Horns and a Coffin

the green creature seemed very excited as it spoke, crumbs began to go all around the place as the red head got confortable sitting right next to the duck billed creature. not too many humans would have been able to have gotten confortable with a strange man and four strange creatures; however the red head didn't even think about that as he sat with his knees towards his chest. "Excuse you." the red head said chuckling as it burped and then fell to the the ground looking up to the sky. Victory also looked up, it was a beautiful sight; the boy had a gift, he was able to speculate the weather 100% of the time. the dark clouds were becoming storm clouds, it would rain sometime that night sooner or later. looking back at the green guy, he seemed endulged in his thoughts. the red head didn't say a word, letting him try to remember what he wanted to say. he spoke again asking what kind of stories should he tell. the red head smiled, he loved any story especially horror or suspense and so he wasn't very picky. "Any would be great." he commented sounding amused as he lit the fire. the fire was the only light besides the flash light, it was warm and conforting on a night like this.

after another pause, it sat down indian style; his expression changing with each second. Victory watched him in amusement, observing each reaction he made. he suddenly spoke up as he remembered a story, he was laughing as he spoke about a missing Island; Victory was excited, but then seeing as though everyone else was glaring his expression became confused. looking back and forth, he was about to ask when the creature said that its a fun story that should be shared. the tale began and Victory listened attentively, he was very interested as the creature explained detail by detail the story. it was a tragedy, a genre the boy new very well; his heart beat softly as explained the child piece by piece. he wasn't sure if he was telling a fake story or one that happend in reality, but either way the boy soaked up every detail like a sponge. so much so that he could practically imagine the whole sceanery, he could practically smell the salt in the air and hear the ocean sway in and out from the shore. as he explained that the man had found some sort of precious scraps, the red head thought of a few interesting things to find; nothing he thought was what he found though. his head slightly tilted in confusion as he mentioned sea shells, he never once thought of it as something special until just now. he explained the colors and what he did with them, he even said how the young man stayed there all day.

it was an interesting story, but the red head had no idea how it was going to make a dramatic twist. as the green cloaked creatured mention that the boy was going to return hom, he also gave some details about the young mans home. it sounded a bit intense as he himself felt a small twist in his stomach as if something sickening was about to happen. he explained the five people who the young man lived with and then mentioned about a crimson colored floor. the red heads heart beat began to pick up speed as he explained in detail what have happend, his expression soon became pale as his heart stopped the second he mentioned internal organs. the creature suddenly stopped and Victory silently let go of the breath he was holding. the cat spoke up saying something strange, the boy figured that what he was telling was indeed a true story. he didn't know of who, but he was very curious about the ending. all was silent, all was still; it took a few moments for the red head to find his voice. "... and, what happend next?" he asked still wanting him to finish the story despite the uneasy sensation it was giving him.

"Ke-He-He! You want to hear more? Greedy lil' you! Ke-He-He! I'll gladly tell you more of this fun fun fun story! But of course! Is it not fun? Humans are so fragile!" An almost evil looking grin appeared across the energetic being's face as it laughed out loud again, the being of pure innocence finishing its snack of bread. The other creations listening with just as much interest as Victory appeared to have, except for entirely different reasons. They were the guards of stories such as the one which had been only partially told, to secure and protect truths which are embedded in stories told by the night time fire.

They will go to whatever it takes even if it means to warp truth to fiction create fiction into truth. Though, as fare as the cloaked creature spoke, even it knew its job, and did it well. Manipulating the story as it went from simple memory changing the climax, changing he tragedy, keeping the same meaning but having an entirely different story. As it spoke again its raspy voice seemed to resound across the small group of people. "There is one condition though. Tell me! Answer me! Show me! What do you think this story is going to turn into hmm? A simple human turning away from tragedy? Or perhaps this human was a murderer! Who knows? This is the price for a story such as this. Give me your best guess your gut feeling! Where will this story lead, how will it end? Now then, we're listening."

