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A Silver Bird's Prayer Part 3

Crossing the streets of Orsia, Mira was walking behind the witch who was guiding her to a hidden corner in the city. It was a chilly evening, lit by the expensive lamps of the townsfolk. On a dark lane however, she noticed a child, climbed on the stone walls of a building, being waited by two cloaked bandits who put their eyes on some easy cash. The small boy was crying throwing money at the criminals, begging to spare his life. Disturbed by this sight, Mira instinctively put her hands on the rapier. "Pay them no mind. Its a common occurrence in this city; it's just business." Fiossa sighed, continuing to quide the way. Yet Mira didn't feel happy with her response. An innocent child, was being robbed and possibly threatened. She knew that fate can be cruel sometimes and everyone gets by how they can, but seeing him in such danger, she couldn't just stand around doing nothing. In a way, the helpless child reminded her of herself. "No. You come with me. It won't take long."Mira said "It's not good to meddle in their work. It's better to go in unobserved, if you want to make it back alive with your friend. Besides, in this city of thieves, you sometimes dont even notice when everything you have is gone. This is the home of some seriously skilled rogues." "Just do what i say, you are in my service, remember. Besides, i lived among such filthy individuals, they could never get the best of me!" "As you wish. Just don't expect me to fight for your cause. I'll be waiting to guide you to the headquarters, and nothing more" "That's what i like to hear!" Closing in on the two thieves threatening the young boy climbed on the roof of an abandoned building, Mira didn't notice that there was another man on the alley, standing with his arms crossed. He wasn't wearing a hood like the other two. The man didn't seem to pay any mind to the desperate screams of the child. His presence surprised Mira. He was a young and tall individual, with long, ebony black hair. The girl could notice 6 finely crafted daggers on his belt. "Witch Fiossa! The man exclaimed. What are you doing here? Why is this girl with you?" Fiossa tried to answer but Mira pushed her aside. "I have urgent business for which i require ms. Fiossa's presence. That being said, you robbing this child really bothers me." Mira took out a bag of coins and offered it to the man. "Here, take this, leave the child alone.." The black haired man chuckled. "You really don't know how things work in this city, do you? It's not only about the coin, it's also about the dignity and professionalism of a thief. These boys just want to get by, climb up the ranks in our guild, so they do as much work as they can. If they never achieve, they never learn" The man in front of her face was seriously confident, and she hated that in people. "I'm in no mood to fight. He's just an innocent kid ,let him go" Mira said. "I have important issues at hand, so i would like you to get the hell out of here right now" T The thief was at first surprised by her answer. Then he smiled, his gray eyes lit with interest. Laughing he snatched the bag of money in Mira's hand and shouted to his subordinates "Don't harm him. Go home for the night boys". The two lads left on his command and the small boy ran crying towards the main street. "I like you, silver haired girl! Only a fool would have the guts to speak up like this to me, Marzion Hexablade, next in line to the leadership of the prolific guild Putrid Rats. But you are no fool, that i can tell. And your pocket is surely generous, paying this much for a stranger, what is your name beauty?" "What a lucky day" Mira thought. Then she loudly said: "Spare me these useless appellatives. My name's Mira Sablier, former Dark Blue Troupe mercenary. You probably heard of us. And you hold one of my comrades captive. I've came to free him. You saw how much i payed for that stranger. I'm willing to pay anything for Bazordius." "I see! So that's why witch Fiossa was in your service. I'll take it from here, so allow her to leave. However, you see, for that man is another matter. He is of a rival criminal organisation and he was caught on our territory. We awaited for someone to come for him to make an exchange, but did you just say you were a former mercenary?" Marzion looked cunningly. "Yes. Me and Bazordius are out of business, we no longer operate for Dark Blue. That is why you will quietly accept my payment and proposal and free him. We don't belong in this country anymore. Trust me, the coin is generous, i no longer need it." "Then, allow me to take you to our headquarters. You probably want to see him first, am i right?" Mira nodded. The sorcerer left on Mira's command, and then, the girl followed Marzion on the dark streets. This was the domain of the filthiest thieves you could find. Thieves that have a strong sense of honor, at least among themselves. Truly unnatural and  distasteful. Mira hated to walk near a black handed man, but it was all for Bazordius. Marzion led her to an abandoned graveyard. Activating a lever hidden in moss with his foot, a tiny door opened near a tombstone. "So this is where the rats have their nest. Among the dead" Marzion went towards it then stopped. He looked at Mira with a serious face. "This is where your friend waits for you. It is our dungeon. Go in and talk to him, i'll wait for you." Mira was reluctant to trust Hexablade. She might have just walked into his trap, but she did it, in the hope that it was a chance to see him. But the man in front of her was nothing but an influencial thief. He seemed skilled enough yet she felt she couldn't match her in combat. If she wouldn't challenge him now, she might as well put the dagger in her back herself. The man had to die right now. "If i wanted to snatch everything you had i would have done it way before and you wouldn't even have noticed. But i like you, and i agreed to a fair deal. Did you decide not to trust me now?" "I never trusted you in the first place. The trap is opened, the location is revealed. I can break a lock myself. Why should i need you?" Mira grinned taking out her silver rapier. "It's the end of a road for you Marzion Hexablade. I'll show you now what i do to those who fuck with my family. Prepare to bite the dust, scum." "You really thought a master thief would settle for a negociation when you have so much to offer and followed me all the way here? You are a fool after all!" Marzion picked two black daggers in his hands, preparing a fighting stance. Mira lunged forward, steadily targetting the deadly sharp end of the blade to Marzion's defying smile Metal clashed in a flash of sparks. Fiery red eyes gazed from the unbreakable distance... To be continued.

