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+---- Thread: Day 3 Evening (/showthread.php?tid=3855)
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Day 3 Evening - The Spirit - 02-19-2016
"Congratulations heroes! You're quest is almost complete. I see one of you have two relics. Keep on going heroes! Beware there is a storm approaching the temple! I suggest you run heroes!"
Quote: A storm will appear in the next phase from all locations in row H and left.
Re: Day 3 Evening - Ada Wong - 02-19-2016
The pull persisted. Fetters of strange mystical energies towed him forwards, the demon leaning into every gentle tug. Grassland passed him by, trailing swipes of golden grass whipping at his legs with all the ferocity of a cat o' nine tails. And yet, Crowley was never dissuaded from his path, not even once.
That is, until the feeling grew stronger, a metaphysical vortex threatening to swallow him whole. It flared upwards into a dizzying, swirling cascade of density that befuddled his limbs and caused him to stumble. It was like standing beside the Throne, like picking daises in the Garden, like whirling through sunset-misted clouds of cotton candy pink and robin’s egg blue, the wind sifting its cool fingers through his feathers.
Like being near to heaven again.
Crowley sighed, blissfully gazing around at his surroundings. Animal-shaped clouds drifted across the sunny skies, fading as the evening gloom began to settle in. He even paused to take a brief whiff of a flower, the rosy pink bloom tickling the tip of his nose and sending a giggle rippling across his sharp-dressed shoulders.
Bzzzrnque? Are you high?
“No,” Crowley replied, the picture of confidence as he pointed an aristocratic finger knowledgably to the sun, as if to stir it into a yolky, sunflower-colored residue across the clouds. “No I am not.”
But it wasn’t long before this dream-like state faded, the fog subduing his consciousness clearing and drawing him back to reality with a cold snap. In a short sequence of lurching, winding steps, Crowley was hunched over beside a prickly-thorned bush and heaving the contents of his stomach onto the grass.
Ah, yes. Nature. Lovely.
Dragging a hand across his mouth as he stood on wobbly legs, Crowley visibly cringed at the regurgitated remains of the berries he had eaten several hazy hours before. Perhaps it would have been best to stick to scarfing down cute little feathered things.
The demon looked blearily at his gun, which let loose a string of incomprehensible bleats and whistles that sounded vaguely like a Freddie Mercury tune. In a fit of enraged hissing combated by a passionate rendition of Weeeeeee— are the champions— my friends….- Crowley was able to shake the gun around until it finally quit.
Unfortunately, around this time he was no longer alone. As he glanced up, his slick hair and clothing in evident disarray, he was greeted by the sight of wizard guy, Keebler Elf, and….. well, he didn’t know the white armored guy all that well, but he had an icy demeanor about him that simply screamed bad-ass.
“Hey there!” Crowley greeted, the tattered remnants of his tie swaying with every step he took on his approach. The gun swung about haphazardly in his grip, though it likely wouldn’t fire unless it wanted to. Such is the way of sentient weapons.
And, speaking of sentience;
And weeeeeee’ll keep on fightiiiin’— ‘til the eeeend! “Ssssh.”
nNO TIME FOR LOSERS— because weee are the— “What did I just say?”
Finally, Crowley just gave up, having resigned himself to a continued chorus running behind his speech along with the broken staccato of a dub bassline. He smiled congenially at the trio of almost-strangers, only a brief nervous twitch skittering along the edges of his mouth and right eyelid.
Not that they could notice the eyelid thing. Sunglasses are a gift.
“Erm. Sorry,” his eyes sheepishly wandered to the expanse of land behind him, and this was around the time that it occurred to Crowley that the odd, ethereal sensation was no longer pulling at him from the front, ceaselessly tugging at his jacket lapels and general sense of balance. No, it was calling to him from behind. Towards the sea. “Hmmm.”
Crowley’s gaze flitted back to the trio of— clearly well-seasoned— warriors. Although they might not be the most affable bunch, it had been a rather long time since Crowley had been among heaven’s spick and span armies. Hell didn’t support that kind of thing, military drafts and the like. Not unless it suited them. Anyways, he supposed having them on his side wouldn’t be so terrible, because whatever he had sensed earlier was possibly a guardian of some kind, and, if not, something still rather special.
His gun ceased howling the Best of Queen, as if it sensed the importance of the words he was going to say next. Feeling oddly delighted by this, similar to how a proud parent is of a particularly gifted child, the serpent gave its barrel a light, fond pat.
“There’s something this way if you lot want to go have a look. I'm fairly sure it's one of those relics Teucer's on about." Crowley said good-naturedly, jerking his head to indicate the waving fields of grass behind him.
Re: Day 3 Evening - Belle - 02-19-2016
The cold air of Chicago was brisk against her skin as she bounded down the few steps from her front door. Pausing to open the waist high swing gate, Belle zipped up her hoodie and tightened her gloves, pulling her hood over her head. She ran, down the street, up the avenue, trudging through the half-melted slush of the almost-but-not-quite spring of the windy city.
Kids chased her as she passed. It was a ritual, a game they played, the rules of which were never explicitly laid out, but whose goal was understood: if they caught her, she had to buy them candy.
She didn't let them catch her this time. She was at the end of her conditioning, the fight was in just a week. Her stomach twisted in knots from hunger, she still outran them easily, their eager footfalls fading into the distance.
She kept on going, through the twisting maze of the concrete jungle. People called out to her, cheering her name. She waved. A couple years ago, she would have stopped to indulge in the worship. But today she kept going.
Just one week.
She reached the steps of the courthouse and vaulted up two at a time. Her body was coated in sweat as she reached the top, her parched lips cracking in the cold. She turned back to watch the dawn break over the tangled web of aging buildings, monuments to a better time. Chicago was a small stage, but it was her's. She would do them proud.
~+~+~+~
The glove smashed into her face. She felt something crack, blood spurting out her nose and down her lips. Her opponent had put himself between her and the ref - he couldn't see what was happening as another hook sailed.
Belle jerked her head back, missing the glove, only for the arm to curl harder, catching her in the side of the head with an elbow. Her eyes went white. She felt the ropes against her back, her tired arms swinging over to keep her from falling. More blood, running down the side, down her neck. So foggy ...
The ref was yelling. The dark figure of her opponent had receded, replaced by a talking mouse in white and black stripes.
"Are you okay to go?" the mouseman demanded.
This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. Wasn't the hero supposed to win? She could hear them all around her, the voices chanting her name, willing her to go on. But could she? Her legs were trembling.
Again, the mouse. "Are you okay?
"Belle."
Belle snapped back, her head thudding against the tree she was resting against, sending vicious stabs of pain through the reopened wound in her head. Protoman's scarf was stained dirty brown with dried blood.
"I can keep going," she whispered. "They need the belt."
"...What?"
Her eyes focused. Slowly, she fumbled towards realization. The island. Right. "I'm fine," she mumbled.
The mouse seemed unconvinced. "I'm sure you are," he said. "But just in case, we're going to wait a bit before we move, okay?" He offered a sad smile. "We really need to get you a helmet."
She tried to smile. Instead, all that came out was a grimace. It was easy to forget how many muscles were part of that until some of them were swollen.
"Well, we'll get you something," Mickey promised. "Maybe ... Maybe something in the survival guide will help."
"Mickey," Belle said, her words feeling a thousand miles away in her mouth. "That's not a survival guide. It's pornography. Porn. Smut. Boobies. Hoohas."
Mickey's eyes widened. "Oh no," he whispered. With a solemn expression, he put a hand on her shoulder. "It's worse than I thought. Don't worry, Belle, I'll make sure you get through this!"
"Vaginas, Mickey," she slurred. It seemed very important that she got this point across.
"Blues?" Mickey called. "I think she's starting to speak in tongues."
Re: Day 3 Evening - Kopaka - 02-19-2016
Quote:Before the Easter Egg...
