02-07-2016, 08:34 PM
About as abruptly as he had been sucked into this mess, Dante found himself once more swallowed by blackness and spit out into an unfamiliar location. Thankfully, this time he went through the experience prepared to land on his feet.
The earth was relatively firm under the stomp of the devil hunter's boots, grass flattening under his tread but the dirt not quite giving way. As his senses swam back to the surface of reality, Dante surveyed the immediate area. A minute of looking in all directions yielded the appearance that the nephilim had landed in a sort of in-between, a compromise between sweeping waves of dull grass and drier, less-lively earth. One side of the immediate horizon revealed a choppy rise in ground elevation which looked to come to an abrupt end; a feature worth investigating, to Dante's thought.
Most importantly, for the moment, the red-coat champion was alone. He didn't expect that to keep up long, considering everyone else that had the same general goal, which just made the current prospect something more savory.
In any case, about that raise. Dante stomped his way up the hill, the uneven footing not so unreasonable that he couldn't scale the rocks at a moderate pace. Reaching the highest point had him step onto a weathered cliff edge: one of a series of high bluffs that overlooked the ocean. Therefore, it could be reasoned that this champion had landed on the coast of this ancient land- something that Dante would merely hum at in consideration.
Taking advantage of the higher position, the devil hunter looked back to observe the area in a more broad sense. Almost exactly in the direction he had come from, the landscaping transitioned (or more accurately, deteriorated) into a dry and wracked terrain, fit for only the hardiest of creatures to live in. To Dante's left, tracing down the coastline, the cliffs were eventually cut off for the lands thereafter to descend into a sort of valley; therein lay a large grove of scattered and ruinous constructions, all too likely the remains of some old civilization.
Could that be where the hero's spirit had originally hailed from, in another time? Dante had no way of knowing, nor did he particularly care. It certainly seemed like a good place to start scoping out, even if for nothing more than supplies. Perhaps that shall be Dante's first destination, then.
The simple jaunt back down the bluffs was just that, quick and non-challenging. As the half-blood prepared to journey east, however, he couldn't help but spare another sidelong glance at the empty, mint-condition cardboard box he had appeared next to.
It was utterly useless, considering how Dante very absolutely dismissed the thing earlier. Yet, there remained something strangely compelling about it...
The next thing he knew, the grown man was was sitting curled up in the open box like an over-sized 8 year-old.
"What the hell am I doing?"
The earth was relatively firm under the stomp of the devil hunter's boots, grass flattening under his tread but the dirt not quite giving way. As his senses swam back to the surface of reality, Dante surveyed the immediate area. A minute of looking in all directions yielded the appearance that the nephilim had landed in a sort of in-between, a compromise between sweeping waves of dull grass and drier, less-lively earth. One side of the immediate horizon revealed a choppy rise in ground elevation which looked to come to an abrupt end; a feature worth investigating, to Dante's thought.
Most importantly, for the moment, the red-coat champion was alone. He didn't expect that to keep up long, considering everyone else that had the same general goal, which just made the current prospect something more savory.
In any case, about that raise. Dante stomped his way up the hill, the uneven footing not so unreasonable that he couldn't scale the rocks at a moderate pace. Reaching the highest point had him step onto a weathered cliff edge: one of a series of high bluffs that overlooked the ocean. Therefore, it could be reasoned that this champion had landed on the coast of this ancient land- something that Dante would merely hum at in consideration.
Taking advantage of the higher position, the devil hunter looked back to observe the area in a more broad sense. Almost exactly in the direction he had come from, the landscaping transitioned (or more accurately, deteriorated) into a dry and wracked terrain, fit for only the hardiest of creatures to live in. To Dante's left, tracing down the coastline, the cliffs were eventually cut off for the lands thereafter to descend into a sort of valley; therein lay a large grove of scattered and ruinous constructions, all too likely the remains of some old civilization.
Could that be where the hero's spirit had originally hailed from, in another time? Dante had no way of knowing, nor did he particularly care. It certainly seemed like a good place to start scoping out, even if for nothing more than supplies. Perhaps that shall be Dante's first destination, then.
The simple jaunt back down the bluffs was just that, quick and non-challenging. As the half-blood prepared to journey east, however, he couldn't help but spare another sidelong glance at the empty, mint-condition cardboard box he had appeared next to.
It was utterly useless, considering how Dante very absolutely dismissed the thing earlier. Yet, there remained something strangely compelling about it...
The next thing he knew, the grown man was was sitting curled up in the open box like an over-sized 8 year-old.
"What the hell am I doing?"