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Shin Hyakuji High School Tvtropes
The Book that is Hyakuji's Story has come to a close. However, there are still plenty of stories left to be told in the madcap Anime Universe it inhabits. As one book closes, so too does another open. Presented by veteran Hyakuji Staff Members, check out the next generation EVOLUTION of "Anything-Goes" Anime Roleplaying at Senki Academy
The Book that is Hyakuji's Story has come to a close. However, there are still plenty of stories left to be told in the madcap Anime Universe it inhabits. As one book closes, so too does another open. Presented by veteran Hyakuji Staff Members, check out the next generation EVOLUTION of "Anything-Goes" Anime Roleplaying at Senki Academy
| Libertà dalla Paura; Freedom from Fear | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Sep 29 2009, 06:40 PM (307 Views) | |
| _weila weila | Sep 29 2009, 06:40 PM Post #1 |
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Summary: “Pantaleone, you realize it, don’t you? You are a monster. It wasn’t just one man’s opinion…” “I’ve nothing to fear, for I’ve no one to fear for. I am free of guilt, and therefore there is nothing that could stop me.” “I was revisiting the feeling it brought me.” Pantaleone Romano Tore. He was born to the infamous Tore family, obviously, but they met a bitter end. There isn’t much known about Pantaleone, if one knows anything at all. His home was burned to the ground and he somehow came out of it alive. Some say he has the favor of God, other say he has the luck of the devil, and there are even those who believe Pantaleone simply set the fire himself. There are many questionable things about this man, but the boss had chosen him specifically. It was known that Pantaleone had a twin brother, at least, but nobody is sure which one is which. Neither of them left the house much, if at all. Some even say one of them was locked away in secret. The only evidence was the body thought to have been Pantaleone’s at the time, but finding him alive proved the theory of a second son that looked exactly like the other. Which one was which nobody exactly knows. It is said both held the same name. The boss had found Pantaleone shortly afterward and offered him a position among the ranks. He had begun as a sort of apprentice. It had been heard that the boy was a treasure that had to be owned. He was a natural, they said. Who is they? Well, anyone who has heard of the Tore family. |
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| _weila weila | Sep 29 2009, 06:41 PM Post #2 |
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Parte Prima: “Sir Tore.” A young man, roughly 27, gazed up at the voice at the entryway. His depthless dark eyes seemed as if they truly could suck someone’s soul from their body if they stood too close, like a black hole sucks up everything in its path. His equally dark hair, the lengths reaching roughly two inches above his shoulders, neatly combed and contrasting greatly against his pale skin. He was wearing the usual attire of a black suit, buttoned up with a white shirt beneath and a black tie. Perfectly neat white gloves covered his hands, which were fiddling aimlessly with a small pocket watch. “Yes, Conrad?” The man’s voice was entrancing; deep and melodic the way his Italian accent carried his words. The man’s tan face tensed, his eyes widening slightly as he stared at the small box playing music on Tore’s desk. “Erm, what is this you’re playing?” He asked, his eyes fixed on it as the song swept along the air like an angel’s wings. The man smiled, flashing brilliantly white teeth. Though a charming grin, it was the type that still sent numbing chills through one’s spine, like watching the face of a wolf as its lips pulled back to reveal sharpened canines and a hungry appearance. “The song is called Whisper Of Angels. The artist is Amici Forever.” He paused, raising a brow. “Do you like opera, Conrad?” Conrad didn’t speak for a moment, still transfixed by the song. He then shook his head slowly and turned his light brown eyes to the man at the desk. “Sir Tore, we took your advice to keep a close eye on Romero. It would seem your suspicions were correct: he has been slipping information to the Orphillia family.” Tore chuckled in amusement before standing and tucking the pocket watch safely back into his pocket. He then made his way to the door, his long legs carrying him quickly there. His build was not a big one at all, but rather he was thin and well defined. His high cheekbones best defined his face, besides his eyes, and the he carried himself with such an inhuman grace that it hardly seemed second nature. If one really could be bred into perfection, this man had been that one. Conrad led Tore through the long corridors, his eyes focused ahead while the younger man’s eyes roamed every inch of every hall as if he had never been here before. He held a natural curiosity in him, always looking around as if every day everything had changed so dramatically that he had to be sure to take note of all the significant changes from the day before. “In here, sir,” Conrad opened the door for Tore and gave a firm bow. Tore moved inside without a second glance at the man, his dark eyes searching for its next victim. They rested on an older man, his hair graying and his face creased with worried