Eventually, a single ray of sun shone onto Kopaka's gleaming hull, causing the butterflies that had been resting on him to stretch their wings on the motionless Toa. They took off in a glimmering blue cloud as, finally, Kopaka's biological components came out of hibernation. His arm twitched slightly, and his servos groaned in protest as he pushed himself upright in the mud. The front of his body was filthy, as dark muck and forest detritus clung to his lethargic frame. As his organic brain reconnected to his cybernetic processors, Kopaka slowly ran a hand over the dome of the Kanohi Akaku. There came a strange, rasping noise as he rubbed the mud away from his face. There was another strange rough patch, and upon removing his mask, it was revealed to be dark, mottled corrosion. It was odd. Kanohi weren't supposed to tarnish or oxidize. Did it have something to do with the Warlock's magic? No...the other rusted spot on his mask had shown up after the Camelot Tournament. Did it have something to do with the Omniverse? Perhaps.
Kopaka let out a long, whirring sigh, putting the Kanohi against the trunk of a nearby tree. Still no sign of Link or Magus, but that didn't mean he couldn't find something to eat. He was too slow to catch any live prey at the moment; his sustenance would have to be from foraging. Of course...there were always the provisions on his back, but their healing powers were too precious to use on mere feeding alone. So, Kopaka set about collecting hanging flowers, roots, berries, and even the occasional snail. Indeed, many invertebrate rahi had come crawling out of the ground after the rain, and with some digging, Kopaka was able to obtain several fistfuls of wiggling, pink worms. Their lumbricoid forms vanished quickly into his nutrient processing chute, and it was as his internal systems blended and shredded them, that Kopaka heard another message from the great and mighty Teucer. With a growl, he turned towards the direction of the temple, quite visible as it towered above the tree line, and began to make his way towards the beckoning. Perhaps the first time such a challenge had been issued, it was wise to pass up the bait. But the Toa was not interested in whatever new device the spirit had summoned; other Primes would be flocking to the area. Hopefully, armed Primes. Kopaka slapped his Kanohi back onto his metallic face and began striding off through the brush at a brisk clip...
Quote:After the Easter Egg
Another mad dash through the jungle. Another skirmish with Mickey and his obnoxious allies. The Toa was beginning to sense a pattern here, and he didn't very much like it. Granted, there had been other factors that Kopaka and Link had had to deal with at the time, but that...strange, hybrid Kaita of Mouse and Machine had proven to be overwhelmingly formidable. On top of that, Kopaka vaguely remembered seeing the combined form of those two Primes somewhere else, but couldn't quite place it at the moment. It would have to be investigated once he returned to the Omniverse proper.
For now, the mission had been a success. Perhaps it was not a dedicated weapon, or a particularly graceful implement, but it was made of metal and wasn't a part of Kopaka's body. Perhaps once the Toa had slain some more Primes with this iron rod, then he could choose to be picky. For now, the Toa simply had to make his way back to where he had originated. It was almost as if his feet had a mind of their own. The path through the jungle was intuitive, and in a seemingly absurdly short amount of time, the Toa found himself running through familiar terrain. On top of that, Kopaka momentarily caught a flash of blue between the trees. Any pretense of stealth was lost on the fact that he hadn't noticed the figure before he had stopped running, so Kopaka once again burst from the underbrush in front of Magus' path. It wasn't a moment later before Link also came crunching through the damp foliage. Kopaka squinted his robotic eye. He couldn't deny the fact that they had all found each other was rather helpful, but it felt hideously serendipitous. Like they had all been guided by an unseen hand to regroup.
Kopaka did not appreciate being used as a puppet.
Link was the first one to break the silence.
"Well...sorry we didn't get the...uh..." the Hylian twisted his hand around in the air, searching for the foreign word that Teucer had used. "...the item." Kopaka shrugged; a decision he immediately regretted, as a piercing pain shot through his left shoulder. The firearm had punched quite easily through Kopaka's outer plating, so much so that it had hewn a path straight through his flesh and out the other side. The arm wasn't completely debilitated, but he would have to make sure to avoid putting any strain on it in fights. Frankly, Link had gotten off far worse, and though the boy acted strong, his hunched posture and broken breaths indicated the pain that the lacerations were causing him. Kopaka's mind drifted momentarily to the foodstuffs strapped to his back, but shook his head. No. Now was not the time.
"I got what I needed. It wasn't a total loss." Kopaka said, with a slightly strained tone. It wasn't normally his desire to try and console teammates, but in this instance, Link had definitely put himself on the line for Magus and Kopaka, two people that he had only just met. It was only good form to display at least a fragment of amicability. Or...perhaps it was just that Kopaka was getting tired.
As the days had gone on, the Toa could feel his normally staunch, icy demeanor gradually melting away to reveal the more vulnerable, and if he might say so, petulant side of his personality. He could detect it in Magus as well; when the wizard had demolished the tree to get past the ravine, the look on the warrior's face told quite a bit about the frustration growing inside of him. It was only justifiable. Out of the three of them, he was the one who had gained the least in his entire time on the island. Perhaps it was time to show some deference to their leader's decisions.
"Magus."
The wizard glanced over at Kopaka, his arms crossed tightly over his bare chest. No actual words were required from the man.
"We should endeavor to secure more relics. It appears that they are more than mere trinkets; some of them hold great power." Kopaka said, shifting his posture slightly. With a nod, Magus turned on his heel and began marching off into the jungle. With nothing to say in the matter, Link and Kopaka followed in silence.
...
The skinny organic seemed oddly willing to make an alliance with the rest of them, but perhaps that was because he was entirely on his own. Kopaka couldn't be sure, but he was relatively certain that all other Primes had found at least one companion to travel with. Whether or not he was completely worthy of trust was another matter. So far, Crowley had not explicitly stated his motives on the island.
"We should get moving, regardless. It would be unwise to remain in the open." Kopaka said, responding to the organic's offer to investigate the presence of, perhaps, a relic. Honestly, the other three of them had nothing better to do at the moment. Kopaka did not want to immediately start hunting Mickey Mouse again, both out of respect for Magus, and out of the hopes that someone else would scuffle with the nuisance before they crossed paths again. The Toa briefly looked at the sun as it set languorously behind heavy clouds. It seems that the storm they had narrowly escaped had only expanded, even as the island itself continued to shrink. Kopaka absent-mindedly spun the crowbar over his right hand, contemplating their next steps.
Regardless of injuries and tactical retreats, they were making progress.
Re: Day 3 Evening - Mickey Mouse - 02-20-2016
Pop!
“Owwwwwie,” Mickey screeched, but Blues placed a hand over his compadré’s mouth, silencing his whining.
“Those guys might still be nearby, Mick,” the preteen machine reminded him.
Mickey nodded. Blues pointed toward his own shoulder, and the mouse copied the exact same motions the Proto Man had just gone through. His friend sat criss-cross apple sauce in front of him, and with one swift jerk, he slid the machine boy’s shoulder back into its proper location. Discomfort flashed over Blues’ face for a brief second before being replaced, strangely enough, by an expression of unfamiliarity.
Do robots have bones? Mickey wondered; he thought about voicing this thought aloud, but something told him that perhaps this wasn’t a subject Blues was eager to speak about. Instead, he just sat next to him, joining him in silence.
A few yards away, Belle had slipped into sleep amidst incoherent ramblings about “vajayjays” (which, to Mickey sounded like some exotic species of bird) and boxing. The mouse honestly had no clue what the two had to do with each other, but in the girl’s mixed up brain, he supposed, anything connection was plausible.
In front of the mouse and Proto Man, two of Teucer’s relics lay on the ground. One, the shield Mickey had been carrying for a good while now; the other, a set of bracers they’d recently nabbed off one of the many competitors that rushed for the Defibrillator. Two down, four to go.
“That girl’s got the sword,” Blues spoke up as if he’d been going over the same things as Mickey at the same time.
“And there’s that kid, with the armor,” Mickey glanced over at the preteen machine.
“So we know where two of them are. That’s a start,” the boy smiled, “…so how do we get them, then? Any ideas?”
