Mosaic City, located along China's coast, is quite large city sometimes called the Crossroads Between Nations due to its diverse population. While it was once a large tourist spot, the city was placed under a blockade as the military appeared claiming there was a radiation leak. The true hazard, however, is much more sinister.
Post by Soren Jensen on Feb 23, 2014 11:08:34 GMT -5
Humanity was an accursed race. Dirty, corrupt, and evil, they constantly burrowed further into sin without any concern for themselves or others. Even when one excluded the concepts of heaven and hell- rewards and punishment- it was pathetic to think that Shadows were ultimately just the spawn of man. Soren had absolutely no qualms with dying of old age. He assumed it could happen, but he was not entirely certain. He also accepted that he would likely, one day, die at the hands of humans who had banded together. That thought certainly did not scare him. No, what scared him was the thought of a world entirely at the mercy of human hands. They were dangerous and perverse monsters that would ruin everything that sustained them before finally dying out.
Sipping his tea, the man just relaxed. Thinking about those things would just get him worked up. Instead, he observed his surroundings. They were absolutely delicious, in the sense that every one of the humans around him took themselves a bit too seriously. Convinced that their positive traits were amazing and completely capable of eliminating their negatives, the filth around him wallowed about in false-conceit. It was one thing to be prideful, like Soren was. It was another thing to be completely in lack and still find something to be proud of. It was greatly amusing, really. No doubt, a properly prideful person would have been much more delicious, but he was not one to be picky. Instead, he alternated between the feelings of fools and the aroma of his tea. That was perfectly fine, he decided.
Post by Soren Jensen on Mar 2, 2014 12:47:44 GMT -5
Humans were conceited existences that, in most cases, somehow concluded their logic with the thought that they were superior to their peers, on top of the world, and somehow in control of fate. The world did not work that way. Certainly, there were those that managed to amass a certain level of strength or riches through their efforts, but these were events that, ultimately, were a result of hard work and good fortune. Cutting fortune out of the picture and trying to act like the results were entirely of their own creation was a fault in many “successful” human beings. A certain dead man that Soren was very familiar with suffered from that same fault before being liberated from the shackles of the mortal coil.
Sipping tea through a straw, from one of those thick, papery cups you could get from just about any fast food establishment, the Shadow took a stroll through the streets of Mosaic. Humans were disgusting. He could taste so much. Anger, lust, envy. Greed, laziness. But, the best of these? The most delicious and disgusting of it all? Pride. Those prideful humans that held themselves high for some reason or another were the ones he enjoyed the most. He wanted to see them fall, see them collapse under the weight of their own conceit. Which was better, though? Their eventual falls? Or the tea he was slurping through the straw?
That was the real conundrum for the Shadow. A clash of tastes.
Post by Soren Jensen on Mar 9, 2014 10:34:50 GMT -5
It was a wonderful day to walk around the city. Even if the city itself was disgusting and perverse. He, honestly, found it much better to walk around in the ruins, but the ruins seldom had anything worthwhile in terms of snacks. He also didn't quite support the act of cannibalism. Soren was a man, or rather a Shadow, of standards. If he were to eat, he would eat what he was supposed to eat. If it were not available, he would simply do without. He had done so for a time. He could do so again. However, thinking back to the fight in the hospital, he knew that he didn't have the luxury of being picky. It'd irk him to go against his standards, but, considering the state of things, he very well may have had to.
And then that tell-tale flavor hit his figurative tongue. Some little rabbit thought itself to be a lion. Oh, this would be interesting.
Post by Soren Jensen on Mar 16, 2014 0:29:19 GMT -5
Soren sat in the middle of a bookstore. A lot of bookworms seemed to think themselves as being the smartest and most important little worms in the bunch. Especially some of those comic fanatics. They were filled with so much conceit that it was nearly tangible. It was ironic, given that they quickly crumbled the moment they met with physical opposition. Sitting back and drinking some tea, the man looked to the ceiling. If only there was another way to regain that strength of his- some way that did not include feeding off of these humans. He'd at least feel better about the strength he had if it didn't require being around these disgusting animals.
Post by Soren Jensen on Mar 23, 2014 10:47:09 GMT -5
Soren was, frankly, still a bit off-put by the fact that he had to feed off of humans to keep himself stable and strong. It was insulting, degrading, and thoroughly capable of filling himself with self-loathing. It was similar to a teenage girl's fascination with sweets after a break up. It felt good. Great, even. However, it left a hollow feeling after its wake. Though, for Soren, that feeling persisted through the whole act, even if it was delicious to drink up and gobble down some fat kid's fabricated ego because he won in a fighting game, or some similar nonsense. Humans had such low standards. Even if they were spawned from that very same pool of filth, Shadows were just altogether better. Some would have called it close-mindedness or racism, but Shadows were honest beings compared to humans.
Post by Soren Jensen on Mar 30, 2014 10:45:04 GMT -5
Soren sipped his tea from the cup. It was a plastic cup, and it was iced tea from a dispenser. Neither was an exceptional example of their respective kinds. And, as the man sat and minded his own business- which was eating, mind you, but it didn't matter to the humans around, since they wouldn't have noticed or felt it- similar examples of the human race bickered and argued. Two tried to wrest for control over a science club work group. Both flaunted weak arguments, and their heads swelled without pause. One said one thing, mentally oozing with animosity. The other? Followed suit. Humans really were such disgusting and unpleasant blemishes.
Post by Soren Jensen on Apr 6, 2014 10:32:38 GMT -5
Things had not been going to well lately. First was his brother in the hospital. Then the guardian at the castle. Neither time had he managed to save his comrades. Hell, even his own productivity against the teams was questionable. Especially in the later case. The group there had been well-rounded enough that attacking wasn't even an option. And, had he attacked, his abilities would have fallen short due to the healers. It was a total and complete defeat, even if he had escaped with his life. It was both unfortunate and thoroughly unpleasant. Exceedingly bothersome. He needed to become strong again. He needed to remember the strength he had in years past. He needed to eat more. He needed to fight more.
That was why the man had no longer bothered to be picky with his food. Conceited fools thinking themselves to be gods? Preferred, but no longer necessary. He was sitting there in the middle of a food court, drinking tea. Around him, so many emotions fluctuated and pulsed. And he bit off a bit of all of it.
Post by Soren Jensen on Apr 13, 2014 0:04:09 GMT -5
Soren was slowly regaining the power he had lost over his negligent years in despair. The blade that turned the tables, the spear that stole the life energy of its victims- two of his previous abilities were reignited within his being. His resistances towards physically-aligned attacks had also clawed their way back up towards something more reasonable. Soon enough, he would be able to finally wage a proper war on those Users. Perhaps he would manage to transcend the earlier heights he had reached, back in his hay-day? It wasn't something he doubted, nor was it something he counted on. It was a chance. There was a chance that it would occur. It was his duty to try to make it come to fruition, however.
And if he had to consume the emotional energy of the filthy people around him, harboring their own disgusting, sinful secrets, to do so, then so be it.