Never truly gone. Always in the shadows.
A moment in Outworld.
Shang tsung: I created the ultimate enforcer.
Shao Kahn: you messed up a perfectly good soul collection is what you did.
Shao Kahn *gesturing to Ermac*: Look at it, it’s got an identity crisis and Anxiety.
A tall figure walked down the stairs of a old temple, draped of wine-red robes with the flexible material of gold. The soft click of taloned sabotons and their spurs in each fall. The enslaved Tarkatans wavering before coming down on their knees before the being, their minds suffering the venomous whispers of a seducer most dark. The falling sun of Outworld drifting as if in retreat behind the jagged mountains.
A guard caught by the grace of gilt claws, slowly drifting with a sultry gasp. Red eyes peering up to see pale suns staring down at her from its draped shroud, a thumb clicking off her teeth.
Blpt.
Blpt.
The slow fall of blood falling still from supple lips before his tongue licked it away, grazing the chiropteran teeth behind the human face. “Where is the Khanate priest?” The soft voice questioned. Words so gentle yet it strangled her mind like a closing vice. The Tarkatan shuddered, straining to the power and her vocal cords forced to serve,
“H-He’s gone. L-l-left. Mountain’s Retreat. A-aaway he said for pi-pi-pilgrimage.”
“Ah. Then I am a little late. No matter. Thank you, my sweet.” The vampyre whispered and he tapped again. Her eyes rolled into her skull, the others all falling like cut puppets and the handmaiden too crumbled at his feet. He had no desire of their blood, too much iron.
The Vampyre continued his stride, leaving behind a silent temple.
The Demon Warriors of Shang Tsung
Temur Buqa (The Iron Bull)
From the rise of the Mongolian Empire and its successive conquest of Ancient China, Temur Buqa was one of the most savage warlords under the Khanates’ campaign. Carving from province to province, killing the finer warriors he came across and left a path of carnage from the Mongolian raiders and opportunistic bandits to serve him. His glory to an abrupt end when he came to my sanctuary. That was a day a fearless man screamed.
A savage warrior in his own right, Temur Buqa was a practitioner of the Iron Body and his blows were just as fierce in the right of his name. Scarred-headed and ferocious with his twin bladed tonfas aided well into his fighting style of Iron Horse.
Nijo Muneyuki
From the Tensho Period of Japan, in the time of its constant warring between the rising daimyos in the vacuum of power and the chaos that inspire to this day, the Nijo Clan were fiefs to the prominent Date Clan. They’ve served in honour and accordance to their precious Bushido. Nijo Muneyuki was their greatest champion to date, worthy to carry the ancestors of his clan by the nobility of the carried katana - Nijo. We met on the battlefield in my study of Japan’s magical potency.
Nijo Muneyuki was a splendid swordsman. His every step measured and every strike more a death stroke than not, his blade a brush to his bloody shuji in kombat. He moved in his armour as easy as second-flesh, yet when facing an opponent just as I - gave me a vivid reminder, even the greatest can fall.
Kamru
The Seidan Rebel from the Orderrealm, Kamru was an advocate of his realm’s insufferable justice and laws but even he could see the corruption in the incandescent layers. When he couldn’t change the ironclad binds that keep his realm in its eternal bondage, that is when he found me. I whispered into his ear, guided him to the freedoms that were outside of his plane. He has been conspiring with a former priest of the Chaosrealm who also felt the madness of his native realm to be...distracting. They had battled countless times yet learned off each other until finally Kamru - in an instinctive act of morality- banished him into the Outworld. When I claimed Kamru’s soul, it was an act of mercy as much as grim satisfaction of his constant mewling of mortality.
Kamru was a warrior of distinctive mastery. An unmistakable student and master to the Seidan Martial Arts, he had a practicality to adapt into other styles and the sudden use of Chaotic maneuvers had me backstepped a couple times. He used his scaled armour as much as a shield and the mastery of the naginata unquestioned. It was almost a shame to finish him.
