Post by Dionysus on Jan 22, 2017 17:33:49 GMT -5
He’s not ready for this.
To assume control? Perish the thought, Baldr.
Dionysus, I know he respects you, but-
Patience, my dear Baldr.
Patience? As he makes the biggest mistake of his destiny?
He believes in Greek and Norse Pagan gods, friend. He has faith; why not you?
...You do anything to harm him…
Oh please...this is only the beginning…
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The scene opens to the farmstead. The camera is set on the forge, smoke billowing out of a chimney on top. The sounds of metal ringing on metal permeates the grounds. Inside, a shirtless Dion Necurat is hammering away at an iron spike, while holding the heated metal with a pair of tongs. He set the hammer down, moving the metal to a bucket of water. He dipped the spike in the bucket, steam rising and a hiss cutting through the air. Dion set the spike aside, in a trough filled with spikes. Dion wiped his brow, letting out a sigh. Next thing I put in this place is an air vent, he thought. But at least we have plenty of spikes. So much cheaper to make them ourselves.
The interior of the forge was well-lit, due in part to the flames from the furnace. Dion installed coat hooks by the door to hang up his shirt, as well as a smithing apron and a towel. He turned to grab his shirt, noticing that the towel he usually kept on the hook had gone missing. As he buttoned up his shirt, he kept thinking to the events that took place earlier. Kevin putting Dion in charge of the Brotherhood, Sean challenging that decision...since then, Sean had been quiet, though whenever Dion passed Sean, he always stared, seething.
Dion payed him no mind; his focus was on the match ahead. Teaming up with two brotherhood members who had problems with each other...that would be difficult to overcome. He could persuade them to play nice for this match, since it was vital for Bishop to be able to choose his opponent, rather than be thrown to the wolves. His opponents, meanwhile, were hungry for a shot at the title, that much was obvious. If the Brotherhood members did not pull together, Kevin would be at a disadvantage. That is the last thing he-
While in mid-thought, Dion felt a taut fabric pull against his neck. He was too slow to get a hand underneath the fabric, but when he clutched at it, Dion discovered that it was the towel he usually kept hung up. He gripped tight on as much of the towel as he could. A kick to the back of his knee set him to the ground, kneeling. He heard heavy breathing behind him. “Take the Brotherhood from me, huh? I’ll show you, Crimson Bitch,” spat the voice. Dion recognized it as being Sean. Dion pulled down, but was not in a great position to offset Sean’s stance.
“It should have been MINE!” Sean shouted, pulling harder against the towel. "And now, it will be. Kevin might be wrapped around your little finger...but I see through you, you interloper!" Dion’s grip tightened, then slowly loosened as his vision began to blur…
Soon...Dion’s eyes began to close…
…
…
…
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Ah...my devout servant…
You have done a great service by constructing your shrine…
I will bestow on you…
My conscienceness…
Awaken…
...
Dionysus…
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Dion’s eyes snapped open, a ring of purple around the red iris. Dion’s grip tightened, and with a burst of strength and speed, Dion pulled down on the towel. At the same time, he threw his head backward, connecting the back of his head with Sean’s nose. Sean yelped in pain, falling back through the doorway.
Dion coughed, gulping deep breaths of stale air. He stood up, walking outside. He saw Sean on the ground, clutching at his nose. Blood was spattered on his shirt, either from his nose or from Sean biting his lip. Sean shook his head, wiping the blood from his mouth. “You little-” he started, getting up to try and take Dion down. Dion caught Sean while his arms were wrapped around his waist, and slammed down hard with his hands clutched together. Sean cried out again, letting go and dropping to the ground. Dion backed up, delivering a boot to Sean’s head. Sean lay on the ground, groaning and coughing, while Dion stood above him...cackling in laughter.
“Oh come now, Sean,” Dion taunted. “Did you REALLY believe you could win a fight with me? ME?!” He spread his arms, leaning over the smaller man. “You’re pathetic. Kevin chose me because I can do what you can’t; defend myself, and defend my brothers. You, meanwhile, have been nothing but an annoying thorn in this organization.”
Sean grunted, sitting up. He clutched at his head. “ME? A THORN?! I have been here since DAY FUCKING ONE. YOU are only here to USE us!”
Dion grabbed the top of Sean’s head, tugging at his hair to lean it back. “Oh really? How would Kevin trust you after you willingly went to ruin my reputation?”
Sean slapped Dion’s hand away, slowly getting to his feet. “I...did nothing...to ruin YOUR reputation...how can you even sugge-”
Before Sean could answer, Dion held out a picture in front of him. It was a photo of Serujah. “Do you take me for a fool?” Dion asked with anger. “I know this belongs to you.” He looked down, with a grin. “I see you recognize it too.”
Sean felt awkward. Looking down, he noticed a bulge growing in his jeans. He looked up, eyes wide. Dion’s face turned to rage. “You honestly thought I would forget?” Dion growled, throwing the picture in his face. “You wanted to make a fool out of me while Adrian Archer was at the camp. Well, Sean, you had a few things wrong.” Dion stroked his beard. “First off...my beard is actually real. Yes...a glorious beard...and you,” he said, scratching at Sean’s stubble, “have nothing more than a stubble suitable for a high school neckbeard. So, you used an obviously fake beard to make it look like it was me, at least for the few brief seconds you were on air.”
Dion gripped tightly onto Sean’s shoulder. “Second...I have never worn a kilt in my life,” he said. “They itch and are quite uncomfortable. Not to mention,” he paused, tightening his grip enough for Sean to gasp in pain, “I’m. Not. Scottish.” Dion delivered a knee to Sean’s stomach, doubling him over. “You and Adrian set this up, in order to try and make me look like a horn dog masturbator...when I know it was YOU he caught, using MY name, MY appearance, and MY reputation. Do you want to know why Kevin didn’t choose you? It is because he knows what you have done. He was simply saving you the embarrassment of being exposed in public...but then, that's what I am great at, as you have experienced.”
Dion leaned down, close to Sean’s ear. “So…until Kevin returns...I am in control.” he whispered, “and you...you will be nothing more...than my little bitch...be sure to pass that message to Adrian...” He delivered a right hook, connecting with Sean’s temple. Sean collapsed in a heap, groaning from the pain. Dion looked around, breathing heavily. The others at the camp looked at Dion, shocked. They had never seen Dion act the way he had, especially when it came to dealing with people he had problems with. Dion shouted, “DOES ANYONE ELSE HAVE A PROBLEM WITH ME TAKING OVER FOR BISHOP?!” The others shook their heads, returning to what they were already doing.
Dion’s rage subsided, as he clutched at his head. He looked down at Sean, who was still groaning in pain. A look of shock crossed Dion’s face.
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Clap...
Clap...
Clap...
Clap...
Clap...
Clap...
Well done…
Huh? Did...did I do this?
Why of course...this man ruined your reputation...retribution needed to be paid. This is the rage of Bacchus, after all.
Bacchus...you mean…
Why yes, my boy. I am Dionysus...and I am here...to help guide you…
Guide me?
Yes...ha hahahahahahahahaaaa…best prepare yourself, my steward...for life...as you know it...will change...forever...
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