Legacy: Epilogue

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Asmodeus, Aug 15, 2009.

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  1. This is the story of when it all went wrong.

    Iwaku was torn apart by our hatred and our frustration, friends turning on one another and cities burned by cults and tyrants. In the end, we despaired for our world, and our despair gave birth to something new and terrifying.

    The Rift Storm.

    Rending time and space, the Rift Storms tore across the mutliverse, destroying countless worlds in countless dimensions. We saw that the end was near, and in desperation we built the Three Ships, hoping they would take us to a Sanctuary at the edge of time and space - a place the Kings of Iwaku had prophecised...


    But we were too late. The storms ravaged Iwaku, and only one of the ships, The Promise, made it off the planet. The second ship, The Torment was taken by the darkness, and the third ship, The Legacy was buried in the underground shipyard and blasted into space with a chunk of the devastated world.


    A third of the angels escaped on the Promise. A third were corrupted on the Torment. And a third perished on Iwaku.

    But there was one.... one angel who survived on the chunk of planet that would come to be known as Rift Town. His name was Lamord, and he had been buried with the Legacy for a thousand years. When he awoke, he used his powers to protect Rift Town and draw to it all others who had been cast adrift on the tides of the Rift Storms. Travellers, madmen, heroes and villains - all those who had lost their homes as he had.

    And with their help, he raised the Legacy from its grave and set about completing its destiny - to follow the path of The Promise and find the way to Sanctuary.


    With the Rift Storms on their heels, the crew of the Legacy began their voyage through the dying universe, gathering more survivors, losing more friends to countless terrors.

    In time, the Legacy came to be guided by the Lost Ones, angels of Iwaku who had perished long ago but lingered in the realms beyond time and space. They placed their disciple, Paul aboard the Legacy, who brought with him a gift - a Rift Storm in a mortal host body - a being known as Void. This creature joined with the ship and became its A.I., speeding the Legacy forward on its road to Sanctuary.

    But the Lost Ones were not the only ones watching. Two of the Legacy's security team brought dire warnings to Lamord. Daryl and Uriel had witnessed the coming of The Torment, the second ship believed to be lost. They had seen firsthand the twisted demons that now inhabited this ship and its villainous captain, the serial killer Raife. They warned the Legacy that it was now being hunted - that Raife likewise sought the location of Sanctuary and would aspire to destroy it completely and ensure the dominion of the Rift Storms.


    And so the duel of these two ships carried them across time and space. And as the months went by, more of the Legacy's crew began to feel the presence of the Promise - the holy ship that was calling to them from Sanctuary. Lamord's first lieutenant, Sozrosse came to understand her place as the disciple of Coffeecakesadist, an ancient mentor of Iwaku. With her help the Legacy drew closer to the promised realm. Jack, a young Keyblade-wielder, received a vision of Sanctuary and a sacred calling to protect a mysterious amulet that once belonged to Asmodeus, a tyrant of old Iwaku. And Aimi, a Neko-Jin angel, was given power from the angelic realm to smite the demons that sought to devour the Legacy.

    And all along these chosen few were protected by stalwart crewmen, by Sura, the ever-resourceful shapeshifting tactical officer, Alex, a schoolboy who had become a soldier, Dr Grant, the stoic medical officer, Gorn, a noble Orc chieftain, and The I.S.A.F., a band of battle-hardened mercenaries.

    Now only a handful remain, the weight of past sacrifices almost too great to bear. The Torment has finally caught the Legacy, in the skies above the ruined Iwaku, where the Gateway to Sanctuary awaits...


    Now is the final act... the final battle to decide who will enter Sanctuary and stand before the gods themselves.

    Now is the Epilogue of the last story ever told...
  2. Like a holy cross, the two ships were fused, the Legacy impaling the Torment at a right angle, the breach alive with bleeding tendrils and crimson fire. The green light of the Goddess, invoked by Amber's sacrifice, was now running like an infection over both hulls, shorting out vital systems and peeling away the metal plating.

    The two wrecks spun down through the skies of Iwaku, falling as one with the raining debris of the Rift Storms. Iwaku was being swallowed again, fire burning on every horizon, closing towards the ancient city. The two ships were plunging into the eye of the hurricaine.

    The peaks of buildings were smashed apart by the whirling ships, the old ruins of castles and high-rises demolished in an instant. And then the wreck punched through the half-remaining dome of the Iwaku Mall, striking the ground and carving a great gouge in the earth.

    The two ships carried on moving for another half-mile, ploughing through dirt and rubble, uprooting trees and sending dust-clouds in all directions. And then finally they came to a halt, laying burning in the looming shadow of Nerf Castle.

    For about an hour, nothing else moved amidst the crashsite, and at the edges of the crater the Apocritakan Shadows gathered like curious insects, gazing down through the dust and smouldering ruins. Meteors and dimensional debris smashed into the city on all sides, but around the crater there was almost a sense of hallowed calm.

    And then one of the forward windows of the Legacy shattered, a bare foot slamming through it. Atrian Des ducked out through the opening, his purple robe tattered and bloodstained. Stepping out onto the ruined hull of the ship, he gazed across the city with a sneer, before turning and reaching back through the window. He pulled out the tattooed boy, cradling him in his powerful arms. The boy's head lolled backwards, the gemstone in his forehead now pale and muddied.

    "It is time for us to leave, Void," muttered Atrian, his eyes dark and soulless, "The world shall remain forever broken... forever beautiful. We shall go where they cannot find us... where they cannot fix this great machine..."

    He started moving along the hull, the boy unconscious in his arms, trailing blood from where his limbs had ripped from the control throne. And in Atrian's other hand, he gripped Rieme's Amulet, ready to use it to carry himself and his creation far across the cosmos.

    And on the other side of the wreck, down where the Legacy and Torment had fused together, a painful cry pierced the smoke.

    Twisting and wincing, Lamord crawled from the half-crumpled cockpit of his mech, his skin being snagged and torn by the metal. He had to break through some of the support struts to get through, then press his hand through the shattered viewing glass. But at last he fell down from the cockpit, dropping onto the hot surface of the crater in a painful heap.

    He lay there for a few minutes more, his mouth locked open in a silent gasp of agony. But steadily his senses and his strength returned and he rolled over, blinking blood and sweat from his eyes as he tried to focus on the crashsite.


    He pushed himself back into motion, crawling and stumbling across the rubble towards the other mech. It had been thrown clear of the Torment like his own and was lying face-down at the crater's edge. Within the shadow of Nerf Castle and the eerie flow of the Pathway, Lamord gripped one of the machine's arms, hoisting with all of his angelic strength. Muscles strained and hands bled with the effort, till at last, with a great crash, the mech listed onto its side.


    The jedi was still inside the mech, her head slumped against the cushion, blue skin turning silvery pale in the firelight. Her eyes flickered open, barely, bloodshot but still enfused with the shimmering sense of the Force.

    "Get them home, Lamord..." she whispered, "Get them to Sanctuary..."

    Lamord's eyes glistened with tears, lowering once again with the weight of another tragedy. But then they fixed on something and widened.

    The chest-plate of Joi's mech had been torn apart, a gaping hole that still smouldered. And the edges of the breach were fused, as if by a tremendous heat. And on the blue skin of Joi's arm, three small dots of red light could just be seen.

    The hairs on the back of Lamord's neck rose.

    Joi had not been wounded by the crash...

    The angel's wings spread in an instant and he leapt back as a blast from Ithryx's shoulder-cannon almost scorched his face. The Predator was a few feet away, the outline of his camouflage distorting slightly in the heat haze of the crash site.

    Lamord dropped down behind a piece of wreckage, drawing the Sword of Casepheny and trying to ignore the pain that clouded his judgment.

