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#Post#: 353593--------------------------------------------------
A Dying World and Beyond
By: Demonreach Date: November 13, 2013, 11:59 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
There is a world, dark and dying, in a lower dimension. Only a
few know of it, but most who do stay away and for good reason.
This is a world were any and all visitors are treated as
hostiles and none survive, especially in this place. It is
chaotic, cracked and torn. No sense of anything normal.
It was... empty.
To get to this world, one must cross Damnation Way: a shortcut,
if you will, between worlds, between dimensions. Only a few have
tried and survived, but they were never really seen again. As to
what happened to them... Who knew?
But there was one thing that was for certain about this dying
world, in its dark purple skies and oppressive atmosphere,
almost as if one were forced to carry all the burdens of the
world on their shoulders. There was no sound as such but simply
a growl of thunder that never seemed to end that echoed with the
dead air. How could anyone survive this? Why would they want to?
But someone did.
Someone thrived.
He wasn't much of a man, short in stature but lithely built. As
far as he knew, he was the only sentient creature within this
dying world. A world he was born into in the final days as the
Many-Angled Ones came with their never ending hunger. He didn't
have a name, as such, and he didn't talk: what point was there?
He simply was. A small hope for this world to live on. He didn't
have grasp of time nor did time have a grasp on him. The world
was dying. Laws and physics were play things with the chaotic
energies he had learned to harness. Granted, he didn't use those
very often as he prided himself in his skills with the crudely
made weapon he held always.
It was slightly rusted, though it was a few shades darker than
rust and too light to be human blood. It was blood, but the
blood of the creatures that plagued him every moment. He didn't
really sleep, as day and night were meaningless in the
bruise-colored sky. And there wasn't anyone else around that did
sleep on a regular basis, at fixed intervals, to ingrain that in
his head. Besides, sleep was for the weak. And he wasn't weak.
Never that.
He was a warrior, though the word and its meaning were lost to
him. He is intelligent, no doubt, having to use basic alchemy
from time to time, but nothing complex as the dying world's
already shredded reality didn't allow for complex machinery or
magicks. Not that it bothered him, as he didn't know anything
really complex to make or use. But then again, a monkey could
figure out half the stuff he had done within his lifetime.
In truth, he didn't know his actual age. He simply knew the
battles he has been in. If he could speak, he would regale those
around him with epic battles fought and won, and a few lost. He
had scars to prove it. Scars he bore proudly.
If there had been anything attractive about his face, it was
hidden beneath the thick and heavy scars that criss-crossed his
face and neck. A chunk of his left ear was missing from what
looked like a bite-mark and the right ear had several cuts along
the outside cartilage. His nose was crooked from too many breaks
and improper resets that it wasn't even hardly worth the effort
of fixing it. His entire torso and back were littered with scars
from teeth, claws, and other objects of violence. A few ribs
stuck out oddly from being broken and never set properly. His
arms and legs were no less scarred, and he was missing missing
the first knuckle of both middle fingers; the fingers were also
bent at odd angles from being broken one too many times, though
he had tried his best to keep them set right. In the end, it was
a useless effort as he just couldn't get enough time to let his
body heal correctly. Yes, if there was anything attractive about
him, it was long gone and replaced by character alone.
But, despite all of his scars, he could point out which ones
were which and how he got them, where he got them.
As he was shirtless mostly, his body was rather skinny, though
there was little body fat on him, so his veins stuck out
unnaturally so. His body was used to poor nutrition and used to
going without food for a quite awhile. Of course, he had poor
dental hygiene, so a few teeth were missing or were chipped from
eating materials best left alone by weaker stomachs.
Whatever to survive, right?
But it was on this fateful fight, this small battle, that he saw
visitors from another world just emerge from nowhere. It took
him by surprise but he dared not venture too close to them. He
waited, to see what they'd do against the creatures of the Dead
World.
They fought bravely, tirelessly, and one amongst them was a
devil with his sword as he carved his way through the endless
creatures. There was a brief lull in the creatures as they
gathered some more and noises from these visitors entered his
mind. He didn't quite understand it, and simply shook his head
and watched.
One of them, a big enough fellow, moved away from them as the
others started to walk away, towards something that swallowed
two of them. The third waited and watched the one who stayed
fought against the encroaching creatures. When the big one fell,
the third left without a trace.
