send his son a letter, especially on his son's birthday. "This is how you truly show someone you care about them." he remarked while carefully ripping an entrance to the envelope across it's top. Pulling out the letter, it was a folded piece of vanilla paper, the scent of an exotic flower spread across it's body. In body, yet smooth and flowing letters the word 'Son' was written across the front, and unfortunately nothing written on the back or inside. His father had been known for his calligraphy at one time or another but many times his calligraphy is confused for sloppy and rushed thanks to an uncontrolled, and probably alcohol aided use of his family's cherished Lustrous Bone Magic causing some deformation that are more permanent than others.
He stalled his anticipation to open the letter, a two panel piece of paper that bared more importance to shakku, the words written inside more important than anything else that had entered his life, after his family's break up. With one final push he peaked inside quickly scanning the two pages back and forth. Withdrawing his rubbish hair covered head from the pages he followed the action with an "Oh" the carried a hollow like echo caused by warm tears. His throat had felt inflamed and his eyes as if they were being bled for tears with pliers. He retreated his voice from crying, his sad being from the open but enclosed space of his room, and buried everything into his pillow.
The movement around the bed, knocking the abandoned letter and envelope off of the bed. From a positive perspective, the letter sent by his father, could have had secret writing somewhere inside, a thought shakku had later come up with, and sat on for too long until he finally could try to inspect when holding it close over a flame as to not burn it, but he suddenly thought about the fact that, "If my father never had anything to say to me in public, i doubt there would be much else to mention in private." These words were followed by the sight and smell of a black ash and acidic smoke resulting from the letter and it's limited amount of ink burning. Out of all the disappointments the largest was that somehow his father still paid for his tuition for shakku to attend this school instead of having him sent home or abandoning him. Perhaps shakku's father had once felt regretful of his affliction, it was only natural to feel bad about something so good.
11th Year: Rarely was there a time where the beautiful side of Shakku's small town, Kuert, housed orphans, exiles, and strays. The street life on the beautiful side was like a dream taking each kid away from their sorrows. It was the best place to go for loner, emo, birthmark and failure embedded kids, despite each vulgar eye staring at them in a profane, disgusted manner. Many of the kids in day time seemingly terrorized the civilians by simply existing.
In the evening was when the kids really let loose and played as wild as they wanted or just relaxed, but they couldn't stay on the beautiful side. The towns guards forced each and every non-resident out through the same metal, eight pronged gate, like receding an invitation to heaven in the cruelest of ways as well. Many people die simply because they want to stay. Execution on the spot, says the town's mayor, and each citizen supports it. After midnight the streets of Kuert's lets say, unfortunate side, were practical battlegrounds, crime scenes, manhunts, and public displays of the mutilation. The walls separating both sides of the city were living reflections of yin and ying. Childhood and the responsibility of survival don't really mix well in some ways, and in Kuert, survival meant anything to get over on someone to elevate out of the reincarnation of the devil's play land.
Kids non-nonchalantly ate the flesh of their friends when they unknowingly slept for the last time. Never to be seen again, kids went missing, whether they were killed was less important than the fact that no one seemed to even notice one kid disappearing- there were so many. They were practically gold mines, solely because they could be kidnapped and sent to work in an actual gold mine, and no one would be the wiser. And shakku's exile from the facade of a fancy academy with the sons of nobles was what made him fit right in. His treatment at the academy was no worse, he had a bed in the back of a restaurant's alleyway formed from the daily papers he could steal. Many times he wouldn't be at his bed so he could eat any scraps thrown out in the trash, or to lift any personal possessions off of the frequent trouble making restaurant customers who either couldn't pay, didn't want to pay, or just started a fight for the hell of it.
With the amount of muscle this restaurant has each a every troublemaker past couldn't have left without a proper beating, eventually leading to unconsciousness. If fortunate favored the scavengers in this city, the result was fatal, if fortune favored the deranged the result was soon to be. With this much standing against simple progression of life for kids, there was one choice, a road frequently traveled but less returned from. Serve a noble of the town's outer towers. There were many towers since these privileged kings and queens had a desire for many children to fight over the affection of their parents, but more importantly- their rulership. And after the passing of a king, some of his descendants may not be too fond of the ruling stated in their father's will, leading to clan wars, and other trivial quarrels that people who desire to live can live without.