    He was being hunted now.... hunted before the Gates of Heaven.

    [SUMMARY: The Legacy and Torment crash in the heart of Iwaku City, within the shadow of Nerf Castle, where the Path to Sanctuary awaits. Atrian Des carries Void from the ship, hoping to make his escape. Meanwhile, Lamord finds Joi dying from a cannon-blast from Ithryx. He soon comes under attack himself and realises he is being hunted by the Predator.]
  3. Um... Hello? May I come in?
    Whoops, I already did. Hah. Anyways.
    Hello fellow SU fans!
  4. Musical Score: From Heads Unworthy : Rise Against

    As Alex scrambled frantically away from the flames, Terrie leaped after his target, although mid leap his entire body was slammed out of the air by a black/green blur.

    from the ruins of the legacy, a bloodied figure, shredded, tattered and blacked security uniform dangling from his bruised and battered frame emerged from the burning rubble.

    Senior Sergeant Uriel Verasius held a jagged peice of metal in one hand, all of his weapons had been broken beyond repair in the crash, his other hand clenched into a fist and unclenched to the fast pounding rhythm of his heart, eldritch flames burning brightly and aggressively, wreathing the ragged survivor's hand and forearm in blackish green flames, the core of which blazed like celestial light, illuminating the rents and cuts that covered the sergeant's body, especially his face.

    "It takes more than malice and hate to stop us, and we didn't survive countless trials and torments for nothing" the necromancer-sergeant screamed, his voice cracked and hoarse yet seemingly louder and more determined than ever.

    another blast of necromantic energy consumed several of the gibbering creatures that had swarmed around the crash site to devour the dead and dying, their flesh liquefying and spilling out into the earth, dark streams heading towards Uriel and Alex, as the liquid touched their flesh it seeped into their bodies, giving both a measure of strength with which to survive this final confrontation.

    other streams of the energy drained from the malicious monsters by Uriel slithered into the wreckage, seeking out other of the Legacy's inhabitants.


    On the Torment side of the wreckage, another necromancer crawled from the wreckage, though where Uriel's injuries had seemed to give him the look of a noble warrior, the scars and wounds on Balthazar Verasius, Uriel's Older Brother made him look even more monsterous, and where Uriel looked liek he had been through hell, Balthazar burst from the twisted broken and burning pile that had once been Iwakuian ships with little more than scrapes and bruises.

    the vicious Interrogator and Lieutenant to Raife made his way across the crash site, looking for someone or something to slaughter, his mind and heart devoured by bloodlust.

  5. Jack coughed, a few specks of crimson splattering on the floor as he did so. He was slumped against a wall in navigation, his top soaked with blood around a rip. He couldn't quite remember what happened, but the evidence pointed to the fact that he had lost the fight and had got a sword to the gut.

    He groaned quietly, not having enough energy left to produce much noise. He knew this feeling, it was the feeling of dying, the slow release of life he had faced before. There wasn't anything he could do and he knew it, so he leaned back, his eyes tearing up as he closed them.

    He could feel himself slipping away but that wasn't what hurt, what hurt was that he had failed. He was supposed to stop that man, but he was too strong, and now he was going to take Void away and nothing would end. He had failed.

    Jack choked a little, embracing the black that his closed eyes gave him, until a searing white light penetrated it, forcing him to open his eyes to stare upon the now painfully bright world.

    There, in front of him, wreathed in the blinding white was Aimi. She looked absolutely perfect, she glowed, and as she spoke her words did not sound entirely real, they seemed distant, no, closer, closer than any words should be.

    "Jack... get up, yeh haven't done what yeh need to do. I'm.. I'm gonna go see mah little boy. this is... my last gift to yeh, thankyou"

    Jack had barely comprehended what the angel had said before his body gasped at the air, a white glow seemingly radiating from within him. He panted a little bit, looking back up to the dark navigation room, flickering lights doing a poor job of providing visibility.

    His hand made it's way down to where his wound had been, the shirt was still wet with blood and there was a hole in it, but the wound wasn't there, almost as though it never had been. Pushing himself to a standing position he breathed a deep breath and got his bearings.

    "No Aimi.. thankyou.."

    Outside, in the ruined Iwaku city

    Asmodeus stepped over the rubble, smiling as he gently caressed Void's head, as a child might caress a beloved toy. His smile had a hint of madness, but otherwise was serene, almost blissful.

    He stepped carefully over the rubble that covered the ground, every step calculated carefully, so as not to disturb his 'child'. There was a brief sucking noise and a small crackle of flames, this was all the warning the ancient angel got however, as the ball of flame crashed between his shoulder blades, sending him toppling forwards, and Void falling into a heap in the rubble.

    As Asmodeus got up, his serene smile cracked into a far more hideous expression. Where he had once hidden his madness it was now fully apparent as he stared as the boy, palm outstretched and smoking standing behind him. There was little emotion his his features other than a pure crazed anger, no, loathing.

    [Jack lost the fight with Asmo, and lays there dying, until Aimi arrives and heals his wound, then departing to the angelic realm. Jack then catches up to Asmo and throws a fireball at the arrogant bastards back! ^^]
  6. Slowly... very slowly, I become aware that I'm still alive.

    My breathing is heavy and laboured, but I don't sense any serious lasting damage. My slowly crack one eye-lid open, and then the other. Using my arms I push myself up into a slump, the effort leaving me shaking.

    I sit in the hanger bay of the Legacy, surrounded by the equipment of the ISAF. No sign of the mercenaries themselves, though, I note with apprehension. I'm still attempting to figure out how I'm still alive. The last thing I can remember is the tentacles erupting from the ship, bearing down upon me... and then I'm lying on my front in the hanger bay, and somehow my bullet wound has vanished.

    What happened? Why am I not dead? And where the fuck did my bullet wound get to? Not that I'm complaining about it vanishing, far from it, but gunshot injuries don't just up and vanish all of a sudden. Also, if the ship hasn't been torn apart by some fucking Cthulhu-esque monster tentacles, where is it sitting now?

    These questions aren't going to be answered here, and apart from anything else, I need to find out if any of the rest of the crew have survived. I slowly get to my feet, my head spinning, but I manage to remain upright. My head slumps to the floor in my effort to remain consious, and my eyes fall upon a handgun lying amongst the debri of the hanger. One of the thousands possessed by the ISAF, no doubt.

    A few months ago, I wouldn't have even given the weapon a second glance. A few months ago, my loyalty to the hypocratic oath would have prevented me from ever taking up arms against anyone or thing. A few months ago, the thought of killing another living being would have been repulsive to me.

    But a lot changes in a few months.

    I lean down, and take hold of the grip of the pistol, lifting the weapon up to examine it. It's stainless steel, and cold to the touch. My limited knowledge of firearms comes mostly from movies, and I remember that there's a button on the side of the weapon that should release the clip. It slides out from the bottom of the weapon, and I look down at it; I count eleven bullets in the clip, plus the one already in the weapon.

    Sliding the clip back into the weapon, I begin to climb through the debri towards the partially open hanger doors, becoming of the wind howling through it.

    Time to find out exactly where the fuck I am, and what's happened.

    Show Spoiler
    Grant is surpised to find that he's still alive and lying on the floor of the hanger of the Legacy. He tries to figure out what has happened to him whilst getting to his feet. His eyes fall upon a handgun left by the ISAF, and after deliberating he takes the weapon with him and moves towards the open hanger doors.
  7. CRATER...

    Lamord ducked down as another shower of sparks and masonry fell on his head. He was sat against a ruined wall of the old Mall, pinned down by Ithryx's shoulder cannon. The Predator was out there somewhere, in the wreckage-strewn crater, his cloaking shield keeping him concealed. And what was worse, the outline of the crater was breaking, the dark shapes of the Apocritakans closing in to pick their victims from the ruins.

