The Rotting Perceptive Life Simulation Machine
The Abomination
Name: Valask
Alias/title: The Abomination
Age:
Gender: Male
Race:
Description:
Personality:
Skills:
Class: Monster hunter
Job: Cyborg surgeon
Soul Spells/Abilities:
Soul tech aids these abilities, they are about as easy to use and as draining to him as holding his own breath.
Quick activation, limited time,
Weapons:
Armor/soul tech gear:
Vehicle/pet:
Relationships:
goodbadindifferentHistory:
Valask was born a Purist, an only child to well off parents. They devoted everything to his success in life and died of age in his middle years.
Valask's success ended the day he became one of the Decaying.
Taking the body of a horned person to escape his own he has since continued his profession and cyberized it.
He is now a rogue beast hunter. Hunting monsters for their souls to sustain his own. Unwilling to drain humans.
In generalisation he is an outcast from most other civilisations.
Even when his 'Decaying' status is hidden, he is shunned by purists for his horned body. Out right hated by other horned people for his cybernetic implants and attachments. The elementals seem to be savvy of his decaying nature and spare him no trust.
He has forgone his previous luxuries and now fights just to survive.
Prologue:
The Blasphemy
Name:
Verrian Zylo
Alias/title:
The Blasphemy
Age:
???
Gender:
Male
Race:
Lightning Soul Elemental / Cyborg
Alignment:
Lawful Good
Description:
6'8" tall, weighs just over 300 lbs.
Personality:
Zylo is a simple being of simple taste. He is known for an intense passion in that which he believes in, and has a strict adherence to his sense of right. One such thing he believes passionately in is perfection -he believes that the road to perfection is through becoming at one with one's soul and that all are capable of reaching perfection should they put their best effort into it. Because he believes that he is so very close to perfection on his own, he considers himself far above others, though not in an arrogant fashion. Rather, he pities those he believes to be below him, and wishes to assist their journey to perfection.
He is not the most charismatic, though he is not especially awkward either. Zylo is compassionate and loyal to those who earn it, and believes in love and respect for all, even those who wrong him. This respect is admittedly diluted in respect to the undead or decaying. That being said, forgiveness is always an option in the mind of Zylo, as he has mastered his temper. Zylo tends to be a bit bullheaded -especially in reference to his own beliefs in his soul, though a strong enough argument has been known to persuade him in the past.
Skills:
Traits:
-/-
Class:
Warlock-
Similar to a mage, with prominent distinguishing differences. The Warlock focuses less on precision and power of skill, in favor of raw unleashed power in their Soul spells. Rather than the weak venerable physical form expected of a mage, a Warlock is innately tough, throwing themselves into the fray. Though they aren't known for the mages intellectual prowess, they find similarities to the mage in their eschewal of weaponry in combat
Job:
Was previously an engineer, an architect of machinery, until he fully embraced his search for soul perfection. At this point, he became a vagrant wanderer.
Soul Spells:
Weapons:
-/-
Armor/soul tech gear:
Vehicle/pet:
-/-
Relationships/family:
Long estranged from his family after his path to perfection was undertaken. His fellow soul elementals frowned upon his self-augmentation as a cyborg, though he still sees them as his brothers.
History:
Born and raised a Purist at the beginning of times, he was inducted into a tribe of like minded people who shared one trait in common -a need for power. As such, they shed their mortal skin to truly embrace their souls and become at one with the universe. Or something like that -Zylo only joined the tribe to earn the favor of a woman with whom he was madly in love with.
Upon the shedding of their mortal skin in a ritual whose details remain fuzzy in his mind, Zylo's life improved tenfold. He felt power surge within him unlike anything before, but even moreso, his love pledged her love for him in return. Zylo truly held hope that the two of them would live till the end of the universe took them both in fiery passion.
This of course, was not the case. One day, a Decaying Horned One took the life of his lover in the hopes of restoring his soul. Zylo did not take this well, pledging a year of his life hunting down the Decaying Horned One who had brought him so much grief. After hunting throughout the planet for what seemed all too long, he was on the brink of surrender, when he found the clue that lead him to the murderer of his love. Zylo's revenge was bloody, prolonged, and all too excessive. While the spirit of the law saw his vengeance as justified, the letter of the law felt it necessary to lock up Zylo for his destructive tendencies.
Upon his release, Zylo resigned to a life of peace, leaving behind his past of power hunger. After picking up skills in the field from an old friend, Zylo spent his days in the field of engineering -mostly building and maintaining vehicles. This lead him to become acquainted with others in the field, and as technology advanced past ancient soul tech, he learned the ways of building newer soul tech.
An unfortunate turn of events ended in Zylo's shop burning to the ground. Realizing that he simply didn't have the power to fend off a largely growing threat of Decaying creatures, he turned back to his old ways of endlessly seeking power. In this, he built the suit of encapsulating soul tech he wears today. After improving his personal destruction capabilities, Zylo went on a witchhunt of sorts, wishing to take out his aggression on undead of any sort.
After this ended in near fatal injury, Zylo took a hiatus to recover before he turned his eyes. Going on a long pilgrimage of many years, he visited the mountain of each of the Eleven Mortals in turn, hoping to gain some profound wisdom from these spiritual visitations. It was this that turned him to the idea of self perfection, and the righteous spirit he hosts today.
Prologue:
The dead silence of the room was only broken by the mechanical whirring of slowly shifting joints and a slowly pulsating buzz of raw energy. Verrian Zylo stood tall, his every joint straining in an effort to make himself appear taller. A trio of dark forms were crouched before the Soul Elemental, blue skin cracked like stone after years of wear. They held themselves low to the ground, bodies eerily still. Between the two parties was a smoking corpse, similar in appearance to the group of dark skinned men.
The clear leader stepped forward, long horns curling from his papery skin just above the sunken eyes. A deep guttural noise clawed its way from within the creatures throat, interrupted by a sharp crack in the air. The scent of ozone sprung into being, smoke trailing from a blackened mark now on the floor. Verrian Zylo raised a hand, index and middle finger extended to point directly between the eyes of the decayed one standing before him.
"Consider that your first and only warning." Verrian said, voice rumbling like a thunderstorm rolling through the room. While two of the decrepit figures were smart enough to flee, the leader kept a stony demeanor as he advanced closer. An unearthly screech erupted from the horned figure as he stepped over the smoking husk of his fallen comrade, lunging for the shiny metal exoskeleton of Verrian Zylo. Clawed hands extended from twig-like arms, grasping greedily for anything the overly long nails could find purchase in.
