genessia | [Action within Genessia City]

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[Action within Genessia City]

In Genessia City, what appears to be a new fashion trend is starting to pick up. Many people are ditching their old styles and donning a more conservative look. Simple black robes can be seen everywhere, and those that wear them also bear what appears to be a tattoo on the back of each hand. Three interlocking circles. When questioned, those that wear the robes will eagerly tell of their newfound faith. How they were blessed with a glimpse of their God in person, and that the brand is his mark on their lives. They will also say that the robes are very much optional but that they choose to wear it in deference to their new God.

Those that inquire further will be pointed toward a back alley, where the man that was seen speaking of his own revelation the previous month is standing guard. Only a select few will be allowed past him and into the humble sanctum where Kefka awaits. Are you one of those? At any rate, the 'prophet' will interview any that come to him before that choice is made.

"What can I help you with, my child?"

[OOC: Phase 1 of Kefka's plot is underway! Come banter with the prophet, or come collect your brand and go forth to sow Chaos!]

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[ Whatever Kefka is doing, there are eyes set on him. Marde Guille seems to be intrigued with what he's doing and whatever he was proposing didn't seem to interest the demon, but he's not one to sit out on gathering some useful information from a proposed god.

Whatever he chose to do-- as long as it doesn't affect Tartaros position or Zeref, he wouldn't interfere, but gathering the needed sources was imperative for the demon as he continues to find a way to gather the information he needed to eventually crush Fairy Tail, and released E.N.D. ]

Of course something like this needs investigating.

And she's intent on finding out more, but as the joke-loving girl that she is, she forgets her priorities for a bit;

"Are you hippo critical at the zoo?"

The prophet rolls his eyes at the question, even if Kefka himself is rather amused by the ignorance of the child and who she is joking with.

"I am very sorry my child, I don't have time to indulge your jokes. Why not go play elsewhere?"

Oh come on, it's not a question, it's a joke. Everyone loves jokes. Especially Minori.

"Not without an even playing field." And because she's such a lady, she bursts out laughing. Apparently, she thinks she's very funny. Obviously, the most proper little shrine maiden ever has appeared.

The prophet is at a loss, really. He doesn't really know how to respond to that. As such, he just kind of stands there, as a small snicker can be heard down in the alley.

For as big of a moron as she is, Minori can still hear pretty well. She hasn't spent her time with a magical monster cat for nothing. So her laugh is cut off, and she peers curiously toward the alley. "Anyone the~re?"

Roman's open to the possibility that a god exists, but he's pretty skeptical of a god who attracts these kinds of followers. He'll play along, though. If someone's managed to get this kind of fanatical following, god or man, Roman should probably check it out. Who knows? Maybe he can get in on the scheme.

...Maybe. So far, he's not impressed.

"Oooooh." He cringes and holds his hands up. "You can't help me with anything if you're going to call me your child. I get that you're into the creepy cult vibe, but infantilizing a grown man is just a little too much."

The prophet rolls his eyes at that. "We are all children of th--" he blinks for a second as he's cut off mid-sentence by seemingly nothing. He glances over his shoulder and acts... surprised.

"V-Very well, my lord..." he murmurs before turning back to face Roman. "It appears our God has foreseen your coming, and has instructed me to send you to him..."

A small... thing appears from the shadows. About half Roman's height it appears to be a bizarre melding of flesh and steel, made to look like a clockwork knight. Crimson armor, sickly green face, along with a sword and shield.

"Follow this Metal Hitman, and he will direct you to our Lord's sanctuary."

So that was how this worked, was it? This prophet drew them in, made them feel special with that line, then led them into the sanctuary for... what? The converts in the street acted as if they were brainwashed. Roman wasn't worried about that happening to him-- he was smarter, better than the rabble who fall for that kind of thing-- but he had to be ready for anything. He frowned as he sized up the Metal Hitman.

"Charming name for it," he said finally, affecting a lighthearted tone even as he tightened his grip on his cane. "Lead the way."

He would follow, but damned if he was getting within a few paces of that monstrosity.

The Hitman tottered along with a deceptive frailness to it. As it went down the alley, it turned sharply into what appeared to be a hole blasted into a wall of a building. Within were all manner of creatures not of any design within Genessia. Then they came to a room with a multicolored cloth acting as a door.

"Enter~" came a voice, and within, Roman would see Kefka lounging in a luxuriously fitted room lounging and leaning against a Grand Behemoth who looked none too comfortable crammed into such a relatively tiny room.

Animals usually put Roman in a bad mood. Chalk it up to being surrounded by Faunus and Grimm all the time. These beasts got some points for being otherworldy and dangerous, at least-- not enough to negate his disdain, but enough to pique his interest.

He stopped just inside the doorway and lounged against his cane. The relaxed posture was at odds with his sharp gaze, which scanned every corner of the room before it finally came to rest on Kefka. He raised an eyebrow.

"What exactly are you the god of?"

Clowns, apparently, but Roman wasn't quite brash enough to suggest that before he could get a feel for the man.

Edited 2015-01-25 22:00 (UTC)

Kefka grinned as Roman took in the surroundings. He allowed the man ample time to examine. Of course once Roman asked the question Kefka was quick to leap into his own brand of pompousness.

"I am the purveyor of change, progress, and bedlam. I am life, death, and war all bound to a single form. I am the lightning, fire, and ice, the seas boil at a word from me and the mountains crumble beneath my gaze. I am the god of magic, of power. The very universe rests in my hands. And you... oh, I know your type. You just want what you want, regardless of who you have to step on to get there... heheh... I like that."