Mickey shrugged. Honestly, he had no clue. They’d had a chance to snatch the sword off of the redhead girl at various points in the fight, but she’d managed to evade the grasp of the Proto Mouse with surprising efficiency. It would take more than just a little bit of skill to swipe her relic off of her. The boy in the green tunic, meanwhile, was a bit of an anomaly—he’d always seemed to be right around the corner, following Kopaka and the other guy along through the forest.
And then there was the matter of the Proto Mouse. They’d decided to use it again almost as quickly as they’d sworn off of it. Blues didn’t seem to mind, but constantly living in a body that wasn’t his own had quickly grated on the mouse—the experience just seemed so foreign to him, and he was having trouble getting used to it.
But… such power.
“We find them and we take them,” Mickey resolved, standing up. He grabbed the shield and left Proto Man sitting by their supplies, rejoining Belle over by the tree. He hated seeing the redhead so banged up.
He took one last quick glance at Teucer’s buckler before laying it next to a sound-asleep Belle. One of the pictures in Play, Boy that still could be read following its unfortunate submergence in the river described a method of protection for women; they called it a Nuvaring, but it was shaped pretty similarly to the spirit’s shield so for now, Mickey decided, this would have to do. It served him well in a tight spot. And since Kopaka had stolen her crowbar, she had no way of defending herself.
“It said this would protect you for a month or money-back guarantee,” Mickey whispered, sliding down next to his friend, “So if it doesn’t…”
What? he thought. What will you do, if this doesn’t turn out how you expect? If this doesn’t turn out how you hope it will, Mickey? There is no money-back guarantee here on the island. The thought soured his expression, so he pushed it far out of his mind.
“…well, we’ll find Teucer and we’ll make him pay up.”
Belle groaned a little in her sleep.
“Eat your heart out, Rocky Balboa.”
Quote:Mickey has given the Shield to Belle.
Re: Day 3 Evening - Clownpiece - 02-20-2016
The long grass of the prairie crunched beneath Somerled’s feet, a massive gap in the vast plains trodden down by his endless pacing. Just slightly louder than the sounds of his steps was the near incoherent mutterings of the monster, harsh and low in tone. He’d followed that ethereal voice so he could eat. A device like that, which could shock a person back to life, would be highly desired by so many. Prey, attracted like moths to a flame, and yet he was driven off with so much as a bite.
She was right there. His next meal had been within reach. Unconscious, singing with the scents of injury and blood. So helpless, so easy to kill, so human. Not even that weird, white metal whatever could have stood between him and his lunch. It would have fallen too, slain by the hand of the monster.
He should have charged, rushed down that boy with the gun. What had he been thinking, using a gun against a monster? He’d been shot by those silly little contraptions of metal and powder too many times to count. They weren’t a threat in the least. The only ones he’d ever felt even a tiny bit worried by were those monstrosities created by the Council. Massive gadgets of magic and metal, made specifically to kill the unkillable, loaded with rounds so big they would rend his entire being to dust in an instant. Those were the types of guns he’d run from, not from whatever half-rate mechanism that silver-haired boy wielded. Guns couldn’t kill a monster.
So why did he run? The monster ceased his pacing for a moment, turned his head skyward, and unleashed an enraged, incoherent shout. He could have taken every single shot from that weapon and still been standing. The gods know he’s survived far worse. It took an army and a god to kill him, and that only worked because they nullified his power first. Some asshole with a firearm should have been easy pickings. No matter how many shots he would have sustained, he would still be standing.
His gaze fell down to the new hole in his gut. Blood no longer seeped from the wound. Now, it was mist, rising up and disappearing into the breeze. The dead flesh and spent blood of the monster, no longer with anything to sustain it, dissolved into the very essence of the weather. He poked his finger into the wound. Searching for gaps or abrasions would have been a fruitless endeavor, with no way to feel. Neither his hand nor his gut would give any indication of texture nor symptom of pain. He pulled his finger back out, spotless.
A growl escaped the throat of the monster, his pacing starting back up. Next time, no matter how many he had to face, no matter who was there, he was going to get a meal. Even if he had to eat them alive, tear into them while they flailed about helplessly. He wouldn’t even wait until they were weakened, or unconscious, or anything of the like. They couldn’t push him back, he’d just bite their hands off. They couldn’t escape, not if they were in his grasp.
If he started eating immediately, the moment he was within range, then not even an army would be able to pull him off in time to save them. That was his plan. He would eat. Someone would have to fall prey to him. No one would get in his way.
No one.
He would eat.
Re: Day 3 Evening - Schwi Dola - 02-20-2016
The new pain only reminded Desco of the pain in her shoulders. While Dante and Ururu might not actually understand it, the wounds on Yogsothoth were as real to her as her back. Desco used Yogsothoth to relieve the pressure of standing. Her tail wrapped around one of Yogsothoth's tentacles and Yog slithered smoothly along the ground. It seemed almost natural to her to assume this movement that she didn't think about it. It must have been one of the instincts put into her, perhaps from one of the many demon species instead of an artificial one.
Dante wasn't looking very good. His injuries had to at least look the worst of the three. Of course, Desco's tough demon hide and large surface area made it harder to tell that she was injured compared to them. Ururu was already tending to her own. What was she doing? Desco just watched as she ground up herbs and used pieces of cloth to dress her wounds. It was curious skills and oddly ninja-like yet so out of place. Basic skills like that were pretty rare in Hades where it was far easier to learn or have implanted into you healing magic.
It was a tense mood after a loss. Desco was upset, angry at her own weakness. Ururu was more angry at the Warlock for managing to fend them off. Many moments passed in this silence. Then Dante broke it with a laugh. "Wasn't that an interesting fight." He groaned as he got up from his position on the ground. "This wasn't going to be easy." "Of course not, baka! We should have done more research first!" Desco just nodded. The path a final boss was not an easy one. Big Bro had taught her that defeat was natural. You had to lose some to learn how to fight.
She put on a brave face. There was only one course of action for Desco. "Desco is ready to go back!" She put a had up in the air, wincing at the pain as she moved. "I'm ready for round 2! We are going to teach that jerk what a real fight is this time." Dante just shook his head though. They weren't ready for another fight. If this enemy had more tricks, and surely he did, they were going to need allies. He hated to admit it, but he was on his last legs himself. "No, we are going to need something more."
Re: Day 3 Evening - Proto Man - 02-20-2016
Another day was drawing to a close.
And just like the others, Belle had managed to cap off her experience by suffering another head injury. While the girl had managed to shrug or limp off the first few, the most recent injury had here mumbling in her sleep following an incoherent and rambling stumble from the most recent battle.
How much gas did Belle have left in her tank?
For that matter… how many more lives did Mickey and he have left? With the threat of multiple relics in the vicinity, they’d opted to use the earrings. Much like before, the metal mouse had been enough to deal with the situation at hand. In their controlled withdrawal from the scene of the battle, they’d accumulated one of the relics—a pair of bracers that sat near the edge of what would become their fire pit in a few hours.
“She’ll be okay,” Proto Man whispered as Mickey sat down next to him. A glance over at their slumbering partner revealed that the mouse had set the shield over her form like a blanket. “Something tells me she’s probably experienced worse than this before.”
Although he nodded, it was clear that the mouse wasn’t exactly buying the argument, and Proto Man wouldn’t hold that against him—it was in his friend’s DNA to care about others above himself. It was that very trait that drew the preteen machine to the mouse, and it would be that very trait that would allow their trio the best chance of enduring this adventure.
“Where do you think the rest of the pieces are at?” Proto Man asked as he stared at the circle of stones on the ground. “Aren’t we running out of island? I feel like we’ve been walking nonstop for days.”
Mickey nodded his head. “Something tells me that the other pieces aren’t camping for the night… you know what I mean?”
Proto Man frowned. “They’ll be out there, looking for blood, won’t they? Like that Kopaka thing.” The mouse scowled at the mention of the large machine’s name. “You said the Empire sent that thing after you?”
The tiny monarch shook his head, causing his ears to flap back and forth. “Something tells me he’s just in it for the money. Sure, the Empire put out that bounty, but I think he’s a freelancer.”
