[Action within Genessia City]

[warring_triad]

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!]

Comments

[warring_triad]

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?"

[maybeitsmaybelline]

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."

[warring_triad]

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."