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[CHAR] A Patchwork World [Worldbuilding and Exploration]
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yoshua171 The Loremaster
Member
Seen
5 hrs ago
Nicknames: Yosh. Don't call me Yoshi or Yoshy please.
RP Timeline: I've been Rping for 6 years or so.
Preferred Pronouns: Male pronouns haha.
Preferred Genres: High Fantasy, Dark Fantasy, Modern Fantasy(not often), and some Fandoms.
Participation Type: Unbound. As a Loremaster I am all three categories in one.
Roleplay Sample: His travels taking him from a small town in Nymia and across the oceans themselves, Fennec could be considered a world traveler or a vagabond perhaps. The labels both did and did not matter to him, he found, as how people saw him was important in a way that it wasn't for most. The abstract was what he dealt in, and the way people perceived him very much shaped their interactions and those things with which he could tamper during such.
Casting his mind adrift as the ocean winds swept his robes one way, then another, Fennec pondered what he was to do when he arrived in Vostira. He knew it was a necessary stop because of Elephel, his familiar who had told him as much, guiding him as the Fae often did. Still, Elephel had not known exactly why it was necessary and so neither did the mage. Sighing and closing his eyes, Fennec pulled away from the ship's mast, which he had been using for support, and headed to his cabin, stepping down the stairs into the lower levels of the small vessel.
It would be a long journey, but it would be a worthwhile one. They always were, even despite, the burden of karma on his shoulders. Perhaps this new land, though he'd heard plenty of news about it, would help to ease that burden, perhaps even lift it. He could only hope such would be the case, but a man could never know. After all, the world was a vast place and in it lived many mysterious things. The rules which bound those things even more nebulous and eccentric than the creatures themselves were, oft times.
So he knew that whatever he stood to gain, he could also stand to lose and so with his circumstances he made peace, stepping into his cabin, and laying 'pon his cot to sleep. There would be little time for such things later, so he would get what he could now in regards to rest.
Perhaps it would make up for what he lost later...perhaps not. Again, a man could not know such things. At least so long as he was mortal. With that thought and a small chuckle, Fennec closed his eyes and surrendered to exhaustion. There would be time for his musing later.
RP Timeline: I've been Rping for 6 years or so.
Preferred Pronouns: Male pronouns haha.
Preferred Genres: High Fantasy, Dark Fantasy, Modern Fantasy(not often), and some Fandoms.
Participation Type: Unbound. As a Loremaster I am all three categories in one.
Lore Creation(1): A type describing an individual who wishes to assist in the creation of lore to flesh out the world.
World Exploration(2): A type categorizing an individual who wants to write characters experiencing the world.
Organization(3): A type categorizing an individual who is willing to assist in the organization of lore and, perhaps, plot. This category is off limits at the beginning, but may open up, or be a reward for continued participation.
Unbound: A category including two or more of the above categories. If one falls into this category, list the relevant numbers next to it in parentheses.
World Exploration(2): A type categorizing an individual who wants to write characters experiencing the world.
Organization(3): A type categorizing an individual who is willing to assist in the organization of lore and, perhaps, plot. This category is off limits at the beginning, but may open up, or be a reward for continued participation.
Unbound: A category including two or more of the above categories. If one falls into this category, list the relevant numbers next to it in parentheses.
Casting his mind adrift as the ocean winds swept his robes one way, then another, Fennec pondered what he was to do when he arrived in Vostira. He knew it was a necessary stop because of Elephel, his familiar who had told him as much, guiding him as the Fae often did. Still, Elephel had not known exactly why it was necessary and so neither did the mage. Sighing and closing his eyes, Fennec pulled away from the ship's mast, which he had been using for support, and headed to his cabin, stepping down the stairs into the lower levels of the small vessel.
It would be a long journey, but it would be a worthwhile one. They always were, even despite, the burden of karma on his shoulders. Perhaps this new land, though he'd heard plenty of news about it, would help to ease that burden, perhaps even lift it. He could only hope such would be the case, but a man could never know. After all, the world was a vast place and in it lived many mysterious things. The rules which bound those things even more nebulous and eccentric than the creatures themselves were, oft times.
So he knew that whatever he stood to gain, he could also stand to lose and so with his circumstances he made peace, stepping into his cabin, and laying 'pon his cot to sleep. There would be little time for such things later, so he would get what he could now in regards to rest.
Perhaps it would make up for what he lost later...perhaps not. Again, a man could not know such things. At least so long as he was mortal. With that thought and a small chuckle, Fennec closed his eyes and surrendered to exhaustion. There would be time for his musing later.
Fennec
Concept: A man hailing from the continent of Nymia, Fennec is a cunning individual, veiled in magics and held by the will of Haramon. His last name lost via karmic sacrifice, Fennec has no family and thus no legacy to speak of. He is lost, but not so much as to be unable to find himself once more. A curious man he seeks out the city of Olias where all things seem to hide. While his power is perhaps not so great as some, he is nonetheless formidable in his own ways, possessing the ability to perceive as much as Haramon would, though tempered by his humanity of course as no mortal may truly possess the capabilities of a god's incarnation in earnest.
While possessing little overt power, Fennec is capable of subtly pulling on the strings of energy that connect everyone, particularly those that link him to others. He has picked up a variety of tricks in his time and cut deals with many. As such he has come to find it easy to hide himself from the attention of most by manipulating people's connections to his person and sometimes through using glamours he has acquired in certain bargains in his past. Still, should he be truly pressed to defend himself one would be quite surprised to find him capable of at least minor magics of the fourth Order(tier), though his domain is often of the third.
While a seemingly small detail, it should be noted that Fennec is essentially incapable of lying. It should however be known that lies of omission are, in this respect, not lies, though sarcasm is counted as such. Because of this Fennec must strive to tell only truth, at least in some fashion. After all, should his words become lies his agency and magical abilities will suffer, drained by his desecration of Haramon's Will and its trappings. Promises and oaths, because of this, hold particular power making them either a boon when fulfilled or a terribly bane if betrayed or broken.
Fennec is accompanied by his familiar, Elephel, which more often than not takes the form of a firefly, hiding either in his robes, or in plain sight. The familiar's true form is that of a form of Fae known as a Scéal-rugadh, or Storyborn in the common tongue. The familiar is bound to Fennec just as he as bound to it, the two share a connection for the duration of Fennec's life, empowering one another in the meantime.
Equipment: While not possessing much in the regard of armor or weaponry, Fennec carries a great deal in the way of magical ingredients and supplies. Anything from salt to the ground up bones of a sick goat could be found somewhere within the confines of his robes. Additionally despite his lack of true armor, Fennec's clothes have been reinforced with a variety of rune-based enchantments. As an example his robes are not permeable to water and are fire proof, though excessive heat is still something their owner must avoid. Fennec's boots are fire and water proof as well as being uncannily silent. Last among their capabilities is the small bladed tip located in the bottom of the toe of each boot. These are normally retracted unless Fennec requires their use. The heel of his boots also possess this small downwards facing retractable blades. Each blade is only half an inch in length, but is unnaturally sharp, capable of cutting through most materials.
Last, but most important of his possessions is a simple silver ring, which acts as his Implement--an item magically bound via ritual to a magic user to hone their power and amplify their abilities in a given area. Fennec's implement focuses his craft on the idea of connections first and foremost. For further bits of the symbolism that creates the focus of his art due to the item, look here for the substance and here for the item's significance.
Vasarius Aetearan
--Killer of Shades--
Concept: A cunning and vicious survivor, Vasarius came from a family that one might call "worthless and broken." His mother both the abused and an abuser, showing to him only weakness when he needed anything, but, and the women of his life serving similar roles, one might say that Vasarius was fated to be isolated. Now a wandering Hunter of beasts, be they men, mer, or true monsters, Vasarius has been through far more than a rough upbringing--not to mention an unfortunate chain of romances, each ending in their own tragedy. Having gained quite the reputation in Olias and lands beyond, Vasarius is something of a figure of infamy, standing above common Hunters as example to what a man can achieve when truly driven. However, much to the chagrin of more noble souls, Vasarius is not exactly the image of honor and valor, but instead is a crass, ill-spirited man with a grudge against the world, and a distrust of practically anything and everything with a modicum of sentience.
However, despite his personality, Vasarius is rather intimidating, with his dark clad armor, one remaining eye, and stature of six(6) feet and five(5) inches. While his key talents are a mixture of a keen memory and strong resilient body, Vasarius has nonetheless dipped his hand into the art of magic. However, much to the chagrin of those mages who know of him, the hunter has twisted it to his ends, perverting it from an art and turning it into a mere instrument to be played for his benefit. Through this it is revealed that Vasarius' Sway is quite considerable, covering a maximum of 10 meters in a sphere around his person. However, his true strength comes from his Élan, which has taken most of his Sway due to his continued use of Augmentation magic on his physical form. As a result his body is suffused with mana even when at rest, mana which he can influence on an instinctual level to impart himself with greatly enhanced physical capabilities.
While his ranged magical capabilities could not be said to be higher than the 3rd Order(Tier), his ability to physically augment his own person, objects--given time--and even others could be said to be at least of the 5th Order(Tier). Perhaps second most notable of his talents is his ability to work spells inside of things within his radius, though the effect is far stronger when imparted via physical contact. In essence, this ability allows him to enchant objects by altering them on a surface level. While he does not do so often, the Hunter is just as capable of altering things at their root, so as to permanently change their nature.
Equipment: Carrying only what he must, Vasarius often wears his signature armor, though not with his helm donned oft times. This armor has been influenced by the Hunter's magical talents, making it far more durable than it ought to be as well as quite flexible, doing little to restrict his range of movement. However, as a result of his tampering with the core structure of the metal it has become heavier, gaining mass due to the mana that has solidified within it, becoming an essential part of its make-up. Nonetheless, due mostly to his physical prowess, Vasarius more often than not shrugs off the weight of his armor, moving almost as if unimpeded.
Aside from his armor, Vasarius carries a fair amount of miscellaneous ingredients, which he uses for poisons or to damage more complicated beings such as demons and fae. Additionally he possesses a horse which carries implements for travel and sustenance as well as the occasional trophy. It should be noted that despite his relative infamy, Vasarius is not wealthy by any stretch of the imagination, as he has the tendency of spending his coin on brief escapades, gambling, or drink in alternating order. The rest goes towards the upkeep of his equipment most times.
Last and perhaps most notable of his belongings is his spear, which is his Implement. The item holds its own symbolic meaning, initially leading people to believe that Vasarius is entirely single-minded in nature. However, when it is revealed that the spear is composed of mana-infused metal as well as some technology straight from Vaemia, its symbolic meaning becomes somewhat more muddled. Regardless, the weapon's abilities are relatively simple. It cuts and it pierces, but not just flesh as the weapon can shear through mana as well, parting it along the path of its movement and pulling it inwards as it passes. The weapon is durable, infused repeatedly with mana over years of continuous usage, and taken care of quite regularly by its owner. The weapon, as his implement, strengthens his workings of magic in the realms of the physical world. Conversely its mechanical components reveal a complexity to these actions, thus subverting the spear's general meaning of directness, allowing for more complex and nuanced workings to be achieved with its use. Last among its notable properties is the spear's ability to retract into just its handle, though the bladed segments remain visible. Vasarius calls the weapon Dhaerym.
coGM
Celaira Lore Mistress
Member
Seen
11 mos ago
Nicknames: Moogles, Megs (read: do not call me Meg, please.), Cel, Cela
RP Timeline: 10+ years
Preferred Pronouns: She/Her
Preferred Genres: Fantasy, Modern Fantasy, Horror, Sci-Fi, etc.
Participation Type: Unbound.
Roleplay Sample:
The harsh mid-afternoon sun beat down on the backs of a group of Scavengers as they trekked across an arid strip of land in search of any scraps of metal they could get their hands on. There was one in particular that trailed slightly behind the group. A girl of roughly eighteen walked in a relatively slouched manner. The girl's long and mussed copper colored hair darkened her softly rounded face as hardened amber eyes danced across the dry and broken ground in search of anything with a sheen.
After a moment, the girl let out a disappointed sigh. She was much more useful at night, why couldn't they just let her search then? They'd been searching all day and come up with nothing. It was irritating.
When the sigh caught up to the head of the group, his head whipped around to look at her. His six foot stature shadowed her small five foot two frame, causing her to look at him much in the same way a pup might look at an angry alpha. "What's wrong today, Talina?" The man's baritone voice boomed with impatience as he waited for the girl to speak. She always seemed to have something to say about the way he ran their family, and frankly, he was tired of it.
At hearing her name the false, fear stricken demeanor fell away to one with a more diplomatic intent. "Vos, I'm better suited ta the night group! I can't rightly see much durin' the day. It's too bright." Her voice was hoarse, but not so much so that it lost its softness, nor did it lose the determination that her whole body now held. She was sick and tired of being treated like a child. She wasn't able to help in the day group, why didn't he see that?
In response to the girl, Vos simply rolled his eyes and turned away. "We'll talk about it when we get home." His words held a tone of absolution to them that sent Tali's hands into fists.
That's it. Their leader was incompetent. It was the only explanation for this shit.
The day continued to pass without much success in the way of finding metal, but they were able to catch a few small wild animals. By the time the sun had started to dye the clouds in different colors the group had returned to their camp, food in hand and ready to be cooked. After they had eaten, and the night group had departed to search for their share of precious commodities, Talina tried one more time to initiate a conversation with Vos to get moved to the night group.
Much like all her prior attempts, he ignored her. This was the last straw.
When the day group was finally ready to lay to rest Talina stayed awake, lying in wait. An hour passed before she was ready to implement her plan. When she was sure that all of her group was asleep--including the man who was supposed to be watching out by the fire for the Night group's signal--she slipped from her modest tent and dashed out into the early night air. She would prove to Vos that she could be more useful at night than she was during the day. She would show all of them where she belonged.
It didn't take her long at all to find something.
After only about ten minutes of searching, Talina found a strange metal sphere. It hadn't even gotten that dark yet, and already she had proved her worth, or so she thought. When she started to pick up the sphere it grew hot to the touch, causing her to drop it almost immediately. Once on the ground the orb began to shudder and rattle, it even rolled for a few moments before everything just... stopped. Thinking it was over, Tali reached for the orb again, only to have it burst in a cloud of steam and smoke. She almost wasn't able to stop herself from screaming, her curiosity about what this thing was was getting the better of her.
When the smoke and steam cleared, a much larger sphere sat where the smaller one had once been. The girl blinked. What...? As the thought flitted through her mind, she walked toward the object, only to watch as it opened to reveal what looked to be a chair and a lot of strange buttons.
Unable to help herself Tali climbed on to the object and peered inside. As she looked within one of her hands slipped and sent her tumbling into chair. "Shi--" She wasn't even able to finish the word before the door to the sphere closed itself and the unfamiliar sound of engines began to whirr to life. Within moments the scavenger found herself feeling as if she was being pushed somewhere. "Hello? Hello!" She called out helplessly, her chest beginning to heave as her breathing staggered. Talina did not like small spaces. Not. At. All.
She continued to call out, pounding on the interior until she heard the sound of screeching, and then shattering. What the hell was going on?
However, just as she was about to call out again, the door that had trapped her inside was opened. Instantly, the terrified girl tore out of chair and tumbled into another body before finally dropping to the pavement. After a few moments she collected herself enough to look around, but not enough to understand where she was. Fear was causing her body to shake uncontrollably as she took in her surroundings. "W-where in the world am I...?" She questioned no one in particular, until she registered the fact that there was a person in front of her.
At this, her eyes rose up and up before they finally came to rest on the face of a man. Presumably the one that had let her out of that death trap she'd gotten stuck in. Maybe he could help her. "Hello? Can you help me? What is this place? I don' understand..." Her voice was shrill, scared, she didn't even think about the fact that he might not understand her. To her they looked the same, so they should speak the same... right?
RP Timeline: 10+ years
Preferred Pronouns: She/Her
Preferred Genres: Fantasy, Modern Fantasy, Horror, Sci-Fi, etc.
Participation Type: Unbound.
Roleplay Sample:
Please Note that not all of my posts will be the length of this one. My usual posting quantity will vary based on a large set of factors that I think unwise to list here.
Higher Range of Posting | Tons of Inspiration | Words: 1,038
The harsh mid-afternoon sun beat down on the backs of a group of Scavengers as they trekked across an arid strip of land in search of any scraps of metal they could get their hands on. There was one in particular that trailed slightly behind the group. A girl of roughly eighteen walked in a relatively slouched manner. The girl's long and mussed copper colored hair darkened her softly rounded face as hardened amber eyes danced across the dry and broken ground in search of anything with a sheen.
After a moment, the girl let out a disappointed sigh. She was much more useful at night, why couldn't they just let her search then? They'd been searching all day and come up with nothing. It was irritating.
When the sigh caught up to the head of the group, his head whipped around to look at her. His six foot stature shadowed her small five foot two frame, causing her to look at him much in the same way a pup might look at an angry alpha. "What's wrong today, Talina?" The man's baritone voice boomed with impatience as he waited for the girl to speak. She always seemed to have something to say about the way he ran their family, and frankly, he was tired of it.
At hearing her name the false, fear stricken demeanor fell away to one with a more diplomatic intent. "Vos, I'm better suited ta the night group! I can't rightly see much durin' the day. It's too bright." Her voice was hoarse, but not so much so that it lost its softness, nor did it lose the determination that her whole body now held. She was sick and tired of being treated like a child. She wasn't able to help in the day group, why didn't he see that?
In response to the girl, Vos simply rolled his eyes and turned away. "We'll talk about it when we get home." His words held a tone of absolution to them that sent Tali's hands into fists.
That's it. Their leader was incompetent. It was the only explanation for this shit.
The day continued to pass without much success in the way of finding metal, but they were able to catch a few small wild animals. By the time the sun had started to dye the clouds in different colors the group had returned to their camp, food in hand and ready to be cooked. After they had eaten, and the night group had departed to search for their share of precious commodities, Talina tried one more time to initiate a conversation with Vos to get moved to the night group.
Much like all her prior attempts, he ignored her. This was the last straw.
When the day group was finally ready to lay to rest Talina stayed awake, lying in wait. An hour passed before she was ready to implement her plan. When she was sure that all of her group was asleep--including the man who was supposed to be watching out by the fire for the Night group's signal--she slipped from her modest tent and dashed out into the early night air. She would prove to Vos that she could be more useful at night than she was during the day. She would show all of them where she belonged.
It didn't take her long at all to find something.
After only about ten minutes of searching, Talina found a strange metal sphere. It hadn't even gotten that dark yet, and already she had proved her worth, or so she thought. When she started to pick up the sphere it grew hot to the touch, causing her to drop it almost immediately. Once on the ground the orb began to shudder and rattle, it even rolled for a few moments before everything just... stopped. Thinking it was over, Tali reached for the orb again, only to have it burst in a cloud of steam and smoke. She almost wasn't able to stop herself from screaming, her curiosity about what this thing was was getting the better of her.
When the smoke and steam cleared, a much larger sphere sat where the smaller one had once been. The girl blinked. What...? As the thought flitted through her mind, she walked toward the object, only to watch as it opened to reveal what looked to be a chair and a lot of strange buttons.
Unable to help herself Tali climbed on to the object and peered inside. As she looked within one of her hands slipped and sent her tumbling into chair. "Shi--" She wasn't even able to finish the word before the door to the sphere closed itself and the unfamiliar sound of engines began to whirr to life. Within moments the scavenger found herself feeling as if she was being pushed somewhere. "Hello? Hello!" She called out helplessly, her chest beginning to heave as her breathing staggered. Talina did not like small spaces. Not. At. All.
She continued to call out, pounding on the interior until she heard the sound of screeching, and then shattering. What the hell was going on?
However, just as she was about to call out again, the door that had trapped her inside was opened. Instantly, the terrified girl tore out of chair and tumbled into another body before finally dropping to the pavement. After a few moments she collected herself enough to look around, but not enough to understand where she was. Fear was causing her body to shake uncontrollably as she took in her surroundings. "W-where in the world am I...?" She questioned no one in particular, until she registered the fact that there was a person in front of her.
At this, her eyes rose up and up before they finally came to rest on the face of a man. Presumably the one that had let her out of that death trap she'd gotten stuck in. Maybe he could help her. "Hello? Can you help me? What is this place? I don' understand..." Her voice was shrill, scared, she didn't even think about the fact that he might not understand her. To her they looked the same, so they should speak the same... right?
If you want more specific information than what is listed in this profile, you can check here.
Katarina
Basic Concept: Cyborg/Cybernetic character.
Brief Introduction to Katarina: Katarina, or Kat as she is sometimes called believes that she is a cybernetic organism, or Cyborg. It seems that parts of her body were replaced with Magitech, though she is uncertain of just how much is gone. She knows for certain that her eyes were replaced, as well as her spinal column in its entirety. Evidently it was enough that she has to have a new crystal of mana created each month to supply her with enough energy to survive, and function normally.
Abilities/Magic: Katarina has no access to traditional magic, and as far as she is aware, she never has. Because of her biological augmentations she is stronger, faster, more agile, and has a higher visual acuity than normal human beings.
Personality: As personalities go, Katarina's seems bland and uninteresting on the surface. She is entirely logical, to the point of doing calculations in her head, and does not often respond appropriately to emotional stimuli.
Goals: Travelling in search of who she really is. Trying to find out how she became the way she is now.
Starting Location: Olias.
Vaera Mylan
Basic Concept: Magitech Mechanic/Engineer character.
Brief Introduction to Vaera: Vaera is a very intelligent individual, but is easily bored with most things, and even people on some occasions. One thing she doesn't get bored with, however, is technology.
Abilities/Magic: Most, if not all, of Vaera's spellcrafting has to do with what she puts into her Magitech. She crafts pretty much all of the pieces of the machines she builds by hand, her specialty being magic circuitry.
As far as abilities go, she is of above average intelligence, and is very good with a sword (specifically a katana).
Personality Traits:
Hotheaded, rash, easily angered.
Introverted to an extent.
Boisterous, and mischievous when actually engaged by others.
The rest is to be explored IC.
Brief history: Born and raised in Vaemia, Vaera grew up on the floating city's streets. It was in the back alleys of this technological marvel that Vaera learned about the beauty that was technology, and how it could be used to both help and hinder.
Goals: Nothing of note, at the moment.
Equipment: A relatively old looking Katana, in reality though, Vaera crafted it herself.
"Rocket" boots -- A pair of leather boots with mana infused metal in the base of the soles. When Vaera taps the heels of the boots together in a specific pattern the magic circuitry in her boots activates subsequently activating a light blue fire on the bottom of the heel and on the sole of the boot, lifting her off of the ground. The rate and intensity of the flame is controlled via certain slight gestures Vaera makes.
Starting Location: Calivast.
Marin Nytrine
Basic Concept: Hopeless Contract Mage character.
Brief Introduction to Marin: Marin has always been fascinated by spellcraft. So much so, that she would read about it in any book she could get her hands on. One day, while looking in the library several towns away from her home, she found a book she couldn't quite decipher. She flipped through the book until, finally, she got to the last page. The only page she could read. Not realizing the consequences of her actions, the girl read the spell aloud. A few uneventful minutes passed before a dark shadow swept over the room. In fear, Marin froze in place. As quickly as the shadow appeared, it was gone, and she was greeted by a clearly male voice in her mind. She looked around her for the origin of the voice until her eyes fell upon a small black and grey fox perched atop a bookcase. After talking with the being for a while, Marin learned that its name was Briar, and that--for now--it was her familiar. The two have been inseparable ever since.
Personality: To be discovered ICly.
Abilities/Magic: She's trash at spellwork right now, and has no notable abilities to speak of.
Goals: To learn as much as she can about what she's learned to be contract magic, and to find a suitable teacher.
Equipment: The only notable thing Marin carries on her person is the book from which she read her first contract spell. The one that called Briar. However, the pages are completely blank. She does not know why.
Briar is about 8 inches tall in this form, and can typically be found resting on Marin's shoulders or head.
Information about this form is currently unknown. (Will talk about it with Yoshua and update accordingly.)
Starting Location: Calivast.
Praen
Basic Concept: Dureva Cat Girl
Brief introduction to Praen: Praen's childhood isn't something she particularly likes to dwell on. When she was young she was kidnapped from her clan after wandering too far off a path. The Humans who abducted her were quick to throw her into the slave trade, where she dwelled for most of her life. She's had a total of two masters, each of which branded her with a mark of ownership. Presently, she has one on the back of her neck, which she conceals with her hair, and the other is on the inside of her right wrist. Her last master was a merchant within Calivast, a very well off merchant. The man had many slaves, but for some reason, Praen seemed to be the one he liked to torture most. Being that the girl was the most defiant out of the group, it was a wonder that he didn't get rid of her as soon as he was able. Throw her away like the trash he thought she was. It would've likely saved him a lot of time... And, his life. One night when Praen was called on by this man, she managed to sneak in a small handmade object. It was an implement intended to stab him through the heart. However, in a strong fit of rage, Praen stabbed him more than 24 times.
When authorities showed up, the girl of merely 16 didn't even bother to try and deny what happened. In a tribunal she was sentenced to exile from Calivast on the condition that if she were to return she would be executed on sight. She is unsure of why she got off with such a light sentence.
Since then she has found work as a fairly decent bounty hunter. Her bounties include people, monsters, and beasts.
Personality:
Rash, mouthy, doesn't much deal with bullshit.
Abilities
Enhanced speed & Agility: The mana in Praen's body augments her movements. She is capable of outrunning some of the fastest horses out there, and her enhanced agility allows her to be able to pull of nearly any acrobatic stunt she sets her mind to. Though, there have been times where she's failed to deliver on that front.
Beast Whisperer: Once Praen was free of her life as a slave, she spent a lot of time in the Bad Lands, a place called such because of the monsters that usually dwell there. The Bad Lands are a large area of land between many cities where most people dare not tread without the aid of a monster hunter, or guide. Each continent has its own area such as this. In Praen's case, however, what she found there was freedom. Not only that, but the ability to communicate with some of the beasts that live there.
One such beast is her friend and companion Qern. Qern is a large black wolf-like beast who stands about .5x bigger than most horses.
Equipment
A weathered and worn wooden long bow. There is nothing special about it, it was simply the first and only bow she's ever used. In it's current condition it may not last her much longer.
A few enchanted arrows. The arrows she uses are enchanted with elemental bursts. She usually buys these as she cannot make them herself. There are many different types of enchanted arrows that she can be seen weilding, I'll list their three basic groups here:
Offensive - Arrows intended to do damage. These arrows have to make contact with something to release the burst of elemental energy stored within them, but they do not necessarily have to pierce that object, creature, or person.
Capture - These arrows are typically used as snares. The effects of these arrows are triggered once they hit a living person or creature. They will not affect inanimate objects, or beings that are technically dead. THey also have to pierce the target to be effective. Once the target is pierced depending on the type of capture arrow its affect will be activated and it will ensnare its victim in whatever it was enchanted with. These will also be elementally based, and the arrow will do no physical damage. Once it pierces its target it will give way to the enchantment, causing the arrow fired to disappear.
*It should be noted that these arrows are not "homing," or "heat-seeking," she can miss who she is aiming for. Target is only intended to mean "what the arrow hits."
Defensive/Buff - These arrows are enchanted to, when fired at an ally, enhance certain traits. Speed, strength, spell output, etc. They will do no damage to the intended target, and tend to give way to their enchantment which will temporarily wrap some one in a soft glow until the enchantment's time is up. These buffs usually only last about 3 minutes.
A small silver dagger. There are no enchantments of any kind on this weapon. It is just a dagger that she uses to fight in close combat.
A Nature Gem.
Goals: Nothing notable at the moment.
Starting Location: Olias.
Rumplestiltskin The Dark One
Member
Seen
7 yrs ago
Nicknames: Rumplestiltskin, Rumples, Rumpy. Call me Mikael if you knew me back then as him. Do not call me Sifu if we meet on Skype; only certain clansmen can address me respectfully as such, and you are not one of them ^.^
RP Timeline: 12 years, 6 months, and 28 days as of 4/4/2016
Preferred Pronouns: he, his, and him; It on occasion.