Skab
A denizen of Chaosrealm and former cleric of the realm’s anarchic priesthood, Skab is a being of inconceivable nature. Encountered in the tombs of a forgotten race exterminated by Shao Kahn during one of his countless konquests against the realms, the agent was preparing to raise the dead of a hundred races to avenge their murders against the Emperor. To kill him was a feat on its own. Pain had no concept to this creature. Defeat was nothing but a lesson in a longer game that I had no desire to play and I used him in many enlightening experiments before finally claiming his Soul.
Skab wasn’t...a traditional opponent that I would rather avoid encountering. His martial arts weren’t of this realm or anything orderly. It was wild, random, yet sublimely intent of a horde’s barrage. His magicks was a threat that I had to learn and take into my own arsenal, perhaps in a way - it saved my life and despite my mastery, I can still feel him. Out of the thousands of Souls I command, his is sickeningly distinctive.
Subahu
The Shokan, Shao Kahn’s favorite of his gaggle of monsters and beasts, are a distinctively fierce folk. Four-armed brutes that find themselves of brutal royalty and vicious personality, as shown fondly by the Draco like Prince Goro and the Tigrar like the Kahn’s Koliseum Champion, Kintaro. One of the latter had challenged me once, disdainful of my genius and finer mastery to the many arts of magicks. Subahu thought the purity of martial prowess was enough. I promptly educated him of such ignorance infront of his kin. His despair was delicious and that prowess is now mine to command.
Subahu was a vicious and proper archetype to his people’s great warriors; strong, fierce and cunning - to a degree. His raw strength has torn other Shokan apart and flames are remarkably fierce, to denounce his useful would be a fool’s glance. He serve so much better as my slave than a braggart under the Shokan ranks.
cryomistrss
Despite himself, Shang Tsung was in a ravine of amusement that the cyromancress actually had the thought of missing him and the desire to be warned before he was inconvenienced into another mess of the eternal game of the universe. Somewhere in his cold heart, he almost was regretful on a truly loyal acolyte.
With a reach of his hand, the sorcerer brushed his claws through Frost’s hair and kneaded on the back of her head with a precise find to the tension and pressure built in her muscles. “I wouldn’t such an ambitious young woman would miss her master so,’ he purred with the same tone and fatherly smile. ‘Forgive me for my absence, I will ensure that one of my more closer minions can warn you if I am pulled away so abruptly. There is perhaps one I can trust for it.”
“You should’ve taken me with you if you were in such a harsh situation.” Another scold was about to come from her purple lips, her anger was palpable through her words but it only sounded like a calm river when her hair was caressed by metallic claws. Her eyes pupils seemed to expand under the pressure of his fingers as if he pulled something out from her mind, but she was still alive after all. At times tends to forger the type of magic he uses.
Loneliness could kill her even if she dares to think otherwise, demons are hiding in the pure state of silence, never thought that the company of her teacher would become a necessity for her mental state. Hates his abruptness and the lack of information he’s providing, the last thing she can do right now is to hear every word that the sorcerer says. “If they’re someone I can trust as well, I’ve no issue, but please, don’t do this ever again.”
The sorcerer grinned as his claws brushed under his precious servant’s jawline, “I will do to the best of my immeasurable ability. However, this meeting isn’t about me. It is about you. You didn’t answer my question.” With a subtle brush of a tip tracing her flawless pale skin before pressing his fingertips together.
cryomistrss
It was a question he expected most of all, but it was honestly a difficult one to answer still. Shang Tsung looked out to nothing in particular. “I can be cryptic, but to be blunt, my student; When is, sadly, the appropriate. A certain someone decided to throw into the wild torrents of Time, even when she was defeated - so I outpaced her.” He said, gesturing out with a glowing glow of souls whining and howling from his gilt jar to flow into his clawed hand. “I can almost say it was maddening, but there is always souls to sacrifice for my gain. Peered into one in particular and thought to watch you for a while. Finding the affection you craved, even for this one time.” In the mild pun to amuse himself, the sorcerer chuckled with no lift of mercy on his part.
It was obvious, today there won’t be clear answers about his absence and perhaps neither tomorrow, was it something that could be so hard for her mind to grasp? Never knows when he is being benevolent and when he is acting condescending. Who was inside that jar of souls? Knew that Shang Tsung had too many enemies to spare, Frost could be considered lucky enough to not awaken his evil side.
