(no subject)
Mar. 20th, 2010 02:05 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
immoralkuja.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
shiva_dancing_backupWho: 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.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-03-30 09:57 pm (UTC)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.