Preferred Genres:
Participation Type: Unbound (2 primarily, 3 secondarily, and 1 tertiarily)
Roleplay Samples: These first two samples are from my younger days, on forums long dead or abandoned. Made my head spin to read them again... but in Essence and Chrono Asylum samples, those are from this site, but sadly after Guildfall. Wish I had some saved posts Pre-Guildfall, like Obri Matei Groza ;~; ...
THE EMPTY LORD
He had heard the call, felt the penetrating invitation. But he'd been expecting it. For the longest time, this variable remained undefined in his plan, like a flickering fire at the end of a long road. And now it was coming to an end, forcing his hand to examine the triviality himself in lieu of sending ambassadors on his behalf. His followers, having been soothed and informed of the new changes, remained behind in that secret world that existed in between the Three Worlds' inhabitants' compositions. Even the one with the rictus grin who had betrayed him understood the wisdom of letting his lord handle this.
And handle it, Ioi most certainly would.
As a large semi-transparent blue rectangle multiplied itself in place and phased him onto the Surface, it was the first time since the Great War's beginning that Ioi, the Empty Lord of Maioi (a northeast region of Hell), breathed surface air. As he exhaled through his unseen mouth, dark purple smoke rose into the air, and joined into tiny little dark orbs that joined the rest hovering around him like wandering wisps. His form, though dark as slate and unclothed, actually warped the reality of the space he occupied. Light bent around him, barely able to bounce off of him and go into the eyes of those who may see him. Shadows were delved under the bending photons, the two elements merging into a purple smoky essence that seemed to breathe out hot air as it followed him. Dark crystal lattices, none no larger than a human palm, were embedded in Ioi's body and radiated not power, but insensible abstracts of information.
With purpose, he took a stride toward the Sword that had previously been Hazumi, a strange oddity of a person whose files filled an iota. Eight small slits on his face, glowing as though empowered eyes, bore down on the two-bladed instrument and its simplistic, unassuming European style. A strange symbol above his eyes vibrated lightly as Ioi assessed the secret details of its composition. It was as he expected from long ago: a gathering of the essence of these worlds. Again, it beckoned him -- anyone really -- to grasp its handle and change reality.
Which he had been doing all along, surely and slowly.
Less smoke escaped him as he stepped forward again, seemingly ignoring the situation around him but in fact had planned this window of opportunity--it bought him a couple minutes before anyone would notice. For his was not an aura of angel, human, or demon (though that had been his former nature)--as the Council who could not make sense of Chimeras, so would anyone else would struggle to sense Ioi. But once they were able to, they could no longer hide from him. Not that he was searching for them, as he had no need to--it was his way to be where he needed to be, and nowhere else ever at the wrong tick of time.
He seized the Sword, its almighty power trying to surge through him and beg him to embrace service of the world. Holding the blade tip skyward, his eyes dimmed in intensity as he realized how easily he could change the worlds. His wisps flitted around the blade, trails of smoke fading into light and shadow, and back again. He understood what this was for, in fact, the whole feeling was bittersweet.
He lowered the sword, disappointed.
The use of this instrument by him would unbalance the amount of hope and despair that he needed for his plans' fruition. There was no way he could proceed with this opportunity without obvious despair-causing changes. Although before, when he had been planning his return as a herald of an invasion of the Three Worlds, he would have gladly used this Sword. It would have been checkmate...
But Ioi, the Empty Lord, and the last of the Dovetail demons, knew better. It took a while, but he knew better, for when the truth assumed him, he realized a better way; a safer alternative to reality's inevitable subduing. Unfortunately, destroying the Sword was not a great idea and he knew that while it still existed, it would continually call to someone to wield the essence of the world, for better or for worse. He turned around, his window of opportunity fading down to its last few seconds before someone would notice him. His options were before him, and Ioi decided to wait. Simply wait. Nobody was going to destroy the Three Worlds, but he was not going to keep it for himself.
He did not need to: even now, his Iotan essence was communicating with the Sword... abstract to abstract.
His wisps, now forty in number, swirled around him flawlessly, from his three clawed feet to the top of his bald head. The Sword in his right hand, his left hand clenched and released, its dark purple claws trembling. Smoke quietly sifted out of his mouth again as he very patiently waited for those empowered variables to show themselves and solve the equation of this confrontation with him.
And normally, time and patience were beneath Ioi and never influenced how he acted, but he hoped things would hurry along; after all, he had a honeymoon to commence...
IoI watched calmly as Lucien came closer to his location--not by the relation between oculars and light, but through the harmony (or lack thereof) of the original angel's actions; Especially against the demons and angels whose perishing bodies released their souls. Normally, the Empty Lord would have intervened with such affairs, as his faithful followers had said 'no original lives must be lost.' That was then, as now the transcendent being knew exactly where these slain creations were going.
Lucien approached on the dilapidated Red Square, the space between him and this 'unknown obstacle' only measuring up a few yards. By now, the Empty Lord's dark, smoky wisps numbered just shy of a hundred and had begun to wander farther and farther away, in circular semi-random paths. Additionally, light and shadow in the area were having an awfully hard time working, but visibility and hiding was still somewhat possible. Not that the original angel would have any need for subterfuge, now would he? Ioi certainly didn't have any need for stealth.
There was no pretense here, just sheer desire manifested in their forms of people, but then... Ioi spoke.
The tone, gentle but firm, was evident. His raspy, lingering voice knew no equal in presentation, as well, for every person in Loom would hear it. Perfectly. All other aural sources temporarily muted as he spoke to the original angel. Indeed, no barrier, be it physical, language, or dumb understanding, stopped Ioi from addressing every element in his plan. He spoke to the innermost core of a person's essence, bypassing all mental safeguards and defenses. Additionally, knowledge was imputed to all listeners: the name, that is, eye-oh-eye, IoI, the Empty Lord, who knew them, and the understanding of what Lucien was saying to him.
Repeating, everyone would hear what Ioi said to Lucien and why.
"What you already believe," he warned everyone, pausing deliberately, "will determine what you shall believe next."
His face lowered slightly, his pupil-less, purple eyes examining the blade before looking back up at Lucien. "I will not, although I have no intention to wield it," Ioi declared, hinting that he would only give the sword to someone who meets his standards for worthiness.
"More shall come judging," he added, lowering the sword so that its tip tapped the ground, and he spoke no more.
Ioi's attention to Lucien then shifted, as though someone unseen was talking to him. A very subtle nod and dimming of his eyes confirmed some request. Without further cue, several blue, semi-transparent rectangles, full of multiplying cubes, appeared on the Empty Lord's left side--the strange manifestations faded, leaving their passengers on the ground, all of their eyes closed that then opened in sync. The lot consisted of a short, bearded old man, a tall spiffy gentleman with a top hat, two lovely ladies in elegant dresses (one more extravagant than the other), and a single petite girl with a strange 'gray' composition, spiky hair, and eerie stare. All, save for the gray girl, turned toward Ioi, bidding him thanks--one of the ladies even squeezed his hand. Then they all departed from the Red Square by various means: running with demonic swiftness, empowered jumping and parkour, and then the old man just simply meandered out of sight, sipping some delightful tea.
The gray girl, known as the Reclaimer, gave Lucien one interested look before blinking and turning her gaze skywards. Wingless, her body flew straight up into the sky above the Red Square, leaving Ioi seemingly alone. But he was not. Kneeling behind him, an unseen being stretched her long, soft white wings outwards past Ioi's sides. Then standing, her wings docked as she brushed a strand of chestnut hair over her ear and came to Ioi's left side. He glanced at her, seeing her body trembling as her dour demeanor fought her will to lift her eyes. But she finally did, looking on the other original angel before her, Lucien. She swallowed, shuddering as she took another step forward as her lord watched her.
"Lucien... y-you are alive," Elana breathed, clasping her shaky hands together in front of her.
----------------------------
ANOTHER PAGE TURNED, and the next chapter began; perhaps it would end with nobody getting upset and losing their head. With Mairyell and Aeris Kasio fleeing to safer heights and then taking a dabble into crime fighting, the House of Grim's occupants was now reduced to two: ITZAL SLYRE and Solus Grim. The former's highly antagonistic nature and light-hearted scheme had been too much for the young ones, but the latter was hardly fazed. Which was to be expected, for the stitch-lipped chimera had much experience with the notorious Reaper and knew how to tread lightly around him. Indeed, for his wizened experience and fearlessness (or alternatively, jaded indifference) had been the very thing that kept Slyre from truly tearing into him. For the man's earlier dismal company lacked it, and now they were quite motherless.
But not being one for social niceties, Solus prompted him to get on with it.
"Yes, very well then. I can see you're desperate to know what this is all about," the Reaper crowed loudly, stretching his gray-skinned mouth and flashing his red teeth.
His eyelids narrowed over his black pupils. "But first, let's make sure that nothing here is conducted in vain," he added cryptically.
He then paused deliberately, as if trying to squeeze in one more opportunity to frustrate the Necromaster. But after a moment, he hunched over slightly, his unhooded head tilting as his voice sunk to a lower volume than before. As if he was about to reveal a secret. Bringing his right hand to his chin inquisitively, his white pupils rotated on the outer rim of his eyes like little moons orbiting dark earths.
"Be careful with how you answer, Solus Grim," Slyre asked with unusual care. "Do you love Rina Alice Genno ... or do you not?"
Solus squinted his eyes slightly as he listened to the Reaper. When he received the final question, his shoulders untensed, slumped down a little, relaxed. "I think you already know the answer, but..." He stopped for a moment to decide what he was about to say next. "Yes... I do."
"And do you actually want her back? Even if she's all shriveled up and weak from age?" Slyre continued, tilting his head the other way.
"I doubt you need another skeleton in your closet, Solus," he jested with a sneer.
"An extra skeleton wouldn't hurt..." Solus glumly jested back.
"Why?" Slyre asked simply.
That was when Solus looked down at the ground, at his own feet. Why did he still want her back after all these years? What if she was a shriveled up old bag plugged into a life support machine? But then again, Solus already had a solution for the latter. And having dealt with this individual before him in many of his lifetimes, as well as today while the Kasios were here, he realized that he shouldn't listen to what he says, those extra words he adds to taunt you, make you doubt what you believe. Instead, he chose to look beyond them, straight at the point of his questions, and the true meaning of his answers.
"I... I don't know. I guess... I guess I just want to see her again. I did train her after all. Her not being here feels..." He stopped. He found his answer, and he didn't like it either, just because how pathetic it sounded in his head. "I want her back because I'm lonely..."
The Reaper's anticipating smile slowly faded. Lonely? He stood up straighter, his hands retreating behind his back. His black pupils still trained on Solus's skull, his white pupil came dangerously close to aligning with them. His voice became bereft of silly or teasing tones, which was highly unlike his usual demeanor.
"So is she," Slyre said, almost as if he was struggling to confess that.
Solus noted Slyre's change of tone. He was strangely sincere. It seemed so unnatural and wrong, that Solus wasn't really sure if he could truely believe him, not like he could before. But despite his doubts, the chemicals in his brain forced his face to finally express emotion. His eyes widened in surprise. "Is she really...?" His face showed guilt, and a tinge of sadness.
"Yes," he lied, still not grinning.
Now I've got him. The Reaper was jubilant inside, but he dared not let such mortal feelings surface. Slyre cleared his throat, looking thoughtful for a moment as his right thumb and pointer finger traced the white patch of skin around his mouth, as though he was stroking a full goatee. He didn't actually have facial hair, but it seemed that he liked to play as though he did. His eyes fully turned from Solus, scrying through the ceiling at some unforeseen feature. In actuality, the Reaper was glancing at the immaterial information sinking below the town of Thorpe from a distance. Some demons had been killed by the Kasios.
His smirk returned. "Like I said earlier, you've merited my mercy these past two centuries, Solus," he remarked, glancing at him sideways with his black pupils.
"So I kept the girl alive, even though I was going to utterly destroy her for what she had become," he hinted darkly, his voice sounding almost sickened with the thought.
"Layna had one hour..." Solus said, looking at the body of the dead mother. "I guess Rina gets one too, right?"
The reaper followed the hunter's gaze. A smooth, silky chuckle rasped from his throat. "No, not quite, but that is a good guess," he lied, then glancing back at him.
"I'll give you a free question, I suppose. Layna attempted to cheat me. She wanted one hour to see her children, but oh, Mairyell certainly shortchanged her, now didn't he?" Slyre explained with a nod.
"Do you feel the soul memories seeping in? 'An hour for an hour', hmm?" the reaper asked him, his black pupils glaring at him whilst the white ones looked at ExMortis, so dormant and sleepy.
"I'll owe you an hour of my time, for anything imaginable I'm guessing?" Solus replied.
Slyre cocked his head, his rictus grin conveying his condescension. "Now, now, let's not get ahead of ourselves," he stated with a chuckle.
"I'm going to let you visit her for two full hours... in exchange for one hour of your time. It'll start from the moment she lays her eyes on you," he continued.
"Don't forget, though: I have a job for you. And the Kasios, but we'll get to that later," he explained deceptively.
"Because first, I will answer three questions. About anything you'd like. And I will give three straight answers. For free," Slyre beamed, concluding his strange offer.
Crossing his arms, the reaper stood back, looking down at Solus over his nose. What could this strange Reaper be thinking?
"All I ask is that you convey them all in one go," he added cryptically, then pausing, "and do you want to ask them before or after you visit the girl?"
At that point, the pupils of Slyre's eyes aligned: white over black, tiny dot over the large saucers. He peered into Solus's soul with his Abstract Gaze. He wasn't attempting to reap him, but to shake his soul for good measure. After all, if something is too good to be true, is it true? Or is it false? What if it was true, but cast away, being deemed false?
Such trivialities would not be allowed to mess up his grand ascendancy. Not this time.
Solus felt a sudden, deep coldness within him as he stared into Slyre's eyes. Fear swelled within him. He hadn't felt fear in so long, it was like a new emotion that he discovered. It was invigorating, but also terrifying, in all kinds of ways. His mental defenses buckled under Slyre's gaze. His heart was in his throat, and his legs felt light. But Solus pushed on. Attempting to think clearly, and choosing his questions quickly.
"Before." Solus said quickly. Clearly he was struggling. "Who are you? What are you? And... What do you want with me...?"
Slyre loosed a throaty chuckle as Solus aired his last question, and then promptly stepped forward and seized the little god by the throat. The speed of his hand was so fast, it was almost as though it was already there, curling around Solus. Maintaining eye contact the whole time, the Reaper lifted the Necromaster a good 4-feet off the dirty floor. His feet dangling, it almost seemed like being choked to death was about to become a reality. However, his grip was strong, yet surprisingly comfortable; only a feeling of complete numbness beneath his neck seemed to be the most threatening aspect of this intimate contact.
Solus was literally in the palm of Slyre's hand, and the latter brought the former very close, nose to nose.
"To make you better in every way possible," Slyre stated deceptively, but truthfully. "I am the Avatar of the Abstract and current caretaker of the Void..."
Solus's past lives began flashing before his eyes--from every breath he took, every move he made, every word he uttered... all from the beginning, to the end, to now, in a single heart beat. But memories would be fleeting.
"I am Itzal Slyre... the Terminus," the Reaper continued, his voice shaking, "and your wish is granted."
At that moment, Solus's body would become completely numb as he became 1-dimensional in nature. His body and soul compressed into an infinitely small line and entered into Slyre's right eye. The Necromaster would still sense everything around him, but it all zipped by at an impossible speed. Images were blurred, but some were clearer than others as his "travel route" took minor turns into the two-dimensional plane.
He saw Szayeis in the Western Realm.
He glimpsed Lazarus and Mary on the floor.
Mairyell and Aeris during their fine dining.
A man with an orange mask blasting a strange creature in the head with a gun.
Zi in Emmet's apartment.
Hazumi and several blurred figures on a dance floor.
He saw Loom, crumbling, then whole. Then desecrated. In the middle were black figures chasing Lucien.
Then, nothingness came and blackness consumed Solus. Time seemed to have passed in a mere moment. His body uncompressed, his soul wriggled into it. The sound of water rushing, then retreating could be heard. Standing up, looking down, sand wrapped around his boots. A salty breeze tickled his sides, drawing his nose to bear the scent. A crab scurried past him, frightened by his sudden appearance on the beach. And then Slyre released his hold on Solus, letting him be in full control of his body. If he looked up, he would see a single, solitary building a few hundred yards before him.
A red-bricked lighthouse that seemed impossibly tall and pierced the sky.
Its brilliant light sliced through the darkness of the night with every rotation, and the stars above lit a well-trodden path up to the building. But even from this distance, one could hear a distinct but haunting voice, echoing down through the trees and grass. The natural sounds of the water and wind seemed quelled and hushed under the musical tones.
Rina's voice, steadfast and gentle, was singing in an unknown, yet beautiful language: with every lyrical syllable, Solus would feel his heartstrings tugged.
--------
----
Solus fell to his knees after his body rematerialized. Breathing heavily, he clutched his throat, the feeling of Slyre's cold hand wrapped around his neck lingered for a while longer. He swallowed hard, pushing his free hand onto the sand to help himself up. Getting on his feet, he took a look around. He was standing on a beach, looking directly at the ocean, and the horizon where the extent of his sight ended.
He turned around, to see a tower... No, a lighthouse made of bricks that seemed to pierce the clouds. How has no one noticed this? He wondered. But that thought was broken by a voice, echoing from the top of the lighthouse. Solus listened to it for a few moments, before recognizing it. "Rina..." He said out loud, as if he was trying to convince himself what he was hearing was true.
As if in a weird lapse of panic, he scrambled forward towards the lighthouse, almost tripping over himself several times on the way to it. He passed what appeared to be a hole in the ground with a ladder leading deeper into it. Beside it, sat mining equipment, the usual, ranging from a pickaxes to a few buckets to move dirt out of the hole. There was also a cage with a canary in it, though it didn't seem to notice Solus' presence, or perhaps simply didn't care. He noted his strange find, and moved on. Eventually, by following the well lit path, he got to the foot of the lighthouse, and its entrance that awaited for him to open it.
Solus placed his hand on the handle with care, in case the door suddenly decided to blow up in his face. Nothing happened of course, but what surprised him was that the door was unlocked. It saved him some trouble at least, but that fact irked him.
He stepped inside.
Solus was greeted by a flight of spiral stairs, going all the way to the top. But as he looked up the gap of the stairs where he could see the light, he noticed that there were rooms on every floor.
He began his climb.
He ascended two steps at a time, and he stopped at every floor where a new opening into a room appeared, he peered inside of each despite hearing Rina's singing from all the way at the top. As he ascended he saw living rooms, kitchens, a multitude of bedrooms. How many beds does this girl need? He asked himself as he continued. But what was the most curious thing was that every room was filled with pictures of her, portraits, smaller ones on desks, and others of her with other people, mostly humans, some demons, and a couple angels. She was smiling in all of them, as were they. The question of who took those pictures lingered in Solus' head. Perhaps there were others here that Slyre took away from the world, left them here until it was their hour.
The more he ascended the stranger the place felt. Every stone and hardwood floor was scrubbed clean to a T. You could cook off the ground here. The candles in the rooms he passed were arranged accordingly, well away from anything flammable. He knew that Rina liked to keep things clean, but this was a step up. Perhaps boredom finally got to her.
He could smell food too. Though he had no need for food anymore, it smelled something divine. He passed the kitchen where it originated from, and noticed freshly plucked vegetables, with the soil still clinging to them. From the looks of the amount of ingredients used, it was a meal for two.
The flood of thoughts and the overwhelming feelings that flowed through him helped pass the time as he climbed, until finally he reached the final floor, just underneath the constantly turning light. The singing was strongest here. He sighed, he only had two hours...
He placed his hand on the wooden door, and pushed gently, slowly opening it as to not disturb her.
And there she was, with her back to him and hands on the rail. Also behind her was a ladder that led to the lighthouse device, which powerfully swept through the night like a cleaver. With every rotation, she was briefly seen in darkness, then in the light; as if she was pulsing between the two realms of those elements. Her attire seemed simple enough: muddy black jeans with rips and tears here and there, along with a white, heavily stained blouse tucked in. Her feet were bare, but dirty. It seemed as though Rina had been working for a long time.
From the angle of his approach, the side of her left face hinted at maturity. Even her height had increased, nearly matching Solus. She was certainly no old bag of bones that Slyre hinted at, but indeed, she had grown, perhaps looking to be in her late 20s. But 200 years had gone by. Odd.
Her eyes remained closed, her mouth continued gesturing the lyrics of the strange, unknown song. Her voice trailed around the man, pulling at his heartstrings like a skilled musician. But other than that, she did not seem to notice that she had a visitor.
"That's beautiful..." Solus said, somewhat sadly as he looked upon the figure of Rina.
Her song immediately ended at the praise, but her eyes still remained shut. Her head lowering slightly, her brow rubbed up in frustration, as if she was unnerved by what he'd just said. Or perhaps she could hardly believe it---that he was here. Her hands clenched the railing harder, bringing out the whiteness of her knuckles under starlight.
Suddenly, the rotating device above them hummed loudly, and then seemed to die down. Complete darkness engulfed them for a moment, until their vision adjusted for the ample amount of the stars and moon peeking behind the clouds.
"Ugh, that damn thing," Rina muttered with annoyance, shaking her head as she turned to climb the ladder and fix it for the 3rd time that day.
Solus watched her intently, even was unsure if she was real. Her expression at his remark, told him volumes, enough for him to speak up again. "Rina..."
She froze, her hands and right foot on the rungs of the ladder. His voice again. She caved, having long learned to ignore fabrications of her memories and longing for him. Or so she thought. Sighing, she glanced over at his direction, his oh-so-familiar bodily outline illuminated by stellar light. She squinted at him, as though trying to discern if he was really there or not. Could it be...?
She swallowed, her entire body starting to react to the actual presence of someone there. His breathing tickled her ears, and her hairs stood up on ends. She looked down at the mud and sand he'd tracked up here. Even his scent caught her nostrils up into a flare. Hoping against hope, her lips parted in the darkness...
"Solus?" Rina asked, her voice trembling and nearly breaking.
"Yeah..." Solus replied. "Long time no see..." He suddenly felt something shake in his trench coat pocket, which he was sure was empty. He put his hand in there, his fingers feeling glass, and a wooden frame surrounding it. It had the shape of an hourglass. He pulled it out and looked at it, inspecting it in his hand, turning it from left and right, and up and down, but the sand, continued to moved into the empty portion of the hourglass. Well, at least he gave me a timer... He put it back in his pocket, and looked back towards Rina, watching her.
She'd stepped forward away from the ladder, his words drawing her in, almost into a fascinated state of being. The green flames of his eyes, nostrils, and mouth bathed her face in an eerie illumination, but it only served to harden her hope that he was literally there. Her eyes made out a small object in his hand. Another hourglass? Between dealing with the absolute fact that Solus was actually standing before her and seeing that hourglass, Rina decided to touch first, ask questions later.
"12 years," Rina replied, nodding in agreement as she placed her hand tentatively on his chest.
She flinched, half expecting to pass right through it. A sob snared her throat, and she pulled away from him, covering her face with both hands. Her shoulders trembled as her body swayed dangerously in place, as though she might fall over the railing.
"Please... be real," she cried lowly.
That sob broke him. He flash stepped towards her, in a blink of an eye, his arms were wrapped around her, holding her tightly, as if she would disappear again. "I'm real, Rina... I'm real." His right hand reached for the back of her head, his fingers gently running through her hair. He wished he had the power to cry, but it was something he lacked. But has it really been only 12 years for her?
Suddenly engulfed into his strength and firmness of body, Rina nearly fainted. Her knees bent like wax as she clung to his torso feebly. I'm real. The promise etched into her heart at the moment, giving her courage to look up at him. Her teeth bit her lips as her tear-streaked face once again met the green-flamed light. She lowered her head again, wiping her tears on his chest. Then, looking up again, she smiled that lopsided grin that she'd given him many times during the months of her training over 200 years ago.
"I promised myself I wouldn't cry since you can't, Solus," she explained breathlessly, and trying to stand on her own two feet.
That was a feat in and of itself since she had absolutely no idea where the ground was. Or the sky. Or the lighthouse for that matter. Solus, and only Solus, captivated her attention and enraptured her soul with sheer, almost painful bliss.
His fingers ran from her hair and caressed her tear soaked cheek. "I... I don't know what to say..." His brain froze, unable to process anything intelligible to say to her. "I lost hope..."
An involuntary purr escaped her at his touch, shaking her down to her core and below. "I..." she mumbled through his words, quieting for a moment. He lost hope. It was a thought that had crossed her mind some years back---that he'd have given up on her. Logic surfaced briefly, trying to concoct some excuse for him like all girlfriends do at times.
"Well, the Surface is big; Can't imagine being able to search it all in such a short time," she offered, smiling up at him and caressing the right side of his doll-stitched mouth.
"The Surface...?" Solus asked rhetorically as his eyes began to roll back into his skull. "God damn it. What a fool I was. For 200 years I searched everywhere but the Surface..."
Rina swallowed hard again, struggling to understand his words. 200 years...? Her head tilted as her eyes darted left and right, trying to figure out if he misspoke or something. But his anger quelled any courage of speaking up, and she looked away at the floor of the outside platform. Confusion and embarrassment stretched her face.
"Slyre you son of a whore... Hid her right under my nose..." He closed his eyes and sighed. After a few moments they opened again, observing Rina's confused expression. "...You said that it has been 12 years for you... While it has been two centuries for me... Are you sure it has been 12 years?" He asked Rina slowly.
She nodded slowly at first, but then sank her shoulders, shaking her head. "I- ... well, I tried to keep track of time, but... after a while, things started to not make sense. Like, the sun and moon, and the stars, too. Plus people I spoke to mentioned certain years and dates," she rambled, caught up in her bewildered state.
"But in the end, I decided that I just didn't look that much older. You know? I mean, look," she added, stepping back to let him examine her body at the height of its blossom .
"Do I look 200 years older to you, Solus?" she asked him, smirking with her hands on hips.
Solus broke into his usual, deep chuckle, amused by her sudden change of attitude to the Rina he remembered. "No, I'd say you look about... 28."
She beamed. "I've thought so, too," she nodded, but then a wayward thought struck her attention.
Slight panic skipped across her face and her teeth clenched. "Crap, the light," she mumbled, turning away to climb the ladder.
"Need to crank it to get it go--waah!!" she explained before suddenly slipping in front of him and failing to grasp the ladder for support.
Solus quickly reacted, catching her by her hips and lifting her up. His hold was gentle, loving almost. He guided her body towards the ladder, giving her a more comfortable reach for the rickety thing that she needed to climb. "Are you ok?" His voice echoed right beside her left ear.
"Y-Yes!" Rina warbled, curling her toes. With her new-found balance, she grabbed the rungs again. Climbing up, she looked back at him, "Thanks. Just give me a moment," she smiled, letting her ascent's swagger draw his mind if he cared for it.
Sounds of furious cranking could be heard above, but indeed only a moment passed before the lighthouse resumed its guiding function. Rina then reappeared and zipped down the ladder, her grin testifying of delight to be back with Solus. Letting her hair down with a flourish, she led him back into the interior without so much as a beckon or word. Down the stairs and into the main kitchen, she donned an apron and took a couple pots off of the burners.
Another man then strolled carefully into the room from a hallway beyond (and under the stairs). He seemed a little older than Rina and wore a freshly ironed suit, with polished shoes and combed hair. His movement suggested something was off, for he did not even look at Solus at first. Rina glanced at Solus wistfully, biting her lower lip to stymie her rising nervousness. Bringing a finger to her lips to beg his silence, to which Solus quietly nodded. She then trained her gaze on the other man with an air of honed professionalism: kind but detached.
"Finding your way, James?" she asked politely.
Solus remained silent, like asked.
"Oh, in more ways than one, thanks to you, dear. You've been nothing but a blessing to this lonely old man," he replied with a rasp, and gripped the chair before which a plate (his, presumably) had been set.
"You're welcome," she replied sweetly, and just to make sure that Solus understood, she mouthed to him: He's blind. Solus' face lit up with acknowledgement in reply.