As the fire flickered in the night, clouds entered into sight even more so, these dark specters watching from above as they float away from humanity. Their perspective completely different from the ground dwellers which the so envy. A small breeze came from the south, the leaves rustled as one leaf slipped from its grasp, entering into the roaring fire. All the while, Kronsire watched the leaf with envy, his head moving along with every turn and movement the doomed leaf took. Until finally, all that was left was white ash.

the green little creature seemed amused at the red heads enthusiasm; it laughed all the mean while as it spoke, saying how much of a fun story it was. It wasn't a fun story; if anything it was terrible, well told but gruesome. the boy kept a stern gaze as the green little creature questioned him; his heart stopped at the question. he didn't understand what kind of question was that; the story was disturbing and yet the creature laughed as if it was a comical story. the only thing that gave away the red heads emotions was his trembling blue eyes which reflected the creatures almost evil looking grin as he said that humans were fragile. at this he turned his head away, shielding his face with his hair as it laughed. sure he could be taking the story all too seriously, but then again he wasn't the only one tensed. the creatures around him seemed to have been on guard as if there was something wrong with what the creature was telling him. sure humans were fragile on the outside... but they were also powerful in the inside!

as the creature finished its bread it spoke again, the red head seemed to have slightly calmed down a bit ignoring the dark spirit in the story. as the creature said that there was one condition, the red head slightly gulped; not knowing what to suspect, he listened attentively as he to what was the condition. his heart slowly picked up its pace again as he demanded him to speculate where the story would end. the red head stared blankly at the creature as it spoke telling him the price for such a tragic story. the fire flickered, it got darker; a cold wind blew by and knocked a leaf into the furnace of the fire. the crackling sounds echoed in the silent night as the red head finally came up with a response. "how do I think the story would lead?... I believe that the story leads to a life of solitude, regret and pain..." he says slightly looking at the ground. " although then again that all depends on the young man. after a gruesome scene like that, it's no wonder that someone would go mad... however, I don't think the story ends. I think that the story has just begun... even if the man lived a torturous or murderous life, it is what we make of it and in the end..." he looks back up at the green creature with a smile on his face. "Who knows maybe the young man might meet a strange elf that would befriend him despite anything he had done in his life..."

the answer the red head gave wasn't one the average human would give, but then again Victory was anything but average. keeping his face set to a serious expression, his blue eyes were on fire, he was being sincere and was saying how he really felt. he believed the young man they were talking about was Kronsire and even though there is a huge chance that he could be a vicious murder or criminal, he wanted to befriend the lonely knight; he wanted to understand how he felt, no one deserved to live a lonely life not even him.

Moving ever so slightly, the Knight's left arm stretched out, his armor reflecting the light off of the fire as the heat warmed his inner body; twisted and warped from years without experiencing the sun, nor the moon. Snow white skin was hidden beneath the metal shell as it clattered and creaked with every movement, possessing no loop holes when it came to defense, protecting every square inch of the human who laid right under the surface. Truth be told, Sire thought of very few thins in his mellow life of wandering, but this husk of a man always found it interesting that such a thing layer of metal can cause so much change to one's image, both outside and inside. The fact that this darkened helmet hid his unknown visage was almost horrific to the man, as he had never gazed upon a face he could call his own. Only the appearance of a cruel knight could he call his own; time and time again Sire would try lifting the helmet off only for both hands to shake and fidget until they fall to his sides, void of life. Having paid attention to the story so far he noticed several differences since the last time the same story was told, and the differences before that, as if to infinity the story had been changed to such fine degrees that the shell collector seemed more like another person, and not himself any longer.

Turning his right hand back and forth, Sire's hidden eyes scanned his own armored hand with curiosity as the dark metal seemed red from the blazing fire. Dropping the arm to his side again, Kronsire could no stand the words he heard the red haired stranger spoke. Having long etched into his own mind that monsters are meant to be alone in the dark, and to devour the fools who tread in their foul mist. Showing no outward emotions, the dark knight gritted his teeth from with in as he battled the inner ghosts of his conscious. Remembering the days of violence, destruction, and company. Faces of those who used to tread the island, which the green cloaked creation had made as the setting for the story, leaked into the very front of his brain. Each face a different man, woman, and child who all no longer breathed the same air, who no longer walked under the sun, and who no longer could enjoy the sweet tastes of midsummer wines, made from but the meager plants which grew on the isolated island. Unconsciously shaking his head as the stranger answered the masked creation's question, Sire leaned back onto the ground suddenly; the angel being having to jump off quickly or else be squished beneath the hulking mass of flesh and metal.

