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The Burden of Judge: Part 1: "Clockwork jester"
Story revovling around Clock:
Name: "Clock"work Jester (Previously: Ayan Jester)
Age: 23
Gender: Male
Height 5" 7'
Eye color: Silver/gray Mask: Black
Species: Currently: Bound Lion-Lizard(Previously: Winged Lion lizard)
Hobbies: Reading, Watching the moon, Board games
Personality: A kind soul, who is mistrusting of people, and highly paranoid of people he has "off feelings" about. Along with Heart, Whom is more stern, and calculating, Clock can be indecisive, taking into consideration His own, and Hearts thoughts.
Textbox Colour: Black, with white text.
(story and lore)About: Ayan.
Having his wings ripped from his back, and face gashed open by spiteful peers, only being spared from further torment by a "Disgraced" Lion-lizard, wielding a weapon it called "Judgement". When the "disgraced" raised Judgement against Ayan for his assumed crimes against his tormentors, Judgement misfired, sending shrapnel through It's mask, ending it's life swiftly. From the untimely death of the Masked man, "Judgement" shifted forms, imbedding itself inside of Ayan, flowing through him like a ghost, vanishing into nothing but a warm pulse emerging from inside of him.
fleeing the site of the tragedy he had just witnessed, and endured himself, he stumbled out into the streets, Face bloodied, and back torn asunder from an impromptu amputation with a dull serrated kitchen knife. The streets were empty with the exception of night owls, shady merchants, and criminals; none of witch could care less if a new corpse showed up on the block, Much less if a "Disgraced" were to die in the mud. Pleading for help from anyone, and everyone, No one would hear him out. They prodded him to just give up, and face his crimes, not knowing the horrors of the night.
Ayan looked the part; A "Disgraced" in the making. No one would help him, regardless of his pleas. To them, he was just another product of rebellion, who would not remain for his "Rite", and would rather try escaping his punishment. The Law was on it's way, Surely they were contacted about the abomination that would dare dirty thier street with it's red paint. they weren't listening to him, they were making sure he couldn't get away, like many others before him had. As the merchants watched onward, The Pulse inside his core grew more violent; matching pace with his own heart as the Enforcers arrived, ready to finish his rite for him.
Restrained to a hospital bed with in a prison cell, Ayan was held for weeks. Watched daily by the guards to ensure he would heal "properly" to their likings. Pouring salt over his face and wings, Rubbing it into the fresh wounds to ensure things would heal with as much scarring and callusing as possible. As all Bound Lion-Lizards should be; Scared beyond recognition, and stripped of their namesakes gift. Forced to bear the name of the Jester association, But bound to be a blank slate, bearing only reminders they were once truly loyal to their culture. All Jester's prided their wings, Regardless of their ability to fly, They were held dear, and adorn.
To lose that gift, a true mark of shame upon oneself, and those around them.
Wounds callused, and wing stubs scorched, he would be released, and given a mask to wear, to hide his face in shame, but continue his journey through life as a "new face". Given the opportunity to draw himself a new face, beaten and bruised for things he had stake in, They carved a smile into the mask; Two lines, and a mouth. The torture was over, and they were free from the pain, able to return to the life they once knew. The Warmth inside had long since subsided, fading away into nothing but his own heart beating inside his chest. He'd survived hell, And was free. with one exception, He was no longer permitted to go by his old name. A new name would need to be chosen before he left.
"Clockwork, Jester," He muttered under his breath. He'd seen the word before on a book title, and liked the picture he saw.
Clockwork, A fitting name for someone like himself. Grey skin, much like those of a gear. "I am Clockwork Jester". The attendant tapped away at her keyboard, and out came a piece of paper from a small terminal. His new information, with all new rules he would have to follow, per standards of living, and how to adapt to his new life as a Bound Lion-lizard. the faintest bit of kindness shown through a piece of paper after weeks of torture. A paper that mealy told him "how to wash his face, and mask," As if it was a problem in the past. The clerk has made a mistake on his name; "Clock Work Jester", would be his new name. a minor mistake, but he had no grounds to resist.