He sat down, easing into the chair comfortably. "The smell here is delicious, Miss Grim," James noted, his clean-shaven smile growing and his hands patting the table with hungry eagerness.
Miss Grim... Solus thought to himself, quite amused by it all.
Rina winced at the praise, but only because the real Grim was here now. She tried very hard to not meet Solus's eyes, but her flushing face revealed the truth: she had been telling people that her last name was Grim. Whatever for, was a question Solus would have to ask her later.
"It is your last meal," Rina replied, hoping to steer the conversation to a close, "so I've made this one extra special."
She quickly poured the guest (perhaps?) a bowl of gumbo and then a glass of wine of some kind. She guided his hand to his spoon, patting it as she walked away from the table and gave Solus another (embarrassed) smile. She seemed eager to leave, but then she glanced back at James, and her brow furrowed. James seemed to be glaring at Solus, albeit his eyes' vacancy merely suggested a concern in the man's general direction. Solus, in turn glared back at him, completely ignoring Rina's nervous face. It is your last meal... Solus had a hunch as to why this man was here. But he would ask Rina later.
"James?" Rina prompted.
"Quite. Oh yes, I'm sorry. But er... is someone else here, dear?" he asked curiously, tilting his head.
"No," she replied sharply, then sighing. "Well, just don't worry about it. Today is your day, James, and your hour will come at the knell. Please excuse me."
James nodded and dug into his food. Rina then took Solus by the hand into the hallway that James had exited. With haste, they passed by an opened bedroom, where the bed was messy and unmade. That bedroom only confirmed his hunch. It was a shame that Slyre put her in this position. Keeping old men company in more ways than one during final moments in life. Perhaps Slyre pitied them, pitied their lifelong loneliness. She was back in the pit it seemed, and now Solus knew what all those bedrooms were for. A job's a job, he guessed. Further on, and in private now, she perched on the edge of a black sofa in some kind of lounge. A stark white door, slightly ajar with a golden handle, could be seen across the way; nothing but darkness could be seen in the crack. Rina glanced up at Solus expectantly, slight worry in her searching eyes, perhaps at what he might be thinking about all this. I hope I don't have another one today, not while Solus is here...
"I'm due a break now actually, so there shouldn't be any other interruptions," she finally stated, her voice quivering with excitement; or was it fear?
"Miss Grim, huh...?" Solus asked her with a childish grin on his face as he took a seat beside her. Despite the many other questions he had, this one was the most important to him, she used his name after all.
She met his grin with relief, sighing gently through her nose. Nodding, she curled a stray lock behind her ear and gathered her thoughts. She scooted closer, too.
"Well, yes," she replied meekly with a nervous chuckle. "It was kind of awkward actually, I got called things and just, well, I mean--I needed an anchor, you know?"
She looked down shyly. "And your name is what kept me grounded the most."
Great. I had a whole speech prepared for him, and now I just... I... really should have written this down, actually. She opted to lean against the sofa, instead of him, as she waited for his response. Her fingers played with each other across her belly.
"Grounded..." Solus thought on the word, but couldn't really think of a reason why she used it. "So that old fellow... Is he some kind of..." Solus searched for a word that she would understand the meaning of, and yet it would not piss her off. "...client?"
She glanced up, sensing his confusion. Her mind was already forming a way to explain as he spoke, but then a hard lump formed in her throat. Client. After all this time... two hundred years for him (and twelve years for her?), he thought that she'd just buckle and go back to what she once knew as a mentally-warped child prostitute? She sat a little straighter, staring hard into his right knee before lightly shaking her head.
"No," she whispered, and then swallowed. "Not at all."
He placed a hand on her shoulder, gently squeezing it, causing her tender shoulder to rise into his palm. "Ok." He nodded taking her word for it. But her reply said otherwise to him. He felt like an asshole just for asking it. "Sorry, I just... I shouldn't have said anything..." He let go of her shoulder and placed his now free hand on his knee, which her eyes followed as she nodded. An awkward moment loomed over them both as he thought about the next thing he was going to ask, hopefully one that wasn't so stupid. "You can tell me anything... you know that?"
Placing her hand on his hand, she leaned close and nodded. "I do, and it's okay. I mean, thinkin' about it, I'd probably wonder the same thing, too," she smiled, returning the same gentle squeeze.
She eased into a hug, wrapping her arms around his torso and rested her head on his chest. Her unbound hair splayed over him like a silken baby blanket. She closed her eyes for a moment, just merely resting as her breathing calmed down. "Was it hard? Without me..." she asked him.
"It was..." Solus replied, causing Rina to hug him tighter. "But that doesn't really matter now." He continued. "Knowing you're ok is enough for me to keep going..." He paused for a moment as he decided to change the subject. "So what exactly is the point of this lighthouse anyway? Apart from it being a lighthouse... One doesn't normally have so many rooms."
She blinked, sitting up a bit and leaning more into Solus. "Umm..." she mumbled, thinking of a way to put it simply. "From what I can understand, it... guides the dead here."
She glanced up at Solus, her eyes filling with awed confusion. "And... they have problems," she continued, glancing away embarrassingly, "and I've basically just been comforting them. Helping them come to terms with their... brokenness, I guess you can call it. But they don't remind me of ghosts or zombies, or anything like that, Solus. I wasn't told what to do, I just sort of knew..."
She sighed, really not liking her own explanation. "All I was told that if I leave the island or if the light goes out, I will surely die," she stated in a matter-of-fact tone. "Oh, and as to the rooms, I dunno. They were all here already. I've only kept them cleaned."
Rina glanced up at Solus, wondering if he wanted more information. "He seemed very much alive to me..." The man said, remembering his senses kicking in as the old man entered the kitchen back there. "So what do you mean by brokenness exactly?"
She sighed lightly through her nose, but the challenge of this was refreshing compared to her day-to-day routine. "Right. Well, let's see. It's like their body is alive... because I feed them, right? But inside, they... are dead. Broken willed. Their spirits were just out of there. And I... I guess I felt a sense of duty to just take care of them, talk to them. You know? Comfort them. And..."
She glanced at the white door before them. "When the knell strikes, that door opens and they leave. That's all I know. An' don't even ask me where the knell is, I've tried to find it. No luck at all, really," she chuckled.
Retreating back into his protective arms, she fingered his stomach through his coat, making little figure eights and trailing creases to flatten them out. I hope that satisfies him for now, because I really have no clue about this place. Long as I've been here, it's still a mystery.
"I see..." Solus said thoughtfully as he realized what she was talking about. "You mean Shattered Souls..." Remembering his broken self, and how he used such souls, as they seemed to be the only ones he had a chance to grasp when he practiced his necromancy. People who had suffered throughout their life, were left broken.
"I... guess?" she replied, somewhat confused, but then her body tensed up as some memories surfaced. "Though not ... not all of them made it..."
"What do you mean?" Solus asked curiously, his hand reaching for the back of her head.
She gave him a long look, the irises in her pupils swirling. Glancing away, almost closing her eyes. "Nothing dramatic. They just... stopped moving. Truly dead, I thought," she explained, her shoulders sinking. His caress gave her strength, so she continued. "I dug a grave. Well, catacombs, I think they're called? And... I buried them in there... that's all..."
"Hmm... A place where the dead go to die..." He said to himself in thought. Slyre's title crossed his mind. The Terminus. He brought her here to comfort the dying in their final moments. Well it was his theory, a shit one at best. One worth considering, though. "How do they leave?"
Rina opened her mouth, but then a long, deep knell struck. The sound echoed throughout the room and actually seemed to be coming from behind the white door, which then opened completely. She clutched Solus, almost digging her nails into his coat. She didn't normally hang around when this happened, and in fact, this was the first time she really saw the door open. The space beyond the door was sheer, foreboding darkness, and suddenly a huge black chain (which seemed eerily familiar) zipped out of the door. It dashed through the air soundlessly and out of the room, and Rina's jaw dropped. A moment later, James came stumbling down, a smile on his face like he knew all along what was going on. His hands clasped with manacles, the dark chain gently guided him to the door, pulling him within.
The door slammed shut with finality behind him... but then opened again, leaving itself slightly ajar. Rina's forehead was ebbed with sweat beads as she stared ahead of them.
Chains, green and flaming, just as large as the black one that appeared from the door, quietly crept out of his sleeves, causing Rina to flinch back but then watch with interest. The familiarity of the black chain drawing them towards the door. They inquisitively poked and prodded the air, as if they were smelling it. Eventually they arrived at the door, creeping towards the crack that showed the darkness beyond.
Her eyes widened as she realized what was happening. "Solus!" Rina gasped, seizing his arm. "Please don't..."
"It's ok..." He said as the molten links got closer to the darkness, green fire licking its way along, spewing heat into the room. Soon the 4 chains passed into the darkness, only to suddenly create a monstrous metal scream, quickly shooting back where they came from, into his arms. Fast enough to miss them if Rina blinked; however, the sound alone made her jump off of the sofa, with her back to the wall and arms spread out for balance.
"Why you gotta scare the crap out of me?" she hissed at him, though not truly upset.
Solus looked down at his hands, unsure of what the hell just happened. "They never done that before..." He took a mental note to look into it later.
She smirked, shaking her head. "Well let's get out of here, please. This is actually my least favorite room, I... c'mon," she fussed, taking him by the hand and jokingly dragging him out of the room.
Back in the kitchen, she pulled out a rocking chair and guided Solus into it. He could probably tell that she was used to bossing people around in the lighthouse. She then began putting dishes away and cleaning the dirty ones in a soapy basin. "So what have YOU been up to, Mister 200 years," she joked, still not sure of what to make of the discrepancy between their different perceptions of the time that had passed.
"Anything you wanna know about the outside world before I begin?" Solus asked.
For some reason, the question unsettled her. Perhaps because she had never been able to observe the outside world. Though she ran a lighthouse, she'd never even seen a ship pass by. She wasn't even sure where the mainland was that this lighthouse was supposed to guide ships to. Her hands in the hot water, she pondered a moment.
"Well, I guess I've gotta ask... has 200 years really passed by out there?" she asked, before turning her head over her shoulder and gazing at him with almost sullen eyes.
"Yeah... It has. The old mansion you remember is an overgrown ruin now..." He answered. "The maps have changed... Angels and Demons live together in an uneasy peace, to my surprise... Madagascar is under the sea... The list goes on really. I only returned to the Surface a few days ago myself."
She nodded as she continued washing a plate. "Hmm. Then my uncle had long since passed away," Rina remarked curtly, as if she'd just added the minor crime of jaywalking to a list containing genocide, rape, and murder.
"I was hunting Iotans for 120 years... And I never found him." Solus added. "Who knows, maybe he's still out there." Solus' flaming chains finally came back out again, though a little more timidly this time. "Iotan chains have a slight side effect of agelessness..."
"Do they?" she replied coldly, clearly bothered by something. Putting the plate in the dish drain, she went to work on a coffee cup. "What else have you been up to, Solus? I wish I could say my time here was exciting, but it was mostly just work and..."
She paused, glancing out the window, which almost nearly reflected a complete image of her. "Self-reflection," she added with a wry smirk.
"I was hunting the Iotans in an attempt to find you. I hoped that they had some answers, but they all turned out to be duds..." He added, the feeling of guilt slammed into him again. How was he so damn stupid to not even think of searching for her on the surface? "Before that I fought in the War. Don't know if you remember it. It was when He took you... It started just before then. Killed a five thousand year old ghost who had a sword made out of a demigod inside him. Then I worked with a Vampire for a while, trying to help him find his sister. That didn't really work out..." He paused, remembering that merely less than an hour and half ago, they were finally reunited.
"Then I began hunting the Iotans like I mentioned earlier, trying to find you. That led me to a place called The Subatomic Plane. But that also ended up being a dead end... Then I went to hell... Searching for a way to die..." He stopped there.
Rina listened to his fascinating tales quietly as she resumed her work. Some of the details were fleeting, but that was alright. She knew that she couldn't pretend to understand it all, though she sorely wished she could have been there with him. Then again, she wondered how things might have turned out if she had? Would it really had been for the better? She came to terms with her isolation a long time ago and she really enjoyed who she had become. But she never forgot Solus. Not once did she give up hope, though he clearly had given up on her. But she was not about to rub that in his face, because what if their positions had been switched?
A memory struck. I once saved him from those Iotans before, didn't I? She pursed her lips thoughtfully as she put the last dish away. His last comment then drew her gaze to him. He wanted to die... she sighed, nodding. She had wanted to die, too. But her experience with the broken ones here completely wiped out any sense of self, for she realized that there were people with bigger problems than her own.
"Come, let me show you around," she smiled sweetly, her eyes piercing his soul with love and affection. Or so she hoped.
"Yeah, let's go." He replied with a weary smile.
For the next 10 or so minutes, Rina escorted him, their arms in lock, everywhere, starting at the top. She explained that guests had different tastes in bedroom styles, and that they mostly just slept when they weren't eating or ruminating over their lives. Sometimes she had several at once, and had to keep some of them separated lest they fight and bicker. She showed Solus a library, filled with dusty tomes and scrolls. She told him that she had looked at each one, and only a few of them were in a language that she could understand. A few of them, however, were autobiographies, and seemed to talk about the previous caretaker of the lighthouse. It was how she came to have a better understanding of her purpose here.
Down on the ground outside she showed him a mining shaft that she had dug, having read a book on geology and mining that piqued her interest greatly. Several kinds of ores and rocks were under this island, and she had experimented with them all. Which then led them to her makeshift forge, though its smoke and flames were long gone. Several attempts to make guns were plastered on the wall, which she embarrassingly admitted was just for fun. Next, she showed him a garden, full of exotic vegetables and fruit that seemed to thrive on this island. She told Solus that someone had already made the garden, and she had merely needed to weed it before it would grow.
Lastly, she showed him her bedroom, which was located at the base of the lighthouse. It was simple, but personal, with several drawings and paintings tacked to the walls. There was one of Thorpe, with a man standing before it, whom she said was supposed to be her uncle. Some of them were even of Solus and the Mustang, and the House of Grim. She shyly told him that she thought of him every single day and spent a few hours practicing her memories, she called it. In other words, reflecting what he had taught her and committing them to memory lest she forget.
She led him to her personal study in the corner, where she had practiced her magic over the years and honed her skills. The conversation shifted, then, to that of Slyre, and how not once did she see him here or hear from him. He'd merely dropped her off and reminded her that she would surely die if she left the island or let the light go out.
"But don't think I didn't make a boat or two," she added, exhausted somewhat as she sat on her bed and beckoned Solus to a chair next to the night stand. The candles in her room burned slowly, and in the windows, one could see the powerful beam of light slicing through the darkness over the tireless ocean waves.
"They were certainly seaworthy, but I never found the courage to actually leave," she continued, crossing her legs. "Of course, once I realized that the... guests were going to be a thing, I just focused on them... and their problems."
She nodded, complete with her story and feeling fairly satisfied. Her eyes glanced up at him under slightly battering eyelashes.
"Well..." Solus said as he pulled out the hourglass from his pocket, checking the time. He had one hour left. "Just because Slyre gave me an hourglass, doesn't mean I didn't come without a plan. Or several."
"That's my Solus," she replied coquettishly, tilting her head as though she wanted to hear more.
But then a thought came to mind, and worry stretched her face a bit thin. "Do you think you can beat him?" she asked carefully, clearly having a point to bring up once he'd answered.
"I don't intend to beat him, not fairly anyway. But if my first plan works out, that won't really matter anyway." He replied. "You see... He offered me two hours, for one hour of my own time, and a specific job. I don't know what the job entails just yet. But hopefully I can convince him for either more time, or your permanent return..."
Rina's eyes glassed over as he mentioned the words 'hours', though she merely blinked, nodded, and continued listening. She pulled her legs closer to her, laying on her side as she rested her head on her large, velvet red pillow.
"I see..." she whispered, then looked away. "Perhaps he wants you to kill someone. I've thought of why he took me... and I thought he was going to rip me to pieces..."
Her lips trembled, but she persisted strongly. "He certainly had the look to do so, but it seemed as though he realized something, and then took me to the lighthouse."
She glanced up at him. "The lighthouse wasn't our first stop. I think he took me to the Western... Realm? It was particularly hellish, but that was all he said," she added, nodding lightly, " 'Welcome to the Babysitter's home, the Western Realm.' but I've no idea what that all meant."
"Yeah..." He didn't really know what to say to that. "Do you have a vial?" He asked quite suddenly.
Smirking at the odd request, Rina rolled off of her bed and swaggered over to a closet. Opening it, one could see a few plants inside that were being allowed partial sunlight. The earthly smell of hanging, dried roots and herbs filtered into the rest of the room. In a tiny wooden box, she withdrew a clean vial. She handed it to him, her brow rising with curiosity.
Solus took it his hand and inspected it in the light. It seemed to be good enough. "Now I will need a clean syringe, and a wine cork."
"You're awfully specific, you know that?" she teased, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her nose into his face.
"This is important, Rina." His tone was firm. There was always a time for intimacy, but it was not now.
Little did she know the truth of that fact. "So is this," she countered, kissing him squarely on the spot below his eyes and above his mouth. But then she obeyed and retrieved the requested items from the same closet.
"Now alcohol and cotton. And before I forget, a tourniquet." He quickly stated as he inspected the syringe and tested the wine cork, seeing if it fit into the opening of the vile, and it did so perfectly.
"Um, 'kay," she replied, leaving the bedroom. Her footsteps could be heard zipping up the stone stairs, but before long, she returned with a flourish. "I've got this place memorized!" she giggled.
"Perfect..." Solus added, taking the items and placing them neatly beside him. "Now I need your arm." He said to her, his eyes piercing into hers.
She blanched. He could have just told me he wanted to draw blood... Sighing lightly, she cocked her eyebrows and rolled her sleeve, offering her arm like it was a piece of meat. On her skin, very faint traces of glowing runes could be seen, along with her veins. She stared right back into those eyes of his, completely undaunted by his seriousness. If this had been 200 years ago at home with him, it would have been like a determined bunny trying to give a hardened wolf its meanest death-stare. But now she was something else, not even a wolf.
Perhaps a lioness.
Solus noticed her return stare. She really had grown up, and not just physically. He gently took her hand, which she smirked at, and his rough palm slowly ran up her forearm, his thumb prodding the skin for veins. The runes on her skin were a curious sight, they only existed within before. He wrapped the tourniquet around her bicep, to push the blood down her arm.
Solus scooted a little closer to her as he placed the needle of the syringe on the vein he chose, not breaking the skin just yet. He looked up at her, straight at her lips, thought it was always difficult to tell what he was looking at. Suddenly his jagged lips collided with hers, drawing her into a deep kiss as the needle broke the skin, and pushed into the vein. His thumb pulled back on the plastic piston, her blood, which glowed slightly from the sigils on every cell, flowed into the syringe. Rina was certainly distracted by the man's considerable trickery, but she welcomed it greedily. After they parted, she hazily looked down at what he'd drawn and only felt a bit woozy for multiple reasons. She perched on the bed just in time.
"What happened?" she asked him, squinting at the syringe.
Solus placed the syringe into the vial and pushed down on the piston, ejecting the blood into the glass, and sealing the vial with the cork. "That should do the trick." He said as he pocketed the filled vial.
He looked at her woozy face, removing the tourniquet. A small dab of blood emerged from the prick, but it quickly ended there. "I drew some blood so I can track you with it. Hopefully I'll find you that way." What he didn't tell her was the purpose of the kiss. A small portion of the Black Tar that pumped through his body, entered hers, and it would be there for as long as she lived. He hoped, that it would eventually reach her spine, in doing so it establish some kind of connection between them. And as he would search for her, he would be following a 'hot and cold' trail. The 'hotter' it got, the closer he was to the parasite.
She stared at him, glancing at something over his shoulder before looking back and nodding. "Clever. I was hoping for something like that," she remarked with a smile.
The calendar on the back of her door had also drawn her sight, reminding her of her futility of trying to keep time here. Time. She pressed forward, glancing at his pocket. "Wait, how much time is left?" she asked him.
Solus pulled out the hourglass, and stared at it intently. "I think we've got a good 45 minutes left," he said, relaxing more into his chair.
"Mm." Rina nodded, tilting her head in thought. Something to do, he's already seen everything...
"What do you suggest, Rina?" he asked her.
She pursed her lips. "Let's..." she began before the light-beam device lost power again, fading everything in the room to black.
"Fuck!" she cried.
------------
Light cracked into the window pane, which had been opened half-way to let fresher air inside. The candles had gone out. Breaths in sync relayed back and forth peacefully, dreamily. They held each other, lightly cuddling on their side under a thin bed sheet. Rina hadn't really slept, as she mostly just basked in the feeling of their coupling heat.
Solus wasn't sure where to start, especially after that. So he started with a gentle, "Hey..."
"Mmm, another go?" she asked lazily like a content little kitty.
Solus took a glance at the hourglass on the bedside table. There was very little time left. "We have 5 minutes left..." He said with a sigh.
"Time is a bittersweet thing, isn't it?" she asked, her strength growing to keep him closer.
"Yeah..." He replied, running a hand along her back, his fingers tracing her spine.
"I'm scared, ... Solus," she replied, lightly squirming against the tickling sensation.
"You're not the only one."
"I know..." she whispered and hugged him once before she let him go to dress himself.
Regrettably he knew he had to get up. It was an unfortunate necessity. Parting with Rina's warmth was like parting with his skin, and deep down it was painful. As he rose, she watched him admirably as he picked up his belongings and donned them. This wasn't Solus' fastest attempt at dressing though. The sadness of leaving her behind for a second time was killing him inside. Rina could actually feel the full weight of his heavy heart resting inside her own, dragging her inward to consider her own sadness. But for what it was all worth, the essence he'd left behind and their entire 2 hour visit would sustain her for many months to come.
She hoped that it would sustain him as well.
"Until the Next, my love," she whispered wantonly and held out her hand to take his, which, he, of course, took without hesitation. But that 'fare well' phrase sounded familiar, he just couldn't pinpoint where he'd heard it. He thought nothing of it. "I'm not giving up this time. Now that I know where to look... This isn't goodbye."
She nodded and let him take his leave of the scene of their most righteous reunion. I am so happy.
Solus didn't dally, for if he stayed longer, the less he wanted to leave. So he quickly dashed out of her room, and out to the beach of the island. He looked straight up at the quickly fading stars. Not much time. He thought as he pulled out his phone. Turning in the camera and quickly snapping a panoramic image from the horizon to 90 degrees above his head. And as he pocketed the phone, the hourglass in his clutched hand shattered, and the sand particles crawled up his arm. It enveloped him entirely in less than a moment and then shrunk him down rapidly.
The sand of the hourglass remained on the beach as Solus was returned to the House of Grim, only to find Layna's body gone, the blood cleaned up, and the "fake" bomb disposed of. At his feet, he would find a little white card, carefully placed on a piece of junk so that he would see it.
It read:
'To Whom This Should Concern,
24 hours from now, we shall meet.
The location is your choice.
The promise of certitude is mine.
Sincerely,
D'
As Rina observed Solus's exodus off the island through her bedroom window, she pulled her bathrobe fully over her, fastening its belt. It was another day, but it would be unlike any other.
A large, white-gloved hand carefully placed itself on her shoulder. But she didn't even flinch, as though she'd sensed the stranger's presence beforehand.
"Well done," a rich, dutiful voice remarked.
She didn't reply, but her eyes fell to the floor with anticipation of their future.
------------
THE WAVES POUNDED the sides of the small, thin white speedboat that sliced across the waters like a possessed knife. Upon it, two figures stared straight ahead, having heard the call of duty in this modern day of warfare. Their combined visage was of one nature: stalwart drives, silent, somber emotions. And a reckoning.
Innocence Island was in danger, and as the huge alchemic pressure directed the blind Hybrid at the helm and the shivering Huntress clutched his left arm, they both knew death was ahead of them.
Ilana Mhori recalled the last few hours carefully, to keep her mind off the bitter cold; before they heard the Call, they'd been chilling at her beach house in Florida, Netflix playing Criminal Minds as she'd laid on the couch, sick to her stomach; he had been cooking for her, that pink apron almost didn't even fit his wide physique. And then their... last mission. It had ended that morning. Against the Body Painter. 'He was just... a kid...'
Something colder than the icy Atlantic winds chilled her spine, but having experienced this enough times already, Ilana endured it.
How could she not?
She glanced up at Ethan Baine, the coloured man having stood relatively still, his large hands grasping the wheel tightly, ever since they had left with such haste. In hindsight, she'd thought it funny how easily Ethan had 'borrowed' the boat, for at the time she'd been busy consoling the owner. And his wallet. In truth, they would have simply gone to a nearby asylum hub to get some help teleporting to Innocence, but they were on their alch-fast, something they did yearly to practice restraint on their alchemy use, as well as challenge each other to invent new ways that suppressed the need for alchemy; powerful methodologies that normal humans couldn't truly comprehend, let alone wield against monsters. Ilana only hoped they'd get there in time.
But at the moment, she could only concern herself with her partner; His substantial, but subdued distress leeched into her psyche, through their link. But she knew better than to probe him about it, as she rarely could soothe him with her own emotions. He shifted his weight towards her; an acknowledgement. 'He notices me so easily...'
"Um..." Ilana muttered, breaking the silence in between the waves. Despite having been partnered for a handful of years, she was still getting used to her partner's demeanor and nuances.
"Hmm?" he noised deeply, pressing on her mind with a crystal clear clarity that made her even more nervous.
She could barely think. Why was that? Maybe she was still feeling ill, albeit she'd stopped coughing and sneezing a few hours ago. She shook her head, hoping he'd disregard her untimely utterance. But of course he did, yet his distress spiked briefly. It alarmed her, stilled her breath. Did she do that? Should she say sorry? Her gaze fell downwards slightly as her nose scrunched up a bit to the left, as it was wont to do when embarrassment splashed across her pores and freckles.
"Wat on yer mind, Illa?" he interrupted gently. 'Thank you.'
"Oh, just... Innocence. Prompt was so urgent, you know?" she replied, looking up at him.
"Mmhmm... she's there too. Pree bad..." Ethan commented.
"Bet Geko's there as well," she smirked.
"Oh, don't even start... ha...damn loli," Ethan joked, causing her to swat him lightly.
Ilana beamed. She made him chuckle. "Game of chicken always piss him off though, remember? Always savin' ya," Ethan went on, reflecting on Geko always saving Ilana when she was in danger.
"Yeah, but only because of your shenanigans. Too many risks..." Ilana countered, scolding him with a squinted gaze and smirk.
"Baby, I don't risks. Y'know that. Always calculated, all scenes plot out, yeah? Always has been," the Sciencer snorted, shaking his head.
She rolled her eyes. "Ah huh..."
"Still be nice, though. Like, raise his spirits, you know? It's a hard marriage," Ethan stated, sighing slightly.
She was moved. "Well, sure, I guess. I mean, yeah he'd love that, I'm sure. But after the mission, okay?" she told him, to which Ethan did not respond.
Ilana sighed with relief. She knew now was not the time for a crazy plan that somehow always worked out. Not when Innocence was danger, when ... the kids. She closed her eyes, the faces of many young ones flashing before her. Looking up, smiling. Frowning. Shocked. In love. Adoration. Inspired. All such were their moods, evident with each nuance of the mouth, eyes, and wrinkles. And she loved each one of them, especially... a very young brunette gazed at her mind's eye. Her mouth soured to a frown. Who was that? No. She remembered. But... was she still there?
Ilana swallowed, feeling like she was forgetting something important amongst the things she did remember. 'Bits...?'
Bits of the water splashed her face, snapping Ilana out of her reverie. She noticed now that storms across the horizon had gathered already, signalling their approach into the Area.
Ethan sped the boat up again. Again? Ilana glanced down at the lever. It'd been at full crank since they started onward, haven't it? Speed alone wouldn't get them to Innocence in time, but she knew Ethan could find shortcuts where nobody else could; in the weather, the waves, micromanaged actions. Plus, it was a beeline after all, and not all parts of the ocean moved at the same speed. So why did he speed up?
"Ethan?" Ilana asked, but then realized the left side of his mouth had curled up.
Unfortunately, she thought nothing of it and let him focus.
