VAULT WAR - The Hall of Fame

"GeekOut? That's a peculiar name." He was no one to talk though. Being named Excesmyr wasn't normal at all. Which presented an idea. Why was he named Excesmyr? He knew that his name was that, but who named him that and who raised him. It was all just a faded memory. The harder he tried the blurrier the memory got. He gave up eventually.

"So how goes your conquest? It seems like some select few are advancing quite quickly"
 
"...If the spires are overloading, then we'll simply have to construct more..."

Jonathan was holding a tablet in his hand which he looked up from only to find that he was no longer in the same room that he once was.

"...well...this is wierd..."


Jonathan scanned the area a bit, noticing right away that he was not alone. He had no idea why he had suddenly jumped from his world to this current one, and found himself in a strange perdicament. Were the others around him allies...or foes...? He knew not, and all along he had found out recently that there were others roaming the worlds around him, but this was first that he had ever witnessed them with his own eyes. Rather than leave straight away, he decided to simply stick around, though he wasn't sure how to confront those in the room.
 
Whispers echoed though the hall, bouncing of the walls to reach RedWinter's ears. From behind an aged statue she hid in the shadow, listening to all. 'An alliance? What an interesting idea...' Never had Red been with a partner or ally, it all seemed foreign to her. To have to watch someones back while they covered yours. Always has she wandered alone, lost in all madness and confusion. But what were they facing truly? The others called it a 'war' but she saw only an adventure. She was enjoying herself conquering worlds unlike that she had ever seen. But if others saw it as a great battle, the she should better watch her back. And an ally to help her keep it intact... It was an idea she was willing to ponder.

RedWinter began to take note of the scores written on the walls, and now and again they would change. It was war. They were all competing, but for what? Red knew of the great power that came from taking a new world. The thrill she felt when its power became hers was invigorating, and inspiring. Inspiring to do it again and again. It was fast becoming an adittion. Was that what they were fighting for? The thrill of the power? 'It is something worth fighting for...' Perhaps Red would fight in this war after all. Maybe even ally herself.

At last she stepped away from the shadows, to see the faces of those who spoke. Quite a few had gathered here, all for reasons of their own, but all involving forwarding their own agenda. Red knew none of those there, she had heard about their names, but could not connect them to faces. 'Who would make a worthy ally?' Red tried to deduct. Some already appeared to be in the makings of alliances, while a few had yet to open their mouths. Being a bit distracted, Red nearly slipped on a glop of colorful goo that was now painting her plain black boots. 'How odd...' She looked around the room for the culprit, and found it to be a pale young woman. She had not spoken yet, and no other had taken her attention. 'Perhaps a willing ally?' Red began to walk towards her, making sure to avoid the rainbow splotches.
 
Faulkner turned to face the ethereal figure that had addressed him, frowning as he looked down at the offered hand--gauntlet--then back up at it's owner. A ghost, he thought; perhaps this guy should be looking to join in that alliance of 'the dead and the demonic'. But he didn't really seem creepy enough to be fitting in there, either, did he?

At least he seemed friendly enough. And what's more, he actually seemed to know something. So Faulkner attempted to smile--a tense tug of one corner of his mouth, that didn't really succeed in seeming friendly--and finally took the solid gauntlet and shook it.

"Name's Faulkner," he replied, looking around them at the growing number of people entering the Hall. "So you actually know something about this place, what's going on here?" If this guy could give him a few answers, maybe he could figure out what he should be trying to accomplish.
 
Looking out, another few reached in their ways of contact. Inkling was left alone once more. A strange depressing feeling washed over her. What was this? Sure, the woman had no recollection of her memories but was this really how she was before? Power hungry? Anti-social? It all seemed wrong. The heavy pulse of hunger for her memories resurfaced. Who was she? What was she? How was she? A sharp pain coursed through her head as though forcing her to stop looking and asking. Inkling let it go this time but she was determined on this adventure to find out who were the real enemies and who she was.

