Post by Gahrok on Dec 2, 2007 22:32:23 GMT -4
Arrancar
Name: Asmodeus
Gender: Male
Age: 209
Ranking: Espada
Number: Uno
Base Type: Vasto Lorde
Physical Description:
Personality:
The man on the floor gasped for breath, clutching feebly at the dirt as if it could somehow bring him the strength to survive. It didn’t. Tilting his head upwards and looking down at an angle Asmodeus grinned a wicked serpents grin and flicked his hair too the side of his face vainly. “Does the dying man have no words left to give?” he hissed.
The shinigami coughed, a horrendous sound, sending blood flying down his already red stained robe. “Yes… I have a question for you… you demon! You murderer. What makes you think your better then us… what gives you the right to take life? And what in hell… could you ever hope to gain?”.
The Espada just shook his head and chuckled, “Such silly things to ask… but I shall humor your weak little mind. I kill because I can, I am better then you because I kill. You see my friend,” he grinned down upon the dying man, “One day, someone will come… and stand over me as I die, as I stand over you. But when that day comes, they wont forget myname. Oh no… they’ll remember this sword, this face, this mind. The infamous Asmodeus, the murderer, the killer, the immortal!”
The Espada slowly kneeled down as the shinigami spluttered and tried weakly to regain his breath. ”And on the way to my death…” he put his hand on the shinigami’s shoulder and looked into his eyes with the most wicked of glares, ”I get to be the most powerful, the most obscene, the most treacherous and the deadliest devil you could everimagine. It’s to be bad you have no time to change yourself my friend.” Asmodeus closed his eyes, drew his sword and ran the shinigami through all in one breath. He yanked his blade out from the man viciously with one jerk and began to wipe the blood of on the hem of his robe. It’s to bad they never asked the questions before he had to kill them, they might’ve had time to learn a thing or two.
---------
Asmodeus is a firm disbeliever in objective morality and is quite amused by values such as righteousness and piety. To him they are the values of fools, pathetic dogs who have no minds of their own… no goals of their own. He is a sly and treacherous individual who wouldn’t hesitate to lie or act his way out of any situation, he feels no shame, guilt or remorse. His only goal is to obtain enough power and infamy to live on forever in the minds of others. When not acting or sucking up he is viciously sarcastic and vindictive, and rather an uncomfortable person to be around. He enjoys being feared and outplaying or outwitting others, and of course emasculating or defeating them in battle. Another thing he enjoys is pointing out the hypocrisy of others, it gives him a cruel vindictive pleasure. He loves to toy with those weaker then himself, mentally or physically, he loves to dominate them and express his own prowess through his domination. To him it is an art-form, a game… this ongoing battle of his to become more powerful more strong and more feared. But then to him, it’s all a game. As long as his existence isn’t threatened Asmodeus has little inhibition about doing anything and he developed a greedy and lustful nature from his time as an aristocrat and politician during his human years. Often-times he spends an indulgent night on earth alone, hitting up the streets, feeling his power… killing, stealing and running rampant on the pleasure cruise that is his life.
When it comes to casual relationships with other people… well it rarely comes to that. Most people know well enough to stay away from Asmodeus if he doesn’t want anything from them, he hates inane chatter and feels it is an offense punishable by a painful death. Of course, more pleasurable endeavors are something the espada has never been adverse too… even if they aren’t all about strengthening himself and his reputation. But never will he allow himself to appear as low as the common person in his actions.
History:
Asmodeus was born into a rich family. His father was a wealthy politician, his mother however died during childbirth. Neither Asmodeus nor his father ever showed any remorse or sorrow at her death, in-fact his father took to the idea swimmingly… using his powerful position to horde all things, women included. Young Asmodeus grew up a spoilt brat, having everything he wanted, when he wanted it and en masse. He was a snide and snotty little boy and oftentimes those who met him would comment distastefully to his father on the boys nature. His father would simply laugh, for he found the violent and unsavoury attitude to be not only amusing but also gutsy, and found his weaselling to be fitting of a politician’s son. Asmodeus was educated by the finest tutors of the day, and while he acted rather rudely towards his hired teachers he was also a brilliant student and learned amazingly fast when he chose too.
