Fantasy Grim's Games

[voracity]

Withering Tower​

The underworld is vast and far-reaching. At the fringes, there is nothing to be found but gaping maws of void and abyss ready to take the foolish and careless who dared to traverse the dead and uncared for lands, hellfires that have been fueled by the fury and indignation of the denizens since the beginning of time. No matter where one finds themselves in this nightmarish scene - the Withering Tower is a crumbling, ruinous, structure seen from every possible angle and place in the underworld. There, 8 Kings have long made it their home, their court, and have built their thrones at the top of it. Now, all that remains is 1 throne, and 7 Kings stretched far too thin to tend to the Tower, or to indulge in royal luxuries.

Well. At least most of them are too busy to indulge themselves.

Pride was the eldest of his sin-siblings, although they did not bother to count the years between them all, he had always been the most capable, the first to take point ... even if it was because he would have pushed aside anyone else, for he was unwilling to let anyone walk ahead of himself, he would confidently say that in any contest, he'd come out on top, no matter which sibling it was he found himself squaring off against. And naturally, due to his better disposition and capabilities, he found himself with a far larger workload than some of his ... less capable siblings. Naturally. It was a mark of honor to bear the weight of responsibility when there were those who could not do so. But it was also bullshit and unfair.

Stewing in frustration at the tippy top of the Withering Tower, Pride's tail swung from side to side as he struggled to find a solution to his troubles. He knew without a doubt that Sloth was elsewhere doing everything other than what he was supposed to do, and Wrath who would gleefully perform his duties, but also quickly realize it wasn't as fun as letting his toys live to fight another day. How was the underworld supposed to properly run when there were so many souls and denizens roaming around like this was an amusement park?! He casted an eye down as he made his descent, realizing that his lunch break was over, but when he landed on the bare and ruined throne room, his eyes were fixed on the empty, silver throne ... reverently ... and then ambitiously.

Spicy Plaza​

Claire stomped on the urge to gag as she peered at the menu put on window display of the noodle shop. What kind of dish needed Eyeballs and Fish Lips as its core ingredients?! And it wasn't just this noodle shop that featured exotic meals and ingredients either, the whole god damn street featured all kinds of weird things and body parts she'd never heard of before. "Someone surely has died from eating this, they must have," Claire reasoned with herself as she began to walk away from the shop. At that moment though, her stomach growled and her steps came to a stop. "...No, no, no ... I'll definitely die if I ate that, a painful, horrible, and embarrassing death in the restrooms, I just know it," she tried to convince herself, but still couldn't take the next step.

Somehow she found herself in the alley, between the noodle shop and the pizza store beside it, right where the kitchen doors were. As it was lunch rush, no kitchen staff populated the alley with their weird green smoke or other hallucinogenic-recreational-herbs. It was safe. For now. Even if she couldn't eat, she could at least ... imagine it, right? Through smell alone?

Her stomach began drumming again, and this time, she couldn't help but to scream, "I get it! Shut up, already!"

This time, she got an answer - and it wasn't from her stomach. The door she had been leaning on swung open, sending her sprawling off the little steps she'd been sitting on. Upon seeing the confused - and quickly angering - expression of the chef who raised his gigantic meat cleaver, Claire took off running out of the alley, and right into someone else!

moronface

 

[moronface]

With his head cast downwards, Kaleb walked at a brisk but refined pace, with each step appearing more calculated and unwavering than the next. Although his expression remained mostly hidden, his serpent-like way of shirking around any obstacle - be it humanoid, monster, or pest - made it easy to assume he was very sure of his destination and couldn't be bothered with anything else. However, everything was bothering him. If he were to raise his head for even a moment, whoever glanced at him would surely assume he was picking a fight with them. His brow was furrowed, his lip curled, and his eyes darting from scene to scene became more and more repulsed by what was seen.

You see, he, too, was not fond of the gross and unkempt environment he now had to call home. The fang peeking out from under his lip made that all but clear - he was a vampire bound to hell. The long life he was used to back on mother earth was a much more elegant, refined, and...delectable one. Back home he has status. He has worshippers. Well... he had up until his most trusted follower decided to stick a stake through his back. Et tu, Brute? He let out a dramatic huff with this thought. Just thinking about it was getting him all worked up. Naturally, he rationalizes this with a vendetta to rebuild his cult empire amongst the denizens of hell this time around. And when he's finally won over everyone and the grim reaper, he'll head back up one last time and go solidify that traitors place in hell with his last, savory taste of real, human--

Wham! A smaller, female figure slams into him and falls to her feet, scraping her knee slightly.

