"Oh shit"
Vanier laments as he realised he might have dug himself into a deeper grave. Vanier partially raises both his arms in a submissive pose.
"Hey, so Mr Jester, you should probably know that I didn't even mean anything I just said. Infact that wasn't even me!, I actually was quite recently diagnosed with bipolar syndr-
An agonizing pain swallows up Vanier left arm in between of his very truthful apology. Vanier quickly gazes towards his left arm. But he sees nothing, actually nothing, he was missing his left arm. Only remaints of the arm was the polling blood leaking out of his left shoulder.
Vanier screams loudly as he clutches his left shoulder and he falls to his knees with a dramatic thud. The Jester frown immediately turned upside down. The Jester looked at the king and pointed at screaming Vanier simultaneously and began to laugh sadistically. The Jester distorted laughs echoed throughout the room, disporting even further after each echo.
The Jester began rolling in the ground with uncontrollable laughter.
Vanier with painful eyes beared witness to this humiliating site.
'I need to find a way of here...'
But to Vanier disappointment the Jester was unintentionally blocking the exit.
'Ugh, I could hide behind the king, yeah no way the Jester will hurt the king just to get to me. Maybe if I am lucky it won't notice me and will leave.'
Vanier decides to act immediately before his window is closes. With painful breath he drags himself towards the throne, leaving a trail of blood in its wake.
Vanier hinges himself on the left side of the throne, out of sight. He accidentally slightly pushed the king's body while anchoring himself, causing the king's crown to fall on his right side.
Ting~
The laughter stoped with the clatter of the crown, in that moment Vanier's felt as if his heart was in his throat.
Vanier looked that the fallen crown with bitter hatred then followed by a sudden thought,
'The jester is loyal to the crown right?'
With a trembling hand, he picks up the crown and crudely places it on his head. He slowly stands up to face the Jester, their eyes meet for a moment and without a seconds delay Vanier sternly demands
"Bow for your king!"
To Vanier utter shock, the Jester gets on one knees and bows to towards him.
A string of laughter rains out, but this time it was not of the Jester's, Vanier begins to find the situation amusing.
Vanier rudely kicks the previous king of the throne and sits down with glowing arrogance.
"Dance for me"
The Jester begins to shuffle around with the bells on his hat sending out pleasant chimes.
"Good good"
Vanier tries to clap sarcastically, but is rudely reminded of his now permanent disability status.
Vanier leaned lazily forward absolutely drunk on his new found authority.
"Kill yourself."
The words escaped his mouth so casually.
A joke, Nothing more.
But at the very moment those words left his mouth, the atmosphere darkened.
The bells on the crimson hat stopped ringing.
The Jester froze.
Then slowly...painfully slow. The Jester raised both its own hands toward its own neck.
Vanier's amused smile faltered.
"Wait—"
A grueling wet crack echoed.
The Jester's fingers had dug into its own flesh beneath its jaw. The Jester sank its own nails grotesquely deep, blood as black as ink gushed out, trailing down its own fingers, while its grin kept on streching wider and wider. Its mouth begun to tear open at the corners, leaking out black blood down its chin.
Then it pulled.
Crunch~
That sound was unbearable to hear.
Bones fractured inside the Jester's neck one piece at a time, like branches of a tree snapping under pressure. Its tendons stretched visibly beneath the skin before tearing apart with sickening sounds.
The Jester convulsed violently.
Yet it kept on grinning.
Its head begin to title sideways at angles which are impossible, while its spine slowly emerged from its body. Thick clums of viscera stubbornly clung between its neck and shoulders, stretching longer and longer as the Jester continued pulling upward with enthusiastic determination.
Vanier stared in utter stomach wrenching horror.
Snap~
The remaining flesh had finally gave way all at one disgusting moment.
The Jester triumphantly tore its own head free.
Form its severed neck black blood spewed forth, painting the once radiant red carpet in a deep shade of black.
The Jester's body remained stationary for several grueling seconds, twitching and shaking uncontrollably, while its own severed head hanged in its hands.
And through everything-
It still kept grinning.
And to traumatize Vanier one last time, the mouth opened to let out a distorted giggle from its decapitated head.
Thud~
The Jester's body fell to the ground. Its severed head slipped from its hands and rolled across the floor with bells chiming softly with each turn of the head until it stopped directly before Vanier's feet.
Vanier body stood ever more still as still as a calm winter night, his body dared not to make any movement. The fear, disgust and horror of such magnitude assaulted him from all directions.
[YOU HAVE VANQUISHED THE JESTER]
[REWARDS HAVE BEEN ADJUSTED DUE TO INCREASED DIFFICULTLY]
[RIFT CONQUERED]
"Huh? What increased difficulty?"
To his shock, this time the voice responded,
[THE JESTER WAS CORRUPTED BY ???]
Vanier tries to imagine what could have corrupted The Jester, his chain of thought is disturbed by the voice again.
[YOU HAVE BEEN BESTOWED THE TITLE " THE PETTY THIEF " BY THE ARCADIA]
"THE PETTY WHAT?"
"Oh come on, He wanted me to have it!"
[YOU HAVE RECEIVED THE PASSIVE " THE JESTER'S LAUGHTER "]
[ PASSIVE: THE JESTER'S LAUGHTER
Activation requirement: Laughter during battle
In battle if the user laughs for a continuous period all pain is temporarily alivated, until the laughter stops.
Cool down: Nill. ]
"Great!, now everyone will think I am a masochist too."
[RIFT CLOSI&?%!??....
"What?..
Before Vanier could inquire more a sharp bludgeoning pain shoot through his head, Vanier holds his head with a muffled groan.
The angelic voice comes through again but not quite the same as before, Vanier could tell it's the same voice but it's distorted, it sounds like someone is squeezing and ripping the lungs of the angel, as she tries to speak through blood curdling in her lungs.
[YOU HAVE BEEN BESTOWED THE TITLE " THE PRISONER OF FORGOTTEN FAITH "]