Fluttering in the air like a butterfly, the angel landed safely on the ground as the giant hit the ground with all of his weight. Looking over her shoulder she rubbed the back of her head with an unknown stress, as the angel walked over to the cat, sitting next to the devilish being. All the while, listening to the comments and movements of the red haired one.

As the nightly stranger finished answering, the cloaked being laughed in joy, clapping its hands rhythmically as it played back the answers in its mind. A face of utter joy etched on its face, as it shook its head vigorously in acceptance. "Good! Good, good, good! I like the answer! Much different than the others who fled in terror! T-E-R-R-O-R! Ke-He-He! Alright then! Perhaps your correct... perhaps your wrong! We'll just have to find out! And what better way to find out is to continue such a joyful story full of secrets and devastation!"

Taking a deep breath the cloaked being stretched its arms and legs, as if about to run a race, that is when it began, its mask looking like a surprised expression as it continued, again.

"Running away, as fast as his legs could carry him, the boy ran and ran! Haunted by the deathly expressions of his family, their organs already beginning to attract bugs. The boy's memory became fuzzy as he continued running into the forest which he had exited from earlier, the moon long since risen. All the faces were glued inside his skull, each one seeming to slide down into view as the last went out of sight. First, the rough man who was the boy's father came first, the solid chin covered in blood, the man's eyes clearly filled with an outward hate for humanity. Then came the mother, a slim figure, wrinkled and aged from time, her body depicting a life of giving new life to different humans, her rich gore covered attire depicting her intelligence with the dice, and a never ending lust and greed for more. As they faded, then the boy's siblings came into picture, his younger brother, baby faced and yet raised to accept pain and dish out vengeance to those who slighted him, blue sparkling eyes to deceive any who walked close. Then came the older sister, a tomboy, muscular and strong faced like her father, her body already ravaged by alcohol and daily excursions for materials for herself. The family came and went, but the memories stayed, the harsh memories of violence, struggle, and anger still remained in the living boy's heart, the seed of violence already beginning to grow. To top it all of, there remained one visage in the shell collector's mind, which would not leave s easily, would not be blurred. A young girl, her face structure almost exactly the same as the boy's, his twin sister, the one who rested against the door frame, disemboweled, and festered with untouched emotions. This young face tainted by the unknown violence, however committed, looked directly into the boy's minds eye."

"A gentle soft voice could be heard to the boy at the back of his head, a soft uttering and a faint buzz. As the child ran, he reached the tree he had placed all the shells he had collected over the years at, he walked slower than he usually did. Each step feeling heavier, harder to manage. All the while an incomprehensible voice whispered into the child's ear. Turning his head back and forth, he saw no one, not a soul nearby. Trying to grip his sanity the boy slumped over leaning against the young tree, as both hands clawed had his skull. The voice soon becoming louder, and louder, no longer a whisper in his ear, but a wailing banshee from the deepest part of his brain. A grotesque psychological monster birthed from the devastation of the boy's family, and only security. The voice of his twin sister who protected him the most, both emotionally and physically, from his own feral family. Her voice yelled, screamed, and tore the child to pieces within his mind, her sobbing voice asking him why did he not protect her, why did he not save her, why did he not die with her. With eyes almost bulging out of his sockets, the boy let out everything he had in a scream of horror throughout the woods. Screaming to nobody but himself that he was sorry, so sorry."