“Not much has happened for me, but I would’ve preferred a sign, a warning, something, you left me by myself.” Is not the time to act like a child without affection, but that’s what the cryomancer was at the end of the day, someone who’s constantly craving what she can’t have -and might never posses-. “Better start thinking about how to compensate for your absence.”
Despite himself, Shang Tsung was in a ravine of amusement that the cyromancress actually had the thought of missing him and the desire to be warned before he was inconvenienced into another mess of the eternal game of the universe. Somewhere in his cold heart, he almost was regretful on a truly loyal acolyte.
With a reach of his hand, the sorcerer brushed his claws through Frost’s hair and kneaded on the back of her head with a precise find to the tension and pressure built in her muscles. “I wouldn’t such an ambitious young woman would miss her master so,’ he purred with the same tone and fatherly smile. ‘Forgive me for my absence, I will ensure that one of my more closer minions can warn you if I am pulled away so abruptly. There is perhaps one I can trust for it.”
A Visit in Time
“Enjoying the Edenian, my student?” The brushing voice teased through the eternity of time and space, the brush of primordial sand teased Frost’s cheek before her one teacher above all manifested like a pale ghost into reality’s perception. Dark-clothed with his trims of arrogant gold and dragon’s motif melding into serpent’s pride, the ancient man in his wisping crown and hands behind his back.
cryomistrss
The voice came from thin air, thought a spirit was present or her mind was finally crumbling and distorting reality around her. Noticed something brushing her cheeks like gentle air to form a vision, no, it was him emerging from the smoke and the hizzing sound, it was like hearing a snake about to poison its poor prey. What a strange form to say ‘hello’ after so long. “Where have you been all this time?” He had many questions to answer.
It was a question he expected most of all, but it was honestly a difficult one to answer still. Shang Tsung looked out to nothing in particular. “I can be cryptic, but to be blunt, my student; When is, sadly, the appropriate. A certain someone decided to throw into the wild torrents of Time, even when she was defeated - so I outpaced her.” He said, gesturing out with a glowing glow of souls whining and howling from his gilt jar to flow into his clawed hand. “I can almost say it was maddening, but there is always souls to sacrifice for my gain. Peered into one in particular and thought to watch you for a while. Finding the affection you craved, even for this one time.” In the mild pun to amuse himself, the sorcerer chuckled with no lift of mercy on his part.
A Visit in Time
“Enjoying the Edenian, my student?” The brushing voice teased through the eternity of time and space, the brush of primordial sand teased Frost’s cheek before her one teacher above all manifested like a pale ghost into reality’s perception. Dark-clothed with his trims of arrogant gold and dragon’s motif melding into serpent’s pride, the ancient man in his wisping crown and hands behind his back.
Raiden? Are you well? What? Kronika? You have dreamt deep in the Jensai, old friend. Next you’ll tell me the all of the realms were falling apart, hahah. Come, your star pupil is returning to celebrate Shao Kahn’s ultimate defeat. Grandmaster Bi Han and Hanzo Hasashi of the Lin Kuei and Shirai Ryu has been waiting to speak with you since stopping Qaun Chi’s plot to steal Shinnok’s Amulet!
Anonymous asked:
A Shiny Mimikyu scuttled along. The Ghost Pokemon paused and glanced at Shang Tsung, and wiggled its puppet-like head. The little terror-soul-in-a-costume went up to Shang Tsung, and plopped down at his feet.
The sorcerer watched the little spectre with a slight wonder; ghosts weren’t alien to his island, but they don’t last long before his hunger claim them. The only thing keeping him from outright claiming its wondering soul was small curiosity, hand resting on the slowly flaring hood of his gilt Abrok. The large serpent slowly rouse with a warning hiss with its intense red eyes staring like his master, head slowly swaying side to side in wonder of its deceptive appearance. No different from the aged man sitting in his garden.
“What brings a little soul here to me, do you wish to finally rest?”
OOC/Private: Would you like to plot anything? My sideblog has changed to the-dragons-skroll. My DMs are open too.
