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[Belakor]

The OCW arena buzzes with activity as the crowd murmurs in anticipation. Suddenly, the light dims. A low  unsettling hum echoes through the speakers, growing louder as fog begins to flow onto the stage. A large figure with a scarred face, Markus Belakor. His rugged clothing and the worn duffle bag slung over his shoulder catch the light briefly before he stops at the center of the stage. His eyes sweep across the crowd, both thoughtless and erratic.

Belakor stands silently for a moment, letting the atmosphere build. Then he reaches for a microphone tucked into the side of the bag. The crowd quiets, intrigued by the new presence.

 

Belakor: You don’t know me… but you will.

 

He paces slowly, his boots thudding against the metal ramp, his voice low and deliberate.

 

Belakor: Places like this, they’re always the same at first. Full of noise, bravado, people puffing their chests like it’ll make a difference when it counts. But here…

 

He gestures toward the crowd, with a faint smirk.

 

Belakor: Here feels… different. It’s not the noise. It’s the cracks I see underneath it.

 

Belakor stops at the edge of the ramp, staring into the sea of fans as if trying to see through them. His expression is unreadable, his voice dropping to a near growl.

 

Belakor: The question isn’t if this place will break. It’s when.

 

He grips the strap of his duffle bag tightly, the knuckles of his hand turning white as he lifts the bag slightly, showing it off slightly.

 

Belakor: You probably wonder what’s in here, right? You think it’s a weapon, a statement, or maybe some token of a past I’m running from.

 

He chuckles, shaking his head as he takes a few steps forward.

 

Belakor: none of those. What’s in here? It’s a reminder of why I’m here. A reminder that sometimes…

 

He raises his head, his gaze locking with the camera, his voice sharpening

 

Belakor: Sometimes, you have to tear everything down to find what’s real.

 

The audience murmurs, some intrigued, others uneasy, as Belakor steps back into the fog. The ominous hum rises again, and the lights flicker briefly before returning to full brightness. By the time the haze clears Belakor is gone.

 

[B-17]

Ooo a spooky guy.  

[Quartz]

[Junko Jiirota]

I'm intrigued. Well written too.......so.... what's in the bag? 

[Belakor]

6 hours ago, Junko Jiirota said:

I'm intrigued. Well written too.......so.... what's in the bag? 

Can’t tell ya