A Shaman's Flame-Scarred Past

[Gus]

Gus: Part 1: Rebirth/A Charred Coffin

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The girl's tears ran down her face, mingling with blood and dirt before it dripped off onto the pavement below. The bruises on her face were old, but the cut along her cheek was new. A boy crouched down beside her. "Don't worry. He won't do it again. I won't let him. I... I'll protect you with my life." Her eyes brightened a bit, and a faint smile crept onto her face. "Thank you Gus."

He sat on his bed, looking sad. He wanted to protect her, but how? Dammit! He had these powers, and he couldn't even use them to help her. All the spirits he'd managed to assemble, mostly the ghosts of small forest animals, weren't strong enough to be much good. They wouldn't be able to teach the lesson he wanted them to. He wanted to kill that son of a bitch for mistreating her, but he couldn't. He was too weak. What he needed, he decided, was a stronger ghost. As if in answer to that thought, a voice whispered in his ear. "Could I perhaps be of service?" Gus looked around, and saw him. Right next to him on the bed was the spirit of a man. His long red hair hung down over his bare shoulders. His muscular chest was tatooed with yellow-red tounges of flame. His long legs were covered by pants made out of what appeared to be a deerskin. He radiated an aura of incredible strength. Gus considered, then nodded.

He held her hand faintly as they walked into the house. His freind greeted them at the door. "Hey! Welcome to the party!" Gus brushed past. He saw him immediately. Standing across the room, his loose black shirt down to his knees, staring back at him. The boy walked over, saw her. "What the hell were you doing the other day? You wouldn't answer my calls!" She muttered something, and he raised his fist. Gus was consumed with rage. The red haired man appeared beside him. "Now?" "Yes." Gus took a deep breath, then smiled demonically. "Loki, oversoul with my body!" He felt the heat, then lost himself.

He awoke outside the burning house. The paramedic covered his eyes, but he still saw. Her blackened body, zipped into a long bag. Rows of similar bags near her. The paramedic spoke. "You musta passed out in the right place at the right time. You're... the only one who survived." Gus bit back tears. "How did the fire start?" She sighed. "Gas leak, probably." He fell back, crying. Why had they died? He had lived, likely having been protected by the oversoul when he fainted. The only mark on him were the brutal burns all over his chest and arms. Why? He sank into a sleep haunted by nightmares.

Three years later. On the way to Patch village. At a restaraunt in a small town nearby. He sits in shock as the girl speaks. "You have a darkness in your heart..." It all comes back. He was oversouled. He held the boys limp body in his arms as the flames consumed him. He laughed and lauged, as the fire emenating from his very body ate et the flesh of those he held dear. He killed them. Sitting in the restaraunt, he was in shock. He knew she was right, but he couldn't believe her. He ran away, howling with terror.

The flames had devoured his conscience. As much as the spirit had provided the power, hehad provided the anger. He tried to cover up by acting funny and carefree, but he knew. Their deaths were on him. And if he couldn't win the tournament, couldn't bring them back...

The flames would consume his soul, as well.

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((OOC: Muahahaha! Finally, my back story in all it's entirety! Read it and be warned, as I hope to use it in my first match.))

[Gus]

Gus: Part 2: Funeral for a Movement/Death of a Legend

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((I'm bored, so I'm writing a back story for Kazad, too. I realize I haven't used him much, but he's actually the main character of an RPGmaker game my freind & I made, and I really thought his back story'd be useful ta know fer when he actually gets into my storyline head-on))

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Seigblitz, New York. A large city originally settled by German immigrants in the mid 1800's. Pollution has since darkened the skies, bringing with it torrents of acid rain. The darkness has made it ideal for crime, and organized crime is thus very abundant.

The theatre was suddenly lit up with machine gun fire. Veiwers flew from their seats to lie bleeding in the aisles. Edric Deadrose put down his gun and smiled through his cigarette. That'll teach them to watch the movie. Despite it's animated appearance, it still held secrets that the Deadrose family didn't want let out.

In the streets, panic raged. The Deadrose-McKensie alliance had begun a gang war unlike any ever seen. In an old abandoned apartment, Kazad MacCool grimaced to see what his film had caused. In a church nearby, Alphonso Degoria was being baptised intop the church of the Holy Spook, a homicidal cult that believed it was "purging the city of crimes, and those who commit them." Immediately after, he gunned down five Deadrose men, bringing the "Church" into the war too, on Kazad's side.

The tall Chinese man grimaced in pain as he took a gunshot in the back. "Go..." Kazad ran without a backwards look. They were on him. Then he stopped. Turned around. "Best go out trying, at least. Be remembered as best you can, eh?" Machine gun fire split the silence of the darkened day. His knife flashing, he slashed open dozens of necks, chests and backs. But they continued shelling him. He stood out for an hour, that skinny little man taking thousands of rounds of bullets in his bloodlust, before he fell. Lying in a pool of blood, laughing and quite insane, Kazad MacCool breathed his last. As he died, a soft rain began falling. The acidic drops melted away his flesh, and, within a week, there was nothing left.

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The badly-burned boy lay in the hospital, sketchpad in hand. Suddenly, his pen begandrawing by itself. When the marvelous picture it created was done, a signature appeared at the bottom. Kazad MacCool. The boy grinned. Finally, a real ghost to team up with...