Wing of a Sparrow [Job Thread:: Closed]

attempt to push forward his research in blood magic Jack had travelled to Yygaorosil the demonic tree in an attempt to learn more about things that had been going on around here. And the blood magic behind the tree. Thus far he had learned much, however upon discovery of a secret and old binding magic within the tree, Jack travelled to the village where the people had once worshipped the tree, before the man behind the door in the body of Jack had killed them all. Now revealed to Jack, a book a book from the library. A book that shouldn’t exist. And one that only the man behind the door can read. Now the demon harkens unto him an offer. Open the door again, and he’ll help Jack read the book and uncover the secrets therein.

Jack was never one to give into temptation easily. But this book clearly had some answers that he needed to know. He had opened the door once and the man behind the door had let him take control again. So what was there to fear from this time? Plenty. There was nothing to say that it had been the yellow eyed demons choice to be driven back behind that door. And ultimately to Jack this spelled out danger with a capital D. Still, he wasn’t going to progress if he didn’t take a risk every now and again. A chuckle only emphisised this danger. But yet ultimately. He remembered his first words to Iskra. There was never any progression if you simply hid. You would never gain power if you didn’t turn and fight. “ So then”. Jack said to the man behind the door in a confident tone that didn’t reflect his own feelings on the matter. “ Just what is it that you wish to do”> The man behind the door went silent for a moment and then spoke. “ Open the door again”. The man said. “ Just a smidge. Just enough so that I can peak out from behind the wood. Peak out and see for myself through an eye”. Jack didn’t quite know what it meant. It sounded like possession but he wasn’t quite sure about just what he meant. One could never be sure when it came to demons of madness after all. So he looked within his inner eye, there. The door. But still there. His hand reached out and he touched it. Turning the cold handle. And opening it just ever so slightly. Just enough so that he could see inside to the blackened silhouette of the man behind the door. His cold breath escaping like the clutches of death from behind the door. Just a step from Sheol. On the precipice of that abyss. Jack knew fear. And the man laughed.

EXP:493
PWC:470

His vision swam. He felt it this time not like before when he had been stuck in the library. But this time, he was actually there. He was still in his own body. He could see and feel but there was something different. He felt as he had that first time within the library. That strange drunkenness that he couldn’t quite control. He tried to steady himself only to fall onto the ground staring downwards into a puddle. And what he saw in his reflection shocked him. His left eye was yellow. His right. Red. One of his eyes now belonged to the man behind the door. He was in a sense. Using Jack to peak out into the real world. It was an odd thing. This drunkenness. He stumbled back up onto his feet and then looked down and over at the book. Slowly but surely. The words began to form within. And he could see. But just what was this? Was this drunken feeling how the madness demons felt. Was it why their inhibitions were so low? This time oddly he felt the man behind the door shuffling within his mind, and odd flash a picture of himself with full yellow eyes talking. “ Hurry up, there’s not much time before the door closes again, so do you want me t help you read this book or are you going to mull on just what existence is like for my particular type of demon?”. So the man behind the door was taking on a form similar to his when the door was opened. Cute. And at the same time. Worrying. Was it merely convience or just out of his own desire to show Jack what he could become if he got his own way. Jack didn’t quite know. But one thing he did agree on. He’d need to use this time to read that book. To find out why it was here. And what blood magic bound the tree..


EXP:339
PWC:333

“She lay by the seaside. A bottle in hand. The dark roaring waves in front echoing in the distance, the vast and empty beach mirroring her feelings at this time. So she waited. Waited here for the one she was to meet. Doesn’t it feel like we know, said a voice in the dark. Crawling inside that mind like the maggots of an empty corpse. Feeding upon the inner decaying recesses of her emotions and mentality. The end approached, with lights and steel. Her mind however. Swam. The call of the sea was dangerous wild. And brought her closer like the call of a siren. There was something buried here. A scarf. A hanker chief. A red rose ribbon, tied to the pommels of a dying black blade. She felt, should we dive in we should be free, free to do as we want. Free to do as we wished. To let the waves determine our path and let no responsibility. No remorse grant our access. But things are never so easy. Now she thought of the one she had loved, as the steel and light approached. A body like the one of that she loved mirrored her own. Slender. Beautiful. A forbidden thing was their passion. Two of the same ilk. Of the same sex to tangle and collide like these waves upon a shore. She had thought it wrong. Like so many others. But to be in the sea, all of that was gone. Never to learn from their actions. She stood as the light revealed that nothing would come. That she would need to go. Below the sand it stirred. Awaiting for a death. Awaiting for a life. The hands of the grave clutching ever downwards. Nails broken. Will broken. A laughter of children and of clowns. On the seaside silence no longer. Echoing of laughing as the dirt filled their mouths. Echoes of laughter as their eyes filled with worms. The steel sparrow came, its wings beating. Its eyes glaring. One more soul to catch. One more bitch down. Scarred upon the wooden tarnish of the glove box.

