User:Sanguinary Artiste: Difference between revisions
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== The Crimson Painter == | == The Crimson Painter == | ||
''The study is warm, a roaring fire blazes in the hearth. A man lounges in a brown leather chair near the fire, sipping a glass full of an opaque red liquid you hope is some strange wine. He wears a bizarre looking suit stitched together from pieces of metal, leather, and fabrics. It appears to have a rust-brown color which could be a strange paint or dried blood. The other, dark red stains covering it lead you to believe it is the latter. His chocolate-brown hair is neatly combed back and his face is covered by a strange-looking mask. It covers everything but his eyes and seems to be made of a strange type of leather. His hard blue eyes appraise you coldly at first, but they soften after a moment and he speaks.'' | |||
But enough of that. Let's talk. I suppose you're wondering just who the hell I think I am, going around carving people up like I do. I'm a simple painter, trying to make his way in this drab little town. There's so little demand for art in this fast-paced, murderous world. | Good evening. Sit down, have some... wine... Yes, of course, it's wine... Delicious red wine. It's so wonderful to see you, alive and well, with that healthy heart pumping all that exquisite blood through those arteries. You have very good veins, has anyone ever told you that? Wonderful veins for pumping all that warm, beautiful blood. | ||
But enough of that. Let's talk. I suppose you're wondering just who the hell I think I am, going around carving people up like I do. I'm a simple painter, trying to make his way in this drab little town. There's so little demand for art in this fast-paced, murderous world. A brilliant artist like myself is hard-pressed for a creative outlet, but oh, have I found one. | |||
I was not always the Sanguinary Artiste; once I was an idealist, a young student of the arts. My name was... Oh dear, I can't seem to remember it for the life of me. It's been lost with that way of life. It's a dead part of me. ''That'' me would have made a fine victim, so young and sharp. Ready to take on the world. | |||
But he is dead now. He began as a painter, dabbling in expressive and abstract painting. He was obsessed with the color red, with its gorgeous lustre. It was the color of passion, vitae, and of the anima. He tried to capture the essence of humanity in paint. People were awestruck, dazzled by his work. He accepted their praise stoically and cursed them in private. How ''dare'' they patronize him that way? He tried harder and harder, sliding deeper into madness. | |||
Then he found it. He found the Sanguine Art. He found me. He donned the mask, and began to study the essence of life. Human vitae, the anima. He would find a way to capture the beauty of life and death. | |||
---- | ---- | ||
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== My Art == | == My Art == | ||
I'm doing a public service, brightening Malton with my beautiful art. I only work in one color, gorgeous sanguine red. And I don't use a brush, I use this. Gorgeous, isn't it? A lovely titanium blade and a stately mahogany handle make this axe my tool of choice. I keep it razor sharp, of course. It needs to make exactly the cuts I want it to, after all. | :''I walk the streets with an axe in my hand | ||
:''warrior of the soul, a knight of the will | |||
:''Giving sanguine wine to an all-too-thirsty land | |||
:''Keeper of the old ways, lover of the kill | |||
:''I walk the empty city with my axe in hand | |||
:''slayer of complacency, eater of the grey | |||
:''My bloody passion forever stains this dying land. | |||
:''in dying, we realize the meaning of our lives. | |||
:''I walk the cold, dead road with my axe in hand | |||
:''my heart is full, my eyes can drink no more. | |||
:''Bringing sweet crimson relief to a parched land. | |||
:''My mind is drunk with passion, stuffed with blood. | |||
:''No one told me to spit it out; I drank all the wine. | |||
:''I cannot rest until they have learned thr truth. | |||
:''No one told me to simply taste; I drank all the wine. | |||
:''Life is not a social event, it is so much more. | |||
:''The boy who died, he wished for me to fight. | |||