Just as quickly as the screech came out of the creatures mouth, Zylo raised arms of pure crackling electricity to intercept the grasp of the decayed one. The weak creature struggled against the powerful grip as it felt sparks jump across its cracked skin. After a short few seconds of grappling between the two, Zylo let his steely grip go, shoving the creatures arms to it's sides. As the horned figure struggled to regain it's balance, Verrian Zylo raised a single palm, placing it on the creatures chest. A hush fell through the room, as static emanated from both figures. A high pitched whirring sound pierced through the silence, followed by a flash of light.
The horned creature soared across the room, ragdoll body slamming hard into the far wall. He slumped down in the corner, a hand shaped mark burning on his chest, which now rose and fell in ragged breaths. He tried unsuccessfully to stand once, twice, then finally made it up to his knees. As he staggered to his feet, his hands raised over his head in a gesture of surrender.
This gesture was met by Zylo with a deep, crackling laugh, that reverberated through the otherwise empty room. The horned figure had a look of confusion set in his sunken features, that quickly changed to a grimace of pain as another sharp bang sounded out from the outstretched arm of Verrian Zylo, a bolt of electric energy piercing a hole in the stomach of his victim.
BANG
BANG
BANG
Another three noises rocked through the air, each accompanied by a blinding flash of bright blue lightning arcing through the withered body of the decayed horned creature. It fell to it's knees with a pathetic whine, before falling face down. Blood tainted black pooled from the new wounds -one in each eye, and one in the throat. Verrian Zylo turned, electricity excitedly arcing through his body in an aggravated fashion. Nothing made the Soul Elemental feel quite as alive as this moment, power surging through his very being, yet it was becoming unfulfilling. He frowned, not dwelling on the feeling as he exited the small room, entering the main mass of the building. From all sides came an assault of noise and bright lights as he plowed his way through the crowded night club. Eyes turned to follow the pulsing blue energy that emanated from his figure all the way out the door.
Name: Krieg (and/formerly Cyril)
Alias/title:
Age: Unknown (around 40 before dying, about 2 years after coming back)
Gender: Male
Race: Decaying-Cyborg (formerly human)
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Physical description: Krieg has a yellow-ish skin, a bald head and is significanty taller than a normal human, although those will be the last things you will notice about him. If your eyes are not staring at his metal mask, covering his whole face with only two small holes for his eyes, you surely are gazing at the enourmous blade that is replacing his right hand and forearm, and that's probably the smartest option.
If you survive long enough, you might be able to notice that this terrifying abomination is extremely fit (at least for the undead standarts), although his brawny body has two small cracks, betraying his Decaying condition to the world, one on his chest and other on his stomach.
He's usually seem around wearing only a pair of ragged pants, with no shirt or shoes.
Personality: Krieg is a strange piece of work to anyone with an outside perspective. He is mentally instable, being extremely impulsive and violent at times, while being calmer and almost docile on much rares times. He has a split personality, a consequence of the two voices in his head. While one, his original one (Cyril), is calm, caring and peaceful, the other one (Krieg) is a completely insane psycho, who kills things for nothing but the fun and the feeling of the blood splatering in his body. However, both his personalities have similar tastes. Both like flowers and furry little animals, Cyril because they bring him memories of his old life, tending his garden and his pets, while Krieg like them because they are pretty. Krieg has a fear of sharp, pointy things, mostly because they remind him of the little he still remembers from the experiments made on him. Not that this fear will make him cower from someone using a sword, in fact, those are going to be his primary target.
Another deep fear of Krieg and Cyril is fire. Cyril has a chilhood trauma, and Krieg was burned time and time again during his creation.
Most of the time, Krieg controls the body, as he is the original owner. However, in given circunstances, Cyril is capable of overcoming Krieg's will. In the heat of battle Cyril is never able to do that, at most, he can give Krieg slightly better ideas on how to approach the battle. In calmer situations, as when walking around town, Krieg usually allows Cyril to take over quite easily, for he has learned that it's better this way.
Both can speak whenever they want, as the other is usually unable to prevent it, leading to possible awkward or dangerous scenarios.
Krieg LOVES shinny things.
Skills:
Hand-to-Hand combat (in Krieg's case, Hand-to-HugeMetalBlade)
Basic Combat tactics (Thankfully to Cyril and his ocasional inputs)
Cooking (Living of the land has little perks, learning to turn those mushrooms and that dog in delicous food is one of them)
Scavenging (Krieg LOVES shinny things)
Traits:
Class: Berserker:
Berserkers are not as disciplined as Soldiers, or as charming as Knights. Neither are they witty as Skirmishers or even battle hardened as the common Warriors. Berserkers are something else entirely. Those bloodthirsty madmen are the physical manifestation of the most haunting aspects of a Warrior. They will charge into battle with reckless abandon, and anything in their path is as good as dead. They won't stop until they are the last man standing. Berserkers are not team players in a fight and are better left at a respectable distance of his companions, as they might mistake a friend for an enemy and end up injurying them.
Despite this blood drunk state, they are the most fearsome oponent a horde of enemies can face. Striving when at a disadvantage, they can witstand otherwise unbearable amounts of pain while dishing out a whole lot of punishment in return.
Job: Scavenger: After fleeing from his creator, Krieg found himself into a weird land. He survives by hunting, scavenging and, when Cyril is not able to stop him, killing and looting passersby. He often goes on killing sprees on the wild life or bandit camps in order to absorb their souls to hold his body together.
Soul Spells/Abilities:
Soulthirst (passive): Whenever Krieg wounds someone with his blade, a small fraction of the enemy's soul is absorbed by him. This occurs as his blade absorbing the soul through the blood of his enemies. Obviously does not work on bloodless enemies.
Subdermal implants (passive): Due to the extensive experiments done to his body, a subdermal sheet of metal has been placed under his skin to hold it together. This prevents him from some of the damage of cutting and piercing weapons, as well as protecting him from suffering major damage with fire. However, the experiments needed to make sure the implant worked made Krieg extremely afraid of sharp/pointy things and fire.
Brawn over brain (active/only in battle): Krieg is able to numb his mind to the pain of anything for a few minutes, however, during this time, Cyril will suffer twice the amount of pain, rendering him unnable to give Krieg commands.
Painful payback (active/only in battle AND near death): After taking a considerable amount of damage, Krieg is infuriated, defying death while he fights with twice the vigor for a short while. He ignores all the damage, even if fatal, for a few moments, only to receive it all at once by the end of the duration. During the duration, his attacks are much stronger. If he kills someone during this period, the damage taken is half healed, in exchange of a big strain to his soul.
Weapons: Tech Blade: A 2 ft blade that replaces most of Krieg's right forearm and hand. It can partially absorb enemies souls. Cannot be removed.