Asmodeus never fully grew out of his snobby attitude, but instead his childish outbursts blossomed into sarcasm and cynicism, and eventually nihilism and of course… a thirst for power. And where else to look but politics for that power? His father having passed away at the age of 35 from pneumonia, Asmodeus followed in the dead mans footsteps and became a man of the courts. He slithered his way to the top, grinning madly and continuously reaping the rewards of such a aristocratic life style. Asmodeus was a devilish politician, his only goal was fame and power. For Asmodeus had always loved history, it taught him the most valuable lesson he had ever learned. Immortality is only given to those who inspire mass fear, and obtain the greatest power. The proof, he had found, was all there in the tutors textbooks… the greatest conquerors were all there, flaunting their might for eternity in the pages of history. That was what he knew he had to become. Never did Asmodeus learn or believe in the concepts of love or friendship. Life to him was and always will be a game.
Eventually at the age of 25 he took a wife. Not out of love, but it helped him do well as a politician and it gave him someone to deal with all of his mess. Plus he just felt the need to have obtained a woman of his own. It was a conquest in its own right, if you will. However he found his wife sleeping with another man while he was out at work one day. The though hardly bothered him on an emotional level at all. However, for someone to have thusly stolen and used his property… well… that could not be allowed. Asmodeus killed them both with a blunderbuss, he did it too, with precision and callous indifference. To him it was a fair penance and that was that. However he soon learned that the law felt a little differently. He was taken to jail and eventually hung for his actions.
Attached to the world and attached to his possessions Asmodeus had no hope of moving on. He did not understand what was happening to him but he was eventually devoured and consumed by his loathing for the world and what it had done to him, what he had been forced to leave behind. Power was his only goal, his only drive, as a hollow. Greed was his only emotion. Slyly avoiding those more powerful then him and preying on those weaker he slowly grew in strength. Years it took him, many many years, nearly two centuries in-fact… but he climbed the ladder all the same. As Espada, little of how he lived his life changed, and little of his views. What he had gained however was a great deal of enjoyment for crushing those weaker then them, especially revelling in their pain. He continues to strive for power and for fame, and spends his idle moments slyly conversing and politicizing with those around him. Asmodeus enjoys maneuvering himself sociologically just as much as he enjoys the thrill of battle.
Abilities (pre resurrecction ): Plague Breath:Before releasing Asmodeus only has one ability. He can send a brown cloud or stream of smog from his mouth that is highly corrosive in nature, it can eat away nearly anything if enough quantity of the gas is produced. Unfortunately producing the gas burns his lungs and using too much at once is quite dangerous and risky. Also the attack is only for a very short range and doesn’t move that fast. However from close range if it hits an opponent it can eat away at their clothes and creates cuts and sores all over the skin, and the wounds fester near immediately. If the breathe is further breathed on the wounds its extremely painful as the breath inflames and infects the wounds.
Additional Info:
General:
Appearance:
Asmodeus keeps the dagger hidden in the folds of his robes and does not carry the sheath.
Resurrecctión
Armor/ Appearance:Amsodeus’s arms become coated with a skeletal layer of white (the standard transformation material). The rest of his body remains unchanged.
Abilities:
Fingers Of Decay:Whatever comes into contact with Asmodeus’s transformed arms will slowly lose its life force/ spirity energy and decay (if it is an inanimate object or plant). For example if he were to touch his hand against a wall the wood would slowly turn black, and crumble to ash and then to nothingness. The process is slow but once touched there is no reserving it. However, this decay will not spread throughout an object unless continual contact is made. If a person is touched by his hands or arms, the point of contact will contract boils. If the contact is more then a few seconds the person will start to get burns and if it is held for over 7 seconds their skin will start to peel. The boils remain after the initial contact and irritation will continue until they are cured however the boils will not progress past that stage unless further contact is made. Slight burns are made on initial contact as well but while they are painful they are not permanent and do not last long after the initial sting.
Locust Swarm:Asmodeus can disintegrate his arms to make thousands of little white flies. These flies carry inside of them his very own blood and they can cling onto the opponent and then explode, releasing his blood which is now a disease carrying agent. Upon contact with the skin, the blood causes boils and rashes as well as cuts and sores. En masse they are extremely painful and distracting, and if more of the blood gets inside these open wounds the pain is immense. These flies can also explode without being attached to the opponent and the blood they carry squirts about 2 cm’s in every direction. The weakness of this attack however, is that because its his own blood it can make Asmodeus very weak to use this attack in large quantities.
Claws Of The Devil:[/b]In his transformation, the skeletal armor that encases Asmodeus’s hands gives him claws. His blood can flow to the end of these claws and if he cuts somebody with them, his disease and poison is infected directly into them via the bloodstream. A shallow wound will give the opponent a fiery pain within the wound and a rash that slowly surrounds it. The pain tends to linger. A deep wound will give the opponent the sweats, and if the fight goes long enough it may make them light-headed and slow to react. They will also be subject to intense flashes of pain that are nearly blinding.
