~IN THE BEGINNING~
The Old Boar's Inn; Bar
Time: Second Hour and Third Quarter of MiddleDay[Missile/Pullo/Ganti/Kresnik/Locien]As the small banter between both Kresnik and Missile continued, Locien moaned softly. A dark, inaudible mutter passed through his lips as he staggered unevenly to his feet, nearly falling in the process. However, a stomp from his lame leg corrected his drunken struggle, falling once again between his newest companion and the two lovers with a loud belch. “Whew! Gotta love a gargle blaster!” The elf’s head would immediately fall into crossed arms. This, however, would only last a moment, as he spoke in his drunken manner once more, “Though,” An accusing finger jabbed itself in front of Missile’s face from the folded arms, voice muffled due to his covered face, “I don’t appreciate that sass, love.” A sly, charismatic smile would then slowly emerge from his arms, slowly rising as he himself rose, obviously getting a kick from something unknown. “It’s quite rude to give to a bloke without giving your name first.” The bard would heavily plant himself on the bar stool that been neglected, now fully entrenched between Krenik and Missle.
His hat’s bells would tinkle as he looked between both hunter and freak, before looking back to the diclonius, “Don’t mind dark and brooding over there - he tends no like to give details about himself, and he makes a terrible drinking mate.” Smoothly reaching over the counter (but not before glancing in the direction of the swinging doors), Locien produced a small silver flask from the depths of his loose upper garment, “What’s your poison, love?”
++++Old Boar’s Inn; Kuroda’s QuartersTime: Second Hour and Third Quarter of MiddleDay[/center]
[Chad/James]Normally, when people fall into the arms of a blackout, most only remember the ink that swallowed them. However, Chad would only experience the dream of dreams - all of his wishes would have been granted, anything considered insanity would be allowed and all that was wanted, was had.
…At least until the man of the future felt a stinging slap across his face, wrenching him out of his blackout and pulling him back into reality - in which, he found the face of a very unpleasant kitsune. “Wake up,
shōniaisha!” A displeased “tch!” sounded off to Chad’s left from another source as the present kitsune, the one Chad would recognize as the one he had attached his lips to, ignored the hushed outburst.
From a quick glance, Chad would be able to take in a few details - the forest-in-the-room would be clearly around him. The grove of cherry trees gave off a pleasant aroma, clearly announcing that this was no normal room. No true piece of furniture would be present, only the natural foliage. Well, except the golden block that Chad found himself fully swallowed by, only his shoulders up exposed to the bare air; of course, it was a bit drafty since he would realize that not an article of clothing was on his person.
If he looked left, he would see his cowboy companion and another kitsune, dressed in a traditional kimono. James didn’t seem in any immediate danger, but any other detail would be lost as a hand roughly grabbed him by the chin and yanked his eyes to gaze back into the auburn haired fox’s, “Why are you here, shōniasha?!”
If Chad held his tongue, another vicious slap would find itself on the man’s opposite cheek, “Answer me!” The chin would be released in a frustrated state as the voice from the left spoke again, “He’s not going to answer you if you keep beating on him, daughter.”
++++???Time: Second Hour and Third Quarter of MiddleDay[/center]
[Alec]Darkness crept onto the edges of his vision, causing him to fall to his knees and promised a merciful blackout. But Fate had decided not to bestow such a mercy upon Alec. Only more pain and blood would be given, flecks of his bodily liquid spilling on to the melting, mixed snow. Thoughts would be dark for the demigod, as something crept up on him. However, this was no metaphor. A dark presence walked with a demanding air, the strides long and purposeful; yet the steps were impossibly silent. It chilled the air, making the already harsh environment unbearably freezing. The once quiet space began to filled with the singular flapping of a bird, and the distant cry of a crow. If Alec did not look behind him, the being would come closer and closer until it was directly behind him. It stooped to his fallen form. A pure white bill peaked over his shoulder, into his field of vision as a voice, as cold and smooth as ice, crept into his ear, “Ah, Alec Drop Bass. I was wondering when I would find you…”
If Alec made a move to escape, to look behind him, or anything along the lines of defense or survival, the demigod would find himself staring at the unknown figure. He would be clad in a dark coat, the
dark form pacing forward with an umbrella in hand. His mask’s eyes would
glint strangely as his cold voice continued to chase the widower, “Tell me, Alec, do you feel dead?”
