05-13-2015, 02:11 PM
Alain almost laughed at the result of that battle, but he felt like he was going to vomit. His limbs felt like they were on fire from the last battle. He could feel himself bleeding, and could see the bloodstains on his shirt. Walking felt like he was carrying a gigantic bag of bowling balls on his back, but he still couldn't stop. The mercenary knew the Moors well enough that if he stopped moving, it was not at all unlikely that some wandering vampires or primes would jump him before he could react. Not to mention his old friends might have changed their mind about letting him leave. Stopping now was just asking for trouble.
He kept walking, taking a brief moment to collect a piece of what used to be the Tarrasque's Carapace as a trophy before leaving the old battleground behind. He activated his invisibility again just in case, but got the idea that if he kept moving without rest, he was going to fall flat on his face before he reached anything. This probably wasn't even the way to Darkshire. He half-considered killing himself so that he could finally leave the Moors. But, despite how much he hated the Pale Hell, he still wasn't going to actually try that. He might've ended up somewhere even worse for all he knew.
Alain sat down on the cold, lifeless ground and opened his dataverse device. There had to be a map of the Moors somewhere on the Dataverse, right? It probably wouldn't help, as everything in the Pale Hell looked the same: dead. If there weren't corpses, destroyed villages, or dead trees in sight, then you simply weren't in the Moors. He also got the impression that anyone who wanted to map the place had been butchered by vampires. Or the Tarrasque. It was dead now, but nobody knew about it, at least not yet. Unsurprisingly, the search for a map wasn't successful, and he scowled in annoyance.
On the other hand, there was Dante's Abyss. A fighting tournament, people get dumped on an island, they fight, etcetera. It was a genuine challenge to look around the Dataverse and not find discussions or videos about the upcoming event. What caught his eye however, was that it involved another Verse. That was already a plus, and there were gates to said verse in the Pale Moors. Excellent. He gets out of the Moors, potentially gets fame and power, and loses...absolutely nothing. Well, that decided it. With luck, he'd walk away with a few souvenirs for his trouble. But he knew what came next: more traveling.
Alain sighed in exasperation and started to summon some transport. He didn't know where he was going, but hopefully that wouldn't matter. With luck, a few hours of wandering would get him somewhere...
Thankfully, wandering for an hour or five or...more, eventually led him to a camp.He dismounted from the horse he'd summoned and squinted at the camp from further away. Men and women clad in medieval suits of armour were either looking about into the wasteland for anyone approaching or checking their dataverse devices, but all of those whose faces weren't obscured by a helmet looked sullen and tired. Presumably, they weren't used to the depressing wasteland that was the Pale Moors.
It was pretty obvious they weren't expecting any participants, even if some of them were pretending to look. There were no lines, and nobody looked enthusiastic. It was more likely that there weren't enough devices for everyone, and they were taking turns as to who got to pretend they were doing their job, and who got to surf the Dataverse for an hour or two. The merc couldn't see Darkshire though, so perhaps they just set up a camp in the middle of nowhere for those who were lost. Like himself. Alternatively, he was closer to the Nexus gate than he thought.
But just on the off chance that this was a trick, Alain walked towards the camp, still under his invisibility. Seems that the guys couldn't do anything about the stench, though...
Approaching from the front and walking into the open space, the mercenary took a quick look around. None of the employees were carrying weapons that he could see, maybe some were inside the big tent. The big tent with a gigantic sign that said "Dante's Abyss" on it. Their attire seemed like a pretty practical decision considering where they were, but there wasn't anything attacking them, nor did they appear to carry anything used as weapons unless the arms of their suits turned into chainguns. Perhaps there was some sort of invisible shield that only allowed Primes to get close to them and they were just using the armour to try and fit in, even if their suits were obviously in better condition than what Darkshire had? He didn't know, nor did he care enough to ask.
