Information

Kurtz has a minion!

Darkness the Maere

Kurtz
Legacy Name: Kurtz

The

Nightmare Darkonite
Owner:

Asylum

Age: 14 years, 7 months, 1 week

Born: September 19th, 2009

Adopted: 14 years, 7 months, 1 week ago (Legacy)

Adopted: September 19th, 2009 (Legacy)

Nominate Pet for Spotlight

Statistics

Level: 9
Strength: 18
Defense: 16
Speed: 17
Health: 18
HP: 18/18
Intelligence: 6
Books Read: 6
Food Eaten: 0
Job: Beach Comber

"'I had immense plans,'
he muttered irresolutely.
'Yes,' said I; 'but if you try to
shout I'll smash your head
with--' There was not a stick or
a stone near.
'I will throttle you for good,'
I corrected myself.
'I was on the threshold of
great things,' he pleaded,
in a voice of longing, with
a wistfulness of tone that
made my blood run cold.
'And now for this stupid
scoundrel--'

'Your success in Europe is
assured in any case,' I
affirmed, steadily. I did not
want to have the throttling of
him, you understand--and
indeed it would have been
very little use for any
practical purpose.
I tried to break the spell--
the heavy, mute spell of
the wilderness--that
seemed to draw him to
its pitiless breast by the
awakening of forgotten
and brutal instincts, by
the memory of gratified
and monstrous passions.
This alone, I was convinced,
had driven him out to the
edge of the forest, to the
bush, towards the gleam of
fires, the throb of drums,
the drone of weird
incantations; this alone had
beguiled his unlawful soul
beyond the bounds of
permitted aspirations.

And, don't you see, the
terror of the position was
not in being knocked on the
head--though I had a very
lively sense of that danger
too--but in this,
that I had to deal with a
being to whom I could not
appeal in the name of
anything high or low.
I had, even, to invoke him--
himself his own exalted and
incredible degradation.
There was nothing either
above or below him, and
I knew it. He had kicked
himself loose of the earth.
Confound the man!
he had kicked the very earth
to pieces.
He was alone, and I before
him did not know whether I
stood on the ground or
floated in the air.

I've been telling you what
we said--repeating the
phrases we pronounced,--
but what's the good?
They were common everyday
words,--the familiar, vague
sounds exchanged on every
waking day of life.
But what of that?
They had behind them, to my
mind, the terrific suggestiveness
of words heard in dreams,
of phrases spoken in
nightmares.

Soul!
If anybody had ever struggled
with a soul, I am the man.
And I wasn't arguing with a
lunatic either.
Believe me or not, his
intelligence was perfectly clear--
concentrated, it is true, upon
himself with horrible intensity,
yet clear; and therein was my
only chance--barring, of
course, the killing him there
and then, which wasn't so
good, on account of
unavoidable noise.
But his soul was mad.
Being alone in the wilderness,
it had looked within itself, and,
by heavens! I tell you, it had
gone mad.
I had--for my sins, I suppose--
to go through the ordeal of
looking into it myself.
No eloquence could have been
so withering to one's belief in
mankind as his final burst
of sincerity.

He struggled with himself, too.
I saw it,--I heard it.
I saw the inconceivable
mystery of a soul that knew
no restraint, no faith, and
no fear, yet struggling blindly
with itself.
I kept my head pretty well;
but when I had him at last
stretched on the couch,
I wiped my forehead,
while my legs shook under me
as though I had carried half a
ton on my back down that hill.
And yet I had only supported
him, his bony arm clasped
round my neck--and he was
not much heavier than a child."

'Heart of Darkness' By Joseph Conrad