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shiva_dancing_backup2010-03-20 02:05 pm
immoralkuja.livejournal.com) wrote in shiva_dancing_backup2010-03-20 02:05 pm
Entry tags:
(no subject)
Who: Kuja, Sephiroth, Xehanort, Vanitas, Kefka, Magus, and one extraordinarily confused black mage.
What: New evil lair of doom and death! Wholesome! Shiny! Safe!
Where: The Outer Continent
Warnings: Evil lair may not actually be wholesome or safe.
For some time now there had been an unusual amount of traffic flowing through the Outer Continent. Cargo ships laden with supplies, smaller vessels carrying workers, and one very irate dragon came and went at irregular intervals. It looked for all the world as if Kuja had decided to build a village out here.
In truth, it was only his palace being worked on. He barely remembered destroying it at this point, only that he had when he'd sent roots from the Iifa Tree erupting out in all directions, but perhaps it was best if those memories remained muddled and vague. It felt as if another Kuja had gone through that horrible time when he could have sworn he heard each second of his life running down, a steady, neverending tick-tick-tick as loud and maddening as a metronome, and he was not about to disabuse himself of that comfort by dwelling on it unnecessarily; it allowed him to keep a healthy distance between himself and his own mortality even after he'd already died once.
Keeping busy helped, too, and he had been busy, albeit with nothing that his fellow villains would find useful to themselves. They could plot the downfall of humanity or spread that virus around for kicks or whatever it was they were all doing--he had more pressing concerns at the moment, like making sure everything was just right with the restoration of his home. He was sinking quite a bit of money into it, far more than he'd paid for his airship, and woe betide the stonemason who got a single detail wrong. Altogether, however, he was pleased with what had been accomplished. Humans really were industrious builders if you assembled a large number of them, bribed them adequately, gave them a few black mages to carry things around and do the monotonous, repetitive tasks that nobody liked, and worked them around the clock.
Of course, the black mages were made from Mist. Some of the workers had begun coughing after a short while, and that had irked him at first, but he'd only needed them to stay alive and fit until they were done shoring everything back together and repairing the broken stonework. Now that the place was livable they could crawl off into a corner and die of that pesky little virus for all he cared (although it would be a shame if he ever needed them to come back and fix something). At this point he had only to put the finishing touches on it himself, and then he'd be satisfied.
But for now he was relaxing in the shade of the airship dock and supervising as his black mages, given new orders, took quite a large amount of furniture off the Angel's Raine. He reclined against the wall, his face lifted to the cloudless, sunny sky, and heaved a sigh of contentment. What a marvelous day this was! Surely nothing could ruin it for him.
What: New evil lair of doom and death! Wholesome! Shiny! Safe!
Where: The Outer Continent
Warnings: Evil lair may not actually be wholesome or safe.
For some time now there had been an unusual amount of traffic flowing through the Outer Continent. Cargo ships laden with supplies, smaller vessels carrying workers, and one very irate dragon came and went at irregular intervals. It looked for all the world as if Kuja had decided to build a village out here.
In truth, it was only his palace being worked on. He barely remembered destroying it at this point, only that he had when he'd sent roots from the Iifa Tree erupting out in all directions, but perhaps it was best if those memories remained muddled and vague. It felt as if another Kuja had gone through that horrible time when he could have sworn he heard each second of his life running down, a steady, neverending tick-tick-tick as loud and maddening as a metronome, and he was not about to disabuse himself of that comfort by dwelling on it unnecessarily; it allowed him to keep a healthy distance between himself and his own mortality even after he'd already died once.
Keeping busy helped, too, and he had been busy, albeit with nothing that his fellow villains would find useful to themselves. They could plot the downfall of humanity or spread that virus around for kicks or whatever it was they were all doing--he had more pressing concerns at the moment, like making sure everything was just right with the restoration of his home. He was sinking quite a bit of money into it, far more than he'd paid for his airship, and woe betide the stonemason who got a single detail wrong. Altogether, however, he was pleased with what had been accomplished. Humans really were industrious builders if you assembled a large number of them, bribed them adequately, gave them a few black mages to carry things around and do the monotonous, repetitive tasks that nobody liked, and worked them around the clock.