Sonido
Hierro
Garganta
Cero
Bala
Other Characters: Dante, Gahrok
Roleplay Sample:
Dante sat perched in his favorite post, his hands resting casually on the back of his head and his feet propped up on the back of a bench, his rear precariously inhabiting the edge of a large water fountain. It always gave him a smirk to see people sit down on the bench only to get up in shock at the sight of a pair of feet beside their head. Idiots, so unaware. But it wouldn’t have given him a grin today… it would’ve taken quite a bit more then that in-fact. Either way no-one was likely to be sitting down on that particular bench anytime soon because it was currently mid-day and afternoon classes were in session. Dante sighed, he should really be there with them… but he just didn’t have the heart today. He couldn’t see the point anymore.
Dante picked up his guitar from its resting place in the dirt, in some cases people would comment on times corrosion of their instruments luster… in his case it pretty much looked just as shabby as the day he had cobbled it together out of scraps. A grin failed to be held back by his melancholic reverie as he fondled the coarse wood of its neck. Putting his baby upon his knee with tender care Dante closed his eyes and let his fingers dance across the fretboard, his soul flying off into the crisp afternoon air along with the slightly sour and flat notes of his bluesy tune. His mind escaped the drudgery of reality as the music consumed him. Time went out the window as he played, it could have been minutes or hours. Dante didn’t know, he didn’t care… this was his time, his only time.
It ended. It had a habit of doing that, just when he wasn’t ready… but once it ended you could never get it back. He plucked the last string with intensity and fervor, the low e rumbling out into the quite courtyard. Dante opened his eyes, tears nearly rolling down his eyes, biting his lip as it all came rushing back. His music had always been an extension of himself and while it was a temporary escape, it was also an amplifier of whatever he happened to be feeling. Dante’s soulful eyes probed the sky, as if searching for some guidance. His parents would’ve known what to say, but their guidance was always simply to work harder… to yell at him, to scream at him, to tell him he was a slack-ass… a failure… a nobody, a no-one. A loser.
Why… why was it always a competition? Why did he always have to be matched up, suited up and sent off to the trenches. He thought he had been done with it all when he had finished high-school. And then they told him there was an academy here, then they carted him off to be institutionalized once more. What a surprise, he thought bitterly, I failed at it again. Dante made a frustrated noise somewhere between a growl and a scream, perhaps it could have been considered a rather undignified gurgle. Either way he looked even more frustrated at the fact that such an un-masculine noise had just come out of his mouth, Grimacing he held his guitar up high as if to throw it, his blue eyes sparkling with anger. Sighing he lay it slowly back onto the ground and hung his head in defeat. Why stay here anymore? Dante just wanted to leave it all behind, the pain, the failure. Five long years and what had he accomplished? Dead end and after dead end. That was his fucking life, his goddamn cyclic and endless life. Sometimes he wished he didn’t have eternity to spend repeating his same mistakes, it was getting awfully old.
He cried out, punching the air in a vain attempt at grasping onto some straw of his own strength. Almost somewhat vindicated by the forceful blow Dante threw his left hook into the air as well. It seemed, however, that the combined momentum was a little much for his precarious position and with a great splash and a heap of flailing limbs Dante fell over backwards into the fountain. Spluttering he arose and in an instant flung his head to the left and right to see if anyone was watching, embarrassment would be the ultimate insult to his already injured pride. The coast looked clear. He flung himself over the side with a long sigh that turned into a violent bout of hiccups as his breath caught up to him. Soaking wet the morose Dante lay sprawled out across the dirty party. Why the fuck…. did these things always happen to him? Was there some sort of curse that branded him as the most awkward person in the whole of this moronic.. pathetic… goddamn… Dante didn’t find the last adjective to describe the academy, he was interrupted by a prickle of pain across his backside. He jumped to his feet in the immediate realization of what he’d done.
Underneath him, in the spot where he had just been lying was his prized guitar, her neck quite broken. Biting his lip, his nose curled and his eyes bulged as he though of about a thousand profane words to scream. Dante curled his hands into fists as he pointed accusingly at the ground, then the water fountain and eventually at the sky. His breath was expulsed all at once as he spoke and as a result his words were choppy “This… is… just….goddamn… GREAT” he screamed the last word, its echoes chiming throughout the empty courtyard no doubt allotting a few chuckles from nearby classrooms.