“People make a living off of that?” Proto Man asked, and the moment the question left his lips, he felt like the largest idiot in the entire Omniverse.
Of course they do. People like Samus Aran.
The preteen machine scowled. Samus Aran only fought the bad guys, right?
Mickey wasn’t a bad guy, though, which made Kopaka something far worse.
Even though he’d been here longer than many of the primes he met, Proto Man still didn’t wholly understand the Omniverse. He knew that most of the people ‘selected’ to join this place weren’t nice, despite the fact that most of the native population tended to be decent folk. The citizenry of Darkshire, while gruff and paranoid, had been a sturdy, hard-working, and diligent people at their core. Those who lived in the slums of Coruscant who didn’t try to make money from tech- and drug-smuggling were some of the kindest folk that Proto Man had ever met.
Heck, the people of Nippur had nothing wrong with them. Their only fault was that they had a gilded monster for a ruler. And with the Endless Dunes as it was, the android couldn’t hold it against them that they’d rather live behind the walls of a tyrant than try their luck in the wasteland.
“If he shows up again, we’ll be ready,” Proto Man whispered to his friend as he leaned forward and picked up one of the bracers. Since he’d already discarded his own useless bracers days ago, the machine found it simple to fit the metal over his hand. Once the arm guard was in place, he was able to tug on a few straps until it fit snug onto the limb.
“I don’t think that one’s going to fire giant lasers,” Mickey smiled as the robot fitted the other bracer.
Proto Man turned and smiled beneath the shadow of his visor. “You never know.” He said, eliciting a soft chuckle from the mouse, who took another moment to glance over at Belle. Their companion had stopped mumbling in her sleep, but her breathing was still somewhat erratic.
“What about you?” Mickey inquired as he placed a palm on his own shoulder. “How’s the injury?”
The machine shrugged. “It’s still sore, but it doesn’t hurt that much.”
“Lucky,” the mouse shot back.
“Yea, I’m pretty sure the warlock didn’t zap all my mojo when we came here. Just…”
“Just enough to make you doubt yourself, right?” Mickey interjected.
“Something like that.” Proto Man lifted up one of his arms and looked at the relic. The piece of metal and leather exuded a comforting warmth. “I’ll be happy when we can find the rest of these. I think I’ve had enough camping to last me a few years.”
Although he’d been rather somber the last few hours, the remark caused Mickey to throw his head back and chuckle.
At the sound of the mouse’s somewhat goofy laughter, Proto Man found himself laughing too, and just like that, they were two pseudo-kids just trying to laugh away their fears, frustrations, and doubts.
They had a lot going against them, but for just that moment, they had something stronger than anything their opponents could throw at them:
They had each other.
Re: Day 3 Evening - Red - 02-20-2016
The swordsman teetered between conscious and unconscious during the retreat into the forest. His clothes had been welded to his skin, and secreted trails of dark smoke into the air.. The woman he had helped during the brawl managed to save his life, and towed him away. She hauled him over her shoulders and scurried as fast as she could.
“Thanks,” Trunks muttered; his voice rasped with pain and exhaustion.
The woman replied, but her words were washed away by a perpetual ringing noise. The sound stabbed at the swordsman's eardrums as if someone were hammering screws into his brain.
* * *
When Trunks awoke, the woman was gone. He sat with his back against a slender tree. Next to him, his rifle laid.
What happened?
He closed his eyes, and hugged his face with his hand. Most of the details were glossed over by the ringing noise still permeating in his head, but the he did remember came in clumps. He remembered entering Teucer's event, to claim the defibrillator; the things he could have learned from disassembling the device were far more useful than any practical use (maybe he would have gotten one square closer to solving that rubix-cube that is Omniverse physics). He remembered the anger he felt when he witnessed what the Spirit's idea of an event was—a clusterfuck of his so-called heroes trying their damned best to mutilate one another. His eyes exploded open when he recalled his next memory: a robot and a mouse merged into one person, with the help of earrings that were all-too-familiar to the swordsman—the Potara Earrings of the Kais, capable of fusing ANY two persons together. It was a bitter-sweet sight, and one that turned him to an undercooked cripple.
If Teucer truly gathered every person on the island to help him obtain the relics, why have them slaughter each other? Trunks didn't see the benefit in it. Perhaps his first assumption that Teucer was merely the lesser of two evils was correct; or maybe, he was the greater of the two evils, manipulating everyone to help him overthrow the good. Either way, the likelihood of Teucer being an innocent individual was farfetched.
Grimacing the entire time, Trunks gathered the energy to stand to his feet. He grabbed the rifle beside him—the cold steel soothed the skin on his hand—and began to survey the landscape. To the west, a black smog cut through the forest like a cleaver, sealing away everything on the opposite side. It was as if the world had ended on that side. Even the sun vanished as it dipped into the wall of nothingness, casting different shades of bruised purple across the sky. To the east, more forest. The trees were more sparse than before, and aligned themselves almost as if a trail existed at one point, parting the vegetation into two sides.
Re: Day 3 Evening - Kakashi Hatake - 02-20-2016
They walked.
“Are you sure we’re going the right way, Kakashi?”
The ANBU captain and the former Kage pushed through the dense forest, batting away low-hanging limbs doing their best to avoid tripping over the occasional concealed root. They had abandoned searching the open fields, instead endeavoring to continue their search in the brush. Neither man knew what to expect of the island’s Guardians, nor where they were to be found.
“I just feel like we’ve been this way before,” Minato called from a few steps behind his former apprentice. “...Are we lost?”
“No idea,” Kakashi replied simply. Other than the cardinal direction, the grey-haired shinobi had little to go on.
“I wish that warlock’s magic hadn’t dampened by sensory powers,” the blonde jōnin lamented. “I might have been able to sniff these guardians out already.”
Kakashi nodded to himself, ducking under a limb. “It would help if we knew what we were looking for, too.”
“True,” Minato replied. “But at least we’ve got some food, now. That bear didn’t have a lot of flesh that hadn’t already rotted away, but what was left should last us until morning.”
“Minato,” the scarecrow uttered, stopping in his tracks.
The fair-haired Kage stopped abruptly, nearly knocking straight into the man. “Yes, Kakashi?”
“What are we doing,” the sharingan-wielder paused, “after we leave this place?”
Minato thought for a moment, scratching his chin idly. “You’re always so cryptic, Kakashi,” he said finally, smiling warmly. “But I understand your confusion, it’s odd being pulled into an entirely different world. At least I had the ‘luxury’ of dying.”
“I don’t see much of a difference,” Kakashi replied, forlornly. The the latest years in the village, he had ceased to do little but go through the motions.
“Well,” the Kage replied, laying a hand on his student’s shoulder. “I can’t speak to what you feel, but I know that Obito and Rin would want you to live without this weight you’re carrying.”
Kakashi was not so sure.
“But to answer your question, I suppose we can do whatever we desire, really,” Minato shrugged. “I have a new student back in Mokugakure. He reminds me a lot of you, actually. Especially when you scowl like that,” he said with a chuckle.
Mokugakure. Kakashi had nearly forgotten about the Village Hidden in the Forest. It felt like so long since he had been there. Walking through its streets reminded him of when he was a child. Though everyone had a livelihood and tried their best to act happy, there was always the shadow of war looming. The could not shake the feeling that at any moment they could be attacked, their homes and lives erased in the blink of an eye. In many ways, Moku was worse off than Konoha had been; the former’s military might was surely only a shadow of the latter.
“The Tangled Green...it reminds me of the Land of Fire, during the Third War,” Kakashi said quietly, staring into the forest.
“I can see what you mean,” Minato responded, nodding sagely. “It does seem to mirror our past, if only superficially.”
Tsunade served as both the protector and the unifier of Mokugakure. It was her role to care for her citizens in any way that she could, but she was just a single pebble against the raging rapids of war. Kakashi knew that she fully intended to throw her life away if it meant saving her people, and he had little doubt that she would eventually do just that. Sadly, a pebble alone could not stem the tide.
Not alone.