Exiting the jail as a "Disgraced", the heavy eyes of judgement fell upon him from every passerby. Parents hiding away their children, merchants avoiding him as a customer, and the few other Disgraced viewing him as they were once viewed, Hollow eyes on a mask. His vision was hindered, but he could still manage to move around to a fair degree for what it was worth.
Two blocks away from home, The monsters returned. He couldn't see them coming, and just figured it was just someone walking. It was the vial people whom had caused this mess, Coming back to retaliate for the things the Disgraced had done while saving him weeks prior. two men pinned Clock against the floor, while a third struck into his face with a butcher's knife, Indenting cracks on the smile he had added an hour ago. Striking into his mask, and knocking him into the sidewalk, the small warmth returned. Growing in size with each strike against his mask.
Feeling the heat grow from inside, Clock began to struggle more, Feeling as if something was trying to escape him, and consume the world around them. Striking along the mask one last time, Hitting harder than before, Blood began to spill from his scars, the mask digging into him, finally breaking skin. Admiring their handiwork, The knife wielder decided to put the Disgrace out of it's agony, Preparing to slice Clocks neck open, avenging their fallen friend whom was slain by the Man with Judgement. Their final respects to a good man lost.
In an instant, a violent eruption of crystalline glass emerged from Clock's back, Slicing into his restrainers, and forming large arch in the shape of large wings. A Voice rang out from the void inside of him, where the warmth was once held captive, "Are they guilty?" Shocked at the majesty they had the misfortune of awakening before them, They froze, Questioning what they had just witnessed. The disgraced whom saved Ayan had used a rifle bearing a crystal resemblance, but this was far more complex, and extravagant. Wings of an angel, But blades made of cold stone.
Before Clock could even consider the words he had heard, The trio fled away, grasping their cuts, trying to staunch the bleeding. The wings faded, And the warmth returned inside, smoldering like a small flame, waiting to be ignited once more. "What the hell just happened", he though to himself as he dragged himself off the floor, feeling over his mask, already aware the damages were done. The flame grew once more, but remained small inside of his core. "What have i become?" he muttered to himself.
The flame inside spoke, "We, have become a part of each other." It emerged from clocks chest, but took on a different shape than the thing that had entered him. A crystal sphere with 4 spindles jutting out at diagonals. "My previous associate named me "Judgement". I saved you. You can call me what you would like, I don't have a formal name. Your kind name me as you see fit." The crystal was speaking of weeks prior, but what purpose did it have? What was it?
Clock spoke out, tired, and worn, "What would you like me to call you then? And what did you want with me?" Valid questions, But strange ones. resuming his walk home, the crystal followed shortly behind, trailing like a lost puppy, curious of what the world has to offer, but more intrigued by the creature it had found.
"What is that thing inside you? It is important to life. It was growing and shrining. Getting faster, and faster, until it slowed down. What is that? I want to be called that!" The sphere's dialect was advanced, but to not know a simple term such as "heart" raised questions about it's intelligence.
"so you want to be named "Heart." Clock saw no reason to object, It wouldn't matter in the grand scheme of things. "And what do you want with me, Heart?", Facing the small crystal that managed to keep up with him, his blood dried along his neck, the crystal stopped abruptly.
"I want you to help me help people. Just like i helped you. I want to help people, And pass Judgement on those who wrong." Heart had spoken, and Clock had no reason not to. After all, He already lost everything in his becoming of a Disgraced. Why not help people if he could? It'd be something to do while he sorted out his life.
Gazing into a mirror, looking over his scared mask, Clockwork Jester sighed, "Fine. we'll try, but I don't think i'm fit to Judge anyone, or anything."
The voice rang back with a defeated tone, as it submerged itself into his chest once more, "Then we should focus on helping people, And judge if we must." The warmth faded down to a small candle. A light in the dark.
(Winged Lion-lizard is not a speiceis as far as i'm aware, but is a speicies with a dedicated culture, and diffrent subdevisions in it's socioty. Don't ask, idk either.)
