Zone B -- Forest

[Harlan Higgs]

Heh. So, the God wasn't as clueless as he seemed. He'd finally noticed Hendy's utter lack of care into maintaining his diguise for the last few hours, and called him on it. It was almost gut wrenchingly hilarious to see one who proclaimed himself as a vaunted deity among mortals nearly lose his shit when confronted with something as simple as a Kindred. He was having a hard time not bursting out laughing at the spectacle of it.

Still, Enel was just the right amount of crazy and powerful that Hendy liked to keep in his Rolodex, so he followed the exhausted man towards the safehouse, casually ambling along at the same lackadaisical pace he'd kept up through most of his time on the island. Though, that was about to change.

He could feel it. He'd heard whispers, a few of his informational contacts had let him know before he left for Dante's Abyss; it was why he'd chosed to wear the identity of Victor Hendy. Someone upstairs had noticed his rise in the criminal underworld, and he'd been attracting attention. How could they not? Little New York on Tier 5 was about as crime free as it had been in who even remembered how long, and it was all thanks to the ubiquitously appareled Gentlemen Jacks.

Hendy figured it was only a matter of time until someone was sent to put the hurting on him for daring to upset the natural order. the only question was...who? Definitely not Enel. The man was here for his ego and not much else. Not the bug guy either, and probably not anyone he'd run into so far. But they'd rear their heads sooner or later, when he was least expecting it.

This was something he'd have to tackle on his own. Well..not have to. He preferred to. The poor God was already sleep deprived and freaking out about his undead pallor, the kind of entrance that Harlan Higgs would make into the competition would probably give the bastard a coronary. Oh well.

Enel stumbled into the safehouse and wasted no time in passing out on a long bench, snoozing loudly and mumbling in his sleep. Hendy sidled up next to him, pulling a bundle of leather straps out of his pocket and tucking it into the God's bag. Paying tribute to the lord he'd be leaving behind shortly. 

For now, anyway.

Hendy and Enel move from B12 to Safehouse B

[Malon]

Malon was up before Tearen and, using what food she could find in the abandoned camp plus the rations from their knapsacks, threw together something edible. She appreciated the thoughtfulness of the person that had thought of adding that telescopic ladle to their loadout, it made stirring the dried meat and the vegetables into a hearty stew much easier. The airtight boxes that their rations were in would allow them to take the leftovers along too, so she made a little extra.

It was rather weird to know that only a few houses away that monstrously strong man they had fought against - Gildarts, wasn't it? - was sleeping, and that his ally, Illidan, was with him. Two people that had tried to kill her over what had turned out to be what she suspected to be a sick joke were now peacefully staying near them. They'd probably break her neck if it wasn't a "safe" area. And because they didn't know what item that box contained. In either case she had put the bandana back on and stored the blindfold in her bag. Provoking Illidan would not have been a good idea.

The question now was, what were they going to do? Tearen no doubt would want to inform more people of Diablo. Of the danger that this whole world could be taken over by a demonic ruler at any point in time. That the Omniverse could be turned into a place that would make the Ganondorf-governed Hyrule seem like a paradise in comparison. To do that they had to keep on going.

You should remember the rules. Don't stay here in the safe area like a scared pup or you'll get culled. You'd better move out as soon as Tearen's up, and stay clear of the big mage. Assassin again. She hadn't seen her since the moment of fusion with Tearen. Now the figment was standing next to her as she cooked, happy as ever.

True. They should move out as soon as possible. And decide with Tearen about what to do with the dropped item. Was it really just a joke or was there something more to it? Would it have any use if they kept it? She was almost inclined to hold on to it solely because of the amount of effort it had costed them to get their hands on it.

Hearing a door creak and steps approach had her look up. Was that Tearen coming to join her for breakfast, or should she ready herself to shove off someone who wanted to snag their breakfast?

Not sure what Tearen's up to so we'll just be staying here and being boring too!

[Illidan Stormrage]

Sleep came reluctantly to Illidan.
 
It rarely didn't. Slumber was the best time for the demons to trample over his mental walls, and they tormented his dreams. They would plume the depths of his memories, delicately stringing out the darkest and most painful of them, laying them over his consciousness like silk gossamer, layering them so softly and expertly that initially he couldn't tell there was any manipulation at all. Every time he closed his eyes, and even when he sat motionless in his cavernous prison for ten thousand years, he fell into worlds he wish he had never seen.
 