Armor/soul tech gear: No matter how much Cyril insists, Krieg cannot stand armor or anything slowing him down. Instead he rellies in his subdermal implants to mitigate damage. It can only be improved by Cyborg specialists.
Relationships/family: None.
History:
Alias/title:
Age: Unknown (around 40 before dying, about 2 years after coming back)
Gender: Male
Race: Decaying-Cyborg (formerly human)
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Physical description: Krieg has a yellow-ish skin, a bald head and is significanty taller than a normal human, although those will be the last things you will notice about him. If your eyes are not staring at his metal mask, covering his whole face with only two small holes for his eyes, you surely are gazing at the enourmous blade that is replacing his right hand and forearm, and that's probably the smartest option.
If you survive long enough, you might be able to notice that this terrifying abomination is extremely fit (at least for the undead standarts), although his brawny body has two small cracks, betraying his Decaying condition to the world, one on his chest and other on his stomach.
He's usually seem around wearing only a pair of ragged pants, with no shirt or shoes.
Personality: Krieg is a strange piece of work to anyone with an outside perspective. He is mentally instable, being extremely impulsive and violent at times, while being calmer and almost docile on much rares times. He has a split personality, a consequence of the two voices in his head. While one, his original one (Cyril), is calm, caring and peaceful, the other one (Krieg) is a completely insane psycho, who kills things for nothing but the fun and the feeling of the blood splatering in his body. However, both his personalities have similar tastes. Both like flowers and furry little animals, Cyril because they bring him memories of his old life, tending his garden and his pets, while Krieg like them because they are pretty. Krieg has a fear of sharp, pointy things, mostly because they remind him of the little he still remembers from the experiments made on him. Not that this fear will make him cower from someone using a sword, in fact, those are going to be his primary target.
Another deep fear of Krieg and Cyril is fire. Cyril has a chilhood trauma, and Krieg was burned time and time again during his creation.
Most of the time, Krieg controls the body, as he is the original owner. However, in given circunstances, Cyril is capable of overcoming Krieg's will. In the heat of battle Cyril is never able to do that, at most, he can give Krieg slightly better ideas on how to approach the battle. In calmer situations, as when walking around town, Krieg usually allows Cyril to take over quite easily, for he has learned that it's better this way.
Both can speak whenever they want, as the other is usually unable to prevent it, leading to possible awkward or dangerous scenarios.
Krieg LOVES shinny things.
Skills:
Hand-to-Hand combat (in Krieg's case, Hand-to-HugeMetalBlade)
Basic Combat tactics (Thankfully to Cyril and his ocasional inputs)
Cooking (Living of the land has little perks, learning to turn those mushrooms and that dog in delicous food is one of them)
Scavenging (Krieg LOVES shinny things)
Traits:
Class: Berserker:
Berserkers are not as disciplined as Soldiers, or as charming as Knights. Neither are they witty as Skirmishers or even battle hardened as the common Warriors. Berserkers are something else entirely. Those bloodthirsty madmen are the physical manifestation of the most haunting aspects of a Warrior. They will charge into battle with reckless abandon, and anything in their path is as good as dead. They won't stop until they are the last man standing. Berserkers are not team players in a fight and are better left at a respectable distance of his companions, as they might mistake a friend for an enemy and end up injurying them.
Despite this blood drunk state, they are the most fearsome oponent a horde of enemies can face. Striving when at a disadvantage, they can witstand otherwise unbearable amounts of pain while dishing out a whole lot of punishment in return.
Job: Scavenger: After fleeing from his creator, Krieg found himself into a weird land. He survives by hunting, scavenging and, when Cyril is not able to stop him, killing and looting passersby. He often goes on killing sprees on the wild life or bandit camps in order to absorb their souls to hold his body together.
Soul Spells/Abilities:
Soulthirst (passive): Whenever Krieg wounds someone with his blade, a small fraction of the enemy's soul is absorbed by him. This occurs as his blade absorbing the soul through the blood of his enemies. Obviously does not work on bloodless enemies.
Subdermal implants (passive): Due to the extensive experiments done to his body, a subdermal sheet of metal has been placed under his skin to hold it together. This prevents him from some of the damage of cutting and piercing weapons, as well as protecting him from suffering major damage with fire. However, the experiments needed to make sure the implant worked made Krieg extremely afraid of sharp/pointy things and fire.
Brawn over brain (active/only in battle): Krieg is able to numb his mind to the pain of anything for a few minutes, however, during this time, Cyril will suffer twice the amount of pain, rendering him unnable to give Krieg commands.
Painful payback (active/only in battle AND near death): After taking a considerable amount of damage, Krieg is infuriated, defying death while he fights with twice the vigor for a short while. He ignores all the damage, even if fatal, for a few moments, only to receive it all at once by the end of the duration. During the duration, his attacks are much stronger. If he kills someone during this period, the damage taken is half healed, in exchange of a big strain to his soul.
Weapons: Tech Blade: A 2 ft blade that replaces most of Krieg's right forearm and hand. It can partially absorb enemies souls. Cannot be removed.
Armor/soul tech gear: No matter how much Cyril insists, Krieg cannot stand armor or anything slowing him down. Instead he rellies in his subdermal implants to mitigate damage. It can only be improved by Cyborg specialists.
Relationships/family: None.
History:
Cyril:
For many years Cyril lived a simple life. His childhood was a simple one, but he never knew what hunger was. When he was a teen he had a few love interests, a bastard son with a common girl was the result of one of them. The kid was nothing special, and neither Cyril nor the mother never felt the need to introduce the boy to his father. However, whenever he got the chance, Cyril would go up to Mia's mountain to pray for his son's well being. Not because any particula devotion to the goddess or what she stood for, afterall war, fairness, women, and birth weren't particularly good reasons to pray. He went there for the convinience, as he lived half a day walk away.
As an adult, his life was just as simple. Collect rare or uncommon items, sell them for the highest price anyone was willing to pay, read a few books about wars of the past, visit the tavern and sleep. Occasionally he'd visit Mia's mountain, both to pray for his son wellbeing and to scavenge for any items left behind.
In one of those visits, he came across a small shack he had never seen before. Despite it's simple appearence, his guts told him something valuable might be inside. So he cautiously entered through the door. After a few minutes, he knew for sure his guts were once again right. Various rare books were scattered around the dorm room. As one would expect, most of them were old and were in a bad state, but they would still grant him enough money to drink and maybe visit a few whores for a long time.
It was late night when Cyril had finally left the shack with his large sack filled with books. He had not taken three steps when something blunt hit him in his head. His last memory was of a man in a red tunnic dragging him.