"...Blood?" He peers down at her with an icy but confused expression, stomach growling. The scent of her blood was oddly fresh, nothing like the rotting gunk in most demons, that is, among those that even have any left. And strangely, he took no impact from the collision. "Exactly who are...no. What type of demon are you supposed to be?"

 

[voracity]

Oh no, she thinks, and immediately her nerves began to fray, her fingers begin to tremble, and panic begins to settle in as her escape is cut off. She slowly raises her head, taking in every inch of the man who stood before her. She saw skin that looked human, yet held a color that decidedly deathly unhealthy, a posture that was proud and betrayed his standing, but what made her gasp out loud was the sharp fangs that protruded from the man's lips. To see someone so human, and yet utterly defiling everything that was possibly human, was mind-numbing.

Paralyzed, she hadn't even noticed the scratches at her knee until it was pointed out. She knew she had to think fast - and probably try to run even faster if she wanted a shot at living past this unfortunate encounter. Licking her lips, she spoke, though she failed to suppress the fear that stuttered in her heart, "M-me? Uh, a disgusting one! W-Weak, and p-poi-Poisonous, actually!" She tried as she unsteadily rose to her feet. "I-it's what I, I mean what we do, we smell good, that's what everything thinks, b-b-but if you take a bite, no! I-If you even try to lick me, uh, your tongue it will," she trails off, eyes darting from left to right in search of something that may deter the hunger of this vampire. "Shrivel up ... dry up, wouldn't be able to get rid of the taste of ashes. Forever!" She nodded frantically, moreso trying to convince herself of this tall grand lie.

Patting down her modest knee-length skirt, she dips her head down, and dares not raise it to meet the cool unnerving gaze of the fanged man, "w-well, I'll get of your way now, vampire-sir - and uh, remember! It's not really blood, it's all in your head!" She insists before turning and making a run for it. Her cheeks burn with a fierce blush, chiding herself for the far-fetched lie that provided no actual answers to the question posed to her - with despair, she realized that sheer curiosity may invite the vampire to follow, and what then? What could possibly save her from such a horrible possibility?

Turning into an alley just two shops down from the encounter, she finds a good pile of cardboard boxes that had been discarded and left on the floor. What good luck! Still in a bit of a frenzied panic, she somehow convinces herself that hiding in the boxes would surely deter and fool any pursuers, and when night struck, she'd be safe enough to come crawling out to return to her listless wandering. "Just what did I do to deserve falling into this stupid pit where the food's so shit," she murmured to herself as she curled up inside a sizable cardboard box.

 

[moronface]

Spoiler: Useless flavor text for Kaleb that I scrapped

Kaleb watched with a distant, but keen interest at her initial, trembling reaction. It wasn't a scene he was unfamiliar with, but being amongst other, equally frightening denizens of hell meant that it may have, potentially, been quite a while since someone reacted to him in this way. He wouldn't admit it to himself, but that was most likely because Vampires were considered the bottom of the barrel when it came to the true hierarchy of demons. Be it from his more humanoid appearance or the cursed romanticization of them in earthly media, he couldn't tell you. But it sure makes his quest to rebuild his fear-based cult quite hard when even fellow demons are questioning him on if his skin really sparkles in the sun or not. How could I even prove that?! There's no sun in hell! ...He was getting distracted. At her gasp, his attention centered and he raised an eyebrow. Maybe she'd make a good addition to the cult?

"M-me? Uh, a disgusting one! W-Weak, and p-poi-Poisonous, actually!"

"Poisonous?!" Kaleb's voice cracked uncharacteristically as he took a nervous step back. He grew more and more perplexed as the lady rambled on, easily letting her dramatics completely overpower him despite his original strong disposition. It was only when she had finally up and taken off did he sheepishly recognize he might've lost some face had she bothered to get a second glance in. Wait...do I even need to worry about poison, as a vampire? He mused, gaining back his bearings with the clearing of his throat and fixing of his attire. Well, I suppose if it's demon poison, then...maybe? He scrunched up his face in confusion, But then again...