“But for the moment, we should concern ourselves with the Spirit’s task, Kakashi,” Minato asserted. “Our futures lie outside this island, after all.”
The scarecrow nodded, determination in his eyes.
Once more, they walked.
Re: Day 3 Evening - The Spirit - 02-20-2016
PHASE 2
"Good job heroes! The storm strikes for now, but shall pass soon. Carry on heroes! You are almost there!"
Quote: New Phase
No new weather
Storm is in effect
Re: Day 3 Evening - Orihime Inoue - 02-20-2016
A defibrillator huh? Back in the world of the living, a defibrillator is an apparatus used to control heart fibrillation by the application of electricity to the heart. In other words, it’s a life saver. Something told Orihime that with a twist like this in the mysterious game of heroes this will only be available at a price. At what cost? The red hair pondered to herself while deciding what needed to be done next. This was a risk and she knew that but she could not let her friends get hurt over this quest. This was something she needed to do on her own. Maybe then I will actually be able to save someone. With her decision made Orihime quietly snuck away from the group as the gentleman struggled to get a ragtag shelter together.
Pushing through the thick forest foliage Orihime bumped into a younger man peering behind a bush by mistake. Oh no, she thought worriedly as she backed away slowly.
“I am so sorry sir-” Before the redhead could say anymore he was sushing her while subsequently pushing her head down to the ground where they crouched waiting.
“Do you see that over there?” he whispered pointing off into the distance at a machine that lay floating off the ground. It was the life-saving machine the Spirit had told them about.
“The defibrillator!” Orihime breathed loudly as she started to rise to her feet toward the item.
“What do you think you're doing?” the boy stopped her, forcing her to the ground once again. “Do you see that?” he pointed past the device to a group of warriors surrounding the machine like a pack of hungry wolves.
“If you go by yourself you will be slaughtered,” He warned, pulling out a massive gun-like contraption. “But if we go together we might have a chance, small chance, but a chance”
Orihime knew that what the warrior said to be true and she sighed regretfully. This may have been a mistake but she removed the Spirits bracers and handed them to her new found allie.
“Take these, If I die I can’t let them have both relics,” she said painfully while passing the goods off to him. His eyes became wide when he saw the exquisite bracers and nodded his head at her in agreement. With a heavy breath, the pair emerged from their hiding place to face the other warriors.
This battle Orihime was in was the most crucial battle she had ever been in. Looking around at the other warriors, all with the common goal of taking this machine made her think whether or not this was even worth it. She saw Mickey Mouse and could not help but smile, thinking again of her childhood before she realized that she was standing against him at this moment. This rocked her to her core. What a horrible game she was trapped inside. Readying the blade, she was gifted in battle; she stood her ground.
That was until the red-suited boy and Mickey somehow joined as one. Nothing could prepare her for the glorious fusion of the machine and mouse, leaving her speechless. What happened next was her foe flexing his power which Orihime could feel like waves of heat on a hot summer's day. With power like the girl had to think and act quickly.
If anyone ever asked her what it felt like battling the conjoined pair, she would tell them that at every second she thought would be her last second. Orihime swung her blade in the air and without any further hesitation, charged her weapon at her beloved childhood mouse. With one heavy swing, she sent the conjoined pair flying, back into a tree.
If I die here, I am going to die with a fight in the very last breath I take. Orihime promised herself while she prepared for the next assault.
A mix of fearing for her life and the need to get the item to save her friends fueled her vicious attacks. With every swing of her sword, the sound of its contact against the shield echoed throughout the forest. While she struggled to put any sort of the dent on the mouse/robot pair, she peered over her shoulder to see balls of fire come straight for her. Barely dodging the fiery barrage, Orihime took her massive blade and pierced the ground at her feet, so she could easily jump over the assault from the man who appeared to be an elf of some kind. To the surprise of the red-haired healer, her sword expelled powerful volts of electricity much stronger than the energy blade that shattered at the touch of the hero's sword she had now.
If she was going to make any headway with the crazy mechanical mouse, she needed to remove the threat of being burned to a crisp. Changing her movements to attack the fire wielder, Orihime charged at him, slashing and dodging the onslaught of fireballs with caution. Countering a fiery attack, she sliced upwards, making contact with the enemies leg and shocking him with a flow of electricity, then followed with a slash across his chest. The fire warrior retaliated with a ball of fire, punching her square in her fluffy pillows. With a blood-curdling scream, she went to put an end to him, only to find that he had disappeared into the forest. A trail of blood followed after him.
Turning to see her allie fighting the Mouse hybrid, Orihime rushed over as fast as she could while the sting and burn of the fireball left her shaking in pain. He could not end this on his own, Orihime knew that while she charged towards the mouse and made her godly sword kiss his back, causing blood to rain down on her. Even this vicious attack did not seem to phase the two as they countered their attacks with an explosion that sent Orihime flat on her ass, in the dirt once more.
The pain in her chest was almost unbearable, to the point she felt it might be better to give up and surrender over her weapons; anything to live. That was until she saw the enemy stand over her new found friend.
“No, I won’t let anyone else die!” Orihime cried out angrily, as she mustered whatever amount of courage she had left into picking up her sword and attacking the pair one last time. Bringing the fearsome group to the dirt floor, she quickly picked up the boy with more ease than she could have imagined and ran off towards the direction they came from.
Once Orihime thought she had a greater distance between the other warriors she relaxed and laid down the fighter gently on a pile of soft leaves. Tears ran down her face as the extensive burns pulsated with pain. She had failed and what made it worse is the bracers were gone and in the hands of Mickey Mouse and friends.
Life is not given to use, you have to fight for your right to be here and Orihime was starting to question what right she had. Orihime whispered her location into the fallen warriors ear, before planting a soft kiss on his cheek, leaving him to find Sasuke and Victor.
The stormy sky and howling wind reflected her feeling of failure as day turned into night. Removing her top slowly, the pieces of fabric sticking to burnt flesh on her chest causing her to cry out agony. By the end of this I am going to end up completely naked she thought while pushing every so further into the wilderness. Sasuke and Victor are going to have a fit once they hear what happened.
Re: Day 3 Evening - The Spirit - 02-20-2016
FACE TO FACE
URURU, DESCO, DANTE vs. MAGUS, KOPAKA, LINK, A.J. CROWLEY
URURU, DESCO, DANTE vs. MAGUS, KOPAKA, LINK, A.J. CROWLEY
Still battered and beaten from their recent fight the trio of Desco, Dante, and Ururu sat in relative silence. Defeat held a certain bitter sting for the three, who up until now had been more or less unstoppable. The entrance to the warlock’s cavern rumbled ominously as no doubt sinister magic was being conjured. Ururu sighed and threw a nearby rock deep into the cave, listening to the sound of stone skipping against stone. She turned to the other two and spoke, “ready for another round?” Her two companions nodded and stood in preparation for another fight.
From behind them a garbled mass of bass lines and sick wubs barreled forth, slamming into Ururu’s back and enveloping her in the sweet cacophony of dubstep. Her lithe frame crumbled forward and she was dashed against a nearby boulder. The small demon girl exclaimed her friends name and turned to face their attacker.
“Sorry for crashing the party ladies,” the dapper demon smirked as he blew the smoke from the barrel of his musical weapon.
Behind the devilish Crowley stood his allies, the young elvish boy from earlier and two newcomers. In Link’s hand gleamed a golden bat and strapped to his chest was the Hero’s breastplate. Directly to his left stood a bionic robot, stark white in all its glory, but unarmed. The final assailant was a towering pointed-ear man known as Magus, in his hands growled a worrying chainsaw. The apparent leader of the group, Magus, scowled and spoke, “kill them all.”
Hell broke loose as the primes engaged in combat. Overhead the clouds darkened and began to swirl, choking out the bright light of the sun. The warlock’s magic was no doubt reacting to the gathering of primes, and if it wasn’t for their bloodshed they would surely be torn asunder. Hail and rain in equal measure began to buffet the combatants and the cracked earth turned to mud and muck.