The less cunning or perhaps least patient of the evil phantoms summoned the ravaged, shelled-out worlds that the Burning Legion had already decimated and threw Illidan into the centre of it. Stripping his dream self of his memories, Stormrage would scamper away from an endless horde of demonic monsters, casting the arcane spells of the Highborn, but the magic would splash against their armour, tough hides and rocky skins like water. The demons would surround him, pummelling him, slashing him, until he screamed for mercy and forced himself awake.
 
The most vindictive and skilful of the dream weavers knew the weak spot of Illidan; an emotion buried so deep in his psyche that manipulating it risked driving the night elf insane the more it was played. Yet insanity would only help the demons; a mind lost to incoherence and fear was a mind easily cowed.
 
The thread, when plucked just right, enveloped Illidan in the glory of Suramar, the capital of the night elves in the golden age of their civilisation. It dumped him right before the cyan haired Tyrande Whisperwind, a talented Priestess of Elune and the woman who captured his heart.
 
"You were never the one for me," she would hiss, smiling wickedly at the pain that would cross Illidan's young face. "I love your brother. You could never understand what we have."
 
From the shadows, a looming figure would stalk out. A silver blade then exploded from Tyrande's chest, her mouth agape in a silent scream, the light dulling from her stunning eyes as she collapsed on the ground. A Felguard would stamp on her head, and bone chilling fear would freeze Illidan in place as the blade found its new home in his throat.
 
Over the years, the night elf detected their subtle tweaking, sensed their corruptive influence in the landscapes of his mind. In time, as he came to understand their terrible fel power, he would turn the situation on its head and massacre the intruding spirits, sending them fleeing back to the Twisting Nether where they belonged.
 
Tonight was no different.
 
As he banished the last of the miscreants to their inky black prison, Illidan sat up in his bed, breath heavy and brow damp. He may have learned how to tame his nightmares, but they always left their mark on him.
 
The steady patter of rain drops drummed on the roof. The cool, silky wind crept through the gaps of the logs in the cabin, soothing the demon hunter's warm skin.
 
Crossing his legs and gripping his knees, Illidan breathed out gradually, closing his flaming eyes. There was a good chance his enemies were still resting in the same safehouse as he was, especially since the weather had taken a turn for the worse. He controlled his respiration, finding a calmness neither consciousness nor sleep could grant him. He meditated on the day's events, playing them through his mind's eye, searching for anything that he may have heard but not absorbed during the first day of the death tournament.
 
His eyes bolted open. How had he not given that statement the attention it deserved when he first heard it?
 
Nealapph had boasted of tearing himself free of some hellish prison, having procured knowledge of Diablo. From what he had heard from his soldiers and Regis, Diablo once ruled the Pale Moors. Dracula took over command when the demon lord was forced into another realm called the Underverse. Since then, Dracula's influence had spread to all corners of the verse, and Diablo's name had waned in importance.
 
From Nealapph's booming warning, Diablo was not chained to his cell. His agents travelled between worlds as he built his strength, waiting for the ripest opportunity. Illidan hadn't spoken to Dracula directly about his former master, but there was little doubt in his mind that the Count wanted Diablo out of the picture.
 
Illidan bounded out of his bed and burst outside. The icy rain drops saturated his skin, flattening his thin black hair to his back and shoulders. His omni-directional sight fanned out over the camp, creeping through the log cabins in search of his target. They had once been outside, sitting around the smouldering remains of a campfire, but the rain had chased them away.
 
"There you are," Illidan mumbled to himself, his tone low and fiery.
 
He slammed the door of the next cabin over and stormed inside, dripping water. The middle-aged human who had fled from their battle stood by the one who uttered those terrifying words.
 
"You." Illidan pushed the cane wielding man out of his path and brought his snarling countenance into his target's face. Staring at him, knowing he was a nose away from touching him, boiled the night elf's blood. He desperately wanted to finish the fight, but the gentle weight of his bracelet told him to restrain himself.
 
"Nealapph, is that your name?" Illidan said, showing no sign of curbing his distaste. "So Gildarts tells me. You said something very interesting about Diablo before this whole mess began. And I want to know details."

Moved Sage and Tearen into a cabin, since they were sitting around a fire in the rain; I figured that's what you do when it rains? Sorry if that throws anything off.