    Lamord lunged, driving his hand into the dust and ashes, grabbing something and pulling it back a moment before another blast scorched his robes. He slumped back against the wall, lifting the ISAF radio to his mouth.

    "Ryker, I know you're there..." he said between gasping breaths, "I know you can't be dead yet. If you can hear me... run! Get as many as you can to the gate. Just run..."

    He dropped the radio, gritting his teeth as another wave of pain assailed his body. Then he reached between his shoulderblades, drawing the blade of Casepheny.

    "To the end, my love."

    "To the end."

    He twisted, gripping the edge of the wall and vaulting over it into open ground. The blade of Casepheny struck out, knocking Ithryx's shuriken off course, inches from Lamord's face. The angel sprinted forward, bounding from wreckage to wreckage, each piece blown apart by the cannon a second after he leapt.

    Lamord hit the ground running, and in the corner of his eye he tracked the arc of the shuriken as it circled the crater and returned towards its master. He was closing in... using the Predator's weapons against him.

    A blur of movement broke the outline of the Torment's thruster-assembly.

    "Casepheny!" yelled Lamord, tossing the sword into the air a moment before a net slammed into him and knocked him off his feet. The angel fell, the razor sharp wires closing around his body and cutting into flesh. For a moment it was agony, and then Casepheny returned, the blade tumbling back on its own volition and cutting through the net. An opening was made, and Lamord twisted out of the constraints a second before Ithryx's spear punched into the ground where his chest had been.

    Lamord rolled to his feet, catching Casepheny again and clashing her against Ithryx's wristblade. The Predator's cloak shimmered and dropped, the alien's roar deafening.


    "WHY DO YOU PERSIST?!!" screamed Atrian Des, the back of his robes and the stumps of his wings smouldering as he turned. "WHY, WHEN ALL THE WORLD HAS REJECTED YOU LIKE THE RUNT YOU ARE?!"

    The mad angel sprinted forward, forgetting he had left Void and the Amulet lying in the rubble behind him. Jack's keyblade came to his hand, the boy parrying the viscious barrage of strikes from Atrian's twin swords. The boy was driven back, his feet catching on masonry, his eyes dazzled by the sparks of the clashing blades.

    "WHY KEEP GOING, WHEN YOU ARE UNKNOWN AND UNLOVED?" yelled Atrian, even as he struck. Jack was sent reeling, loosing another fireball as he stumbled. But Atian's defending blade swept outwards, parrying the flames and dissipating them into smoke.

    "The oblivious child demands my audience?" ranted Atrian, a little quieter and more insidious as he stalked towards the boy. "How should the stage be painted when the mutes refrain to hold their tongues?"

    It felt like a prophecy... a poem from long ago... but Jack had no time to ponder it. He brought up his keyblade again as Atrian's swords came forward in a scissor-strike. The blades skimmed past Jack's ears, then Atrian turned his wrists, slashing downwards as he opened the scissors. Jack cried out as his thighs were sliced open, but the sound was cut short when Atrian's foot struck his sternum, smashing the air from his lungs and flinging him across the plaza.

    The boy collided with one of the few structures still standing in the crater... an oddly shaped pillar of stone. Jack slumped against it, his face sliding over the indents of names, millennia old. His hand flailed out, trying to get a grip on the pillar and pull himself back up. His fingers slipped into the indents of two words, larger than the others. He tried to grip, his fingertips tracking the shape of the letters.

    Admin. War.

    Something twisted inside his brain, like a shift of pressure, a pulse that choked old pathways and opened new ones. Jack twisted and put his back against the pillar, resting his head against it. His eyes flickered, odd sensations flooding in.

    He had felt these things before... months ago...

    When Moridemus had entered him... when the fragment of the Monolith had lodged inside his body.... it seemed so long ago now.

    The realisation came upon Jack as violently as any blow or sword-strike. He felt the pillar behind him, sensed it imperfections, the cut and grain of the stone. He read the names in his mind, the overwhelming records of lives lost. He felt the weak spots, the flaws in the masonry.

    It was a Monolith. He was lying against a Monolith... an object of high confluence. And with one precise strike, this whole thing would come cra...

    The thought ended as a world of pain swallowed him up. Jack snapped back to his senses, screaming as the Blade of Bowie skewered his shoulder, pinning him to the War Memorial. His muscles and bones were broken by the force, and blood gushed out from the wound. His scream grew louder, then was cut short as Atrian slammed the hilt of the Blade of Reikei into his face.


    He struck again, bloodying Jack's face. "SNIVELLING!" He struck again. "INSIGNIFICANT!" He struck again. "POWERLESS!" He struck again. "WHELP!" And with this final cry, he slammed Jack's head against the monolith.

    Jack's eyes closed to mere slits, his consciousness draining out.

    Keeping one hand on the Blade of Bowie as it impaled Jack, Atrian straightened up and readied the Blade of Reikei in the other. He took aim at Jack's neck. And again the angel muttered quietly, oblivious to the hand in the rubble behind him that twitched and turned, taking hold of the chain of Rieme's Amulet.

    "I was greater than all of you. So watch me now, Iwaku, as I outlive this Cycle of fools and errant children! AND LET THE GODS BEHOLD! I. AM. ASMODEUS!!!!!"

    He swung the blade.

    [SUMMARY: Lamord tells Ryker to get people moving to the gate, before charging into a dual with Ithryx. Meanwhile, Atrian kicks the crap out of Jack and pins him to the old War Memorial in the Mall. Jack has a vague revelation - that the War Memorial was made in the same way as the Monoliths of Moridemus, and that his previous possession by that angel has given him a sense of the Memorial's structural weaknesses. But before he can act on this, Atrian beats him to an inch of his life and prepares to decapitate him.]
  8. Out of breath, Alex thanked Ureil. The black liquid dulled the pain in his side and brought him back from the brink of uselessness. Now it was ti-

    Alex threw Uriel out of the way just as white flames burst from the ground where he had been standing. It had not taken Terrie long to recover. Geysers of blue-white flame were popping up everywhere melting metal and evaporating glass. The white haired maniac’s face was wreathed with fire and contorted in a silent scream. It seemed impossible to get a foothold before another and another jet of flame reached up to kill anyone they touched. It was all Alex and the Sergeant could do not to be cooked. The demon was destroying everything that moved regardless of allegiance. There were charred Apocritakan corpses littering the ground, but fires were still appearing everywhere adding new danger to the gauntlet. Terrie would rather see the world burn with his own fire.

    No matter how Alex tried to attack he was met with flames. Terrie was just too powerful to be lifted with telekinesis. He was too hot to be rapidly cooled and starting him on fire could only help the lunatic. Any missiles thrown were evaporated before they hit their mark. Uriel could catch hold of Terrie, but as soon as he tried the pyromancer would redouble his attack forcing him to defend. The area was a blight of melted metal. Demons of shaped fire dominated the sky. The Apocritakans had abandoned the area in fear. Fire serpents shot from wildfire to wildfire. Everything smelled of sulfur, yet Terrie’s silent laughter cut through it all. The landscape was being turned into the madman’s own private hell.