Dante stepped forth against the oncoming onslaught, his grey eyes the telltale mark of his hollow state. Link rushed him, swinging the golden bat wildly for the son of Sparda’s head. The red-cloaked warrior sluggishly dodged the devastating blows as his wounds chained his movements. Even in this brutal mindset, he knew that Link had the upperhand unless he ended this quickly. A wild haymaker laced itself through Link’s onslaught, connecting with his jaw. The young boy’s world was sent reeling as his grip on the bat loosened and he tumbled back into the mud. Hail pellets stamped a dizzying staccatto onto his dome. Nonchalantly Dante retrieved the golden bat and stood over the fallen warrior. Link’s blurred vision tried to focus, but the gleaming bat was raised high and aimed for his head. A wicked blow cracked into Link’s head, knocking him limp and unconscious.
Dante growled and raised the weapon once more, “one more swing.”
An explosion of blood and gore was punctuated by a dead man’s scream.
Magus had intervened and saved the Hero of Time. The growling chainsaw was buried to the hilt in Dante’s back, spewing guts and viscera across the battlefield. He garbled and tried to scream in agony, but the terrifying machination roared over his own voice. Slowly and with great malice Magus removed the saw and pushed Dante into the mud, leaving the Son of Sparda to bleed out in the hail and rain.
“Well, now that the brooding antihero is out for the count you two want to keep fighting?” Crowley called out to Ururu and Desco.
Ururu spat blood into the mud and glared at the sarcastic devil. Her ally was dead and they were severely outclassed in terms of weaponry. Things looked bleak, but there was no choice but to fight, they were cornered. Desco smiled and launched a volley of batarangs back at Crowley, slicing into his flesh and tearing his suit.
“A final boss never surrenders, especially not to some second-rate demon like you!”
Around the young boss a striking purple aura began to burn. Yogsothoth stretched outwards and bulged with strength. The monstrous beast lashed towards Crowley, crawling against the earth and propelling Desco towards him. Crowley stood his ground and levelled his bass cannon. The weapon belched forth a stream of concentrated music which slammed into the approaching devil-girl. Her empowered form pushed through the cacophonous stream and sent a single tendril towards Crowley’s head. The strike shattered his sunglasses and sent him on his ass. The dubstep gun splattered against the mud next to him.
Kopaka stalked towards the injured shinobi, he had no qualms about ending her life. She was merely another adversary to be conquered. The Toa punched forward, aiming for her windpipe. His attack was dodged and a blow was returned in kind. The two engaged into a deadly dance, each move carefully calculated and every weakness exploited. Kopoka’s superior stature forced Ururu into a defensive style. Her feet dug into the mud and her back pressed against the exterior walls of the warlock’s cave. A suckerpunch to her gut stole her momentum and in a panic she shoved against her robotic attacker.
“Fuck,” she groaned and trembled as her insides twisted.
Magus turned to face the super-charged final boss. He charged forward, swinging his saw in hopes of lopping a tentacle off. Desco caught sight of him a moment too late. Yogsothoth moved instinctively to protect its symbiote. The whirring blades carved into Yog’s flesh and Desco screeched in pain. The demon’s body shuddered and snapped outwards, smacking Magus into the mud. He had no chance to move as the enraged tentacles crashed into his body, pounding him deeper into the earth. A tempest of blows rained down upon the mage, pummeling his body.
Ururu stepped into Kopaka, a surprisingly risky move from the pragmatic ninja. The Toa of Ice swung for her face, but she ducked low and tackled his legs. With a practiced movement she attacked his center of gravity and toppled him against a bed of jagged slick stone. She jumped up and ran away from the cave.
“Desco!” she shouted desperately, “we’re outnumbered, time to leave!”
The enraged demon relented her assault on the fallen Magus and fled with the ninja to fight another day.
[spoiler]WINNERS
LINK, MAGUS, KOPAKA, CROWLEY
DANTE DEAD
Magus has several cracked ribs and internal bleeding. 8 damage (Major injury)
Link has a broken jaw. 5 damage (Moderate Injury)
Crowley has a bloody nose and several small lacerations. 3 damage (Minor Injury)
Kopaka’s body is bruised and there are several punctures from his new bed. 4 damage (Minor Injury)
Ururu is slightly defeaned and her body is beat up pretty badly. 5 damage (Minor Injury)
Desco’s tentacle has a open gash. 6 damage (Moderate Injury)
Link rolled a 5
Crowley receives the Greaves Relic
Ururu manages to take the box along with her
Desco -1 SP[/spoiler]
Re: Day 3 Evening - Magus - 02-20-2016
Colossal raindrops the size of grapes pelted him as he lay in the mud, the taste of blood on his lips and the heat of agony in his chest. For what felt like an eternity, he could not take a breath, nor fade away, though his lungs burned for lack of air.
The strange, black tendrils that teased at the periphery of his vision whenever he made a Shadowstep had appeared again. Perhaps he was dying, ebbing further and further from the material plane. Perhaps the infernal denizens from where his magic came would claim him when he died.
Interesting concept. The ramifications were worse than death. Worse than Hell, even. At least, worse than the Hell as described by his victims. Many times he’d been cursed before ending a life. Damn you to hell, they said. Only one time it resonated with him. Perhaps it was the time he most truly deserved it, as the words had come from a schoolteacher who he’d put to death. And then her students.
And then, finally, with one long, gasping breath, he arched his back and began to cough. Blood spattered his face and chest and the violence of his hacking sent spears of anguish radiating throughout his torso. Waves of sickening heat radiated from his flesh, but the frigid rain brought great comfort to him as he relaxed again and laid there, in the mud and the blood and the defeat.
He took a shaky, wheezing breath, and then another. With each painful rise and fall of his chest, the ominous tendrils at the corners of his sight faded further and further away, until they were gone, and all he could hear was the constant pattering of rain and rumblings of thunder. And the occasional shriek or wub-wub from his new ally’s weapon.
But it was Kopaka who suddenly towered over him, looking down at him and shading his face from the rain. Magus looked up at the Toa with scarlet eyes burning with anger and pain and shame. How hamstrung he was without his magic. How utterly useless.
The ice creature extended his hand and, after a moment’s hesitation, Magus took it. The pain in his chest as he was hauled to his feet was debilitating, but the Demon King took it in stride, having immediately noticed the actual demon tending to Link.
“Is he dead?” Magus asked at once.
“No, he just took a savage hit to the head. He’ll feel about as shitty as you look once he wakes up, but I don’t see any reason that he shouldn’t be alright. I mean, relatively speaking, anyway,” Crowley replied, having to shout over the din of the storm.
Magus stiffly picked up his chainsaw, gritting his teeth against the pain that throbbed in his chest, and made his way over to the one he had felled. A booted foot roughly turned the corpse over so that Magus could see his face.
“Redgrave,” he said at once.
They had fought in the Colosseum. The man was a formidable opponent, and had nearly defeated the Fiendlord there. It was a stroke of good fortune that he was able to quite literally cut the man down before the devil could hit his stride – things may have had turned out quite differently if it were so.
Magus looked over to Kopaka, then to Crowley and Link. He hung his head.
“I am… sorry,” the magister finally said. “It was my decision to come this way. My decision to attack. I should have done more.”
“You protected Link and Crowley. We could all have done more. Regardless, we fared better than our adversaries. They will emerge one sword arm fewer. Attrition will be harsher for them than for us.”
“Perhaps,” Magus allowed. The Hylian stirred and Crowley helped him to sit up. Vague familiarity overwhelmed him again, and he found himself again questioning why he felt as though he already knew the one called Link. The wizard looked back at his masked comrade. “We will emerge from this as victors, Kopaka. I’ll not let the ones who did this to Link escape judgement. We’ll slaughter everyone who stands in our way and we will get you the Mouse, as well.”
“Then perhaps we should focus on Relics for now. He has hidden himself behind some very powerful allies,” the Toa replied.
“He has indeed. But you’re right. We shall not be cut down by foolishness and emotion. We had not come this far heeding bleeding hearts and the lust for blood.”