[Harlan Higgs]

Hendy left the sleeping Enel behind and headed out of the safehouse into a downpour. He frowned, looking up at the fat drops of water falling like grapes on every surface for visible sight. Ah, well. Ravnos were creatures of dreams and prophecy and omens, and a downpour like this was absolutely perfect for the coming confrontation he'd been sensing.

Some inner force drew him south, Hendy licking his lips as he anticipated his emergence back into his true nature, like a silkworm emerging as a moth. Oh, it would be fantastic. He could already hear the shocked gasps of the viewers at home as he appeared in his trademark attire with his gun at the ready.

Vic had inherited his penchant for theatrics from his Sire, another Ravnos who taught him everything he knew and delighted in fooling people right in front of their noses. He'd taken a stage name and performed in Vegas for many years, using his vampiric powers of illusion to dazzle and amaze audiences by night. Anyone who'd been there during Vegas's heydey had heard of the Great Doheny.

The memories brought a smile to the Ravnos's lip. Hah, that night with Sammy Davis Jr. and Wayne Newton had been quite a trip, even if it had ended with three unmarked graves in a construction site. Fuckin' Anarchs.

The rain showed no signs of slowing, but still he trudged onwards. Any cameras on him were probably only recording out of completeness's sake, but oh ho ho, once he opened the lid on his performance he anticilated a swarm descending down upon him and his would be assailant. It would be quite the sight.

The edge of the clearing was drawing near, the jungle starting to reclaim the ragged edges of the logging camp. Beyond that, he could see the city he'd met Enel in two days ago.

Vic Hendy moving from SHB to B14

[Tearen Wover]

A new day.

And with it, new opportunities to demonstrate angelic restraint. Here was Illidan Stormrage, a Prime who was almost solely responsible for the deaths of hundreds of Darkshire residents, a nose away from him. If Tearen hadn't been trying to protect the Hylian, he would have been tempted to give the demon hunter a smooch on his prodigious nose. The green glint that bled through his ubiquitous blindfold almost matched the exact same green radiance that bloomed from Tearen's human eyes. Both of them a sign of great power, but in and of themselves, could not have been more different. The ex-abomination tipped a coffee cup up to his lips and held up a calming hand to Malon and Sage, who had reflexively brought weapons to their hands. Everyone knew that Stormrage couldn't start anything in this camp without exploding in a fashion more literal was already the case.

"Ah...well, Illidan, I divulged the whole story last night on a Syntech livestream, so maybe you should grab your tablet back from Gildarts and have a gander at the recording while you walk today. I'm sure you'll find it..." Tearen waved a hand around in the air as he tried to conjure appropriate words, "...entertaining? You'll have to forgive me; we're in a bit of a rush this morning." the eldritch human said in a polite tone, draining the last dregs of his coffee and setting the mug on a grimy counter top. His skin began to ripple and crack as black glass crawled its way over his body, and once more Tearen adopted the visage of the brown-robed enigma. The halberd was also summoned, but if only because it made an adequate walking aid, and the Shadow was jealous of the Sage's staff. Speaking of the chronicler...

"Sage, sorry for not following up with you last night. My plans in light of these revelations are, ironically, so utterly secret that I cannot even hint to their nature. I'm sure you'll come to understand, in time. For now, I simply appreciate your help in hearing out my tale." the ex-enigma whispered. His black-glass body still lacked a proper voicebox, which Tearen had determined to be a curiosity that would never be properly explained. As he and Malon headed west from the Zone B safehouse, the Shadow glanced down at the contestant tracker on the Synpad. Seems as though Enel and Victor Hendy had slunk back into the camp overnight. He was tempted to approach them for a partnership, but it seemed as though Karl Jak was being capricious with large groups during this year's event. Oh well. If they encountered the god in the field, he would be happy to surrender their artifact and work with them before the next culling was called. For now, they needed to make headway. Although, apparently, Stormrage wasn't finished with him.

"You dare walk away in the middle of a discussion!?" the night-elf seethed, teeth bared and eyes flaring. Tearen cast an emerald gaze right back at him.

"If I'm walking away, it's not the middle of a discussion, is it?" he cooed, and closed the door. Tearen offered a cursory wave to Gildarts as they departed the safe zone, but the wizard seemed to be fussing over trying to operate a chainsaw. Malon and Tearen shared a discreet chuckled and headed on their way.

The had almost reached the tree line when Malon reminded Tearen of something he had mentioned.

"So what's this about me being immortal?"