For many years Cyril lived a simple life. His childhood was a simple one, but he never knew what hunger was. When he was a teen he had a few love interests, a bastard son with a common girl was the result of one of them. The kid was nothing special, and neither Cyril nor the mother never felt the need to introduce the boy to his father. However, whenever he got the chance, Cyril would go up to Mia's mountain to pray for his son's well being. Not because any particula devotion to the goddess or what she stood for, afterall war, fairness, women, and birth weren't particularly good reasons to pray. He went there for the convinience, as he lived half a day walk away.
As an adult, his life was just as simple. Collect rare or uncommon items, sell them for the highest price anyone was willing to pay, read a few books about wars of the past, visit the tavern and sleep. Occasionally he'd visit Mia's mountain, both to pray for his son wellbeing and to scavenge for any items left behind.
In one of those visits, he came across a small shack he had never seen before. Despite it's simple appearence, his guts told him something valuable might be inside. So he cautiously entered through the door. After a few minutes, he knew for sure his guts were once again right. Various rare books were scattered around the dorm room. As one would expect, most of them were old and were in a bad state, but they would still grant him enough money to drink and maybe visit a few whores for a long time.
It was late night when Cyril had finally left the shack with his large sack filled with books. He had not taken three steps when something blunt hit him in his head. His last memory was of a man in a red tunnic dragging him.
Krieg:
Krieg had always been a problem child. He picked fights all the time with kids his age, he picked fights with his father, he stole every piece of shinning metal that got close to his fingers. His favourite pass time was to kill rabid dogs that would attack the city's market, for what the only time they would allow him to use a real blade. It was not without relief that his parents gave him away to a mercenary group that passed through the city.
Krieg was happy to join their ranks, even if his only payment was his food and whatever he could loot after the other mercenaries had their turn. But that was not the only thing he was getting of that group, those rude men were also teaching him to fight.
As Krieg learned how to fight, he grew on his ranks, becoming a respected merceany on his own. None of his companions were examples of high morals, but Krieg's deeds were able to, most of the times, make even those hardened and bloodthirsty soldiers disgusted by him. After a particularly gory night, they decided that Krieg wasn't safe to be around and decided to kill him.
It was a though fight, Krieg managed to take out most of the mercenary group on his own, but was soon overwhelmed. Instead of finishing the job, they left him to die on the ground. His arm was cut right below the elbow and was bleeding copiously. He had to major wounds on his chest and stomach where swords pierced him. His face was deformed due to the blunt trauma of firsts, pommels and boots. His world was blurry and quickly fading.
Before passing out, all he could see was a shadowy figure dressed in red.
Krieg had always been a problem child. He picked fights all the time with kids his age, he picked fights with his father, he stole every piece of shinning metal that got close to his fingers. His favourite pass time was to kill rabid dogs that would attack the city's market, for what the only time they would allow him to use a real blade. It was not without relief that his parents gave him away to a mercenary group that passed through the city.
Krieg was happy to join their ranks, even if his only payment was his food and whatever he could loot after the other mercenaries had their turn. But that was not the only thing he was getting of that group, those rude men were also teaching him to fight.
As Krieg learned how to fight, he grew on his ranks, becoming a respected merceany on his own. None of his companions were examples of high morals, but Krieg's deeds were able to, most of the times, make even those hardened and bloodthirsty soldiers disgusted by him. After a particularly gory night, they decided that Krieg wasn't safe to be around and decided to kill him.
It was a though fight, Krieg managed to take out most of the mercenary group on his own, but was soon overwhelmed. Instead of finishing the job, they left him to die on the ground. His arm was cut right below the elbow and was bleeding copiously. He had to major wounds on his chest and stomach where swords pierced him. His face was deformed due to the blunt trauma of firsts, pommels and boots. His world was blurry and quickly fading.
Before passing out, all he could see was a shadowy figure dressed in red.
Krieg woke up on a lab. His whole body tied to a surgery table. On front of him a man in red tunic stared at a glowing object. Krieg felt different. Rage, pain, despair, anger, happiness. It was all coming to him at once. He couldn't control his thoughts. He couldn't control his emotions. He wanted to scream, but his throath was way too sore for it. All it came out was a low croak.
A voice that wasn't his echoed in his head"Shut up, will you? If he sees you're awake he will begin new experiments. Now shut up and listen. My name is Cyril. I'm trapped in your body. You died and was brought back to life, they made some experiments on you. You were asleep, but I was awake. I believe my soul has been trap...".
"AAAAARGHHH" Krieg screamed. Not because of pain. Not out of despair. He just couldn't control himself. The red figure looked at him, with a broad smile uppon his face.
"I knew you would eventually wake up. You put up quite a fight, didn't you? Do you hear someone in your head? I sure hope you do! You have no idea how many times I failed it already. Getting rescuable bodies is getting harder and harder. At least most of your soul could be savaged."
"NOOO. Want go. Free me" Krieg couldn't believe he wasn't even able to articulate his words. He knew he was capable, but his mind just wouldn't cooperate for long enough for him to do so.
"Ohh where are my manners? I am... Actually, my name doesn't matter and, in case something goes wrong, you better off not knowing. Let me explain WHAT I am, as it's more important." The man wouldn't stop talking. He talked fast in a weird accent, but Krieg couldn't figure it out. Cyril knew the man had some Android accent, and, as Cyril knew, now Krieg knew. "I'm working on the creation of a new breed. Two souls, one vessel. Those fake souls of this Android people can do the trick easier, but they last long. The body rejects it, it fights the other soul. It's a mess. You're lucky you managed to get killed some time after I discovered that". The man would ramble on and on. Krieg had a severe headache, and then a voice he didn't controlled came out of his mouth.
"Look, Doc. I have no idea what you want from us, just tell us what you want us to do and we will leave"
"Ohh Cyril! I knew you was in there. Here is the thing. I NEED you here. I can't afford you to go out and reveal my work. Besides, Krieg's mind is all kinds of fucked up by now. He's not stable and might kill someone. Or an entire city. Thinking about it, it might have been a bad idea to replace his lost hand with that blade, but what can I do now? I reworked his entire skeleton to addapt to it! Anyway, I have more things to test on you guys, then I can probably let you die and have peace. Well, probably."
"We're fucked" both Krieg and Cyril thought at the same time.
-
One year passed. Krieg was as unstable as ever. Being a Decaying had it's perks, but Krieg couldn't stand still for long enough to perform a ritual to absorb a soul, so the Doctor put some soul tech on his sword to allow him to absorb souls through the blade. As long as anything had blood, it's soul could be drained. If he could kill something every other day, he'd be fine.