Unfortunately, without anything, serving a lord is something many kids cannot live without, but soon regret. Shakku happened to be invited by one of the most well known lords, a pompous old man, with deeply seeded perversion for his servants. It was common among lords and the kids picked from the streets, and one of the many reasons they tend to have regrets. Another reason of regret being that the town's law declared it legal to basically slaughter any servants abandoning their servitude to their lords within the town's jurisdiction. Until the age of adulthood these kids are bound by their honor to serve; including shakku. Even when the boys are past the age of maturing many nobles keep their servants for reasons Shakku had yet to discover.
He had initially arrived upon the small tower owned by his soon to be king, looking for riches and entitlement, to some wealth if he worked diligently enough for it. He immediately was sent to the king to greet him, and be solemnly sworn into service before introducing himself to the other boys, also sworn into the king's care. Making friends with other boys in similar or worse predicaments seemed simple enough, but came with the problem that Shakku hadn't known much to aid fraternizing, but soon realized his attempts to socialize weren't the problem. Each boy looked at shakku with same anguish and hate they all received from the towns people inhabiting the beautiful side of Kuert not to long ago except, the citizens had not cared for an actual reason to show hate, they were just biased towards anyone who came from the opposite side of town for reason each their own.
The boys serving under the noble old man, instead had faces that were reminiscent of siblings baring the fear of being transposed as the favorite child with a newborn. And after the old king had his perverted fun with his new toy, he would keep them around to bide his time while searching for another mortal form to amuse him.
18th Year: Four boys had entered the holding cells located deep within the city of Kuert's authoritarian and mayoral joint building. Each one was two years past the determined age Kuert's society had established for the coming of maturity being, sixteen. Each boy, now pronounced as a man and a suspect to staging Coup D'etat against their sworn king sat in silence, as though their fealty was sworn to another, that wasn't the slain king, but their king breathing and lively. None of the four boys could be the king, sitting against the cold hard rocks apart of a poorly constructed holding area submerged within the foundation of the underground interrogation unit's half of the mayoral building, with metal cuffs nearly cutting the circulation of their wrists and ankles.
Not one was as borderline arrogant, self absorbed for the sake of others, and as thirsty for wealth, let alone one sixth of a half as handsome as shakku had presented himself to be. His persona had shone brightly against the diluted vibes that each city authority had radiated until now, like a converting force, turning determination into realization of how futile any attempt at questioning could be. Even though accused of being the one who lead the treasonous Coup against the lord he was sworn to serve, he pleaded as though he knew nothing right along with his fellow conspirators, but wished the revolutionaries who did kill the king "future blessings for the extent of their ruthless style."
Not only the king but each boy assigned to the king's well being for that night was slain, except a mysterious group of four boys, who by chance were sitting so coy like for their opportunity to be released, with the fifth standing with a wind of contempt for the sole purpose of aggravating the authority of the city when told to have a seat. His attitude in mentioning how silent he intended to be during interrogation, was abrasive, almost caustic to the ego's normally held so sky high by the city's authorities; and to shakku the extent of his accuser's will's were only flag poles in height, and he intended to topple them all.
It was in their rights to plead innocent, and without just cause or sufficient evidence, plus an alibi unknowingly obtained by a heavy counter extortion, the city's corrupt rulings benefited them for once. Each detail of the crime had been examined after the fact by investigators with unsettling ease. The kings history of depravity was not unlike Shakku's father's rakishness, both with dissolute lifestyles but different afflictions. As a noble old man, his time was spent, carefully bribing the authorities of the city who had full knowledge of what the king did do to each boy, and there were things done, not even they knew about. It provides a perfect explanation as to why not only the authorities, but the citizens gaze at each boy was a demoralizing front, they put on to keep their distance, different from how the citizens viewed the kids before they left the city's 'bad side' and even from how the kids view each other.