Tearen and Malon moving from SHB to B14

[Malon]

"Ah, right, immortality. Okay, first of-" Tearen began to explain only for Malon to cut him off.

"Hold on. There's someone there... ahead of us."

"Hm? That there is... we can sneak around him." He led them off the path they were taking, through the thick brush until they found a dry riverbed to navigate. Well, as dry as it could be with the rain falling, anyway. It was solid ground and let them advance decently fast compared to the thick vegetation directly to the sides of the main path. The other Prime was moving at a slower pace than them, maybe he hadn't gotten good sleep? As they passed him Malon peeked through the brushes. Her eyes widened, she grabbed Tearen's arm and dragged him along their path at a hastened pace for a few minutes, to leave the other Prime as far behind as possible. Tearen asked no questions - it would just have exhausted him to ask while running, and her if she answered him.

"What's the matter?" he asked as soon as she slowed her pace again and looked behind them, breathing heavily. Nowhere to be seen. "You know him?"

"Yes... I don't know his name, but... I met him when I first woke up here in the Omniverse. He... murdered two guardsmen and casted some sort of spell on one of their horses. He's... some sort of vampire. One of the two guardsmen, he bit him in the neck. The other, he aimed a little item at him and the guard's chest just... exploded." She shuddered at the memory. "Past his armor and everything."

"An item? Like a wand?"

"No, something made of metal. I don't know how to describe it, it had this lengthy stick pointing forward and a grip."

"Probably a gun of some description. Don't worry, at his pace we'll be leaving him behind fairly quickly." Even so, they kept a relatively hasty pace for a bit as they returned to the main path and advanced towards their next destination. Which seemed to be mountains - the terrain rapidly changed from the thick forest, though the rain stayed.

"Sorry to interrupt you... what were you saying? First of..."

"Oh, yes. First of, do you know of a being called Omni? Or have you ever seen a white-skinned, eyeless being with a very large smile on its featureless face?"

"... should I ever have seen something that sounds this scary to look at? I can't remember it, I imagine that I would though if I had ever met it. And I've heard of Omni... being mentioned all over. People keep saying 'Thank Omni' or 'Omni's blessing on you'. Is he some sort of king? Is that why this land is called the Omniverse?"

"Not quite... Omni is the god that created this world, as far as we know. He's the one that brought us all here, that made us Primes and gave us the powers of Omnilium manipulation. He has a lot of nicknames, like the Smiling God, the Faceless One and others. Many people worship him. What surprises me more is that you have never met him. Do these words not ring a bell? 'My name is Omni. This is not the world you know. This is the Omniverse.' And so on?"

Malon frowned but no matter how much she tried she could not remember a thing. "Nope... I learnt of Omni and the Omniverse when I... when I was forced to work for the Silverhand bandits. People shared what they knew with me. They never mentioned those words though."

"What's your first memory of... no. Where did you meet that vampire?"

"In a very big white expanse. There was a stone fountain behind me. He was... probably navigating the area, and came back to greet me. I also met other people there later."

"Hmm... that's the Nexus you were in. The central verse that links all the other regular verses together. What's your first memory in the Nexus?"

"I woke up... with a huge headache and my body hurting all over, I think. My bag was in a ball of hay next to me with the items I'd packed for the time that I'd run away. I had hidden it away in that same hay and I had gone to sleep in my bed the evening before... Oh, and I distinctly remember that my forehead was bleeding. I washed the blood off with the fountain water."

"Your head hurt? Could it have been that you hit it against the fountain?"

"Uh... maybe? I have no idea. I didn't check if the fountain had any blood on it."

Tearen slowed his steps and lifted a hand to his face as if to stroke a non-existant beard. "That sounds like amnesia of short-term memory due to cranial trauma - a concussion resulting in the loss of your memories of recent events. You could have fallen onto the fountain at an unfortunate angle, or someone could have beat you up. However I can see that you're a Prime, so you must have met Omni and have been given his introductory speech. You just forgot of it for some reason."

"Ugh..." She rubbed her forehead. Only a little scar remained from where she had hit her forehead, usually covered up by her hair, but it was bothering her. How much had she forgotten? Just that introduction, or more? "So... what's a Prime?"

"Primes are those who were brought to the Omniverse by Omni. Whether he created you or pulled you out of your existing world and into the Omniverse we may never know, but it's Omni's doing. Primes have special powers. First, as long as they "interest" Omni, they will be reborn. Even if you died here in Dante's Abyss you would reappear at the Nexus Fountain after a few days, in perfect condition. On that note, if you were to die that respawn is a reason for which you should leave the Nexus quickly. Other participants will likely respawn, and not all are friendly. There's been instances of things taking a very bad turn after a Dante's Abyss was held in the past."

