IanWiki - Darjoul Cloden

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Darjoul Cloden is a man that many believe they know. They think that they know his motivations and how to predict his actions. He can be relied on and many do. But this does not shed light on what is deep within. The dark that makes up how he works and what gives him the strength to be a master at what he does.

You wanted to look into the mind of a man that has work hard to place order into his mind, to become one of the most skilled assassins you never want to know. This is the beast he fights. This is the reason he knows no fear. He breaks the back of his fear with a rage that has cooled to a hardened diamond.

You'd never know when it was time to slow down. The clocks all lie and mock and tease and torture, hung upon the walls out of reach out of sanity, can't let it go, always carry it with me. All of the stares, the pointing, the shouting, the screaming...oh the screaming. Just let me live, let me go, let me be without these ropes, without these chains, without these bars to hold me away to keep me from you and your children, from everyone there is. I never really had anybody that could help me get this out, get this away from me and on the floor. The cold it shakes me badly, cursing, burning, melting, turning, twisting, yearing, screaming, learning, trying, squirming, bleeding, enduring, shaking, breaking, taking it all back, all away, running far away to a time when this didn't mean a thing, when this was life,when this was way, when this was breathing, panting, choking my soul away in a place where I can't see or feel or do or know or ever, forever, blinded by your light so shining heavy in my eyes too shot to see, to comprehend anything besides this place, these walls, these pads, these belts, these bolts, these tables, this metal, and iron surrounds me eternaly, never letting, never leaving, never looser than strangling her viciously, her neck under my fingers, her blood under my nails, her eyes, oh her eyes, how it took until finally then, took until finally then to truely see for the first time ever, for the first time ever she knew what it was that ran in my heart, the first time she really saw it, felt it, knew what I thought, knew what I had to say, but I said it with my anger and she replied with her death, oh she replied with her death over and over in the form of another's body and showed them all what I do, what I could make, what I could inflict, yes, inflict. They all would listen to know my anger; yes, that is it, it is the fear, the fear that drives a man do all the things he does, yes that is it, and if you are to control one's fears you can thusly control that person alone to do you minds working, plotting, calculating the ways over and over in my head to see to know.

Happy Mother's Day, Mother...

Well I have posted some of my artwork for Darjoul. take a look.

copyright (c) 2004 Ian Sheridan, all rights reserved

Player Comments

Do the scars without, reflect the scars within? Only he knows.

Talking about mysterious, molnar could take lessons here, hell this is where I found out Darjoul's last name.