He spoke of pragmatism and rationality – both traits that had come to define him. But beneath the façade, he harbored deeper, more fiery motivations. He’d find the little one who’d broken his ribs, oh yes. The poor girl would suffer for the pain inflicted on him. She would suffer until her heart stopped beating for the very last time.
And the Mouse and his friends? If they were lucky, they would expire before he could set upon them.
Re: Day 3 Evening - The Spirit - 02-20-2016
FACE TO FACE
SOMERLED MURDOCH VS. BELLE, MICKEY MOUSE & PROTO MAN
SOMERLED MURDOCH VS. BELLE, MICKEY MOUSE & PROTO MAN
Murdoch crossed across the bushes, his hunger for flesh insatiable. He wanted, no needed flesh to feast upon. He couldn’t control his primal urges any longer. He peered through the bushes to see his prey that he could not finish earlier, but the man with the gun was no longer a factor. The smell of the Red Headed woman got his attention. Drool began to come down his mouth as he charged in, regardless of safety.
Somerled ran towards the threesome, baring his teeth. He darted towards them and was right behind the group. Belle screamed in pain as Somerled bit her arm. The taste of blood filled his mouth and Somerled smiled in ecstasy. The monster turned away as the trio turned to defend their member. The trio turned around, to see the grinning monster. The taste of blood making him lust for more. He took a deep breathe and resourced his power to resource to summon Sonny once more. Murdoch nodded to his missing companion before an explosion occur. The group was tossed back by the explosion. Murdoch attempted to chase after them before a shield came from the dust and knocked him out.
Proto ripped off a particle of her clothing and began to bind up the bleeding bite wound as Mickey wiped the blood off of the shield. The monster did not have a piece of the relic, and Mickey didn’t want needless blood to be shed.
Quote: [spoiler]Belle has a chunk bitten out of her arm and has slight burns - Minor Injury 4 DMG
Murdoch now has a concussion and is bleeding from the head- Moderate Injury 5 DMG
Proto has ringing in his ears and is fairly dizzy -1 DMG
Mickey has ringing in his ears and is fairly dizzy -1 DMG
Murdoch used T1 Super Attack - 1 SP[/spoiler]
Re: Day 3 Evening - Ururu Kyuuei - 02-20-2016
Ururu snarled as Dante’s body fell in her mind’s eye even as she and Desco retreated. Her ally, someone she had gotten very used to having around was gone. Again. Everything was falling apart, everything. She just wanted a nice quiet life of research, the others and more importantly Hikaru. Then this thing happened. Omni happened. Her sensei happened.
“Fuck this,” Ururu hissed as something snapped in her. She had been playing nice, trying to not hurt anyone, even scaring them off with false threats like that first group they had encountered. In the end it meant nothing. She wasn’t going to hold back any more. This place was filled with savages bent on power and doing everything they could to bring out the worst of humanity.
Like she had intended for Kopaka before they had both been abducted… it was time to teach them a lesson that ever person on the island needed to learn. There was always consequences.
Forcing her fists to unclench, Ururu whipped herself into a frenzy of movement and action. Here in the orchard overhanging the cave that escaped from, there was materials she needed to start the fire.
Ururu didn’t care anymore
Within moments she found reed, wood and fiber. A decade and a half of living in a culture that valued survival of child soldiers gave her the means to start a fire in a handful of minutes. Her frantic actions only stirring a curious look from Desco. She could practically read the girl’s questions, no food and it wasn’t cold. Why the fire?
The answer was simple, shinobi had been using light to communicate at a distance for centuries, but this was a far more simplistic and universal than that. If she could get it hot enough, let off a beacon. In this darkness everyone on the island would be able to see it. Maybe ignite the entire island if the breeze hit it just right. Either way, it would get every ones notice, congregating in one area or another.
Let them see first-hand how their brutality played out.
If they wanted war, they would get one, they would be fighting their very natures. For Ururu she was sick of dealing with the outcome. Let people learn the lessons she had learned years ago.
Humanity and humanois were hopeless. The greatest cosmic joke. It needed the control only a god could enforce if it had any hopes of surviving with a modicum of sanity left. She wasn’t a god now but she would be some day but for now... she could fake it until she made it. And like a dog that couldn’t stop pissing on the furniture it was time she rubbed the world’s collective nose in its mistakes.
With fire burning on the ground, she began to leave her mark in a long line. Three dots, three dashes and three dots.
An SOS of roaring flame to welcome every fucktard, who preyed on the weak or strong; to come down here and start the biggest bloodiest orgy their infantile minds could manage. Maybe then they’d learn the value of the pain they reaped. Of how much damaged it caused the soul.
Quote:The Final Guardian is at K12, enjoy!
Re: Day 3 Evening - Kopaka - 02-21-2016
Kopaka hovered as the rest of the team gathered themselves after the fight. The storm overhead showed no signs of ebbing, and though he himself was perfectly comfortable, the shivering bodies of Magus, Crowley and Link indicated that the current environment was not suitable for them. He directed his blue gaze towards the opening of the cave that the other Primes had just vacated. Clearly there was something in there worth investigating, and if his intuition was to serve him at all, it was likely to be dangerous as well. A peal of thunder echoed across the island, briefly throwing the entire scene into brilliant contrast. The roaring sheets of rain served as a suitable soundtrack to the bruised status of his resolve.
Fighting Ururu hadn't initially been something the Toa had been planning on doing. For that matter, he had even, briefly, considered allying with her. To say that he felt bad about this most recent exchange would be overstating the biomech's capability for reticence, but it was true that Kopaka would have preferred otherwise. There was another element to that fight that was more troubling, however. The last time they had done battle, both had been in possession of their familiar abilities, in a controlled environment. It had been a battle of tactics and guile. What had happened here had nothing to do with that. Even though he was in possession of a weapon, Kopaka had gone after the young female with his bare hands, driving his cold fists into her face and torso with merciless force. She had responded in kind. It had been a vicious, messy affair. But why? Why would Kopaka forgo the use of the weapon he had fought so hard to obtain?
Perhaps Ururu had served as a convenient conduit for his ongoing existential crisis whose name was 'The Omniverse'. Perhaps it was because, despite his outward show of confidence and determination, deep down Kopaka was nervous. It was an unfamiliar emotion, borne from unfamiliar circumstances. This savagery with Ururu had not been personal, on any level. It had simply been the product of fear. The only question was, had anyone else picked up on it? The Toa glanced back at the other two, even as they worked on dragging Link under the outcropping of the cave. No, they had been occupied with their own struggles. Link and Crowley were both a tad too extroverted to notice such subtleties, but despite his best efforts, he and Magus had bonded. If anyone was going to notice that Kopaka was starting to lose his proverbial cool, it would be the blue haired wizard.
...and then, to add insult to Kopaka's aching injuries, the Toa spotted small tongues of flame beginning to dart over the treetops in the distance. Had lightning started a brush fire? Unlikely...it had been storming on the island for two days now. Someone had intentionally started the conflagration, and there was little doubt that it was going to draw attention. Kopaka let out a sharp sigh of disgust. There were many reasons that fire was his least favorite thing in the entire world. Fire could only ever destroy. It carried connotations of anger, recklessness, and a lack of control. Tahu had embodied these things perfectly, and had the unfortunate strength to punctuate them. The biomech shook his head and wandered into the cave after the other three, just as Link was beginning to come around.
"Whatever is here, we should either leave or be done with it quickly." The Toa said, hefting his crowbar absentmindedly. Something about this cave reeked of Darkness. There was an acrid pungency in the air...a sort of ozone tang that denoted the presence of unnatural forces. It put Kopaka ill at ease, and it did nothing to assuage the countless questions racing through his mind.
"It's your call, Magus."
Re: Day 3 Evening - Ada Wong - 02-21-2016
A chilly, biting draft cut through his thin jacket and dress shirt like infinitesimal needles of ice. When he chanced a glance upwards, orange-yellow flames flickered into brilliant life in the distance and danced energetically among the skeletal limbs of trees, as if a match had been drawn across the windswept prairie in a jagged and terrible line. The sky remained dark and fathomless, even as spitting tongues of fire splintered it into reddish-purple sickles of curled smoke.