General Info
Name: Asmodeus
Gender: Male
Age: 209
Ranking: Espada
Number: Uno
Base Type: Vasto Lorde
Physical Description:
Personality:
The man on the floor gasped for breath, clutching feebly at the dirt as if it could somehow bring him the strength to survive. It didn’t. Tilting his head upwards and looking down at an angle Asmodeus grinned a wicked serpents grin and flicked his hair too the side of his face vainly. “Does the dying man have no words left to give?” he hissed.
The shinigami coughed, a horrendous sound, sending blood flying down his already red stained robe. “Yes… I have a question for you… you demon! You murderer. What makes you think your better then us… what gives you the right to take life? And what in hell… could you ever hope to gain?”.
The Espada just shook his head and chuckled, “Such silly things to ask… but I shall humor your weak little mind. I kill because I can, I am better then you because I kill. You see my friend,” he grinned down upon the dying man, “One day, someone will come… and stand over me as I die, as I stand over you. But when that day comes, they wont forget myname. Oh no… they’ll remember this sword, this face, this mind. The infamous Asmodeus, the murderer, the killer, the immortal!”
The Espada slowly kneeled down as the shinigami spluttered and tried weakly to regain his breath. ”And on the way to my death…” he put his hand on the shinigami’s shoulder and looked into his eyes with the most wicked of glares, ”I get to be the most powerful, the most obscene, the most treacherous and the deadliest devil you could everimagine. It’s to be bad you have no time to change yourself my friend.” Asmodeus closed his eyes, drew his sword and ran the shinigami through all in one breath. He yanked his blade out from the man viciously with one jerk and began to wipe the blood of on the hem of his robe. It’s to bad they never asked the questions before he had to kill them, they might’ve had time to learn a thing or two.
---------
Asmodeus is a firm disbeliever in objective morality and is quite amused by values such as righteousness and piety. To him they are the values of fools, pathetic dogs who have no minds of their own… no goals of their own. He is a sly and treacherous individual who wouldn’t hesitate to lie or act his way out of any situation, he feels no shame, guilt or remorse. His only goal is to obtain enough power and infamy to live on forever in the minds of others. When not acting or sucking up he is viciously sarcastic and vindictive, and rather an uncomfortable person to be around. He enjoys being feared and outplaying or outwitting others, and of course emasculating or defeating them in battle. Another thing he enjoys is pointing out the hypocrisy of others, it gives him a cruel vindictive pleasure. He loves to toy with those weaker then himself, mentally or physically, he loves to dominate them and express his own prowess through his domination. To him it is an art-form, a game… this ongoing battle of his to become more powerful more strong and more feared. But then to him, it’s all a game. As long as his existence isn’t threatened Asmodeus has little inhibition about doing anything and he developed a greedy and lustful nature from his time as an aristocrat and politician during his human years. Often-times he spends an indulgent night on earth alone, hitting up the streets, feeling his power… killing, stealing and running rampant on the pleasure cruise that is his life.
When it comes to casual relationships with other people… well it rarely comes to that. Most people know well enough to stay away from Asmodeus if he doesn’t want anything from them, he hates inane chatter and feels it is an offense punishable by a painful death. Of course, more pleasurable endeavors are something the espada has never been adverse too… even if they aren’t all about strengthening himself and his reputation. But never will he allow himself to appear as low as the common person in his actions.
History:
Asmodeus was born into a rich family. His father was a wealthy politician, his mother however died during childbirth. Neither Asmodeus nor his father ever showed any remorse or sorrow at her death, in-fact his father took to the idea swimmingly… using his powerful position to horde all things, women included. Young Asmodeus grew up a spoilt brat, having everything he wanted, when he wanted it and en masse. He was a snide and snotty little boy and oftentimes those who met him would comment distastefully to his father on the boys nature. His father would simply laugh, for he found the violent and unsavoury attitude to be not only amusing but also gutsy, and found his weaselling to be fitting of a politician’s son. Asmodeus was educated by the finest tutors of the day, and while he acted rather rudely towards his hired teachers he was also a brilliant student and learned amazingly fast when he chose too.