A few minutes later, Ilana found herself looking around, noticing a few familiar signs regarding the situation that Ethan had put them in; they were in a hurry; people were in danger; they were moving fast; he was in control; they haven't discussed the plan; he was smirking.
Her pupils dilated as her head tilted up, a bodyless sense of numbness encompassing her nerves as though she was a head floating in space.
Ethan was in control.
She was in the dark.
The smirk.
Ethan, was, in, control...
Her head tilted back down now and her nostrils flared as it dawned on her mind, and what he'd said earlier about a game of chicken.
'Uh oh...'
"It on the horizon?" Ethan asked, startling her.
"Uh! Um, yeah... I see it," Ilana replied, nodding quickly.
She focused on the island, almost forgetting her epiphany as she squinted for details. Something. Anything that would indicate its current state. But then Ethan shifted into high gear, the final gear. The boat roared forward with a surge, nearly forcing her back, but he'd held onto her by flexing his arm tightly onto her grasp. This also served to remind her of the game.
The Game.
Ilana bit her lip gently, a sinking feeling of grief starting to anchor her to cold, hard reality - Ethan remained quiet in her mind.
'About time, heh... ah, here comes Denial...' Ethan mused, his plan churning closer to fruition.
'It's nothing. No big deal. Reading into things again. Even if not, he's probably just trying to scare me, win our alch fast... yeah, I'm gonna have a good laugh about this later with him and the crew. Heh, heh... heh... eheh...' her mind raced.
Still, she eyed the lever. Then Ethan. Then the lever again. She knew they had to slow down at some point. They couldn't just crash into the damn island's pier. Maybe he was just preoccupied with haste, and simply forgot. So, she (rather nonchalantly) slipped one hand onto the lever. She simultaneously rubbed her head against his arm, her silken hair tickling him (to no avail).
A dark flash crossed her hand, stinging her as she withdrew her hand and recoiled. Did he just slap her hand? The size of his balls pulled on her sense of gravity. Ilana grabbed the lever this time, all coyness and pretense gone. Again, he slapped her hand away - not enough to truly hurt, she knew he was holding back, but it was enough to make her lose her footing.
"Nope!" Ethan barked, as she teetered backwards in the bouncy boat.
She knew it. He was fucking up to something! Again! Her eyes twisted with a glare as she saw the lever (broken) sailing over her head. A gasp dropped her mouth. Now their course was set. For certain. She sat there, staring up at him.
'...and now Anger...' he nodded, as she finally got to her feet.
Ilana swat at the air. "Well, this is just fucking perfect, Ethaniel!" she shouted at him.
She kicked the floor. "Stupid ocean! Stupid speedboat!" she growled.
She threw a bucket out of the boat. "I'm gonna bite someone in their fucking face!" Ilana cried, inhaling another breath.
She whipped her head up and down, her lungs at full power as she reached a feverish pitch.
"Muuuther fucker! MOTHER fucker!" she bellowed, stressing each syllable, "Mother FUCKER! Stupid AMRO!"
As she continued venting her frustration, her toe was stubbed. "Aww fuck! ... FUUUUUUUUCK!!!!!!" she screamed in pain.
'...followed by Bargainin'...' he smirked lightly.
The island was getting closer. She saw this, knowing she had little time. She clung to his arm, standing up on her toes, trying to get in his line of sight. He hadn't responded to her verbal pleas, so she tried their mental link.
'Ethan, are you there? It's me... Ilana. P-please. Pleeease.. don't do this. I... I promise. N-No more... uh, blowing things out of proportion. And I'll eat when you make food! And, and no nagging. Yeah, I'll give you space! 'kay? Heh... we got a deal?'
"Nupe," Ethan replied out loud.
She broke.
'...dere's Depression. Yeeeup.' Ethan thought, gripping the steering wheel tighter.
Ilana bawled uncontrollably, tears streaking down her red cheeks as she grasped the back of Ethan's left leg with both trembling arms. Her hair continued to whip wildly as she pressed her forehead firmly up against his thigh. The roar of the speedboat's engine and the erratic waves clapping them on by could barely drown her out, cutting her off every few seconds. But Ethan would not budge, even as she begged him with nonsensical noises and mewling, her tone switching between lowly groaning to high pitch screeches, and all in between. After a couple minutes, she hushed and sat back on her haunches, her knees and legs forming a W; 'twas the way she once perched as a child that merited scoldings from her guardians.
And 'twas how she felt now before her partner: like a child.
Ethan turned his head, going through the motions of glancing down at her (even though he could see right through his flesh and skull).
"Mm... you a'ight, baby?" he asked calmly.
She didn't answer him, her bangs covering her eyes and lips quivering.
After a few minutes, Ilana was now standing there next to him, her face dried and composed. She no longer clutched his arm, simply grasped the railing and looked forward with him. She spoke not a single word, nor did her lovely face, transfixed serenely by the sight of their destination, portray any concern whatsoever.
"You know something-" she finally stated, nodding slowly as her eyes drifted to her right.
'And finally, ... Acceptance,' Ethan smiled proudly.
"-I'm cool with this," Ilana stated with a tranquil voice. "I mean, yeah, I bet Heaven has all the kids we've saved, all the ones we've put down, all happy and waiting for us. No alchemy. No fighting. No speedboats. Right?"
Ethan nodded. "Hey, maybe, huh?"
As Innocence neared closer, Ilana started breathing quickly again, her nostrils blaring loudly. This was it. She understood his plan. He was driving them straight to the greatest source, on boat. A speedy one. That needed water to move, not land.
"You gonna jump first, you know. Mmhmm," Ethan teased her.
"Ethan. I'm not in a good mood right now," Ilana droned.
"You need greater heights, Taj, but you gonna use alchemy?" Ethan pressed on, bristling his partner's fear of... pushing herself harder and harder with aerial maneuvers.
"Ethan... it's just a silly bet... c'mon..." she stated with a sigh.
"Nope. Our way of life, Illa. Why change it? It works," Ethan nodded.
They were going to die. She knew this now. The man was insane. Why hadn't she capped him already? Asylums were supposed to take down their partners when they succumb to Insanadiction. She was clearly breaking protocol.
"Receive my soul, Adonai, I await your loving embrace..." Ilana prayed softly, feeling the weight of her pending death.
"Hey! Ain't got time to die, fuck," Ethan hissed at her when suddenly the entire island seemed to have exploded.
Even Ethan could see it, and as Ilana cried out in surprise, covering her eyes, he simply stared ahead, trying to grasp what just happened. He'd felt an alchemic drive that nearly fried his mind, but it hadn't come from the pressure source he'd been trailing.
"WHAT'D YOU DO?" Ethan roared at Ilana, his teeth bared.
"Wh-what? I-" she protested with confusion as she held on tightly to him.
"-YOU PISSED OFF GOD!" he spat, driving like a mad man as he veered sharply to the right.
"Ethan, stop! What you doing, it's still there I can see-" she pleaded.
"-Water! The fucking water!!" Ethan shouted, his face a complete grimace.
Ilana's eyes went wide as she realized the gap around the island where the water had been... was now filling, and pushing out an island-shaped tsunami all away from Innocence.
It was coming right toward them, picking up height and speed.
Fortunately, Ethan had a plan. He always did. He quickly explained to Ilana through their link that tsunamis were not one wave, but several, all of which was called a wave train. The smaller waves broke apart over time, and even go in the opposite direction of the initial wave build up, back towards Innocence. She understood that part, of course. It made sense. Of course they still had to dodge the main one, but she didn't grasp why the smaller waves were important to him.
It was a close shave, and even Ethan felt they weren't going to make it. It was actually fairly trivial to bypass the main wave, but it was still a sight to behold: like a giant claw raking out of the ocean as it went past them. Ilana could barely think as Ethan navigated close to it, chasing one of the smaller waves as they broke apart and gained height. She couldn't see how they were going to 'catch' one, but she was confident that his little scheme was going to prove her right. That failure was possible, even in his master plans.
Then... the water below the speedboat began to pick them up, pushing up higher and higher. And Ilana gave up. It was stupid to argue with Ethan when Nature seemed to be on his side.
So Team Mischief Maven sailed towards Innocence, on a speedboat atop a mini tsunami that was powered by black balls of steel.
As Maeve and Kiara renewed their assault on the Vile, and the rest of the young asylums have gathered, in their own ways, a large shadow flew over them as a tidal wave washed on by past the beach. The sound of a roaring engine split the air. If they'd look up, they'd see a single man standing atop the helm, bracing himself for impact. Another figure would catch their eye, perhaps - a small lady with wild hair and fearlessness forced into her eyes. She landed in a tree, disappearing from sight.
But the man, now he waited til the last moment as the speedboat was about to crash upon the Vile's head.
Ethan's body contorted as he rolled off, impacting the ground and rolling some more. His momentum brought him towards the Chrono, but then he uncurled and skidded slightly into a kneeling position a couple yards away from her. The remnant of force brought him to a stand, onto his tiptoes as he then maintained his balance and stood at attention. With his back to the motorboated Vile, a gold emblem on a cigar shimmered with light as he brought it to his mouth.
"I win," Ethan announced (to Ilana, despite facing everyone else).
Then the speedboat exploded, too. Of course it did. Flaming shrapnel encroached on the teams' safety, but only a bit of it landed on the black man's shoulder, which he helped himself to.
Lighting his cigar, then brushing off the shrapnel, Ethan turned towards Julie, his hands on his hips. "Hey boss," he nodded, bowing ever so slightly.
Ilana slid down the side of a tree, pulling twigs and leafy bits out of her hair. She sauntered towards Ethan and Julie, past the group of asylums as she glanced at a few of them. Her facial expression stated only one simple fact: she had no fucks left to give. Nope, not a single one.
"Hey, Taj, you so jumpy today," Ethan greeted her with a half-grin.
"Shut. Up," Ilana enunciated with a scowl.
CRACK
Ilana's 73rd David Jumbo sunflower seed (Jalapeno flavor) lost its shell, which then flew out with an audible spoot and landed on the previously pristine floor, next to a few other shells. Her partner stood on her left, slightly behind her, with his hands hanging their thumbs on his belt like some kind of cowboy. Team Mischief Maven had arrived without notice, seeming to have merged with the crowd without ever having NOT been apart of it. Paradoxical stealth at its finest.
Yet the Air Jew herself gave no shits about maintaining that cover, her munching and spooting highlighting every silence in the room, every pause between sentences spoken by the other people. Her eyes had been staring blankly, bored, even as she occasionally caught Maeve's ogling. After all that pointless debriefing, and a few introductions, now suddenly a pique of interest? Her cheeks flushed something fierce, only then fading as her eyes narrowed at the (quite) younger girl. Looking at Maeve just made Ilana want to beat Ethan to a pulp with his fucking hand before fucking his brains out. But then again, she wouldn't win. In the end. Not with that anaconda lurking around anyway. But here, Maeve, the schoolyard bully, seemed in need of a reality check regarding the pecking order.
CRACK spoot 'You fuck that one?' she'd snorted in Ethan's mind.
The Sciencer remembered Maeve, back from Innocence. 'Nope.' he'd replied, thinking about which bloodline they were gonna babysit.
CRACK 'Mine.' spoot
'Yah, whatev.'
'No whatev, you're not gonna have a lonely!'
'...wat?'
'Yeeeah, I can smell his sex, but it came outta his mind,' Ilana giggled, sending Ethan a mental picture of Raytheon.
'...That's nice, hon,' Ethan mentally sighed.
She chuckled again, bunching her seeds to one side of her mouth. Just as Raytheon's introduction ended, which had given Ethan no cause for recourse in his pondering, the crazed Israeli tensed up. The room disappeared. The outside ate them. And eyes seemed to have fallen on them. Why? They were going to shoot them. IT WAS GO-TIME!
'Relax, Illa, I got this.' Ethan assured her, reminding her of introductions.
Ilana visibly rolled her eyes, making a show of looking away and retreating behind Ethan as he came forth. She hated introducing herself to people who were just going to die, or worst yet, just fucking disappear. Then she'd have to think about them. Most of them kids, never had sex. Or enough of it. But always high strung and cock-sure. But they just die, their bodies rip, minds clipped, all of them w---
'SHUT DA FUCK UP!!' Ethan roared, instantly quelling Ilana and shrinking her presence in his mind to the size of a pinpoint.
Yet on the surface of things, Ethan seemed to have merely stalled, or maybe just considering his words. Especially with Benedict Cumberbatch (Raytheon) over there, about to blow out another monologue. Minimalist? Ethan considered the irony of the man's very words, figuring it didn't translate over to verbal exchanges.
"Sup, y'all, so yeh... I'm Ethan and that's I--" he began, just as Ilana hopped onto his back and used him as a diving board.
The Air Jew sailed toward Maeve just as she finished stretching and summing up the mission. A mischievous grin and impish visage was probably the last thing Maeve was expecting after a debriefing, but Ethan, having hardly been floored by this antic, shook his head. He simply stood there, a look on his face that said he wouldn't care even if a puppy lit on fire just fell on his head from a 10 story building while C'thulhu popped out of the ocean and pantsed him. Landing in front of her and Kiara, Ilana proceeded to leer and inch right into Maeve's personal space, the momentum of her descent cracking the ground. With her breath hot and dank from the soiled-shell seeds in her mouth, it was not hard to imagine its insides.
"Hiya cunt, how ya doin'?" Ilana rasped, a giggle somehow escaping a throat that had no air flow.
Her hands, claws really, then snatched the Banshee's face, pulling her down to her height, after which her tongue dove into Maeve's mouth, along with a few choice seeds that would be left behind. Swirling around only briefly but slipping into every nooky and cranny, Ilana retreated her assault, taking Maeve's breath with her and nearly asphyxiating the poor asylum. Yet poorer still was on the rise. Ilana then used an ounce of her strength (1%? 5%? Something) and backhanded Maeve so hard that she flew off her feet and bounced on the ground. With a huff and growing battle lust, the veteran slipped up onto a nearby crate, and faced everyone in mid chew. CRACK...
spoot
She pointed a gnarled finger at every other gal, her voice on the verge of cracking. "Your bodies will rip, minds clip, and all yer pink canoes are mine!" she barked, before vanishing with a mere slip around a building corner.
Ethan chewed lightly on the inside of his mouth. In the distance, someone screamed in surprise, then the sound of breaking glass prompted him.
"That's Ilana. ... supposedly." he finished, taking off after her with a jog.
"We'll catch up," he hollered at Crow and Reri, as everyone (perhaps equal parts bemused and shocked) was ushered towards the ship that was definitely not going to sink at some point.
RP Timeline: 12 years, 6 months, and 28 days as of 4/4/2016
Preferred Pronouns: he, his, and him; It on occasion.
Preferred Genres:
Angst (I will not play an angsty PC, but will happily play one who yells at them for all the bullshit)
Apocalyptic (Pre, Mid, and Post)
Bodily Gore (I am a big fan of making monsters for people to kill, if they can)
Coming of Age
Crime
Delivery/Mailman (yeah I'm serious)
Dystopia (with a rebellion plot)
Fantasy (Medieval, Modern, High)
Historical with Alternative Events
Mecha
Mystery
Psychological Horror (Ask Yoshua or Celaira if you want deets)
Punk (Cyber, Steam)
Redemption (not necessarily of a religious brand)
Romance (Light and Heavy)
School/Academy Life (Mundane and Magical)
Science-Fiction (especially with complex universe, but not necessarily)
Slice-of-Life
Supernatural
Tragedy (I have a strong obsession with non-happy endings, and oft-times, I find these in Dark, Grim genres)
War (Combatant and Civilian)
Smut-Only (putting this one here, by itself, because I hate it, and I've done it to death, and it's fucking boring, and it's not for me ^_^)
Apocalyptic (Pre, Mid, and Post)
Bodily Gore (I am a big fan of making monsters for people to kill, if they can)
Coming of Age
Crime
Delivery/Mailman (yeah I'm serious)
Dystopia (with a rebellion plot)
Fantasy (Medieval, Modern, High)
Historical with Alternative Events
Mecha
Mystery
Psychological Horror (Ask Yoshua or Celaira if you want deets)
Punk (Cyber, Steam)
Redemption (not necessarily of a religious brand)
Romance (Light and Heavy)
School/Academy Life (Mundane and Magical)
Science-Fiction (especially with complex universe, but not necessarily)
Slice-of-Life
Supernatural
Tragedy (I have a strong obsession with non-happy endings, and oft-times, I find these in Dark, Grim genres)
War (Combatant and Civilian)
Smut-Only (putting this one here, by itself, because I hate it, and I've done it to death, and it's fucking boring, and it's not for me ^_^)
Participation Type: Unbound (2 primarily, 3 secondarily, and 1 tertiarily)
Roleplay Samples: These first two samples are from my younger days, on forums long dead or abandoned. Made my head spin to read them again... but in Essence and Chrono Asylum samples, those are from this site, but sadly after Guildfall. Wish I had some saved posts Pre-Guildfall, like Obri Matei Groza ;~; ...
(( Mikael the Rounin - Posted: Fri Mar 24, 2006 11:40 am ))
*Flashback*
3 days ago; morning...
“Your family, boss,
I’m killin’ em off.
Catch ‘em in the night,
I’ll finish ‘em off.
The wave’s signed and
I’ve been paid, my friend.
So just consider it a loss.
I slice one.
Then I slice again.
I’ll slice you.
I’ll slice your friend.
But who I slice depends,
On the wave
And how much you spend!
Hark! It ain’t no jest!
I’ve gone to finish the rest!
Oh! The steel impulse to kill
And use my skill!
Any job you name,
I’m capable, but make sure
You got my wave though!
It’s major belli, aye!
Emotionless, openness, hopeless,
When I’m tracking them.
Getting rich with luxuriousness, aye.
Poppin’ bars, I’m gonna getcha
Slippin’ up and livin’ the night life.
No one’s too big to get hit.
It’s anybody for the right price.
That means I’m a sinner…
So be it.
A cold-hearted killer…
Believe it!
Send me a good wave;
To guarantee that I convey.
Wave man, it pays...
To let the steel blade slay!
‘Cause my life
Is takin’ your life
Wave Man!
I’m a killer, aye!
It pays for me
To let the blade slay.
‘Cause my life is takin’ your life
Wave Man!
I’m a wave man;
It pays to let
The steel blade slay.
‘Cause my life
Is takin’ your life
Wave Man!
I’m a killer, aye!
It pays for me,
To let the blade slay.
‘Cause my life is takin’ your life
Wave Man!!”
…
A roar of applaud erupted and Mikael closed his eyes. As he opened them, he remembered where he really was: in a bar, far away from that castle. On his last mission – or a wave, as some call it around here – a king hired Mikael to assassinate an old wizard that was manipulating his young daughter with financial usurping and… personal pleasure. Mikael didn’t care truly about the daughter or wizard or even the king for that matter! All he cared about was his next meal, bed, and drink.
“In fact, skip all that, and just give me the drink,” He thought to himself, as he looked at his bowl of rice and little meat patties.
He took another sip of his Sake as he remembered the song again. That king’s jester was performing a play for him and Mikael, as well as other various ‘wave men’ that came to heed the king’s call. There were also several knights who despised the wave men or ‘merc scum’ as they call them. The elegant knights also heeded the king’s call to destroy that wizard. All of them, of course, for money, power, women (or men), slaves or whatever, accepted the burden. None of them came back alive.
Except Mikael, that is. He single handily slew that wretched wizard and his army of undead warriors. Mikael also found himself defending against other wave men and knights, as they encountered him on the way to the wizard’s cave in the mountain. Afterwards, he raided the wizard’s home, with the intention to selling it off to the wealthiest traders in town. He had no intention of keeping things he had no idea how to use and he did fetch a pretty hefty price, which ensured his next meals, stays and drinks.
“That sure was ironic, though,” Mikael thought, remembering the jester’s song, “It was such a reminder of this odd life I live – as a rounin.”
He quickly took another sip of his Sake and saw that is was empty. Being a bit glum, he looked over hazily for the barkeeper that served him. He could hear numerous people talking about the latest news in the town – about a tax collector gone corrupt. It wasn’t the first time Mikael heard of such gossip. He spotted the young barkeeper, as well as keeping his eyes off her large open cleavage, as she came towards him with a jug of sake.
Just then, said tax collector came through the door and took up a seat next to Mikael. The rounin saw that he was a fine looking man, with expensive clothing and large beard. There was a silence when the man entered, but it resumed shortly after. The lovely barkeeper came over to the tax collector and poured him a glass of Sake.
“Thank you, dear,” He said, smiling at her knowingly, “You were quite lovely last night.”
The barkeeper giggled and winked at him, then turned to Mikael with the same smile. The rounin was sickened by the tax collect as the whore made a large show of bending over for Mikael (and thus, tempting the young warrior to glance), but the rounin’s face remained unmoving as stone. He watched as she was about to pour the sake in, but then she stood up and looked over to the kitchen and shouted a question. The rounin’s head was indeed facing where the young lass’s looked and shouted, but he was actually snake-eyeing her; watching what she was doing. The hairs on his head and body stood up when she saw her hand slip something into the sake jug. She then muttered a quick apology to Mikael as she poured him another glass of Sake.
Watching her retreat to the kitchen, the rounin stared at the glass suspiciously. He brought it to his nose, as though he was to drink, but stop short of his mouth. He sniffed it with his accurate nose and in his half drunken stupor, picked up something foreign in the drink. His suspicions were confirmed when he looked deep into the glass and saw the remains of something dissolving. He put it back down and ate a meat patty as he thought about what he was going to do.
“Hmpt… typical. Though I wonder who wants my head in this day and hour,” Mikael thought to himself as he glanced around for curious eyes, looking for him to drink the poisoned drink.
He glanced over to the tax collector, who was making a fool of himself as he made a little speech to his supporters and friends. The rounin realized that the collector’s drink hasn’t been touched yet.
“… and that is why people call me a fraud. I have two jobs, mind you folks, which are why I can afford these decent clothes,” The tax collector said, “Though; most of these are gifts from my good old friends.”
There was a small applaud and encouraging compliments from the bar’s audience. The rounin sort of nudge his glass in position to be moved quickly as someone stood up and shouted at the tax collector.
“You’re a liar, Harold! And a thief! You tell us its 14 belli when really we owe 10! You’ve been slipping that money into your own bloody pocket!” An elder woman said; her voice drawing everyone’s attention.
Mikael quickly switched the two glasses, drank the sake glass, put some belli near his plate, got up and left the bar. On his way out, he picked up his 50 lbs. haversack (as well as his other belongings) and put it over his shoulders. He heard a sudden commotion as he got about 20 yards from the bar…
“… perhaps I’m the thief? Who cares…” Mikael said out loud to himself, as he went through the gate, “sigh... another day, another kill. At least I didn't get a headache... pauses and thinks... I shall make do in the forest tonight…”
3 days ago; night...
Having made some decent progress, Mikael continued into the woods, looking for a lone pond. He was supposed to meet his client for this mission... that is, to kill the tax collector. It was perhaps fate that he managed to do so without drawing attention himself. Having people who want your head can be a boon sometimes... sometimes!.
Anyway, he found the pond and near its murky depth was log. "That must be it," Mikael thought as he went over it and found a pouch, "How nice, I can sell this pouch as well."
He read the letter of thanks (which he put in a satchel in his haverpack) and then put the belli in his money bag (which was inside his dark blue robe). Putting the leather pouch in his brown leather haverpack as well, the rounin hiked up a hill near the pond and traveled deeper into the forests of the heart of Shardima.
*End of Flashback*
"Yes… the forests, in the heart of Shardima where evil lies", Mikael said, quoting his latest client as he stood atop a tree; scanning the horizon.
He was hungry though, and was looking for prey – a deer at most, though he’ll settle for a carnivore. Hunting was easy for him as he has a large amount of experience under his belt from his travels with his old master. Seeing as there were no animals (edible ones) Mikael hopped off the 20’ tall tree and floated gently to the ground.
The canopy suddenly made the rounin’s world and traveling rather dark as he trekked further north, so he pushed up his blue tinted glasses to aid him. It would be night in about 3 hours (since it was 6pm about). The rounin tightened his robe’s high collar as the frosty air invaded his neck. He used his long walking stick to help him navigate the shrubs and hilly terrain. He'll have to settle for mission prey...
*Flashback*
3 days ago; morning...
“Your family, boss,
I’m killin’ em off.
Catch ‘em in the night,
I’ll finish ‘em off.
The wave’s signed and
I’ve been paid, my friend.
So just consider it a loss.
I slice one.
Then I slice again.
I’ll slice you.
I’ll slice your friend.
But who I slice depends,
On the wave
And how much you spend!
Hark! It ain’t no jest!
I’ve gone to finish the rest!
Oh! The steel impulse to kill
And use my skill!
Any job you name,
I’m capable, but make sure
You got my wave though!
It’s major belli, aye!
Emotionless, openness, hopeless,
When I’m tracking them.
Getting rich with luxuriousness, aye.
Poppin’ bars, I’m gonna getcha
Slippin’ up and livin’ the night life.
No one’s too big to get hit.
It’s anybody for the right price.
That means I’m a sinner…
So be it.
A cold-hearted killer…
Believe it!
Send me a good wave;
To guarantee that I convey.
Wave man, it pays...
To let the steel blade slay!
‘Cause my life
Is takin’ your life
Wave Man!
I’m a killer, aye!
It pays for me
To let the blade slay.
‘Cause my life is takin’ your life
Wave Man!
I’m a wave man;
It pays to let
The steel blade slay.
‘Cause my life
Is takin’ your life
Wave Man!
I’m a killer, aye!
It pays for me,
To let the blade slay.
‘Cause my life is takin’ your life
Wave Man!!”
…
A roar of applaud erupted and Mikael closed his eyes. As he opened them, he remembered where he really was: in a bar, far away from that castle. On his last mission – or a wave, as some call it around here – a king hired Mikael to assassinate an old wizard that was manipulating his young daughter with financial usurping and… personal pleasure. Mikael didn’t care truly about the daughter or wizard or even the king for that matter! All he cared about was his next meal, bed, and drink.
“In fact, skip all that, and just give me the drink,” He thought to himself, as he looked at his bowl of rice and little meat patties.
He took another sip of his Sake as he remembered the song again. That king’s jester was performing a play for him and Mikael, as well as other various ‘wave men’ that came to heed the king’s call. There were also several knights who despised the wave men or ‘merc scum’ as they call them. The elegant knights also heeded the king’s call to destroy that wizard. All of them, of course, for money, power, women (or men), slaves or whatever, accepted the burden. None of them came back alive.
Except Mikael, that is. He single handily slew that wretched wizard and his army of undead warriors. Mikael also found himself defending against other wave men and knights, as they encountered him on the way to the wizard’s cave in the mountain. Afterwards, he raided the wizard’s home, with the intention to selling it off to the wealthiest traders in town. He had no intention of keeping things he had no idea how to use and he did fetch a pretty hefty price, which ensured his next meals, stays and drinks.
“That sure was ironic, though,” Mikael thought, remembering the jester’s song, “It was such a reminder of this odd life I live – as a rounin.”
He quickly took another sip of his Sake and saw that is was empty. Being a bit glum, he looked over hazily for the barkeeper that served him. He could hear numerous people talking about the latest news in the town – about a tax collector gone corrupt. It wasn’t the first time Mikael heard of such gossip. He spotted the young barkeeper, as well as keeping his eyes off her large open cleavage, as she came towards him with a jug of sake.
Just then, said tax collector came through the door and took up a seat next to Mikael. The rounin saw that he was a fine looking man, with expensive clothing and large beard. There was a silence when the man entered, but it resumed shortly after. The lovely barkeeper came over to the tax collector and poured him a glass of Sake.
“Thank you, dear,” He said, smiling at her knowingly, “You were quite lovely last night.”
The barkeeper giggled and winked at him, then turned to Mikael with the same smile. The rounin was sickened by the tax collect as the whore made a large show of bending over for Mikael (and thus, tempting the young warrior to glance), but the rounin’s face remained unmoving as stone. He watched as she was about to pour the sake in, but then she stood up and looked over to the kitchen and shouted a question. The rounin’s head was indeed facing where the young lass’s looked and shouted, but he was actually snake-eyeing her; watching what she was doing. The hairs on his head and body stood up when she saw her hand slip something into the sake jug. She then muttered a quick apology to Mikael as she poured him another glass of Sake.