Given his eye for detail, eyes expert at tracking and finding
things not there, he moved down to the mass of monsters and
carved them away from the big man with weapon and arcane
energies and ended his suffering, noticing the a golden
half-ring along his neck that glittered so beautifully. He took
this and slid over his own neck, enjoying the way it felt. It
was still warm from the mans body. He smiled with satisfaction.
The lone warrior made his way the way the small party of people
had came from and noticed the way the air warped and
outstretched his arm and when nothing happened he frowned,
puzzled. Then, he extended his index finger and pulled it back
sharply as he watched it vanish into the air.
His face lit up with savage glee and curiosity as he then strode
forward...
#Post#: 354055--------------------------------------------------
Re: A Dying World and Beyond
By: Demonreach Date: November 18, 2013, 2:48 am
---------------------------------------------------------
... Stumbling from the portal, the man found himself face to
face with another being.
He blinked.
She screamed.
He let out a grunt of pain as her voice echoed out harsh words,
though they were just noises that echoed roughly against his
eardrums. He was used to the silence of his world, of the faint
moans of the dying world, of the creaking groans of the
creatures he vanquished. Not this.
He struck her in the face with a quick jab, the cartilage and
bone breaking beneath the hit; blood gushed out, spraying a few
drops onto his face. He hardly felt the impact, though she
dropped at his feet. He smiled as silence reigned once again.
But it was short lived as everyone else in the room started to
bustle about, bringing weapons to bear against him, shouting
orders, shouting at him.
So much noise... Stop it... Why must you do this? STOP! His mind
cried out, and power gathered at his fingertips.
So much power.
Too much power.
Fire exploded out of his fingers, dancing wildly in the air as
it engulfed the entire room, frying the computers and cooking
the people attending. Burnt flesh and hair filled the air as did
the screams of the dying. He called upon earth, focusing the
gravity in the room to crush the people under its weight.
Desks, chairs, and monitors hanging on the walls --those that
hadn't fallen from the fires-- caved in and fell, broken; the
damage to the people was so much more terrifying. Bones broke
beneath the increased pressure being applied, skulls exploded;
bones snapped like trees, some protruding from the flesh. Those
that would come to inspect once everything cleared out would be
thankful for the fires that raged unrelenting, never touching
the under-dimensional man. Those that didn't die, he killed out
of mercy with his crudely made sword. However, as the fires grew
hotter, they unleashed a new terror: bullets.
Shots were fired due to the heat, if not by the increased
gravity. It shook the man to his very core as he rushed out of
there, trying to find a way out. He had called upon the air to
snuff the flames and had wrapped it around him as a way of
keeping the flames and heat off of him; the winds around him
whipped with bone-breaking force, suffocating those unlucky
enough to still be alive. The bullets never came close to
touching him as the winds knocked them off course enough to
avoid his flesh, even if they were just stray ones. He didn't go
out of his way to kill them out of mercy, just those in his way
of escaping. The man ducked beneath a desk that had remained
unbroken through most of it, the air around him snuffing the
oxygen away from the fires of raging along the desk, as well as
cooling it off.
After a few minutes the screams and gunshots died down, the
flames all but gone. Crawling out from beneath his desk, he
looked up at the ceiling and raised both hands towards it,
fingertips facing the roof, the backs of his hands facing each
other, and pulled them apart all the while using the air to rip
it open enough for him. Next, he created a bubble of air beneath
him and then another higher and another one higher still,
creating a sort of stair-step. Jumping on the bubble of air
beneath him, he jumped higher than he normally would've and with
a foot, pushed off the next air bubble and so until he reached
the surface.
It was dark out, stars twinkling in the vast ocean of space. The
man stood transfixed by such a sight, but when he saw the moon,
his eyes grew wide with awe and wonder.
Everything was so... alive.
Not the bruise-colored sky where time had all but come to a
halt; not the decayed-filled air. It was clean. Vibrant with
life and energy. He could feel it, the order this planet had; it
all but begged him to drink from its waters. This was a living
world, not the dying world he grew up on.
He looked down, after what would've been half an hour of staring
at the stars and moon, and ran his bare feet along the blades of
grass. Green blades of grass. Not the prickly, dead grass that
offered to kill the unwary. He felt tears running down his face,
leaving tracks on his grimy face. He fell to his knees, hands
running along the grass before he laid his forehead onto the
ground, inhaling sharply the scent of the grass; his long,
unkempt and matted hair spilled forth, the string he used to tie
it back lost; a recent trend for him, as he usually kept it bald
to admire his scars. He rolled over and lay in the green grass,
his body shaking with silent laughter; a wheezing noise that
would've scared even the bravest of souls. This was life.