Asmodeus never fully grew out of his snobby attitude, but instead his childish outbursts blossomed into sarcasm and cynicism, and eventually nihilism and of course… a thirst for power. And where else to look but politics for that power? His father having passed away at the age of 35 from pneumonia, Asmodeus followed in the dead mans footsteps and became a man of the courts. He slithered his way to the top, grinning madly and continuously reaping the rewards of such a aristocratic life style. Asmodeus was a devilish politician, his only goal was fame and power. For Asmodeus had always loved history, it taught him the most valuable lesson he had ever learned. Immortality is only given to those who inspire mass fear, and obtain the greatest power. The proof, he had found, was all there in the tutors textbooks… the greatest conquerors were all there, flaunting their might for eternity in the pages of history. That was what he knew he had to become. Never did Asmodeus learn or believe in the concepts of love or friendship. Life to him was and always will be a game.
Eventually at the age of 25 he took a wife. Not out of love, but it helped him do well as a politician and it gave him someone to deal with all of his mess. Plus he just felt the need to have obtained a woman of his own. It was a conquest in its own right, if you will. However he found his wife sleeping with another man while he was out at work one day. The though hardly bothered him on an emotional level at all. However, for someone to have thusly stolen and used his property… well… that could not be allowed. Asmodeus killed them both with a blunderbuss, he did it too, with precision and callous indifference. To him it was a fair penance and that was that. However he soon learned that the law felt a little differently. He was taken to jail and eventually hung for his actions.
Attached to the world and attached to his possessions Asmodeus had no hope of moving on. He did not understand what was happening to him but he was eventually devoured and consumed by his loathing for the world and what it had done to him, what he had been forced to leave behind. Power was his only goal, his only drive, as a hollow. Greed was his only emotion. Slyly avoiding those more powerful then him and preying on those weaker he slowly grew in strength. Years it took him, many many years, nearly two centuries in-fact… but he climbed the ladder all the same. As Espada, little of how he lived his life changed, and little of his views. What he had gained however was a great deal of enjoyment for crushing those weaker then them, especially revelling in their pain. He continues to strive for power and for fame, and spends his idle moments slyly conversing and politicizing with those around him. Asmodeus enjoys maneuvering himself sociologically just as much as he enjoys the thrill of battle.
Abilities (pre resurrecction ): Plague Breath:Before releasing Asmodeus only has one ability. He can send a brown cloud or stream of smog from his mouth that is highly corrosive in nature, it can eat away nearly anything if enough quantity of the gas is produced. Unfortunately producing the gas burns his lungs and using too much at once is quite dangerous and risky. Also the attack is only for a very short range and doesn’t move that fast. However from close range if it hits an opponent it can eat away at their clothes and creates cuts and sores all over the skin, and the wounds fester near immediately. If the breathe is further breathed on the wounds its extremely painful as the breath inflames and infects the wounds.
Additional Info:
Zanpakuto
General:
Appearance:
Asmodeus keeps the dagger hidden in the folds of his robes and does not carry the sheath.
Resurrecctión
Armor/ Appearance:Amsodeus’s arms become coated with a skeletal layer of white (the standard transformation material). The rest of his body remains unchanged.
Abilities:
Fingers Of Decay:Whatever comes into contact with Asmodeus’s transformed arms will slowly lose its life force/ spirity energy and decay (if it is an inanimate object or plant). For example if he were to touch his hand against a wall the wood would slowly turn black, and crumble to ash and then to nothingness. The process is slow but once touched there is no reserving it. However, this decay will not spread throughout an object unless continual contact is made. If a person is touched by his hands or arms, the point of contact will contract boils. If the contact is more then a few seconds the person will start to get burns and if it is held for over 7 seconds their skin will start to peel. The boils remain after the initial contact and irritation will continue until they are cured however the boils will not progress past that stage unless further contact is made. Slight burns are made on initial contact as well but while they are painful they are not permanent and do not last long after the initial sting.
Locust Swarm:Asmodeus can disintegrate his arms to make thousands of little white flies. These flies carry inside of them his very own blood and they can cling onto the opponent and then explode, releasing his blood which is now a disease carrying agent. Upon contact with the skin, the blood causes boils and rashes as well as cuts and sores. En masse they are extremely painful and distracting, and if more of the blood gets inside these open wounds the pain is immense. These flies can also explode without being attached to the opponent and the blood they carry squirts about 2 cm’s in every direction. The weakness of this attack however, is that because its his own blood it can make Asmodeus very weak to use this attack in large quantities.
Claws Of The Devil:[/b]In his transformation, the skeletal armor that encases Asmodeus’s hands gives him claws. His blood can flow to the end of these claws and if he cuts somebody with them, his disease and poison is infected directly into them via the bloodstream. A shallow wound will give the opponent a fiery pain within the wound and a rash that slowly surrounds it. The pain tends to linger. A deep wound will give the opponent the sweats, and if the fight goes long enough it may make them light-headed and slow to react. They will also be subject to intense flashes of pain that are nearly blinding.
