[i][color=B0C4DE]

I promised that I would lead my brethren, protecting them from the outside world, yet I had failed. It seems that what I hope, that the decency and chivalry that our Father has will be somewhere in the Older Ones, yet we underestimated his anger toward the Father. His actions are like those barbarian during the dawn of human race, brutal and uncivilized. He is like Fenrir or Jormungand, the great beasts. I had never seen such brutal that a man could unleash upon his blood like that. The things he said during his torture with Athena make me wished to be deaf. The views I see when the Beast beheaded and joking around him make me wish to be blind. What we saw in that message made us dumbstruck. And his actions upon them were unacceptable. Where is the un-painful death in it, when others are being tortured just to make others laugh? What is dignity, when he murdered…”
In the place, where several longhouses are built around, there is a man in his mid sixty writing in the light casting from the nearby camping fire. He has an eye patch on one side, and another is a murky one. His hands in wrinkled, constantly shaking as he seems to no longer able to write as if this is his final words to those in the other longhouses. Then, snow began to fall from the darkening skies above, covering the ground with its spectacular snowflakes. And the man continued to write, disregard about his surrounding, about the fact that he only wears a robe that is covering him. Yet, he continued to write, on that unknown book with its paper made from an unknown beast’s skin. 
“He is the embodiment of rage of the Father, just like the Father himself used to be with other of his race. And being one of the oldest, I knew how the Beast coming into existence.” 
The old man raising his head from the book, trying to remember the memories that seem so distance for him. How long since the Father had told him the story? One, two hundred, or three thousand? The old man’s eyebrows began to burrow as he desperately tried to remember everything. It seems so distant, he knew. So absurd, he recognizes. But, writing it down is the only way he could to remember this, to remember the origin of the Murder. 
“It was a rainy day, Father said. He said on that day, the wind howled like a wolf, and the sound of thunders pierced through the dark cloudy night. And He was in his room, drawing image about the life that used to be. The rain fall through the unclosed windows, wetting the floor that He is sitting on, but our Father was not afraid of the rain nor the thunder. The sound of the floor cracking as the house withstanding the fierce storm. Yet, our Father’s eye has remained on his task, painting the picture with his crayons.” 
The man lifts his head from the books again as he tries to patch in the broken pieces of his memory. Truly, the man thinks to himself; his memory had not been so good after knowing the death of his brothers and sisters. Yet, he must continue as he knew if he stops now, others might not know the origin of this Beast. Massaging both sides of his temple, the man made sure to replace his ink and quill before continued to write. 
“And then, there was a sudden blow coming down from the bottom of the house. The house of an Alpha Male rumbling something at the back of his mouth. And he went the second floor, where our Father is doing his task. The image that he draws had now become more clear, with a man holding women which they both laid their eyes on the smallest individual of the house. And then, the door opened wide, ramming against the green wooden wall. And Father felt something hitting him hard from the side of his head, sending him to fly off from his previous painting. His visions became red and a buzzing sound continuously ringing at the back of his mind. And this is where our Oldest Brother comes forth. With each tear that our Father shed is a column of rage arise. And each strike that He received from the Alpha Male, the thing inside begin to beat. And then there was nothing. 
The man had now shifted his gaze from the book that he had been written on for days to the darkening skies. The snow that had flow for at least several hours, had now covered their tracks, blocking any way of scouting them by normal means. The man began to think how this snow storm is to the history of the Beast. They both happened suddenly, and end it with one side to disappear. Father said when he regained his conscious, the Alpha Male had already laid dead with a pin pong ball size at the back of his head. Nearby the body is thousands of pieces of glass. And blood flow from the back of the man head, soaking the floor with a fishy smell, only to be washed away by the endless rain. And then, our Father found him, the First. He was much different from how he looks today. And back then, he is named after something else, something that even our Father does not wish to repeat. 
The old man stopped, looking at his product. The past of the Beast bares too many secrets and questions that could only be answered by him. But the old man shook his head to both sides as he realizes the answers that he seeks will be paid by the blood of those who he loves the most. Slowly arising from his seat, the old man walks back to his longhouse, letting the flame to die in the blizzard.[/color][/i]
[hr]
Meanwhile, outside
[color=DC143C]
“Wow, Mr. Police. I had never realized you prefer bondage and perverted stuff like this. But, although I'm insane, I'm very sure that I do not prefer same sex.” [/color] Oedipus shakes his head to both sides, displaying his fake irritation about the current situation while arising from his sitting position.[color=DC143C]
“How about you let miss Anni to hold the rope and I promised to remain silent for the rest of the journey from here to the Magician?” [/color]And the crow grinned, saying in its hideous voice. [color=DC143C]
“I promised I wouldn't escape.”[/color]
[@Etranger][@TaroAndSelia]