Completed Delusions of Danger

[Huskabar]

Season: Spring/Day: 5th/Year: 514/Time: Noon The bare gnarled feet of the shut-in mage marched back and forth the floorboards of his apartment, as his wrinkled hands gripped against his long dark gray and brown mane of hair, pulling tight at it’s length, as he screamed out, “Just leave me alone, won’t you!” As he turned his head, he still saw the imagine of the strangled prostitute he had killed oh so many years ago, and though at this point, he hoped that this figure was a ghost, he knew that was not the answer. His dementia had only grown worse, and it was beginning to completely envelop his everyday life. Every waking moment was miserable, and no longer could he become the man that he envisioned. He reached forward, spreading his old fingers, as he used his inner djed to rip open a tiny hole in the surrounding space, slowly pulling this entrance wider… He began to lean forward, wanting nothing more than to just push his head inside. He knew that the unbearable cold would cause him to lose the focus, and the void would shut, leaving his head inside, and his body dismembered and bloody on these cursed floorboards. “No…” He said with a great defiance in his tone, as he began to enlarge the hole even further. He knew he had far too much to accomplish to let these delusions interfere. He could see from the corner of his eyes, the prostitute slowly moving in closer, holding the kris that she had dropped into the puddle of wizard’s blood more than fifty years ago. He could pay her no mind, as he continued to stare at the ripping chasm. He would not, and he simply could not let this weakness hold him back. He had to be stronger than that, and he had to push himself further. He opened the void even wider now, it’s diameter nearly spanning the length of his forearm, but second by second, he could see in his peripheral vision that she was now less than a couple yards from him. Almost instinctually, he quickly projected the void in her direction, but just as he did, the apparition was gone. “Oh, what is the matter, old man? Don’t you want to give me another big sloppy kiss for old time’s sake?” came out her haunting tone, filled with anguish and destane. “You can practice your silly magic all you like, but you will never be anything more than a gutter rat, scrounging for food. It doesn’t matter how powerful, or how wealthy you may become, you will never be anything beyond that.” The old wizard refused to lose his focus, as he was bombarded with supreme criticism, insults, and just a general mockery. “Look at me, you pathetic withered thing, you! You took my life, just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time! Who do you think you are?” The voice said, as he could see the figure, now on his other side. “I am Huskabar Skorn, and you are nothing more than a product of aging, illness, and an overactive imagination!” He called out, before using his projection once more, to shoot the void in that direction, all while trying to keep absolute focus on the gateway to blackness. Oh, how he loathed the costs of aging, and the trials it seemed to constantly put him through. If only he had learned magic at a younger age, he would not have to conflict his own ailments while struggling to grow stronger every passing day, but no matter the obstacles he knew that he had to overcome them. He could not give in to this illness, and spend his remaining days as an age-beaten lunatic. He would not allow himself to travel down that road, straight for a casket that no one would ever visit, making him nothing more than a forgotten memory. No, that was not an option!

[Huskabar]

“Pay her no heed,” came another voice out from the extremely convoluted abomination that was his mind. It was the voice of his father, and this time it was quite welcomed. A faint smile came across his wrinkled face, as he gazed into the beautiful emptiness before him. Oh, how there was a piece of him that missed this man, despite the cocoon of resentment that oh so heavily smothered this part of himself. “She was beneath you then, and she is beneath you now. You are becoming stronger every day, despite your condition, and I could not be more proud of you.” A feeling of momentary joy filled the old man’s heart, though he knew these words would never come from his true father’s lips. The Kravon Skorn he knew was a peaceful man, and though he always seemed rather haunted by something, he never preached such ideas of superiority or inferiority to young Huskabar. He was a man who believed that there was equality among all sentient life, no matter their caste. The wizard then gradually creased the gateway back in on itself, causing it to disappear entirely, before he looked onto the face of his father, now letting the raging prostitute fade into the background of his mind. Oh, the vision of the man looked exactly the way he remembered him, and he was so much younger in appearance than Huskabar was now, and yet the old wizard had always looked quite a bit like his father. The nose was slightly different, and the eyes were far kinder and lighter than his own. His hair was long, like the old wizard’s, but it was far more loose and calming in appearance. His beard was shorter, and far darker, but also more refined unlike the tangled and frayed mess that hung from Huskabar’s face. Suddenly a change began to occur in the wizard. He felt his face gradually shift, as he looked upon the image of the infinitely familiar delusion before him. He reached up his hands to feel along the surface of his face, only to touch smooth skin, and as his hands explored his new appearance, it was clear to him that he now resembled his father… To a certain extent. His nose seemed to be halfway in between that of his own, and his fathers, and his hair did appear to be a little bit fuller, while his beard did seem to be shorter, but there was not a huge amount of light in the room, and no mirror within grasp, so he could not be entirely sure of the coloration, but one thing was certain… He had found a way to mimic an image through memory… Even if that memory was aided by a delusion brought on by a terrible illness. “You see son?” the wizard felt his own fuller lips move as his father’s words came out. “You are far more like me than you even know… Together, we will become a powerful force.” There was no doubt that these words sounded nothing like those that the father he remembered would have used, but perhaps this was not the man he remembered, but the man he had always wanted for a role model… It was right there and then, that Huskabar Skorn decided that he was to be his own role model, and that he would embrace this false father, for it was all he ever truly desired from a parent. A faint smile came to his expression, as he nodded to the words he spoke. “Excellent, my boy…”

[Huskabar]