No, this isn't cool. He lamented, shaking his head and calming his expression. He was getting too worked up again. Poisonous or not, her reaction didn't quite match up with her words. On a second, more calm reflection, he saw it was much more likely that she was lying. It would make more sense if she was a... But is that even possible? He pondered excitedly, still hogging the alleyway much to any passerby's confusion and distaste. Moreover, her excessive stuttering reminded him of someone but he couldn't quite put his finger on who. "Hrm..." His face scrunched up again.

Suddenly, a not-so-distant, piercing screech let out. "Ah, yes. Thomas." Kaleb said in an unamused, semi-annoyed tone. He made his way in that direction.

---

"Just what did I do to deserve falling into this stupid pit where the food's so shit," she murmured to herself as she curled up inside a sizable cardboard box.

What Claire failed to notice in her panic, was an equally scrunched up body already occupying a corner of said box. He stared at her with wide, undead eyes as she climbed into the box and spoke those words, and only let out his frightened, blood-curdling scream afterward as if it were the polite thing to do.

"Wha- Wh- WHAAAAA! I'M T-TERRIBLY S-SORRY! I... I DIDN'T KNOW THIS W-WAS SOMEONE ELSES H-HIDING SPOT!" Although he shouted this, his accent and mannerisms seemed to be overly polite and shy, trying his best to avoid any direct contact by squeezing his body further into the corner and darting his eyes everywhere but at the lady in front of him.

Under the cover of the boxes, he appeared utterly normal for his age; quite lanky with clothes fit for someone a size or two heftier than him. The only odd factor was his sickly scent. Not moments after this revelation hit Claire's nose, a hand flashed forward and pulled Thomas into the open air, revealing that he was not, in fact, normal. His body was adorned with stitches connecting skins varying in texture, origin, and sometimes even size.

"So this is where you were hiding," Kaleb spoke. "You know, this is starting to become a very unpleasant pattern." He placed Thomas down, keeping one hand on him and looking at him sternly.

"A-ah, Kaleb! S-Sorry, I know I was supposed to be sp-spying on your next opponent, but I-I got spooked, and came here... and then got spooked again..."

"Yeah, I can see that." Kaleb retorted, then focusing on his gaze on Claire. "You should be more careful. This one claims she's poisonous." He pauses, getting an idea.

"Though, perhaps... we should test it?" He shoves Thomas forward, accidentally ripping out his arm in the process. Thomas squeals more in embarrassment than pain or shock, and fuddles with it to get it back into place, glancing at the lady nervously.

 

[voracity]

There was simply no time in between the events to make any sort of complaint. Having turned her head, trying to make herself comfortable, she ended up face to face with possibly the greatest fright of her life - before picking up on a remarkable ghastly odor. Until the boxes had been uncovered, Claire was occupied with recovering from having choked on her surprised screams. To think that the emergency secret hideout #??? had been so easily overtaken ... !

Once the box was opened, and the guest she had been holed up with was taken out, her face paled. Dead. Deader than dead, perhaps. The deadliest of the dead - a man animated, stitched up to walk and talk like any normal person. It was easy to spot the different skin colors that adorned his figure, the stitches that resembled dotted lines meant for scissors, or chainsaws, and the bulky tools jutting from his neck that no sane or living man could possibly sport.

And when his arm came tumbling off - she couldn't tear her eyes away from it. She opened her mouth, and screamed.

Although, this time her terror was short-lived for there was no gush of blood, no nerves or muscle that came falling out from the open wounds. What in blazes was this? How could this horrible science experiment hold itself together? How did it not fall apart in a red bloody mess?

Claire raised her gaze to meet the stitched boy's nervous gaze - and after just a moment, both Kaleb and Thomas, who were likely well acquainted with the evilness of the denizens of the underworld, would recognize the dark selfish gleam that transparently displayed itself in her gaze. It was easy to spot the dynamic between the two - and boy, oh boy, did she recognize exactly what position Thomas was in. For the first time, in a long, long while, she felt powerful, strong enough to perform some wicked dastardly tricks.