Beauty. Everything he could imagine and then some. He never
thought so many colors existed. It was almost too much for his
senses.
He drank it all in.
He didn't even care about the people he had just killed, though
he wasn't one to waste breath over a dead body or seven. It was
unreal.
His fingers dug into the ground, feeling the dirt beneath;
feeling the life churn. How could someone not see this as a
gift? How could someone want to destroy such beauty? It was
unthinkable. He wondered how his world looked before it died.
The man was content, over-joyed, to be here. The tears of joy
had long dried up, though the smile hadn't left his face.
He didn't know how long he lay there, though the moon was in a
different place when he opened his eyes to the sound of several
dozen footsteps heading his way.
Preparing himself, the smile gone, he got to his feet; the
'sword' resting in his hand as he readied himself...
#Post#: 354153--------------------------------------------------
Re: A Dying World and Beyond
By: Demonreach Date: November 18, 2013, 2:29 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
... His pale green eyes found the group of people coming towards
him dressed heavily in black, the guns at the ready, though a
few supported knives.
The man looked around, searching for something, anything, to
hide behind. To gain some cover.
However, they marched right past him.
His eyes narrowed as he stalked behind them, watching, waiting.
He didn't know why they had marched past him, passing several
yards in front of him, but he didn't make himself known. While
he had his magic to call upon, he didn't like using it. And with
the readiness in which this world gave its energy so freely, he
was even more wary about using it. He hated killing
unnecessarily, so he just trailed behind them, hanging behind
about a dozen yards. Their smells were unfamiliar, which he
should've expected.
The group of men came to a halt and he stopped as well, falling
to his stomach lest they see him. A small group of them, about
five, broke off and went to the right and another seven went to
the left. The rest continued straight ahead.
He followed the group of five.
They moved slower, walking casually; weapons at the ready. They
had turned on their flashlights, though the man was curious
about them, having not seen them before. Like small suns
captured in metal. How powerful were these creatures? What had
he gotten himself into? But before he could fully understand his
situation, one of them pointed the beam of light at him and
barked out orders.
What was he saying? What was that coming from his mouth? A growl
escaped his throat, a deep sound that seemed to vibrate the air
with its force; this caused the man to shake a bit, the smell of
fear coming in waves, though he felt good with his partners at
his back, weapons and beams of light pointing at him. They were
bright, ruining his night-vision, and causing him to cover his
eyes. Unfortunately, the arm that went up was the one with his
'sword' and the man shot at him, the bullet grazing against his
forearm. The pain was different, sharp and hot, but he didn't
let it cloud his mind as he moved, his body a blur as he moved
the air around him to prevent drag.
His 'sword' was a blur as it hamstrung the man, severing the
artery in the leg; he fell down with a scream, finger pulling
the trigger to fire off a few shots in reflex. The other-worldly
man brought his knife against the mans wrist, laying it open
with a quick slash that severed tendons and ligaments.
The free hand hit another man as he stepped too close, the palm
hitting the solar plexus of the black-clad creature, sending him
stumbling back a few feet and into another.
He quickly kicked a leg out and tripped the man up, sending him
and his counterpart into a tangle of limbs. With two left, he
moved to the left, narrowly missing a bullet from a foot away;
the shooter stepped forward, swinging the gun at his face;
catching it, he pulled the man off balance and kicked him in the
hip, his efforts affording him a satisfying sound of bone
breaking. He brought the blade of his weapon against the armpit
of the man and sliced, nearly cutting the limb. With the same
motion, he whipped the weapon around and cut the side of the
mans neck, severing the artery there and let him fall.
[center]~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~[/center]
The last man was frozen with shock, a single man taking out four
men in body armor and armed with guns with nothing but a bladed
weapon and his fists. However, the last man noticed how the man
stood, watching, waiting. He didn't advance or retreat. Just
stared. Those pale green eyes, shot red with blood, stared
unblinking. Not a muscle twitched.
He couldn't move, stuck by how feral this man was; how
primitive. The weapon he carried was a glorified pig-sticker.
Nothing more. A piece of metal shaved down with jagged edges and
flecked with rust, or what looked like rust. His flashlight
hardly helped and he didn't want to move in case the man took it
the wrong way. This was a predator and any wrong move would be
the death of him.
Two of his men were bleeding to death already.
He saw one of them move and quickly said, "Stop! Don't do
anything sudden or provoke an attack. Just stay where you are."