Of course, the black mages were made from Mist. Some of the workers had begun coughing after a short while, and that had irked him at first, but he'd only needed them to stay alive and fit until they were done shoring everything back together and repairing the broken stonework. Now that the place was livable they could crawl off into a corner and die of that pesky little virus for all he cared (although it would be a shame if he ever needed them to come back and fix something). At this point he had only to put the finishing touches on it himself, and then he'd be satisfied.
But for now he was relaxing in the shade of the airship dock and supervising as his black mages, given new orders, took quite a large amount of furniture off the Angel's Raine. He reclined against the wall, his face lifted to the cloudless, sunny sky, and heaved a sigh of contentment. What a marvelous day this was! Surely nothing could ruin it for him.
no subject
"Ah, so you are Kefka. Interesting indeed." and it wasn't as if he were lying about it, it was interesting.
Pandora has just started playing "Peace Be Upon Us." BRB LOLing.
When Kefka spoke incredulity shadowed the Genome's face.
Then he grinned, and the expression was somehow worse than any amount of rage or indignation would have been. His eyes briefly darted past the jester to Sephiroth behind him, gauging his position. Mage on one side of Kefka, swordsman on the other. Everyone but Magus, who only seemed curious, either angry or irritated. Well.
"How adorable," he purred, saccharine-sweet now, and finally did place his wine aside. He stretched as he got to his feet, a fluid, luxurious movement that sent his arms out and his whole body arching up on his toes, like he'd just woken from a nap and needed to limber up. "Perhaps I can help you come to a decision?" Kuja crooked a finger as if to suggest that Kefka lean in to hear his suggestion, conspiratorial and inviting, but he was already stepping in close--close enough to crowd, and lean in himself, intimate, as if to whisper something.
The black mage continued to try and get up for a few seconds, but Vanitas had it pinned and it ceased struggling soon enough, its limited reasoning abilities working overtime as it contemplated this new obstacle. It didn't know how to ask Vanitas to move, so it could only draw one conclusion: it had to move him. "KILL," it decided a bit uncertainly, raising its arms.
And went limp, the yellow glow of its eyes dimming, as Kuja, not looking round, reached his mind out to whatever passed for its own and shut it off.
no subject
"Oh really, well I was never much for listening to others" Kefka said as Kuja leaned in close. "Bio" he spoke, the poison gas spell spreading outward from Kefka's body.
no subject
Save for the fact that, quick as a striking snake, his fingers grabbed and held and he confided, "Wrong answer."
Lightning leapt from his fingers. With his hand on the jester's head the concentrated Thundaga really only had one place to go.
Somehow Kuja doubted that he'd have enough decency to perish, but a few thousand volts to the brain ought to at least incapacitate anyone.
no subject
There was no reason to interfere. Yes, his own revenge would have been so sweet, -and he eventually would be the one to slam Masamune through the clown's brain in the end, so he swore- but for now he would just help his host in his own fight. With that in mind, he slipped back away from the direct line of fire and cast DeSpell upon Kuja to rid the man of Bio's effects just when they would begin to take hold.
no subject
Xehanort growled as he stepped back. "Vanitas, KILL HIM"
no subject
The drunken Unversed Lord stood up fast, knocking the Black Mage away in the process, and flashed a huge grin to his master. His intoxication was gone in an instant.
"Finally!" He donned his mask again in a flash, and, not a second later, his keyblade was in his hands. As he flew at Kefka, malevolent, purely gleeful laughter broke out from him as he chopped down at the jester. He hadn't killed anyone of import as of yet, so being allowed to kill one of his master's "allies" was possibly the most excitement he'd have for a while!
"Guess your luck ran out Klowny!" he laughed.
no subject
When Vanitas leapt in and attacked, hopefully providing at least a momentary distraction, Kuja took the opportunity to unleash several fast-moving contrails of bright, purplish energy at the jester, at more or less point-blank range. It was Flare magic in a denser, more compact form--quicker to charge than Ultima, and still powerful, to interrupt Kefka's spell as it formed.
And also, incidentally, to try and knock him towards the glint of Masamune as it appeared. A fight between mages tended to be a disaster for their surroundings, and it seemed that Kuja still hoped to end this quickly and with a minimum of damage to his home.