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A Silver Bird's Prayer Part 2

She found the inn in a very dirty street. The strong stench was impregnated in the old walls of the narrow, but tall, traditional houses. For the incredibly rich city of Orsia, this street was utter scum. The perfect place for the illegals to nestle their hideouts . She saw light from a small shack, and the door was opened. It couldn't have been any other way, since it was ripped apart, and never mended. Mira could barely make out the word "HERMAN" on the ruined roof.  She entered confidently, but with extra caution in the dubious location and ordered an ale. The innmaster served her and after she gave him the coin, Mira asked the man for Fiossa, the mage. His wife led her in the back of the inn, into a private room that was visibly warmer and cleaner than the rest of the tavern. It had a few tables with dried roses on each of them, and it smelled profusely of cheap feminine perfume. She was told to wait here for Fiossa was announced of her presence. She sat quietly in a chair at a table close to the wall. She could now notice that the room was crowded with unsettling marionettes. The smirks of the dolls, had something human in them, as if souls were trapped inside forever, deprived of thought and emotion, forsaken to laugh and grin to eternity. These necromantic practices gave Mira the chills. She despised these kind of people the most, for their fake arrogance and sense of security due to their magic. In her mercenary career she killed a dozen sorcerers just by tricking them. Yet she couldn't hide her sense of uneasiness and disgust, waiting in this creepy room for the witch. Her, waiting here with those menacing toys was simply a mindgame of the cunning woman, that Mira could smell from a mile away. When she finally breezed in the room, from a different door, the puppets strangely turned their minuscule heads towards her. Mira swore she could hear some whisper gently "Mother". Fiossa wore a black robe, of silk that certainly wasn't cheap, in contrast to the room that was filthy and dusty. She had red hair, and bony face, that mimicked the smiles of her minions somehow. There was no trace of beauty in this woman, yet she displayed the proud attitude of a rich and influential spouse of a rich lord. All Mira could feel while watching the tall witch come towards her, was her own burning impulse to punch her in the face. From the same door, a young blonde man exited, pulling up his trousers. Fiossa waved at the lad and said "Bye sweetheart". Mira chuckled. So much for her mindgames, the woman was as incompetent as a donkey on a hill. Easy prey. Fiossa then turned all her attention to Mira: "Hello young lady. What brings you to my shack? What kind of services are you asking of me?" Mira stared in her small, gross eyes smiling and answered: "Well..you obviously offer a vast palette of services.. But not here to request any services. My name is Mira Sablier, former executive of the Dark Blue Troupe and i believe you might have some information about a... comrade of mine, missing in action. Am i mistaken, witch Fiossa?" Fiossa displayed an irritated grin. It was obvious she was expecting this. She looked at the puppets in distress and snapped her shaking fingers. Then she said: "I do know about it. But i am fo not have any authority over the release of prisoners. You will have to speak to the leader of the Putrid Rats" "Whether you can help me it matters not. I just need information. Where can i find their leader" Mira asked Fiossa smiled. "Well that won't come cheap. My loyalty resides with the one who pays more. And the Rats sure pay well for my influence.. And power. So what are you willing to offer for this precious bit of insight?" Mira stood up and grabbed her trusty silver rapier holding it towards the witch's mug: "Is your life worth anything to you?" "Are you really trying to measure your force against a sorcerer of my caliber?" "I' ve killed wizards and witches stronger and more threatening than you, for dirt cheap and no stakes at all. This time it's for my friend. Want to see what i'm capable of?" Fiossa trembled along with her puppets in unison. The living dolls, with souls tormented inside them, jumped with sharp metal claws to Mira's exposed neck. The angered Fiossa unleashed her tiny army to kill the young girl whose wits she did not like. However Mira crushed the head of the puppets gracefully. She was flying through small wooden bodies slashing and piercing with a speed that defied time itself. The wretched subjects of the witch layed broken on the floor, and Fiossa stared terrified at the scene. Her heart pounding, she had never met anyone in this town to not be afraid of her witchcraft. Desperate, the woman clutched her hand casting a bolt of transparent arcane. Mira reacted holding her sword towards the fast reaching ray of magic. In an instant she skillfully deflected the bolt, its energy conducting in the shiny silver blade. "Unicorn root infused, anti catalyst and natural magnet for magic. I'm always prepared", Mira proudly smiled assuring her dominance on the witch who was petrified from the scene. "You are completely powerless, but i could at least make use of your influence. Lead me to Bazordius, if you want to keep your sorry life" The humilliated woman rose from her chair and silently nodded.