wrinkles. When he say Tore, his eyes widened and it looked as if he had gone ghostly pale, despite having been so darkened by years of sun and wear. “Pantaleone Tore,” The older man wheezed. Upon a closer look he had been viciously beaten, his lip swollen and bruises welling up on his bare arms. “Please, call me Panta.” Pantaleone smiled, but the older man only shivered. “Call me Romero,” the man responded cautiously. “But that would be rude,” Panta frowned, taking a seat across form Romero. They were in an utterly bare room, two men with guns standing on either side of Romero and Conrad had taken his spot behind Pantaleone. They were seated at a metal table with dark stains covering it. “Now tell me, what brings you here?” “I don’t know what you mean,” Romero sounded honest, and his voice shook with an undeniable fear. Panta frowned, his face almost sympathetic, but mostly displeased. “Romero,” he tried to reason, “Every time you lie to me that is one minute longer your family will live.” Romero’s brows furrowed, confusion written across his face. “W… What do you mean?” He asked. Sure enough keeping them alive a little longer was a good thing? “Why, my good man, did you think your family would not pay for your disobedience? They will receive the same punishment you get.” He placed his elbows onto the table, his fingers interlacing as he rested his chin atop them. He watched the man’s expression as a sickened look slowly crept across it as realization hit. “But you plan to kill me, don’t you? You…” He stopped, distraught, “What do you mean they will live a minute longer?” Panta, no more amusement on his face, sighed. “It could go two ways. One, I could confront them and give them a minute to say their prayers. Or, two: I could let them suffer for one minute before ending it.” Romero suddenly jumped from his chair. “No! You can’t! My son! My son!” The guards reached out to jerk Romero back into his chair as he kicked out, knocking the table over. Conrad had already pulled Pantaleone away. Panta, who was staring at Romero in disgust, brushed himself off. “You care more for your son than your own wife?” He scoffed. “You are like any other man.” He turned away, walking back to the door. “Kill him, and then bring his family to me.” Pantaleone’s hand stopped on the doorknob as a string of biting words left Romero’s lips. “And what happens when it’s you?! Huh?! What happens when you are the traitor?! When that accuse you of such a thing, what will you do!” His teeth clacked together as he was shoved against the wall, and then a loud bang echoed through the room. Romero fell quietly to the floor. Pantaleone opened the door and looked back, smiling again. “I’ve nothing to fear, for I’ve no one to fear for. I am free of guilt, and therefore there is nothing that could stop me.” He then walked through the door, allowing Conrad to close it behind him. |
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| _weila weila | Sep 29 2009, 06:42 PM Post #3 |
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Parte Seconda: “Whisper of Angels by Amici Forever,” came a voice from the door. Pantaleone looked up from his desk to find Conrad there, as usual. He smiled casually, almost softly. “Yes?” “Why do you like that song?” Conrad stood firmly at the door. He rarely came inside unless to retrieve something from Panta. This was how it was with most, even the boss. Pantaleone Romano Tore. He was born to the infamous Tore family, obviously, but they met a bitter end. There isn’t much known about Pantaleone, if one knows anything at all. His home was burned to the ground and he somehow came out of it alive. Some say he has the favor of God, other say he has the luck of the devil, and there are even those who believe Pantaleone simply set the fire himself. There are many questionable things about this man, but the boss had chosen him specifically. It was known that Pantaleone had a twin brother, at least, but nobody is sure which one is which. Neither of them left the house much, if at all. Some even say one of them was locked away in secret. The only evidence was the body thought to have been Pantaleone’s at the time, but finding him alive proved the theory of a second son that looked exactly like the other. Which one was which nobody exactly knows. It is said both held the same name. The boss had found Pantaleone shortly afterward and offered him a position among the ranks. He had begun as a sort of apprentice. It had been heard that the boy was a treasure that had to be owned. He was a natural, they said. Who is they? Well, anyone who has heard of the Tore family. Pantaleone tilted his head slightly, watching Conrad closely. “For its beauty, of course.” Conrad chuckled. It wasn’t at all like when Panta did it. It was rough sounding, like a man who had laughed many a time and had worn down his voice. “You say that about everything, but this is the second time I have heard this song. Normally you will only listen to something once.” Conrad frowned slightly. Panta gave a short ‘hmph’ and smiled. “I was revisiting the feeling it brought me.” “The… The feeling, sir?” Conrad raised a brow, still in the doorway. Pantaleone rose and made his way to Conrad, as was what usually would happen. “Yes. It was very unpleasant, Conrad. A man died to that song, you know.” At first Conrad appeared confused, but soon he realized