Tests were made. Krieg was put to kill things while Cyril gave commands. Krieg was pierced and cut a hundred times. To avoid having his test subject destroyed, the doctor put some subdermal implants Krieg's body, granting him enough resistance to fight different kinds of beats and beings without worrying about dying to a lucky blow, while making sure he couldn't slack. To avoid getting him to cower in fear, he removed most of Krieg's nervous terminals. To avoid him getting burned in two particularly specific cases, he upgraded the implants to give Krieg fire resistance. He turned Krieg into a perfect killing weapon and Cyril, from so much experience in giving commands became an experienced strategist.
Another year later They were still captive, but Krieg had learned to trust in Cyril, and Cyril became the only one to properly understand the now completely disturbed mind of Krieg. On a rainny day, Krieg managed to catch a glimpse of the Doctors quarters. In there he saw all he was looking for in the past two years: an open window. A path outside. The task was hard, as there would be souless androids defending the way out, but Cyril was sure Krieg could handle them. The doctor was sitting at his watching platform guarded by his souless guards. They pair wouldn't be able to take vengeance on the Doctor, but a free path outside was more than enough to make things better.
Cyril quicky gave Krieg his instructions and, as usual, Krieg obeyed them without question. The two androids were an easy task. Cyril felt like they were in a trap, but before bein able to warn his partner, two eletric lances were introduced in Krieg's body.
Krieg couldn't handle the pain. It was too much for him. Enraged, he tried to move and tried to forget the pain. Suddenly, it was gone. Meanwhile Cyril was screaming. In the last two years, Krieg was the only one to feel pain, but Cyril was sure that his partner never felt something like this. Every second felt like an enternity in hell.
Krieg tried to listen to Cyril advices as always, but he was nowhere to be heard. He then did what he knew best. Killed. Every robot, android, experiment or passerby. He didn't knew how many he had killed, but he was sure that he jumped out of that window. And killed a big repitilian thing. And something pierced his whole body. Not good.
He fell in a river and swimmed away as fast as he could before passing out. At Cyril was coming back. As desperate as he was being in a river in a unconcious body, he couldn't avoid to feel some relief on being free once again.
A voice that wasn't his echoed in his head"Shut up, will you? If he sees you're awake he will begin new experiments. Now shut up and listen. My name is Cyril. I'm trapped in your body. You died and was brought back to life, they made some experiments on you. You were asleep, but I was awake. I believe my soul has been trap...".
"AAAAARGHHH" Krieg screamed. Not because of pain. Not out of despair. He just couldn't control himself. The red figure looked at him, with a broad smile uppon his face.
"I knew you would eventually wake up. You put up quite a fight, didn't you? Do you hear someone in your head? I sure hope you do! You have no idea how many times I failed it already. Getting rescuable bodies is getting harder and harder. At least most of your soul could be savaged."
"NOOO. Want go. Free me" Krieg couldn't believe he wasn't even able to articulate his words. He knew he was capable, but his mind just wouldn't cooperate for long enough for him to do so.
"Ohh where are my manners? I am... Actually, my name doesn't matter and, in case something goes wrong, you better off not knowing. Let me explain WHAT I am, as it's more important." The man wouldn't stop talking. He talked fast in a weird accent, but Krieg couldn't figure it out. Cyril knew the man had some Android accent, and, as Cyril knew, now Krieg knew. "I'm working on the creation of a new breed. Two souls, one vessel. Those fake souls of this Android people can do the trick easier, but they last long. The body rejects it, it fights the other soul. It's a mess. You're lucky you managed to get killed some time after I discovered that". The man would ramble on and on. Krieg had a severe headache, and then a voice he didn't controlled came out of his mouth.
"Look, Doc. I have no idea what you want from us, just tell us what you want us to do and we will leave"
"Ohh Cyril! I knew you was in there. Here is the thing. I NEED you here. I can't afford you to go out and reveal my work. Besides, Krieg's mind is all kinds of fucked up by now. He's not stable and might kill someone. Or an entire city. Thinking about it, it might have been a bad idea to replace his lost hand with that blade, but what can I do now? I reworked his entire skeleton to addapt to it! Anyway, I have more things to test on you guys, then I can probably let you die and have peace. Well, probably."
"We're fucked" both Krieg and Cyril thought at the same time.
-
One year passed. Krieg was as unstable as ever. Being a Decaying had it's perks, but Krieg couldn't stand still for long enough to perform a ritual to absorb a soul, so the Doctor put some soul tech on his sword to allow him to absorb souls through the blade. As long as anything had blood, it's soul could be drained. If he could kill something every other day, he'd be fine.
Tests were made. Krieg was put to kill things while Cyril gave commands. Krieg was pierced and cut a hundred times. To avoid having his test subject destroyed, the doctor put some subdermal implants Krieg's body, granting him enough resistance to fight different kinds of beats and beings without worrying about dying to a lucky blow, while making sure he couldn't slack. To avoid getting him to cower in fear, he removed most of Krieg's nervous terminals. To avoid him getting burned in two particularly specific cases, he upgraded the implants to give Krieg fire resistance. He turned Krieg into a perfect killing weapon and Cyril, from so much experience in giving commands became an experienced strategist.
Another year later They were still captive, but Krieg had learned to trust in Cyril, and Cyril became the only one to properly understand the now completely disturbed mind of Krieg. On a rainny day, Krieg managed to catch a glimpse of the Doctors quarters. In there he saw all he was looking for in the past two years: an open window. A path outside. The task was hard, as there would be souless androids defending the way out, but Cyril was sure Krieg could handle them. The doctor was sitting at his watching platform guarded by his souless guards. They pair wouldn't be able to take vengeance on the Doctor, but a free path outside was more than enough to make things better.
Cyril quicky gave Krieg his instructions and, as usual, Krieg obeyed them without question. The two androids were an easy task. Cyril felt like they were in a trap, but before bein able to warn his partner, two eletric lances were introduced in Krieg's body.
Krieg couldn't handle the pain. It was too much for him. Enraged, he tried to move and tried to forget the pain. Suddenly, it was gone. Meanwhile Cyril was screaming. In the last two years, Krieg was the only one to feel pain, but Cyril was sure that his partner never felt something like this. Every second felt like an enternity in hell.
Krieg tried to listen to Cyril advices as always, but he was nowhere to be heard. He then did what he knew best. Killed. Every robot, android, experiment or passerby. He didn't knew how many he had killed, but he was sure that he jumped out of that window. And killed a big repitilian thing. And something pierced his whole body. Not good.
He fell in a river and swimmed away as fast as he could before passing out. At Cyril was coming back. As desperate as he was being in a river in a unconcious body, he couldn't avoid to feel some relief on being free once again.