[rinsatheobserver-blog]

A Silver Bird's Prayer Part 1

It was a twilight like no other on the docks of Orsia to the Whisperer's Sea. The sun was cuddling gently in the harsh edges of the Forefather's Mountains, reflecting towards the windows of the rich harbor, unseen rays of clarity. There seemed to be calm all around the small ships that were still in the bay. The atmosphere was was certainly something to remember, as Orsia, despite being a very rich Dracomorsian port of the South, it was bloated in criminals, bands of thieves and occultic societies. Orsia was a city of converging different cultures. An old elven altar, it was abandoned several hundreds of years ago, and then occupied by humans of Nordyn and Raconia. 250 years ago however, it entered in the jurisdiction of the Dracomorsian Empire, who started to trade with the nations of the southern continent, assuring a prosperous economy in this geographical point. However, since everyone could be prosperous, Orsia gathered thieves from all over the world ready to take on the imperial guards to have a taste of the folk's treasures. Thus, entire guilds of rogue bandits were started over night. Yet Mira did not come here to do such a thing. The remarkably beautiful young girl in leather brown trousers, with a long coat tied with a peculiar number of buttons, that had a pink ribbon, giving her a decievingly friendly look arrived this noon hidden in a transport ship. She was unseen and quiet as a cat. Mira was about 19 years of age, and had the red eyes of a dracomorsian. Tall, young, beautiful, with silver hair of unspeakable beauty, what was she seeking in this town as much as to sneak illegaly on a boat to get here. The thing is, she was not looking for anything in particular. She was searching someone. She had to leave that bloody guild. The girl only joined because she had nowhere else left to run. She lost everything that day. And what is lost can never be regained, so she just wiped her tears and moved on. She didn't like it in there but it paid well. It was only natural that she would leave the Dark Blue Troupe when she would find her true purpose in life... Also after making it big. She did not care that she was a mercenary and was paid to kill. All she did was for the purpose of survival. If it wasn't for him, she would starve in a corner of the street. He, showed her how to live in this world, and although it was a horrifying life, she lived to see this very day. When he was gone too, she did not need to be a pawn anymore. She had to come back for him. She couldn't leave him behind after everything.. Honor meant nothing to her. It was just one word that people used to gain comfort. What purpose stands honor when you lie on the ground with your brains out? She laughed at those knights in shiny armor who travel kingdoms to fetch things for their sovereign lord in the name of nobility, marriage and also honor. She hated those who threw their lives away for something as meaningless as this concept. Mira thought that people should live after their own ideals of ethics, but above else the purpose in life is survival. The strong carry on, and the weak perish. That is the way of the true world. Those who dont value their lives enough, should never have had them to begin with. Honour is the reason her whole life turned to ruin. When she was 12 years old, her father killed a lord of a familly that was rivalling to the emperor's favour for generations. The lord insulted Mira's mother, Johanna so her father, Edmund Sablier challenged him to a duel for his family's honor. Using a silver rapier, passed among generations of the Sablier family, Edmund slayed the man in fair combat. However, the dead lord's family held a grudge and 3 months later, on a silent night, the Sablier residence was raided and burned down and everyone, except Mira was assassinated. Left with nothing but the ashes and her father's silver rapier she escaped the inferno triggered by political conflict, she fled to the west and never looked back to her native lands. Then she met Bazordius, a war deserter who abandoned his duties and just as her despised the ideal of honour. He guided her to live in a way that she could get by and forget the past. Bazordius was a great man, who made her powerful, not only in strength but also in spirit. Disappeared in a contract in this city of Orsia, Mira had to save him. The disgusting rats in this city had him. Nasty smugglers who deserve to be crushed and rot in their gutters. She was resting on a barrel in the docks. Her beautiful white hair in the light of sunset attracted the gazes of people in the market. But her red eyes full of confidence gave her an unaproachable air. She was a strong young lady, tried by fate. Nothing could stand in her chase towards her ideals. Honor and glory made her sick, and she didn't need any more power. She simply wanted to live a quiet, happy life, outside the turmoil, wars and quarrels of her mother land. Village life suited her, but not here, somewhere in the far west, in Green Garden, where there are no wars, just very rich grumpy old men. No time for such thoughts now however. It was time to work. "Hello sir, she spoke to the Harbormaster. Busy day today, am i right?" The tired man looked at her: "Yeah, you could say that. But what is a pretty young lady like you doing in this city? Are you off on the prowl for pockets? Or is it trading and shipping that fancies you?" Mira responded: "I'm just a girl up for some adventure... But first i need to make a stop somewhere. Mind if i ask about something? You look like you know the city quite well" "Go ahead, i've got nothing better to do anyway" "I'm looking for a woman. Tall and carries a black staff all the time. She's a mage and apparently lives here. If i'm not mistaken her name is Fiossa..."said Mira to the Harbormaster. "I might know just who you are looking for. But, look, you might not want to mess around with the likes of her. She's a mage of the most peosperous thief guild here: The Putrid Rats. They are the filthies criminals in this city, thats for sure. I think you can find her at Herman's Inn." Mira nodded and thanked the old man. Then she jumped off the barrel as quiet and gracious as a cat on a roof. She looked determined towards the crowded streets filled with all kinds of people. She could already feel pairs of eyes following her as she started walking, searching Herman's Inn. She smiled; "Let them come, she said to herself, then looked at her sheated rapier. I'm a big girl, i can manage.."