He could've used his analysis magic to make absolutely sure that these guys weren't a threat, but standing around for half a minute per person was too time consuming. It'd be faster to check for weapons the old fashioned way. He entered the tent under his invisibility and he vaguely heard a woman stuttering in confusion. As for the interior, most of the inside was simply empty space apart from cameras. There were some other employees, (they also weren't being productive) and a big rift in space in the middle of it all. Seemed that was his way out. He was internally thankful that he could finally leave, but got the idea that he had to speak to the armoured attendant in front of him or he'd get kicked out pretty quickly.
Alain deactivated his invisibility directly in front of the metal man, and the guy fell out of his chair in surprise.Which made everybody else in the tent turn to look at them simultaneously, the sound of about a dozen people in armor moving all at the same time breaking the silence. Someone poked their head in to check on their friend, saw what was going on, and immediately left without a word. Apparently red cloaked mercenaries that looked absurdly like assassins materialized in front of your coworkers all the time here.
"This is where I sign up for Dante's Abyss, correct?" The mercenary inquired, valiantly failing to keep the smirk off his face and pretending there wasn't a giant sign that said Dante's Abyss just outside. The other man breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that he wasn't about to get murdered. At least not yet. They took a deep breath before regaining their composure, then speaking like a professional, if one who just got the life scared out of him. "Yes, sir. If you wish to compete in the tournament, you just have to sign up here." Alain casually walked to the front of the booth, grabbed the pen and form before they were offered to him, and signed his name. He couldn't be bothered with an alias for something like this. As he did that, the metal man sized him up.
Red-cloaked man, average build, no weapons that he could see, but looked like an adventurer. If he wasn't wearing the cloak, perhaps somebody would mistake him for an ordinary guy. But after that scare, the employee knew better. Perhaps they had a winner here, who knew? You can't predict what happens in the Abyss, anybody could win. But at this point in time, nobody here could be bothered to work. The Pale Moors tended to do that. Sucks all of the enthusiasm out of you. The red-clad man in front of the worker handed him the form with an almost equally bored expression, and he took it without another word.
Checking that everything was in order, the employee took a quick scan of the register before speaking again.
"Everything seems to be in order...well, we have to record a segment of y-" Alain yawned, making the metal man clench his fists in anger. "What for?" The mercenary asked, slightly annoyed. Couldn't he just leave? The tin can straightened up, trying to look professional again. "We need to make sure you're a potential entrant and not some kind of fraud. Plus, the audience loves this stuff." Alain pulled the piece of the Tarrasque's Carapace out of his cloak gave it to the attendant without a moment of hesitation. "That good enough?" He gave the attendant the most aggravating, smug grin that he could.
The attendant stared at it in shock, Brown, but warm to the touch. Surprisingly smooth, but it definitely looked like it came from the Tarrasque."It's dead?" they said in a surprised whisper, their helmet obscuring their expression. Alain merely nodded. The attendant pursed his lips. "Well, I still think we should do th-" They began, but Alain swiped his trophy back, and, ignoring the weak protests of the metal man, stepped through the portal into the danteverse.
He kept walking, taking a brief moment to collect a piece of what used to be the Tarrasque's Carapace as a trophy before leaving the old battleground behind. He activated his invisibility again just in case, but got the idea that if he kept moving without rest, he was going to fall flat on his face before he reached anything. This probably wasn't even the way to Darkshire. He half-considered killing himself so that he could finally leave the Moors. But, despite how much he hated the Pale Hell, he still wasn't going to actually try that. He might've ended up somewhere even worse for all he knew.
Alain sat down on the cold, lifeless ground and opened his dataverse device. There had to be a map of the Moors somewhere on the Dataverse, right? It probably wouldn't help, as everything in the Pale Hell looked the same: dead. If there weren't corpses, destroyed villages, or dead trees in sight, then you simply weren't in the Moors. He also got the impression that anyone who wanted to map the place had been butchered by vampires. Or the Tarrasque. It was dead now, but nobody knew about it, at least not yet. Unsurprisingly, the search for a map wasn't successful, and he scowled in annoyance.