Watching her retreat to the kitchen, the rounin stared at the glass suspiciously. He brought it to his nose, as though he was to drink, but stop short of his mouth. He sniffed it with his accurate nose and in his half drunken stupor, picked up something foreign in the drink. His suspicions were confirmed when he looked deep into the glass and saw the remains of something dissolving. He put it back down and ate a meat patty as he thought about what he was going to do.
“Hmpt… typical. Though I wonder who wants my head in this day and hour,” Mikael thought to himself as he glanced around for curious eyes, looking for him to drink the poisoned drink.
He glanced over to the tax collector, who was making a fool of himself as he made a little speech to his supporters and friends. The rounin realized that the collector’s drink hasn’t been touched yet.
“… and that is why people call me a fraud. I have two jobs, mind you folks, which are why I can afford these decent clothes,” The tax collector said, “Though; most of these are gifts from my good old friends.”
There was a small applaud and encouraging compliments from the bar’s audience. The rounin sort of nudge his glass in position to be moved quickly as someone stood up and shouted at the tax collector.
“You’re a liar, Harold! And a thief! You tell us its 14 belli when really we owe 10! You’ve been slipping that money into your own bloody pocket!” An elder woman said; her voice drawing everyone’s attention.
Mikael quickly switched the two glasses, drank the sake glass, put some belli near his plate, got up and left the bar. On his way out, he picked up his 50 lbs. haversack (as well as his other belongings) and put it over his shoulders. He heard a sudden commotion as he got about 20 yards from the bar…
“… perhaps I’m the thief? Who cares…” Mikael said out loud to himself, as he went through the gate, “sigh... another day, another kill. At least I didn't get a headache... pauses and thinks... I shall make do in the forest tonight…”
3 days ago; night...
Having made some decent progress, Mikael continued into the woods, looking for a lone pond. He was supposed to meet his client for this mission... that is, to kill the tax collector. It was perhaps fate that he managed to do so without drawing attention himself. Having people who want your head can be a boon sometimes... sometimes!.
Anyway, he found the pond and near its murky depth was log. "That must be it," Mikael thought as he went over it and found a pouch, "How nice, I can sell this pouch as well."
He read the letter of thanks (which he put in a satchel in his haverpack) and then put the belli in his money bag (which was inside his dark blue robe). Putting the leather pouch in his brown leather haverpack as well, the rounin hiked up a hill near the pond and traveled deeper into the forests of the heart of Shardima.
*End of Flashback*
"Yes… the forests, in the heart of Shardima where evil lies", Mikael said, quoting his latest client as he stood atop a tree; scanning the horizon.
He was hungry though, and was looking for prey – a deer at most, though he’ll settle for a carnivore. Hunting was easy for him as he has a large amount of experience under his belt from his travels with his old master. Seeing as there were no animals (edible ones) Mikael hopped off the 20’ tall tree and floated gently to the ground.
The canopy suddenly made the rounin’s world and traveling rather dark as he trekked further north, so he pushed up his blue tinted glasses to aid him. It would be night in about 3 hours (since it was 6pm about). The rounin tightened his robe’s high collar as the frosty air invaded his neck. He used his long walking stick to help him navigate the shrubs and hilly terrain. He'll have to settle for mission prey...
As she climbed onto Digger, Spidey noisily pulled its eight legs completely into its mechanical frame. It shook violently, causing its entire mass to sink into the dune somewhat; little metal edges that were exposed reflected lunar glints, but that was okay. Nonna knew that her antique sandbike rig was now effectively shut down and hidden, ready to take in all passing waves of light. She didn't have to worry about thieves getting to it; Cedrick had made sure of that with his life...
Nonna bit her lip, sitting next to Kronos on his right. Clearing her throat, she did her best to keep her composure and act all lady-like. Was that what Kronos expected from a female Icer like her? Nonna wasn't sure if she even wanted to know the answer. Regardless, she looked forward to seeing her manager, ol' Boss O'Tross. She knew that at least his presence will act as an anchor against her wayward feelings that were rapidly rising for Kronos.
She laughed quietly. That name always made her sides want to split. The name was a corruption of 'the boss of Albatross' and, of course, it wasn't even the old fart's true name. It just stuck, like wet sand on a dry boot. Her laughter died as quickly as it had started, though. Nonna blushed madly now, wishing her voice box was ripped out. Kronos wouldn't have known why she laughed, and Nonna didn't want to give off the wrong impression. She wasn't even sure why that mattered; truly, why did she care about this whole thing? It was a mystery... one that she'd have to solve later, for now she was content to just sit, keep her hands clasped and knees together, and let Kronos guide Digger to Albatross's east gate.
“Don't be breakin' my door, boy,” a deep gravelly voice warned Sephyr, followed by a low chuckle.
There he was: the West Access High Icer of Albatross himself, standing behind Sephyr about 5 feet away and fiddling with a ring of iron keys to open the locked door.
Boss O'Tross, the oldest Dleeden man in Albatross, has 602 years of life under his belt and is revered by the Alba's locals; even the ever-hostile thieves and thugs respect him, most of whom grew up under his watch. His otherwise clean-shaved face wields a prominent white mustache that rolls over the sides of his small mouth and hangs down past his droopy chin like long ivory tusks. His brown forehead sports an armada of heavy wrinkles and his crow's feet are easily mistaken for dried dirt crevices. His shining chrome-dome is anchored by an ancient society of white bushy hair, holding together as a tied foxtail. His squint brown eyes, glazed and soft, hint deceptively of weakened eyesight and slow-wittiness. While this may be, Boss O'Tross invites anyone to test the theory; nobody has lived to write down the test results.
Finding the right key, Boss walked over to Sephyr with a confident gait like he owned the place, because he did. Under his 267 lb muscular frame, his heavy blue beetle-boots left deep prints in the dirt and sand. The lunar light revealed Boss to be wearing his favorite black overalls over a white long-sleeved shirt. A large golden badge over his heart showed his name and rank. Towering over Sephyr by 33 inches (2' 9”), Boss's shadow engulfed his subordinate entirely as he jiggled the knob and pushed the door open. Moving into the doorway, Boss suddenly stopped, turned, and looked over Sepyr's head. The ten large blocks tied to Sephyr's dune-buggy had caught the High Icer's eye.
“Hell of a lot of Bluce*, Gomen,” Boss stated, smiling with approval, “and you cubed 'em, too. Good. Saves the craftsmen time for mo' important tasks.”
Boss walked into the tall sturdy building and motioned for Sephyr to close the door, lock it, and follow him. As they ascended up 3 flights of iron stairs, they came to a wooden door, which Boss unlocked and passed them through. They were in complete darkness. Locking the wooden door, the old-liver snapped his fingers, causing a small flame to appear between his thumb and middle-finger. He then reached up to light a large oil lamp hanging in the middle of the room. The office was efficiently illuminated. Books and scrolls littered the wooden shelves on both walls. At the end of the room opposite the door was a oak desk with several stacks of papyrus and scrolls, inked feathers and inkwells on it. A couple of comfortable guest chairs were in front. A large open window overseeing the Eastern Gate in the distance was behind the desk chair, in which Boss seated with a sigh; it creaked under his weight.
Opening a drawer near his feet, Boss said, “Sit, Gomen, and we'll talk.”
Boss cleared some desk clutter away from him and placed down an old jar of fresh sweetgrass, a wad of black papyrus, a dunderwood pipe, two small Blice glasses, and a large wineskin. It was obvious that Boss intended to celebrate something with Sephyr, but what? Boss O'Tross rarely conducted niceties with anyone, although he wasn't rude or known for inhospitality. It's just that nobody really visited him very often outside of work. The gleam in the old man's eye meant something, though.
He put a small bit of sweetgrass onto the black papyrus and rolled it up, and said, “Want one?”
Putting the black joint on Sephyr's side of the desk, Boss then poured them some sanded wine from the wineskin. It wasn't bitter nor sweet, just right in the middle, heavy and brisk; its aftertaste was lingering. He then prepared his pipe with some sweetgrass and lit it with another snap of his fingers.
Puffing the pipe several times, he murmured with it hanging from his mouth, “I'm impressed, Gomen. Can't let ya go just yet, though. Nice work merits a nice reward.”
Boss paused for a bit and leaned back in his chair, his pipe wagging over to the other side of his mouth. He seemed to be thinking deeply, with his hands slightly intertwined over his stomach. He glanced at Gomen; he apparently was going to choose his words carefully.
“How about a promotion, like Mid Icer 3rd Class? You'd still dig, but whatever hours you want. Same quota, but double the pay per Bluce. And...” Boss smirked, trailing off to heighten the tension.
“Yer own mega truck,” he said, tossing a key on a iron ring towards Sephyr.
It'd probably land on his side of the desk if he didn't catch it. But driving the Icepit's** mega truck was quite the lofty position for a mid-ranked Icer, who would drive it west east to the processing center in the city Tidim, whenever Albatross's storage was full. It was also literally the Icer's own vehicle, sponsored by the King's coffers. Of course, it was every recruit's dream to earn because it was comfortable to drive, air-conditioned, has its own cold water supply, and was fricking huge! The wheels were 30 feet in diameter and the truck's cargo-hold carried tons of Bluce. It was solar-powered with 20 solar-cells, so it could never really run out of go. Its top speed was 120mph and easily treks over large dunes. It had 3 machine gun mounts as well, all controlled by the driver.
Having said what he wanted to say, Boss took a swig of his sanded wine, and awaited contently for Sephyr's response; however, the fear of something in Boss O'Tross's heart was hidden well and his visage did not betray his true feelings. Boss pulled out from his overalls an Azurian coin carved from the Icy Blue, and began flipping it into the air and catching it without fail. The value stated on one side of the coin was 10,000, which was how much an Icer like Sephyr earned yearly if he didn't miss any quotas.
*Bluce is the raw material harvested from the Icy Blue. Blice is the product of carving and imbuing the Bluce.
**Icepits are towns or cities used solely by Icers as their base of operations. Most Icepits have little or no non-Icer population, Albatross being one exception.
Nonna bit her lip, sitting next to Kronos on his right. Clearing her throat, she did her best to keep her composure and act all lady-like. Was that what Kronos expected from a female Icer like her? Nonna wasn't sure if she even wanted to know the answer. Regardless, she looked forward to seeing her manager, ol' Boss O'Tross. She knew that at least his presence will act as an anchor against her wayward feelings that were rapidly rising for Kronos.
She laughed quietly. That name always made her sides want to split. The name was a corruption of 'the boss of Albatross' and, of course, it wasn't even the old fart's true name. It just stuck, like wet sand on a dry boot. Her laughter died as quickly as it had started, though. Nonna blushed madly now, wishing her voice box was ripped out. Kronos wouldn't have known why she laughed, and Nonna didn't want to give off the wrong impression. She wasn't even sure why that mattered; truly, why did she care about this whole thing? It was a mystery... one that she'd have to solve later, for now she was content to just sit, keep her hands clasped and knees together, and let Kronos guide Digger to Albatross's east gate.
“Don't be breakin' my door, boy,” a deep gravelly voice warned Sephyr, followed by a low chuckle.
There he was: the West Access High Icer of Albatross himself, standing behind Sephyr about 5 feet away and fiddling with a ring of iron keys to open the locked door.
Boss O'Tross, the oldest Dleeden man in Albatross, has 602 years of life under his belt and is revered by the Alba's locals; even the ever-hostile thieves and thugs respect him, most of whom grew up under his watch. His otherwise clean-shaved face wields a prominent white mustache that rolls over the sides of his small mouth and hangs down past his droopy chin like long ivory tusks. His brown forehead sports an armada of heavy wrinkles and his crow's feet are easily mistaken for dried dirt crevices. His shining chrome-dome is anchored by an ancient society of white bushy hair, holding together as a tied foxtail. His squint brown eyes, glazed and soft, hint deceptively of weakened eyesight and slow-wittiness. While this may be, Boss O'Tross invites anyone to test the theory; nobody has lived to write down the test results.
Finding the right key, Boss walked over to Sephyr with a confident gait like he owned the place, because he did. Under his 267 lb muscular frame, his heavy blue beetle-boots left deep prints in the dirt and sand. The lunar light revealed Boss to be wearing his favorite black overalls over a white long-sleeved shirt. A large golden badge over his heart showed his name and rank. Towering over Sephyr by 33 inches (2' 9”), Boss's shadow engulfed his subordinate entirely as he jiggled the knob and pushed the door open. Moving into the doorway, Boss suddenly stopped, turned, and looked over Sepyr's head. The ten large blocks tied to Sephyr's dune-buggy had caught the High Icer's eye.
“Hell of a lot of Bluce*, Gomen,” Boss stated, smiling with approval, “and you cubed 'em, too. Good. Saves the craftsmen time for mo' important tasks.”
Boss walked into the tall sturdy building and motioned for Sephyr to close the door, lock it, and follow him. As they ascended up 3 flights of iron stairs, they came to a wooden door, which Boss unlocked and passed them through. They were in complete darkness. Locking the wooden door, the old-liver snapped his fingers, causing a small flame to appear between his thumb and middle-finger. He then reached up to light a large oil lamp hanging in the middle of the room. The office was efficiently illuminated. Books and scrolls littered the wooden shelves on both walls. At the end of the room opposite the door was a oak desk with several stacks of papyrus and scrolls, inked feathers and inkwells on it. A couple of comfortable guest chairs were in front. A large open window overseeing the Eastern Gate in the distance was behind the desk chair, in which Boss seated with a sigh; it creaked under his weight.
Opening a drawer near his feet, Boss said, “Sit, Gomen, and we'll talk.”
Boss cleared some desk clutter away from him and placed down an old jar of fresh sweetgrass, a wad of black papyrus, a dunderwood pipe, two small Blice glasses, and a large wineskin. It was obvious that Boss intended to celebrate something with Sephyr, but what? Boss O'Tross rarely conducted niceties with anyone, although he wasn't rude or known for inhospitality. It's just that nobody really visited him very often outside of work. The gleam in the old man's eye meant something, though.
He put a small bit of sweetgrass onto the black papyrus and rolled it up, and said, “Want one?”
Putting the black joint on Sephyr's side of the desk, Boss then poured them some sanded wine from the wineskin. It wasn't bitter nor sweet, just right in the middle, heavy and brisk; its aftertaste was lingering. He then prepared his pipe with some sweetgrass and lit it with another snap of his fingers.
Puffing the pipe several times, he murmured with it hanging from his mouth, “I'm impressed, Gomen. Can't let ya go just yet, though. Nice work merits a nice reward.”
Boss paused for a bit and leaned back in his chair, his pipe wagging over to the other side of his mouth. He seemed to be thinking deeply, with his hands slightly intertwined over his stomach. He glanced at Gomen; he apparently was going to choose his words carefully.
“How about a promotion, like Mid Icer 3rd Class? You'd still dig, but whatever hours you want. Same quota, but double the pay per Bluce. And...” Boss smirked, trailing off to heighten the tension.
“Yer own mega truck,” he said, tossing a key on a iron ring towards Sephyr.
It'd probably land on his side of the desk if he didn't catch it. But driving the Icepit's** mega truck was quite the lofty position for a mid-ranked Icer, who would drive it west east to the processing center in the city Tidim, whenever Albatross's storage was full. It was also literally the Icer's own vehicle, sponsored by the King's coffers. Of course, it was every recruit's dream to earn because it was comfortable to drive, air-conditioned, has its own cold water supply, and was fricking huge! The wheels were 30 feet in diameter and the truck's cargo-hold carried tons of Bluce. It was solar-powered with 20 solar-cells, so it could never really run out of go. Its top speed was 120mph and easily treks over large dunes. It had 3 machine gun mounts as well, all controlled by the driver.
Having said what he wanted to say, Boss took a swig of his sanded wine, and awaited contently for Sephyr's response; however, the fear of something in Boss O'Tross's heart was hidden well and his visage did not betray his true feelings. Boss pulled out from his overalls an Azurian coin carved from the Icy Blue, and began flipping it into the air and catching it without fail. The value stated on one side of the coin was 10,000, which was how much an Icer like Sephyr earned yearly if he didn't miss any quotas.
*Bluce is the raw material harvested from the Icy Blue. Blice is the product of carving and imbuing the Bluce.
**Icepits are towns or cities used solely by Icers as their base of operations. Most Icepits have little or no non-Icer population, Albatross being one exception.
THE EMPTY LORD
He had heard the call, felt the penetrating invitation. But he'd been expecting it. For the longest time, this variable remained undefined in his plan, like a flickering fire at the end of a long road. And now it was coming to an end, forcing his hand to examine the triviality himself in lieu of sending ambassadors on his behalf. His followers, having been soothed and informed of the new changes, remained behind in that secret world that existed in between the Three Worlds' inhabitants' compositions. Even the one with the rictus grin who had betrayed him understood the wisdom of letting his lord handle this.
And handle it, Ioi most certainly would.
As a large semi-transparent blue rectangle multiplied itself in place and phased him onto the Surface, it was the first time since the Great War's beginning that Ioi, the Empty Lord of Maioi (a northeast region of Hell), breathed surface air. As he exhaled through his unseen mouth, dark purple smoke rose into the air, and joined into tiny little dark orbs that joined the rest hovering around him like wandering wisps. His form, though dark as slate and unclothed, actually warped the reality of the space he occupied. Light bent around him, barely able to bounce off of him and go into the eyes of those who may see him. Shadows were delved under the bending photons, the two elements merging into a purple smoky essence that seemed to breathe out hot air as it followed him. Dark crystal lattices, none no larger than a human palm, were embedded in Ioi's body and radiated not power, but insensible abstracts of information.
With purpose, he took a stride toward the Sword that had previously been Hazumi, a strange oddity of a person whose files filled an iota. Eight small slits on his face, glowing as though empowered eyes, bore down on the two-bladed instrument and its simplistic, unassuming European style. A strange symbol above his eyes vibrated lightly as Ioi assessed the secret details of its composition. It was as he expected from long ago: a gathering of the essence of these worlds. Again, it beckoned him -- anyone really -- to grasp its handle and change reality.
Which he had been doing all along, surely and slowly.
Less smoke escaped him as he stepped forward again, seemingly ignoring the situation around him but in fact had planned this window of opportunity--it bought him a couple minutes before anyone would notice. For his was not an aura of angel, human, or demon (though that had been his former nature)--as the Council who could not make sense of Chimeras, so would anyone else would struggle to sense Ioi. But once they were able to, they could no longer hide from him. Not that he was searching for them, as he had no need to--it was his way to be where he needed to be, and nowhere else ever at the wrong tick of time.
He seized the Sword, its almighty power trying to surge through him and beg him to embrace service of the world. Holding the blade tip skyward, his eyes dimmed in intensity as he realized how easily he could change the worlds. His wisps flitted around the blade, trails of smoke fading into light and shadow, and back again. He understood what this was for, in fact, the whole feeling was bittersweet.
He lowered the sword, disappointed.
The use of this instrument by him would unbalance the amount of hope and despair that he needed for his plans' fruition. There was no way he could proceed with this opportunity without obvious despair-causing changes. Although before, when he had been planning his return as a herald of an invasion of the Three Worlds, he would have gladly used this Sword. It would have been checkmate...
But Ioi, the Empty Lord, and the last of the Dovetail demons, knew better. It took a while, but he knew better, for when the truth assumed him, he realized a better way; a safer alternative to reality's inevitable subduing. Unfortunately, destroying the Sword was not a great idea and he knew that while it still existed, it would continually call to someone to wield the essence of the world, for better or for worse. He turned around, his window of opportunity fading down to its last few seconds before someone would notice him. His options were before him, and Ioi decided to wait. Simply wait. Nobody was going to destroy the Three Worlds, but he was not going to keep it for himself.
He did not need to: even now, his Iotan essence was communicating with the Sword... abstract to abstract.
His wisps, now forty in number, swirled around him flawlessly, from his three clawed feet to the top of his bald head. The Sword in his right hand, his left hand clenched and released, its dark purple claws trembling. Smoke quietly sifted out of his mouth again as he very patiently waited for those empowered variables to show themselves and solve the equation of this confrontation with him.
And normally, time and patience were beneath Ioi and never influenced how he acted, but he hoped things would hurry along; after all, he had a honeymoon to commence...
THE EMPTY LORD
IoI watched calmly as Lucien came closer to his location--not by the relation between oculars and light, but through the harmony (or lack thereof) of the original angel's actions; Especially against the demons and angels whose perishing bodies released their souls. Normally, the Empty Lord would have intervened with such affairs, as his faithful followers had said 'no original lives must be lost.' That was then, as now the transcendent being knew exactly where these slain creations were going.
Lucien approached on the dilapidated Red Square, the space between him and this 'unknown obstacle' only measuring up a few yards. By now, the Empty Lord's dark, smoky wisps numbered just shy of a hundred and had begun to wander farther and farther away, in circular semi-random paths. Additionally, light and shadow in the area were having an awfully hard time working, but visibility and hiding was still somewhat possible. Not that the original angel would have any need for subterfuge, now would he? Ioi certainly didn't have any need for stealth.
There was no pretense here, just sheer desire manifested in their forms of people, but then... Ioi spoke.
The tone, gentle but firm, was evident. His raspy, lingering voice knew no equal in presentation, as well, for every person in Loom would hear it. Perfectly. All other aural sources temporarily muted as he spoke to the original angel. Indeed, no barrier, be it physical, language, or dumb understanding, stopped Ioi from addressing every element in his plan. He spoke to the innermost core of a person's essence, bypassing all mental safeguards and defenses. Additionally, knowledge was imputed to all listeners: the name, that is, eye-oh-eye, IoI, the Empty Lord, who knew them, and the understanding of what Lucien was saying to him.
Repeating, everyone would hear what Ioi said to Lucien and why.
"What you already believe," he warned everyone, pausing deliberately, "will determine what you shall believe next."
His face lowered slightly, his pupil-less, purple eyes examining the blade before looking back up at Lucien. "I will not, although I have no intention to wield it," Ioi declared, hinting that he would only give the sword to someone who meets his standards for worthiness.
"More shall come judging," he added, lowering the sword so that its tip tapped the ground, and he spoke no more.
Ioi's attention to Lucien then shifted, as though someone unseen was talking to him. A very subtle nod and dimming of his eyes confirmed some request. Without further cue, several blue, semi-transparent rectangles, full of multiplying cubes, appeared on the Empty Lord's left side--the strange manifestations faded, leaving their passengers on the ground, all of their eyes closed that then opened in sync. The lot consisted of a short, bearded old man, a tall spiffy gentleman with a top hat, two lovely ladies in elegant dresses (one more extravagant than the other), and a single petite girl with a strange 'gray' composition, spiky hair, and eerie stare. All, save for the gray girl, turned toward Ioi, bidding him thanks--one of the ladies even squeezed his hand. Then they all departed from the Red Square by various means: running with demonic swiftness, empowered jumping and parkour, and then the old man just simply meandered out of sight, sipping some delightful tea.
The gray girl, known as the Reclaimer, gave Lucien one interested look before blinking and turning her gaze skywards. Wingless, her body flew straight up into the sky above the Red Square, leaving Ioi seemingly alone. But he was not. Kneeling behind him, an unseen being stretched her long, soft white wings outwards past Ioi's sides. Then standing, her wings docked as she brushed a strand of chestnut hair over her ear and came to Ioi's left side. He glanced at her, seeing her body trembling as her dour demeanor fought her will to lift her eyes. But she finally did, looking on the other original angel before her, Lucien. She swallowed, shuddering as she took another step forward as her lord watched her.
"Lucien... y-you are alive," Elana breathed, clasping her shaky hands together in front of her.
"Wait." Lucien called, bringing his wings back down, as Elana began to turn away. Three steps later and he had an armored arm hugging her to him, his sword hand still ready in case any Demons or other enemies arrived. "I thought you were dead." He whispered.
He pulled her to him. Heart rate rising.
His hand seized her own. Eyes rapidly blinking.
His voice tickled her ears. Her throat closed, tongue muted.
His heart drummed in sync. Eyes staring, fused to his.
Desire overcame her. Elana leaned up, kissing Luicen's battle-grimy mouth fully, deeply.
Nothing else existed so very untwisted as the relishing relief raking over her, head to wing to toe.
A moment later, a voice gently interrupted them, revealing Ioi to have moved somehow behind them, his back to Lucien. "In one single gesture and word, you have exemplified my cause. Remember that, Lucien, and wield her, for honor."
Again anyone would hear his voice, know his words.
Half-turned to the original angel's left shoulder, Ioi's left hand held out the Sword by its handle. Elana instinctively backed up a bit, glancing between the two, but her right golden wing remained sheltering Lucien's left black one. His black, crystal adorned hand rose between them, the pommel slipping into Lucien's free hand. Assuming that he'd take it, the Empty Lord retracted his hand, but an invisible, significant pull singed at his palm. It came to a point where Ioi had to noticeably grunt with effort to continue bringing his hand towards him, which suddenly unleashed a shockwave behind him that crumbled an empty building. Elana blanched, barely hiding her gasp as her wings braced against the disturbed dust.
Unfazed, he glanced at them. "The conflict and elements in Loom's equation do not involve me any longer," he stated cryptically, "and under a lodestar, your survival will flourish, Lucien."
"Until the Next," Ioi whispered, nodding ever so subtly at the original angel before turning away and walking off.
He pulled her to him. Heart rate rising.
His hand seized her own. Eyes rapidly blinking.
His voice tickled her ears. Her throat closed, tongue muted.
His heart drummed in sync. Eyes staring, fused to his.
Desire overcame her. Elana leaned up, kissing Luicen's battle-grimy mouth fully, deeply.
Nothing else existed so very untwisted as the relishing relief raking over her, head to wing to toe.
A moment later, a voice gently interrupted them, revealing Ioi to have moved somehow behind them, his back to Lucien. "In one single gesture and word, you have exemplified my cause. Remember that, Lucien, and wield her, for honor."
Again anyone would hear his voice, know his words.
Half-turned to the original angel's left shoulder, Ioi's left hand held out the Sword by its handle. Elana instinctively backed up a bit, glancing between the two, but her right golden wing remained sheltering Lucien's left black one. His black, crystal adorned hand rose between them, the pommel slipping into Lucien's free hand. Assuming that he'd take it, the Empty Lord retracted his hand, but an invisible, significant pull singed at his palm. It came to a point where Ioi had to noticeably grunt with effort to continue bringing his hand towards him, which suddenly unleashed a shockwave behind him that crumbled an empty building. Elana blanched, barely hiding her gasp as her wings braced against the disturbed dust.
Unfazed, he glanced at them. "The conflict and elements in Loom's equation do not involve me any longer," he stated cryptically, "and under a lodestar, your survival will flourish, Lucien."
"Until the Next," Ioi whispered, nodding ever so subtly at the original angel before turning away and walking off.
Biography: This is all about a life-weary, headstrong human whose (relatively) ancient familial legacy included soldiery, government, and peacekeeping. War and peace are bittersweet notions to him. Salacious sins of the flesh wrack his old nerves, bidding him to drink poison a second time. This is about a man who seeks redemption through his service, forgiveness through his bullets, and death through the solitary of his mind. He ever desires the return of old times, but those are long gone, and he knows it. Things will never be the same again. His memories, distant echoes of old joys fading, serve only to strengthen his resolve. It is the firmest of all resolves: laying down his life for others, only to find death ignoring him. Above all, this is about an uncle wanting the company of his niece again, to see her smile and laugh, converse and opine, live and grow older before his eyes.
It is a hope that some might find to be in vain, with their view on humanity all but tarnished and full of resentment toward the future. With only a fragmented (and mindless) demon (Ethaniel Baine) and angel (Gladius) counterpart both dormant in his chimeric psyche, his once invigorating triune relationship under the Empty Lord's plan remains to be an almost loathing reminder of his one mistake: leaving her behind... in the hands of another man. He knows not what's become of them, but he finds the death of his hope almost supernaturally fleeting. It is in this one path he travels, to and fro the world over, that chance (if one could dub it such) will unite them.