"How can you say that?! He is the enemy. He killed all of those
people down there!"
The man with the pale green eyes growled again, a deep noise
that made the officer shake in his boots. "Just shut up."
He moved slowly, tugging the weapon strap from around his
shoulders and crouched low and laid the weapon down. Putting his
hands behind his head, he put his face to the dirt and waited.
[center]~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~[/center]
Curious movements, but ones of surrender. Something primal in
the man acknowledged this sign of defeat and surrender and he
moved amongst the two dead bodies, relieving one of them of
their knives. Though it wasn't as long as his own, it would
help. He hear movement from his left and he whirled around, his
new knife whipping with him as he laid open an arm of his
attacker --the who had made those noises with the other one--
and he turned his weapon around and hit the man with the end of
the handle in the ribcage, the man gasping as air left that lung
and the ribs broke and a few cracked. The arm he had cut had a
deep gash along it, exposing bone. Another knife rested on the
ground and, after putting the new knife away, he picked it up
and placed the tip of it against the underside of the mans jaw
and rammed it upward.
He busted out the beams of light and jogged out into the
darkness of the night, the half-smile of the moon staring down
at him.
His direction was a diagonal course for the main body of men
that had disengaged the two smaller parties, but he wouldn't get
to them as the gravity around his body lightened and his body
started to float; as he got about two hundred feet into the air,
he used the air around him to guide his body north and east.
Towards the mountains in the distance...
#Post#: 354209--------------------------------------------------
Re: A Dying World and Beyond
By: CoherentInsanity Date: November 18, 2013, 6:48 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
It was chilly up above the city, but Michael's burning
cybernetic heart warded off the effects of the biting wind.
Change was coming, and this world and all it's 'order' would
come to a fall, and Micheal intended to see that it did.
Ideally, his actions would serve to weed out corruption within
both society it's governing forces, but he was fully aware that
his actions may only serve to spark chaos and plunge society
into anarchy.
So be it.
Up in the mountains, Michael overlooked the financial district,
and was keen on seeing the investment banking building go up in
flames. For prior he had rigged it to blow, to be an anonymous
act of terrorism against the country's fascination with greed. A
cryptic message would broadcast in the aftermath, with an
inspirational speech from your's truly denouncing the country's
reliance on social classes and screwed up priorities that
functioned to make the rich richer, while also playing on what
made and would make the country great again. Everything was in
place, even the transmitter that would broadcast the message to
every electronic device in 200 miles had been precisely aligned.
All that was left to do was trigger the detonation that would
end dozens of lives to make this statement. However, before
Michael's thumb could hit it, the building went up in flames
anyways. This was odd, as Michael was sure everything had been
set up correctly. There was no room for mistake, let alone a
premature detonation. It was odd, but in the end, the statement
would still be made. Micheal shrugged and walked over to the
terminal that would broadcast the message. But before he could
send it out, an immensely strong gust of wind blew him off his
feet.
Michael quickly recovered, and pin pointed what looked to be a
man flying overhead. Michael also saw that the transmitter was
demolished and scattered across the mountain top. Michael's
previously calm demeanor immediately turned bellicose. The
cybernetic outlaw took to chasing the air-bourne man, using his
naturally incredible leaping ability assisted by steam bursts
from his gauntlets, Michael was able to catch up to the man, and
with one last, death defying leap off the edge of the mountain
range, Michael closed as much distance as possible before
lashing out with a titanium chain. It caught around the ankle of
the man just as Michael began his descent, and he yanked at the
chain with great strength to ensure that the man would fall with
him.
#Post#: 354217--------------------------------------------------
Re: A Dying World and Beyond
By: Demonreach Date: November 18, 2013, 7:16 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
He could see a soft glow in the distance, which was his beacon.
If it was anymore of those small suns, he'd surely find
someone...
His senses caught wind (hurhur) of a man following him, not at
all discreetly. What had he done to provoke this one? Shrugging,
he kept on flying as the man hadn't offered any attack, but he
was fast and gaining. This surprised him and caused him to
hesitate, wondering if this man knew how to manipulate the
energies of his world. He could help.
That was his thought, though it quickly changed as he saw the
man lash out with something metallic and shiny. He felt its cold
grip wrap around his ankle and then, he fell with the man.