"W-Well," she began, clearing her dry and hoarse throat, doing her best to pull herself together, she stood with her back straight before the two, "your opponent, that is, in fact ... Me!" She proclaimed; at that very moment she began to curse her inability to read any of the posters that had been posted around town for the last few weeks, but thankfully through gossip and really drunk demons, she had managed to gather that there was some festival, some tournament, some party of some sort that everyone was basically a part of - this much, she could at least recall and bluff. "I must commend you for being able to see past my disguise and my lies, however!" She raised a finger, to emphasize her next point, "now that both parties have been found trying to spy and harm each other ... that definitely goes against the rules!"

She glanced between Thomas and Kaleb, trying to gauge whether her lies had any use on them before shrugging off that anxiety. If she made it convincingly enough, she wouldn't have to worry about her lies failing, right?!

"What awaits us ... is most certainly a horrible, and painful penalty, something to entertain Wrath, something that will fulfill Gluttony's hunger ... on top of being disqualified!" She shook her head ruefully - before squinting at Kaleb directly, "Unless ... you would be willing to ... negotiate something out with my ... uhhhhh ... very strong and frightening partner? I'm sure between you two understanding, fine, demon-extraordinaires, you can come to a gentlemanly understanding of some kind? Yes? He's a tall fishy - I mean, shark-like man, shirtless probably because he's just that kind of proud fellow, snacking away at Slice n' Dice!"

Whether or not Kabel had turned away to settle this sham-of-a-situation, or had been stunned by her utter nonsense, Claire immediately took the chance to grab onto Thomas' hand and pulled - ever so careful of NOT pulling the appendage right off - and ran off with the dead-man in tow.

---

"SECRET HIDEOUT #0" / SOGGY STREETS

Claire sat against the door of her little shack, the only way out of her little space, preventing the Frankenstein from getting out. And just in case he tried anything too, she had a little knife in her hands. Honestly, it wouldn't do any more than slicing apples, and Claire had no real wish to use it ... but she was riding on a high to try and bully the Frankenstein - weak he may be, shy, and powerless, but he was still a denizen of the underworld, and so surely, he would know of the way out of this horrible world? No? "Now then ... uh, what was your name again? Yes, that's a good place to start, names! And what exactly are you? Who stitched you up so well?" She tried clumsily at flattery.

 

[moronface]

"...M-My name? And who I am...? Well, I... That's...um..." He mumbled nervously, a bit overwhelmed by everything that just occurred. "S-Sorry I...I'm not used to people being so interested in me! Usually, they just give me an odd look, or tell me to go away because I smell..." He pressed himself further against the wall he was clinging to "I, um, am sorry about that, I can't control it and it's, well, you know, I try to pick the hell-maggots out, but they..." The franken-boy rambled, but upon noticing her distaste at the word maggots he decided to changed tune and answer her questions. "I'M NOBODY! I-I mean, Kaleb calls me 'Thomas', but I'm pretty sure that's just the name of someone I remind him of..." He scratches his head in mild frustration. "Sometimes he'll yell at me for things I don't remember doing, like that one time I apparently stabbed him, ended a cult, and broke his heart...Pretty sure he's just taking his anger for that person out on me. But then again I don't really remember my name...or anything else...s-so maybe I am that person?" He paused, then relaxed into a defeated slump.

Although what he said has some solid reasoning behind it, it's pretty apparent from this Thomas's mannerisms that he's probably never even thought to harm a fly. And anyone who's seen Kaleb interact with him once can tell Kaleb just uses this poor stranger's memory loss as a convenient way to play out some rather one-sided revenge fantasies. "...Even if knew for sure, Kaleb sure wouldn't want me to tell you...Ahh, what should I do!?!" He started scratching at his head again, messing up his hair similar to a confused kid before an algebra test.

It's then Thomas caught the glint of Claire's knife. With an "Eep!", he scrambled back against the furthest wall and into a defensive position, holding both his arms out like a frightened damsel-in-distress. From the tip of his finger, a little purple spark let out. Huh...? He thought, I've never been able to do that while conscious before...so why now...? He looked up at her with a peculiar shock on his face before evading her gaze in an oddly bashful manner. "A-anyways, who are you? You don't look like a formidable demon. Is someone like you really Master Kaleb's opponent...?"

