#-closed

[behemxth-blog]

@sentientbook

Curious rumours left the lips of a few shopkeepers and salesman. Blacksmiths told tales of a mage who roamed. A stranger capable of magic unparalleled. Tales had been told of the ultima spell illuminating the night from deep within the forests. An emerald green had protruded from the trees of the woods, shining and decimating those too close. 

Of course, Kalne could only believe the hearsay of strangers so much. The ultima spell had not been seen for centuries, neither a black mage. Both were but legends poised off of the tongues of the suspicious elderly and naive young and although Kalne was open to the wonder of such an extravagant world, even he had his doubts regarding such wizardry.

The knight had been wrestling a beast most foul when the magic had illuminated it’s body from behind. He’d watched with a tentative gaze as the very rumours he’d doubted became real before his very eyes. Failing to act on his surprise, the warrior simply stood rigid as he watched the fray unfold. The beast howled, at what - he still couldn’t decipher. 

Amidst the shadows of the trees was a phantom. A tale spread like wildfire through the small villages and towns of the world; now personified before his very eyes. 

He sheaths his sword. No longer would he need the blade, not with a magic-user at this side. 

“Impressive.”

[behemxth-blog]

@trashkingizunia

The tide had been rough, the storm only extenuating it's strength against the pine of his boat. It'd been enough to twist his stomach though luckily not enough to evacuate it's contents. 

The warrior, adorned with the clothes of a hunter; would explore the island in search of a beast. A griffon; one with a legendary rumour, renowned enough to have reached his ears. The 'behemoth' undoubtedly looked his namesake, as he hopped off of his boat and began to traverse the land. His hand grasped a short-sword tightly and another slightly, longer sword hung loosely from a strap across his back. On his feet were boots made of a Coeurl's skin and Garula fur; his clothing took much of the same material. A simple loin cloth and shorts, his top nothing but a breastplate and shoulder pads. The war paints across his body and braids hanging loose aside his ears only further proved his origin as a hunter. Blonde as the sun and scarred with a purple birthmark to taint almost half of his face, it'd be an obvious answer to anybody as to why he was known as the behemoth. 

His eyes are firm and poised ahead of him as he takes slow, near-silent footsteps toward the depths of the island's embrace. The island of Angelgard was a decidedly lonely place, enough so that not even the rattling of thunder could break it's silence. A bleakness corrupted any and all discernible features. Standing where he stood ; the island no longer looked in tune with the rest of Eos. As if drawn into another world, Kalne could feel the oppressive lure of the land's atmosphere over him like the jaws of a snake. Despite his boat being just south of his feet; an escape suddenly felt impossible. The draw of the centre of the isle was irresistible, beckoning him closer like a lamb to slaughter.

Kalne follows the draw of the ornamental blades almost-blindly. He keeps his wits about him and yet his face feels numb, his muscles are rigid with the undeniable pull of curiosity. No longer are his thoughts or footsteps tracking a griffon, but instead - a mystery.

He edges closer, eyes now blind to the darkness before him ; his mouth slowly begins to drop agape as he spies a figure’s shadow dancing against the light of the crackle of sparks in the sky. He approaches slowly, legs aching and body now rigid with a strange, unexplained fear. Whatever was before him - was a ghost.

[behemxth-blog]

@vexenchillingworth​

“A heartless...”

he mumbles, his voice deep but his musing naive. 

The man is a boy in regards to his knowledge of the other worlds; of their customs and their daemons. There are no behemoths across the sky - nor are there swordsmen like he, but rather keyblades, nightmares and soulless creatures with nought to fill their chests? It sounds alien to him. Alien and...terrifying. But still, the knight does not falter. He remains steadfast, his expression unchanged. 

“This is...” he pauses for a short breath “strange. Terrible.” 

His eyes shift from his informant to the blackened sky above them; the system with which they resided was more than forests and mountains. The blue of a day’s sky was nothing but decoration in comparison to the underbelly of the world. Behind ever man, every beast - was a story. The heartless were just yet another to unravel before him. 

He itches at the stinging on his right arm; shuffling back and forth the armor atop his wounded, mutilated flesh. 

“I was ignorant. Unaware of heartless. Teach me.” He shoots words as if they were bullets, unassuming of how blunt he sounds in doing so.