He struck out with his 'sword', the metals clanging sharply
against each other; while he was mildly surprised, as his
'sword' cut through bone and sinew with such ease --and it had
cut the armor of the guards quite easily as well. Nonetheless,
he kept striking it, knowing his chain would fail before his
weapon did. However, as he kept falling, he pushed the gravity
around him out further until the mans own gravity was light as a
feather. The outsider was getting better control of the elements
here.
That was his thought until he lashed out with the air to sever
the chain.
He had meant to make a thin line of air sharp enough to cut the
chain, but while it was sharp enough to do the job, it was thick
and cut nearly four inches of the chain. As the gravity around
the man was all but nothing, he would still float.
The man released some control of gravity around the man enough
so that he fell in a slow descent; he struggled to maintain
this, but as he guessed the man to be about seventy feet from
the ground, he released his hold on the gravity around the man
and felt the strain ease up.
He wasn't too surprised that his earth magic was coming more
naturally (hurhur) to him than the others, as he had always had
an affinity for earth itself. But, now, he was a little tired
and wouldn't be able to make it to the soft glow in the horizon
and allowed himself to fly a few hundred yards more before
crashing into the forest below, the branches reaching out to
catch him; to shelter him.
He had been running on adrenaline for so long, his body was
weary and exhausted, as was his mind. The strain of this higher
dimension finally catching up to him and it hit him like semi
truck. It felt like his very soul was being oppressed, stretched
out over a table and being put through the grinder. He was used
to the oppressive feeling in his own world, but this was
something new, different. All the things he had seen caught up
with him and his mind was trying to adjust it, to filter it, so
he could understand, to cope.
It hurt like hell, but he wasn't one to take a beating laying
down; though he had to admit he had is own limits, which were
surely maxed out right now. So, he closed his eyes and let the
past few hours sift through his mind as he learned from his
mistakes and from what he saw.
He adapted.
#Post#: 354269--------------------------------------------------
Re: A Dying World and Beyond
By: CoherentInsanity Date: November 18, 2013, 10:45 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
To Michael's dismay, the chain had been cut. Fortunately,
something had slowed his descent for the majority of the fall,
leaving him to drop a mere seventy feet. Otherwise the landing
would have hurt.
At least, that's what Michael told himself as he groaned in
agony upon having to reset a broken leg. Still, at least the
fall was far from fatal for him. Despite the pain, Michael was
able to track the man's landing in a nearby forest laying on the
far outskirts of the mountain range. Looking back, it was fully
possible for him to return to the mountain peak and reassemble
the the transmitter within two hours at most, but the magic was
gone. There was something poetic about delivering such a message
right after the attack. So resigning to the fact that the set
back eliminated the romance of the statement, Michael decided to
follow the intruder and acquire either retribution or an
explanation for the rude interruption.
"Heeeeello, mister airbender!" Michael shouted as he entered the
forest with a slight limp. His voice module's volume was at max
to ensure that he'd at least cover this part of the forest with
his marvelous voice. "You can come out now, peacefully. I
promise to make this easy on you if you do." Michael of course
didn't think this would be easy. The man could be anywhere and
by no guarantee would reveal himself after that stunt. So the
masked maniac would resort to other means of drawing him out.
Wiggy, Michael's personal drone, had already been summoned and
ordered to scan the forest's lifeforms before he reached the
tree line. Checking his monitor, Michael was jumped by a sea of
red.
"You're scanning for plant life aren't you? I thought I was
clear, I want animals and potentially people!" Michael scorned.
The monitor updated to a slightly different sea of red, except
this one was moving every which way."
"Filter out insects and birds too please." he specified to which
Wiggy chirped with frustration.
Something told him this was going to be a long night.
#Post#: 354326--------------------------------------------------
Re: A Dying World and Beyond
By: Demonreach Date: November 19, 2013, 2:00 am
---------------------------------------------------------
His eyes opened as he heard a noise, a loud noise; noise that
the others had made. Shouting. Yes, shouting. But the outsider
still couldn't understand what it meant. Looking around him, he
saw a metal object floating and frowned as he stared it, trying
to make sense of the thing, but his instincts told him to remain
very still.
Which he didn't.
He slid down the back of the tree, his body covered in dirt and
grime from the last few hours of his entrance. While this
probably wouldn't be a huge deterrent of the drone's heat
sensors. Not that the outsider knew of such things, as he was
rather primitive still.
As he touched the ground, he made used the faintest brushes of
air to remove any leaves and twigs that would alert the object
to his presence. He didn't know what it was, but he'd destroy it
before it caused him harm. The forest was silent as he stalked
the object, staying just ahead of its 'eye'. It seemed to be
searching for something, probably him, which couldn't be good.