<<< PREV | FIRST | NEXT >>>Name: "Clock"work Jester (Previously: Ayan Jester)
Age: 23
Gender: Male
Height 5" 7'
Eye color: Silver/gray Mask: Black
Species: Currently: Bound Lion-Lizard(Previously: Winged Lion lizard)
Hobbies: Reading, Watching the moon, Board games
Personality: A kind soul, who is mistrusting of people, and highly paranoid of people he has "off feelings" about. Along with Heart, Whom is more stern, and calculating, Clock can be indecisive, taking into consideration His own, and Hearts thoughts.
Textbox Colour: Black, with white text.
(story and lore)About: Ayan.
Having his wings ripped from his back, and face gashed open by spiteful peers, only being spared from further torment by a "Disgraced" Lion-lizard, wielding a weapon it called "Judgement". When the "disgraced" raised Judgement against Ayan for his assumed crimes against his tormentors, Judgement misfired, sending shrapnel through It's mask, ending it's life swiftly. From the untimely death of the Masked man, "Judgement" shifted forms, imbedding itself inside of Ayan, flowing through him like a ghost, vanishing into nothing but a warm pulse emerging from inside of him.
fleeing the site of the tragedy he had just witnessed, and endured himself, he stumbled out into the streets, Face bloodied, and back torn asunder from an impromptu amputation with a dull serrated kitchen knife. The streets were empty with the exception of night owls, shady merchants, and criminals; none of witch could care less if a new corpse showed up on the block, Much less if a "Disgraced" were to die in the mud. Pleading for help from anyone, and everyone, No one would hear him out. They prodded him to just give up, and face his crimes, not knowing the horrors of the night.
Ayan looked the part; A "Disgraced" in the making. No one would help him, regardless of his pleas. To them, he was just another product of rebellion, who would not remain for his "Rite", and would rather try escaping his punishment. The Law was on it's way, Surely they were contacted about the abomination that would dare dirty thier street with it's red paint. they weren't listening to him, they were making sure he couldn't get away, like many others before him had. As the merchants watched onward, The Pulse inside his core grew more violent; matching pace with his own heart as the Enforcers arrived, ready to finish his rite for him.
Restrained to a hospital bed with in a prison cell, Ayan was held for weeks. Watched daily by the guards to ensure he would heal "properly" to their likings. Pouring salt over his face and wings, Rubbing it into the fresh wounds to ensure things would heal with as much scarring and callusing as possible. As all Bound Lion-Lizards should be; Scared beyond recognition, and stripped of their namesakes gift. Forced to bear the name of the Jester association, But bound to be a blank slate, bearing only reminders they were once truly loyal to their culture. All Jester's prided their wings, Regardless of their ability to fly, They were held dear, and adorn.
To lose that gift, a true mark of shame upon oneself, and those around them.
Wounds callused, and wing stubs scorched, he would be released, and given a mask to wear, to hide his face in shame, but continue his journey through life as a "new face". Given the opportunity to draw himself a new face, beaten and bruised for things he had stake in, They carved a smile into the mask; Two lines, and a mouth. The torture was over, and they were free from the pain, able to return to the life they once knew. The Warmth inside had long since subsided, fading away into nothing but his own heart beating inside his chest. He'd survived hell, And was free. with one exception, He was no longer permitted to go by his old name. A new name would need to be chosen before he left.
"Clockwork, Jester," He muttered under his breath. He'd seen the word before on a book title, and liked the picture he saw.
Clockwork, A fitting name for someone like himself. Grey skin, much like those of a gear. "I am Clockwork Jester". The attendant tapped away at her keyboard, and out came a piece of paper from a small terminal. His new information, with all new rules he would have to follow, per standards of living, and how to adapt to his new life as a Bound Lion-lizard. the faintest bit of kindness shown through a piece of paper after weeks of torture. A paper that mealy told him "how to wash his face, and mask," As if it was a problem in the past. The clerk has made a mistake on his name; "Clock Work Jester", would be his new name. a minor mistake, but he had no grounds to resist.