---

SLICE N DICE

Kaleb had been stunned by the situation, alright. He'd never heard of any penalties for spying, much less this "disqualification" which, he assumed, was her sly way of saying they'd be killed off after some excruciating torture by the hands of the Seven. And to have to go back through that disgusting food market to remedy this situation...? Kaleb shuddered. He had his doubts about the whole charade and moreover that lady's suspicious, fresh-smelling wound, but the thought of having to rescue Thomas from his supposed opponent like a Prince going after his Princess... Well, I suppose the market isn't so bad a place.

It wasn't hard to spot the fishy fellow Claire had mentioned. In fact, it was so easy, Kaleb hovered his hand over his nose in disgust as he approached him. "Ah, are you familiar with..." He paused, his face suddenly flushing over. Her name...he didn't even know his opponent's name! Oh, how rude he had been to not even ask her name! No wonder she seemed so standoffish! He must apologize the next second he sees her! Wait, how could I even describe her...? He thought, having snapped back to the situation.

"Erm, she's.... plain and...screams a lot?" He said meekly. "She told me to see you, so that we could, erm," He was still caught up in the whole name situation, "Negotiate.... something... of mutual benefit," To anyone eavesdropping, this exchange looked rather...steamy with Kaleb's tongue-tied blushing and poor word choice.

 

[voracity]

"SECRET HIDEOUT #0" / SOGGY STREETS

"Probably not. Not yet anyway," she sighed, tiredly. Although she had hopes to get some answers - and more importantly: directions, it was going to be a difficult task interrogating an amnesic boy about it. But she wasn't going to give up here! "I haven't heard all the details yet but everyone's going to end up drafted into the tournament eventually, right? So e-even if I do end up fighting against your uh Master Kaleb, well, I'll have a partner too by then! Maybe someone strong enough to trounce on Kaleb! Wait speaking of ... nevermind me, how did a guy like YOU end up with Kaleb? Even if he's just stringing you along for some laughs, why did he want you with him in the tournament?"

Kaleb obviously didn't keep around this amnesic guy for anything wholesome and friendly. Well. Not that Claire exactly kidnapped him for anything wholesome and friendly either.

"YOU don't look like a formidable demon either, and he seems like the kind of guy who wouldn't want uh ... you for something this important ... there's gotta be something ... some ... secret about you ..." she squinted at him, gulping. The knife in her hand shook, betraying her fear. Well, there was a chance that guy would forget about everything anyway, right? So maybe there wouldn't be any harm in ... disclosing her own secrets? Or maybe ... affirming a suspicion of hers? Recalling the faint purple sparks that he emitted earlier, she took another gulp, and re-positioned her firm grasp over the knife.

"W-Were you ... also human, when you first came here?" She asked him quietly, watching him intently.

 

[moronface]

“Me, human...?” He mimicked, suddenly overcome with a piercing headache. “No, I...” He squinted in momentary pain, eyes darting side to side as strangely familiar, gruesome images of hellfire, blood and limbs flashed through his head. His hands were sparking the hair he loved messing with much more than your average static shock now. “Maybe...maybe you’re right... I have heard of humans being here...from that Ghost-boy.” He mumbled, dropping his hands to his lap, “...not that it matters any more.” He gestured to his clearly-dead appearance, almost shamefully.

“A-as for why Master Kaleb has me around, um, it has to do with my ability...I think.” He pointed at the two screws in his neck, “When I feel like I’m in danger, I’ll pass out and they’ll screw in, electrocuting everything around me...s-so don’t think to try anything!” He yelped, though when all was said and done being around this lady was probably the least danger he’d felt in a while. Which only made his increased powers more puzzling. “I-I don’t think he’d help me out with the tournament or anything....but apparently, it makes me a good body guard!” He added, proudly.

He glanced at her wound momentarily. Another vision. This time of a crimson haired girl of about the same age giggling out a rather mischievous melody in a candle-lit room. Snapping back to reality, a feeling of responsibility suddenly washed over him. The strange, crimson-haired girl aside, if the other visions he saw earlier were real, and his assumption about the lady in front of him true, she wouldn’t be exempt from that same fate. Though he couldn’t remember who’d done it, the thought of her body being dismantled like his...for some reason, he couldn’t stand for it. “...From what I heard, humans can only enter hell if they’ve a deal with Satan himself. But that’s all I know.” He paused, “...I-If you want me to take you to that ghost-boy, I can.” He said, standing up cautiously and moving, ever slowly, towards a broken window. “He’s never that far away, actually.”