:''The boy was me, I killed him for his dreams. | |||
:''The boy who died, he brought me to the light. | |||
:''My heart is hungry, my eyes must drink again.'' | |||
I'm doing a public service, brightening Malton with my beautiful art. I only work in one color, gorgeous sanguine red. And I don't use a brush, I use this. Gorgeous, isn't it? A lovely titanium blade and a stately mahogany handle make this axe my tool of choice. I keep it razor sharp, of course. The balance is absolutely perfect; I've never seen better. It needs to make exactly the cuts I want it to, after all. It simply won't ''do'' for me to make sloppy strikes. My public expects better of me. It's a gorgeous weapon. It can cleave your throat like a celery stick, split your skull like a rotting melon. | |||
Oh sit down, I'm not going to use it on you.... Yet. I'm enjoying our lovely conversation. Now, there's a little something to my art. I don't just hack any random stranger to pieces. Well, I did in the old days, but nowadays, I choose my targets more carefully. I target the strong, the brave, those who are really ''alive''. A death means nothing when your victim wasn't alive to begin with. It's worth a little extra struggle for a beautiful death. | Oh sit down, I'm not going to use it on you.... Yet. I'm enjoying our lovely conversation. Now, there's a little something to my art. I don't just hack any random stranger to pieces. Well, I did in the old days, but nowadays, I choose my targets more carefully. I target the strong, the brave, those who are really ''alive''. A death means nothing when your victim wasn't alive to begin with. It's worth a little extra struggle for a beautiful death. | ||
There's truly nothing like the dance of a hemorrhaging victim thrashing around. The only music I need is the wet ''thwack'' of my axe punching into their flesh, the sick ''crunch'' of splitting | There's truly nothing like the dance of a hemorrhaging victim thrashing around. The only music I need is the wet ''thwack'' of my axe punching into their flesh, the sick ''crunch'' of splitting bones. So many people need to slow down and enjoy the little things in life. Have you ever watched blood drip from a dead man's wounds? Watch it pool on the ground and slowly dry. It's a wonderful thing. Ah, but I'm rambling, forgive me. Are you enjoying the wine? Yes it has an unusual texture. Sort of salty. I love it. | ||
---- | ---- | ||
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Have you been a victim of my art? Do you demand satisfaction? An apology? How do you think ''I'' feel? I make you into a gorgeous painting and you get all huffy. Unacceptable. Do I ask anything of you? Do I demand thanks, or payment, or much-needed publicity? No. I do it as a service to you good people, and in return, I'm villainized. Yet, I carry on. | Have you been a victim of my art? Do you demand satisfaction? An apology? How do you think ''I'' feel? I make you into a gorgeous painting and you get all huffy. Unacceptable. Do I ask anything of you? Do I demand thanks, or payment, or much-needed publicity? No. I do it as a service to you good people, and in return, I'm villainized. Yet, I carry on. | ||
Think about it this way. My artwork is beautiful, rich, and thought-provoking. Could you have hoped to be ''any'' of those things without my help? You're welcome. In a way, murdering you raises your value to a point you never would have seen without my assistance. Of course, I'm speaking hypothetically, you're my guest. I would ''never'' be so inhospitable as to attack you in my home. How vulgar that would be. | |||
If you are absolutely insatiable in your ingratitude, seek me out. By way of apology, I'll make you into a beautiful painting again and again out of the goodness of my heart. And if you can, ''please'' paint with my blood. I've been a painting before. It was an exquisite experience. Don't worry, I'll be happy to return the favor. | If you are absolutely insatiable in your ingratitude, seek me out. By way of apology, I'll make you into a beautiful painting again and again out of the goodness of my heart. And if you can, ''please'' paint with my blood. I've been a painting before. It was an exquisite experience. Don't worry, I'll be happy to return the favor. | ||