    It just couldn’t continue this way. Together the allies attacked. Black strands flew from the necromancer’s hand halting Terries attack. Before the arsonist could break free, Alex brought a tornado of shrapnel around him. The mute’s screams blazed across his face as he was cut by the razor sharp metal. He tried projecting fireballs back at the former shipmates, but Alex deflected them. Other attacks were thwarted by the man’s failing senses or Uriel’s black magic, but then all the fires went out. The area went dark and Terrie was dead. The only light came from the burning sky and the radiance of sanctuary.
    Alex and Uriel take down Terrie.
  9. Musical Score: We Burn - Sabaton

    As Terrie's body faded into the soil the air became deathly calm and silent, even the sound of the crackling fires that licked and crept through the wreckage were inaudible.
    it was as though he had lost the ability to hear, though Uriel could hear himself breathing, he could smell the sweat and blood that stained the rags that had once been his security uniform, he could even feel the filth that encrusted most of his body from crawling from the wreckage.

    but he could not hear, smell or feel the flames that still burned amongst the wreckage, that the most intense of them had burned out when Terrie had finally died, but Uriel was most peturbed, that was until his mind found something more valuable amongst the wreckage.

    Uriel screamed a denail as he ran to a pile of rubble that had been hidden behind terrie's flaing screen, though thankfully it had been untouched by the flames and the predatory monsters that still surrounded them, too cautious to attack, to ravenous to retreat.
    Uriel sunk to his knees as he pulled a limp figure from underneath a sheet of metal plating.
    He pressed his ear to the figure's chest, and found some measure of calm in the fact that she was still alive, though unconcious.

    "Did you think you could run forever, brother" the voice that Uriel instantly recognised sent a slight shiver down his spine, though it caused his body to tense up mroe than anything else.

    "Alex, Get Sura to the ISAF, to sanctuary, just get her out of here, now" the sergeant's voice was authoritive, and his meaning was clear.

    "Heroiclly sacrificing yourself, how nauseatingly noble of you" Balthazar's voice drew closer, and Uriel rose, turning as he did so to see his brother, a sinister sword clutched in one hand, emerge from the shadows
    "or is it, more to your usual form, that you think by saving them you can somehow aquit yourself of guilt, that you can make up for what you are and what you've done, is it that your still so saddened by what my lords gave you, that you still try in vain to fight what you are?" Balthazar's voice contained both mock admiration and actual loathing.

    "What they GAVE me?" Uriel's reply was a snort of indignation, but the tme for talking was over, decades of resentment, loathing and anger welled up inside both Uriel and Balthazar, and the two flung themselves at each other, Bathazar's actual sword meeting Uriel's makeshift one with a ringing metallic scream.

    Musical Score: The Only - Static X

    Uriel and Bathazar wrenched their weapons apart and flung them together again and again, neither having the patience for practiced strokes or ideas of swordplay, the sound of metal clashign again and again leaving the ears of all around ringing.

    at least, Uriel's makeshift sheet of metal gave in, though Balthazar's sword refused do be dislodged for it, Uriel seized the initative, flinging both weapons away, leaving the two to fight with just their fists.

    at this point the fight became even more brutal, Balthazar bringing his knee into uriel's side with a feral snarl, following this up with a series of hooks and backfist strikes to the face before delivering an uppercut, sending Uriel sprawling to the floor in a daze
    "you never understood" Balthazar grinned, dark fires lighting in his eyes
    "to wield true power and not be corrupted by it, one msut be strong, mercy, compassion, ideals of truth, justice, humanity, all are just the whims of the weak, the pitiful cluster at the heart of all the chaff, that is your mistake Uriel, you joined the weak" as Balthazar spoke, dark flames surrounded his body, first his torso, then they crawled out, growing more and more pwoerful as with each word spoken, as though Balthazar's monologue was a necromantic spell, until they now had reached his hands, one of which extended slowly towards Uriel, who at this point had recovered jsut enough to try to stand.

    Balthazar planted his foot into Uriel's stomach, driving the air from his lungs and pinning him to the ground
    "I had such high hopes for you Uriel, but you turned out to be just another weakling to be crushed in my rise to power, the final, pitiful obstruction in my path to glory" Uriel's body was wreathed in pain and flames, his fingers and toes seeming to age rapidly, the process moving swiftly, so that as Uriel's figers were strippted of flesh, the skin around his wrist had begun to decay.

    Uriel screamed in agony, though his now skeletal right arm gripped Balthazar's shin, causing the skin on Balthazar's leg to wither, The spell stopepd at once, and Uriel screamed a dark curse at his brother, draining life from him to heal the horrific wounds, though rather than just heal him, the words uriel screamed as he gripped Balthazar's now fleshless shin caused his wounds to transfer from himself to Balthazar, the end result leaving Balthazar a wizend, limbless torso, screaming insults and curses.
    Uriel dragged his now healed body to balthazar's sword, though he had to pause, his breath coming in short sharp bursts, his entire body felt like it was burning, his limbs as though they were still wreathed in flame.

    after a few minutes, Uriel was able to kneel, leaning against the sword for balance.

    The Necromancer-Sergeant amde his way over to his brother, who still lay writhing and cursing him.
    "It didnt have to be this way" Uriel whispered, though that only made Balthazar howl with vindictive laughter
    "Stop your fucking snivveling weakling, what do you want me to do, plead for forgiveness?" Balthazar's face contorted into a sneer of contempt
    "fuck your pathetic mercy! fuck your forgiveness! FUCK YOU!" Balthazar screamed hysterically, spit and blood flying from his lips as he screamed, Uriel raised the sword above his head, and as he fell forwards, he brought the blade sweeping down across Balthazar's neck, the severed head fixed with a glare of contempt, though the mouth twitched and moved for several seconds, as though still trying to hurl insults before finally relaxing into a grotesque open position.

    Musical Score: Fade to Black - Metallica

    Uriel released the sword and crawled away from his brother's corpse, dragging himself towards a peice of wreckage, propping himself into a sitting position, where he would have to rest until he regained the strength to walk.

    Uriel finds Sura, unconcious in the wreckage, and pulls her free, but it is at that moment that Balthazar attacks, Uriel ordering Alex to take Sura anywhere so long as he gets her away from the fighting.
    after an agonising struggle, in which Balthazar almost kills him, Uriel kills his brother.

    Uriel is now trying to regain the strength to stand and walk.
  10. "Ryker, I know you're there... I know you can't be dead yet. If you can hear me... run! Get as many as you can to the gate. Just run..."

    "Fuck runnin' lads..." Ryker sneered as the last of his remaining Rangers strapped on their suicide vests. The Rangers had whatever weapons they could salvage, bullpups, Kalashnikovs, M-60s, RPGs, and a few alien weapons. Desolator had a sawn off anti-aircraft gun with a ghetto rigged bayonet fit to the end of the barrel, courtesy of Markhor. "We ne'er run from ae challenge, do we lads?"

    "HELL NO!!!" the mercenaries shouted in reply.

    "ARE YEW MEAN?!"






    "IT'S TIME TA DIE!!!"

    (Musical Ambience:
    <object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/zeWBD7zHG8o&hl=en&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/zeWBD7zHG8o&hl=en&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>
    Blitzkrieg, Deathstars, Termination Bliss)

    The mercenaries vaulted over their cover, gunning down anything and everything that turned against them. The mercs forced their way into the thickest throng of their first enemy after they left Rift Town.

    The Apocritakans. The bugs turned toward the soldiers, charging at them. The soldiers lay into the aliens with everything they had. Bugs dropped and piled up, the soldiers advancing up the pile. A soccer ball wearing a helmet flew into the air.

    "WILSON!!! NO!!!!!" Venom screamed at the bomb laden ball as it was caught by one of the bugs. Fifteen feet of bugs were immolated by six pounds of Semtex wrapped in scrap metal and bullets, the concussion knocking a few down.