"So we're... immortal? We have nothing to fear?"

"Wrong." Tearen lifted a finger. "There is a fate worse than death, called Banishment... with a special item, people are able to send someone to the Underverse, the place I have gone to. It's almost impossible to escape that place once you're down there, and you're stuck with Diablo and his immensely powerful subordinates. It doesn't happen much that people get banished though, even criminals. If you don't get on the wrong people's bad side you should be fine."

Malon shuddered. Stuck down there... she could not imagine how bad it had to be after what Tearen had told her, and pointing out that he hadn't seen the worst of it, nor far less. "And Omnilium summoning?"

"Omnilium is both matter and energy, everything including us is made out of it. Primes are capable of manipulating Omnilium to summon items and even people, called Secondaries, and extract the Omnilium from other things. It's what you did when you transformed that bag of yours."

"I did magic weaving, actually! It's a spell I pulled from the memories of an ancestor..."

"Trust me, it was Omnilium manipulation. You may just not have realized it."

Malon fell silent and Tearen stopped speaking after that, too. He had shared a whole load of information with her, all at once. Now it was time for her to process it all while they advanced. They descended into a cavern tunnel dimly illuminated by fluorescent blue mushrooms, following Tearen's map.

Long post for once, sorry Alex!

Tearen and Malon are moving from B14 to E3. Leaving Harlan alone for now!

[Gildarts]

The mage felt his eyes squint with simmering, dampened anger. It had been Nealaphh behind him, though the god-mind had not meant to stumble quite so simply on Gildarts. There was a silence and the mage went back to his business, sitting his ass back on the stump seat and holding his orange chainsaw a few inches closer, ready for a ramming if needed.
 
Amicably, the unsettled tides passed between the solemn Gildarts and the indifferent Tearen and it was Illidan who grew into the aggressor. It seemed he was thirsting over information about the Underverse, a place which Gildarts had no idea existed and well, still didn’t know the full extend of it after eavesdropping. He would look into it when he was finally free of Gilligan’s Island.
 
Dawn’s light grew in the sky and Gildarts was fidgeting on his new tablet (the old one got a little soaked and wouldn’t turn on because its magic wasn’t rain-repellent) when Illidan came over in a huff, “Give me that.”
 
It was an impertinent command and technically it was Illidan’s. The OP Prime held it up to Illidan freely, there no use creating trouble in paradise if it could be avoided, plus Gildarts preferred to keep Illidan from exploding if he went after Tearen. To appease his impatience would reap its own rewards. After several minutes of staring at the glowing screen with a blank expression Illidan admitted, “I cannot find the riverstream that the Nealaphh being was talking about.”
 
“Riverstream? It sounded to me like he told you he made a livestream video, which means kind of like… Prerecorded.” Gildarts informed while Illidan’s expression twitched.
 
“You let me waste five minutes of my life on that Gnome scrap for nothing?” Illidan was scathing and looking around for Tearen to make him pay for getting his pure fel hands dirty; Tearen, had already left camp. The demon hunter dropped the glass device back in Gildarts’ good hand and seemed to be inconsolable as he paced several feet back and forth around the encampment. “And just what are you doing with that thing?”
 
“Don’t worry, you can watch it later, for now, I think we should get going too,” Gildarts spoke with a gruff voice as he slipped his hand in just the right spot and picked up his husky chainsaw. When he finally got her going she’d be a real noisemaker. “Oh, this?” Gildarts murmured, “Self defense. I saw it on a film once, it looked like it could really do some damage.”
 
“Anyway… Where is our destination?” Illidan grumbled half-heartedly.
 
“I want to know what happened to the people of this camp and the city. It could give us an advantage when we’re attempting to find more items.” Gildarts said simply then prioritized the more relevant fact to Illidan who was likely losing interest. “And when we are fighting against our enemies.”
 
“How noble of you,” If he’d had real eyes, he would have rolled them.
 

Gillidan moving from SHB to B15

[Enel]

Ohgod sleep. Sleep is so good.

I don’t even remember going to bed. But sometime after crashing into a sofa, the blinding glare of the lights is enough to rouse me from my slumber. It’s a good thing, too. I can’t afford to rest too long.