The Abomination
character
Name: Valask
Alias/title: The Abomination
Age:
Gender: Male
Race:
soul-purist (decaying)
current body- horned people (cyberized)
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral/ Neutral good.current body- horned people (cyberized)
Description:
Personality:
abilities
Skills:
- Hunting, tracking & trapping
- Cyborg surgery
- Stealth
Class: Monster hunter
Job: Cyborg surgeon
Soul Spells/Abilities:
Soul tech aids these abilities, they are about as easy to use and as draining to him as holding his own breath.
Quick activation, limited time,
- Fade into shadows. (Visual disorientation field)
Become harder to see, works best in darkness but also in light. An invisible disorientation field that compels the mind to pass over and ignore the disturbance.
The blur in your peripheral, that one corner of the room you just haven't looked at. Amplified by actual stealth skill and hiding. - Sound suppression.As expected, manipulates the air so any sounds created within a tight radius are muffled out and suppressed. Loud noises escape at a softer level.
External sounds still enter, they are softer but still recognisable due to fully surrounding the suppression bubble. - Eagle eyeIncreases sight by enhancing focus, attention to detail, peripheral and distance. Soul tech connects to the brain to enhance the processing speed of identifying and analysing the images. Reasoning for limited time use.
equipment
Weapons:
- Chain Whip
- Bladed retractable Staff, wrist mounted Crossbows (grappling/spear attachments w' steel cabling)
Armor/soul tech gear:
- Head: Hooded cloak
- Chest: Cloth Tunic
- Gauntlets: Worn fingerless Leather Gloves
- Rerebraces: N/A
- Vambraces: N/A
- Flauds: N/A
- Greaves: Tattered Cloth Pants
- Boots: None
Vehicle/pet:
past
Relationships:
good
As close as good will get is Selena.
Sister to the previous owner of the body he now occupies. She dislikes him greatly and her mannerism and attitude proves that consistently, but she took the time to teach him how to fight and survive. Regardless how sad, angry or unhappy she is about the situation, she still see's part of her brother and reluctantly helps in little ways.
Sister to the previous owner of the body he now occupies. She dislikes him greatly and her mannerism and attitude proves that consistently, but she took the time to teach him how to fight and survive. Regardless how sad, angry or unhappy she is about the situation, she still see's part of her brother and reluctantly helps in little ways.
Un-accepting of her husbands fate she accused the creature of breaking and entering, theft and murder. Using all his own resources against him she put out an arrest warrant and bounty on the decaying horned mans head.
They find his cybernetics to be a betrayal and insult to their customs and ideals.
Traders, interested in parts from the animals he hunts and his skill as a cyborg surgeon, they have a thin mutual beneficial relationship.
Proven to be less bias then most living creatures.
Valask was born a Purist, an only child to well off parents. They devoted everything to his success in life and died of age in his middle years.
Valask's success ended the day he became one of the Decaying.
Taking the body of a horned person to escape his own he has since continued his profession and cyberized it.
He is now a rogue beast hunter. Hunting monsters for their souls to sustain his own. Unwilling to drain humans.
In generalisation he is an outcast from most other civilisations.
Even when his 'Decaying' status is hidden, he is shunned by purists for his horned body. Out right hated by other horned people for his cybernetic implants and attachments. The elementals seem to be savvy of his decaying nature and spare him no trust.
He has forgone his previous luxuries and now fights just to survive.
Valask once had it all, the beautiful wife, large central apartment, renown reputation, friends in high places, enough credits to squander. He was important and respected. Life was good, life was easy.
In his past life he was a cybernetic surgeon, and a good one at that.
But somewhere in his career he saved someone that other people didn't want saved. He saved many lives with cybernetic implants but unfortunately there are those out there who feel strongly against the practise and even those who weren't too happy to become cyborgs, preferring instead to just die.
Either way his expertise in his field of work and lavish lifestyle eventually lead him to deal with a few unsavoury characters, and for reasons still unknown one day he vanished into a black bag and later woke up beaten and dying in a shallow muddy grave.
Left for dead it was a horned man who was digging him out. It was unclear what happened next but he will forever remember that look deep within the eyes of that majestic creature. There was a serene acceptance, a silent wisdom, a humble forgiveness.
Next he was looking into his own bloodshot swollen eyes as he held his own half buried lifeless body in large new muddy hands.
He had never thought much of the naturist horned people, simply dismissing their ideals as primitive and weak. He considered them less advanced.
Technology was the future, technology was power.
But now, he was one of the horned people, and something more...
Or less.
He was unlike other decaying, something the horned one had done. He also had no interest or intent in stealing any other body but the one he was in now.
In his new form he was unstable and weak of strength. He stumbled aimlessly for days slipping in and out of consciousness. Eventually there was noise of civilisation and it drew him towards it.
At first sight upon realising he had stumbled upon a settlement of horned people he was gravely disappointed. Remembering he was now one only worried him more.
{prologue: meeting Selena}
Soon he discovered he could harness life from other creatures and he began working his way up the food chain.
Along the way he trained in martial weapons and hunting tools. All the whilst he was also adapting to and training his new mind and body.
Back at full strength he tried to return home. He was less than welcomed. He was abused, berated, accused of lying and worse. No one would accept his story or could accept him. Back in civilisation there were few animal souls to satisfy his decaying hunger and his masquerade fell as cracks began to show.
Things became complicated, violent and very messy! Minimising injury to others he took a lot of damage to himself. His new body handled it surprisingly well but still he lost some functionality. That's when he returned to what he knew best. Cybernetics... Hidden away in a forgotten lab he worked on himself tirelessly. Time after time again. Many attempts being unsuccessful until he cracked the secret for integrating tech into a decaying horned one.
Shunned from his past life he tried to return to his new, but now with cybernetics he found they wanted no part of the creature he had become.
His very presence was an insult.
Barely tolerated before, now they wanted his death. Selena only just managed to pardon his execution opting for permanent exile instead.
So he left, a lone wanderer, an abomination, a monster hunter.
Then the call of the child came and without reason he answered.
In his past life he was a cybernetic surgeon, and a good one at that.
But somewhere in his career he saved someone that other people didn't want saved. He saved many lives with cybernetic implants but unfortunately there are those out there who feel strongly against the practise and even those who weren't too happy to become cyborgs, preferring instead to just die.
Either way his expertise in his field of work and lavish lifestyle eventually lead him to deal with a few unsavoury characters, and for reasons still unknown one day he vanished into a black bag and later woke up beaten and dying in a shallow muddy grave.
Left for dead it was a horned man who was digging him out. It was unclear what happened next but he will forever remember that look deep within the eyes of that majestic creature. There was a serene acceptance, a silent wisdom, a humble forgiveness.