He wasn't entirely sure of what to do in this situation, but he
knew this oddity had to go before something bad happened. He
picked up his pace.
Eventually, he found his way behind the drone; he could hear the
footsteps of the man as he walked through here with little to no
tact. Anything for a mile could hear his stomping. His lips
curled into a feral sneer as he watched.
The object wouldn't look at the man, and if it did, it passed
over him; so it wasn't just out to kill, and it was with the
man. He hid behind the man, though stayed several yards back as
to avoid alerting the stranger as well. He closed his eyes as to
avoid letting the man know he was being watched and tried his
best to mask his presence from the mans other senses; he used
the air the man displaced as a guide, and with this, he also
kept tabs on the drone. His blood raced with excitement.
Finally, something worthy of his skills as a hunter and stalker.
He pulled his new knife from his ragged and torn breeches and
threw it in the same motion, using the air that it displaced to
keep it silent as it aimed for the metallic object to knock it
down; just missing the mans ear. But he didn't stop, even as the
knife left his fingers, he ran towards the man, silent on his
feet, and kicked him in the back of the leg, placing the edge of
the weapon and placing it against the side of the mans neck.
Keeping it there, he looked at the object, hoping it would be
downed.
He wanted so badly to tell this man he wasn't malevolent, that
he wasn't here to destroy. Instead, he merely growled
menacingly, hoping the man would be struck by the same fear the
guard was and wouldn't move. And it was a growl to strike terror
in the hardest of souls. Instead, he kept the sword there with a
few strands of air and walked towards the metal object and
picked up his knife and the drone. He jammed the knife into the
drone's 'eye' and tossed it before the man, watching for any
reaction. The pale green eyes shining maliciously as they
watched him much as they watched the guard moments before.
He pointed at himself and then the above him; pointed the man,
then up above, then at himself and made a motion across his neck
and pointed at the drone as if to punctuate what he meant. He
pointed at the man again and pointed down, then repeated the
motion of him leaving. Staying just long enough to make sure the
man kneeling before him understood, he pushed the gravity around
him away and floated, using the air to accelerate his speed of
going; the 'sword' leaving the mans neck after a handful of
seconds to follow the outsider.
He continued his quest for that soft glow in the distance...
#Post#: 354559--------------------------------------------------
Re: A Dying World and Beyond
By: CoherentInsanity Date: November 20, 2013, 8:16 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
As the minutes passed, Michael began to feel that maybe this was
pointless. One failed statement perhaps wasn't worth wasting his
precious time in a god forsaken forest. He was better off
licking his wounds and working on the next big heist, political
sabotage or assassination. Michael wasn't even sure what he'd do
with the man if he caught him. Despite not pulling the trigger
on the building below, whatever blood lust the maniac had
tonight was surely satisfied. Perhaps the intruder would be left
off with a warning.
But in an sudden, startling instant, Wiggy was down and emitting
a panicked wheeze, and Michael was brought to his knees with a
blade by his throat. "Well played." he muttered despite the
metal pressing against his jugular. The man responded with a
chilling growl. While Michael wasn't one that was easily
threatened, he acknowledged the sincerity in the tone, and the
fact that he was in a compromising position that would place him
entirely at the man's mercy if it hadn't been for the epidermal
armor coating that bolstered his soft spots. Still, this could
turn out really really bad for him.
Before he could form a retaliation, the man walked away, but the
blade stayed locked in place by Michael's neck. Michael then
watched in horror as the man brutalized Wiggy's optics and
tossed the malfunctioning drone his way. Wiggy beeped a
pathetic, pained beep as sparks flung from its eye. Michael
almost lunged forward to claim Wiggy, but restrained as the
blade pressed against his neck, slightly piercing through the
armor and inflicting a fair amount of pain.
The man motioned, almost in a form of sign language, that he
merely wanted to escape. That intent was noble enough, and
normally Michael would have complied, but the man had to answer
for the damage to his precious pet drone. Not that answering
would be easy however, since it seemed like the man was
incapable of communicating at a higher level. Whether or not he
was deaf, mute or both, there had to be some way to make a
statement. To get something across.
But before he could devise anything, the man was rocketing off.
The sword fell shortly after, and Michael immediately rushed to
Wiggy and did everything he could to repair him and bring him
from the brink of permanent shut down. Parts were fabricated on
the spot with the help of his gauntlets, and frantic wire work
was done in the course of just a minute and a half. Fortunately,
Wiggy was stabilized and Michael was able to breath easy.
