I was never created to... what could you call it?
There is a word I'm grasping for... I'm not sure what it is. Perhaps the word is... kill? Ah, yes, that's a brilliant choice. I haven't heard that word in... quite a while actually. I am part of the Tribe of Darkness. We are... beings, that thrive on the outskirts of life. Not heard, not seen. We just lived. Creatures of the Dark, yes?
My mother passed away precisely six-hundred and sixty six minutes after I was born. Incredible, right? Some called me the devil-child. Haha... how right they were.
My father just so happened to be the leader of the tribe. He refused to hear me go by such names... and executed anyone on the spot that dared try to ridicule me. I was in... a safe position, so to speak. I stayed in the spacious hut my family called home. The loss of my mother deeply affected my father... but he never took it out on me. How strange. He cared for me and watched over me dearly. He got me an education in the tribe, and signed me up to become a warrior.
I grew up to be a nice young Tribeman. And when I reached the ripe age of eighteen, all of that schooling and warrior technique really worked out. I joined the legion of the Tribe of Darkness, an honour not many got to achieve. In fact, I was the youngest Tribeman to join the legion. Impressive, no?
What did I (or perhaps we is a better word) do in the legion? Well, there was always guarding the barriers which concealed us from mortal sight, or patrolling the Tribe grounds, but there was something much more exciting, oh yes. You see, magic is such a wonderful thing. But magic as strong as a dark barrier that was as strong as titanium and could render all inside it invisible? Some sacrifices obviously had to be made.
In your mortal world, perhaps you have heard of one named "brandobrawl." (What a queer name, yet mine is as well) He enjoys many animations (perhaps you would call them "animes"), indeed he does. And there is this one quote from his favourite one that I do love so dearly... "To obtain, one must give up something in return." What a beautiful statement.
Oh, you challenge this? Well let's think. For example, Johnny's mother made him breakfast in the morning. He didn't have to give up anything to obtain it, right? Ah, young person, here is where things turn. Johnny sacrificed his mother's energy. Isn't that beautiful? His poor mother had to make everything for him while he perhaps slept. A sacrifice had been made.
So now, before I digress about mothers, let's snap back on topic, shall we? Ah, the barrier. Something so strong, so dark, so energetic. What thing could be so powerful and have such a sacrificial value that could power this? It's a... heheh... soulful question to think about, right? I bet your...heh... DYING to know the answer?
Yes, ladies and gentlemen! The power of the magnificent Darke Barrier! Human flesh and bones!
Ah, what a scary prospect isn't it? How can you not tell standing right behind you know is someone from my tribe... murky purple hands with elongated fingers, stretching out oh so quietly, oh so painfully as he sneaks towards you... He can SMELL the vibrant life running through your veins, your soul's power radiating as strongly as the rays of the sun on a hot, summer day. Take a good look behind yourself right now. Are there any ways someone could sneak in? No? Good. Carrying on...
I was, admittedly, the best at this job. Are you disgusted yet? Oh, how I just loved the thrill of the kill! How my ink blood roars through my ears, searing them with unforgivable heat, as I wring my strong hands around the human's throat! And as he whimpers in surprise and makes that delectable choking sound, as the colour drains out of his face... and the life which once gushed throughout his frame... leaves. Just like that.
I do hope you aren't reading this at some late time of day. We Tribesmen... tend to like the later times of the day to attack, so if you're going to pass, perhaps passing not in fear would be better, mm? Heheh... don't shrug me off lightly... I mean every word I say.
So how did we do it? Oh, we aren't stupid! We weren't like that idiotic Koopa King... what was his name again? Bowser... was it...? I think so. Either way, no, we didn't just march into the human dimension, declaring our presence in utmost triumphancy. No... we were cunning. And stealthy. There was a saying once... for every Tribesman, ten fold humans were killed annually. Seems like much, doesn't it?
So how did we sneak in? We disguised ourselves... as one of you! No, we didn't have that much time to, say, pretend to be your dad and then kill you after a while. No, that would take far too long... We became anyone we wanted. Think. Was that nice new boy at school one of us? Perhaps that poor-looking old lady crossing the street the other day. Were we that old hobo eying you with utmost intensity, but instead of change, we sought your blood? Think hard... I am giving you life advice.
And, let me guess your next question, how did we transform into a human? Ah, excellent question. Our elders invented a room... they called it... the Burner Room. (It would become something called Dimension D in the future, used for multiplying power instead of transfomation, but that's another story...) The burner room was filled with flame towers. Hence the name, obviously. All one had to do to transform was get from one side of the room... to the other. It was filled with flame towers just in case any... unwanted specimens got in, heheh.
Okay, let's keep this guessing game going, how do us Tribesmen get from one side of the room to the other? Ah, we were all gifted something from factorypeople at the Tribe. (To each person their job, you know!) It's called a Cloak of Protectione. With it... we are completely invulnerable! Do you see how uncomprimisable your situation is! You can't even lay a finger on is, even with your guns and your technology! We are invincible!
Until that one day.
That one, short day, where EVERYTHING went upside-down. It was... all her fault.
But I shall not bore you with the details. Here ends my incredibly short monologue. And, ah, I found the word...
I was never created to love.
-Blumiere