He scrapped with a serrated knife. She crossed the stone. And sealed her fate. Collided the two. Flesh and bone and body. With weight and steel and speed. An echoing laughter fills the air. The sparrows cry haunts the beach. The hankerchief it flutters in the wind. The black butterfly awaits its master.”

EXP:440
PWC:407

“ The blood till stained the sparrows wings, not yet dry before its eyes caught onto the glimmer of another coin in the distance. The black butterfly still waited. The eyes still watched. This one again, of doubtful self. Of unknown nature and gracious wealth. Yet for all these blessings there was nothing that could be said for her. She was at heart. A rebel ever battling against the tides of control, enforced by guardian ship and responsibility. To her the waves too looked all so tempting. So unto the bed did she fall many a time, a lock to be unloicked by many keys. To test those waters she too did rile. A person to wait upon the beach. She was to com,e, but come did she not. For that control once again found its chains and rattled around her. To bind, to falter. To trap. She screamed against that control. Clawing till her naisl broke and bed against the walls. Screaming till the hand came down. Screaming till she hit the floor. An embarrassment to the guardian ship. For that she would pay. Within blood there is power. Floating through them and bleeding into the veins of desire. The family is the body and without all parts working together, like he amgic like the spell it cannot work. Pride is something tht is like a poison. It makes you feel good feel find but you are drunken and blind to things around you that warp and change, that you believe yo are untouchable unprotected and naked you walk among the birds and sparrows. The steel and light it comes, as she breaks the door and runs for the waves and runs for the love. The man of the sparrow he laughs, as the blood upon it metal wings begins to crust and crumble in the wind. He sees the woman. She runs she runs. To be free, as the black butterfly stretches and flies. She runs on the stone. And once again. The blood it spills and feeds the spell. To collide with sparrows wings. To crush the bone. To lie on stone. A body broken. Pride. Shattered.

A circle drawn of blood and bound with that which makes us free. The madness and the waves of the blackest sea, they do stop the pride from leaving to escape and infect and poison. They keep it bound. They keep it trapped. They keep in inside. The circle of the sea did bind the girl as the sparrow carried on. Flying on wings of bound steel. Another laugh as its scraped upon the tarnished wood. “ Another bitch down”.


EXP 475
PWC:442

uddle like the mirrored eyes in the black and in the white. The blood specked on the cheek like the blood on the wing of the sparrow. A laugh, a cry, a telltale remark as one begs for hope, as one begs for life. Like the rotting breath of a disease, they lie. A paracite on the streets of reality with little to know and little to do. Connected speaks the voice of destiny as it pushes ever forwards. A shovel in a grave, a stone in the mouth. A lump in the throat. To freeze and die, would be a release, says the echoing temper of the world. To know ones end would be a freedom. Like the waves that crash upon the shore. Like the wind that carries the flight of the black butterfly. Still it waits for the one to call it home. Still it waits for its master. Yellow eyes and red, blood and pus to know the sore. Taking upon you the blood of light only further omes to strengthen the dark. Mark upon their minds the knowing of the darkness and one can se through it. Know to take the blood of the sloth. Know to thake the blood of the hunger. And one can know the blood of humanity. For what is it to be but to know hunger. For it is what engrosses and controls us all. A strongerfeeling than pride. For which she did not know. Unlucky much like the last, she had known the touch of her own kind. AN din turn her guardians had no taken such insolence well. To feel the red sting was something else upon her. To feel the red sting and to be cast out into the cold after feeling the heat of such passion. She regretted her position now. She regretted all. But regret would not feed the sparrow. Regret would not stain its wings. And in those mirrors of his eyes. He decided upon another one to feed the need. TO feed the sou;. To feed his spell.

