The Wayfarer

[Caliban]

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"Oh, fuck off." - his words were neither radiating with finesse or a characteristic sass. They were like a battering ram landing the final hit on a brick wall - breaking it down in an avalanche of rocks.

He only turned away to leave after removing his hand cannon from the holster. A proud gun whose bullet gnawed at The Gardener's crystalline form, then quieted down with a starved, dying bellow. It barely left a mark yet the message was sent: frustration. In the wake of his footsteps a foul miasma rose. An oppressive presence nested within the partially mended mind of a once innocent scientist.

Its ascension happened with a certain fluidity as it rose from the floor's microscopic cracks and scratches with The Gardener's beastly appearance at its side - a small pet to be caressed with a gentle hand. Those who knew the presence would call it 'The Watcher'. One who sees all and mimics all - a distant witness and enforcer of Harbinger's will.

It laughed with a thousand voices, and with it, The Gardener. For the provided amusement it was offered a piece of information in return. One known to its host for a long time, not yet manifested because of a simple truth: only Harbinger decides when. Smog engulfed the laboratory once more. Any fetid smell the real amalgam could imagine, it sensed, and before his crystalline shell stood Caliban. Held by the neck with a body ravaged by extensive damage, then cast aside into a bottomless pit - life drained long before. The one who did this vile deed was eerily familiar with a certain libertonian sporting an Elder's miasma.

A most abrupt wind waved this vision away, then brought another: Caliban holding his dearest, begging an almost celestial, godly being for salvation only to find out too late that no help would come. In return he would face the same fate at the end of an inconceivable weapon that hardly resembles anything made by either human or alien hands. Such dramatic end made The Watcher shed a crocodile's tear and flick away the vision before it could end, only to let a third take shape. This one was more real than the others, and so much simpler. Almost as if it were an ideal dream.

Caliban stood tall, smiling at Sho'zak's gentler form with a gun raised against her small, fragile skull. A bright flash painted the wall behind with her insides, thus ending a story before it even began. Behind the merc stood a beast most vile - Gardener himself. Claws digging deep into Caliban's circuitry, tearing in his torso and enraged by a fate stripped away. A fiendish bellow shook the cave to its core while a humble witness stood in the distance, accepting oblivion knowing that they can finally close this book and join the void with a smile on their face.

"As a drowning man loves the sea."

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"Test the sharpness of your sword against another. And when that is not enough, unsheathe your cunning as the hidden dagger that ends the fight."

Prospero's Folly - - - Character Information