Seeing the woman almost slip from her physical analysis on everyone, the woman snickered. The colorful glop had attacked leaving her to busy from the serious exterior. Inkling wasn't the serious type, not in the slightest. The colors of hair marbled keeping the locks forever changing. A crooked smiled melted across her face while the steps closed in on the mysterious woman to meet half way. "Better watch out... The ink loves to stain. It has a mind of its own." Hysterical laughter escaped, giving no reason to even what was so bloody funny. Eyes softened as the tone became friendly. "What can I do you for?" Maybe an alliance was all she was really looking for. Friendship wasn't much but it was something. War wasn't her expertise, at least that's how it started to feel.

((It's not much but I am doomed to use my stupid phone again.))
 
"Hey does anyone have change for a twenty?" Effort had found a vending machine back down one of the halls, but now it seemed the hallway had changed. He had come down this way because he heard voices and hoped one of them might have some change. But when he looked up from his wallet he realized they probably didn't. "Whoaholygod" the trio of demon/undead dudes had caught him off guard, and made him almost trip over some colorful goo stuff. He followed the trail and saw it lead to a chick who was made up of all kinds of colors and some one else who had some colorfulness on her boot, probably going to talk to her about it. Looking around again he saw even more people, some sulking by themselves, watching like the reject kids at lunch time thinking about starting conversations. He took step and remembered the gunk on his boot, grimacing at it he found an edge and tried scraping his boot against it until the stuff came off.
 
"Conquest? Is that what they-" She waved tentacles in the direction of other beings in the hall. "-are doing?" So far, she had only wanted to heal the agonized realms she had fallen into. It did make sense, in that terrible way, that war would break out. GeekOut thought for a moment, her head tilted. "I don't really know how to answer your question. Well, I suppose?" She let her limbs sway rhythmically as she watched him. "And your conquering of words? How is that going?"
 
As her attention faded from the woman like an ADHD child, her eyes flashed to another who decided to step in. Another smile swept to her face, seeing her color splotches continued to spread. The ink had already started to seep through the man's shoes by the time he attended to the mess. Her hand waved in the air to get his attention. "Oi~!!! The ink stains!" Another bit of giggly out pulses escaped her. It wasn't her fault. So odd reason she easily smiled and laughed though, hardly impressed. Maybe Inkling had just the case of easily entertained then bothered to another thing. Attention span of a ferret, that's it. Her eyes reverted to the female before her.
 

It came as a snowglobe tipped... as a desert shaken. Perhaps it was ash or stardust that whirled across the Hall towards him. Or perhaps he simply imagined it.

Whatever the case... Asmodeus turned with a shiver to regard Jonathan Sasaki.

"It is him..." the demon whispered, enough so Chronos and ThE_DeAd could note. "The Hall speaks his name... as the most powerful in the Vault War..."

What apprehension could be sensed, in the echoes of the demon's helm, were wholly incongruent with the sight before them. At the other end of the Hall stood an Asian boy in school uniform, holding a data tablet and looking unsure of his surroundings. Sasaki did not fit the image of a planar conqueror, any more than the bumbling Effort, who was known as the second most powerful among the worlds.

From this it was understood, at least to Asmodeus's conception, that Iwaku favoured not the warlords and creatures of fantasy, but rather the awkward hero. This was its zenith, this its epitome. For what did the epic tales of blood and magic matter when there were archetypes of such pathos as these?

He spat upon the floor, his disgust like a dark shiver through his feathers. He would stand with Chronos before either of those fools.

"I hope your blood will scrape as easily from my boots, Effort."

The threat was neither shouted nor murmured... but the words found the man, clear enough. There was no mistaking them. And... stranger still... Asmodeus kept his eyes on Sasaki as he spoke them.
 
It was not there, then he was there. She stood in the room, the twin holes punched in the mask flaring with white hot. The robes rustled, but only in vision, for they flowed into and out of their folds like silk, drawing the eye restively towards the undulated patterns and chaos. The mask swiveled around as he took stock of his surroundings. It moved forward to survey the rest of the folk, and observed the exchange between the others already present.

[ Where is this place? ] The words were spoken, yet not spoken. They were more felt, the listeners feeling as if the words had entered their brain, yet had no memory of them actually being spoken.

The mask rotated until it was upside down, and in this position it looked like a face crowned ring of thorns. She moved forward, towards the giant goat man.
 
