Post by Justin-sama on Dec 2, 2006 20:26:12 GMT -5
This is a new idea, I can't really get a good description of Jagreth though.
...
By: Justin Kennedy
A small boy stood, watching his parents in horror, they were coming towards him, they had knives in their hands. His brother had just been butchered by them. The boy ran as hard as he could, he reached a dead end and turned, his eyes wide in terror.
The man and woman who had been his parents advanced on him with those blood stained knives. “Now, now, don't cry, we'll make it quick!” the woman screamed as she lunged at the boy.
The boy crouched and threw his hands over his head, screaming in fear and pain as the knife buried itself inside his arm. He began to cry, the woman seemed to be affected by this, but only for a second.
As soon as the first teardrop hit the ground, the boy's curse mark, his birthmark, began to glow blood red. The mark crawled down his right arm, wrapping itself around his wrist and stopping on his palm. He looked up and saw a set of brass knuckles fly at him, he flung his hands up, the mark glowed brighter, and a lance of energy shot out, killing his father and mother.
The boy sat on his knees, crying, he grasped his head and screamed as loud as he could...
+
Jagreth shot up, it was the same dream, the dream of the day he had lost his family and learned about his mark. He had also lost all emotions, except anger, wrath, hatred, and sorrow.
Jagreth was still small for his age, but he was filled with potent energy that no one could match, not even the best fighter at the academy of magi. He was feared, hated, and above all, punished for everyone else's wrong doings. He was tired of everything being the way it was, he hated them, all of them. He had sworn he would kill the one who made him the way he was, his blood stained hands would never find comfort, until they were around the throat of that demon, the one who had spawned him and his brother.
Jagreth's red, gold flecked eyes flashed with hatred and resentment as he remembered those fools. He got out of bed and looked in the mirror, his black hair still had a white stripe down the right side of the top of his head, his mark still showed perfectly, its blood red crescent circling his right eye, the line going across his eye and down his cheek and curving right, the other line starting with the first, but going right then curving down, then curving right. He despised it, in fact, his skin was once scarred by his attempts to remove it. He looked at the still bloody knife from so long ago, he could try again, but each time the mark had gotten worse.
Jagreth slammed his fists into the wall, “Dammit.” he grunted as he looked at his bleeding knuckles...
...
By: Justin Kennedy
A small boy stood, watching his parents in horror, they were coming towards him, they had knives in their hands. His brother had just been butchered by them. The boy ran as hard as he could, he reached a dead end and turned, his eyes wide in terror.
The man and woman who had been his parents advanced on him with those blood stained knives. “Now, now, don't cry, we'll make it quick!” the woman screamed as she lunged at the boy.
The boy crouched and threw his hands over his head, screaming in fear and pain as the knife buried itself inside his arm. He began to cry, the woman seemed to be affected by this, but only for a second.
As soon as the first teardrop hit the ground, the boy's curse mark, his birthmark, began to glow blood red. The mark crawled down his right arm, wrapping itself around his wrist and stopping on his palm. He looked up and saw a set of brass knuckles fly at him, he flung his hands up, the mark glowed brighter, and a lance of energy shot out, killing his father and mother.
The boy sat on his knees, crying, he grasped his head and screamed as loud as he could...
+
Jagreth shot up, it was the same dream, the dream of the day he had lost his family and learned about his mark. He had also lost all emotions, except anger, wrath, hatred, and sorrow.
Jagreth was still small for his age, but he was filled with potent energy that no one could match, not even the best fighter at the academy of magi. He was feared, hated, and above all, punished for everyone else's wrong doings. He was tired of everything being the way it was, he hated them, all of them. He had sworn he would kill the one who made him the way he was, his blood stained hands would never find comfort, until they were around the throat of that demon, the one who had spawned him and his brother.
Jagreth's red, gold flecked eyes flashed with hatred and resentment as he remembered those fools. He got out of bed and looked in the mirror, his black hair still had a white stripe down the right side of the top of his head, his mark still showed perfectly, its blood red crescent circling his right eye, the line going across his eye and down his cheek and curving right, the other line starting with the first, but going right then curving down, then curving right. He despised it, in fact, his skin was once scarred by his attempts to remove it. He looked at the still bloody knife from so long ago, he could try again, but each time the mark had gotten worse.
Jagreth slammed his fists into the wall, “Dammit.” he grunted as he looked at his bleeding knuckles...