I can’t believe I let myself get to that point. It was … unbecoming, that’s for sure. I hope I didn’t too anything too unbecoming. But … ah … I’m entitled to a bit of sleep-deprived … God-antics. Shit, I haven’t done half the things Loki did fully sober. Stands to reason he exists too, in some far-off plane, if Odin does. I don’t think I could party with that guy. Then again, if Odin is anything to go by, those stories are probably a huge exaggeration.

Still.

Dude fucked a horse.

I fuck snake-women, but horses are over the line for this particular deity.

I wish I could stay in bed, but time is omnilium, and I’m all about that sweet-sweet-scrilla. Or blood-money, as it is wont to become when it enters my hands. God-blood-money.

I’m going to kill Omni.

I rise and notice that Hendy is not around. “Victor?” I call. “Victor.” No answer. “Victor Hendy!” No answer.

I suddenly panic. He didn’t?! But no, my egg is still there, where I left it. Nestled between my shaft and balls. What’s more, he left something else. Well, I can put behind me any thoughts of betrayal.

Seems like everybody else has left too. I go to the pantry and raid it for fruit, stuffing my face with bananas, grapes and apples while tucking bread and cheese into my knapsack. There’s a bit of ham, too, and I take that with some mustard and olives. Man’s gotta have sandwiches. I ain’t a freaky-deaky vampire, I can’t survive on blood and air alone.

I check myself out in the mirror. Two days of stubble. Gross. I laser it off before anyone can see me. Damn paparazzi are everywhere, and while some might like the just-out-of-bed look, I’m not one of them. My fans need to see me as pristine as possible, even when I’m putting my enemies to death. No, especially when I’m putting my enemies to death.

I rush out the door once I’m done. They’ve already announced new drops.

To my surprise, I’m barely half a mile down the road when I run into a familiar face.

“Hendy! Have you been walking this whole time?”

Moving Enel from SHB to B14. Allying with Hendy again.

[Karl Jak]

End Day 3 - Early Morning

Being Day 3 - Morning (6 am to noon)

[The Humble Sage]

The Sage awoke to the sound of pattering rainfall. The Safehouse, so busy just hours before, was now still as… well as still as an abandoned lumber camp. No one else seems to find that odd. The Sage thought to himself as he collected his things, Perhaps Karl Jak is known for displacing entire communities for his games. He seems to have created his own personal universe with little enough trouble. The aging man grunted as he lifted his satchel over one shoulder. The gash in his side from Tearen’s halberd had filled in with the strange inky blood, but it was still stiff and sore as the Sage moved around the leaking lumber room.

Finally, he decided that everything was in place, and he was ready to make his way out of the safehouse. The Sage looked down at the sleeping form of the Little Ghost, the tiny insectoid was still sleeping off the bruises that it had taken from the battle the last night. He had considered waking the critter, as teams seemed to be a common choice with the current contestants. But in truth, he didn’t know how much more fighting the hollow warrior would be able to take. Perhaps he would be better of remaining alone for now, if just for the time to think.  Best of luck to you, little friend. I hope to meet you again in the future, I have many questions that I would love for you to answer.

The Sage stepped away from the comatose knight and moved to the entrance of the cabin. The rain poured down with a steady beat, obscuring the sun and casting the world in a somber light. It would not be a good day for travel, but staying here would put him too close to trouble. A new set of drops were arriving soon, and a marker was just outside of the lumber camp he was staying in. The foes he had fought had left in the early morning, but he doubted they would be far away. It was time for him to leave the forest behind.

The Sage pulled the cowl of his travelers cloak up higher and stepped out into the quickly muddying fields

Haven't gotten a chance to plan with LG, so I'll just leave him here in the safehouse. The Sage moves from SHB to B12. No intent to challenge.

[Illidan Stormrage]

The greenish-blue line of energy, hanging in the air like fading smoke, led Illidan onwards through the highlands. Not far from their position, the landscape was swallowed by green forestry, trees reaching out and smothering the light from each other, each struggling for dominance. Illidan couldn't help but notice the similarity of their situations.
 
"What is that thing, anyway?" Illidan asked. "Is it a weapon? Or some sort of tool?"
 
"It's Husqvana," Gildarts said. "I'm sure it will come in handy."
 