A deep rolling laugh came from within the very same body, as menacing eyes glinted toward the faint outline of the other phantom figure, a cold sharp tone crawling from out of his very core, “Streetwalker, you are nothing. Nay, less than nothing. Be gone from my mind, you pathetic parasite,” he commanded, and at his very words a pleading scream could be heard, as the outline completely faded into nonexistence. This was the answer, he knew deep within, as a sickly smile found its way across his expression. He could not fight his illness, but he could make it a part of him. By embracing his dementia, perhaps he could very well make his weakness his strength. “Alright, father… Let’s achieve the impossible.” The very same man shook his head, with a deep chuckle, his irises fading to a lighter pigment as he spoke in his new found tone of voice, “Let’s pace ourselves, my son. Practice is perfection, and perfection is success. Power is not an instant leap, but rather a ladder… Step by step we shall climb, and we shall knock down anyone in front of us.” Though his eyes had changed, the darkness within this man seemed to be strong no matter what persona he adopted. Before he was merely a conniving old goat, but now he was so much more than that. In his mind, he had ascended to new heights, and he would not allow himself to fall back down. “Knock, knock, knock,” came a sound tapping at his door, but when he opened up the door, he saw no one. Was he just imagining this as well, or had there indeed been a knocking? This question was swiftly answered, when he felt a tugging at his cloak, and as he looked down, he saw a young boy dressed in rags. “Please, Sir… I heard noise in here… and I am…. so very hungry,” he said, followed by a vicious cough. The sorcerer’s first impulse was one of violence… How dare this impotent little brat interrupt him in the midst of his self-discovery, but in the very next moment his mind flashed back to when he was a child. This young boy was no different than him… He was just desperate for an opportunity just as he was as a child, and unlike his father so many years ago, Huskabar was going to do the right thing… “Come in, little one. I will not hurt you,” he said, sporting his signature chilling smirk, as the twisted gears inside his mind began to turn and creak. He reached out, gripping the soft skin of the young boy’s arm, as he guided him closer. “No one understands your suffering, do they? No one knows what it is like to be you.” The young boy was beginning to feel fright trace it’s cold ragged claws against his back, as his throat tightened, before giving way to a deep gulp. “I am not going to feed you. Oh, no, no. I am going to do something better for you, boy. I am going to teach you how to take the power from this world,” he said, as his new face quickly revealed an all too menacing grimace. The irises were now their original emerald hued ebony, and when the boy looked down to seemed to have lived many more years than his face, he let out a ghastly scream.

[Huskabar]

The scream rang through his ears, and without even a moment of hesitation the wizard, despite all of his powers acted on instinct, and gripped the small boys throat, but the screaming would not stop. He tightened his grip, as rage shot through his expression, feeling skin bruise and vessels pop beneath the pressure of his old gnarled fingers, pushing the young boy down to the ground, as he watched the young youthful eyes fade into a dull gray. The murderer looked down to the corpse of his victim, shaking his head, as he thought to himself, “And to think… I was going to actually waste my time trying to teach this pathetic little brat.” Suddenly reality hit him, and he knew he had to act fast. Surely, many heard the scream of the child, and though anarchy reigned supreme in Sunberth, it was not without it’s natural laws. If someone saw him next to this dead child, he knew his corpse would soon be laying beside it. He darted out from his home, across the alley, hoping that no one had saw him. He took a moment to look around, and luckily there was no one in sight just yet. Two rough dressed men ran to the doorway of his home, looking in before spotting the dead child. “Who did this?” Huskabar could hear in the distance, as he saw a crowd drawing near the home’s entrance, and his expression only grea all the more pale as he heard, “It must that old man! The one who is always making all the noise in there!” He heard an agreeing roar of approval, as a mob seemed to be quickly forming. He began to turn to flee, but as he did he heard, “Hey, you!” He thought his heart was going to jump out of his chest at this very moment, and as he slowly turned towards the speaker, to see the same large rugged man he had seen in the midst of the crowd, “Have you seen a crazy old man around here? We’ve got a child murderer in our midst.” he said, as he leaned forward. Huskabar immediately realized his hands were still old, before subtly guiding them beneath his cloak. “Oh, I believe he did… Does he have a long greyish brown beard?” Huskabar said, as a feeling of relief began to wash over him. He had forgotten for a moment that he was still wearing the face of his father. “He ran down that alleyway to your right.” he said, as the nervous feeling gradually melted away, but left a faint trace. The large man gave a nod to Huskabar, and made his way down the alley, with the crowd following behind them. Some get the misconception that there are no laws to break in Sunberth… Those people are wrong. There is no judge. There is no council. There is no court… But there are indeed unspoken laws ingrained into the culture, and strangling a child to death was certainly one way to break them. Huskabar knew he could no longer stay in this city, and though he had not accomplished his what he wished to achieve in returning home to Sunberth, he believed that the best place for his head was exactly where it already sat. “You really got yourself into a bad situation this time, Son,” the familiar voice of his father rang into his head, and though he wanted to give a swift rebuttal, he knew that these words were correct. Now he just had to figure out how he was going to leave the city. “Well you can’t take a horse. It would cost far too much, and you do not even know how to ride one.” This statement was also true, and he certainly could not go by foot… It would take him eons to get anywhere. Then there was a moment of silence, as the perfect answer sprung into his mind… “Are you thinking what I am thinking?” came the voice, as a delicious grin rolled each corner of his mouth tight, his head nodding, as he began to make his way to the docks, ready to make his great escape…..

[Zandelia]

Huskabar :

Skills
Morphing – 1
Voiding – 2
Observation – 4
Philosophy – 1
Socialization – 1
Subterfuge - 1

Lores
Ghosts Of The Past
The Voice Of My Father
Demands Of Dementia
Morphing: Father’s Face
Muder Most Foul
Fleeing Sunberth

Notes :

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