Post by Kefka Applicant on Apr 30, 2008 3:15:39 GMT -5
I'd like to apply for the role Kefka Palazzo of FFVI. I'd be playing him as a villain (the job title was madman, I think) I'd like to play him post-"death," but still alive if you catch my drift. I'd like to start him out amnesiac, perhaps only remembering before the Esper infusion made him go mad, and eventually having him remember. If that's not possible, I'm fine with starting him out normally. Thanks!
030. Death
Pain. Insurmountable pain. It was a sensation that Kefka almost wished he could feel in the end, as the world fell down around him. Pain that he had not felt since first the Esper’s power coursed through his veins. The unfortunate truth, Kefka found, was that his end would come at the hands of a group of maudlin idiots that did not deserve the heroic titles they would receive as their world was rebuilt. Pathetic wretches. Blithering idiots! How dare they steal his grand finale? This is not what he had planned. His demise should not have been theirs to claim. They stood for everything he hated.
And the goddesses—how dare they treat him this way?! To give him a taste of godhood, only to rip it away in the end? The nerve! It had been his plan. His triumph. He would take back the land at the end of the world. Those twisted plains were his, and those insects were going to dirty it up again! He would succeed where the Magi had failed! He had succeeded!
But it was here, at the summit of the twisted tower—deep within the rubble where his body lay broken—that Kefka had his first true taste of pain. Not since he was, well, human, had pain such as this wracked him. This was no physical pain, however. Rather, it was the pain of loss. No more would he tempt the fate of the Goddesses. No more would fear of his wrath grip the hearts of the survivors of his Ruin, gnawing the backs of their every thought. Beneath the fool’s makeup—behind the cracked smile—the former general was positively seething. They—those whom he truly hated—had taken away everything he had worked so hard for.
Yet, Kefka Palazzo would not die this day. What lay lifeless in the wreckage of the great tower was but the shell of a once-great commander of the Gesthalian Empire. Only a puppet remained. Hope; Love; Friendship; Peace—all things he had taken away. He would surely not be mourned, but with the world rebuilt and lives reclaimed, his wrath would only grow.
As the debris settled and the fires died down, he could only bide his time. He would be remembered; oh yes. They need only be reminded.
And that's it. Hope you like it. Oh, and you can contact me at keffanatic@yahoo.com. Thanks again!
030. Death
Pain. Insurmountable pain. It was a sensation that Kefka almost wished he could feel in the end, as the world fell down around him. Pain that he had not felt since first the Esper’s power coursed through his veins. The unfortunate truth, Kefka found, was that his end would come at the hands of a group of maudlin idiots that did not deserve the heroic titles they would receive as their world was rebuilt. Pathetic wretches. Blithering idiots! How dare they steal his grand finale? This is not what he had planned. His demise should not have been theirs to claim. They stood for everything he hated.
And the goddesses—how dare they treat him this way?! To give him a taste of godhood, only to rip it away in the end? The nerve! It had been his plan. His triumph. He would take back the land at the end of the world. Those twisted plains were his, and those insects were going to dirty it up again! He would succeed where the Magi had failed! He had succeeded!
But it was here, at the summit of the twisted tower—deep within the rubble where his body lay broken—that Kefka had his first true taste of pain. Not since he was, well, human, had pain such as this wracked him. This was no physical pain, however. Rather, it was the pain of loss. No more would he tempt the fate of the Goddesses. No more would fear of his wrath grip the hearts of the survivors of his Ruin, gnawing the backs of their every thought. Beneath the fool’s makeup—behind the cracked smile—the former general was positively seething. They—those whom he truly hated—had taken away everything he had worked so hard for.
Yet, Kefka Palazzo would not die this day. What lay lifeless in the wreckage of the great tower was but the shell of a once-great commander of the Gesthalian Empire. Only a puppet remained. Hope; Love; Friendship; Peace—all things he had taken away. He would surely not be mourned, but with the world rebuilt and lives reclaimed, his wrath would only grow.
As the debris settled and the fires died down, he could only bide his time. He would be remembered; oh yes. They need only be reminded.
And that's it. Hope you like it. Oh, and you can contact me at keffanatic@yahoo.com. Thanks again!