Unapologetic has a minion!

Confessions the Naphal

Legacy Name: Unapologetic

The Bloodred Telenine
Owner: Rampage

Age: 7 years, 6 months, 3 weeks

Born: September 25th, 2013

Adopted: 7 years, 6 months, 3 weeks ago

Adopted: September 25th, 2013


  • Level: 1
  • Strength: 10
  • Defense: 10
  • Speed: 10
  • Health: 10
  • HP: 10/10
  • Intelligence: 0
  • Books Read: 0
  • Food Eaten: 0
  • Job: Stock Worker

He had not become a murderer by choice. No, that was a complete chance encounter. Now, the decision to continue killing… that was something else entirely.

He had become the stuff of legend. With his deep amber eyes, bloodied spines running down his back, and huge claws, it was no wonder the humans were so deathly afraid of him. And considering the fact that nothing but death and destruction followed in his wake, people had every right to be scared.

They called him many things. Demon, monster, death bringer. Hellhound. He liked that one best. Hellhound.

At this point in his life, it was hard for him to put a solid number on just how many people he had killed. But, to hear him tell it, he had never murdered anyone who didn't deserve it. And that much was true. He didn't go around killing average Joes and Janes, no no. That would be a common man's work. Those on his list were rapists, murderers, child molesters. Anyone he deemed evil. And there were so, so many he deemed evil.

He went about his business for years, completely unapologetic, killing at will, until one day when everything changed. Until one day… when he mether.

The Hellhound—as he had started referring to himself—had found a nice little forest in which to bury some fresh bodies. It was dark, remote, foggy, somewhere humans feared to tread. It was perfect. He went about his business, calmly digging the grave, when he heard rustling in the bushes. He didn't even have time to wonder who it was before she started screaming at him.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” she barked.

“Who I am is of no import,” he replied smoothly. “And as for what I’m doing, isn’t it obvious? I’m burying the body.”

“But why are you burying it HERE? Who are you to defile my hallowed grounds?”

“YOUR hallowed grounds?” he asked sarcastically. “Last I checked this was public property.”

“It is NOT. I’ve claimed this forest. It is mine and mine alone.”

“It doesn’t work that way. Now if you’ll excuse me…” He turned away from her and continued his work. Her eyes drifted from his paws to the body beside him. Well, what was left of it. Whoever this person was had been brutally murdered, mauled, and mangled beyond recognition. Only a few ragged scraps of flesh clung to the skeleton.

He couldn't make out the details, but it sounded like she was saying some sort of prayer for the man’s soul, and she watched helplessly the Hellhound tossed the remains into the pit he had dug, unceremoniously piling the dirt back on top of him to close the grave. He turned to leave without so much as a single word. “Aren’t you going to say something? Don’t you… Don’t you want to confess your sin?” she asked, hoping to see some shred of good in the creature.

“Why would I do that? Everybody knows it was me. That guy—along with everyone else I killed—got exactly what was comin’ to him,” he replied with a shrug.

“EVERYONE ELSE? Just how many people HAVE you murdered?” she asked indignantly.

“To be honest, I’ve lost count. And also I don’t care.”

I shook my head. “Are you ever going to apologize? Do you ever feel remorse?”

“I can’t ask forgiveness for something I don’t regret.”

“Why are you so… Unapologetic?”

He studied the Montre for a moment. “Why do you care?”

She explained to him who and what she was then, a creature born and bred entirely of people's Confessions, a living testament to their sins. And for a few moments, he simply marveled at her story. After a few minutes, he shook his head. “Stick around, sweetheart. One of these days I may be tempted to confess after all. Just you wait…”

And so she did. After a while, they fell into a sort of routine. He would go around killing people, and she would follow, praying for their souls and hoping that he would show some sort of remorse. Of course he never did. But it did begin to grate on him, though, having a living, breathing conscience running around.

And, if he was being honest… he was beginning to grow tired of all the killing…

Story by Rampage.

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