The fact that he carries the fate of an entire religious group of Chimera in his hands is just window dressing.
The Constable, as he was once photographed in Thorpe a long time ago...
Not much is known about the real Peskay Genno; his work has produced an addictive persona that hides him much like a mask for identities. But at times, it also hides him from his true desires, which are unfair things that he cannot seem to fulfill. Only certain people from before the Shattering of the Essence of the World may actually know a thing or two about him. His death as constable of Thorpe was never recorded, of course, but most presumed that the man had died of old age long ago.
In any case, there are several rumors about Genno's persona, Orange-Nose Jon: that he's a demon possessed man, or an angel playing as a human. But according to some grateful souls, the traveling mercenary is some kind of chimera, but not a traditional one. He is no Renegade, but has neither the aura of a demon or angel, just a human's. It is known in the Academy that he had saved several Musicians' lives more than a few times and did not demand any pay of any kind. Perhaps the most egregious rumor is his number of deaths. To this day, several hundred people across the worlds had sworn and bore witness that Orange-Nose Jon has been killed a (staggering) 507 times. But he just keeps coming back. So some think he is a ghost. Some think he is immortal. Others, confident of their rational superiority, believe that there is more than one Orange-Nose Jon and all work together for some elaborate ruse.
But who really knows? Nobody's bothered to ask the man himself.
It is a hope that some might find to be in vain, with their view on humanity all but tarnished and full of resentment toward the future. With only a fragmented (and mindless) demon (Ethaniel Baine) and angel (Gladius) counterpart both dormant in his chimeric psyche, his once invigorating triune relationship under the Empty Lord's plan remains to be an almost loathing reminder of his one mistake: leaving her behind... in the hands of another man. He knows not what's become of them, but he finds the death of his hope almost supernaturally fleeting. It is in this one path he travels, to and fro the world over, that chance (if one could dub it such) will unite them.
The fact that he carries the fate of an entire religious group of Chimera in his hands is just window dressing.
The Constable, as he was once photographed in Thorpe a long time ago...
Not much is known about the real Peskay Genno; his work has produced an addictive persona that hides him much like a mask for identities. But at times, it also hides him from his true desires, which are unfair things that he cannot seem to fulfill. Only certain people from before the Shattering of the Essence of the World may actually know a thing or two about him. His death as constable of Thorpe was never recorded, of course, but most presumed that the man had died of old age long ago.
In any case, there are several rumors about Genno's persona, Orange-Nose Jon: that he's a demon possessed man, or an angel playing as a human. But according to some grateful souls, the traveling mercenary is some kind of chimera, but not a traditional one. He is no Renegade, but has neither the aura of a demon or angel, just a human's. It is known in the Academy that he had saved several Musicians' lives more than a few times and did not demand any pay of any kind. Perhaps the most egregious rumor is his number of deaths. To this day, several hundred people across the worlds had sworn and bore witness that Orange-Nose Jon has been killed a (staggering) 507 times. But he just keeps coming back. So some think he is a ghost. Some think he is immortal. Others, confident of their rational superiority, believe that there is more than one Orange-Nose Jon and all work together for some elaborate ruse.
But who really knows? Nobody's bothered to ask the man himself.
"The Lighthouse."
----------------------------
ANOTHER PAGE TURNED, and the next chapter began; perhaps it would end with nobody getting upset and losing their head. With Mairyell and Aeris Kasio fleeing to safer heights and then taking a dabble into crime fighting, the House of Grim's occupants was now reduced to two: ITZAL SLYRE and Solus Grim. The former's highly antagonistic nature and light-hearted scheme had been too much for the young ones, but the latter was hardly fazed. Which was to be expected, for the stitch-lipped chimera had much experience with the notorious Reaper and knew how to tread lightly around him. Indeed, for his wizened experience and fearlessness (or alternatively, jaded indifference) had been the very thing that kept Slyre from truly tearing into him. For the man's earlier dismal company lacked it, and now they were quite motherless.
But not being one for social niceties, Solus prompted him to get on with it.
"Yes, very well then. I can see you're desperate to know what this is all about," the Reaper crowed loudly, stretching his gray-skinned mouth and flashing his red teeth.
His eyelids narrowed over his black pupils. "But first, let's make sure that nothing here is conducted in vain," he added cryptically.
He then paused deliberately, as if trying to squeeze in one more opportunity to frustrate the Necromaster. But after a moment, he hunched over slightly, his unhooded head tilting as his voice sunk to a lower volume than before. As if he was about to reveal a secret. Bringing his right hand to his chin inquisitively, his white pupils rotated on the outer rim of his eyes like little moons orbiting dark earths.
"Be careful with how you answer, Solus Grim," Slyre asked with unusual care. "Do you love Rina Alice Genno ... or do you not?"
Solus squinted his eyes slightly as he listened to the Reaper. When he received the final question, his shoulders untensed, slumped down a little, relaxed. "I think you already know the answer, but..." He stopped for a moment to decide what he was about to say next. "Yes... I do."
"And do you actually want her back? Even if she's all shriveled up and weak from age?" Slyre continued, tilting his head the other way.
"I doubt you need another skeleton in your closet, Solus," he jested with a sneer.
"An extra skeleton wouldn't hurt..." Solus glumly jested back.
"Why?" Slyre asked simply.
That was when Solus looked down at the ground, at his own feet. Why did he still want her back after all these years? What if she was a shriveled up old bag plugged into a life support machine? But then again, Solus already had a solution for the latter. And having dealt with this individual before him in many of his lifetimes, as well as today while the Kasios were here, he realized that he shouldn't listen to what he says, those extra words he adds to taunt you, make you doubt what you believe. Instead, he chose to look beyond them, straight at the point of his questions, and the true meaning of his answers.
"I... I don't know. I guess... I guess I just want to see her again. I did train her after all. Her not being here feels..." He stopped. He found his answer, and he didn't like it either, just because how pathetic it sounded in his head. "I want her back because I'm lonely..."
The Reaper's anticipating smile slowly faded. Lonely? He stood up straighter, his hands retreating behind his back. His black pupils still trained on Solus's skull, his white pupil came dangerously close to aligning with them. His voice became bereft of silly or teasing tones, which was highly unlike his usual demeanor.
"So is she," Slyre said, almost as if he was struggling to confess that.
Solus noted Slyre's change of tone. He was strangely sincere. It seemed so unnatural and wrong, that Solus wasn't really sure if he could truely believe him, not like he could before. But despite his doubts, the chemicals in his brain forced his face to finally express emotion. His eyes widened in surprise. "Is she really...?" His face showed guilt, and a tinge of sadness.
"Yes," he lied, still not grinning.
Now I've got him. The Reaper was jubilant inside, but he dared not let such mortal feelings surface. Slyre cleared his throat, looking thoughtful for a moment as his right thumb and pointer finger traced the white patch of skin around his mouth, as though he was stroking a full goatee. He didn't actually have facial hair, but it seemed that he liked to play as though he did. His eyes fully turned from Solus, scrying through the ceiling at some unforeseen feature. In actuality, the Reaper was glancing at the immaterial information sinking below the town of Thorpe from a distance. Some demons had been killed by the Kasios.
His smirk returned. "Like I said earlier, you've merited my mercy these past two centuries, Solus," he remarked, glancing at him sideways with his black pupils.
"So I kept the girl alive, even though I was going to utterly destroy her for what she had become," he hinted darkly, his voice sounding almost sickened with the thought.
"Layna had one hour..." Solus said, looking at the body of the dead mother. "I guess Rina gets one too, right?"
The reaper followed the hunter's gaze. A smooth, silky chuckle rasped from his throat. "No, not quite, but that is a good guess," he lied, then glancing back at him.
"I'll give you a free question, I suppose. Layna attempted to cheat me. She wanted one hour to see her children, but oh, Mairyell certainly shortchanged her, now didn't he?" Slyre explained with a nod.
"Do you feel the soul memories seeping in? 'An hour for an hour', hmm?" the reaper asked him, his black pupils glaring at him whilst the white ones looked at ExMortis, so dormant and sleepy.
"I'll owe you an hour of my time, for anything imaginable I'm guessing?" Solus replied.
Slyre cocked his head, his rictus grin conveying his condescension. "Now, now, let's not get ahead of ourselves," he stated with a chuckle.
"I'm going to let you visit her for two full hours... in exchange for one hour of your time. It'll start from the moment she lays her eyes on you," he continued.
"Don't forget, though: I have a job for you. And the Kasios, but we'll get to that later," he explained deceptively.
"Because first, I will answer three questions. About anything you'd like. And I will give three straight answers. For free," Slyre beamed, concluding his strange offer.
Crossing his arms, the reaper stood back, looking down at Solus over his nose. What could this strange Reaper be thinking?
"All I ask is that you convey them all in one go," he added cryptically, then pausing, "and do you want to ask them before or after you visit the girl?"
At that point, the pupils of Slyre's eyes aligned: white over black, tiny dot over the large saucers. He peered into Solus's soul with his Abstract Gaze. He wasn't attempting to reap him, but to shake his soul for good measure. After all, if something is too good to be true, is it true? Or is it false? What if it was true, but cast away, being deemed false?
Such trivialities would not be allowed to mess up his grand ascendancy. Not this time.
Solus felt a sudden, deep coldness within him as he stared into Slyre's eyes. Fear swelled within him. He hadn't felt fear in so long, it was like a new emotion that he discovered. It was invigorating, but also terrifying, in all kinds of ways. His mental defenses buckled under Slyre's gaze. His heart was in his throat, and his legs felt light. But Solus pushed on. Attempting to think clearly, and choosing his questions quickly.
"Before." Solus said quickly. Clearly he was struggling. "Who are you? What are you? And... What do you want with me...?"
Slyre loosed a throaty chuckle as Solus aired his last question, and then promptly stepped forward and seized the little god by the throat. The speed of his hand was so fast, it was almost as though it was already there, curling around Solus. Maintaining eye contact the whole time, the Reaper lifted the Necromaster a good 4-feet off the dirty floor. His feet dangling, it almost seemed like being choked to death was about to become a reality. However, his grip was strong, yet surprisingly comfortable; only a feeling of complete numbness beneath his neck seemed to be the most threatening aspect of this intimate contact.
Solus was literally in the palm of Slyre's hand, and the latter brought the former very close, nose to nose.
"To make you better in every way possible," Slyre stated deceptively, but truthfully. "I am the Avatar of the Abstract and current caretaker of the Void..."
Solus's past lives began flashing before his eyes--from every breath he took, every move he made, every word he uttered... all from the beginning, to the end, to now, in a single heart beat. But memories would be fleeting.
"I am Itzal Slyre... the Terminus," the Reaper continued, his voice shaking, "and your wish is granted."
At that moment, Solus's body would become completely numb as he became 1-dimensional in nature. His body and soul compressed into an infinitely small line and entered into Slyre's right eye. The Necromaster would still sense everything around him, but it all zipped by at an impossible speed. Images were blurred, but some were clearer than others as his "travel route" took minor turns into the two-dimensional plane.
He saw Szayeis in the Western Realm.
He glimpsed Lazarus and Mary on the floor.
Mairyell and Aeris during their fine dining.
A man with an orange mask blasting a strange creature in the head with a gun.
Zi in Emmet's apartment.
Hazumi and several blurred figures on a dance floor.
He saw Loom, crumbling, then whole. Then desecrated. In the middle were black figures chasing Lucien.
Then, nothingness came and blackness consumed Solus. Time seemed to have passed in a mere moment. His body uncompressed, his soul wriggled into it. The sound of water rushing, then retreating could be heard. Standing up, looking down, sand wrapped around his boots. A salty breeze tickled his sides, drawing his nose to bear the scent. A crab scurried past him, frightened by his sudden appearance on the beach. And then Slyre released his hold on Solus, letting him be in full control of his body. If he looked up, he would see a single, solitary building a few hundred yards before him.
A red-bricked lighthouse that seemed impossibly tall and pierced the sky.
Its brilliant light sliced through the darkness of the night with every rotation, and the stars above lit a well-trodden path up to the building. But even from this distance, one could hear a distinct but haunting voice, echoing down through the trees and grass. The natural sounds of the water and wind seemed quelled and hushed under the musical tones.
Rina's voice, steadfast and gentle, was singing in an unknown, yet beautiful language: with every lyrical syllable, Solus would feel his heartstrings tugged.
--------
COLLAB POST: Synthorian, Mikael
"Righteous Reunion."
----
Solus fell to his knees after his body rematerialized. Breathing heavily, he clutched his throat, the feeling of Slyre's cold hand wrapped around his neck lingered for a while longer. He swallowed hard, pushing his free hand onto the sand to help himself up. Getting on his feet, he took a look around. He was standing on a beach, looking directly at the ocean, and the horizon where the extent of his sight ended.
He turned around, to see a tower... No, a lighthouse made of bricks that seemed to pierce the clouds. How has no one noticed this? He wondered. But that thought was broken by a voice, echoing from the top of the lighthouse. Solus listened to it for a few moments, before recognizing it. "Rina..." He said out loud, as if he was trying to convince himself what he was hearing was true.
As if in a weird lapse of panic, he scrambled forward towards the lighthouse, almost tripping over himself several times on the way to it. He passed what appeared to be a hole in the ground with a ladder leading deeper into it. Beside it, sat mining equipment, the usual, ranging from a pickaxes to a few buckets to move dirt out of the hole. There was also a cage with a canary in it, though it didn't seem to notice Solus' presence, or perhaps simply didn't care. He noted his strange find, and moved on. Eventually, by following the well lit path, he got to the foot of the lighthouse, and its entrance that awaited for him to open it.
Solus placed his hand on the handle with care, in case the door suddenly decided to blow up in his face. Nothing happened of course, but what surprised him was that the door was unlocked. It saved him some trouble at least, but that fact irked him.
He stepped inside.
Solus was greeted by a flight of spiral stairs, going all the way to the top. But as he looked up the gap of the stairs where he could see the light, he noticed that there were rooms on every floor.
He began his climb.
He ascended two steps at a time, and he stopped at every floor where a new opening into a room appeared, he peered inside of each despite hearing Rina's singing from all the way at the top. As he ascended he saw living rooms, kitchens, a multitude of bedrooms. How many beds does this girl need? He asked himself as he continued. But what was the most curious thing was that every room was filled with pictures of her, portraits, smaller ones on desks, and others of her with other people, mostly humans, some demons, and a couple angels. She was smiling in all of them, as were they. The question of who took those pictures lingered in Solus' head. Perhaps there were others here that Slyre took away from the world, left them here until it was their hour.
The more he ascended the stranger the place felt. Every stone and hardwood floor was scrubbed clean to a T. You could cook off the ground here. The candles in the rooms he passed were arranged accordingly, well away from anything flammable. He knew that Rina liked to keep things clean, but this was a step up. Perhaps boredom finally got to her.
He could smell food too. Though he had no need for food anymore, it smelled something divine. He passed the kitchen where it originated from, and noticed freshly plucked vegetables, with the soil still clinging to them. From the looks of the amount of ingredients used, it was a meal for two.
The flood of thoughts and the overwhelming feelings that flowed through him helped pass the time as he climbed, until finally he reached the final floor, just underneath the constantly turning light. The singing was strongest here. He sighed, he only had two hours...
He placed his hand on the wooden door, and pushed gently, slowly opening it as to not disturb her.
And there she was, with her back to him and hands on the rail. Also behind her was a ladder that led to the lighthouse device, which powerfully swept through the night like a cleaver. With every rotation, she was briefly seen in darkness, then in the light; as if she was pulsing between the two realms of those elements. Her attire seemed simple enough: muddy black jeans with rips and tears here and there, along with a white, heavily stained blouse tucked in. Her feet were bare, but dirty. It seemed as though Rina had been working for a long time.
From the angle of his approach, the side of her left face hinted at maturity. Even her height had increased, nearly matching Solus. She was certainly no old bag of bones that Slyre hinted at, but indeed, she had grown, perhaps looking to be in her late 20s. But 200 years had gone by. Odd.
Her eyes remained closed, her mouth continued gesturing the lyrics of the strange, unknown song. Her voice trailed around the man, pulling at his heartstrings like a skilled musician. But other than that, she did not seem to notice that she had a visitor.
"That's beautiful..." Solus said, somewhat sadly as he looked upon the figure of Rina.
Her song immediately ended at the praise, but her eyes still remained shut. Her head lowering slightly, her brow rubbed up in frustration, as if she was unnerved by what he'd just said. Or perhaps she could hardly believe it---that he was here. Her hands clenched the railing harder, bringing out the whiteness of her knuckles under starlight.
Suddenly, the rotating device above them hummed loudly, and then seemed to die down. Complete darkness engulfed them for a moment, until their vision adjusted for the ample amount of the stars and moon peeking behind the clouds.
"Ugh, that damn thing," Rina muttered with annoyance, shaking her head as she turned to climb the ladder and fix it for the 3rd time that day.
Solus watched her intently, even was unsure if she was real. Her expression at his remark, told him volumes, enough for him to speak up again. "Rina..."
She froze, her hands and right foot on the rungs of the ladder. His voice again. She caved, having long learned to ignore fabrications of her memories and longing for him. Or so she thought. Sighing, she glanced over at his direction, his oh-so-familiar bodily outline illuminated by stellar light. She squinted at him, as though trying to discern if he was really there or not. Could it be...?
She swallowed, her entire body starting to react to the actual presence of someone there. His breathing tickled her ears, and her hairs stood up on ends. She looked down at the mud and sand he'd tracked up here. Even his scent caught her nostrils up into a flare. Hoping against hope, her lips parted in the darkness...
"Solus?" Rina asked, her voice trembling and nearly breaking.
"Yeah..." Solus replied. "Long time no see..." He suddenly felt something shake in his trench coat pocket, which he was sure was empty. He put his hand in there, his fingers feeling glass, and a wooden frame surrounding it. It had the shape of an hourglass. He pulled it out and looked at it, inspecting it in his hand, turning it from left and right, and up and down, but the sand, continued to moved into the empty portion of the hourglass. Well, at least he gave me a timer... He put it back in his pocket, and looked back towards Rina, watching her.
She'd stepped forward away from the ladder, his words drawing her in, almost into a fascinated state of being. The green flames of his eyes, nostrils, and mouth bathed her face in an eerie illumination, but it only served to harden her hope that he was literally there. Her eyes made out a small object in his hand. Another hourglass? Between dealing with the absolute fact that Solus was actually standing before her and seeing that hourglass, Rina decided to touch first, ask questions later.
"12 years," Rina replied, nodding in agreement as she placed her hand tentatively on his chest.
She flinched, half expecting to pass right through it. A sob snared her throat, and she pulled away from him, covering her face with both hands. Her shoulders trembled as her body swayed dangerously in place, as though she might fall over the railing.
"Please... be real," she cried lowly.
That sob broke him. He flash stepped towards her, in a blink of an eye, his arms were wrapped around her, holding her tightly, as if she would disappear again. "I'm real, Rina... I'm real." His right hand reached for the back of her head, his fingers gently running through her hair. He wished he had the power to cry, but it was something he lacked. But has it really been only 12 years for her?
Suddenly engulfed into his strength and firmness of body, Rina nearly fainted. Her knees bent like wax as she clung to his torso feebly. I'm real. The promise etched into her heart at the moment, giving her courage to look up at him. Her teeth bit her lips as her tear-streaked face once again met the green-flamed light. She lowered her head again, wiping her tears on his chest. Then, looking up again, she smiled that lopsided grin that she'd given him many times during the months of her training over 200 years ago.
"I promised myself I wouldn't cry since you can't, Solus," she explained breathlessly, and trying to stand on her own two feet.
That was a feat in and of itself since she had absolutely no idea where the ground was. Or the sky. Or the lighthouse for that matter. Solus, and only Solus, captivated her attention and enraptured her soul with sheer, almost painful bliss.
His fingers ran from her hair and caressed her tear soaked cheek. "I... I don't know what to say..." His brain froze, unable to process anything intelligible to say to her. "I lost hope..."
An involuntary purr escaped her at his touch, shaking her down to her core and below. "I..." she mumbled through his words, quieting for a moment. He lost hope. It was a thought that had crossed her mind some years back---that he'd have given up on her. Logic surfaced briefly, trying to concoct some excuse for him like all girlfriends do at times.
"Well, the Surface is big; Can't imagine being able to search it all in such a short time," she offered, smiling up at him and caressing the right side of his doll-stitched mouth.
"The Surface...?" Solus asked rhetorically as his eyes began to roll back into his skull. "God damn it. What a fool I was. For 200 years I searched everywhere but the Surface..."
Rina swallowed hard again, struggling to understand his words. 200 years...? Her head tilted as her eyes darted left and right, trying to figure out if he misspoke or something. But his anger quelled any courage of speaking up, and she looked away at the floor of the outside platform. Confusion and embarrassment stretched her face.
"Slyre you son of a whore... Hid her right under my nose..." He closed his eyes and sighed. After a few moments they opened again, observing Rina's confused expression. "...You said that it has been 12 years for you... While it has been two centuries for me... Are you sure it has been 12 years?" He asked Rina slowly.
She nodded slowly at first, but then sank her shoulders, shaking her head. "I- ... well, I tried to keep track of time, but... after a while, things started to not make sense. Like, the sun and moon, and the stars, too. Plus people I spoke to mentioned certain years and dates," she rambled, caught up in her bewildered state.
"But in the end, I decided that I just didn't look that much older. You know? I mean, look," she added, stepping back to let him examine her body at the height of its blossom .
"Do I look 200 years older to you, Solus?" she asked him, smirking with her hands on hips.
Solus broke into his usual, deep chuckle, amused by her sudden change of attitude to the Rina he remembered. "No, I'd say you look about... 28."
She beamed. "I've thought so, too," she nodded, but then a wayward thought struck her attention.
Slight panic skipped across her face and her teeth clenched. "Crap, the light," she mumbled, turning away to climb the ladder.
"Need to crank it to get it go--waah!!" she explained before suddenly slipping in front of him and failing to grasp the ladder for support.
Solus quickly reacted, catching her by her hips and lifting her up. His hold was gentle, loving almost. He guided her body towards the ladder, giving her a more comfortable reach for the rickety thing that she needed to climb. "Are you ok?" His voice echoed right beside her left ear.
"Y-Yes!" Rina warbled, curling her toes. With her new-found balance, she grabbed the rungs again. Climbing up, she looked back at him, "Thanks. Just give me a moment," she smiled, letting her ascent's swagger draw his mind if he cared for it.
Sounds of furious cranking could be heard above, but indeed only a moment passed before the lighthouse resumed its guiding function. Rina then reappeared and zipped down the ladder, her grin testifying of delight to be back with Solus. Letting her hair down with a flourish, she led him back into the interior without so much as a beckon or word. Down the stairs and into the main kitchen, she donned an apron and took a couple pots off of the burners.
Another man then strolled carefully into the room from a hallway beyond (and under the stairs). He seemed a little older than Rina and wore a freshly ironed suit, with polished shoes and combed hair. His movement suggested something was off, for he did not even look at Solus at first. Rina glanced at Solus wistfully, biting her lower lip to stymie her rising nervousness. Bringing a finger to her lips to beg his silence, to which Solus quietly nodded. She then trained her gaze on the other man with an air of honed professionalism: kind but detached.
"Finding your way, James?" she asked politely.
Solus remained silent, like asked.
"Oh, in more ways than one, thanks to you, dear. You've been nothing but a blessing to this lonely old man," he replied with a rasp, and gripped the chair before which a plate (his, presumably) had been set.
"You're welcome," she replied sweetly, and just to make sure that Solus understood, she mouthed to him: He's blind. Solus' face lit up with acknowledgement in reply.
He sat down, easing into the chair comfortably. "The smell here is delicious, Miss Grim," James noted, his clean-shaven smile growing and his hands patting the table with hungry eagerness.
Miss Grim... Solus thought to himself, quite amused by it all.
Rina winced at the praise, but only because the real Grim was here now. She tried very hard to not meet Solus's eyes, but her flushing face revealed the truth: she had been telling people that her last name was Grim. Whatever for, was a question Solus would have to ask her later.
"It is your last meal," Rina replied, hoping to steer the conversation to a close, "so I've made this one extra special."
She quickly poured the guest (perhaps?) a bowl of gumbo and then a glass of wine of some kind. She guided his hand to his spoon, patting it as she walked away from the table and gave Solus another (embarrassed) smile. She seemed eager to leave, but then she glanced back at James, and her brow furrowed. James seemed to be glaring at Solus, albeit his eyes' vacancy merely suggested a concern in the man's general direction. Solus, in turn glared back at him, completely ignoring Rina's nervous face. It is your last meal... Solus had a hunch as to why this man was here. But he would ask Rina later.
"James?" Rina prompted.
"Quite. Oh yes, I'm sorry. But er... is someone else here, dear?" he asked curiously, tilting his head.
"No," she replied sharply, then sighing. "Well, just don't worry about it. Today is your day, James, and your hour will come at the knell. Please excuse me."
James nodded and dug into his food. Rina then took Solus by the hand into the hallway that James had exited. With haste, they passed by an opened bedroom, where the bed was messy and unmade. That bedroom only confirmed his hunch. It was a shame that Slyre put her in this position. Keeping old men company in more ways than one during final moments in life. Perhaps Slyre pitied them, pitied their lifelong loneliness. She was back in the pit it seemed, and now Solus knew what all those bedrooms were for. A job's a job, he guessed. Further on, and in private now, she perched on the edge of a black sofa in some kind of lounge. A stark white door, slightly ajar with a golden handle, could be seen across the way; nothing but darkness could be seen in the crack. Rina glanced up at Solus expectantly, slight worry in her searching eyes, perhaps at what he might be thinking about all this. I hope I don't have another one today, not while Solus is here...
"I'm due a break now actually, so there shouldn't be any other interruptions," she finally stated, her voice quivering with excitement; or was it fear?
"Miss Grim, huh...?" Solus asked her with a childish grin on his face as he took a seat beside her. Despite the many other questions he had, this one was the most important to him, she used his name after all.
She met his grin with relief, sighing gently through her nose. Nodding, she curled a stray lock behind her ear and gathered her thoughts. She scooted closer, too.
"Well, yes," she replied meekly with a nervous chuckle. "It was kind of awkward actually, I got called things and just, well, I mean--I needed an anchor, you know?"
She looked down shyly. "And your name is what kept me grounded the most."
Great. I had a whole speech prepared for him, and now I just... I... really should have written this down, actually. She opted to lean against the sofa, instead of him, as she waited for his response. Her fingers played with each other across her belly.
"Grounded..." Solus thought on the word, but couldn't really think of a reason why she used it. "So that old fellow... Is he some kind of..." Solus searched for a word that she would understand the meaning of, and yet it would not piss her off. "...client?"
She glanced up, sensing his confusion. Her mind was already forming a way to explain as he spoke, but then a hard lump formed in her throat. Client. After all this time... two hundred years for him (and twelve years for her?), he thought that she'd just buckle and go back to what she once knew as a mentally-warped child prostitute? She sat a little straighter, staring hard into his right knee before lightly shaking her head.
"No," she whispered, and then swallowed. "Not at all."
He placed a hand on her shoulder, gently squeezing it, causing her tender shoulder to rise into his palm. "Ok." He nodded taking her word for it. But her reply said otherwise to him. He felt like an asshole just for asking it. "Sorry, I just... I shouldn't have said anything..." He let go of her shoulder and placed his now free hand on his knee, which her eyes followed as she nodded. An awkward moment loomed over them both as he thought about the next thing he was going to ask, hopefully one that wasn't so stupid. "You can tell me anything... you know that?"
Placing her hand on his hand, she leaned close and nodded. "I do, and it's okay. I mean, thinkin' about it, I'd probably wonder the same thing, too," she smiled, returning the same gentle squeeze.
She eased into a hug, wrapping her arms around his torso and rested her head on his chest. Her unbound hair splayed over him like a silken baby blanket. She closed her eyes for a moment, just merely resting as her breathing calmed down. "Was it hard? Without me..." she asked him.