"Between sobs and heart broken terror, the boy pounded his fists against the young tree until he collapsed, bloody, and tired. The moon looming over head still as the child woke up, not knowing how long it had been, a few minutes, an hour, or days, the boy did not know. His eyes swollen and red, his face flushed, and hands shredded and splintered. Soon, a laugh broke out, a laughter filled with hatred, sorrow, and dipped in an unknown intent. Standing up, the boy took a deep breath, a crazed smile etched into his face as he stomped on the shells it took years to collect, scattering the broken shells of numerous colors and types. Fragments decorated the ground near the bloodied tree, as the child's foot became stabbed and punctured, spewing blood from the wounds. Limping further and further into the forest, a familiar voice could be heard once again to the boy. A voice of the dead, created by the mind, his twin's voice came back again, no longer screaming, no longer accusing. However, this gentle voice easily manipulated the already impressionable boy, as he dragged his feet towards a hovel he knew well. A home of those who could be called neighbors, the fragmented child walked to this building, unlighted to conserve resources. Without even knowing what he had done, the child awoke the next morning, resting on a nearby tree within the forest, a small pile of five heads caressing the boy's cheeks. As a young baby's bright blue eyes started into the boy's soul, he could do nothing but stare back with eyes as deep wild as the untamed forests. No longer possessing a conscious mind, the occurrence happened every night, soon the underpopulated island became populated with but one being."

As Victory answered the green creatures question, the dark night shook his head and he leaned back on the ground. the angelic being quickly switched from being with the night to sitting with the cat. she seemed a bit stressed out as the red head finished speaking. the grean creature however was very pleased at his answer as it laughed and clapped its hands; his expression seemed to have been full of excitement and delight, as it nodded Victory knew he had accepted his answer. he spoke saying how much he liked the answer and even said how others would have fled in fear, however he never said if his answer was right or wrong. sure his body wanted to leave, but he himself didn't want to. as the creature called the story joyful, the young kid slightly tightened his grip around his knees; his face still keeping a firm expression, he slightly prepared himself for what he was going to say. the grean creature took in a deap breath before putting up a cute act, he seemed a bit surprised as he continued the story again.

the red head was lost in the story as soon as it began, he could practically see the kid running for his life; running from himself, his own mind that was driving him mad. he could relate, not that he physically killed his parrents; but on the fact that there faces still haunts him. his stomach twisted as he mentioned organs, but not as bad as when he described each person that he saw in his head. starting with the hateful father, then the bloody mother, the younger two faced brother and even the drunked older sister. each one gave there own sickening feeling in the red heads heart. words had spirit. he could practically taste the abuse as he mentioned them, the anger he felt was very detestable. it was disgusting; if it weren't that he had a very strong stomach he would have probably been ill by now. but everything stopped as he mentioned the the boys twin sister, such sadness he felt out of that one; for a moment he could almost feel as if the eyes were staring directly at him. becoming a bit tensed he slightly bent closer as he continued the story.

a cold breaze blew by as he explained how the boy heard a gentle voice; it was a very cold night, but Victory didn't feel it. endulged in the story he listened how the boy finally reached the tree where he had placed all of his shells, and how he felt for him when he mentioned how he tried to hold onto his sanity. his heart began to pick up its pace again as he said how the voice was getting louder and louder till finally thunder stroke from above shattering and mixing in with what the green creature was explaining. it was as if it was on cue, as if it was the grand opening for this monster a false. the red headed teen quickly understood what went wrong, his twin sister held his sanity and as soon as she died so did his sanity. closing his eyes, he felt as if this sudden story was trying to tear him apart. the twisted phyicotic tale was barely bearable for anyone to listen especially if one was very spiritually open as in Victory's case. yet he still listened as he explained detail to detail how the twins death began to eat away the young boy till finally a bloody scream escaped his lips. thunder stroke yet again, yet it was much louder then before; a false scream was herd in the back of Victor's mind, it was of the boys replaying in the back of his head. causing the red heads eyes to jolt open.

Depression, insanity, and death; the three things he hated the most was what occured in the story. Depression was the first part of the scene, insanity was the result which ended in death. it something he should have anticipated since the begining, everytime there was depression, insanity was to follow... and where there was insanity, a bloody death always ended it. but what happend next wasn't what the red head anticipated, he wasn't expecting the gentle voice to manipulate the boy... especially into killing the neighbores. a sickening and gagging like feeling was at the back of the red heads throat as he mentioned how the child woke to a pile of heads. the red heads eyes widened in pure horror at this, it was something so sickening he couldn't even imagine. as he concluded the story, the red head was quiet for a brief moment. for a moment he couldn't speak at all, he felt as if he would puke if he were to open his mouth. but a question tugged at the back of his mind, pushing him to speak. [color:blue]"... did-... did he want to kill them? did he mean it?"[/color] he asked sounding a bit confused, scared and also somewhat naive. Victory was such a curious child who wanted to understand the world around him, even though the world is a dark and gloomy place.

