06-12-2017, 11:33 PM
Central Hallway
Tearen heaved a great sigh as he was zapped into Syntech Space by the garish portal. The first thing to hit him was a wave of stray thoughts and ponderings, excited and giddy to be amidst the company of this many Primes. The elder Prime could feel the toddling influence of alcohol in many minds, and watched as roving gangs of gawking secondaries tried to get surreptitious selfies with famous Primes. It had an atmosphere of the first Abyss event Tearen had attended a few years ago. In his previous form, the buzz of activity would have pleased his disposition for chaos, but now it was just affronting.
The Shadow looked around for familiar faces and found few to choose from. Gildarts, most notably, was milling around the foyer, but Tearen was sure that the Strongest Prime would not recognize him in his current form. No...it would be the form that had banished itself in an act of existential panic, in a world and time the felt almost insubstantial. That would change in a few moments.
"There he is! Nealaphh! Master Nealaphh!" came an eager voice from his left. Tearen lazily looked in that same direction and saw a Syntech TV crew bustling up to meet him, their camera dollies clattering loudly on the gilded tile floor. A breathless young filly of a woman pressed a microphone towards his face, her bright eyes ecstatic for the scoop of her career.
"You are the same Prime Nealaphh that slew Volvagia, yes?" she asked with a Nexus-like grin. Tearen sucked in a deep breath. If he was going to make his message to the Omniverse as visible as possible, he would have to be quite conspicuous right off the bat. As distasteful as the ensuing scene was, it was necessary. Black Glass rolled up Tearen's human face with a loud crinkling noise, and his signature green eyes flared to life. The ambient light levels flickered as the area around Tearen rumbled with telekinetic power. He rose slowly into the air, allowing black smog to ooze from his body and roll resentfully along the ground.
When he spoke, the whole room vibrated with deafening brassado.
"Indeed, it is I, Nealaphh, now calling myself Tearen Wover. Forder Headmaster of the Institute, slayer of Volvagia, and Fugitive from the Underverse. I have clawed my way from Hell to bring a dire warning to the Omniverse." Tearen boomed. Every eye in the central hallway was on him, and even a few patrons in the adjacent facilities peeked their heads out.
"...w-w-wha...um...what's that?" the Syntech reporter said, trembling. Her fear was exciting, and Tearen would be lying if he said he wasn't enjoying this a little bit.
"Diablo is not trapped in the Underverse. He sends denizens to and from his Hell freely, and at will. There he broods, growing his power, waiting for a chance to reinstate an era of terror, and blood. All people of the Omniverse would do well to be on alert. The Lord of Terror could strike, at any moment."
Silence ensued. Maybe that had been a bit much. With a mental sigh, the Shadow slowly lowered himself to the ground, and allowed his eldritch appearance to dissipate as a black fog. When the haze cleared, Tearen stood as his human form, silver-white hair drawn back in a braided tail and wearing a sharp black suit. He certainly didn't intend to upstage Karl Jak at his own show, and his message had at least been heard at this point.
"As distressing as this is..." he continued, his speaking voice a comparative whisper, "...I believe there is hope. I will take further questions in the Park." he said softly, promptly strutting off in the direction of the arboreal sanctuary. The Syntech reporter, to her credit, launched into an immediate communique to the live audiences about the excitement of the Abyss and so forth. A thousand eyes followed his quiescent footsteps, and Tearen smiled in spite of himself. Was this how Gilgamesh felt, walking the streets of Nippur? Ah, but he shouldn't let it go to his head. Being a loud man in a crowded room didn't make him a king.
But...it did make him a talking point, which was an excellent start for his overall goal in the Abyss. For now, he would try to enjoy whatever facsimile of nature this artificial pocket world had to offer. The glow of spherical lanterns and gentle shadow of foliage beckoned him into the small paradise at the end of the central hall.