As far as tracking the man, it was fairly easy to assume he was
still heading in the same direction. A lot of distance was
covered from the mountains to here without much of a stray from
course. So the man was obviously heading somewhere. But where
was the true question, and one that could not be answered yet.
So after ensuring that Wiggy could self recover and make its way
back to base, Michael set off in the same course, towards the
warm blanket of the sun in the distance.
#Post#: 354639--------------------------------------------------
Re: A Dying World and Beyond
By: Demonreach Date: November 23, 2013, 8:08 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
The unnamed man sighed softly to himself as he flew through the
night, trying to get the mans face out of his head. Who cared
that much about some piece of metal? The outsider had seen many
creatures during his time within his home world and cybernetic
beings was one of those things. While the drone hadn't looked
all that threatening, he couldn't be too careful in this world.
It had already proven to be hostile despite his best efforts and
he wondered if these beings even knew what they had that they
would act so recklessly.
He could feel them through this planet's energies, like some
disease that ate away at the host until nothing was left. He had
seen plenty of those in the Dying World. Computers that had
taken over human bodies until nothing human remained... But
those computers and cybernetic beings didn't last very long. His
world didn't seem capable of hosting complex magics and
machinery. But this world... It was so alive. Power that hadn't
even been tapped till he arrived. Well, that was wrong, but
these people had long since killed off those with that ability.
The scars left in the energy fields made that apparent enough.
Steadily, he grew closer to the soft light and went wide-eyed as
he saw huge, sprawling structures. He was starting to hear the
commotion of it all and alighted upon the one of huge buildings
and looked around. The alien watched them, scurrying about like
machines. He watched people climb into machines and speed off,
watched them get out of the same machines; there was, of course,
a variety of the transporting devices. He could hear some kind
of sound that reminded him of the gunshots but deeper and more
sporadic. Then he noticed that a group of the small people were
pointing and shouting at him.
What had he done?
He didn't want to kill these people, did they not understand?
He'd done nothing to provoke them, but they were already massing
around the building. He could see bright, flashing lights and
more wailing, realizing the wailing was coming from the
transportation devices. He was astounded. Had his own people
advanced this far?
As he was taking it all in, a sudden, sharp pain lanced across
his head; the pain dulled out, but his head hurt. While the
nameless drifter had taught himself to read and to write, he
wondered if this was a headache. It was probably caused from the
stress of this higher dimension. He had experienced them before,
when he went too long without food. Something that happened
often, no doubt.
Shrugging the pain aside, he realized he could hear their
shouting more clearly.
Squinting, he saw one of the people had a device held up to his
mouth and was shouting through it. What was he saying?
He waved his arms, trying to get them to understand, then he
remembered his magicks, though his instincts warned him not to
try given their dislike of such things.
But he did anyway, hoping to get them to understand.
He called upon air and fire and started to draw words in the air
by heating up the particles and energizing them, to make them
visible. He varied the heat of his flames to make different
colors as he writ.
He could hear the collective gasp and smiled, knowing they would
understand. But then, he heard the whirring noise of blades
cutting the air and ducked immediately, looking up to see a
flying craft with men in black shining a captured sun at his
face, blinding him; he also noticed the boom stick pointed at
him and frowned.
Twirling the first two fingers of his right hand, the words
--which had failed-- flowed through the air and struck the
whirring aircraft. It exploded, the man using the air to disrupt
the trajectory of the objects, though he was blown back by the
shock wave. Calling upon the earth, he increased the gravity
around his person so that he slammed into the roof of the tall
building, so that he didn't fall off. Not that was an issue.
Standing up, he checked himself and was satisfied there was
nothing broken, though he'd be a bit sore and had a few bruises.
He looked down and saw that the aircraft had hit the ground, and
knew a few had died, beyond those within the craft. That was
when he heard the distinct sound of the boom-sticks and ducked,
puzzling over why they would do this. He had proven himself more
than capable of destroying them, had even destroyed one of their
hives. It was disheartening, to say the least, but they had
their chance.
Calling upon fire, he raised the heat until the flames were
clear, and sent the heat out, watching as lightning crackled and
liquid fire fell from his hands to melt the buildings stone
roof. He watched in amazement as the air particles around him
began to become charged and electrified. It was... glorious.