Clapping its hands to a song unknown, the energetic being's eyes looked around its group of avid listeners, judging their thoughts by how their body movements. Its mask changing again to its normal expression of circular eyes and mouth, its hood moving in a slight gust of wind, as it looked up to the sky witnessing the formation of a storm. Shrugging, the masked child giggled happily, as it stopped clapping, paying close attention to Victory's question on whether the shell collector wanted to kill his victims; the amount of feeling which such a warped child would feel. Standing up to its two feet in height, the story teller held up its hand gesturing for a moment. Before it began rummaging through its brown explorer back pack, tossing out flashlights, maps, pencils, coloring books, garbage, and a yo-yo. In a small frenzy, the duck billed creation dodged and ducked the incoming toys, diving, rolling, and ducking for cover behind the cat and angel who both looked irritated at the time.

Annoyed by the fact that their energetic counterpart was going to such great lengths for a total stranger, which should have left at the first appearance of Kronsire, their creator and burden. Though the hidden albatross which Sire held in the deep depths of his mind was not one to be solved, in all truth, as he laid staring into the clouded sky a midst the darkness, he remembered the island vividly. Like a dream just with in grasp of his metal hands, a far off imaginary land filled with wild abandon, hardships, not to say a small amount of love sorely missed. However, just like a dream, it ended, the memories drowned in darkness, locked into the prisons of unconsciousness. The metal knight reaching its left hand upwards as the flashlight came overhead, clutching the small piece of technology. Toying with the object Kron switched it on and off in the knight as his other hand played across the smooth magenta colored plastic.

Only but a minute passed, perhaps even less, as the story teller stopped throwing everything behind its head. In its covered hands a small trinket, but a small wooden box, its metal latch rusted with age, the corners long rubbed down into mere curves. Sitting down again, it laid the small container, as plain as could be, on its lap, barely covering a third of its legs. With a wild grin, the masked creation ran through the words which Victory had spoken.

"Did he mean it? Did he want to? Such an odd question! Nobody, I mean, N-O-B-O-D-Y, has asked that question before! Ke-He-He! Fun fun fun! I'll tell you what! I'm not that murderer, but, I'll be more than happy, happy, to give you a good answer! Ke-He-He! Now then, would such a person, abused, mistreated, his entire life want to experience the feeling of inflicting pain on others? Maybe this boy had desires his entire life of revenge, and was but only held back by his sister? Hmm? Possible. Though would that be realistic? To someone who had collected shells his entire life out of, loneliness, perhaps he did kill out of pure insanity, not meaning to kill the island population. Maybe this little trinket will come in handy for sorting that question out hmm?"

Taking the box, the robed hands slipped the latch off, lifting the lid, so that the contents could not be seen by Victory. The hinges creaking in the night, as the light brown wood was moved slowly as to not break. The box ancient, inside it laying a compacted piece of paper, yellowed with age. Scribbled upon in ink, names from top to bottom, scratched or crossed out. Taking the paper out, as it crinkled in the air, the being laughed as it showed Victory the list of crossed out names.

"This makes me think that he may have meant to kill all of the people, after all who makes a hit list per say? Maybe the boy did not want to decapitate and gut his victims, but the intent seems to be there. Then again... Ke-He-He... who can see into the mind of a murderer such as that boy, long dead from old age, or perhaps even died from his insanity, who knows? I don't... Ke-He-He! You have odd interests for a person, but I forgive all!" With an almost innocent grin it seemed vile, the creation chuckled in the fire light as it glanced at the tree for but a second, returning its hard gaze at Victory.