    "NAE MERCY!!!" Ryker snarled as he let his bullpup hang by its sling, bringing up a makeshift machete to bear. The blade was rectangular in shape, the hilt wrapped in cloth and medical tape. He cleaved a bug's arms off and brought it back around, bisecting it's head. Some Rangers followed suit, bringing their own machetes and axes to bear while others provided gunfire support. Desolator and Leadfoot forced themselves into the thickest lines, ripping hardened carapaces apart with mechanical force, saw blades, and laser cutters. Still, they kept coming.

    "Fuck you... FUCK YOU!!!" one of the Minigunners snarled as he threw his weapon away and slammed into a bug, forcing it back. The explosion of his suicide vest took out another mass of bugs, the mercenaries pushing forward into the throngs.

    "Where are yew, bitch queen..." Ryker mused as he ripped his machete from the face of a bug, kicking it over and finishing it off with a burst from his bullpup. He took the legs out from under another bug, taking an arm off to keep it from lashing out again. He brought his boot up, a knive popping out from the heel. The steel blade perforated the bug's dome easy enough, finishing it off.

    "Raid ain't got shit on us... We're Orkin Men from Hell..." he mused as they cleaved their way further through the bugs.


    -Disregarding Lamord's orders, Ryker and the ISAF fight their way through the bugs to kill the queen.
  11. On the Yautja homeworld, there was a saying each warrior spoke in a whispered creed. These words, alien to all others but the proud race who honored them, explained a measure of their unyielding tenacity, their controlled ferocity. Ithryx had first heard them spoken by his father, the patriarch of his clan who looked upon him with eyes any other might think were cruel and predatory. But to Ithryx, they had been filled with pride and the dreadful sense of warning meant to preserve the will to fight and live within the young creature.

    "Dtai'k-dte sa-de nav'g-kon dtain'aun bpide"

    "The fight begun will not end until the end."

    He spoke these words now to the creature he had vowed to slay...perhaps it was to regain his honor, maybe still he was trying to prove to a long dead father that his betrayal of the Yautja race did not make him weak...did not make him a failure. This creature,




    This target had proven to be the consistantly glowing beacon drawing the Predator away from the fell power of the Torment and to center himself, train his own body for the coming trials. Truly he could fight now without a hint of regret.

    Lamord's mystic blade bit into the tempered steel of Ithryx's wrist weapon with the hungered intensity of plasma. Thrusting himself back and away, Ithryx rolled across the ground with the unnatural grace of an Olympic gymnast, ending on his feet in a strafing run at Lamord's side.

    The angel proved every bit the ideal prey Ithryx had hoped he would be, shifting his weight sideways to compensate for the rush and spinning just out of range, neatly avoiding the Predator's massive outstretched arms.

    Down and over, Ithryx continued with his movement, pivoting on the rocky soil and firing a barrage of blasts to pepper the ruinous landscape with craters of cooling plasma, forcing the angel into near impossible feats of dexterity in order to avoid it.

    Ithryx had well noted Lamord's threshold of endurance, and felt he could accurately predict how far the angel could push his body before adrenaline would be the only element fueling his limbs.

    Above all, Ithryx could not afford to let the angel rest.

    Pushing forward, Ithryx launched into another assault on the angel, his limbs a litany of furious movement, synchronized muscle pumping with practiced force forcing blow after blow to be blocked by the angel and his strange blade.

    It was the end time for them all, the Rift Storms closing in from all sides as though the hungry maw of some unimaginable behemoth yawning wide to swallow them all in its bottomless gullet...and somehow he was here...doing as his race was, in the end, evolved to do.

    Was he really no different then them? Those he had betrayed, those he had left to die...was he so much his father's son that not even a cause he found he could sympathize with would move him?


    Perhaps his kind was born to be antagonists...the archetypal villain of some local legend. Hunters from beyond the stars who slaughtered without mercy, faces of featureless steel...bodies like mechanized clockwork. If fate was so powerful as to mire even an entire race, then what had he been fighting but his own nature?

    A villain was a villain...prey labeling him a monster through fear and ignorance of his culture...his kind.

    But what if it was true? Was he subtly manipulated by the powers unseen to force his hand against this angel? What had brought him to the Legacy anyways?

    The questions had no answers readily explained and only opened a larger avenue for queries of fate and the force of the unseen confluence reaching from the dying stars.

    Leaping backward, Ithryx halted his attack...ascending the ruined remnants of a tower to stare down at Lamord with no more emotion then a bird might view a worm.

    Until he removed his helmet.

    The face of the Predator could never be called beautiful. Even in his own race, the savage brutality of each feature bespoke nothing of kindness, of comfort...They were designed to inspire fear in each creature they hunted...the boogeyman of unspeakable visage meant to scar the survivors and haunt the edges of their dreams for years after.

    But it was not predatory malice which stared at Lamord, but the understanding of a comrade...if not a friend. He may not be able to change what he was, but he could level the playing field. Guns, camouflage, weaponry of amazing proportion...what were these but the blades Yautja hid behind. Perhaps they to, feared death at the hands of what they hunted.

    Either way, they had lost faith in their race...but that did not mean Ithryx had lost faith in himself. Lamord would earn his Sanctuary, even if Ithryx had to be his last hurtle.

    Throwing aside his plasma cannon, and disengaging the active camouflage, Ithryx drew the ceremonial naginata on his back and held it out above the angel as if a king sending his troops out on a long crusade.

    "We will fight as equals, holding nothing back..." Ithryx spoke with a meaningful nod, his voice garbled through the mandibles clicking around his mouth.

    "The fight begun...will not end until the end..." the Predator warned, "You cannot let yourself die until your fight is completed, so strive to overcome me...this final enemy."

    There was no more to be said.

    He leaped, bringing his blade down with the unrelenting force of a warrior cleansed of doubt. Come death or life...he had no regrets any longer.

    M-di H'dlak....No fear

    No fear indeed.

    Summary: Ithryx battles Lamord and reflects on his purpose in this battle. Casting away his armor he resolves to fight Lamord without technology...to fight as equals...and encourages Lamord to overcome him and follow the principles of the Predators...that the fight begun will not end until the end...Ithryx has no more regrets.
  12. I genuinely don't understand how anyone could ship Dewey x Pearl to begin with. Like, how. Even before Last One Out of Beach City she was obviously a huge lesbian. Also it's fuckin' mayor Dewey.

  13. [​IMG]

    On the gantry of Nerf Castle, bathed in the light of the Great Pathway, the Angel Semyaza watched all things with sickening glee.

    The ISAF had made it to the bridges - the great bridges of the city that crossed the rivers of blood around Nerf Castle. And like the sparks of their futile lives, the blasts of their suicide bombs drove back the darkness for but a second - a second before the black shapes of the Apocritakans closed in once more. Beneath Semyaza's feet, in the deeper chambers of the castle, he could feel the Queen directing her children with ravenous intent.

    A little further to the south, Semyaza could sense yet more peril. He felt Jack's screams as he was skewered to the War Memorial in the centre of the ruined mall. And a short distance away, he smelt the blood that dripped from Doctor Grant's mouth as Teagen returned him to primal torture. And then, back at the crash site, he heard Uriel's ragged breaths as he slumped against a piece of wreckage, bleeding beside his brother.

    Semyaza could feel the death... the mounting despair. It was close... the complete annihilation of hope. Behind Nerf Castle the ground was falling away, the oceans draining to leave the naked core of the planet. And around the small patch of city where the survivors struggled, curtains of fire were rising as skyscrapers, meteors and derelict spaceships tumbled from the sky.

    The detritus of all life, swirling together in the universal cataclysm. The final impacts before the dominion of the Rift Storms... a world of fire - the Hell that he and his master longed for.

    He could feel his master too... stronger than all the pain and misery, like the throbbing heart behind the deluge of blood.