On the other hand, there was Dante's Abyss. A fighting tournament, people get dumped on an island, they fight, etcetera. It was a genuine challenge to look around the Dataverse and not find discussions or videos about the upcoming event. What caught his eye however, was that it involved another Verse. That was already a plus, and there were gates to said verse in the Pale Moors. Excellent. He gets out of the Moors, potentially gets fame and power, and loses...absolutely nothing. Well, that decided it. With luck, he'd walk away with a few souvenirs for his trouble. But he knew what came next: more traveling.
Alain sighed in exasperation and started to summon some transport. He didn't know where he was going, but hopefully that wouldn't matter. With luck, a few hours of wandering would get him somewhere...
Quote:Timeskip, go!
Thankfully, wandering for an hour or five or...more, eventually led him to a camp.He dismounted from the horse he'd summoned and squinted at the camp from further away. Men and women clad in medieval suits of armour were either looking about into the wasteland for anyone approaching or checking their dataverse devices, but all of those whose faces weren't obscured by a helmet looked sullen and tired. Presumably, they weren't used to the depressing wasteland that was the Pale Moors.
It was pretty obvious they weren't expecting any participants, even if some of them were pretending to look. There were no lines, and nobody looked enthusiastic. It was more likely that there weren't enough devices for everyone, and they were taking turns as to who got to pretend they were doing their job, and who got to surf the Dataverse for an hour or two. The merc couldn't see Darkshire though, so perhaps they just set up a camp in the middle of nowhere for those who were lost. Like himself. Alternatively, he was closer to the Nexus gate than he thought.
But just on the off chance that this was a trick, Alain walked towards the camp, still under his invisibility. Seems that the guys couldn't do anything about the stench, though...
Approaching from the front and walking into the open space, the mercenary took a quick look around. None of the employees were carrying weapons that he could see, maybe some were inside the big tent. The big tent with a gigantic sign that said "Dante's Abyss" on it. Their attire seemed like a pretty practical decision considering where they were, but there wasn't anything attacking them, nor did they appear to carry anything used as weapons unless the arms of their suits turned into chainguns. Perhaps there was some sort of invisible shield that only allowed Primes to get close to them and they were just using the armour to try and fit in, even if their suits were obviously in better condition than what Darkshire had? He didn't know, nor did he care enough to ask.
He could've used his analysis magic to make absolutely sure that these guys weren't a threat, but standing around for half a minute per person was too time consuming. It'd be faster to check for weapons the old fashioned way. He entered the tent under his invisibility and he vaguely heard a woman stuttering in confusion. As for the interior, most of the inside was simply empty space apart from cameras. There were some other employees, (they also weren't being productive) and a big rift in space in the middle of it all. Seemed that was his way out. He was internally thankful that he could finally leave, but got the idea that he had to speak to the armoured attendant in front of him or he'd get kicked out pretty quickly.
Alain deactivated his invisibility directly in front of the metal man, and the guy fell out of his chair in surprise.Which made everybody else in the tent turn to look at them simultaneously, the sound of about a dozen people in armor moving all at the same time breaking the silence. Someone poked their head in to check on their friend, saw what was going on, and immediately left without a word. Apparently red cloaked mercenaries that looked absurdly like assassins materialized in front of your coworkers all the time here.
"This is where I sign up for Dante's Abyss, correct?" The mercenary inquired, valiantly failing to keep the smirk off his face and pretending there wasn't a giant sign that said Dante's Abyss just outside. The other man breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that he wasn't about to get murdered. At least not yet. They took a deep breath before regaining their composure, then speaking like a professional, if one who just got the life scared out of him. "Yes, sir. If you wish to compete in the tournament, you just have to sign up here." Alain casually walked to the front of the booth, grabbed the pen and form before they were offered to him, and signed his name. He couldn't be bothered with an alias for something like this. As he did that, the metal man sized him up.