"Nice weather we're having," Crowley joked half-heartedly to the stirring, barely conscious Link, although a minute shiver from the cold racked his frame. "Haven't seen a lovelier evening, really."
Not a soul laughed. That was quite alright; someone had to be the life of the party. His eyes went to the splatter of visceral bits and scarlet blood still peppering the ground, glinting like little rubies against the midnight blue-green blades of grass. If you could refer to this half-cocked gore fest as a party, anyway.
Something about this whole thing just didn't sit right with him. Sure, it had been downright fun to watch that skinny-limbed ninja girl go flying away from his gun's blast like a spinning top, but it wasn't like him to just go and bully people around like that. You simply couldn't get away with such nefarious behavior.
Oh, who was he kidding? Crowley was having the time of his life. The others might have been having second thoughts, but it had been far too long since he had done anything outright sinister like that. Even if his long-abandoned heavenly sensibilities decreed otherwise, there was a certain part of him that preened upon acknowledging just how swimmingly things had gone.
He would have received a Commendation for this, he was sure of it. This sort of thing was right up Dagon's alley. Not that Crowley wanted to be up that guy's alley. No, certainly not. Far too smelly.
His hands strayed to his face, hovering for but a moment before he slid the shattered lenses of his shades from his aristocratic nose. Lips pursed in a decidedly sour look, Crowley murmured a few solemn words under his breath before tossing them away. They landed with a clatter against a low stalagmite, and for the first time in what felt like centuries, bright golden-yellow eyes glittered from the shadows furling along the faintly damp cave wall, completely uncovered.
The demon commented on the state of the blonde-haired Hylian's health to the others, paying half a mind to the grave words spoken by the ice-enshrouded soldier and the wielder of shadows. Something gloomy and dour loomed over their heads like a raincloud, and the impending conversation would surely make it fit to burst, sending cold droplets of despair-anger-helplessness washing over them. For now, however, they were a solid enough front, albeit a mite lop-sided.
It was unexpectedly difficult for him to meet any of their eyes. Instead of doing so, the demon knotted his shredded tie with geometric precision, hissing softly under his breath as dozens of miniature cuts stretched and bled.
A lulling, steady beat emanated from the weapon settled against his hip. It was a bit mud-splattered, but then again they all were, and so Crowley didn't begrudge it any for getting a smear of dirt on his leg. He even hummed along.
Da-dum-bada-dee-da-ba-die.
Re: Day 3 Evening - Link - 02-21-2016
Quote:Before the F2F
Link groaned, nursing the lacerations to his body. He stuck close to the trio, at least as best he could, given his labored gait and heavy, broken breathing. His head hung, the boy’s current state of mind was clear. He ached, all over, and while they were clearly making agonizingly slow progress, something stirred within the Hylian. The notion soured the Prime’s mood, fronted by a face like thunder.
His current allies left Link with a bitter taste in his mouth. One wanted nothing more than the Mouse’s head, the other wanted power. It was if the Spirit’s plight was little more than a means to an end for the pair. It almost felt as though Link was nigh on the only one with any actual interest in helping the Spirit. The Hylian groane, again, riddled with doubt. ‘What to do?’ the green-garbed warrior questioned himself internally, he was overly sure that given the chance, one of these two would gladly step over his corpse in the pursuit of their respective goals.
Quote:After the F2F
The Hylian roused, meager, heaving breathes caused the teen to twinge and lurch in pain. His head was pounding, he had sustained yet another gruesome injury and it had left him in a state. The Mage had saved him, but he was little more than a cog in the sinister machine that drove this alliance. Words of slaughter and bloodshed hovered around the boy’s aching head, further dropping Link’s mood into the mud.
The Demon helped him to sit, pain surged through his body, his vision blurred and his ears rang, a high pitched screech drowning out the remnants of any conversation. A wave of anger and resentment shifted over the Hylian. He would play no part in a slaughter, nor would he relish in this foretold bloodbath. It was not in his nature to simply kill, to take another’s life for the sake of personal gain. Link planted his knuckles onto his thighs and forced himself to his feet, through sheer grim determination, the Demon rushing to his aid. The boy, however, rejected his advance, pushing him aside as he headed away from the trio.
“I’ll play.. no part.. in any slaughter..” Link wheezed, practically hissing, “Spill as much blood as you see fit, but I’ll no longer seek it out with you.” The Hylian spat a glob of blood at his feet, venom laced within his words, “If.. if we meet again.. on the battlefield.. May the better.. -man- win. I thank you.. for your.. kindness and help, but this is as far as I’ll follow along.. blindly.. like little more than a sheep.. another tool for bloodshed.”
The boy forced his way past the trio, clamouring to halt the injured Hero of Time, still the high pitched screeching drowned out any words they spoke. He broke off into a laboured run, limping very slightly, his movements lopsided and clunky.
* * *
The green-garbed warrior reached a suitable spot, just far enough away from his former allies, but hidden enough that he could collapse to the ground in relative safety, without fear of ambush. In the distance, a great fire roared, licking away at the horizon. Somebody had sought to bring attention to the area, anybody within a relatively large distance would be able to see the signal, no doubt the machine, mage and demon would find themselves swamped in the coming hours. A vague amount of guilt wafted over the boy, he felt indebted to them, they had saved him numerous times, but his sense of honour far outweighed the debt.
The boy slumped against a tree, nursing his various wounds. ‘Just an hour’s shut eye..’
Re: Day 3 Evening - Minato Namikaze - 02-21-2016
They walked, and they walked, and they walked. Until the brightly light afternoon sky transitioned into dimly lit shades of pink and orange. This, however, was almost drowned out by what appeared to be a storm not too far from where they were at the moment. Minato stared up at the water-like colors, coming to a stop in a small forest clearing. The trees around them stretched upwards, but no canopy sat above their heads, they had a full view of the star filled sky that sat above them.
'Hey Kakashi' Minato began as he gave the area a quick once over with his eyes. 'I think we should camp here for the night.'
Kakashi looked around and nodded, they did need to stop and rest at some point, and now was just as good a time as any to set up camp.
It wasn't the best looking camp site, a fire and a couple of logs to sleep against was all they could rustle up. It's not like fluffy white pillows and were just laying around the island.
Their time on the island had been relatively uneventful, sure there were a few bumps in the road but, other than that, they hadn't really stumbled upon much else. This left a seed of disappointment within Minato, he had hoped to do something for Teucer.
'Minato...' Kakashi spoke, interrupting the man's train of thought. 'What was dying like?'
His companion's question shocked him, he couldn't find the words to describe it right away. He had been caught off guard by the silver haired shinobi's question.
'Well…' Minato began, searching for the right words. 'There was a lot of blood loss. I guess it really didn't feel like anything but numbness…' the golden haired man's voice trailed off as he remembered being run through by the fox's claw. 'then… then nothing. I lost consciousness and that was it.' Minato crossed his arms as he finished his explanation. He stared at Kakashi, wondering what was going through his mind, as his companion stared into the fire.
'Why did you want to know?' The blonde asked as the masked man just stared into the light, returning his question with nothing but silence.
'Because if you're thinking about Obito and Rin-' the former hokage began before being interrupted.
'No.' The scarecrow-like man interrupted. 'It's not that. This task just seems more like a competition. There are others on this island just like us.' Kakashi began to explain. His assumptions seemed to be correct, and Minato had come to the same conclusions not so long ago.
'But if there's even a slight chance that we will be killed soon… I want to be prepared for it.' Kakashi finished.
His former protégé was right. They would need to be prepared for a situation like that. Hell, he had known that there was a high possibility of death when he had gone to fight the Nine Tails. He hadn't expected to come out of the fight alive, and that had helped him come to terms with his fate.
Minato nodded, he didn't say anything else, he didn't need to say anything else. A nod was good enough for Kakashi. He just leaned back, against the log, and shut his eyes. It was time to get some sleep.