The green creature giggled as the red headed elf asked his question. He then suddenly stood and gestured for a moment, allowing Victory the opportunity to guess what would be his answer. There was a good possibility that the boy had went mad and wasn’t self-conscious of everything he did, but then again that possibility was very low. Victory was the type to try to see the goodness of people, he was taught that everyone had a light inside and that despite what they do; there is always I lighter side. Then again, a human can only take so much; revenge is something most humans are a slave to. It is almost instinct for humans to react when they feel threatened, injured or insulted and most of them tend to take vengeance. Knowing all this, the red head still wanted to know for himself the dark truth.

As the red head was indulged in his thoughts, the green little creature was going crazy as he desperately dug deeply into his bag tossing multiple objects out and snapping the teen back into reality. He was very curious as to why he was digging in his bag and at the same time surprised that he had so many toys. He wanted to ask what he was doing and as well what did this have to do with answering his question, but instead he stayed quite. His deep blue eyes watched and moved from side to side as each toy were tossed nearly hitting his duck billed friend. Watching the strange creature run around and behind the other two, he noticed that the angel and the cat seemed very annoyed by their green friend. The air was pretty tensed and the red head knew that he should be leaving, but he just didn’t. Sitting hugging his knees he waited almost impatiently as the green creature dug in his bag. A flash of light suddenly caused him to look at the iron giant; it was almost funny watching him play with the flashlight, it made him look gentle and almost childish. Victory knew nothing of this silent warrior, though he would have never suspected him to have had a really harsh life.

The little green creature soon spoke up repeating the teens question, Victory turned his attention back on him and noticed that he had stopped searching in his bag and was now sitting with something in its lap. It was pretty small wooden box that seemed very old; it caught the red heads attention very well as he scanned it taking note of every detail. The green creature held a big grin as he spoke and explained how no one had ever asked that question before; it didn’t surprise him much, seeing as though Victory was different than the average person but what he said next and all so happily was what was chilling. His question was answered by more questions, where in the question was a slight answer that wasn’t really an answer but it was to get one to think. “I don’t really understand how you…” he said bearing a confused expression as he bend down on all four to see what was in the box, but the way the creature was holding it he could barely see a thing.

Suddenly while laughing the two foot creature pulled out an old slip of paper; the paper was covered in a list of crossed out names. Victory was taken back as he stared into the list in shock; he couldn’t really read it, but his jaw dropped as he recognized that they were names. All of a sudden the red head felt as if he had a knot in his stomach, he didn’t want to believe it but what the creature said next confirmed it. It took him a moment to cope with everything he had said; having been taken back by the list he found himself in a very difficult position to stand up, last time he checked he was on all four trying to get a glimpse at what was inside the box. Now he found himself with on his knees and his back against the tree as if he were startled. The boy wanted to stand up feeling a bit embarrassed at his (bad habit like) position, but the way he was sitting he couldn’t really do so. Looking very uncomfortable, he tried to say something; he wasn’t sure if he was afraid or if it was because he wasn’t expecting the outcome, drops of rain soon began to fall.

For a brief moment he was silent, he didn’t move nor say anything as rain drops began to drip and fall down slowly. Finding himself facing the ground he finally lifted his head to face Kronsire, his red hair covered one complete side of his expression while the other revealed it. It was a mix of confusion, sadness and wonder; a strange combination that isn’t seen too often. “What now?” he suddenly said as the drops fell softly. “Now that everyone is dead, what’s next? A life of solitude…”

As water droplets began to fall down to the rotten earth, the child like creation quickly hunching its body over the paper, as it quickly folded the yellowed note into its compacted form. Not wanting the past to be eradicated, the robed being stopped laughing as it fumbled with the box for a minute, as it despairingly fought against the rain which came. The struggle looking somewhat pathetic from the eyes of the malevolent cat. The duck billed creature then hurried over as it took the worn box from the energetic creature, opening the box, then shoving the paper in side. The list making its way back to its abode, were the information would then be allowed to crumble into dust in due time.