Next he was looking into his own bloodshot swollen eyes as he held his own half buried lifeless body in large new muddy hands.
He had never thought much of the naturist horned people, simply dismissing their ideals as primitive and weak. He considered them less advanced.
Technology was the future, technology was power.
But now, he was one of the horned people, and something more...
Or less.
He was unlike other decaying, something the horned one had done. He also had no interest or intent in stealing any other body but the one he was in now.
In his new form he was unstable and weak of strength. He stumbled aimlessly for days slipping in and out of consciousness. Eventually there was noise of civilisation and it drew him towards it.
At first sight upon realising he had stumbled upon a settlement of horned people he was gravely disappointed. Remembering he was now one only worried him more.
{prologue: meeting Selena}
Soon he discovered he could harness life from other creatures and he began working his way up the food chain.
Along the way he trained in martial weapons and hunting tools. All the whilst he was also adapting to and training his new mind and body.
Back at full strength he tried to return home. He was less than welcomed. He was abused, berated, accused of lying and worse. No one would accept his story or could accept him. Back in civilisation there were few animal souls to satisfy his decaying hunger and his masquerade fell as cracks began to show.
Things became complicated, violent and very messy! Minimising injury to others he took a lot of damage to himself. His new body handled it surprisingly well but still he lost some functionality. That's when he returned to what he knew best. Cybernetics... Hidden away in a forgotten lab he worked on himself tirelessly. Time after time again. Many attempts being unsuccessful until he cracked the secret for integrating tech into a decaying horned one.
Shunned from his past life he tried to return to his new, but now with cybernetics he found they wanted no part of the creature he had become.
His very presence was an insult.
Barely tolerated before, now they wanted his death. Selena only just managed to pardon his execution opting for permanent exile instead.
So he left, a lone wanderer, an abomination, a monster hunter.
Then the call of the child came and without reason he answered.
Prologue:
A voice sweet, smooth and sturdy, broke the silence of the hundred judging eyes surrounding him. It was strangely filled with a nostalgic familiarity yet remained unrecognisable as never before herd.
"You!" It demanded with an odd gentle assertiveness.
"What is your name?"
She spoke expecting and demanding obedience.
"Valask"
Valask dryly replied without thought, dazed and confused. He thought somehow he had answered wrong or simply his answer displeased the exotic horned woman. Her hand found his throat and she tightly lifted him off his dirt stained knees to a standing position with surprising ease.
So drained and tired he didn't know if he could stand on his own but this woman's confidence was intimidation and her aura inspired fear into Valask's heart. So he found the energy to stand.
"Abomination! I ask you again, what is your name?!"
Valask answered again giving his name more loudly this time. She reciprocated with a sharp blow to his stomach that sent him hunching over to the floor in pain.
Picking him up she questioned him again.
"Horned one, tell me your name!"
Valask tried to answer with his name, he tried to answer with explanations, he tried to answer with truths and lies but every time he was simply viscously struck down, lifted up and re-questioned.
"Avarius Elthandeir" In his last moments of death filled fear the words slipped out on defeated sobbing breaths.
The beatings stopped.
"Just you remember that. Now come, follow me and remain silent."
Valask's mind was full of confusion and questions. He soon learnt better than to openly voice them. As long as he stood by the name 'Avarius Elthandeir' he would live, he would go unharmed and be spared shelter and food.
It was rare that she ever spoke to Valask, but she continued to try talk to her brother Avarius. Valask simply listened and learned, obeyed and followed. Through that she taught him of the creature he was now, of his condition and how to fight to survive.
"You!" It demanded with an odd gentle assertiveness.
"What is your name?"
She spoke expecting and demanding obedience.
"Valask"
Valask dryly replied without thought, dazed and confused. He thought somehow he had answered wrong or simply his answer displeased the exotic horned woman. Her hand found his throat and she tightly lifted him off his dirt stained knees to a standing position with surprising ease.
So drained and tired he didn't know if he could stand on his own but this woman's confidence was intimidation and her aura inspired fear into Valask's heart. So he found the energy to stand.
"Abomination! I ask you again, what is your name?!"
Valask answered again giving his name more loudly this time. She reciprocated with a sharp blow to his stomach that sent him hunching over to the floor in pain.
Picking him up she questioned him again.
"Horned one, tell me your name!"
Valask tried to answer with his name, he tried to answer with explanations, he tried to answer with truths and lies but every time he was simply viscously struck down, lifted up and re-questioned.
"Avarius Elthandeir" In his last moments of death filled fear the words slipped out on defeated sobbing breaths.
The beatings stopped.
"Just you remember that. Now come, follow me and remain silent."
Valask's mind was full of confusion and questions. He soon learnt better than to openly voice them. As long as he stood by the name 'Avarius Elthandeir' he would live, he would go unharmed and be spared shelter and food.
It was rare that she ever spoke to Valask, but she continued to try talk to her brother Avarius. Valask simply listened and learned, obeyed and followed. Through that she taught him of the creature he was now, of his condition and how to fight to survive.
The Blasphemy
"The Blasphemy"
Name:
Verrian Zylo
Alias/title:
The Blasphemy
Age:
???
Gender:
Male
Race:
Lightning Soul Elemental / Cyborg
Alignment:
Lawful Good
Description:
6'8" tall, weighs just over 300 lbs.
Personality:
Zylo is a simple being of simple taste. He is known for an intense passion in that which he believes in, and has a strict adherence to his sense of right. One such thing he believes passionately in is perfection -he believes that the road to perfection is through becoming at one with one's soul and that all are capable of reaching perfection should they put their best effort into it. Because he believes that he is so very close to perfection on his own, he considers himself far above others, though not in an arrogant fashion. Rather, he pities those he believes to be below him, and wishes to assist their journey to perfection.
He is not the most charismatic, though he is not especially awkward either. Zylo is compassionate and loyal to those who earn it, and believes in love and respect for all, even those who wrong him. This respect is admittedly diluted in respect to the undead or decaying. That being said, forgiveness is always an option in the mind of Zylo, as he has mastered his temper. Zylo tends to be a bit bullheaded -especially in reference to his own beliefs in his soul, though a strong enough argument has been known to persuade him in the past.
Abilities
Skills:
- Soul Abilities
- Piloting/Driving
- Engineering
- Planning
Traits:
-/-
Class:
Warlock-
Similar to a mage, with prominent distinguishing differences. The Warlock focuses less on precision and power of skill, in favor of raw unleashed power in their Soul spells. Rather than the weak venerable physical form expected of a mage, a Warlock is innately tough, throwing themselves into the fray. Though they aren't known for the mages intellectual prowess, they find similarities to the mage in their eschewal of weaponry in combat
Job:
Was previously an engineer, an architect of machinery, until he fully embraced his search for soul perfection. At this point, he became a vagrant wanderer.