Exiting the jail as a "Disgraced", the heavy eyes of judgement fell upon him from every passerby. Parents hiding away their children, merchants avoiding him as a customer, and the few other Disgraced viewing him as they were once viewed, Hollow eyes on a mask. His vision was hindered, but he could still manage to move around to a fair degree for what it was worth.
Two blocks away from home, The monsters returned. He couldn't see them coming, and just figured it was just someone walking. It was the vial people whom had caused this mess, Coming back to retaliate for the things the Disgraced had done while saving him weeks prior. two men pinned Clock against the floor, while a third struck into his face with a butcher's knife, Indenting cracks on the smile he had added an hour ago. Striking into his mask, and knocking him into the sidewalk, the small warmth returned. Growing in size with each strike against his mask.
Feeling the heat grow from inside, Clock began to struggle more, Feeling as if something was trying to escape him, and consume the world around them. Striking along the mask one last time, Hitting harder than before, Blood began to spill from his scars, the mask digging into him, finally breaking skin. Admiring their handiwork, The knife wielder decided to put the Disgrace out of it's agony, Preparing to slice Clocks neck open, avenging their fallen friend whom was slain by the Man with Judgement. Their final respects to a good man lost.
In an instant, a violent eruption of crystalline glass emerged from Clock's back, Slicing into his restrainers, and forming large arch in the shape of large wings. A Voice rang out from the void inside of him, where the warmth was once held captive, "Are they guilty?" Shocked at the majesty they had the misfortune of awakening before them, They froze, Questioning what they had just witnessed. The disgraced whom saved Ayan had used a rifle bearing a crystal resemblance, but this was far more complex, and extravagant. Wings of an angel, But blades made of cold stone.
Before Clock could even consider the words he had heard, The trio fled away, grasping their cuts, trying to staunch the bleeding. The wings faded, And the warmth returned inside, smoldering like a small flame, waiting to be ignited once more. "What the hell just happened", he though to himself as he dragged himself off the floor, feeling over his mask, already aware the damages were done. The flame grew once more, but remained small inside of his core. "What have i become?" he muttered to himself.
The flame inside spoke, "We, have become a part of each other." It emerged from clocks chest, but took on a different shape than the thing that had entered him. A crystal sphere with 4 spindles jutting out at diagonals. "My previous associate named me "Judgement". I saved you. You can call me what you would like, I don't have a formal name. Your kind name me as you see fit." The crystal was speaking of weeks prior, but what purpose did it have? What was it?
Clock spoke out, tired, and worn, "What would you like me to call you then? And what did you want with me?" Valid questions, But strange ones. resuming his walk home, the crystal followed shortly behind, trailing like a lost puppy, curious of what the world has to offer, but more intrigued by the creature it had found.
"What is that thing inside you? It is important to life. It was growing and shrining. Getting faster, and faster, until it slowed down. What is that? I want to be called that!" The sphere's dialect was advanced, but to not know a simple term such as "heart" raised questions about it's intelligence.
"so you want to be named "Heart." Clock saw no reason to object, It wouldn't matter in the grand scheme of things. "And what do you want with me, Heart?", Facing the small crystal that managed to keep up with him, his blood dried along his neck, the crystal stopped abruptly.
"I want you to help me help people. Just like i helped you. I want to help people, And pass Judgement on those who wrong." Heart had spoken, and Clock had no reason not to. After all, He already lost everything in his becoming of a Disgraced. Why not help people if he could? It'd be something to do while he sorted out his life.
Gazing into a mirror, looking over his scared mask, Clockwork Jester sighed, "Fine. we'll try, but I don't think i'm fit to Judge anyone, or anything."
The voice rang back with a defeated tone, as it submerged itself into his chest once more, "Then we should focus on helping people, And judge if we must." The warmth faded down to a small candle. A light in the dark.
(Winged Lion-lizard is not a speiceis as far as i'm aware, but is a speicies with a dedicated culture, and diffrent subdevisions in it's socioty. Don't ask, idk either.)
Category Artwork (Digital) / All
Species Reptilian (Other)
Size 1280 x 1229px
File Size 176 kB
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