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The Raven's Embrace

"What happens when pitiful human beings try to replicate God? What happens when they climb endless stairs to see a sickly and pale light that is divinity? What happens when they step on corpses to take a bite of the forbidden fruit? What answer do they get, when they fail to know their own place? is the only word uttered, by suffocating black walls in their tainted souls. There is always one who carries the burden of paralyzing screams, bitter tears and innocent blood. And he stands there, in the dark to simply shout out this word." Those words were etched on a notebook with brown, ragged covers. Scratched and covered in stifling dust, the notebook stood beside a black figure, closely resembling a raven, that was resting by a tree. The man under the cherry tree was covered from feet to head in deep black. His leathery and elegant clothes were fit for an agile warrior, with the sense of foolishness that denied the use of mail in their craftsmanship. He wore a mantle with raven feathers glued to it, as if they paradoxally grew from the fine leather. Stains of fresh blood sprayed across his chest piece, slowly dripping on the barren ground. The tall, shrouded man, breathed heavily, not long after he completed his last hunt. "Hunt" is a noble word in this case. What happened here was in no way a hunt. It was a slaughter of innocent souls. Hours ago it was simply a small village, right next to the crimson woods of the northern realm of humans, named Braldenn (or Baraldeen for the Dracomorsian neighbors). Now, in the crimson sunset, the village lacked just one thing. The common folk. A muder of crows stalked the dead bodies on brown roofs made of straw. The birds awaited the consent of the Reaper before feasting on human flesh. The Reaper was holding beside him a silver scythe, now drenched in red. He had great trust in this wild weapon of immense power. With this schythe, the efforts of the villagers to barricade their houses and hide their young ones were all in vain. The reach of the deadly blade was unconcievable. There were close to 20 corpses in the courtyard of the church, almost 30 more in the small marketplace. Men, women,children and elders, lied in the streets. They had harrowing last moments, as the Raven ripped their guts out. The rest, found their ends in their small houses, maybe in barns with their animals. Only the nauseating stench of lifeblood, splashed on the stone stairs, on the walls of rudimentary buildings, on the ground and even on the trees remained. The Reaper under the cherry tree found the smell quite intoxicating, hardly restraining himself from taking a sample. But this was corrupted blood, the result of unspeakable sins, and it had to wash away into dust. But it was all inevitable. He knocked on their gates for 3 days straight, to announce his omenous arrival. They were doomed to this fate by their "saviours", the  Crimson Ascendants, blasphemous sinners who went against the way of the world, and stole forbidden power. What was their laughable ambition? To restore mankind to the status of gods, as they once were considered. The thing that brought their downfall in the first place. And how they would achieve it? Sacrificing lives, experimenting with human flesh and soul and making pacts with otherwordly entities.  Those were the Reaper's enemies. In his eyes, they were mistakes of existence, and they had to be erased. He was contracted to bear and cleanse their undoings, to play the part of executioner and unleash his vengeance. The villagers listened to the Ascendants' lies, and drank foul potions that were said to tend to any illness. It was only an excuse to have them tested, and the villagers agreed to take the curse into them. Should the Reaper have waited a few days more, they would have died of agonising pain in their beds. In killing them, the murderer showed mercy. Indeed, nothing but death was left behind, and the shrouded man who did it all finally stood from his rest, put away his notebook and carried his weapon in his two strong hands, shielded by clawed gauntlets. He stepped carefully, in a relaxed way until he exited the village. Then, the flock of ravenous crows descended on the desecrated ground of the village, so that the tracks of the slaughter would be perfected entirely. The was no sign of remorse on his pale face. His sickening yellow eyes, partially covered by his long white hair, pitied the slain, but they also shadowed his dormant hatred that sealed away all his other emotions. He breathed normally now, and walked slowly entering the woods. He sensed a malevolent presence there, that he had to tend to urgently. In the shadowed forest, the light of twilight was still shining clearly through the slender trees. He could hear howls of strong, prey animals on his track. Probably the hounds of a Supervisor of