"It was..." Solus replied, causing Rina to hug him tighter. "But that doesn't really matter now." He continued. "Knowing you're ok is enough for me to keep going..." He paused for a moment as he decided to change the subject. "So what exactly is the point of this lighthouse anyway? Apart from it being a lighthouse... One doesn't normally have so many rooms."
She blinked, sitting up a bit and leaning more into Solus. "Umm..." she mumbled, thinking of a way to put it simply. "From what I can understand, it... guides the dead here."
She glanced up at Solus, her eyes filling with awed confusion. "And... they have problems," she continued, glancing away embarrassingly, "and I've basically just been comforting them. Helping them come to terms with their... brokenness, I guess you can call it. But they don't remind me of ghosts or zombies, or anything like that, Solus. I wasn't told what to do, I just sort of knew..."
She sighed, really not liking her own explanation. "All I was told that if I leave the island or if the light goes out, I will surely die," she stated in a matter-of-fact tone. "Oh, and as to the rooms, I dunno. They were all here already. I've only kept them cleaned."
Rina glanced up at Solus, wondering if he wanted more information. "He seemed very much alive to me..." The man said, remembering his senses kicking in as the old man entered the kitchen back there. "So what do you mean by brokenness exactly?"
She sighed lightly through her nose, but the challenge of this was refreshing compared to her day-to-day routine. "Right. Well, let's see. It's like their body is alive... because I feed them, right? But inside, they... are dead. Broken willed. Their spirits were just out of there. And I... I guess I felt a sense of duty to just take care of them, talk to them. You know? Comfort them. And..."
She glanced at the white door before them. "When the knell strikes, that door opens and they leave. That's all I know. An' don't even ask me where the knell is, I've tried to find it. No luck at all, really," she chuckled.
Retreating back into his protective arms, she fingered his stomach through his coat, making little figure eights and trailing creases to flatten them out. I hope that satisfies him for now, because I really have no clue about this place. Long as I've been here, it's still a mystery.
"I see..." Solus said thoughtfully as he realized what she was talking about. "You mean Shattered Souls..." Remembering his broken self, and how he used such souls, as they seemed to be the only ones he had a chance to grasp when he practiced his necromancy. People who had suffered throughout their life, were left broken.
"I... guess?" she replied, somewhat confused, but then her body tensed up as some memories surfaced. "Though not ... not all of them made it..."
"What do you mean?" Solus asked curiously, his hand reaching for the back of her head.
She gave him a long look, the irises in her pupils swirling. Glancing away, almost closing her eyes. "Nothing dramatic. They just... stopped moving. Truly dead, I thought," she explained, her shoulders sinking. His caress gave her strength, so she continued. "I dug a grave. Well, catacombs, I think they're called? And... I buried them in there... that's all..."
"Hmm... A place where the dead go to die..." He said to himself in thought. Slyre's title crossed his mind. The Terminus. He brought her here to comfort the dying in their final moments. Well it was his theory, a shit one at best. One worth considering, though. "How do they leave?"
Rina opened her mouth, but then a long, deep knell struck. The sound echoed throughout the room and actually seemed to be coming from behind the white door, which then opened completely. She clutched Solus, almost digging her nails into his coat. She didn't normally hang around when this happened, and in fact, this was the first time she really saw the door open. The space beyond the door was sheer, foreboding darkness, and suddenly a huge black chain (which seemed eerily familiar) zipped out of the door. It dashed through the air soundlessly and out of the room, and Rina's jaw dropped. A moment later, James came stumbling down, a smile on his face like he knew all along what was going on. His hands clasped with manacles, the dark chain gently guided him to the door, pulling him within.
The door slammed shut with finality behind him... but then opened again, leaving itself slightly ajar. Rina's forehead was ebbed with sweat beads as she stared ahead of them.
Chains, green and flaming, just as large as the black one that appeared from the door, quietly crept out of his sleeves, causing Rina to flinch back but then watch with interest. The familiarity of the black chain drawing them towards the door. They inquisitively poked and prodded the air, as if they were smelling it. Eventually they arrived at the door, creeping towards the crack that showed the darkness beyond.
Her eyes widened as she realized what was happening. "Solus!" Rina gasped, seizing his arm. "Please don't..."
"It's ok..." He said as the molten links got closer to the darkness, green fire licking its way along, spewing heat into the room. Soon the 4 chains passed into the darkness, only to suddenly create a monstrous metal scream, quickly shooting back where they came from, into his arms. Fast enough to miss them if Rina blinked; however, the sound alone made her jump off of the sofa, with her back to the wall and arms spread out for balance.
"Why you gotta scare the crap out of me?" she hissed at him, though not truly upset.
Solus looked down at his hands, unsure of what the hell just happened. "They never done that before..." He took a mental note to look into it later.
She smirked, shaking her head. "Well let's get out of here, please. This is actually my least favorite room, I... c'mon," she fussed, taking him by the hand and jokingly dragging him out of the room.
Back in the kitchen, she pulled out a rocking chair and guided Solus into it. He could probably tell that she was used to bossing people around in the lighthouse. She then began putting dishes away and cleaning the dirty ones in a soapy basin. "So what have YOU been up to, Mister 200 years," she joked, still not sure of what to make of the discrepancy between their different perceptions of the time that had passed.
"Anything you wanna know about the outside world before I begin?" Solus asked.
For some reason, the question unsettled her. Perhaps because she had never been able to observe the outside world. Though she ran a lighthouse, she'd never even seen a ship pass by. She wasn't even sure where the mainland was that this lighthouse was supposed to guide ships to. Her hands in the hot water, she pondered a moment.
"Well, I guess I've gotta ask... has 200 years really passed by out there?" she asked, before turning her head over her shoulder and gazing at him with almost sullen eyes.
"Yeah... It has. The old mansion you remember is an overgrown ruin now..." He answered. "The maps have changed... Angels and Demons live together in an uneasy peace, to my surprise... Madagascar is under the sea... The list goes on really. I only returned to the Surface a few days ago myself."
She nodded as she continued washing a plate. "Hmm. Then my uncle had long since passed away," Rina remarked curtly, as if she'd just added the minor crime of jaywalking to a list containing genocide, rape, and murder.
"I was hunting Iotans for 120 years... And I never found him." Solus added. "Who knows, maybe he's still out there." Solus' flaming chains finally came back out again, though a little more timidly this time. "Iotan chains have a slight side effect of agelessness..."
"Do they?" she replied coldly, clearly bothered by something. Putting the plate in the dish drain, she went to work on a coffee cup. "What else have you been up to, Solus? I wish I could say my time here was exciting, but it was mostly just work and..."
She paused, glancing out the window, which almost nearly reflected a complete image of her. "Self-reflection," she added with a wry smirk.
"I was hunting the Iotans in an attempt to find you. I hoped that they had some answers, but they all turned out to be duds..." He added, the feeling of guilt slammed into him again. How was he so damn stupid to not even think of searching for her on the surface? "Before that I fought in the War. Don't know if you remember it. It was when He took you... It started just before then. Killed a five thousand year old ghost who had a sword made out of a demigod inside him. Then I worked with a Vampire for a while, trying to help him find his sister. That didn't really work out..." He paused, remembering that merely less than an hour and half ago, they were finally reunited.
"Then I began hunting the Iotans like I mentioned earlier, trying to find you. That led me to a place called The Subatomic Plane. But that also ended up being a dead end... Then I went to hell... Searching for a way to die..." He stopped there.
Rina listened to his fascinating tales quietly as she resumed her work. Some of the details were fleeting, but that was alright. She knew that she couldn't pretend to understand it all, though she sorely wished she could have been there with him. Then again, she wondered how things might have turned out if she had? Would it really had been for the better? She came to terms with her isolation a long time ago and she really enjoyed who she had become. But she never forgot Solus. Not once did she give up hope, though he clearly had given up on her. But she was not about to rub that in his face, because what if their positions had been switched?
A memory struck. I once saved him from those Iotans before, didn't I? She pursed her lips thoughtfully as she put the last dish away. His last comment then drew her gaze to him. He wanted to die... she sighed, nodding. She had wanted to die, too. But her experience with the broken ones here completely wiped out any sense of self, for she realized that there were people with bigger problems than her own.
"Come, let me show you around," she smiled sweetly, her eyes piercing his soul with love and affection. Or so she hoped.
"Yeah, let's go." He replied with a weary smile.
For the next 10 or so minutes, Rina escorted him, their arms in lock, everywhere, starting at the top. She explained that guests had different tastes in bedroom styles, and that they mostly just slept when they weren't eating or ruminating over their lives. Sometimes she had several at once, and had to keep some of them separated lest they fight and bicker. She showed Solus a library, filled with dusty tomes and scrolls. She told him that she had looked at each one, and only a few of them were in a language that she could understand. A few of them, however, were autobiographies, and seemed to talk about the previous caretaker of the lighthouse. It was how she came to have a better understanding of her purpose here.
Down on the ground outside she showed him a mining shaft that she had dug, having read a book on geology and mining that piqued her interest greatly. Several kinds of ores and rocks were under this island, and she had experimented with them all. Which then led them to her makeshift forge, though its smoke and flames were long gone. Several attempts to make guns were plastered on the wall, which she embarrassingly admitted was just for fun. Next, she showed him a garden, full of exotic vegetables and fruit that seemed to thrive on this island. She told Solus that someone had already made the garden, and she had merely needed to weed it before it would grow.
Lastly, she showed him her bedroom, which was located at the base of the lighthouse. It was simple, but personal, with several drawings and paintings tacked to the walls. There was one of Thorpe, with a man standing before it, whom she said was supposed to be her uncle. Some of them were even of Solus and the Mustang, and the House of Grim. She shyly told him that she thought of him every single day and spent a few hours practicing her memories, she called it. In other words, reflecting what he had taught her and committing them to memory lest she forget.
She led him to her personal study in the corner, where she had practiced her magic over the years and honed her skills. The conversation shifted, then, to that of Slyre, and how not once did she see him here or hear from him. He'd merely dropped her off and reminded her that she would surely die if she left the island or let the light go out.
"But don't think I didn't make a boat or two," she added, exhausted somewhat as she sat on her bed and beckoned Solus to a chair next to the night stand. The candles in her room burned slowly, and in the windows, one could see the powerful beam of light slicing through the darkness over the tireless ocean waves.
"They were certainly seaworthy, but I never found the courage to actually leave," she continued, crossing her legs. "Of course, once I realized that the... guests were going to be a thing, I just focused on them... and their problems."
She nodded, complete with her story and feeling fairly satisfied. Her eyes glanced up at him under slightly battering eyelashes.
"Well..." Solus said as he pulled out the hourglass from his pocket, checking the time. He had one hour left. "Just because Slyre gave me an hourglass, doesn't mean I didn't come without a plan. Or several."
"That's my Solus," she replied coquettishly, tilting her head as though she wanted to hear more.
But then a thought came to mind, and worry stretched her face a bit thin. "Do you think you can beat him?" she asked carefully, clearly having a point to bring up once he'd answered.
"I don't intend to beat him, not fairly anyway. But if my first plan works out, that won't really matter anyway." He replied. "You see... He offered me two hours, for one hour of my own time, and a specific job. I don't know what the job entails just yet. But hopefully I can convince him for either more time, or your permanent return..."
Rina's eyes glassed over as he mentioned the words 'hours', though she merely blinked, nodded, and continued listening. She pulled her legs closer to her, laying on her side as she rested her head on her large, velvet red pillow.
"I see..." she whispered, then looked away. "Perhaps he wants you to kill someone. I've thought of why he took me... and I thought he was going to rip me to pieces..."
Her lips trembled, but she persisted strongly. "He certainly had the look to do so, but it seemed as though he realized something, and then took me to the lighthouse."
She glanced up at him. "The lighthouse wasn't our first stop. I think he took me to the Western... Realm? It was particularly hellish, but that was all he said," she added, nodding lightly, " 'Welcome to the Babysitter's home, the Western Realm.' but I've no idea what that all meant."
"Yeah..." He didn't really know what to say to that. "Do you have a vial?" He asked quite suddenly.
Smirking at the odd request, Rina rolled off of her bed and swaggered over to a closet. Opening it, one could see a few plants inside that were being allowed partial sunlight. The earthly smell of hanging, dried roots and herbs filtered into the rest of the room. In a tiny wooden box, she withdrew a clean vial. She handed it to him, her brow rising with curiosity.
Solus took it his hand and inspected it in the light. It seemed to be good enough. "Now I will need a clean syringe, and a wine cork."
"You're awfully specific, you know that?" she teased, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her nose into his face.
"This is important, Rina." His tone was firm. There was always a time for intimacy, but it was not now.
Little did she know the truth of that fact. "So is this," she countered, kissing him squarely on the spot below his eyes and above his mouth. But then she obeyed and retrieved the requested items from the same closet.
"Now alcohol and cotton. And before I forget, a tourniquet." He quickly stated as he inspected the syringe and tested the wine cork, seeing if it fit into the opening of the vile, and it did so perfectly.
"Um, 'kay," she replied, leaving the bedroom. Her footsteps could be heard zipping up the stone stairs, but before long, she returned with a flourish. "I've got this place memorized!" she giggled.
"Perfect..." Solus added, taking the items and placing them neatly beside him. "Now I need your arm." He said to her, his eyes piercing into hers.
She blanched. He could have just told me he wanted to draw blood... Sighing lightly, she cocked her eyebrows and rolled her sleeve, offering her arm like it was a piece of meat. On her skin, very faint traces of glowing runes could be seen, along with her veins. She stared right back into those eyes of his, completely undaunted by his seriousness. If this had been 200 years ago at home with him, it would have been like a determined bunny trying to give a hardened wolf its meanest death-stare. But now she was something else, not even a wolf.
Perhaps a lioness.
Solus noticed her return stare. She really had grown up, and not just physically. He gently took her hand, which she smirked at, and his rough palm slowly ran up her forearm, his thumb prodding the skin for veins. The runes on her skin were a curious sight, they only existed within before. He wrapped the tourniquet around her bicep, to push the blood down her arm.
Solus scooted a little closer to her as he placed the needle of the syringe on the vein he chose, not breaking the skin just yet. He looked up at her, straight at her lips, thought it was always difficult to tell what he was looking at. Suddenly his jagged lips collided with hers, drawing her into a deep kiss as the needle broke the skin, and pushed into the vein. His thumb pulled back on the plastic piston, her blood, which glowed slightly from the sigils on every cell, flowed into the syringe. Rina was certainly distracted by the man's considerable trickery, but she welcomed it greedily. After they parted, she hazily looked down at what he'd drawn and only felt a bit woozy for multiple reasons. She perched on the bed just in time.
"What happened?" she asked him, squinting at the syringe.
Solus placed the syringe into the vial and pushed down on the piston, ejecting the blood into the glass, and sealing the vial with the cork. "That should do the trick." He said as he pocketed the filled vial.
He looked at her woozy face, removing the tourniquet. A small dab of blood emerged from the prick, but it quickly ended there. "I drew some blood so I can track you with it. Hopefully I'll find you that way." What he didn't tell her was the purpose of the kiss. A small portion of the Black Tar that pumped through his body, entered hers, and it would be there for as long as she lived. He hoped, that it would eventually reach her spine, in doing so it establish some kind of connection between them. And as he would search for her, he would be following a 'hot and cold' trail. The 'hotter' it got, the closer he was to the parasite.
She stared at him, glancing at something over his shoulder before looking back and nodding. "Clever. I was hoping for something like that," she remarked with a smile.
The calendar on the back of her door had also drawn her sight, reminding her of her futility of trying to keep time here. Time. She pressed forward, glancing at his pocket. "Wait, how much time is left?" she asked him.
Solus pulled out the hourglass, and stared at it intently. "I think we've got a good 45 minutes left," he said, relaxing more into his chair.
"Mm." Rina nodded, tilting her head in thought. Something to do, he's already seen everything...
"What do you suggest, Rina?" he asked her.
She pursed her lips. "Let's..." she began before the light-beam device lost power again, fading everything in the room to black.
"Fuck!" she cried.
------------
Light cracked into the window pane, which had been opened half-way to let fresher air inside. The candles had gone out. Breaths in sync relayed back and forth peacefully, dreamily. They held each other, lightly cuddling on their side under a thin bed sheet. Rina hadn't really slept, as she mostly just basked in the feeling of their coupling heat.
Solus wasn't sure where to start, especially after that. So he started with a gentle, "Hey..."
"Mmm, another go?" she asked lazily like a content little kitty.
Solus took a glance at the hourglass on the bedside table. There was very little time left. "We have 5 minutes left..." He said with a sigh.
"Time is a bittersweet thing, isn't it?" she asked, her strength growing to keep him closer.
"Yeah..." He replied, running a hand along her back, his fingers tracing her spine.
"I'm scared, ... Solus," she replied, lightly squirming against the tickling sensation.
"You're not the only one."
"I know..." she whispered and hugged him once before she let him go to dress himself.
Regrettably he knew he had to get up. It was an unfortunate necessity. Parting with Rina's warmth was like parting with his skin, and deep down it was painful. As he rose, she watched him admirably as he picked up his belongings and donned them. This wasn't Solus' fastest attempt at dressing though. The sadness of leaving her behind for a second time was killing him inside. Rina could actually feel the full weight of his heavy heart resting inside her own, dragging her inward to consider her own sadness. But for what it was all worth, the essence he'd left behind and their entire 2 hour visit would sustain her for many months to come.
She hoped that it would sustain him as well.
"Until the Next, my love," she whispered wantonly and held out her hand to take his, which, he, of course, took without hesitation. But that 'fare well' phrase sounded familiar, he just couldn't pinpoint where he'd heard it. He thought nothing of it. "I'm not giving up this time. Now that I know where to look... This isn't goodbye."
She nodded and let him take his leave of the scene of their most righteous reunion. I am so happy.
Solus didn't dally, for if he stayed longer, the less he wanted to leave. So he quickly dashed out of her room, and out to the beach of the island. He looked straight up at the quickly fading stars. Not much time. He thought as he pulled out his phone. Turning in the camera and quickly snapping a panoramic image from the horizon to 90 degrees above his head. And as he pocketed the phone, the hourglass in his clutched hand shattered, and the sand particles crawled up his arm. It enveloped him entirely in less than a moment and then shrunk him down rapidly.
The sand of the hourglass remained on the beach as Solus was returned to the House of Grim, only to find Layna's body gone, the blood cleaned up, and the "fake" bomb disposed of. At his feet, he would find a little white card, carefully placed on a piece of junk so that he would see it.
It read:
'To Whom This Should Concern,
24 hours from now, we shall meet.
The location is your choice.
The promise of certitude is mine.
Sincerely,
D'
As Rina observed Solus's exodus off the island through her bedroom window, she pulled her bathrobe fully over her, fastening its belt. It was another day, but it would be unlike any other.
A large, white-gloved hand carefully placed itself on her shoulder. But she didn't even flinch, as though she'd sensed the stranger's presence beforehand.
"Well done," a rich, dutiful voice remarked.
She didn't reply, but her eyes fell to the floor with anticipation of their future.
------------
COLLAB POST: Synthorian, Mikael
Somewhere in the Atlantic, almost 2 days later...
THE WAVES POUNDED the sides of the small, thin white speedboat that sliced across the waters like a possessed knife. Upon it, two figures stared straight ahead, having heard the call of duty in this modern day of warfare. Their combined visage was of one nature: stalwart drives, silent, somber emotions. And a reckoning.
Innocence Island was in danger, and as the huge alchemic pressure directed the blind Hybrid at the helm and the shivering Huntress clutched his left arm, they both knew death was ahead of them.
Ilana Mhori recalled the last few hours carefully, to keep her mind off the bitter cold; before they heard the Call, they'd been chilling at her beach house in Florida, Netflix playing Criminal Minds as she'd laid on the couch, sick to her stomach; he had been cooking for her, that pink apron almost didn't even fit his wide physique. And then their... last mission. It had ended that morning. Against the Body Painter. 'He was just... a kid...'
Something colder than the icy Atlantic winds chilled her spine, but having experienced this enough times already, Ilana endured it.
How could she not?
She glanced up at Ethan Baine, the coloured man having stood relatively still, his large hands grasping the wheel tightly, ever since they had left with such haste. In hindsight, she'd thought it funny how easily Ethan had 'borrowed' the boat, for at the time she'd been busy consoling the owner. And his wallet. In truth, they would have simply gone to a nearby asylum hub to get some help teleporting to Innocence, but they were on their alch-fast, something they did yearly to practice restraint on their alchemy use, as well as challenge each other to invent new ways that suppressed the need for alchemy; powerful methodologies that normal humans couldn't truly comprehend, let alone wield against monsters. Ilana only hoped they'd get there in time.
But at the moment, she could only concern herself with her partner; His substantial, but subdued distress leeched into her psyche, through their link. But she knew better than to probe him about it, as she rarely could soothe him with her own emotions. He shifted his weight towards her; an acknowledgement. 'He notices me so easily...'
"Um..." Ilana muttered, breaking the silence in between the waves. Despite having been partnered for a handful of years, she was still getting used to her partner's demeanor and nuances.
"Hmm?" he noised deeply, pressing on her mind with a crystal clear clarity that made her even more nervous.
She could barely think. Why was that? Maybe she was still feeling ill, albeit she'd stopped coughing and sneezing a few hours ago. She shook her head, hoping he'd disregard her untimely utterance. But of course he did, yet his distress spiked briefly. It alarmed her, stilled her breath. Did she do that? Should she say sorry? Her gaze fell downwards slightly as her nose scrunched up a bit to the left, as it was wont to do when embarrassment splashed across her pores and freckles.
"Wat on yer mind, Illa?" he interrupted gently. 'Thank you.'
"Oh, just... Innocence. Prompt was so urgent, you know?" she replied, looking up at him.
"Mmhmm... she's there too. Pree bad..." Ethan commented.
"Bet Geko's there as well," she smirked.
"Oh, don't even start... ha...damn loli," Ethan joked, causing her to swat him lightly.
Ilana beamed. She made him chuckle. "Game of chicken always piss him off though, remember? Always savin' ya," Ethan went on, reflecting on Geko always saving Ilana when she was in danger.
"Yeah, but only because of your shenanigans. Too many risks..." Ilana countered, scolding him with a squinted gaze and smirk.
"Baby, I don't risks. Y'know that. Always calculated, all scenes plot out, yeah? Always has been," the Sciencer snorted, shaking his head.
She rolled her eyes. "Ah huh..."
"Still be nice, though. Like, raise his spirits, you know? It's a hard marriage," Ethan stated, sighing slightly.
She was moved. "Well, sure, I guess. I mean, yeah he'd love that, I'm sure. But after the mission, okay?" she told him, to which Ethan did not respond.
Ilana sighed with relief. She knew now was not the time for a crazy plan that somehow always worked out. Not when Innocence was danger, when ... the kids. She closed her eyes, the faces of many young ones flashing before her. Looking up, smiling. Frowning. Shocked. In love. Adoration. Inspired. All such were their moods, evident with each nuance of the mouth, eyes, and wrinkles. And she loved each one of them, especially... a very young brunette gazed at her mind's eye. Her mouth soured to a frown. Who was that? No. She remembered. But... was she still there?
Ilana swallowed, feeling like she was forgetting something important amongst the things she did remember. 'Bits...?'
Bits of the water splashed her face, snapping Ilana out of her reverie. She noticed now that storms across the horizon had gathered already, signalling their approach into the Area.
Ethan sped the boat up again. Again? Ilana glanced down at the lever. It'd been at full crank since they started onward, haven't it? Speed alone wouldn't get them to Innocence in time, but she knew Ethan could find shortcuts where nobody else could; in the weather, the waves, micromanaged actions. Plus, it was a beeline after all, and not all parts of the ocean moved at the same speed. So why did he speed up?
"Ethan?" Ilana asked, but then realized the left side of his mouth had curled up.
Unfortunately, she thought nothing of it and let him focus.
A few minutes later, Ilana found herself looking around, noticing a few familiar signs regarding the situation that Ethan had put them in; they were in a hurry; people were in danger; they were moving fast; he was in control; they haven't discussed the plan; he was smirking.
Her pupils dilated as her head tilted up, a bodyless sense of numbness encompassing her nerves as though she was a head floating in space.
Ethan was in control.
She was in the dark.
The smirk.
Ethan, was, in, control...
Her head tilted back down now and her nostrils flared as it dawned on her mind, and what he'd said earlier about a game of chicken.
'Uh oh...'
"It on the horizon?" Ethan asked, startling her.
"Uh! Um, yeah... I see it," Ilana replied, nodding quickly.
She focused on the island, almost forgetting her epiphany as she squinted for details. Something. Anything that would indicate its current state. But then Ethan shifted into high gear, the final gear. The boat roared forward with a surge, nearly forcing her back, but he'd held onto her by flexing his arm tightly onto her grasp. This also served to remind her of the game.
The Game.
Ilana bit her lip gently, a sinking feeling of grief starting to anchor her to cold, hard reality - Ethan remained quiet in her mind.
'About time, heh... ah, here comes Denial...' Ethan mused, his plan churning closer to fruition.
'It's nothing. No big deal. Reading into things again. Even if not, he's probably just trying to scare me, win our alch fast... yeah, I'm gonna have a good laugh about this later with him and the crew. Heh, heh... heh... eheh...' her mind raced.
Still, she eyed the lever. Then Ethan. Then the lever again. She knew they had to slow down at some point. They couldn't just crash into the damn island's pier. Maybe he was just preoccupied with haste, and simply forgot. So, she (rather nonchalantly) slipped one hand onto the lever. She simultaneously rubbed her head against his arm, her silken hair tickling him (to no avail).
A dark flash crossed her hand, stinging her as she withdrew her hand and recoiled. Did he just slap her hand? The size of his balls pulled on her sense of gravity. Ilana grabbed the lever this time, all coyness and pretense gone. Again, he slapped her hand away - not enough to truly hurt, she knew he was holding back, but it was enough to make her lose her footing.
"Nope!" Ethan barked, as she teetered backwards in the bouncy boat.
She knew it. He was fucking up to something! Again! Her eyes twisted with a glare as she saw the lever (broken) sailing over her head. A gasp dropped her mouth. Now their course was set. For certain. She sat there, staring up at him.
'...and now Anger...' he nodded, as she finally got to her feet.
Ilana swat at the air. "Well, this is just fucking perfect, Ethaniel!" she shouted at him.
She kicked the floor. "Stupid ocean! Stupid speedboat!" she growled.
She threw a bucket out of the boat. "I'm gonna bite someone in their fucking face!" Ilana cried, inhaling another breath.
She whipped her head up and down, her lungs at full power as she reached a feverish pitch.
"Muuuther fucker! MOTHER fucker!" she bellowed, stressing each syllable, "Mother FUCKER! Stupid AMRO!"
As she continued venting her frustration, her toe was stubbed. "Aww fuck! ... FUUUUUUUUCK!!!!!!" she screamed in pain.
'...followed by Bargainin'...' he smirked lightly.
The island was getting closer. She saw this, knowing she had little time. She clung to his arm, standing up on her toes, trying to get in his line of sight. He hadn't responded to her verbal pleas, so she tried their mental link.
'Ethan, are you there? It's me... Ilana. P-please. Pleeease.. don't do this. I... I promise. N-No more... uh, blowing things out of proportion. And I'll eat when you make food! And, and no nagging. Yeah, I'll give you space! 'kay? Heh... we got a deal?'
"Nupe," Ethan replied out loud.
She broke.
'...dere's Depression. Yeeeup.' Ethan thought, gripping the steering wheel tighter.
Ilana bawled uncontrollably, tears streaking down her red cheeks as she grasped the back of Ethan's left leg with both trembling arms. Her hair continued to whip wildly as she pressed her forehead firmly up against his thigh. The roar of the speedboat's engine and the erratic waves clapping them on by could barely drown her out, cutting her off every few seconds. But Ethan would not budge, even as she begged him with nonsensical noises and mewling, her tone switching between lowly groaning to high pitch screeches, and all in between. After a couple minutes, she hushed and sat back on her haunches, her knees and legs forming a W; 'twas the way she once perched as a child that merited scoldings from her guardians.
And 'twas how she felt now before her partner: like a child.
Ethan turned his head, going through the motions of glancing down at her (even though he could see right through his flesh and skull).
