It was the look in his eyes--that realization of absolute betrayal. The same eyes that he would soon begin licking without control; an instinctual habit of his new self: a frog.
In his human life he was a kind and gentle person. He was pure of heart and completely incorruptible. No one could make him a lesser man, not even Diablo himself; a quality I certainly lacked. But, most of all, he was my dearest friend.
Such details are becoming ever more difficult to recall. My precious memories of him and our friendship are being consumed by a growing darkness. His face is drowned in visions of blood and death; his voice by screams of hate and despair. A plague is destroying what's left of my humanity. I hardly feel remorse for the countless innocents I have slaughtered.
My bloodlust was at a peak when he uncovered the mass grave in my basement. He should have reported me at once or, better yet, have run me through that very moment. But he was a loyal friend to the end, even though he knew my former self was almost completely defiled by the Lord of Terror. He wanted to help me. What a damn fool...
I was to kill him as well, and I would have, but something inside of me still remained human enough to spare him. I couldn't let him reveal my secret, the Master would surely have ended my life in a most tortuous manner. He was pleading with me, begging that I stop the madness and let him help me. I cannot remember his exact words any more, just that I repeated "I can't... I CAN'T!"
I convinced myself that an eternal hex would be a merciful alternative to death. I think I may have been wrong. There is no hope of a princess relieving his curse with mending lips, no magic remedy. Such fantasies are only in children's tales. The best he can hope for is to avoid a kitchen.
As I looked at him one last time I realized I could not even remember his name. A flash of a memory from our childhood about a cat named Binkles crossed my mind. "Binkles," I thought. "Maybe that is your name." It is hardly a concern to me, now. My secret is safe and I can continue the dark Lord's plan.
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- jasonpiano25
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In his human life he was a kind and gentle person. He was pure of heart and completely incorruptible. No one could make him a lesser man, not even Diablo himself; a quality I certainly lacked. But, most of all, he was my dearest friend.
Such details are becoming ever more difficult to recall. My precious memories of him and our friendship are being consumed by a growing darkness. His face is drowned in visions of blood and death; his voice by screams of hate and despair. A plague is destroying what's left of my humanity. I hardly feel remorse for the countless innocents I have slaughtered.
My bloodlust was at a peak when he uncovered the mass grave in my basement. He should have reported me at once or, better yet, have run me through that very moment. But he was a loyal friend to the end, even though he knew my former self was almost completely defiled by the Lord of Terror. He wanted to help me. What a damn fool...
I was to kill him as well, and I would have, but something inside of me still remained human enough to spare him. I couldn't let him reveal my secret, the Master would surely have ended my life in a most tortuous manner. He was pleading with me, begging that I stop the madness and let him help me. I cannot remember his exact words any more, just that I repeated "I can't... I CAN'T!"
I convinced myself that an eternal hex would be a merciful alternative to death. I think I may have been wrong. There is no hope of a princess relieving his curse with mending lips, no magic remedy. Such fantasies are only in children's tales. The best he can hope for is to avoid a kitchen.
As I looked at him one last time I realized I could not even remember his name. A flash of a memory from our childhood about a cat named Binkles crossed my mind. "Binkles," I thought. "Maybe that is your name." It is hardly a concern to me, now. My secret is safe and I can continue the dark Lord's plan.
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