He stands, throwing his arms open as he grinds his heel into the Behemoth's side, ignoring the grimace it gives the mad god. "Which is why I've had my minions bring you here... I have a business proposition I think you might like."

Ok, so he was the god of clowns and pretentious monologues. One day Roman would find a happy medium between a boss who didn't communicate and one who didn't shut up. One day.

Not that he was willing to call this madman his boss. Maybe a business partner, if the offer was good, but he had his dignity to think about. Roman wasn't going to kneel to a guy who wore even more makeup than him.

"You have my attention," he said. "What kind of business proposition?"

Kefka extends a hand, three flaming interlocking rings appearing over his palm. "You see, I thrive on chaos and greed. And you like taking what you want from those that have it, correct?" He pauses a bit but not long enough to give Roman a chance to respond.

"I can give you a part of my power, give you dominion over ice, lightning, and fire. In return, I want you to go out and cause as much mayhem and chaos as you can. Kill any that would stand between you and what you desire~"

"I'm going to assume that's a hypothetical question, since you know my type so well."

There was more than a little sarcasm there. He was shamelessly greedy, but taking things wasn't the point. Mind you he liked the champagne and caviar, but any drug dealer or white collar criminal could have that and deal with a lot less stress. What he loved was the adrenaline when he escaped the cops yet again. He loved the horror of victims who could fight back, but they never did because they had been trapped in a bubble of safety and civilization so long they'd forgotten what they were capable of. He loved the freedom of doing something just to prove that he could. That was worth more than anything he could ever steal.

The offer sounded nice, but it fell firmly in the 'too good to be true' category.

"No no no. 'I thrive on chaos and greed' is cartoon villain motivation. Now I like the direction this is going, but since you're not a cartoon villain--"

He paused and glanced over the absurd clothes and makeup.

"Since you're probably not a cartoon villain," he revised, "I'm going to need to know your real motive."

Kefka studied Roman's body language as he responded, mind clicking back into the diplomat role he had to fill in the Gestahlian empire for so long. Ruthless as he was, he was also skilled at the role, just not subtle. "The real reason?"

He grinned, a dark grin as he flopped back into a lounging position against the Behemoth. "Take a good look at me, and what do you see? My guess is that you see a madman in colorful garb and a painted face. Well guess what?"

Kefka takes two fingers and drags them across his face hard enough to pull the skin along with the fingers for a while before holding them up to show Roman the clean gloves. "This isn't makeup. My skin is bleached, and around my eyes the injection points that gave me my power are forever scarred. The red is where the powdered magicite that was injected into my body gathered. My eyes were irreparably damaged in the procedure preventing me from seeing colors."

How much of what he was saying was up for debate. Not even Kefka knew for sure whether or not he painted his face and just magically sealed the makeup in place or if his face truly was scarred beyond recognition. Like so many things, the truth at any given point for Kefka was whatever he wanted it to be. As such, it was with complete conviction that he glowered as he sat up.

"People saw me as a madman, my disability as proof that I was crazy. They ridiculed me, destroyed my career, and wanted to lock me away. My power was the only thing that kept me out of an insane asylum. Even then, I was a laughing stock in the Imperial Court that I had given so much to. Pitied and despised by those I aimed to help with my research. All those conveniences they enjoyed were derived from my work, and they treated me like dirt."

He pounded his fist on the Behemoth's outstretched leg, a sickening crunch could be heard just before the beast bellowed in pain. Kefka threw the gargantuan beast a dirty look before waving his hand as its snout was encased in ice and the thing began struggling to break the ice.

"You could say I'm a bit bitter and vengeful. I want to see the people of this world who have treated me just as I was treated in mine suffer. To see their bloated society brought low and to show them what true power is."

Kefka watched as the beast's struggles became more and more labored before finally the beast lay still. "How 'bout it? You up to show these conceited fools just how low on the totem pole they truly are?"

Roman listened quietly, his face carefully blank as he considered. That was significantly more than he'd expected from this nut job. And yeah, he was still a nut job. That came with the territory of vengeance and mass destruction, especially considering that Genessia wasn't even the world that did this to him. But he obviously had a keen mind behind all that madness, and who didn't want to see society brought to its knees? Well-- who among the people Roman associated with, anyway. He didn't trust this 'god' but he might be able to respect him, and that was a start.

He pulled out two cigars and lit one. He wasn't quite ready to commit, but for the first time he didn't look like he was ready to turn and run at a moment's notice. He stepped forward and offered the other cigar to Kefka.

"There's not going to be any brainwashing involved, is there? Because I would make a pretty horrible devotee. Robes don't suit me at all."

Kefka grinned as he took the cigar, chomping on it as he flopped back against the now dead Behemoth. He waved his hand slightly as he puffed out two perfectly circle smoke rings.

"Please, if I wanted someone without any kind of free will, you'd already be doing my bidding. That 'prophet' of mine and the robed idiots you see along the streets? They're just trash. Hell the prophet thought it would be funny to see how well I juggled beer bottles before I... heh... enlightened him."

He takes another drag off his cigar, puffing a smoke star, perfectly formed in the air. "No, I want someone cunning, crafty, and ruthless. And while my spells can do a great job of making mindless drones, they don't have the good sense to get in out of the rain. That's why I brought you back here. Take the mark, and walk out with your mind still firmly in your grip, and a some extra firepower to boot."

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[Action within Genessia City]

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