(Moved to Park)
Tearen heaved a great sigh as he was zapped into Syntech Space by the garish portal. The first thing to hit him was a wave of stray thoughts and ponderings, excited and giddy to be amidst the company of this many Primes. The elder Prime could feel the toddling influence of alcohol in many minds, and watched as roving gangs of gawking secondaries tried to get surreptitious selfies with famous Primes. It had an atmosphere of the first Abyss event Tearen had attended a few years ago. In his previous form, the buzz of activity would have pleased his disposition for chaos, but now it was just affronting.
The Shadow looked around for familiar faces and found few to choose from. Gildarts, most notably, was milling around the foyer, but Tearen was sure that the Strongest Prime would not recognize him in his current form. No...it would be the form that had banished itself in an act of existential panic, in a world and time the felt almost insubstantial. That would change in a few moments.
"There he is! Nealaphh! Master Nealaphh!" came an eager voice from his left. Tearen lazily looked in that same direction and saw a Syntech TV crew bustling up to meet him, their camera dollies clattering loudly on the gilded tile floor. A breathless young filly of a woman pressed a microphone towards his face, her bright eyes ecstatic for the scoop of her career.
"You are the same Prime Nealaphh that slew Volvagia, yes?" she asked with a Nexus-like grin. Tearen sucked in a deep breath. If he was going to make his message to the Omniverse as visible as possible, he would have to be quite conspicuous right off the bat. As distasteful as the ensuing scene was, it was necessary. Black Glass rolled up Tearen's human face with a loud crinkling noise, and his signature green eyes flared to life. The ambient light levels flickered as the area around Tearen rumbled with telekinetic power. He rose slowly into the air, allowing black smog to ooze from his body and roll resentfully along the ground.
When he spoke, the whole room vibrated with deafening brassado.
"Indeed, it is I, Nealaphh, now calling myself Tearen Wover. Forder Headmaster of the Institute, slayer of Volvagia, and Fugitive from the Underverse. I have clawed my way from Hell to bring a dire warning to the Omniverse." Tearen boomed. Every eye in the central hallway was on him, and even a few patrons in the adjacent facilities peeked their heads out.
"...w-w-wha...um...what's that?" the Syntech reporter said, trembling. Her fear was exciting, and Tearen would be lying if he said he wasn't enjoying this a little bit.
"Diablo is not trapped in the Underverse. He sends denizens to and from his Hell freely, and at will. There he broods, growing his power, waiting for a chance to reinstate an era of terror, and blood. All people of the Omniverse would do well to be on alert. The Lord of Terror could strike, at any moment."
Silence ensued. Maybe that had been a bit much. With a mental sigh, the Shadow slowly lowered himself to the ground, and allowed his eldritch appearance to dissipate as a black fog. When the haze cleared, Tearen stood as his human form, silver-white hair drawn back in a braided tail and wearing a sharp black suit. He certainly didn't intend to upstage Karl Jak at his own show, and his message had at least been heard at this point.
"As distressing as this is..." he continued, his speaking voice a comparative whisper, "...I believe there is hope. I will take further questions in the Park." he said softly, promptly strutting off in the direction of the arboreal sanctuary. The Syntech reporter, to her credit, launched into an immediate communique to the live audiences about the excitement of the Abyss and so forth. A thousand eyes followed his quiescent footsteps, and Tearen smiled in spite of himself. Was this how Gilgamesh felt, walking the streets of Nippur? Ah, but he shouldn't let it go to his head. Being a loud man in a crowded room didn't make him a king.
But...it did make him a talking point, which was an excellent start for his overall goal in the Abyss. For now, he would try to enjoy whatever facsimile of nature this artificial pocket world had to offer. The glow of spherical lanterns and gentle shadow of foliage beckoned him into the small paradise at the end of the central hall.
(Moved to Park)
And, we dream of home I dream of life out of here Their dreams are small My dreams don't know fear I got my heart full of hope I will change everything No matter what I'm told How impossible it seems We did it before And we'll do it again We're indestructible Even when we're tired And we've been here before Just you and I
Don't try to rescue me I don't need to be rescued
Don't try to rescue me I don't need to be rescued