the Crimson Ascendants, that had to observe and evaluate the current experiment. Nothing but disgusting, cruel humans. After they ruin lives, they wait patiently to harvest their own benefits. The Supervisor was his next prey, a link that would lead him closer to breaking the organisation finally. The Raven clutched his scythe in a defensive stance, waiting to be surrounded by the attackers. Walking slowly towards the centre of the forest, he was ready for anything. After a few seconds he could finally see a pack of 12 dogs closing in, barking with thirsty teeth. Their master was close. A circular move of the scythe made the dogs think twice about underestimating the man in black cloaks. The Reaper quickly followed up with a hurricane strike, that obliterated the threat. All 12 beasts fell at once. Not long after that, the master of these dogs appeared in his face. He wore yellow cloth with a velvet scarf and a typical hat of a Crimson Ascendant. He carried a steel sword in his right hand. He was young and his face was lit with disappointment and anger. A strong affinity to dark magic could be read in his black eyes. "Who are you to interfere in our work?" he shouted towards the Raven. But he did not get a response. Instead, he recieved a gigantic blade swung at his neck. But the supervisor was agile. If he wouldn't have dodged at the perfect moment, his head would now be on the ground. "You seem to be a tough one. But unfortunately for you i am not slacking off today! You are facing Yarg, High Warlock of the Crimson Ascendants. Have at you." Then the man lunged backwards and touched the ground with the palm of his hand. It shook for a second, then from thin air two huge fiery hounds materialised, barking and waiting for the command of their conjurer. "You might have taken care of my dogs but how will you deal with undying Hell Hounds? Attack!" Yarg smirked. The hounds with burning flesh and fiendish fangs jumped in Raven's face, only to be smashed by the curved blade. Infused with cleansing powers, the scythe extinguished the flames of hell, in the desperate gaze of the warlock. He pulled more out of the ground, trying to stop the advance of the Reaper that threateningly closed towards him. The invoked beasts merely rushed to their deaths, as gracious and deadly swings of the great scythe swiftly ended their existence. "You bastard. Where do you have that weapon?" Yarg cried terrified. "I have never seen something like this before", thought the supervisor "he leaves me no choice..." Yarg took out a small bottle with a grey liquid in it. The Raven nodded hatefully, as the warlock drank the potion, shaking uncontrollably. With a hoarse voice, the Reaper whispered: "You will only delay your end, Tainted One.." Upon drinking the mysterious liquid, the warlock changed completely. He grew taller and horns erected from his head. His frail, young hands turned into muscular claws of demonic origin. The monster sealed inside Yarg's body was unleashing. With red eyes he leapt to Raven's spot preparing a crushing blow. He missed, hitting the rock behind, as the Reaper jumped to safety. He hit back on his spine with with a clear cut. Yarg roared as blood leaked from his back. The beast started a murderous rampage hitting quickly with rapid strikes of the elongated claws. Not a single one of them hit, as they were all dodged gracefully. A counter hit struck the chest of the abohorrent monster that was already feeling drowsy, succumbing to the darkness of death. Coughing blood and aware of his low chances of winning, Yarg tried to run back from where he came. The Raven smiled then as he pulled a small pistol from his pocket. A thundering noise filled the air of the forest and Yarg fell helplessly to the ground, flat on his belly. His knee was destroyed by the bullet, flawlessly shot. The beast man knew he was finished and succumbed to what was still human inside him. Fear made him scream and cry pathetically. When the Reaper would reach him with his slow steps, he would be no more. The half beast half man struggled to utter a final question: "Who...are you?" Raven stood right in front of him laughing. He looked Yarg right in his eyes, piercing his very soul. He placed his scythe's blade to the back of his neck, making him rise on his veiny legs. Yarg could barely stand. Then the schythe lowered to his torso, orientated to Raven's left as if the reaping weapon wanted to hug his dying victim. "I am Endor, the Raven and the Reaper, and I am the one who will put you and your foolish dreams to rest. You, have overstept your bounds. May the Raven's Embrace shoulder your corrupted soul and the merciful earth break away your tainted flesh.." Then Endor sliced Yarg from his back in a bloody embrace. The two parts of the body, fell, ripped apart on the forest ground. A crow on the blackened branch was eager to feast already. Night was falling....