Red-cloaked man, average build, no weapons that he could see, but looked like an adventurer. If he wasn't wearing the cloak, perhaps somebody would mistake him for an ordinary guy. But after that scare, the employee knew better. Perhaps they had a winner here, who knew? You can't predict what happens in the Abyss, anybody could win. But at this point in time, nobody here could be bothered to work. The Pale Moors tended to do that. Sucks all of the enthusiasm out of you. The red-clad man in front of the worker handed him the form with an almost equally bored expression, and he took it without another word.
Checking that everything was in order, the employee took a quick scan of the register before speaking again.
"Everything seems to be in order...well, we have to record a segment of y-" Alain yawned, making the metal man clench his fists in anger. "What for?" The mercenary asked, slightly annoyed. Couldn't he just leave? The tin can straightened up, trying to look professional again. "We need to make sure you're a potential entrant and not some kind of fraud. Plus, the audience loves this stuff." Alain pulled the piece of the Tarrasque's Carapace out of his cloak gave it to the attendant without a moment of hesitation. "That good enough?" He gave the attendant the most aggravating, smug grin that he could.
The attendant stared at it in shock, Brown, but warm to the touch. Surprisingly smooth, but it definitely looked like it came from the Tarrasque."It's dead?" they said in a surprised whisper, their helmet obscuring their expression. Alain merely nodded. The attendant pursed his lips. "Well, I still think we should do th-" They began, but Alain swiped his trophy back, and, ignoring the weak protests of the metal man, stepped through the portal into the danteverse.
Quote:Appearance – Alain wears a red cloak with black sigils, the hood of which almost completely shrouds his face and eyes. Other than that, he always wears gloves and a black shirt underneath the cloak, along with black trousers. All are bloodstained from the recent fight.
Personality – Cunning and snide, the mercenary adopts a slightly more polite persona to those he think might be good allies. When angered, he does not yell, but instead speaks in an unnervingly calm tone which manages to somehow be even worse than shouting. He has no qualms about stabbing anybody in the back or in the throat, but might hesitate to betray an ally if he think they won't turn on him. On the other hand he's...a bit lazy. If possible, he won't put too much effort into what he's doing.
Possible Reactions – In the competition partly because he got lost in the Moors, partly because artifacts and fame! The first thing he'll do upon meeting somebody is act nicer to try and get them to ally with him, until later where he might leave them in the middle of the night, or stab them in their sleep if he thinks he can get away with it without an injury. If they refuse, he'll at least ask them to leave so that everyone's happy. If dealing with somebody he doesn't particularly like, he'll make snide comments about them, to their face or otherwise.
Relationships – Whirda- Alain doesn't really care what happens to her in the competition, but will most likely start with the snide comments if she speaks to him. He is willing to team up with her if he has to, though. He just won't trust her to do anything.
‘Combat’ Style – The mercenary usually analyzes a situation and acts upon the information he's gathered to get the quickest and most efficient way of killing his target(s). But he's prepared to kill and betray, fighting as dirty as possible if required to survive. After he starts to get more severe injuries or as more Primes fall, he'll take the competition a lot more seriously, but until then, it's entirely possible he'll not put much effort into his fights, unless he's outnumbered or his foe has superior weaponry. If necessary, he'll switch to hand-to-hand combat, focusing on disarming an opponent and if possible, killing them with their own weapon.
Eligible Powers – Basic Super Jumping, Survival, Stealth, Burst Movement, Insight, Master Acrobat.
Moves – Tantibus, Flame Form I, Sanguine-Tier 1 Power-Up
Extra - Alain generally doesn't talk during battle aside from trash talk if he thinks it'll provoke the foe (Gilgamesh and Gilgamesh, other egotists). Usually injured or even defeated by a failed analysis or his own laziness.
Quotes – "Let's just get this over with, eh?"
"Run now, and I'll pretend this never happened."
"Fool me once, I'm gonna kill you."
Super Buu Wrote:Omni points at Mickey. "Now you are a porpoise."
Retane Wrote:IM annoyed and I have to go make babies
Doomguy Wrote:@ Guu, Because we're talking about sticky white stuff and chaos gods
Dante Wrote:When all else fails, kick 'em in the dick
Demetri Malius Wrote:I wish I kept fucking Guu