Soul Spells:
- Soul Bolt- A blast of soul energy, about as powerful as a small pistol shot. Very little strain on the soul, but can be used as often as he can focus. Requires as much focus as one would take aiming a pistol.
- Soul Rush- Allows a powerful charge, limited in range of about 20 feet, ending in a burst of soul energy. Though it has very little strain, it needs time to cool down after use. He can forego the ending explosion to reduce time required to wait.
- Soul Rend- A touch range attack, that is very weak in terms of damage -rather, it has a massive concussive force behind it, used for repositioning. Little strain, takes the same effort as about 15 minutes of exertion condensed into a second
- Soul Grip- A minor telekinesis, only capable of exerting ~10 lbs. of pressure within line of sight. Little strain, comes as naturally as breathing.
Equipment
Weapons:
-/-
Armor/soul tech gear:
- Head: N/A
- Chest: N/A
- Gauntlets: N/A
- Rerebraces: N/A
- Vambraces: N/A
- Flauds: N/A
- Greaves: N/A
- Boots: N/A
Vehicle/pet:
-/-
Past
Relationships/family:
Long estranged from his family after his path to perfection was undertaken. His fellow soul elementals frowned upon his self-augmentation as a cyborg, though he still sees them as his brothers.
History:
Born and raised a Purist at the beginning of times, he was inducted into a tribe of like minded people who shared one trait in common -a need for power. As such, they shed their mortal skin to truly embrace their souls and become at one with the universe. Or something like that -Zylo only joined the tribe to earn the favor of a woman with whom he was madly in love with.
Upon the shedding of their mortal skin in a ritual whose details remain fuzzy in his mind, Zylo's life improved tenfold. He felt power surge within him unlike anything before, but even moreso, his love pledged her love for him in return. Zylo truly held hope that the two of them would live till the end of the universe took them both in fiery passion.
This of course, was not the case. One day, a Decaying Horned One took the life of his lover in the hopes of restoring his soul. Zylo did not take this well, pledging a year of his life hunting down the Decaying Horned One who had brought him so much grief. After hunting throughout the planet for what seemed all too long, he was on the brink of surrender, when he found the clue that lead him to the murderer of his love. Zylo's revenge was bloody, prolonged, and all too excessive. While the spirit of the law saw his vengeance as justified, the letter of the law felt it necessary to lock up Zylo for his destructive tendencies.
Upon his release, Zylo resigned to a life of peace, leaving behind his past of power hunger. After picking up skills in the field from an old friend, Zylo spent his days in the field of engineering -mostly building and maintaining vehicles. This lead him to become acquainted with others in the field, and as technology advanced past ancient soul tech, he learned the ways of building newer soul tech.
An unfortunate turn of events ended in Zylo's shop burning to the ground. Realizing that he simply didn't have the power to fend off a largely growing threat of Decaying creatures, he turned back to his old ways of endlessly seeking power. In this, he built the suit of encapsulating soul tech he wears today. After improving his personal destruction capabilities, Zylo went on a witchhunt of sorts, wishing to take out his aggression on undead of any sort.
After this ended in near fatal injury, Zylo took a hiatus to recover before he turned his eyes. Going on a long pilgrimage of many years, he visited the mountain of each of the Eleven Mortals in turn, hoping to gain some profound wisdom from these spiritual visitations. It was this that turned him to the idea of self perfection, and the righteous spirit he hosts today.
Prologue:
The dead silence of the room was only broken by the mechanical whirring of slowly shifting joints and a slowly pulsating buzz of raw energy. Verrian Zylo stood tall, his every joint straining in an effort to make himself appear taller. A trio of dark forms were crouched before the Soul Elemental, blue skin cracked like stone after years of wear. They held themselves low to the ground, bodies eerily still. Between the two parties was a smoking corpse, similar in appearance to the group of dark skinned men.
The clear leader stepped forward, long horns curling from his papery skin just above the sunken eyes. A deep guttural noise clawed its way from within the creatures throat, interrupted by a sharp crack in the air. The scent of ozone sprung into being, smoke trailing from a blackened mark now on the floor. Verrian Zylo raised a hand, index and middle finger extended to point directly between the eyes of the decayed one standing before him.
"Consider that your first and only warning." Verrian said, voice rumbling like a thunderstorm rolling through the room. While two of the decrepit figures were smart enough to flee, the leader kept a stony demeanor as he advanced closer. An unearthly screech erupted from the horned figure as he stepped over the smoking husk of his fallen comrade, lunging for the shiny metal exoskeleton of Verrian Zylo. Clawed hands extended from twig-like arms, grasping greedily for anything the overly long nails could find purchase in.
Just as quickly as the screech came out of the creatures mouth, Zylo raised arms of pure crackling electricity to intercept the grasp of the decayed one. The weak creature struggled against the powerful grip as it felt sparks jump across its cracked skin. After a short few seconds of grappling between the two, Zylo let his steely grip go, shoving the creatures arms to it's sides. As the horned figure struggled to regain it's balance, Verrian Zylo raised a single palm, placing it on the creatures chest. A hush fell through the room, as static emanated from both figures. A high pitched whirring sound pierced through the silence, followed by a flash of light.
The horned creature soared across the room, ragdoll body slamming hard into the far wall. He slumped down in the corner, a hand shaped mark burning on his chest, which now rose and fell in ragged breaths. He tried unsuccessfully to stand once, twice, then finally made it up to his knees. As he staggered to his feet, his hands raised over his head in a gesture of surrender.
This gesture was met by Zylo with a deep, crackling laugh, that reverberated through the otherwise empty room. The horned figure had a look of confusion set in his sunken features, that quickly changed to a grimace of pain as another sharp bang sounded out from the outstretched arm of Verrian Zylo, a bolt of electric energy piercing a hole in the stomach of his victim.
BANG
BANG
BANG
Another three noises rocked through the air, each accompanied by a blinding flash of bright blue lightning arcing through the withered body of the decayed horned creature. It fell to it's knees with a pathetic whine, before falling face down. Blood tainted black pooled from the new wounds -one in each eye, and one in the throat. Verrian Zylo turned, electricity excitedly arcing through his body in an aggravated fashion. Nothing made the Soul Elemental feel quite as alive as this moment, power surging through his very being, yet it was becoming unfulfilling. He frowned, not dwelling on the feeling as he exited the small room, entering the main mass of the building. From all sides came an assault of noise and bright lights as he plowed his way through the crowded night club. Eyes turned to follow the pulsing blue energy that emanated from his figure all the way out the door.