The night elf frowned as a memory surfaced. Pictures of the short, pointed eared, fat nosed goblins came to mind. Similar to their gnomes in their propensity and technical skill with inventions, but far more cunning and selfish, he recalled the mechanical walkers they built, arms constructed of rotating steel teeth attached to an elongated shaft of metal. They would walk up to trees and forests, and the chainsaw arms would whir and buzz as they bit into the trunks, slowly chewing through bark and spitting out chips of wood and fine dust.
 
"I just recalled," Stormrage said as they approached the swarm of trees. The air already felt more humid, rising sweat on his brow. "The chainsaw is used for deforestation. For harvesting wood. Much faster and more efficient than an axe, though noisier than two nightsabers fighting over a scrap of meat."
 
"It'd make a good weapon too, by the sounds of it," Gildarts said, stroking the machine. "If it can cut through bark as easily as you say ... imagine what it would do to flesh."
 
Illidan narrowed his eyes as he pushed past a protruding branch. "True. But it would require you to get in close. And that still doesn't address the inoperability of the thing, either."
 
"I'm sure I can work it out," Gildarts returned.
 
"Well you better." The night elf grunted as a wayward branch scratched at his arm. The magic trail was thinning to the point that Illidan thought he may have been mistaken after all. "All of that goblin-gnome rubbish is out of my realm of expertise. Hand me a demonic relic and we've got a different story."
 

Illy, Gily and Husqvana move E1 -> B12

[Gildarts]

“What is that?” Gildarts spoke to his ally as they peered through the bushes together.

“Whatever it is, it’s gross.” Illidan grimaced.

In the coming light of day, shaded by the canopy above, a creature was hobbling around in its own greasy, green slime. The stagnant stench of death wafted over the scent of pine.

It had a stature that was almost human, but not quite. It was crippled, with a leg pinned under a freshly fallen tree, cut by a lumberjack who’d ditched his job likely the second he saw the thing.

The monster was suffering from severe emaciation, its skin was dull gray, it had a gaunt face to the point where you could see the pearly ivory of its cheekbones. It gurgled saliva which poured out from the canals of its frowning mouth and its eyes were black.

The nude being was balled up in the fetal position, it had given up on trying to escape, though it had used its inch-long yellow fingertips in an attempt to dig itself out. Only problem was it hadn't dug directly underneath the tree and its own leg, rather, it had tried to claw its torso away from its leg, causing muscle tear and a pool of stagnant blood. But no matter how much it gnawed at the earth around it, it would never live free again.

Unless Gildarts lifted the tree, because let's face it, Illidan wasn't the type. He'd just sit there and let it grovel until it starved to death.

Ick! Disgusting let it rot, you don't need to save every little thing that breathes, oh great and powerful prime! The Malefactor complained, sickened by the way his stomach had churned in protest to watching this helpless creature die alone.

"Do you...." Gildarts began to the Scourge of Darkshire.

"Oh don't even dream of it. You save the thing and I'll slay you myself, mage." The threat was heavy, but that was just the way Illidan spoke. With power and confidence mixed with a little haughty arrogance on the side.

"Should I... At least put it out of its misery?" Gildarts asked to both the voice in his head and the dark elf.

"Tch. Do what you want." The fel sorcerer scoffed.

Gildarts gulped and took a step closer, hearing the humanoid monster's sulking cries fill his ears.

"Do you think this is what became of the people who evacuated?" Gildarts asked again, procrastinating the slaying of what appeared to be an innocent creature, or human-turned monster. Even still. It didn't feel right. And the thought of killing it churned his stomach. To his left, Illidan stood waiting for death to strike it by might of Gildarts. And within Gildarts' heart, he grappled with the weight of a lost life. Putting it out of its misery seemed like the only choice. But was he man enough?

Gillidan B12-> B13 awaiting item drop and searchin’

[Gildarts]

“Wait I just want to see something,” Gildarts said as he picked up a stray acorn and rolled it across the forest floor.
 
It stumbled over water-logged leaves and damp twigs, but it rolled directly into the sight of the humanoid creature. The thing’s black eyes blinked as its head looked up at the shrouded location that the acorn had rolled and then its small hands grasped for the acorn, picking it up with its stubby thumbs and attempting to take a bite out of it, shell first.
 
Well, that answered Gildarts’ question of it being potentially rabid. Gooey gobs of saliva trickled out of its mouth as the few teeth it had left, attached weakly to the dulling splotches of gray gums it still had, chomped into the acorn with all its might, the shell broke apart and drew blood.
 