The king turned each child into degenerates, deteriorating any and all aspects of their being. Unbeknownst to the public was the fact that, not all nobles of Kuert's towers were at war. Many had shared interests and disgusting hobbies with the king Shakku and his gang of four had served, so much that even the boys he had toyed around with for such an extended duration, began to be passed around. This was the unknown reason why a king would keep his indentured servant past his age of maturity: other nobles took interest in older boys, as well as mutilating, torturing, and various other types of services, considered punishment by servants, and rewards by their lords.
The youngest of the five men by month was released first, his excitement upon freedom was easily read by the smile he flashed, despite missing this whole bottom row of teeth- this was the result of one of the kings he was traded to that loved the high pitched scream of boys and kept teeth as trophies of each person he claimed to love; this king was called the tooth fairy, but his tower quickly fell at the hands of another king who had taken a fancy to fingers and hands. The two boys who were twins had stepped outside into the fresh air, next to their now established younger brother, still wearing his fifty/fifty toothless smile.
The twins, suffering mental illness and physiological problems from the attempt at swapping one half of each of their brains, an idea straight from some twisted novel that proved to be a successful transplant by the physician lord, or so it seemed. The last two men exited as a pair as well. Shakku, and his new found family, arms around each other to celebrate the success of their plan. From the underside of their horse hay textured, rash inducing brown woolen shirts, four scars running vertically parallel to each other on both boys signifies the swapped and sometimes plain removed organs between the two former servants.
With his entire face almost removed by an illness that hadn’t shown till late in his life, he hadn’t realized until now, since scars were a relevant thought, his scar probably came from his mother or her side of the family. In actuality his faux skin was a lot like his mom’s in many ways. In the place of their facial deformities, both had made a cover for their face that was obvious and darker than their skin tones. This had led shakku to believe a new perspective about his father living with his mom, someone so hideous that his alcoholism could only save him from his eyes. From now on, shakku could sympathize with his mother, and every boy he met before while in servitude, each with their own scar.
The five boys each with paths paved ahead of them had fear of rejection or disdain, but their deformities served as constant reminders when they see each other; reminders of what can spark true hatred despite what causes petty anger between them. A reminder of what shared passion that burns brighter than the sun can prevent. It obviously made their fires burn brighter, now making them the bro-est of bros that ever bro'd.
28th Year: Though, the four men now working in cooperation with Shakku at his only location of the bar, Shakku as the owner, left to open more bars and restaurants as a part of the soon to be, 'Basement Moss' monopoly. His first new location planning to be in the city of Roncello, he has taken four youth with him in his quest to not only provide a life outside of their hometown but to give them a pilgrimage, something to signify their coming of age.
However nice that sounded, his true reasons for leaving would be the Rune Knights closing in on his location, as a sign that he was branded for committing or being suspected of committing: repeated acts of cannibalism(cooking and feeding people human flesh counts as this), multiple homicides(borderline genocide of petty but perverted lords and their overly attached servants), multiple acts of buggery(as if they care about such a thing), prostitution(more counts of this, than the murders), public indecency on two accounts- walking around with his dress shirt and blazer off during the spring, and taking his shirt and blazer off before a fist fight to avoid getting blood on them, five counts of physical and aggravated assault, two counts of assault with deadly magic, one count of sexual harassment which was unjustly charged because he high five'd a woman at his bar after committing a murder that had abnormally bloodied his hands afterwards, perjury on the account of murdering one of the lords he was in former service to, but lying to the authorities about his actions, identity theft after actually trying to go home to one of the lords he murdered wearing his face, only getting caught the next morning when his wife realized that he was never previously that experienced in bed..with foot massages.
Having spent the whole night giving back rubs, lighting homemade candles, and reading to the kids, he fells asleep halfway through Magic-flex and chill with the Rune Knights appearing to arrest him the next morning. Currently a fugitive, he bides his time traveling, at least until he can return to his bar, or become strong enough to kick some rune knight keister.
Last edited by Shakku on Tue Apr 05, 2016 10:11 am; edited 5 times in total (Reason for editing : Changed things, n stuffs.)