Now, I'm feeling rather sporting today, so I'll give you a head start. Once you get out my door, I shall give you a full five minutes before I pursue you. I shall finish my wine, and the chase shall be on. When I catch you, I will make you a masterpiece! What? Of course there's another option. You could ask me to take you back to the parlor and we could work there. How does that sound? | |||
---- | ---- | ||
Line 28: | Line 60: | ||
These are my lovely pieces. I have killed quite a few more than this, but this is what I publicly claim credit for. | These are my lovely pieces. I have killed quite a few more than this, but this is what I publicly claim credit for. | ||
# | # Lord Evans[http://s607.photobucket.com/albums/tt152/Sanguinary_Artiste/?action=view¤t=Firstkill.jpg] | ||
# Chad Hussey[http://s607.photobucket.com/albums/tt152/Sanguinary_Artiste/?action=view¤t=2nd.jpg] | |||
# Elias Taylor[http://s607.photobucket.com/albums/tt152/Sanguinary_Artiste/?action=view¤t=003.jpg] | |||
# Daniel Winter[http://s607.photobucket.com/albums/tt152/Sanguinary_Artiste/?action=view¤t=004.jpg] | |||
# Brother Juniper[http://s607.photobucket.com/albums/tt152/Sanguinary_Artiste/?action=view¤t=005.jpg] | |||
# Nadaz toysoldier044[http://s607.photobucket.com/albums/tt152/Sanguinary_Artiste/?action=view¤t=006.jpg] | |||
# Danny Trjo[http://s607.photobucket.com/albums/tt152/Sanguinary_Artiste/?action=view¤t=006.jpg] | |||
# Leon Ruger [http://s607.photobucket.com/albums/tt152/Sanguinary_Artiste/?action=view¤t=008.jpg] | |||
# Skadow [http://s607.photobucket.com/albums/tt152/Sanguinary_Artiste/?action=view¤t=009.jpg] | |||
---- | |||
{{PKer}}{{Zeko}}(I was actually on my way to make a pilgrimage to the Whatmore Building when I was first made into a painting){{PKcount|user=Sanguinary Artiste|Number=26}}{{Holy Diver}}{{DrunkLevel|User=Sanguinary Artiste|Level=Completely Smashed}}{{CryMorePlease}}{{Artifact Protection Policy}} | |||
{{SacredGroundPolicy}}{{Centers of Learning Policy}}{{Noob}}{{Hope}}{{Legality|user=Sanguinary Artiste}}{{Stupidkitties}}{{Report Me}}(''please'' do. You'll make me famous!){{Junkie}}{{CFTPlayer}}{{SmallRSoM}}{{Fine Art of Malton}}{{Nuke Malton}}{{Gladiatorial Arena Policy}}{{Cop Killer}}{{Too Many Templates}}{{rhyme}}{{Gift list|Holiday=Christmas|gift=More people to murder}}{{Smartest}}{{Too Much Free Time}} | |||
---- | |||
--[[User:Sanguinary Artiste|Sanguinary Artiste]] 08:07, 26 May 2009 (BST) | |||
==Public Opinion== | |||
Blah blah, talk talk talk. Words are so meaningless. I've talked enough. Let's hear ''your'' meaningless words. Tell me what you think of my art. Pull no punches. It's the only way I'll learn. | |||
--[[User:Sanguinary Artiste|Sanguinary Artiste]] 19:30, 26 May 2009 (BST) |
Latest revision as of 03:32, 21 August 2009
The Crimson Painter
The study is warm, a roaring fire blazes in the hearth. A man lounges in a brown leather chair near the fire, sipping a glass full of an opaque red liquid you hope is some strange wine. He wears a bizarre looking suit stitched together from pieces of metal, leather, and fabrics. It appears to have a rust-brown color which could be a strange paint or dried blood. The other, dark red stains covering it lead you to believe it is the latter. His chocolate-brown hair is neatly combed back and his face is covered by a strange-looking mask. It covers everything but his eyes and seems to be made of a strange type of leather. His hard blue eyes appraise you coldly at first, but they soften after a moment and he speaks.
Good evening. Sit down, have some... wine... Yes, of course, it's wine... Delicious red wine. It's so wonderful to see you, alive and well, with that healthy heart pumping all that exquisite blood through those arteries. You have very good veins, has anyone ever told you that? Wonderful veins for pumping all that warm, beautiful blood.
But enough of that. Let's talk. I suppose you're wondering just who the hell I think I am, going around carving people up like I do. I'm a simple painter, trying to make his way in this drab little town. There's so little demand for art in this fast-paced, murderous world. A brilliant artist like myself is hard-pressed for a creative outlet, but oh, have I found one.