Pages bound in the blood of sin. The one called Jack came to the night, and broke upon the heart of men he took them in. And took them out. There was death. There was disorder. And the sparrow watched, the sparrow always watched. And it smiled and grinned and knew of thigs that would go to this day. And knew of things that would stain its soul and stain the night. Spiders spinning their webs over the body, she lay in the mouth of poverty knowing naught the touch of those she lived. For those she loved had now tasted themselves the wing of the sparrow. The speed of its flight. Of steel and light.~

EXP:472
pwc:470

her now there is no safe place but sometimes jsut sometimes there is warmth there is blankets and there is a bed But like all other things in this world it is as struggle to beat the other with the same need. And those in her position there were many. The maggots of society crawling in its corpse like the emotions of a dead dog. They laugh and struggle as that magic fills them, and yet she wasn’t like them. She was one of the few. A victim of her own circumstance. Here now rejected and watched by the sparrow. She would see no warmth tonight but the blood she lay in. But the life she drowned in like the sea. She would taste the freedom like bitter slt in her veins. To know of despair is to know of the power behind it. To be knocked off a ladder is far easier than to climb out of a hole. So why do we ever climb that ladder. Brigng them down and take their pride and what are they left with but pitiless bottomless despair. A hole to never climb from as the sparrow beats ever closer. The sound of its call roaring on the empty streets. Eastern parts were crime does lay the golden laced power running through the veins of those around her. They offer her a release rom this despair. But she knows that this release is but a shoddy rope of vine and decay. To snap under the weight and break her legs. To make it ever more difficult to climb from. She stands and walks to the stone of the road to the grave where those she loved now lay and felel. A trinity complete. A circle known for its crimson power. Three a magic number to bring forth the required power. Bring them. Spill them. Beat them and leave them. The sparrow raises the sigh. It comes now close. A laugh, a knife now raised. It scrapes down one more mark to join the love. “ Another bitch down”. It cackles. And the sparrow does feed.

Broken. Battered. Alone. A paracite wiped from the face of the map. The sparrow does smirk. And in mirrored eyes he looks back. There are things there that he sees above all. One lying down in stone. Once again she knew warmth. But it as not of love. A hole to be dug. A grave to be filled. Roots to be fed. Not all that he saw. He saw in those mirrors. Yellow eyes.

EXP:439
PWC:431

But what secrets do u see in the blood of people, they say that blood is thicker than water then would it be that blood is in fact the waters of life the fountains of youth? There are those that say within these halls of power there would be darkness lingering in the corners watching and waiting and seeing all like the sparrow with his eyes of gold and amber. The blood leads to dark things but can it be turned to light. The question that haunted the winged ones for the need in power. For things of threat that come from below that come from the grave who had on scrupples about using the power within their blood. The winged ones saw the profane in it for it is profane. But they saw a way to cleanse it, to seek a power that would make it good for them and to hurt the demon. To bludgeon them with their own weapon. But twas for naught. For dark is dark and cannot be changed, the dark sees what the light does know and the light sees what the dark does do but neityher may influence the other about anything. They may fight and conflict in chaos. But ultimately the fight is unwinnable.

The eyes of the sparrow saw everything before they changed to yellow and gold. They saw within the souls of people and saw that in there lay no light but only dark. They knew that within people there was no good to see but the glittering gold of of their wants and needs and additions. Just that one light of hunger that longed us to be with another. But even that was flecked with the tints of shadow that made up their darker parts. So the sparrow knew for so he had seen in his own life. There was little more to that than to know of the horrors that wreaked him and the curse that had driven him to the yellow eyes to the prayer only a dark god would answer. The key to his new life lay on the table to make the steel wings fly and the dead lights glow. The crimson now stained upon the eyes of the sparrow to see through the stain, to know the three that had taken of his own life. That had ruined of his own existence. For the sparrow he could see things, things beyond measure that would drive even the lightest soul to purgatory and beyond,.

EXP:432
PWC:421

The touch of a family is the touch of the blood. There is power in that that is beyond the darkness. That is what they tried to take hold of that connection that bond but it was beyond them. For things tht we do not understand are in the darkness. Lost. Even if they belong to the light. But there is not a thing that one can do to prevent that darkness from reaching in, even if you grab for the light within the dark. That light will not protect you from what encroaches around. It is an evil thing. A petty thing. A small life born to two out of love and out of passion. One light and one dark to create the chaos that is existence. But love does not last, and passion i the fire that all too quickly dies . And things they never stay the same in a constant flux of change that we cannot stop, that we cannot hault. And he knew the rtuth of this. A life born now flushed out because she saw it as a mistake. . But the mistake was hers as the life she flushed out in her passion would become the thing that would haunt her. The thing that would create the sparrow. The first cry was a one of pain. And it saw.