All the while, Kronsire rested, as water splattered against his metal cage, small streams running across his helmet like tears never shed. Though, as the dark knight listened to his small creatures explanation end, he shrugged, the armored man not caring much for is past. Not to mention that the story told had been warped, the Knight never having collected shells before in his life, but the mere idea of having a set history, even if false, gladdened Kronsire. Who looked from behind his black helmet at the one known as Victory, which laid against a tree.

Kron listened to the sudden question, the knight twisting himself onto his side, ignoring the gentle rain. The heavy armor burying itself in the dirt, which started to become moist and muddy. Sire felt no emotion at the time, his elbow buried in the grass, and his protected head on his chin. Not speaking, and barely audibly breathing, Kron just let his gaze fall upon Victory's face, a silent stare filled to the brim with apathy. If one could see beneath the helmet which bound the silent giant's identity, they would only see the husk of a man, pale and frail on the outside. His husk filled with inner torment, as the voice of his deceased sister still loomed. Rattling inside his skull hideous ideas and goals.

A moment past, were Kronsire did nothing but watch Victory's movements, as the creations tried shoving the numerous toys back into their friend's bag. It was a rather comical sight, as the Angel stomped on a coloring book, as the other three held the bag as wide open as it could stretch. The malevolent cat having in its jaws a drawstring from the back pack, as it tried closing the bag of goodies, once the coloring book was pounded inside. From seriousness to laughter the four beings of Sire sat around in the rain, covered in mud, and water just laughing at each, content that the story was over. After all, they may be in charge of Sire's past, but it does not stop them from forgiveness.

Looking over his shoulder, their creator waved, singling out the angelic being. Her presence graceful, as she walked over from the group, she lightly climbed over Kronsire's spiked armor, settling under his chest, to stay dry. At the moment, the Angelic being's wings were hidden, but she still had a presence of inspiration so it seemed. Her smooth shoulder plates rubbing against the scratched and well used cage of Kron's.

The angel did not hear the question from before, nor did the others, who were entranced at the moment with placing their belongings in Kronsire's coffin. Reaching behind his body, Kronsire created a waterproof piece of paper, with his ability of creation. Lifting his hand back over he placed the small sheet of paper in the angel's small soft hands. The small piece of paper, laminated, had the question which Victory had spoken. And with a nod, the small woman spoke, directly at Victory, her eyes blazing like campfires.

"They are dead. And this fella right behind me is now just a shell. What's next? Nothing, short and simple. He made his choices, and I see no point in hiding the truth now, as that energetic one ruined the whole idea of secrecy. Kronsire will live his existence as penance, most likely, and that road is long. I had not planned for this possibility, but there's no point in hiding it now. While this knight follows his goals, we will," the angel stopped as she gestured to herself and her counterparts with a wry smile, "merely follow and nudge him onto different paths if need be."

Upon hearing the response, Victory was at first just staring with a blank expression before sighing and standing up. “If that’s the case then there is no arguing.” He said now covered in mud. He was indeed a bit shaken up by this whole trip and probably may be prone to having a few nightmares, but in the end he was still glad that he had met them; though they were very weird. “No one can change the past and though people had died… in the end we are all punished for our own sins… though I really don’t think he has to punish himself anymore for what had happened… though I can’t really say I agree with what had happened, I am very glad that he has friends that would follow him until the end.”

Looking back at the green energetic looking creature he spoke without fear as if he had over looked the sins Kronsire had commited. “I’m glad that you have trusted me enough to have told me such a secret… don’t worry, I won’t tell a soul what had happened here… it will stay our little secrete.” And with that said the red head gave Kronsire a kind smile before giving him a thumbs up. “Welcome to the coalition…” he said as if nothing had ever happened, as if the depressive frantic story was never even mentioned, as if he was never once afraid. The rain slowly began to stop and the red head looked up seeing the clouds clear and the full moon shine. He still wasn’t quite aware that the storm was created by him, but at the moment it did’t really matter since he had a few things he needed to catch up to…

(Yes I know Kronsire dies, but still…)

Shifting in the muddy grass, Kronsire scratched his helmet as if it where his head, paying no attention to the rain which down poured; he was only half paying attention to Victory at that moment, as the knight had noticed a bird's nest above in the tree. Standing up, the angelic being moved quickly, not wanting to be squashed, as she headed for the large man's coffin, which was all packed up and ready, the other three of her counterparts peering outside from a makeshift window, that was a hole in the side of the box.