    * * * * * * * * *

    In the centre of the ruined Torment, Raife reclined upon his throne, eyes half-closed as he bent the remaining parts of the ship to his will. Great tendrils and ribbons of light snaked out from the Torment, wrapping over the fragments of the Legacy, absorbing the two ships into a single grounded abomination.

    He was becoming one with all things. The Dark Gods... the hundred-fold shards of Paorou-Sama's blasphemy... they were acting through him now. One side of Raife's face was a latticework of sneering scars, his black navigator coat falling to shades of crimson. And his grey-brown hair was knitting with Paorou-Sama's black.

    "Just a little more," he whispered, his voice distorted with a hundred others, "Just a few more drops of suffering."

    Here, between the Two Ships and Nerf Castle, the final Rift Storm would be born as the survivors fell. And with that the last percentage of the known universe would be consumed... giving way to a world beyond imagining.

    * * * * * * * * *

    In the crashsite outside, the apocalypse was eclipsed by a chorus of feral yells. Rolling up from under the naginata blade, Lamord slammed his foot into Ithyrx's thigh, using it to vault up in a twisting roundhouse. The kick threw the Predator forward on his own momentum, the angel's blade slicing down the back of his shoulder and ripping open a wound. Ithryx swung, the dual-handed spear clashing against the one-handed sword. Lamord retreated, his body turned to the side, his blade spinning in arcs to defend his narrower profile.

    They battled over the smoking remains, and Lamord's feet moved as dextrously as his sword, kicking up chunks of rock and metal that shattered against the Predator's frame. But with each passing second their environment became the greater enemy. Balls of flame punched into the ground around them like burning hailstones. And great chasms were opening up in the ground, plunging the old ruins of the mall into darkness. Vaulting across a gap, Ithryx brought his blade high as the angel went airborne, the viscious exchange of blows showering sparks.

    The angel hovered over the chasm, darting beyond the range of the naginata. Then suddenly his sword left his hand, thrusting towards the Predator on its own accord. Ithryx parried, then roared as the wind was knocked from him. Lamord had shot forward on a different axis to Casepheny, landing in a crouch with his fist in Ithryx's solarplexus. The full force of his angelic strength made the Predator reel, and then he twisted and launched himself upwards again, uppercutting Ithryx in a crashing arc that brought him to the ground.

    Lamord caught Caspheny, spinning downwards again with the blade like a drill. It slammed into the ground as Ithryx rolled away, leaving his naginata. He came to his feet, lashing out with wrist blades and slicing Lamord's bicep. But the angel did not falter, flinging his blade again. Casepheny flew unerringly towards Ithryx, forcing him to knock it aside with a massive sweep of his arm. But again that left him open, and Lamord lunged in, laying into the Predator with a flurry of rocking blows. The angel's fists struck with the force of the greatest Yautja, fracturing bones in his face and ribcage. And as before, Lamord scaled his opponet, running up his body and hammering his arms into his Ithryx's collarbones. The Predator hit the ground once more, and Lamord sailed over him to land on outstretched wings and reclaim Casepheny.

    With another roar, the Predator scrambled to his feet, but did not straighten. In a stooping posture he charged across the space between them, tackling the angel and carrying him backwards. He ran with Lamord through the ruined pillars of the mall, smashing the angel through column after column of stone. Five pillars were crushed before his momentum ran out and he ended by flinging the angel through the remains of a shop window.

    Panting for breath, his mouth dripping amber blood and tooth fragments, Ithryx stepped over the shattered glass, standing at the verge of the window, his wristblades open. He looked down at Lamord, lying like a tattered bird who had smashed through a windscreen. Blood and feathers lay amongst the glass, and Lamord groaned as he lay helpless on his back.

    But still, the angel lifted his head, eyes flicking momentarily to something behind Ithryx, before focussing again on the Predator.

    "I have something..." Lamord whispered between bloody breaths, "That you never will..."

    Ithryx's senses flared and he spun, parrying the attack from the first of Lamord's allies. He barely had time to lock blades with Aimi before the Neko-Jin flew away again, making room for her companion. With a roar as deafening and primal as his own, Gorn slammed into Ithryx, crashing with him through the shop wall. The Orc's skin had turned to deepest red, his blood on fire with the rage of his kind. And his muscles had swollen, his body expanding to equal that of the Predator's. The two giants rolled and wrestled through the chambers of the mall, drenching each other in blood and rage.

    * * * * * * * * *

    "Aimi..." said Lamord as the Neko-Jin returned and lent him a hand, pulling him up from the ruined window.

    "I can't geh back," whispered Aimi sadly, her eyes the coldest blue as they lowered to the floor, "Th' Neko-Jin realms, they're lost to meh..."

    "All things are coming to an end," said Lamord, pulling her head to his chest, embracing her, "Even the heavens."

    Aimi pulled away, eyes reddening, "I jus' wanna see meh boy. Nothin' else matters."

    "He's waiting for you, in Sanctuary. You know he is..." Lamord broke off as Aimi slung his arm across her shoulder, beginning to half-carry him towards Nerf Castle.

    "Then we best be gettin' on," said Aimi resolutely, her body enfused with a mother's determination.


    "He's made his choice," interrupted Aimi again, pulling Lamord harder. They stumbled back down the slope of the crater, Lamord leaning against the smaller angel for support.

    "Joi and Wright're dead," muttered Aimi as they ran, "No sign o' John or Jack, or Daryl an' his friends."

    "HEY!" yelled a voice off to their right, "OVER HERE!!"

    Finding his strength again, Lamord pulled away from Aimi and hurried towards the sound of the voice. Stumbling over more wreckage, he slid down next to Alex, who had Sura and Uriel propped against a sheet of hull plating. Sura was unconscious, but Uriel was very much alert, his face twisted in anger.

    "I told you to get her out of here!" he hissed at Alex.

    "I never did do what I was told," replied Alex, ignoring the Necromancer and looking up at Aimi and Lamord. "There's no way through the Apocritakans. The ISAF are fighting them, but... we just can't make it."

    Aimi peered over the edge of the hull plating, to the northern bridges where the Apocritakans were swarming around the last of the ISAF. She gripped the hilt of her blade, eyes turning deepest red. "I can handle theh bugs."

    Lamord's hand clamped her shoulder, pushing her back down again. "It's suicide. We need more than swords and grenades. We need something else..."

    Slowly, the angel's head turned, looking back the way he and Aimi had come, back to the shops where Gorn and Ithryx duelled.

    "Aimi," he said, with the quiet force of resolution, "Help Uriel. Alex, keep Sura close. Get to the ISAF's position and tell them to take cover."

    Alex and Aimi exchanged looks, then frowned at Lamord. "What are you going to do?"

    "I'm going to make a hole in the Apocritakan lines. Just get to Ryker. Go! NOW!"

    And with that, Lamord pushed himself back to his feet and began running back to fight by Gorn's side.

    [SUMMARY: Ithryx almost overwhelms Lamord, but is then tackled aside by Gorn. As the Orc and the Predator fight, Lamord joins up with Aimi, Uriel, Alex and Sura. He tells them to go on ahead and warn the ISAF that something big is about to happen. After giving this cryptic order, Lamord then turns and heads back to help out Gorn.]

  14. Name: Ethan McDowell
    Age: 17
    Gender: Male
    Height: 6'1"
    Weight: 210
    Sexual Orientation- Heterosexual
    Occupation- Senior at Mecca High


    Pros: Loyal, Self-confident, Playful, Powerful, Fearless
    Cons- Arrogant, Liar, Flippant, Intolerant , Shallow


    Demon Physiology
    Ethan is only capable of tapping into the Physical Demon powers with an emphasis on Enhanced Condition, Enhanced Durability, Supernatural Condition, and can manifest a set of wings...but not elemental in nature​

    User with this ability either is or can transform into a demon, an evil spirit, fallen angel or Satanic divinity. Most commonly user retains their general form but with some additions; horns, claws, fangs and tail are common, as are wings, more fit (muscular and/or larger) body and color change (red, blue or black dominate) but there are several kinds of demons who are far less humanoid, varying from strange, surreal or even absolutely horrific.

