The Last Robotica (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thefolksbetween) wrote2009-06-28 06:12 pm
thefolksbetween) wrote2009-06-28 06:12 pm
Entry tags:
Death to Angels - Non
Who: Non (Nameless of Nothing)
What: Simple take down and wait out of Angels. A normal day in the lie of Non before meeting his Avri.
When: Before finding Avri
Where: The City – Personal RPG World
Rating: PS – 13ish ?
He wiped the blood and feathers off of his blade, sliding it along a cloth of rich silk, ripped form the body of the child like fellow at his feet. The glow had faded from the angel, it’s body pale as moon light, it’s wings a mix of dark gray and sable. They were flecked with blood now, stretched out and molting in a pile near by. Bending over the body, he rolled it over form it’s back to it’s front, glancing it once over for anything else that could be useful.
With out a care in the world, he reached his blade down and cut careful, out the bird boy’s eyes, pulling a jar out of his pack and dropping them in, blood and all. He put a solution into the bottle, shook it a bit and looked carefully. Blue and clear like diamonds. Sparkling still even out of it’s owners head. He’d fetch a pretty penny for these. After this he pried the teeth of the angel out of it’s mouth, caring not if he disfigured the body so bad. No one here cared. Angel’s teeth were like ivory on the black market, and if her were lucky enough, a Tooth Fairy would be interested and pay a good price.
It wasn’t every day one would find the parts of an Angel on the market, was it?
He took with him the heart as well as some dark long strand of silk hair, all tucked away in proper cases for transport. He happened to have his equipment with him this time. He had to let the last few waste. This time though, he’d make some extra on the side. The wings were to be taken to the alter, to the top of a very tall building in the City, near it’s center. He would wait there, about a day’s rest, for the senile old fools who wanted their own kind.
‘It is for the preservation of our own kind’ they had claimed each time they handed over a sack of goods. Never cash, nor gold really, but useable items he could sell on the market, or trade. Goods that nearly no one else in all of the City could find but himself.
He was older then this place himself, having survived so many wars it was unheard of. He knew all the tricks to the world and where to find anything he or anyone else needed. He had out lived so many people, and seen so many things. It was tiring, and trite, but he continued to thrive on the suffering of others.
Especially when those others were the winged ‘angels’ of this world. Fallen citizens of a floating city, the silly humans of this planet had long ago called them ‘angels of god’ but really? They were just a race hidden far in the sky, never to be seen or noticed by the humans puny attempts of technology.
In order to keep their birdie like selves on their personal floating island in the sky, the elders and those who came before told of the horrors that lay before them under their worlds. ‘Those who leave our world will never return. Those who leave our world lose their wings and die a horrible painful death.’ It was a tail that scared so many from going over the edge and flying too far. Once in a while though, one would.
That one that would always disappeared, and always some time later it’s wings would show up, bloody, broken and in the hands of a crying elder. A crying elder who pleaded for everyone to head their warnings, to please understand, they didn’t want to lose another! An elder who really had a bounty out on any winged creature, and a good prize for each set of wings that were returned. Non was the one who took that job.
A job that sometimes seemed a bit far and few between.
With his new catch, he bagged the wings and took off, leaving the mutilated body for the darkness to devour in just a few hours, not caring if he took off looking like a bloody mess. His job was done for now and he had things to cell. First, a rest and long wait.
It took hours, but he reached the pavilion at the top of the building at mid center. It was a privately owned building that he had connections to. No one ever roamed the top 4 floors of the building but a select few distinguished people of this dirty and disastrous city. He ignored everyone in the building but one man, Bernie, a security guard on the 74th floor.
Non’s troll like smile was hidden behind an ivory mask, but his voice, dark and deep, trailed out smoothly, as if he were pleased. “Announce my arrival to the feather heads.” He said, dropping the bag form his shoulder to his feet then reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a small vial, holding it between thumb and index finger.
The guard smiled, leaning on the counter and pushing a button. In the distance a gong went off, echoed twice and stopped. Then holding his hand out he stated simply “My pleasure, sir.” The vial was handed to him, examined, opened and sniffed, tasted and soon charmed. The man leaned back, and waved his hand to the left. “Room 74-G is open for you. Arrival time an estimated 27 hours. They’ve been a bit slow lately.”
Non grunted, rolling blow glowing eyes behind his mask and shrugged. “Fine. I’ll make myself at him.” With that he hauled the bag off, and headed down a hall, moving to an office space, room G, that seemed to be over hauled for it’s customers needs. A bed, a bath, some food and booze. All elegant and rich, as if they came from the heavens themselves. Most of the time that was the case. Here he would wait for an elder to descend and make a trade.
Working for these winged pricks was a doubled edged sword for this troll. Non was of a very small tribe in the Congo of green skinned trolls. A warrior race that… for the most part were wiped out of existence. He was very much the last of his kind. Working for these foul bird like people was a bit of a blow emotionally, seeing as they were the ones responsible for the murder and slaughter of his tribe. But to be able to kill and mutilate the same beings in a horrifying manner and then to sell their wings to their own kind brought about a grim sort of satisfaction for the man.
It was that grim satisfaction that kept him doing it. Killing the bastard angels that infested his half of the planet. Yeah, it was a good life to lay back on this bed, eat their food and wine, and all to deliver the filthy wings of their own kind to them.