I was not always the Sanguinary Artiste; once I was an idealist, a young student of the arts. My name was... Oh dear, I can't seem to remember it for the life of me. It's been lost with that way of life. It's a dead part of me. That me would have made a fine victim, so young and sharp. Ready to take on the world.
But he is dead now. He began as a painter, dabbling in expressive and abstract painting. He was obsessed with the color red, with its gorgeous lustre. It was the color of passion, vitae, and of the anima. He tried to capture the essence of humanity in paint. People were awestruck, dazzled by his work. He accepted their praise stoically and cursed them in private. How dare they patronize him that way? He tried harder and harder, sliding deeper into madness.
Then he found it. He found the Sanguine Art. He found me. He donned the mask, and began to study the essence of life. Human vitae, the anima. He would find a way to capture the beauty of life and death.
My Art
- I walk the streets with an axe in my hand
- warrior of the soul, a knight of the will
- Giving sanguine wine to an all-too-thirsty land
- Keeper of the old ways, lover of the kill
- I walk the empty city with my axe in hand
- slayer of complacency, eater of the grey
- My bloody passion forever stains this dying land.
- in dying, we realize the meaning of our lives.
- I walk the cold, dead road with my axe in hand
- my heart is full, my eyes can drink no more.
- Bringing sweet crimson relief to a parched land.
- My mind is drunk with passion, stuffed with blood.
- No one told me to spit it out; I drank all the wine.
- I cannot rest until they have learned thr truth.
- No one told me to simply taste; I drank all the wine.
- Life is not a social event, it is so much more.
- The boy who died, he wished for me to fight.
- The boy was me, I killed him for his dreams.
- The boy who died, he brought me to the light.
- My heart is hungry, my eyes must drink again.
I'm doing a public service, brightening Malton with my beautiful art. I only work in one color, gorgeous sanguine red. And I don't use a brush, I use this. Gorgeous, isn't it? A lovely titanium blade and a stately mahogany handle make this axe my tool of choice. I keep it razor sharp, of course. The balance is absolutely perfect; I've never seen better. It needs to make exactly the cuts I want it to, after all. It simply won't do for me to make sloppy strikes. My public expects better of me. It's a gorgeous weapon. It can cleave your throat like a celery stick, split your skull like a rotting melon.
Oh sit down, I'm not going to use it on you.... Yet. I'm enjoying our lovely conversation. Now, there's a little something to my art. I don't just hack any random stranger to pieces. Well, I did in the old days, but nowadays, I choose my targets more carefully. I target the strong, the brave, those who are really alive. A death means nothing when your victim wasn't alive to begin with. It's worth a little extra struggle for a beautiful death.
There's truly nothing like the dance of a hemorrhaging victim thrashing around. The only music I need is the wet thwack of my axe punching into their flesh, the sick crunch of splitting bones. So many people need to slow down and enjoy the little things in life. Have you ever watched blood drip from a dead man's wounds? Watch it pool on the ground and slowly dry. It's a wonderful thing. Ah, but I'm rambling, forgive me. Are you enjoying the wine? Yes it has an unusual texture. Sort of salty. I love it.
In my Defense
Have you been a victim of my art? Do you demand satisfaction? An apology? How do you think I feel? I make you into a gorgeous painting and you get all huffy. Unacceptable. Do I ask anything of you? Do I demand thanks, or payment, or much-needed publicity? No. I do it as a service to you good people, and in return, I'm villainized. Yet, I carry on.
Think about it this way. My artwork is beautiful, rich, and thought-provoking. Could you have hoped to be any of those things without my help? You're welcome. In a way, murdering you raises your value to a point you never would have seen without my assistance. Of course, I'm speaking hypothetically, you're my guest. I would never be so inhospitable as to attack you in my home. How vulgar that would be.
If you are absolutely insatiable in your ingratitude, seek me out. By way of apology, I'll make you into a beautiful painting again and again out of the goodness of my heart. And if you can, please paint with my blood. I've been a painting before. It was an exquisite experience. Don't worry, I'll be happy to return the favor.