[rinsatheobserver-blog]

Reblog if you think Darksiders 3 should be made.

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Book of Rinsa, the Observer: Part 3 Swallowtail

Hidden, in an untouchable shadow, our kind built a small civilisation. We would be the Order of Observers, eyes beyond life and death, dark and light, fog or clear skies. We were neutral watchers and historians. The planes of existence, were mere doors for us, to open with the blink of the Eyes of God. Our cruel fate was to see and write everything that happened. What for? To favour a god that was no more? Is it not ironic how the Observers, beings who define upon their vision, would so blindly follow a laughable request? I never understood this.

As the worlds developed, we would travel and observe. To create memories in order to uncover lost memories. A truly wicked concept. We would return and write it all down on the tapestries on the walls of the temple. Time was flying by us, yet we would not even pay attention.

And then we quickly found out how the worlds that were born not too long ago, perished into nothing, in communion with a Unity. The Universe started, developed and ended. It would then start all over again. This was the Ouroboros pattern. To study what happens in each of these cycles, until we find out the truth and time stops.

And we went through countless cycles. They were each different, giving birth to new worlds, new lives. The stories we wrote were dull at first, but inscribed in them something wonderful. A beauty and a bittersweet cruelty that me and my brother cherished. However, to be an Observer, is to always watch…and never to touch. This beauty shunned us, gray beings of endless monotony and knowledge.