It was real satisfying indeed.
What: Simple take down and wait out of Angels. A normal day in the lie of Non before meeting his Avri.
When: Before finding Avri
Where: The City – Personal RPG World
Rating: PS – 13ish ?
He wiped the blood and feathers off of his blade, sliding it along a cloth of rich silk, ripped form the body of the child like fellow at his feet. The glow had faded from the angel, it’s body pale as moon light, it’s wings a mix of dark gray and sable. They were flecked with blood now, stretched out and molting in a pile near by. Bending over the body, he rolled it over form it’s back to it’s front, glancing it once over for anything else that could be useful.
With out a care in the world, he reached his blade down and cut careful, out the bird boy’s eyes, pulling a jar out of his pack and dropping them in, blood and all. He put a solution into the bottle, shook it a bit and looked carefully. Blue and clear like diamonds. Sparkling still even out of it’s owners head. He’d fetch a pretty penny for these. After this he pried the teeth of the angel out of it’s mouth, caring not if he disfigured the body so bad. No one here cared. Angel’s teeth were like ivory on the black market, and if her were lucky enough, a Tooth Fairy would be interested and pay a good price.
It wasn’t every day one would find the parts of an Angel on the market, was it?
He took with him the heart as well as some dark long strand of silk hair, all tucked away in proper cases for transport. He happened to have his equipment with him this time. He had to let the last few waste. This time though, he’d make some extra on the side. The wings were to be taken to the alter, to the top of a very tall building in the City, near it’s center. He would wait there, about a day’s rest, for the senile old fools who wanted their own kind.
‘It is for the preservation of our own kind’ they had claimed each time they handed over a sack of goods. Never cash, nor gold really, but useable items he could sell on the market, or trade. Goods that nearly no one else in all of the City could find but himself.
He was older then this place himself, having survived so many wars it was unheard of. He knew all the tricks to the world and where to find anything he or anyone else needed. He had out lived so many people, and seen so many things. It was tiring, and trite, but he continued to thrive on the suffering of others.
Especially when those others were the winged ‘angels’ of this world. Fallen citizens of a floating city, the silly humans of this planet had long ago called them ‘angels of god’ but really? They were just a race hidden far in the sky, never to be seen or noticed by the humans puny attempts of technology.
In order to keep their birdie like selves on their personal floating island in the sky, the elders and those who came before told of the horrors that lay before them under their worlds. ‘Those who leave our world will never return. Those who leave our world lose their wings and die a horrible painful death.’ It was a tail that scared so many from going over the edge and flying too far. Once in a while though, one would.
That one that would always disappeared, and always some time later it’s wings would show up, bloody, broken and in the hands of a crying elder. A crying elder who pleaded for everyone to head their warnings, to please understand, they didn’t want to lose another! An elder who really had a bounty out on any winged creature, and a good prize for each set of wings that were returned. Non was the one who took that job.
A job that sometimes seemed a bit far and few between.
With his new catch, he bagged the wings and took off, leaving the mutilated body for the darkness to devour in just a few hours, not caring if he took off looking like a bloody mess. His job was done for now and he had things to cell. First, a rest and long wait.
It took hours, but he reached the pavilion at the top of the building at mid center. It was a privately owned building that he had connections to. No one ever roamed the top 4 floors of the building but a select few distinguished people of this dirty and disastrous city. He ignored everyone in the building but one man, Bernie, a security guard on the 74th floor.
Non’s troll like smile was hidden behind an ivory mask, but his voice, dark and deep, trailed out smoothly, as if he were pleased. “Announce my arrival to the feather heads.” He said, dropping the bag form his shoulder to his feet then reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a small vial, holding it between thumb and index finger.
The guard smiled, leaning on the counter and pushing a button. In the distance a gong went off, echoed twice and stopped. Then holding his hand out he stated simply “My pleasure, sir.” The vial was handed to him, examined, opened and sniffed, tasted and soon charmed. The man leaned back, and waved his hand to the left. “Room 74-G is open for you. Arrival time an estimated 27 hours. They’ve been a bit slow lately.”
Non grunted, rolling blow glowing eyes behind his mask and shrugged. “Fine. I’ll make myself at him.” With that he hauled the bag off, and headed down a hall, moving to an office space, room G, that seemed to be over hauled for it’s customers needs. A bed, a bath, some food and booze. All elegant and rich, as if they came from the heavens themselves. Most of the time that was the case. Here he would wait for an elder to descend and make a trade.
Working for these winged pricks was a doubled edged sword for this troll. Non was of a very small tribe in the Congo of green skinned trolls. A warrior race that… for the most part were wiped out of existence. He was very much the last of his kind. Working for these foul bird like people was a bit of a blow emotionally, seeing as they were the ones responsible for the murder and slaughter of his tribe. But to be able to kill and mutilate the same beings in a horrifying manner and then to sell their wings to their own kind brought about a grim sort of satisfaction for the man.
It was that grim satisfaction that kept him doing it. Killing the bastard angels that infested his half of the planet. Yeah, it was a good life to lay back on this bed, eat their food and wine, and all to deliver the filthy wings of their own kind to them.
It was real satisfying indeed.