The first stain upon the sparrows wing was that of the woman that he loved, but she had loved another. Another that was like her. The one who had been glamerous wealthy. Rich. His prayers were answered and a dark god of madness came to him. A god of bitter freedom and mercy, to release him from the chains that he was bound in. And with a laugh and a chuckle. He grabbed his things and decided it was time to take what was owed to him. And have his revenge upon the bitches who had taken his blood from him. With metal and light. And the key to his power. He entered light and steel. A flew to the beach. To mark the beginning of his time. To mark the call of the sparrow for the first and for the last. The second he found her easily, the dark god whispered to him of her deeds of her soul of what she did to others and he just laughed thinking of her brains squished under wheel. One more bitch down. One more bitch down.

EXP:420
PWC:412.

is was not something that mattered, She sinned like the rest, rotting in the corpse of society ever living and feeding off the lives of others. To the sparrow she was just another bitch partially responsible for what he had endured for what he had suffered. She and those like her would be coming. But for the reasons the blackness was planning, he knew that there was nothing to them and revenge was not in his mind. To knew the revenge of one small sparrow was little to them. But the idea was more. The black book bound in sin and written in the blood of the corrupted and wasted. That was the idea. To take it and make it and bring it some more. To bind the spells to the book and to bnring it to him. That was what was needed to fulfil the vision to know what we required. A memory fo the black butterfly. Of the man with mirrored eyes, to know what they had forgotten would be to know pain. Betrayal and loss. Better that they did not. Better that they know nothing of what was to come or what was passed. For even now the paths of history repeat itself. An eternal game of snakes and ladders, moving up and down always changing/ But never moving forward. Existance for them was bound. She was not to love. He was not to know. Only the sparrow was to fly. REMEMBER TO FLY AS THE COMPASS MOVES, NORTH SOUTH SOUTH WEST, EAST. Watch as the blood flies as the blood travels. The compass shall guide you to the gate. The tree of life does live. And the book of death does write. The book it writes itself and the sparrow does take flight.

Another bitch down. Another bitch down. Another bitch down. Scrapped into the wooden tarnish. A mark of the trinity. Three tallies. A laugh.


----- The book ends with strange symbols and marks that Jack does recognise they were similar to those marks from the book he had obtainec from that human who had wanted to rescure his daughter. They were anti demon sigils. Among other things. Instructions on how to make blood magic. The story above was...disturbing. To say the elast. He wasn’t at all surprised that this was one of the man behind the door’s books. After all it just seemed to be a work of pure and absolute madness. Yet he had noticed many things within the book. The book had been describing several blood magic rituals along with the story. He didn’t know if the story meant anything in itself. After all it seemed to be little more than absolute gibberish. Yet it was a possibility that there was a hidden meaning behind it. Most of all Jack was interested in this black book that it described in the end. A book of death that writes itself. Written by the blood of the sinners and the waste.

Perhaps it too was another grimoire of black magic rituals that he could use in his research. But...the story didn’t go into enough detail about it. Perhaps it was a fantasy. Perhaps it was not. The man behind the door chuckled almost as if he knew. But then, he didn’t really did he. The man behind the door claimed to remember nothing. But was this book not a show that there was at least seomthing in his mind? The man behind the door laughter. “ Afraid not Jack”> He said. “ I fi could remember, then I would have made my way out of this place by now. I’d become a tangible being, as things are however, I am here the books in the library are not just memories, but things that are connected to us”. Jack pondered upon that. As he tore the pages from the bookthat detailed more about the blood magic. And the story of this “ sparrow”. With the hints towards other blood magic powers. “ You think it can help you?”. Said the man behind the door. Jack looked back towards the dark tree. “ Perhaps not with that, but it certainly tells me something....and not all is as it is with this tree...or this village...or you”.

EXP: 759
PWC:720

Job roll

The member 'Jack' has done the following action : Dices roll

'10 (aka Steal) Roll' : 8