    For practical reasons demons can be divided into three groups defined by what they are formed from:

    1. Physical Demons aren't necessarily solid matter, but they are material/energy beings with relatively defined/stable form and often at least somewhat human-like mind. Most users that aren't originally of demonic stock have this variation. Note that demons of this group aren't necessarily any weaker than those of the other groups, they are simply more "solid" in mind and body.
    2. Spiritual Demons are completely spiritual beings, and thus far less bound to the laws of physics or single form. Many of them think in ways that are only tangentially relatable to humans, and their forms are both transient and often downright surreal.
    3. Ethereal Demons are often both the most powerful and ancient demons, in some ways closer to sentient concepts than anything else. As such, relating to them in any way is likely impossible.


    Physical Demons

    Common Powers

    Following powers are among the most common ones he may have:

    Losing control, Becoming a lab rat somewhere, or being caught for what he truly is
    The top athlete at Mecca High
    Lives with his single father
    Never knew his mother


    Ethan had a bit of a sheltered upbringing. He had lost his mother during his birth, but his father was sure to share loving stories about her as he grew up. His father had chosen to homeschool him until the end of middle school, during that time, making sure that he had a strong moral background and was versed in their religion and beliefs.

    His father didn't seem to mind when at a young age, Ethan began to converse and play with his imaginary friend. His father actually encouraged and nurtured his belief in his imaginary friend, and told him that there was nothing wrong with him. It wasn't until his tenth birthday that his father revealed to him the truth about his imaginary friend. That thruth; his imaginary friend was in fact a demon that had been summoned and bonded to his soul at birth. That this demon that inhabited his body would grown stronger as he grew and that together they would amount to greatness. That he would take part in great things and would stand high above the rest, but he had to accept what he was.

    His teen years were rebellious, of course, and he and his new soulmate, whom he came to know as Ballus were both friend and rivals. They both fought for control all the time, until they came to a sort of agreement; Ethan would heed the advice of Ballus if Ballus agreed to make him stand above the rest. Ethan had always had a strong will, something that his father had said he had inherited from his mother. So, with their pact made, both demon and boy began a beneficial co-existence. Ballus would teach Ethan and Ethan would become the willing student.

    Ethan's father was very proud of his sons progress so much, he allowed Ethan to enroll in Highschool, to be around other children. This is where Ethan really took off; Getting into all sports and becoming the star, it wasn't long before he was setting new school records. On top of his athletics, his classroom aptitude made him standout as well. Going into his senior year, he had the charisma, the grades, and the reputation that any guy would kill for. He was what was considered one of the Bigs of Mecca High. He sat atop of the schools social hierarchy, a king amongst those that wished to be popular and a goal to reach for some of those that were. He was on top of his game and he knew it, and with Ballus's teachings he felt unstoppable. His senior year, however, he was planning to truly test out what Ballus had shown and taught him over the summer, to see if he could push his feats even further.

    He felt on top of the world, and with Ballus, he felt invincible, and he was curious as to just how far he could go.

  15. I finally submitted my CS for supergirl!! Yay! *falls over*
  16. This world is my home. I would hear much of this fabled land of Iwaku in my long life from my mentor.

    It would make sense for the trickster to put a sanctuary in the middle of hell, itself. Force us to learn the hard meanings of life, while walking through the Valley of Death. Suffering makes us feel, without it what would a man be? Little more than mere golems.

    I step down from my cabin room for the last time in my life. Broken talismans and jars align the ruins of the room, like relics to be found in buried remains of ancient cities like the Imperial Cities of China.

    I am the disciple of CoffeeCakeSadist. It is time for me to prove my worth to all that remains of societies. While he was aloof, I can take action.

    One important lesson he taught me, was often times when things look their bleakest, often times unorthodox ideas are needed. Sounds more like something he picked up from the Sage from the World of Blue....

    Jin slowly leaves the wreck of the space ship she has called home for the past centuries of her life. Her Gogyo powers automatically kick in. Too much supernatural is happening in one place. Thousands of stories and knowledge have crashed land right here, a land of dreams twisted into a nightmare bastradization of it's former self.

    Then from the crater came a new source of radiant light. As in the past, Sozrosse’s beautiful blue light appeared in a sea of reds and blacks. Until this point of time, she had no care for the very importance of this natural color. In many diverse cultures blue is significant in religious beliefs, brings peace, or is believed to keep the bad spirits away. The latter part was more her style.

    Jin viewed the world ahead of her. A final battle between dreamers was now occurring. It was fitting for a tale to end all things.

    The Apocritakans were now swarming in. Demonic and nightmarish in shape, they were no longer simply insect-like creatures but they were very nature of primitive fear itself. Standing roughly the size of a man, their fangs were sharpened like that of a saber toothed tiger twisted and then molded by a schizophrenic mad man.


    Some of their more evolved comrades appeared much like men. Their faces covered the mask of death, itself. More hellish beasts like the demon Nine Days.

    “Surrender, we know your every desires…” They hissed in unison, “you have come far. Why prolong the inevitable?” The demons once again hissed. Their half truths were said in all the tongues that were ever spoken on Iwaku. It was then that Jin appeared from the Heavens, like a spirit of old sent to protect the true believers. Her bright blue, basking both friend and foe. The band of demons continued their long and depressing tale of every battle in the history of humankind, as if giving a dark elegy to the dying universe around them. Everything was collapsing into a twisted sea of emptiest.

    “The Battle of Gettysburg,… Normandy… Iwaku Castle… The Semile Conflict… The Battle of Jarama…”

    Each line was then followed by how many were killed in action. They continued on and on about the ultimate in human suffering, war itself.

    However, Sozrosse remained emotionless for she had something in her hands that had been long forgotten; Isodath, the very sword of the Fallen Prince, Rory.

    There is the smell of smoke. I hear a crackling behind me of flame. They say that fire is the devil’s only friend. Well I can prove that Satan has no friend.


    Around her formed the Flames of Heaven. Even if existence itself faded away, as long as the holder of that sword believed something was true and logically possible it would form. Jin’s eyes remained closed and focused on the task before her. She had to buy them time.

    “…They mentioned the Battle of Jarama… I wonder…I am not used to being impulsive.. You know what? Screw it. I will do what I see is right.

    It was then that she began to sing these lines aloud:

    There's a valley in Spain called Jarama
    It's a place that we all know so well
    It was there that we fought against the demons…
    We saw a peaceful valley turn to hell

    From this valley they say we are going
    But don't hasten to bid us a due
    Even though we lost the battle at Jarama
    We'll set this valley free before we're through

    All this world is like this valley called Jarama
    So green and so bright and so fair
    No demons can dwell in our valley
    Nor breathe in our new freedoms air

    Her voice was gentle and fair. A sharp contrast to the funeral song that the demons were continuing on with. A wise general once said that no army could fight without the power of music. Each line became more and more of a surreal duet, as if they were trying to out do each other. With each word sung, the flames behind Jin grew larger and more defined.


    Sozrosse then opened her eyes. The fancy sword was now a pure flame of orange and reds, blending in with her long flowing red hair. Without saying another sword she swung her sword, the flames being thrown like a rock from a catapult. Flame, after flame continued to fly towards the demons. Each hit direct and focused.

