357 replies to this topic

[Prosperan Son]

" Just a simple emblem to declare who you belong to. We wouldn't want anyone else to try and take you away now would we?" Mugiar answered, leading him back through the bone filled hall.

[Armoured Priest]

"Oh." was all Kombuse replied with as he was lead by Mugiar. A few moments past before he spoke again. "I like pictures." he said with a rather wide smile on the mask.

[Prosperan Son]

What happened next passed swiftly and several minutes later, Kombuse was laid flat across a table, arms,legs and head strapped down tightly so he wouldn't move about during the inking. A man stood over him with a long dripping needle gun, donning an apron and a Mask of Silver that resembled a sneering snake" Sadly Kombuse, we do not have any pain killers so this might hurt more then I would hope." The man lied, the pain it brought always pleasing him.

[Armoured Priest]

Kombuse started looking everywhere and at his restraints before looking back to the man with the snake mask. "Uuuuhhhh, ok?" He said, very, very unsure of what is going to happen next. Although he heard the voices getting concerned and the deeper one getting slightly angry now.

[Prosperan Son]

"The Restraints are simply for both of our safety, I assure you. There is no need to worry about it, isn't that right Mugiar?" The Tattooist assured him, looking towards Mugiar for support. Although Mugiar was no where to be seen, having developed a small fear due to his own experiences." Well, I'm sure he would have agreed."

[Armoured Priest]

The red lenses seemed to have grown wider, as if Kombuse was looking at the man with wide eyes. "Oh, uh...I guess we get this done now then?" he asked, wondering where his friend went.

[Prosperan Son]

The man was to busy humming to himself, ignoring anything Kombuse had to say at this point. With a flick of a switch, the needle began to reciprocate back and forth, ink dripping. He stood over Kombuse, kneeling down to press the ink needle into Kombuse, right upper arm, the needle digging through the skin and muscle repeatedly and painfully.

[Armoured Priest]

"OWOWOWOWOWO!" was all Kombuse could say as the ink covered needle digged into his pale flesh. The expression on the mask was one of pain and confusion. The arm that the man was not working on jerked up as if trying to break free to grab the man by the throat. Kombuse tried to fight it, as if something else was controlling the arm.

[Prosperan Son]

"The Pain is good Kombuse! It's simply a sign that your alive!" Laughed the man as he continued to work away at his skin, the wet ink staining muscle and skin permanently.

[Armoured Priest]

Kombuse didn't even say words, just grunts of pain. The voice actually backed off, as if content to wait for the marking to be done and restraints to be done. When the tattooist has his guard down. Kombuse tries to look down to see what the marking even looked like.

[Prosperan Son]

The mark was already beginning to form, resembling something reminiscent to a serpent, wrpped around in a circle, and devouring it's tail, Inside of the circle was a rather eloquent "M" that stood for the Mandori. "We're almost done now Kombuse, then we get to do my favorite part." The Artist smile, pressing harder with the needle gun.

[Armoured Priest]

"What would that be?" he asked hesitantly, the lenses obviously even wider than before. The teeth of the mask seem to have extended as he continued to have the pained expression on the mask snout.

[Prosperan Son]

He didn't answer, either not caring to answer or wanting to. Setting the needle gun aside, he pulled out a small flask and uncapped it. He held it to his nose, sniffing it to see if the liquid within was ripe. "Ah, all ready then." He grinned before pouring the liquid over the tattoo. An intense burning sensation surged through Kombuse's body from the arm, as though it were on fire from within, when all that was happening was that the chemicals in the liquid were sealing and drying the ink faster.

[Armoured Priest]

"AHHH, WHAT IN THE WARP IS THAT?!" Kombuse yelled as the pain surged throught him, almost bolting straight up on the chair if it was not for the restraints. The voice was staying quiet still, waiting. Although he could hear one of the other four voices....giggle. He always wondered why it did so at the strangest times.

[Prosperan Son]

"Just some chemicals that speed up the process of drying Kombuse, you'll be fine."He answered, walking towards the doorway." Now stay in here for a few minutes while it dries off and then we'll have you of those restraints."

[Armoured Priest]

Kombuse just slumped back into the chair after the tattooist left, the pain slowly subsiding now. He let his mind drift, that's is when there were more voices. He wanted to listen to them for the few moments he has to himself now. They were always nice to him, despite not sounding human to him.

[Prosperan Son]

Talking was heard from outside, it sounded partly like an argument and partly a humorous conversation. There was yelling and laughter, it was safe to assume it was the artist and Mugiar.

[Armoured Priest]

Kombuse just stayed quiet as he waited, the pain now gone. He fidgeted his arms and legs everynow and then against the restraints since there is not much else to do. He wished he had someone he knew to talk to right now, or maybe someone he could trust. He sighed and layed his helmeted head back on the chair. "Wonder what the nice demon lady is doing." He randomly asked to himself as he waited, remember some better memories.

[Prosperan Son]

The door to the room burst open as the artist strode in, another flask in hand. Walking over to Kombuse, he sat at the edge of the table, one hand clenching the edge tightly." So Kombuse, is there any trace of pain left over?Aside from the mental of course." He asked , it was hard to tell if he was speaking rhetorically or not.

[Armoured Priest]

Kombuse looked down to the mark on his arm and then up to the Tattooist, not sure who to answer this. "....No?" he said, somewhat unsure what's going to happen now. He really just wants to leave before something else happens, from either the guy or himself.