Chronos followed Asmodeus's gaze, where was this being the one known as the vault's most powerful. Still following his gaze Chronos's eyes fell upon him, it was....a child? A child stood between him and absolute power? Chronos refused to accept this, the rage within him began to stir once again his eyes glowing a vibrant red. A ghastly fog began to creep from his body more putrid then the darkest pits of hell "Do lose track of who the real target is Amsodeus, if we are to ensure our position we must first dethron this so called strongest. Only then should we take our time removing these insects from our realm." He shifted his gaze back to the demon, "I refuse to acknowledge these weaklings supperior to me in any way." With that his form began to disolve as he faded back into the abyss as he did another figure had begun its' approach towards Asmodeus, this intrigued chronos but he had wasted enough time here. If he were cement his position in the vault he would have to do so now before Jonathon could make his next move.
 
Paorou-sama closed his eyes, another rule of this universe now understood, he willed himself into a place-moment outside time and space.


iwaku_dark_reign__the_mad_king_paorou_by_paorou-d4vdh3l.jpg


A man in crimson colored cape appeared in the room, his shroud billowing in imaginary wind. His face was shadowed, and due to the unreal contrast of light, seemed like it was flat and featureless.

"Hello, friends."

The figure looked around the room, seeing the grotesque visage of the angel he knew all too well.

"Ah, of course. You, of all people, would not skip out on such a grand game. It's good to see a familiar face."

A smirk grew on his face, erasing at once the shadow, and revealing his surprisingly generic facial features.

"Asmodeus."

Paorou-sama turned away, and read the writings, the imagery on the countless walls. He was surprised with what he saw.

"Ah, how capricious the Cycle is - I see so many names of people who have become much stronger than I could ever imagine. Some of them familiar, some of them... strange."

He turned to everyone else, laughing loudly.

"Superb! Now this is what I call a challenge! For the cosmos to be painted in my image, only the greatest struggle, the bloodiest battle would suffice. To all whom I have not had the pleasure of meeting before, I now recognize your existence."

He chuckled quietly, continuing to read the records in his own corner of the room.
 
This stuff was more resilient than the stickiest of dog shits, ever. He was about to start looking around for a stick to pick at it with when a voice, calling out caught his attention. He looked around and when he saw her she explained that the stuff stained, and then did some giggling. His eyebrows knitted together as he tried to figure out if she was on drugs or...or what. "Well how do I get it off?" he called back and as he waited for a reply he heard the familiar sound of spit hitting concrete. He turned around to face where the sound had come from, and tried not to grimace, he couldn't be sure but that sounded like some kind of threat.

Opening his mouth to respond, a thought came to him
"Can you even wear boots?" It looked like he had goats feet, or like tiny legs or something, it was hard to tell but he was fairly sure that he couldn't wear boots. Unless they were little boots to go on his second pair of littler feet. Then some one else showed up, speaking directly into their minds, he wasn't going to assume they were just speaking to him.

Feeling around with his mind his attention was directed toward what looked like a floating mask.
[ It's The Vault Meet And Greet party, I wouldn't have come if I had known there wasn't any food] he thought back and sat himself down on a broken chunk of rock, staring down at his stained boot. This place didn't seem to ever be still for long, another dude showed up in a flashy wave of cape and non-face. He seemed friendly enough, at least he wasn't spitting all over the place or being smelly.
 
RedWinter found herself partly amused by the colorful girl. She was a far cry from Red. Colorful and vibrant, while Red had always been dark. The most color she had painted herself had been crimson. It was thrilling to be covered in blood from head to toe, this she remembered. She may have not remembered a time when she had been, but she knew the feeling.

Another man, one she could feel great power emitting from, had also meet her fate of colored boots. A response to the girls giggles and jokes came to mind, but Red found it difficult to speak. Her lips had not parted in a long time, she had not spoken since the Crash. Did she even know how to? Red tried, but nothing came out. She cleared her throat and tried again, this time she was able to speak, "Very colorful." That was the best she could do for now. It was hard to speak with a forgotten tong, and even harder to speak though a mask. RedWinter hadn't taken it off yet, and wasn't about to. She had forgotten what she looked like, and she wasn't about to let strangers she her face before she did. 'Why do I wear this mask?' Red had forgotten herself, only vague memories came through.