Heyo! Sorry I have missed your last visit, so far I don’t have anything to immediate thought but I am sure we have something. If I don’t answer or anything on DMs, I am more than likely away or brain-dead lmao
The Serpent Uncoils
Shang Tsung felt a disturbance. One that felt akin to a viper’s poisonous bite, it took a great effort to not curl into himself, his body tightening and mind felt...loose. Something has happened. Something terrible - no.
He could see it.
Liu Kang...bathed of fire and lightning, glowing of such divine power. Grinning one of ultimate victory yet eyes cold of some regretful conclusion. He was seeing through his own eyes, wavering as his own body was collapsing onto itself like sand. He lost. He was becoming nothing. Erased. Liu Kang has won.
With all the will he could muster, as the cries of himself rippled, Shang Tsung pulled himself out of this singular tempest of Nothingness or join this failed alternative. A hiss of fury and existential fear ripped from the sorcerer’s teeth, panting and coldly aware! The rules has changed. The universe was gripped by another - the Timeline was held by another Titan at least, as far as he was aware.
“Liu Kang...” His sneer was naked and venomous, Shang slowly rose from his throne with his slave-warriors standing on either side of his vermillon carpet snaked by the golden lung to the exit. At his immediate, Frost and Viorel looked at him.
“What is wrong?” The Moroi asks from the shadow of his hood, the gilt gleam of his eye staring to the sorcerer.
“We have...a change in plans.”
The Soul.
The core of one’s being. The joys. The fears. The hatreds. The loves. The memories from the moment one is born to the moment that they die.
The most precious thing to any being of this multi-realmed universe. This one spark of one life held power that few can truly comprehend nor appreciate. It is an utter shame and exotic privilege to hold into one’s hand.
My hand.
I can still hear their cries - whether submissive begging or wrathful defiance - from their shell-less forms. It brings nothing but utmost pleasure to me. Is it sadism or what I’ve become?
I don’t think of it anymore.
I am beyond it.
I am beyond the fickle hopes of man’s redemption and self-pity. I have done too much and strive for so much.
Kronika promised me the freedom of holding my own soul to my own destiny, a clever lie for a younger me. Once I was oppressed into the clawed grasp of Shao Kahn, I realized something.
To covet for favor is a gambit that will enrich you or end you. I have had both spectrums and I look upon this howling soul, I know in my heart of hearts;
I will relish holding my greatest Enemies’ souls as slaves under my power.
Anonymous asked:
You still trying to fuck sonya? Also is it true you have a kink for military girls? not that I blame you but still
Shang Tsung looked...detoured by that question. Infact, he didn't know to outright claim this inquisitive soul or not. Instead, he answered in his usual polite manner. "I have a fair respect and attraction for the esteemed General Blade for her tenacity and ferocity. Long have I disdained the disrespect that females recieved through Earthrealm's ages, now and again it was subsided depending on culture and the individuals themselves. I have been the strongest of women and their capabilities that equal any male of any realm." In these words, he declined to mention he once had a few lovers similar of Sonya Blade in his existence, and even as their beloved souls flowed through him - they were nothing but a prized memories in a life of villainous schemes.
Trying to be relevant and still around for everyone, send asks for your favourite soul-stealer!
@soulsorcererofoutworld ha dicho:🌀 - Your Sorcerer-dad
Send “🌀” to find my muse, injured and alone after being beaten up || Open
Thinking that returning to the Island seemed to be a terrible idea at first, now is an obligation to her, and in these conditions, she has no other choice. Too far from home but to close to him, it started as a stupid idea, but the trip in the boat to the Island found hardships in its way, suffering the force of nature and leaving the cryomancer in terrible conditions. Her eyes are wide open when the sorcerer finds her alone in the ship, didn’t mention that she stole it for a sole reason and regrets it now. “Hello again… I guess.” Manages to say, forcing a smile that vanishes right at the moment when her eyes suddenly shut down.
The sorcerer down at his excused cyromancer, his face an apathetic mask of curiosity. Gold-toed boots tapping on the aged wood with soft groans, the tails of his robes flowing quietly like a spectre for her. The last thing she felt was the warm touch of his fingertip, examining her wounds. The icy question that didn’t need an answer,
“Who touched you?”