The Ouroboros pattern showed us different pictures each time, yet there were things ever-persisting. Firstly we observed that every living being contained a soul, a tiny piece of power originating from the creation. After all, the Universe was just a sculpture broken in infinite fragments. Some souls came with an anomaly however. It could be described as an elevation of the normal soul and each being possesed a certain degree of it. We named it Humanity, for the true soul was at the foundation, a Human soul.

We were ourselves a humanoid race. That would be the first clue we got about what was lost… So were the High Beings. Born near the 7 shards of creation upon which the dimensions converge, they posses the strongest souls. Elevated and ascended beings, they could wield the great ancestral power of the shards, eventually linking it to their souls to become even stronger. The one being who would collect all 7 became the Ultimate God, the core of the Universe itself. Then it would become one with it, destroying it and rebuilding it upon the power of its ultimate soul. The shards transcended the cycle,each story resulting with the Ascension of an Ultimate God. This being is allowed to peer into the past, to see the truth the Observers have been seeking for eons. Yet me and my brother were touched by this truth. The Swallowtail showed us the answers, yet we have seen different things. We ran out of time however, and our wills clashed. We were shattered to pieces. At the dusk of this old dillema, the final truth is about to be unravelled

[rinsatheobserver-blog]

♡ || Minimalist Hunter x Hunter (720x1280px)

Part 1

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                                               "It was the start of a stormy night, fierce and drenched with blood,                                                                                                    yet somehow overwhelmingly sad.“

#hxhweek2016  //  day two:  kukuroo x mountain  (favorite scene)

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Noice

Pokemon Mashups

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Lol

(Bonus: size comparison w/ my other boys Vergil and Dante)

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Book of Rinsa, the Observer: II Shattered Creation

The Observers were born with the Universe itself. Creatures without home or purpose, we were created with Undying Ash to a fate of terrifying immortality. We were born blind at the dawn of existence itself, unable to see its marvels. But at the Genesis, just after our birth,we were put to an eternal sleep, our memories stolen from us. Such was the will of the Elusive Creator, whose face we cannot remember, for we had no eyes. Yet somehow, we know he was there with us, and he was our caring father. We would later see the Beginning in the Shards of Creation.

The Universe, this great amalgamation of worlds, dimensions and realities is as fleeting as a leaf in a swift river but undying as a cold monolith. As finely crafted as the web of a spider, our universe is made of endless planes intersecting each other. They contain worlds filled with life, floating and coming in contact with each other since the eldest of times. The Universe is a completely and utterly infinite creation, and like an Ouroboros eating his own tail, the Universe has died and revived from nothing countless times. We, the Observers, have seen everything.

Yet we still don’t know the clear origin of ALL. Stripped away of our memories, under an omenous sleep we stood inertly between the planes of existence.

Until God decided to awaken us. He was no mere God, he was space and time itself. The worlds were crumbling near him, and light was dragged helplessly into his giant, single eye. He was called the One Eyed God and the Universe was one with him. He was a giant being surrounded by millions of arms. Yet his appearance was fading amongst the many dimensions converging onto him. He was a god and all that was near him was dying to fuel his existence. It seemed as if a god and his creation couldn’t co exist. Pitiful, really. But we would soon uncover the true nature of this façade. He gave eyes to us, ever existant beings. He told us to watch and write everything down. To study the universe until the secret would be revealed. The secret to the Beginning and the End that eluded him. This god was unknowing, and dying. Ironically, the mightiest of beings, was sick and in a depressing decadence. He needed eyes to watch, even when he would be no more. After all, what is there to wish other than absolute knowledge? He gave each of us 3 eyes. Eyes that would see through all light and dark, through dream and reality.Yet, The All Seeing Eyes of God planted in our brains could not see what was right in front of them. Those were the tools to uncover the truth. A truth that would hide for thousands of eons. A truth unseen by divinity. Such was our peculiar quest. To discover the meaning behind all. The Universe itself perished in the God’s gaze, but we remained alive somehow, for that was our fate. We watched this scene baffled and afraid. Then, he sacrificed all that he was, his very being, to recreate Everything all over again. The Universe began once more. Our destinies and our times, started just at that moment.

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Dicks out for my boy Suwa :'(

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HUNTER X HUNTER 2011, one of the most epic shounen of all time!

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GHOST HOUND

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"Remember us...Remember...That we lived." - Nine

Winter will cover everything...

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