Before she could attempt to speak again she was interrupted by a loud visitor. He said much without having anything to say. He did not interest Red. No not like the man that the winged devil spat at. 'Powerful eh?' Had she always been so power hungry? Red finished her walk to the colored girl, her boot now completely covered in rainbow puke. "Do you have a colorful past as well?" RedWinter pried.
 
The mask rotated another ninety degrees, then snapped back to the position where the thorns were pointed down, like a row of overgrown fangs. An animal with such a jaw surely would have been a monster, a man-devouring beast, a fang for every horror it visited upon those unlucky enough to meet it. But that was only an interpretation in this case. The 'neck' behind the mask elongated and it extended until it was face to face with Effort, the rest of the robes billowing behind in slow motion to catch up.

[What is the Vault?]
 
The power that built in the room, as well as the darkness, was overwhelming. They seemed to congeal the air into a mass that was hard for Aqua to breathe. She looked with desperation on her eyes for any source of light that would let her be. Her eyes softened on GeekOut. The indecision that had once gripped her petite form faded as she approached the tentacle-bearing woman. It was in this moment that an odd sensation gripped her. Something was beginning to pull her back home. Lights danced around as her necklace and hair stood up. The closer she approached GeekOut, the more she faded. In her parting moments, a breath of words danced on the stagnant air like tulips unfurling from barren ice.

"Though my words are not much, I wish you well in healing these ailing lands." Aqua faded out of the Hall.
 
The girl faded back to where ever it was that she had come from. GeekOut smiled, feeling a glow of energy spreading through her form. "Words are everything."
 
Shaking the other's hand and immediately letting the gauntlet fold into the ether he gave a smile back, though it was a little less awkward than the smile he had been offered. "Well.." He hesitated, afraid to say something that might turn this potential ally away "I can't say I know much of the present, what is happening here, why we are stuck in the vault like this. But I remember the myths, the histories, the things Iwaku remembered."


As Asmodeus addressed Effort in a less than friendly way Porg grimaced. "That man in the helmet, he is Asmodeus. The Cruelest of the three princes, I always seem to end up in the vicinity of that man." He took a moment to look at his transparent. "I may not have been completely honest when I said only one of us featured in the history books. You see I also played a role from time to time, though myths seem to forget my name." He looked back up and gave a slightly nervous smile to the other man.


It was then that Paorou made his loud entrance, a momentary distraction for the entire room. "And that…" Porg continued, after a small shocked pause "Is the Mad King Paorou-Sama. how funny that he and Asmodeus are not the strongest here… makes a change." He turned to look at the man in red, though kept talking to Faulkner. "I once took a great artifact from that man.. though honestly I cannot remember the details.. I'm sorry I can't be more useful to you Faulkner, but I don't think much of what I remember will be very lucrative."


Porg took a few steps forward, braving the room a second. "So we've got Asmodeus and Paorou, so do we think Rory will turn up for the full set of 4? Or will he leave us wanting as the Myths so often mention him doing?"
 
Whoa, somebody likes being close. [ Not one hundred percent on how to explain, but the way I see it it's one of the lower levels of the Iwakuverse where a bunch of unoccupied worlds are floating around] He shrugged at the masked shroudy-mass. "That pretty much sums it up for me" He leaned back on his on concrete seat and patted his pockets until he found the pack of fruit snacks he was looking for. Peeling the thing open he started tossing the fruity little snacks into his mouth. He still needed some one to break that twenty....
 
Listening to the woman before her, Inklings eyes looked back over to the man who stepped in her tracks. "Just one moment..." She whispered lightly to quickly answer the man. "It'll disappear after its completely dyed what ever its on. In this case... You're shoes." She gave a friendly smile in hope he wasn't too angered. Wait... She cared? "Sorry, Hun!" Another strange thing coming from her; calling someone Hun. Was that normal for the woman too? The multicolored locks shook frantically trying to take back her mind then concentrate on the individual before her. Hopes of the man joining them arose but wasn't so sure it'd happen.

The woman continued on. "Colorful past?" Inkling's hyper and over the top emotions faded almost instantly, sending her head to fall forward. "Maybe? I'm not so sure about my past... I woke up in a strange place and now I venture around in hope to find a piece of me; many in fact." The body straightened and focused back on the face. "The names Inkling, by the way."