Auz
Within the approximate area of Dangerrutito, approximately in the air a hundred and some odd feet above and to the left, a small crack formed in the narrative layer. Through this crack bled a spray of energy that approximately resembled a combination of broken glass, television static, and the rainbow that forms on the ground where oil and water mix. It was a weird pastel energetic emission that slowly ate away at the narrative layer and eventually split it open entirely. From this split between reality, unreality, and fiction came forth quite a strange figure. A very large fat giant of a man, heavily bearded with hair that hangs down onto his back. His beard and hair alight with blue flames, and these flames were made out of feathers. Every aspect of this guy was weird. He had no eyes, just the sunken in lids where eyes used to be. Above those eyes, floating in a half-lidded stare, was a projection of a single green eye just in the center of the forehead. A pair of psychokinetic wings, made up of the same blue feathered flames as the tips of his hair and beard.
These wings, were, at the moment desperately scrambling in the air to try and get lift or attempt to glide. The mutual attempts of which were not conducive to finding either solution, and if he had just committed to one or the other, he would have succeeded.
So too was his manner of dress strange; On his right shoulder he had an entire goat's skull, complete with horns that curled up and over the shoulder. On his left arm and right leg were strange metal frameworks that seemed to be connected directly to the bones in the limbs. These metal frameworks were spring-loaded and made of some unidentifiable metal that looked tarnished and definitely unsanitary to have as an implant. Around his neck was a necklace made from an eagle's claws and feathers, around his waist was the entire pelt of a tiger excluding the head. Strangest of all, the clothes he wore aside from these odd trinkets, were totally mundane. A cracking graphic t-shirt of a mushroom on a surfboard. The words; "Grandma's In The Hospital Again." are barely legible on it. The pants are heavily worn, tattered at the cuffs, blue jeans with an unidentifiable pattern on the pockets. There's a white plaid jacket that has turned yellow from years of wearing, it is missing all of the buttons on the cuffs but he doesn't roll them up. Lastly, his feet have knock-off crocs with gel insoles, the crocs are black but they've faded to grey.
Why mention all of this? Because it is necessary to outline the oddity of his appearance as he spilled through a hole into a completely different reality, one not usually tethered to this one by any portal or gateway. He flopped and he flailed, flapping and thrashing as he crashed through the air, finding absolutely no providence from his rapid angled descent towards the side of the building that Dangerrutito was standing just outside of. Like a meteorite his immensity of mass and acceleration towards the ground turned him into a projectile, and he crashed into the corner of the structure. Sending a cascade of whatever building materials they use in hell spraying from the point of impact. As well, changing his trajectory so that he crashed bodily into the dirt. Burying his head and right arm entirely in whatever material the ground was made of in hell.
With his impact, he groaned into the earth, and just dangled there. His knees fell down and touched the ground, his other arm came to rest on the ground with the palm facing downwards. The fingers of the free hand swirled in the hell dirt, drawing little spirals.
As he was in such a humiliating position, he would be contraposed by a flickering aura that became visible like a screen-tear of the same pastel colored television static and broken glass. It would grow out from somewhere on his person, pulling an outline of itself from nothingness. Then it would snap back to the body, disappearing once again. The wings on his back of psychokinetic fire, they were slumped against the earth. Their enormity of form contrasting the utterly pathetic and embarrassing position they lay in.
With thus, Rory arrived.
These wings, were, at the moment desperately scrambling in the air to try and get lift or attempt to glide. The mutual attempts of which were not conducive to finding either solution, and if he had just committed to one or the other, he would have succeeded.
So too was his manner of dress strange; On his right shoulder he had an entire goat's skull, complete with horns that curled up and over the shoulder. On his left arm and right leg were strange metal frameworks that seemed to be connected directly to the bones in the limbs. These metal frameworks were spring-loaded and made of some unidentifiable metal that looked tarnished and definitely unsanitary to have as an implant. Around his neck was a necklace made from an eagle's claws and feathers, around his waist was the entire pelt of a tiger excluding the head. Strangest of all, the clothes he wore aside from these odd trinkets, were totally mundane. A cracking graphic t-shirt of a mushroom on a surfboard. The words; "Grandma's In The Hospital Again." are barely legible on it. The pants are heavily worn, tattered at the cuffs, blue jeans with an unidentifiable pattern on the pockets. There's a white plaid jacket that has turned yellow from years of wearing, it is missing all of the buttons on the cuffs but he doesn't roll them up. Lastly, his feet have knock-off crocs with gel insoles, the crocs are black but they've faded to grey.
Why mention all of this? Because it is necessary to outline the oddity of his appearance as he spilled through a hole into a completely different reality, one not usually tethered to this one by any portal or gateway. He flopped and he flailed, flapping and thrashing as he crashed through the air, finding absolutely no providence from his rapid angled descent towards the side of the building that Dangerrutito was standing just outside of. Like a meteorite his immensity of mass and acceleration towards the ground turned him into a projectile, and he crashed into the corner of the structure. Sending a cascade of whatever building materials they use in hell spraying from the point of impact. As well, changing his trajectory so that he crashed bodily into the dirt. Burying his head and right arm entirely in whatever material the ground was made of in hell.
With his impact, he groaned into the earth, and just dangled there. His knees fell down and touched the ground, his other arm came to rest on the ground with the palm facing downwards. The fingers of the free hand swirled in the hell dirt, drawing little spirals.
As he was in such a humiliating position, he would be contraposed by a flickering aura that became visible like a screen-tear of the same pastel colored television static and broken glass. It would grow out from somewhere on his person, pulling an outline of itself from nothingness. Then it would snap back to the body, disappearing once again. The wings on his back of psychokinetic fire, they were slumped against the earth. Their enormity of form contrasting the utterly pathetic and embarrassing position they lay in.
With thus, Rory arrived.