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Oh yeah. Figured I might as well share this TL'd bit that a certain gentleman did.
"Die... Perish... Just who gave you permission to breathe?" In the beginning, he belonged to the faction that decreed themselves as 'Good'. Yet, even among them, he was cut from a different cloth entirely.
His killing instinct was different. His indignation was different. His hatred was different. The curse that he shouldered, too, was of a different magnitude to theirs.
It was true that those on the side of 'Good' were a wild and destructive bunch, but he simply towered above them beyond all measure of scale. It was as if there was no remorse in him at all, only a burning resentment. His battle raged endlessly, hatred his blade.
Above him stood countless foes, and countless friends. But his crusade was one performed alone, one performed in a rain of blood.
Ridiculous... Absurd... A fool of a madman!
In the beginning, what I felt for the man was nothing but dumbfounded confusion. Those feelings morphed into contempt, but in seconds those feelings transformed into abject fear and awe. "Bring me the wicked! Bring me the dregs of society! Drag them out, I will suffer none of them to live!".
"You say I'm not 'Good'?! Then I'll accept it, witness me as the Evil that feasts upon Evil!"
He felt no shame. He felt no regret. This man was a heretic, Remorseless incarnate.
"The last man standing in a world stained of blood, hm? Are you perhaps the manifestation of martial strength, here to strike me down? If I'm honest, it brings me nothing but joy that a man as magnificent as you was born beneath my Law. Now please. Run me through, and destroy me. It's your turn now."
"Die... Perish... Just who gave you permission to breathe?" In the beginning, he belonged to the faction that decreed themselves as 'Good'. Yet, even among them, he was cut from a different cloth entirely.
His killing instinct was different. His indignation was different. His hatred was different. The curse that he shouldered, too, was of a different magnitude to theirs.
It was true that those on the side of 'Good' were a wild and destructive bunch, but he simply towered above them beyond all measure of scale. It was as if there was no remorse in him at all, only a burning resentment. His battle raged endlessly, hatred his blade.
Above him stood countless foes, and countless friends. But his crusade was one performed alone, one performed in a rain of blood.
Ridiculous... Absurd... A fool of a madman!
In the beginning, what I felt for the man was nothing but dumbfounded confusion. Those feelings morphed into contempt, but in seconds those feelings transformed into abject fear and awe. "Bring me the wicked! Bring me the dregs of society! Drag them out, I will suffer none of them to live!".
"You say I'm not 'Good'?! Then I'll accept it, witness me as the Evil that feasts upon Evil!"
He felt no shame. He felt no regret. This man was a heretic, Remorseless incarnate.
"The last man standing in a world stained of blood, hm? Are you perhaps the manifestation of martial strength, here to strike me down? If I'm honest, it brings me nothing but joy that a man as magnificent as you was born beneath my Law. Now please. Run me through, and destroy me. It's your turn now."