Drunken Fool

Praise be unto him, he who has defied the Devil's awakening with the psalms of lore. Songs of luxurious benevolence that would cause one to enter a trance; spirit-lifting hymns capable to cause the mind to divert from its current placement within the physical realm. All would seem like an illusion, and the world would hold no significance. 'Twas the beauty in the spiritual chanteys of the Ascended. Yet, he does not welcome the worship of those who are unknowing; people who have yet to discover the unknown don't have the authority to perform such a praise! He doesn't see himself as an iconic idol among humanity, instead, he sees himself as a Drunken Fool. He sought out luminescence and was greeted with angst at the Gods of the Herald. 'Tis all he wished for--to be acknowledged by those who stand above him. And now, a wondrous mind guides him to an unknown region.

He had been given false recognition for a feat not attainable by his own power; misguided acknowledgement was tossed upon him as the achievement had been given. O, how the misplaced commencement tormented his very soul! Such an act is what caused the Advisor, Cronus Tsukimi, to resort to less ethical means. He fell to the nurturing embrace of a bottle; he descended so far psychologically that he began to succumb to the Devil's succulent nipple. Oddly enough, this was all solely from unrighteous praise given to man, when it should've been given to a God.

Leather soles rapidly collided with the luscious grassland that overlapped earthly crust as droplets of intoxicating ale dripped onto the ground. Venomous was the liquid sloshing within the wooden container; the hour-glass shaped wooden contraption held the poison of humanity! Tattered clothing cascaded the traumatized males body as he stumbled further only to drop onto his knees. A quintet of harmonizing containers rested passively on his lower back--or was the harmonization just in his head? My, did Man prove to be useless as he began to succumb into the clutches of depravity. Eyes of static positioning transitioned forward to reveal their form. If one were to gaze into his eyes, one would see fogginess. A sheathed iaito passively relaxed on his back, to where its ebony hilt could be seen over his right shoulder. The malevolent's ale now coursed through the Man's veins, as a grumbling sound surfaced from the confinements of his stomach, before he was up on his feet again.

"Y--you...are..a...(hiccup!)....eh...um....PEBBLE LOVER!"

The exiled now commanded his mind, with the help of the malignant elixir. A resonant owl emanated from the sheathed steel that awaited its showcase to the world, as Cronus spoke to the pebble lover.