    [Summary: Sozrosse finally enters the scene and uses Isodath to send the Apocritakans back to the hell they were created from.]
  17. The sound of metal on metal. That's the only noise that filled this particular hallway of the dreaded Torment. Daryl Ragnor had slipped by the rest of the fighting several minutes prior. It was only natural. Daryl had been captive on the Torment, so he knew his way around even if it was just somewhat. There was a screech as another stray monstrosity of the Torment lept from the walls at him. The Death Knight's sword cleaved the creature in two with one swing. However despite all the fighting, all the chaos going behind him, Daryl was unusually calm.

    The Knights of Iwaku battled the remnants of the insect swarm outside. His father was probably with them refusing to lose out to young men who were more than likely centuries older than he was to begin with. Angela and Jameson had fallen behind and failed to notice their friend slip away. As Daryl continued down the final corridor leading to the Torment's bridge, the creatures along the halls stood aside. They all knew what was transpiring. What this marked. The Captain of the Torment had incured the wrath of Daryl Ragnor the moment he was abducted from the very planet the ship rested on now. But as Daryl stopped only three meters from the door, he felt something didn't feel right. He could not feel all the anger, all the hate, and the desire for revenge.

    Perhaps it was the sense of closure he had by finally reaching this point? Perhaps it was never revenge at all that drove him? What if it was justice? What if he didn't care anymore? What if all of this was nothing more than something to quench his thirst for battle? All these months of running and the Legacy's crew had finally taken to the offensive and it might not have been such a stretch to say that they were winning. The motivation Daryl had for killing Raife didn't matter at the moment. All that mattered was that Raife had to die.

    The door slid open as Daryl made his final steps through the door that silently closed behind him. Daryl looked around the bridge, something that could only be seen to one looking at him only by the blue lights where his eyes would be in the pitch black helm of his armor. Finally he set his gaze forward and stared into the eyes of Raife. The Death Knight remained silent. They both knew why he was here. That's why the bridge was devoid of anyone but them. The blue lights narrowed in Daryl's helm as they simply stared at one another for several minutes. It was Daryl's voice that broke the silence with a steady, calm tone.

    "...I have to admit...for a minute there I thought you'd be surprised to see me."

    [Summary: Daryl reflects on the things going on around him and within him as he makes his final approach to the Torment's bridge alone. Finally ready to face Raife he steps through to the bridge. Neither Daryl nor Raife seem surprised that it has come down to the two of them.]
  18. It was a moment of desperation...it was a moment of trial...and in that moment so important, so crucial...Void was helpless.

    Carried by Atrian Des, his estranged creator, Void could feel the scream of the Legacy as it lost his power. He burned with the rupturing of pipes and interfaces as Rift energy began to lose its cohesive sense of control, tearing out of the Legacy in any way it could. His body died behind him and all he could do was gasp for breath on this cold wasteland of a past long gone. Jack lay crumpled against the monolith, his bleeding form only a further reminder of how important these next few moments were.

    Beyond his grasp lay the amulet of teleporation used to secure his escape so many years ago...but why? What could it possibly do for him?

    Above him, metal screamed against metal as the world fell apart. Rift Storms reached their spindly arms of fire and chaos forward, the unmakers, the destroyers...rapture incarnate.

    It was only then, staring up at the grotesque energies swirling in a delusional confusion that it became aware to Void the path he must choose. His very mind rebelled against the idea, clinging desperately to that sham of a body he now lay within...to a twisted humanity he could never be. But in order to save Jack...as he had once saved him, Void found he was capable of this sacrifice...even at the expense of his control.

    His rapidly warping right arm reached and closed over the amulet, the volatile Rift energy warping the area around him and striving to be free, to consume, to destroy.

    So he let it free.

    With a flash of discharged energy, the gems set in Void's body simply vanished, appearing in Jack's lap like a glittering sea of energy, protection against the surge that followed.

    Void sprang up, shedding his mockery of human body and expanding toward the sky. His body was a roiling mass of energy and at once he was 'aware' of everything. He could feel everyone, see everyone, and know exactly what they were thinking...what hopes and dreams tugged at their hearts. He was everywhere and nowhere...a god of death and despair...everything he had reviled was in turn forced upon him.

    So be it.

    Atrian Des...that angel who sought to control the world unraveling around him...who had struck Jack...who now stood in Void's way.

    He would become the first victim.

    With a roar of energy, Void soared skyward...angling himself over Atrian as to feel the wrath of his ascent into the silence of space...to see with eyes unclouded what his science had wrought...and what he'd tried to contain.

    Void was free

    Apocalypse Now.

    End...so this was death...

    Ithryx fell heavily upon the cracked ground of old Iwaku, his sharp eyesight dimmer now as his life seeped away from him through a rift in his chest. Gorn lay dead or dying not far from him, the Yautja's naginata in his chest...a last act of desperation by a defeated monster and once more, the end had come for him.

    With darkness closing on his vision, Ithryx managed to drag himself a ways from the fight itself, his blood leaving a blazing trail of lime green for anyone to follow. Although threats now were meaningless...he couldn't hurt anyone any longer.

    Of course it was to end with his defeat...the universe had chosen his soul to be pitted against their idea of justice and no matter how dark shadows were...even the hint of light could banish such phantoms entirely.

    Coughing now, his blood staining his chest and almost everything else, Ithryx let his mind begin to drift...memories playing out to his glazed eyes like the flicker of transmission...on and off through the uncountable distance of space. Had he the ability to, he would have smiled.

    To die...here...at the hands of so noble an enemy...what honor he had lost would surely be regained here...he could die knowing he had renewed his pact in the Yautja clan, honored his gods, and honored his father.

    Even so...there was something left to do.

    He felt the angel's presence even before he saw him. For a moment, that old instinct to fight and win ebbed into Ithryx's subconscious...but the creature knew he was sorely beaten and thus had no more claims to the life of the angel.

    His hands moved with a memory of their own, engaging the self destruct device on his wrist before loosening it and handing it to Lamord.

    "Five...minutes..." He groaned through a choking wave of bile and blood..."Do as...you...must do...Yeyinde."

    Yeyinde...brave one...it was the highest honor Ithryx could have bestowed on this strange creature once prey, then friend, then prey once more...finally hope...his name was hope.

    But Yeyinde would have to do.

    Already Ithryx was falling to an abyss of shadows and tranquility...claimed by the overwhelming certainty of death...the release of pain...the surrender of spirit.

    This battle would be championed by the heroes fate had chosen...his part was played...he could only hope his minor contribution would prove useful to the captain...

    And then he was gone...

    Yeyinde Indeed.
  19. Naw, I just write 1st because of Stephanie Brown's internal monologue!
  20. Adam featuring Daisuke

    Interacting with Otto and Deanta

    Adam rolled his eyes at Deanta as he explained Otto's reasoning for coming here. He still hated people telling him what to do, it was then that Adam decided he didnt like him. "Whatever? You know damn well I don't have anywhere better to go. I'm just saying it would have been nice if we were shared that info before we were attacked." Adam looked around and noticed Otto didn't even react to his statement. Adam kept quiet but was talking to Daisuke in his head.

    "This is bullshit Daisuke. Wasn't it just last night when we had a heart to heart now he won't even fuckin look at me?" Daisuke spoke up. "Let it go Adam. Otto has alot of stuff on his mind he probably can't process your opinion right now."

    "Whatever." Adam said outloud as Deanta told him to leave all the explosives. "If you want us to be caught off guard again that's on you." Adam placed the explosives on the table and glared at Deanta. He watched as everyone else got ready, listening to this stranger without even discussing anything. Adam was getting irritated at everyone, how could they just blindly follow this guy?
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