Running over, she lifted the lid, before Victory had finished talking, as the one foot tall woman climbed inside, and closed the lid. The green cloaked being waved from inside the box, having been acknowledged by the point eared boy. The four creations waiting for their burden to carry them over to the village, or use his own skills to create a make shift shelter for the night. As they curled up, and dried up in the coffin, Kronsire loomed over the one known as Victory.

His dark horned helmet creating metallic sounds, as each rain droplet pounded against his armor. No longer watching the bird nest, Sire just stood where he was, his metal boots making metal imprints in the mud, every time he moved. His eyes watching the boy's thumb go up, as the words of welcoming were spoken. In Sire's heart he did not feel any different, just cold for some reason.

Taking a few steps backwards, the dark knight waved slowly, his hand going side to side. The rain was driving him to seek shelter somewhere, perhaps in the village nearby, but the man did not feel like creating a shelter at the moment. Grabbing the chains, that laid on the ground, the Knight tossed them over his coffin, and locked, tied, and curled the chains around one another.

Lifting the cumbersome object, he wore it on his back, and looked again at Victory, who by then would be a few feet away, unless the person had moved. Nodding to Victory, the husk of a human looked at the tree where he had just been sleeping a while ago, and then he looked at the small village in the distance. Without a word, without a sound, Kronsire took his first step towards the village.

(OOC- You can post a reply then close the thread, or I can close it after your reply, up to you, just let me know in an OOC.)

Bright blue eyes glowed in the dark as the red headed teen stared back at the dark knight; despite the fact that he looked quite frightening as he stood above him, the red head kept his same unfazed expression. Kronsire just stared at him for a brief moment before taking a few steps back from him. The red head just watched in silence as the solitude giant suddenly stopped again, but this time he did something unsuspected… he had actually waved acknowledging him. A big smile suddenly appeared on the red heads face; it may not have been much, but for Victory it was a huge step. Despite his past, he really liked Kronsire and his really strange pals; he didn’t think that one should be based on what they’ve done in the past, but of what they do now and seeing as though he was joining the coalition he couldn’t have been that bad.

As Kronsire prepared himself to leave, he locked up his coffin tight before lifting it up. Victory was now a few feet away with his hands shoved in his pockets; he didn’t really want to go his separate ways after just recently meeting Kronsire, but he had to get back before dawn. The giant then looked back at the red head again and this time nodded towards him causing the teens smile to only widen. It was quite dark, but the red heads face was very visuable. “We’ll meet again soon!” he said as Kronsire turned to walk away. “I promise, the next time I’ll treat all of you to something!” the boy was really happy that he had met the dark knight; though he wasn’t the average character he still enjoyed meeting him. Waving good bye as the Knight walked away, the red head suddenly had this soft dread like feeling chilling up his spine. The boy paused as he looked at the sky; his blue eyes seemed as though they were almost white. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling at that time, but he did had this sudden feeling like something bad was going to happen. Grabbing his backpack and putting it back over his shoulder, he began to make his way north towards his original destination.

Little did the red headed elf have any idea that it was the first and the last time he would ever see his friend again; for not long after Kronsire dies a saddened death. Two weeks after Kronsires death Victory returns to this very spot. The wind blows as the rain fell; they never could recover his friend’s body and that fact bothered him even more as he walked towards the same tree he was under. Falling onto his knee’s the red head held unusual flowers in his hands. “Adams needle, for a friend in need… Allspice, compassion… Asphodel, Regret… Pink Carnation, I will never forget you… … Lotus, mystery and truths that were revealed… Marjoram: Comfort and Consolation… Dark pink rose, thank you… Sweet pea, departure… Cyclamen, goodbyes… forget me not, for I will never forget you…” he said as he placed each distinctive flower under the tree. Thunder rumbled in the distant, but the red headed teen paid no heed as he sat there emotionless. Tears slightly treckled down his cheeks as he whispered his last words. “Goodbye, my dear friend.”

End Thread…