Now, I'm feeling rather sporting today, so I'll give you a head start. Once you get out my door, I shall give you a full five minutes before I pursue you. I shall finish my wine, and the chase shall be on. When I catch you, I will make you a masterpiece! What? Of course there's another option. You could ask me to take you back to the parlor and we could work there. How does that sound?
My Gallery
These are my lovely pieces. I have killed quite a few more than this, but this is what I publicly claim credit for.
- Lord Evans[1]
- Chad Hussey[2]
- Elias Taylor[3]
- Daniel Winter[4]
- Brother Juniper[5]
- Nadaz toysoldier044[6]
- Danny Trjo[7]
- Leon Ruger [8]
- Skadow [9]
| Player Killer |
"One kills a man, one is an assassin; one kills millions, one is a conqueror; one kills everybody, one is a god."
This user is a PKer and supports the act of Player Killing. |
Praise be to Zeko! | |
This user acknowledges the Disciples of Zeko as the founders of PKing. |
(I was actually on my way to make a pilgrimage to the Whatmore Building when I was first made into a painting)
PK Count | |
This user has PKed 26 people. |
The Last in Line | |
This user knows that Ronny James Dio is more evil and better than Ozzy Osbourne. |
Sobriety | |
Sanguinary Artiste is currently Completely Smashed |
Cry More Please | |
Aaaaawww… Does someone need a hug? What about a blankie? |
Artifact Protection Policy Supporter | |
This user or group supports the Artifact Protection Policy, acknowledging that the looting of museums is strictly prohibited. This user or group will do what they can to prevent museum theft in order to preserve Malton's cultural and intellectual integrity. |
Sacred Ground Policy Supporter | |
This user or group supports the Sacred Ground Policy and acknowledges that all Cemeteries in the city of Malton are considered Revivification Points. |
Centers Of Learning Policy Supporter | |
This user or group supports the Centers of Learning Policy & acknowledges that all libraries, schools, zoos, and museums in the city of Malton are considered safe places. No survivor in one of these locations may be killed for any reason unless that survivor is a specified enemy of this user or group. |
STFU N00B | |
This user recognizes the difference between a Newbie and a Noob. |
Dont do it. | |
Dont try to kill every zombie, you wont win. |
LEGALITY LOL | |
Sanguinary Artiste mistakenly believes they have a working grasp of the law. |
Stupid Suggestions! | |
Whenever you make a stupid Suggestion, God kills a kitten. Stop killing kittens. |
Report Me! | |
This user is an evil PKer. To punish me: report my kills on the Rogues Gallery! |
(please do. You'll make me famous!)
Template Junkies! | |
This user is a Template Junkie! |
Fair Tactics Player | |
This user has signed the Coalition for Fair Tactics Player Pledge. |
Royal Society of Malton | |
Nullius in Verba. |
Fine Art of Malton Supporter | |
This user or group supports the Fine Art of Malton movement & acknowledges that all museums are PK ceasefire zones, heal points, and are to be a barricading priority. |
Gladiatorial Arena Policy Supporter | |
This user or group supports the Gladiatorial Arena Policy & acknowledges that all stadiums in Malton are gladiatorial areas, in which the killing of another survivor is not a crime and therefore not punishable in any way. |
Kill All Pigs!!! | |
This user is a cop killer. |
Too Many Templates | |
This user puts way too many templates on their page. |
Roses are Red... | |
Violets are Blue. This user can rhyme; Don't you wish you could too? |
Christmas List | |
This user wants More people to murder for Christmas. |
I'm Smarter | |
This user is smarter than you. |
Why are you still reading these? | |
This user thinks you have way too much free time on your hands. |
--Sanguinary Artiste 08:07, 26 May 2009 (BST)
Public Opinion
Blah blah, talk talk talk. Words are so meaningless. I've talked enough. Let's hear your meaningless words. Tell me what you think of my art. Pull no punches. It's the only way I'll learn. --Sanguinary Artiste 19:30, 26 May 2009 (BST)