++++???; Jeannot’s LabTime: Third Hour of MiddleDayJeannot/FitzThe vigil would be complete. From the depths of Jeannot’s machine, in all of its weaving of muscle and flesh around a skeleton produced from gods know where, there it would be: a specimen of perfect human, untouched by disease or age, almost an identical image of Fitz’s original body. If all went well, and no other further calibrations of the machine or magical application, the body would be Fitz’s to take…
However, if the misplaced god were to enter the soulless body, all would seem well at first. Everything, from the general movement to the general feeling of being in a new body would be perfect - Jeannot had truly protected his art. …Or had he? The soul thief would begin to notice it first, though Fitz would soon catch on. Something was very, very wrong. The body would begin to spasm in the limbs and neck, parts of the flesh would begin to burn away at the sheer entity of Fitz’s natural power. Then, all at once, the body would explode with power, splaying the constructed shell across the walls (and Jeannot) as the god’s power broke free, creating a confined mini explosion that would result catastrophic events. The lab would be half destroyed or badly damaged, some of the machines completely rendered useless, Jeannot hit by flesh, blood, and bone fragment and Fitz would once again be without a vessel…
++++The WildWood; Western Hemisquare, 7-2Time: Second Hour and Third Quarter of MiddleDay[Garret]She tugged playfully at his hand, the fair woman, “Very well.” She would repeat the word, in a whisper, a mischievous smile playing at her lips, “Very well.”
The red clad woman would take meaningful steps, as if a horse on parade, showing her legs with each stride, questions flowing like a babbling brook. “Brave knight, you trust so easily - why is this? Is because you are truly brave, or throughly foolish? Are you even brave as you think? Are you as nervous as you look? As stiff as your stance, or are you simply stanch due your calling? Are you hoping to find rest in this land? Do you want to flee from it as fast as you found yourself in it?”
She would stop suddenly, innocently looking him with her large eyes, turning to him, her body (possibly) uncomfortably
close to his, “Do you like holding my hand?”
++++The Wildwood; 10-5Time: Third Hour of Middle Day[Nihil]The self proclaimed god would successfully teleport to his chosen planet, appearing from thin air and into a field. However, this field was made of a plant Nihil had never seen, its stalks thick and rigid, easily towering over him as if they were trees. To the touch, the would resemble something of plastic, but would easily malleable if the self-proclaimed god felt the need to test their strength. However, he would find that it was not brute force that would cause them to bend, but the gentlest of touches - only then would they part to make room for those who wish to pass by.
Regardless of the plantlife, he would quickly realize his engineers had conveniently placed his white form on a previously trampled area of grass. All around him, it would be virtually impossible to see anything beyond a few feet. However, some landmarks would poke from over the tall stalks. To the north, the tips of buildings, perhaps a tower or fortress of some kind. This construct would be mixed with the tips of mountains and nothing more. In any other direction, there would be nothing but purple sky. The promise of possible civilization beckoned.
However, if more was to be demanded, and if the Malefane could get a better vantage point, more would be promised: to the west, the unusual checked pattern of The Crossroads was painted across the land - a large forest with another field in its wake stretch across the land. In the horizon, an unusual
spiral projected ominously. To the east, a grand tree would be looming over the horizon, with a similar checkered pattern of forest and field stretched before it. To the south, more of the trees and forest. Finally, to the north, mountains and the grandest city the immortal might have seen, was before him. Its walls hugged its base, slowly building its peak.
The conquest had begun, but to where would he go?
++++The Lows; Umbra DistrictTime: Second Hour and Third Quarter of MiddleDay[Nieet]Nieet’s outrage was, honestly, unnerving. Her sudden appearance in a normal solemn area of The Lows gathered much attention. While this wouldn’t be normally a problem, there was an issue - she was doing all of this in the middle of the street. Vehicles and beats of burden moved around her, some drivers screech and swearing at her, while others threatened to completely run her over in the sheer apathetic attitude of The Lows - they had places to go, and they weren’t about to stop for a ranting loon. Dust would be kicked up all around her as some modes of transportation literally brushed by her, causing dirt and other ground-like substances onto her person. If she wasn’t paying attention, a large animal would most definitely have defecated on her head.
All in all, no amount of screaming and ranting at her newly possessed phone was going to get her anywhere. Unbeknownst to her, many dealers that posted their whereabouts on a database were more than likely dead or out of business. She would have to find some other means…
Luckily, fate smiled on The Crossroads’ latest arrival. Across the street, a
stranger called to her, “You! Crazy lady! Come here, I can help you!” It beckoned her out of the street, juuuust one problem - the sea of vehicles that laid between Nieet and the stranger…