Using the air, he created a small dome around him to gather the
liquid fire and lightning and slowly raised his hands, the dome
lifting up; as it was going up, he pulled his arms apart and
watched as the dome expanded to become a small blanket of barely
contained liquid fire. However, he left a small flame, isolated
from the rest, at the center as he used the gravity around the
blanket to condense the liquid fire in a small sphere, the size
of his eye. He allowed it to float between his hands, hovering,
crackling with lightning and pent up magic. He could feel the
distortion the small, condensed ball made in the air and grinned
gleefully. He whipped a sphere of air that lifted him and
carried him down to the streets below. He could see the officers
and the normal beings staring at him wide-eyed with horror and
wonder. He met their stares with his grin of glee and pushed the
small ball outwards.
Within the sphere of liquid fire was a flame that lay cradled
and kept barely alive by a smaller sphere of air that isolated
it from everything else, but didn't allow it to fuel the flame.
As it passed unharmed by the sphere of air that left the alien
hovering a few inches from the ground, he allowed the sphere of
air to collapse and fuel the fire. While that little amount of
air wouldn't do much, it was air that had been condensed by the
gravity that made the blanket of liquid fire a small ball, but
had left a small pinhole so the fire had a place to go and
expand to create a rather devastating effect. That being said,
the resulting explosion was bigger than he had thought it would
be and felt his body knocked back into the building and felt
each jarring impact as his body hit floors and desks and went
through walls. While nothing would be broken due to the air
around him keeping his body protected for the most part, he knew
he'd be bloody and bruised. He heard several explosions a few
seconds later, though it was distant and almost not there. His
ears were ringing and he coughed, sucking in lungfuls of air.
His sphere of air was gone, something he hadn't realized. It had
been sucked into the fire as well. He used his water magic to
pull his blood together and keep it from spilling more than it
had. Putting that on the back burner of his mind, he pulled
himself up and looked around him.
There was fire everywhere, people screaming in panic and running
about trying to find somewhere safe. He pitied them. Pulling the
water from the air, he used it to soothe the burns on his own
body and pulled it to a razor thin edge to peel off the dead
skin and covered the areas with the water like a bandage. He
relaxed at the cool, soothing touch of the water but knew he
couldn't stand around for long. Already he saw more men in black
moving about in the shadows of the fire.
But they didn't know just how unlucky they were...
#Post#: 354642--------------------------------------------------
Re: A Dying World and Beyond
By: CoherentInsanity Date: November 24, 2013, 12:03 am
---------------------------------------------------------
In an instant, the fires around the outsider and the men in
black were exhumed, absorbed by Michael's gauntlets as a source
of energy to supercharge his weapon production. Michael swiftly
dived into the group of soldiers, startling them and taking
their weapon sights off the outsider. Batons rocketed out of
seemingly nowhere and into Michael's hands, and the front wave
of soldiers' weapons were batted aside or their arms broken.
Bullets began flying at Michael from the second wave, but
Michael dived around it and threw his batons with deadly
precision to dispatch of two of the gunmen. Chains shot out and
were lashed around to wipe out the second wave. Usually his
chains would be bladed or super-heated, but Michael intended to
minimize casualties here, limiting himself to blunt force
trauma. These men were not targets, and this was not a
statement. In fact, Michael was a bit irritated that the
outsider had such little tact and restraint. It couldn't have
been more obvious to Micheal where he had to go to find this
man. Many lives were lost in the hell fire that engulfed this
part of the city, and it was impossible to quantify how many
people may or may not have deserved it. Controlled chaos was
much more preferable.
"I should have detained you back in the forest. You make too
much of a mess!" Michael proclaimed as he calmly walked towards
the outsider.
Remembering that the outsider was apparently deaf, Michael laid
out a crude mix of words and symbols on the ground using ejected
scrap metal from his gauntlets, hoping that some of them would
make sense to magical cretin. They roughly read:
'You need to get out of here. And stop killing people unless
you're able to keep this up. I know too well that you can't.
Eventually you'll be cornered and forced to face the
consequences. Hide, and stop blowing things up for a while.'
Michael did contemplate whether or not this man would make a
good accomplice. There was a reason why Michael wasn't aiming to
kill him outright, despite what he did in the forest. He did
meet 'blowing buildings up efficiently' criteria, and may just
be powerful enough to make Michael himself scarier just by
association. Maybe a magical madman would be a crucial asset to
being taken seriously on a global scale.
But right now the man was useless to him unless communication
could be made. Plus he'd have to apologize for Wiggy to get
anything more than this momentary truce.
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