what Panta had meant. He sighed and moved out of the way, allowing the men to move into the hallway together. “Well, sir Tore, the boss has given me specific orders to escort you to the meeting. He says it would be best to make sure you are well guarded even though we have met with these men many times. They still have a grudge toward you.” Pantaleone released a loud laugh. A few heads appeared from other doorways, staring with wide eyes at the underboss. “How was I supposed to know that she was his wife? She clearly came onto me, not the other way around. Though the body of a woman is extraordinary, their minds are not. They are predictable and overdramatic much of the time. They are soft, as they should be. They were never made for a man’s job.” He calmed himself quickly from his fit of laughter. “I never had any interest in taking her since that is what he was so afraid of. He is only upset that she enjoyed me more than she enjoyed her own husband.” He shrugged and his strides lengthened, leaving Conrad to hurry to catch up. They eventually reached a set of double doors. Conrad stepped ahead to open them, revealing a gorgeous common room. The furniture was antique, the painting originals and the air smelled of spices and tea; the usual smell that Pantaleone also carried around with him. It was entrancing, this scent was. It was relaxing, almost as if it were a calming sort of magic. Sure enough, its purpose was entirely to relax. “Ah! Pantaleone Romano Tore! What a pleasant surprise,” roared a rather large-set man as he stood from one of the couches, arms spread wide as if to embrace Panta. The man only gave a polite bow. “Heh, same as always. What’s wrong? Afraid I’ll crush you?” He gave a booming laugh, his entire body shaking. “I’ve no fear of such a thing, sir De Luca.” He responded politely and with grace, moving himself around the man to sit opposite of his previous seating. “Indeed. You fear nothing, isn’t that right? Your boss brags about you constantly. You’d think you were his own son!” De Luca sat down with a huff, the wood groaning under the weight. “You don’t say?” Panta smiled that devilish smile of his. De Luca nearly choked, but on what is a mystery. He suddenly became more serious, looking Pantaleone in the eyes. “We have a hostage situation, Pantaleone,” his voice was low and cautious, as if he were treading on thin ice and even sound could send it shattering. “Figo,” Pantaleone’s smile brightened to something more childish. The word ‘figo’ in Italian could be translated as ‘cool’ into the English language. It was a very unfitting response, but this was Pantaleone after all. “You don’t seem to understand, Tore.” “Oh, I see you’ve change to my last name, now. I suppose you are quite serious.” Panta’s eyes gave De Luca all the focus, his expression attentive. “We have a hostage situation.” Behind him his two guards moved aside, allowing someone else to step in from another set of doors, a man held in their grasp. The man struggled, but could not get loose. “Panta, you will pay for your actions.” “I thought we were here to discuss financial aid?” Panta seemed unnerved by the situation. Conrad, on the other hand, readied a gun quickly, his eyes narrowing. “De Luca, have your men lower their weapons!” De Luca stood once more, and Panta mimicked his movement. “No. I am tired of this man continuing the way he has. He is more harm than good. And because he has no fear, I shall strip him of his position by putting his men in harms way. It would have happened sooner or later, anyway. Only destruction follows this man! He is a poison. I am doing you all a favor by ridding everyone of him.” “Then why not kill me?” “Tore!” Conrad shouted, but Pantaleone ignored him. “Why go after an innocent man? Shooting me would be much more satisfying, wouldn’t it?” De Luca eyed him as if he were a venomous snake, judging whether to swing at it or leave it be. “I’ve thought of that, and I thought it would be better to find a way to make suffer… Ah!” A loud shot rang through the air. Everyone stood frozen, wide-eyed. Pantaleone stood there with a gun of his own, the barrel pointed at the hostage. The man’s head lay back lifelessly, a wide spread splatter across the back wall. “Someone will have to clean that up. Such a shame. This was one of my favorite rooms.” Pantaleone put his gun down, examining it with his white-gloved hands. De Luca, infuriated, pulled out a small pistol and aimed it at Panta. His eyes seemed to bulge from their sockets. “Pantaleone Tore! You are a monster!” Another shot, and De Luca fell onto the coffee table. It broke under the immense and unexpected weight. Conrad moved to Panta’s side, watching De Luca’s guards. None of them moved. “The boss won’t be happy.” “I am not here to please him, necessarily, but only to protect him and his name.” Panta sneered at the bloody floor and stepped around it and back to the doors. “Get this cleaned up. And, afterward, bring me some tea and breadsticks.” “Breadsticks?” Conrad breathed, but Pantaleone had already left. He ran a hand through his dark brown hair. “Pantaleone, you realize it, don’t you? You are a monster. It wasn’t just one man’s opinion…” Pantaleone walked back to his office, humming a cheerful tune. The song was Prayer In The Night, another song by Amici Forever. |
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