"Mm... you a'ight, baby?" he asked calmly.
She didn't answer him, her bangs covering her eyes and lips quivering.
After a few minutes, Ilana was now standing there next to him, her face dried and composed. She no longer clutched his arm, simply grasped the railing and looked forward with him. She spoke not a single word, nor did her lovely face, transfixed serenely by the sight of their destination, portray any concern whatsoever.
"You know something-" she finally stated, nodding slowly as her eyes drifted to her right.
'And finally, ... Acceptance,' Ethan smiled proudly.
"-I'm cool with this," Ilana stated with a tranquil voice. "I mean, yeah, I bet Heaven has all the kids we've saved, all the ones we've put down, all happy and waiting for us. No alchemy. No fighting. No speedboats. Right?"
Ethan nodded. "Hey, maybe, huh?"
As Innocence neared closer, Ilana started breathing quickly again, her nostrils blaring loudly. This was it. She understood his plan. He was driving them straight to the greatest source, on boat. A speedy one. That needed water to move, not land.
"You gonna jump first, you know. Mmhmm," Ethan teased her.
"Ethan. I'm not in a good mood right now," Ilana droned.
"You need greater heights, Taj, but you gonna use alchemy?" Ethan pressed on, bristling his partner's fear of... pushing herself harder and harder with aerial maneuvers.
"Ethan... it's just a silly bet... c'mon..." she stated with a sigh.
"Nope. Our way of life, Illa. Why change it? It works," Ethan nodded.
They were going to die. She knew this now. The man was insane. Why hadn't she capped him already? Asylums were supposed to take down their partners when they succumb to Insanadiction. She was clearly breaking protocol.
"Receive my soul, Adonai, I await your loving embrace..." Ilana prayed softly, feeling the weight of her pending death.
"Hey! Ain't got time to die, fuck," Ethan hissed at her when suddenly the entire island seemed to have exploded.
Even Ethan could see it, and as Ilana cried out in surprise, covering her eyes, he simply stared ahead, trying to grasp what just happened. He'd felt an alchemic drive that nearly fried his mind, but it hadn't come from the pressure source he'd been trailing.
"WHAT'D YOU DO?" Ethan roared at Ilana, his teeth bared.
"Wh-what? I-" she protested with confusion as she held on tightly to him.
"-YOU PISSED OFF GOD!" he spat, driving like a mad man as he veered sharply to the right.
"Ethan, stop! What you doing, it's still there I can see-" she pleaded.
"-Water! The fucking water!!" Ethan shouted, his face a complete grimace.
Ilana's eyes went wide as she realized the gap around the island where the water had been... was now filling, and pushing out an island-shaped tsunami all away from Innocence.
It was coming right toward them, picking up height and speed.
Fortunately, Ethan had a plan. He always did. He quickly explained to Ilana through their link that tsunamis were not one wave, but several, all of which was called a wave train. The smaller waves broke apart over time, and even go in the opposite direction of the initial wave build up, back towards Innocence. She understood that part, of course. It made sense. Of course they still had to dodge the main one, but she didn't grasp why the smaller waves were important to him.
It was a close shave, and even Ethan felt they weren't going to make it. It was actually fairly trivial to bypass the main wave, but it was still a sight to behold: like a giant claw raking out of the ocean as it went past them. Ilana could barely think as Ethan navigated close to it, chasing one of the smaller waves as they broke apart and gained height. She couldn't see how they were going to 'catch' one, but she was confident that his little scheme was going to prove her right. That failure was possible, even in his master plans.
Then... the water below the speedboat began to pick them up, pushing up higher and higher. And Ilana gave up. It was stupid to argue with Ethan when Nature seemed to be on his side.
So Team Mischief Maven sailed towards Innocence, on a speedboat atop a mini tsunami that was powered by black balls of steel.
As Maeve and Kiara renewed their assault on the Vile, and the rest of the young asylums have gathered, in their own ways, a large shadow flew over them as a tidal wave washed on by past the beach. The sound of a roaring engine split the air. If they'd look up, they'd see a single man standing atop the helm, bracing himself for impact. Another figure would catch their eye, perhaps - a small lady with wild hair and fearlessness forced into her eyes. She landed in a tree, disappearing from sight.
But the man, now he waited til the last moment as the speedboat was about to crash upon the Vile's head.
Ethan's body contorted as he rolled off, impacting the ground and rolling some more. His momentum brought him towards the Chrono, but then he uncurled and skidded slightly into a kneeling position a couple yards away from her. The remnant of force brought him to a stand, onto his tiptoes as he then maintained his balance and stood at attention. With his back to the motorboated Vile, a gold emblem on a cigar shimmered with light as he brought it to his mouth.
"I win," Ethan announced (to Ilana, despite facing everyone else).
Then the speedboat exploded, too. Of course it did. Flaming shrapnel encroached on the teams' safety, but only a bit of it landed on the black man's shoulder, which he helped himself to.
Lighting his cigar, then brushing off the shrapnel, Ethan turned towards Julie, his hands on his hips. "Hey boss," he nodded, bowing ever so slightly.
Ilana slid down the side of a tree, pulling twigs and leafy bits out of her hair. She sauntered towards Ethan and Julie, past the group of asylums as she glanced at a few of them. Her facial expression stated only one simple fact: she had no fucks left to give. Nope, not a single one.
"Hey, Taj, you so jumpy today," Ethan greeted her with a half-grin.
"Shut. Up," Ilana enunciated with a scowl.
Fucking somewhere.
CRACK
Ilana's 73rd David Jumbo sunflower seed (Jalapeno flavor) lost its shell, which then flew out with an audible spoot and landed on the previously pristine floor, next to a few other shells. Her partner stood on her left, slightly behind her, with his hands hanging their thumbs on his belt like some kind of cowboy. Team Mischief Maven had arrived without notice, seeming to have merged with the crowd without ever having NOT been apart of it. Paradoxical stealth at its finest.
Yet the Air Jew herself gave no shits about maintaining that cover, her munching and spooting highlighting every silence in the room, every pause between sentences spoken by the other people. Her eyes had been staring blankly, bored, even as she occasionally caught Maeve's ogling. After all that pointless debriefing, and a few introductions, now suddenly a pique of interest? Her cheeks flushed something fierce, only then fading as her eyes narrowed at the (quite) younger girl. Looking at Maeve just made Ilana want to beat Ethan to a pulp with his fucking hand before fucking his brains out. But then again, she wouldn't win. In the end. Not with that anaconda lurking around anyway. But here, Maeve, the schoolyard bully, seemed in need of a reality check regarding the pecking order.
CRACK spoot 'You fuck that one?' she'd snorted in Ethan's mind.
The Sciencer remembered Maeve, back from Innocence. 'Nope.' he'd replied, thinking about which bloodline they were gonna babysit.
CRACK 'Mine.' spoot
'Yah, whatev.'
'No whatev, you're not gonna have a lonely!'
'...wat?'
'Yeeeah, I can smell his sex, but it came outta his mind,' Ilana giggled, sending Ethan a mental picture of Raytheon.
'...That's nice, hon,' Ethan mentally sighed.
She chuckled again, bunching her seeds to one side of her mouth. Just as Raytheon's introduction ended, which had given Ethan no cause for recourse in his pondering, the crazed Israeli tensed up. The room disappeared. The outside ate them. And eyes seemed to have fallen on them. Why? They were going to shoot them. IT WAS GO-TIME!
'Relax, Illa, I got this.' Ethan assured her, reminding her of introductions.
Ilana visibly rolled her eyes, making a show of looking away and retreating behind Ethan as he came forth. She hated introducing herself to people who were just going to die, or worst yet, just fucking disappear. Then she'd have to think about them. Most of them kids, never had sex. Or enough of it. But always high strung and cock-sure. But they just die, their bodies rip, minds clipped, all of them w---
'SHUT DA FUCK UP!!' Ethan roared, instantly quelling Ilana and shrinking her presence in his mind to the size of a pinpoint.
Yet on the surface of things, Ethan seemed to have merely stalled, or maybe just considering his words. Especially with Benedict Cumberbatch (Raytheon) over there, about to blow out another monologue. Minimalist? Ethan considered the irony of the man's very words, figuring it didn't translate over to verbal exchanges.
"Sup, y'all, so yeh... I'm Ethan and that's I--" he began, just as Ilana hopped onto his back and used him as a diving board.
The Air Jew sailed toward Maeve just as she finished stretching and summing up the mission. A mischievous grin and impish visage was probably the last thing Maeve was expecting after a debriefing, but Ethan, having hardly been floored by this antic, shook his head. He simply stood there, a look on his face that said he wouldn't care even if a puppy lit on fire just fell on his head from a 10 story building while C'thulhu popped out of the ocean and pantsed him. Landing in front of her and Kiara, Ilana proceeded to leer and inch right into Maeve's personal space, the momentum of her descent cracking the ground. With her breath hot and dank from the soiled-shell seeds in her mouth, it was not hard to imagine its insides.
"Hiya cunt, how ya doin'?" Ilana rasped, a giggle somehow escaping a throat that had no air flow.
Her hands, claws really, then snatched the Banshee's face, pulling her down to her height, after which her tongue dove into Maeve's mouth, along with a few choice seeds that would be left behind. Swirling around only briefly but slipping into every nooky and cranny, Ilana retreated her assault, taking Maeve's breath with her and nearly asphyxiating the poor asylum. Yet poorer still was on the rise. Ilana then used an ounce of her strength (1%? 5%? Something) and backhanded Maeve so hard that she flew off her feet and bounced on the ground. With a huff and growing battle lust, the veteran slipped up onto a nearby crate, and faced everyone in mid chew. CRACK...
spoot
She pointed a gnarled finger at every other gal, her voice on the verge of cracking. "Your bodies will rip, minds clip, and all yer pink canoes are mine!" she barked, before vanishing with a mere slip around a building corner.
Ethan chewed lightly on the inside of his mouth. In the distance, someone screamed in surprise, then the sound of breaking glass prompted him.
"That's Ilana. ... supposedly." he finished, taking off after her with a jog.
"We'll catch up," he hollered at Crow and Reri, as everyone (perhaps equal parts bemused and shocked) was ushered towards the ship that was definitely not going to sink at some point.
WIP
Nicknames:
Solo, and Solok (so-lock)
RP Timeline:
On this site three years, total about 10.
Preferred Pronouns:
Male.
Preferred Genres:
Fantasy, specifically sci-fi, and steam punk, along with medieval.
Participation Type:
Unbound: (1, and 2)
Roleplay Sample:
A piano was slowly playing from hidden speakers around the café. The symphony started playing as well, bringing it from piano to fortissimo while Vince sat at the table, studying the people across from him. Vince was wearing a white T-shirt, and blue jeans, nice casual attire to go with the glasses he had on. They had a small HUD displayed on them. It told him the time, weather, and had some reminders that he would find useful later. As his parent's profession afforded them a lot of money he had the latest Tinkerfab. The girl next to him was a petite redhead, who was admittedly a bit busty, and a bit older then Vince. He had already forgotten his date's name. A 'friend' from school was across the table with a blonde girl as his partner.
The café itself was bustling with waiters and waitresses entering and leaving small doors at the back that led to the kitchen. A tea was placed in front of Vince, and though he just ignored it, he thanked the waitress. He didn't enjoy the atmosphere as much as most people might. It had almost a snobby air to it, as if hinting that all the occupants should be honored to even be allowed to occupy the spaces they did.
Solo, and Solok (so-lock)
RP Timeline:
On this site three years, total about 10.
Preferred Pronouns:
Male.
Preferred Genres:
Fantasy, specifically sci-fi, and steam punk, along with medieval.
Participation Type:
Unbound: (1, and 2)
Roleplay Sample:
A piano was slowly playing from hidden speakers around the café. The symphony started playing as well, bringing it from piano to fortissimo while Vince sat at the table, studying the people across from him. Vince was wearing a white T-shirt, and blue jeans, nice casual attire to go with the glasses he had on. They had a small HUD displayed on them. It told him the time, weather, and had some reminders that he would find useful later. As his parent's profession afforded them a lot of money he had the latest Tinkerfab. The girl next to him was a petite redhead, who was admittedly a bit busty, and a bit older then Vince. He had already forgotten his date's name. A 'friend' from school was across the table with a blonde girl as his partner.
The café itself was bustling with waiters and waitresses entering and leaving small doors at the back that led to the kitchen. A tea was placed in front of Vince, and though he just ignored it, he thanked the waitress. He didn't enjoy the atmosphere as much as most people might. It had almost a snobby air to it, as if hinting that all the occupants should be honored to even be allowed to occupy the spaces they did.
Name:
Mato Sif
Species:
Human
Appearance:
Mato's hair is naturally a fluorescent blue, and he has blue eyes. A predominately white cloak adorns his body, with blue accents covering it in sharp lines. He has pristine thick white wool gloves that he wears out of habit, mostly to protect him from fainting at the slightest touch. He normally wears a hood over his face, and hides in the recess of shadow it provides.
Basic concept:
White mage, more specifically biokinesis and contact based telekinesis. Upon engaging in direct physical contact (specifically skin to skin) Mato gains a complex yet complete understanding of the creatures biochemistry, as long as the creature he is touching is 100% biological, If, for example, 50% complex technology, and 50% biological Mato will only understand the biological parts. The flood of information he gets about a creature is one time, and he is able to recall it at a thought. Unfortunately the first information flood is also very draining, and Mato has been known to faint at the slightest touch of a new creature. The information is based on species, so a repeat touch from the same species won't drain him as much, but he will still be exhausted. Mato has no choice to accept the information. His biokinesis only extends to one person at a time, and only takes affect upon physical contact. He can use his biokinesis to change anything from brain chemistry, to healing wounds. Mato could even go as far as to make someone his slave by manipulating their brain chemistry. A complete change in a person that goes against their nature would take around ten minutes, while smaller changes would take about 30-40 seconds.
Changing someone's brain chemistry, or healing a wound would drain his energy, exhausting him. Healing a small scratch would be the physical equivalent of running 1,320 feet, while significant wounds would be a mile. Vice versa would apply for brain chemistry changing, where he literally creates and breaks neural pathways. Doing a significant brain chemistry change without harming the person in the long run would require all of his physical energy. Inducing a coma like state on the target would allow him to preform major magical surgery over days, with almost guaranteed success. However if the wounds are too extensive, the patient could die during surgery through blood loss, internal bleeding (or hemorrhaging), or any other lethal means.
The magic he preforms has the physical appearance of blue flames, or blue lightning spreading across the target's body. However the information flood that he first receives has no outward appearance. The magic will only be visible above the areas he is affecting, though a small line of magic does appear depending on the distance from the area Mato is affecting to his hand. While Mato is preforming surgery he has to use all of his attention, going as far to close his eyes to block out distractions. He has gotten good enough at the magical surgery he preforms that he can normally devote all of his attention to the task. Despite how comfortable he is with preforming surgery, his magical talent still scares him.
Anyone who can see mana in it's base form would see Mato as a roaring fire. He holds a great deal of mana, but uses it in a sloppy enough way that a lot is wasted. His mana use could be considered predominately inefficient.
His power is considered T3.
Basic story:
Mato was born to a drunken father and prostitute mother, who abandoned him at seven in favor of him having a future as a cleric. His magical abilities stumped many a cleric who studied him, and eventually he was cast out from the church. This happened at the age of 15 when the view that he was an abomination became the predominant one among the clerics. He is currently wandering at the age of seventeen, mostly searching for a purpose.
Location:
Olias
Equipment:
As stated earlier, Mato wears a predominately white and blue robe, with a torn, almost threadbare black shirt underneath it. His pants are in a similar condition to his shirt, and are the same color. Mato has white wool gloves he wears consistently, excluding when he is preforming surgery. He has a small dark green knapsack with him at almost all times, normally storing food, and water skins within it, along with any funds he currently has.
Nicknames: Ek, Clispe, nerd,
RP Timeline: Round abouts 2 years.
Preferred Pronouns: He
Preferred Genres: I'll read just about anything I can get my hands on, RP wise its mostly the same, though I haven't done much sci-fi yet.
Participation Type:
Unbound:(Lore Creation, World Exploration)
Roleplay Sample:
Shiro growled a bit in spite of himself. This brute was a bit stronger than the other one. Doubting that he could wrest the pole from the Thug's grasp he reluctantly released the weapon in time to dodge a wild swing of the club. Knowing that he had to act fast before the two enemy programs recovered from whatever he had done Shiro rushed forward, slipping behind the Thug and letting out a yelp of pain as a second swing of the club smacked into the meaty portion of his thigh before he completed the maneuver. Luckily only one of several protruding nails scrapped the outside of his leg, leaving a ragged bleeding gash, very painful, but not too debilitating. In a movement born of hours of practice Shiro's arms slipped around the Thug's arms and snaked into a distinctive lock on the Thug's neck. It was one half half nelson and one half sleeper hold, technically a move he had only seen on TV but he'd done both halves of the move before so it was a simple matter.
In another moment Shiro bent down, slamming his knees into the back of his victim's knees and heaved upwards and backwards, forcibly lifting the Thug into the air and slamming it on its head, leaving Shiro in a bridge position with the Thug on top of him, the only major difference between them being that the Thug's head was slightly embedded into the floor from the impact. Shiro was breathing heavily as he waited for a moment for any movement. If he felt even a twitch he would twist sideways and slam the Thug into the ground once more, reversing their current position and shoving the Thug's face into the ground. If even that failed to get rid of him then Shiro would continue choking the Thug until he finally gave in. Given the Thug either managed to convincing play dead or was disabled Shiro would extricate himself and re-arm himself, with the intent of finishing off the remaining blinded hound that had tried to attack him in a similar fashion to the first two. Hopefully it would drop as easily as the first.
RP Timeline: Round abouts 2 years.
Preferred Pronouns: He
Preferred Genres: I'll read just about anything I can get my hands on, RP wise its mostly the same, though I haven't done much sci-fi yet.
Participation Type:
Unbound:(Lore Creation, World Exploration)
Roleplay Sample:
Shiro growled a bit in spite of himself. This brute was a bit stronger than the other one. Doubting that he could wrest the pole from the Thug's grasp he reluctantly released the weapon in time to dodge a wild swing of the club. Knowing that he had to act fast before the two enemy programs recovered from whatever he had done Shiro rushed forward, slipping behind the Thug and letting out a yelp of pain as a second swing of the club smacked into the meaty portion of his thigh before he completed the maneuver. Luckily only one of several protruding nails scrapped the outside of his leg, leaving a ragged bleeding gash, very painful, but not too debilitating. In a movement born of hours of practice Shiro's arms slipped around the Thug's arms and snaked into a distinctive lock on the Thug's neck. It was one half half nelson and one half sleeper hold, technically a move he had only seen on TV but he'd done both halves of the move before so it was a simple matter.
In another moment Shiro bent down, slamming his knees into the back of his victim's knees and heaved upwards and backwards, forcibly lifting the Thug into the air and slamming it on its head, leaving Shiro in a bridge position with the Thug on top of him, the only major difference between them being that the Thug's head was slightly embedded into the floor from the impact. Shiro was breathing heavily as he waited for a moment for any movement. If he felt even a twitch he would twist sideways and slam the Thug into the ground once more, reversing their current position and shoving the Thug's face into the ground. If even that failed to get rid of him then Shiro would continue choking the Thug until he finally gave in. Given the Thug either managed to convincing play dead or was disabled Shiro would extricate himself and re-arm himself, with the intent of finishing off the remaining blinded hound that had tried to attack him in a similar fashion to the first two. Hopefully it would drop as easily as the first.
Name
Jarvan Gearshield
Species
Human
Appearance
Basic concept
A mercenary with all the tools and skills to do the job but an aversion to killing. I believe skills, training, and equipment put him at the higher end of T2
Basic story
Jarvan was born to your average underworld family in Vaemia. From birth he was raised to be a tool for his family, specifically a tool to take care of any rivals or troublesome people. His work started early and his proved himself to be quite effective in what he did. Save for the fact that he managed to avoid killing his targets, unless specifically stated. To further support this preference of his Jarvan deviated from the more lethal tools he was given to do his job and handmade most of his equipment in a small workshop, paid for with his parent's considerable funds.
His reasons were valid and things always turned out to the family's advantage because of Jarvan's skill in handling these matters but this possibility of morality in their child worried his parents. Before the issue could be addressed however his parents were marked and attacked, much like how they how done to countless others. Engine failure is a little more significant when your flying thousands of feet up and ground and for some reason all the emergency measures, both from the city and the vehicle, seem to fail. Jarvan was more distraught by the fact that his funds were reduced and his income had vanished than his parent's deaths. Using the skills and small reputation he had he made work for himself as a mercenary in the seedy underbelly of the city.
Location
Vaemia
Equipment
Logic: A small hand gun that fires bullets that dissolve on impact, releasing a powerful burst of toxins that paralyze most enemies within seconds. Can also fire lethal rounds but the rounds must be handcrafted by Jarvan because of the gun's design, thus he uses them infrequently.
Reason: A shortsword that is made out of a very expensive anti-magic material, allowing it to cut through most lesser forms of magic, a rune on the hilt also glows when in the presence of magic.
Ghost Cloak: A long black cloak that runs on a mix of the user's magic and batteries held in a pack at the wearer's waist. The small magic compentent simply slowly drains the user's energy and makes them less noticeable, but by no means invisible. The batteries can either electrify the cloak, allowing it to fully empty its batteries to release enough voltage to paralyze anyone who touches it for several seconds, or turn on a stealth mode of sorts. The stealth mode hides the wearer's body heat and creates distortions that made it hard to see the exact location of the wearer.
Radiation Pen: A small laser-light pen that marks whatever it shines upon with a distinct radioactive signature.
Vari-Goggles: A very expensive pair of googles that can switch through night and thermal vision, as well as track anything that has been marked with his pen.
Earbuds: Small, hard to notice objects inserted in both ears and controlled by a small remote, they can enhance the user's hearing slightly as well as focus it in a specific direction. Can also be used to ignore people.
Flash-Bangs: Several grenade like objects that emit a disorienting flash of light and noise upon hard impacts after activation. Vari-Goggles and earbuds automatically shield from this effect.
Chocolate Lady A Choclate thief
Member
Seen
8 yrs ago
((WIP))
Nicknames: Choc, Chocolate, Choco
RP Timeline: 1 1/2 years
Preferred Pronouns: She, her,
Preferred Genres: Realistic and fantasy, manga/anime.
Participation Type:
Unbound:(Lore Creation, World Exploration)
Roleplay Sample:
RP Timeline: 1 1/2 years
Preferred Pronouns: She, her,
Preferred Genres: Realistic and fantasy, manga/anime.
Participation Type:
Unbound:(Lore Creation, World Exploration)
Roleplay Sample:
coGM
Nicknames: Overlord, Gan, "That son of a-"
RP Timeline: 5-6 Years
Preferred Pronouns: Is Overlord a pronoun?
Preferred Genres: Fantasy
Participation Type: World Destruction/Exploration
Roleplay Sample:
The sound of ringing glass filled the hall as the lion dureva slammed his drink back on the bar counter. His figure was extremely large and imposing, nearly twice the size of the nearest man to him, though no one sat next to him. He looked remarkably human for a dureva, the only real differences being the fangs he had, as well as a large mane of fur across his shoulders. Next to him sat a large club, which buckled the floor beneath it. He looked annoyed.
"Still no info on that child, hume? What about all that 'magic', and technology you humes adore? What about the gods you all worship? All of it can't grant me one wish?
A frustrated expression came across the bartender's face as he cleaned about the 10th glass from the man. No matter how much this beast drank, he never seemed the least bit tipsy.
"Arieh, with all do respect, we aren't miracle workers."
A growl came from Arieh.
"And don't you dare roar in my bar. People are iffy enough about us serving your kind. Here in Olias, we might welcome tourist, but anything more... is less than welcome."
The lion dureva could only shake his head, and pick up his 11th glass.
"How much?"
"What?"
"How much more do I have to pay in your.... money to increase the range of your search?"
"More than a dureva would have."
The growl returned, before the door burst open.
"Hey, any hunters here? A monster was seen on the outskirts, an elite mark!"
Ariel finished his drink, oddly calmed by it, before calling out to the man.
"How much is the reward?"
"I don't know, it's alot though, it's a hydra! Those things are worth their weight in gold, and they weigh alot!"
That was enough. Ariel stepped off the barstool, which would have sighed in relief if it could, and grabbed his club with one hand, as if it was a wooden stick.
"I will be back in a few hours, barkeep. I do believe whatever the pay, it will be enough money, even for you greedy humes."
RP Timeline: 5-6 Years
Preferred Pronouns: Is Overlord a pronoun?
Preferred Genres: Fantasy
Participation Type: World Destruction/Exploration
Roleplay Sample:
The sound of ringing glass filled the hall as the lion dureva slammed his drink back on the bar counter. His figure was extremely large and imposing, nearly twice the size of the nearest man to him, though no one sat next to him. He looked remarkably human for a dureva, the only real differences being the fangs he had, as well as a large mane of fur across his shoulders. Next to him sat a large club, which buckled the floor beneath it. He looked annoyed.
"Still no info on that child, hume? What about all that 'magic', and technology you humes adore? What about the gods you all worship? All of it can't grant me one wish?
A frustrated expression came across the bartender's face as he cleaned about the 10th glass from the man. No matter how much this beast drank, he never seemed the least bit tipsy.
"Arieh, with all do respect, we aren't miracle workers."
A growl came from Arieh.
"And don't you dare roar in my bar. People are iffy enough about us serving your kind. Here in Olias, we might welcome tourist, but anything more... is less than welcome."
The lion dureva could only shake his head, and pick up his 11th glass.
"How much?"
"What?"
"How much more do I have to pay in your.... money to increase the range of your search?"
"More than a dureva would have."
The growl returned, before the door burst open.
"Hey, any hunters here? A monster was seen on the outskirts, an elite mark!"
Ariel finished his drink, oddly calmed by it, before calling out to the man.
"How much is the reward?"
"I don't know, it's alot though, it's a hydra! Those things are worth their weight in gold, and they weigh alot!"
That was enough. Ariel stepped off the barstool, which would have sighed in relief if it could, and grabbed his club with one hand, as if it was a wooden stick.
"I will be back in a few hours, barkeep. I do believe whatever the pay, it will be enough money, even for you greedy humes."
Arieh
Concept:
A lion dureva from the a nomadic clan to the East, blessed with mostly human appearance, save for a mane through his shoulders, and fangs. Arieh is very conservative in his beliefs, and dislikes dealing with humes. The reason he is in Olias is his child, who was much more liberal than him, disappeared, prompting Arieh to search the world over for them. Originally a hunter for his clan, he explored and explored their nomadic route, and yet could not find them. It was then with bitter distain, he realized, out of curiosity, the unknown of the hume villages had lured them.
With a heavy heart, Arieh went against the elders, and left the clan. After the death of his wife, he had only two things left, traditions, and what was left of his family, and he had to choose. Picking up a nature gem, he made his way to Olias. However, human villages proved much different than the clan, and Arieh had trouble adjusting. With no money, no one cared about his plight. Eventually, his work as a monster hunter turned out to be the key to him gaining money. With his natural strength, fighting monsters seemed almost easier than dealing with humans. Arieh continues his search, hunting monsters to fund his expeditions, and to to create a reward for any news on what has become of his child.
(Child is vague as possible, to leave open for other people to mess with.)
Equipment:
Nature Gem- Needed for a Dureva to dwell away from their nomadic routes.
'Bane of Atlas'- A club carried by Arieh, weighing a thousand pounds. Forged from an extremely dense material, Arieh managed to order it from a smith in order to hunt monsters. Though it was created by magic, Arieh pretends to be ignorant of that fact. It's easy to disgruntle him by pointing out no dureva could have created such a club.
Abilities:
Extreme Strength- All the mana flowing through Arieh's veins is used to augment his strength many times over. With it, Arieh can bend steel, and swing his club around as if it were a stick. The result is Arieh's blows are comparable to a bazooka going off.
Roar- Strengthening his vocal cords, Arieh is able to unleash an immense roar, comparable to a dragons. This does little more than intimidate, but it does that well.
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