Hollow Techniques
Sonido
Hierro
Garganta
Cero
Bala
Additional
Other Characters: Dante, Gahrok
Roleplay Sample:
Dante sat perched in his favorite post, his hands resting casually on the back of his head and his feet propped up on the back of a bench, his rear precariously inhabiting the edge of a large water fountain. It always gave him a smirk to see people sit down on the bench only to get up in shock at the sight of a pair of feet beside their head. Idiots, so unaware. But it wouldn’t have given him a grin today… it would’ve taken quite a bit more then that in-fact. Either way no-one was likely to be sitting down on that particular bench anytime soon because it was currently mid-day and afternoon classes were in session. Dante sighed, he should really be there with them… but he just didn’t have the heart today. He couldn’t see the point anymore.
Dante picked up his guitar from its resting place in the dirt, in some cases people would comment on times corrosion of their instruments luster… in his case it pretty much looked just as shabby as the day he had cobbled it together out of scraps. A grin failed to be held back by his melancholic reverie as he fondled the coarse wood of its neck. Putting his baby upon his knee with tender care Dante closed his eyes and let his fingers dance across the fretboard, his soul flying off into the crisp afternoon air along with the slightly sour and flat notes of his bluesy tune. His mind escaped the drudgery of reality as the music consumed him. Time went out the window as he played, it could have been minutes or hours. Dante didn’t know, he didn’t care… this was his time, his only time.
It ended. It had a habit of doing that, just when he wasn’t ready… but once it ended you could never get it back. He plucked the last string with intensity and fervor, the low e rumbling out into the quite courtyard. Dante opened his eyes, tears nearly rolling down his eyes, biting his lip as it all came rushing back. His music had always been an extension of himself and while it was a temporary escape, it was also an amplifier of whatever he happened to be feeling. Dante’s soulful eyes probed the sky, as if searching for some guidance. His parents would’ve known what to say, but their guidance was always simply to work harder… to yell at him, to scream at him, to tell him he was a slack-ass… a failure… a nobody, a no-one. A loser.
Why… why was it always a competition? Why did he always have to be matched up, suited up and sent off to the trenches. He thought he had been done with it all when he had finished high-school. And then they told him there was an academy here, then they carted him off to be institutionalized once more. What a surprise, he thought bitterly, I failed at it again. Dante made a frustrated noise somewhere between a growl and a scream, perhaps it could have been considered a rather undignified gurgle. Either way he looked even more frustrated at the fact that such an un-masculine noise had just come out of his mouth, Grimacing he held his guitar up high as if to throw it, his blue eyes sparkling with anger. Sighing he lay it slowly back onto the ground and hung his head in defeat. Why stay here anymore? Dante just wanted to leave it all behind, the pain, the failure. Five long years and what had he accomplished? Dead end and after dead end. That was his fucking life, his goddamn cyclic and endless life. Sometimes he wished he didn’t have eternity to spend repeating his same mistakes, it was getting awfully old.
He cried out, punching the air in a vain attempt at grasping onto some straw of his own strength. Almost somewhat vindicated by the forceful blow Dante threw his left hook into the air as well. It seemed, however, that the combined momentum was a little much for his precarious position and with a great splash and a heap of flailing limbs Dante fell over backwards into the fountain. Spluttering he arose and in an instant flung his head to the left and right to see if anyone was watching, embarrassment would be the ultimate insult to his already injured pride. The coast looked clear. He flung himself over the side with a long sigh that turned into a violent bout of hiccups as his breath caught up to him. Soaking wet the morose Dante lay sprawled out across the dirty party. Why the fuck…. did these things always happen to him? Was there some sort of curse that branded him as the most awkward person in the whole of this moronic.. pathetic… goddamn… Dante didn’t find the last adjective to describe the academy, he was interrupted by a prickle of pain across his backside. He jumped to his feet in the immediate realization of what he’d done.
Underneath him, in the spot where he had just been lying was his prized guitar, her neck quite broken. Biting his lip, his nose curled and his eyes bulged as he though of about a thousand profane words to scream. Dante curled his hands into fists as he pointed accusingly at the ground, then the water fountain and eventually at the sky. His breath was expulsed all at once as he spoke and as a result his words were choppy “This… is… just….goddamn… GREAT” he screamed the last word, its echoes chiming throughout the empty courtyard no doubt allotting a few chuckles from nearby classrooms.