The observing Prime frowned and stood up. It only seemed like the merciful thing to do now. It.
 
Kill it. The Malefactor agreed in her serpentine voice. You knew something was wrong with the darkness inside you agreed.
 
Gildarts looked down at Husky in his hand. If he did she’d get dirty. And what did she ever do to deserve that? Blood and messy chunks of flesh hanging off her blades like that, it was no way to treat a lady. Though the mostly steady rain would wash it away…
 
Illidan was tapping his foot impatiently. Gildarts felt the weight of his moral dilemma plague him. Gildarts heaved in a breath and unclothed his mistress. If he revved her up just the right way, she wouldn’t have to feel it.
 
The limpy mage took a slow walk over to it, passing through brambles and branches that clawed at his skin but left no mark. It was startled when the tall man came into view. The glassy shards of shell still crunched upon its tongue yet its jaw hung open. The creature was shivering as though by the cold, intimidated by size alone. The way nature worked. A law of size and gusto.

It was out here in the rain with no clothes on. A terrible way to die for anything, much less something that had once been a human being. Now it started clawing at the ground, hoping for escape. Gildarts found the starter cord what would start the Husqvarna up and pulled his hand against it, eventually her engine would warm, he was already smelling the sweet scent of gasoline she was emitting.
 
At the chuttering chugs of hopping power, she grew from her slumber and the blades began to whirl around the guide bar like a steely vortex of death. His hand was right next to the choke as he grappled with her orange body and held it high in the sky before ramming it down swiftly, he didn’t want the creature to feel a thing.
 
Thing about portable power saws though, is that if you tilt them wrong you got sprayed. While this surely counted as ‘practice’ it didn’t help him aim the stream of brains to perfection. The teeth that linked to form an endless chain slashed into not the skull of the creature, but Gildarts missed and sliced directly into the tree pinning it down. Shavings of sawdust flew into the air and continued into the downward momentum of his swing. Suddenly the log was light enough, and the creature was scared enough, to pull itself completely free.
 
Aww you let it get away… She spoke over the overpowering moans of the chainsaw.
 
The silver-armed mage pulled up on his forceful grip and released the downed tree from his wrath. Qvarna was still rumbling with life when Gildarts glimpsed around her anatomy searching for the off-switch.
 
“Are you done yet?” Illidan groaned and Gildarts pressed his finger directly on the most obvious button. Her ravenous noises died down and they headed back to the safehouse.
 
 
 

Gillidan B13 to Safehouse B

[Gildarts]

You could’ve at least put it out of its misery, now it is out there on its own, disabled with that broken leg and probably just going to die to the elements anyway. she reasoned in a skeptical, yet merciless voice.
 
“Yeah well,” Gildarts groaned and then realized Illidan was walking nearby and could hear him. He awkwardly shuffled his feet and pretended not to say anything. He couldn’t have his one teammate thinking he was insane. Maybe the rain would drown out his voice.
 
Illidan’s pointy ears could pick up sound much better than the human mage’s and while the dark elf heard the prime start to say something, he assumed the man had just opted to not. Especially after that shameful excuse for a show. The guy didn’t even kill the damn thing! Had it not scampered off, Illidan would likely have finished the job with a quick backhand. Blood had yet to spill.
 
Honestly I was surprised it didn’t try to gnaw off its own leg like some shackled wolf or something, beast has to survive in the wilderness and all that, and it could make due without a… Leg. Hell, you’ve lived this long without both an arm and a leg? Hey, it must have been a real expensive woman you were fighting with, am-I-right? she teased scornfully from inside the abode of his mind.
 
Gildarts opted to go for the strong silent route, when the Malefactor got in moods like this there was no arguing, just striding onwards. It was no wonder his sanity was tilting, imagine having a woman in your head, never shutting up. Worse than an overactive conscience. Worse than, or rather more like, he was possessed. He wouldn’t let her disgusting attitude ruin his mood though. He’d managed to spare it and keep his precious chainsaw safe and healthy and pristinely clean. Plus, now he saw the real and swift damage that Husky could do, he was even betting Illidan wished he had one, despite his grievances with electronic “toys.”
 
Still treating that thing like your next wife? I wouldn’t chalk her up for anything more than a glorified vibrator. Just remember what happened to the last one. the Malefactor had now crossed a line.
 
Cornelia died. Gildarts thought solemnly. His ex-wife. She didn’t have to bring that one up.
 
That’s right. But do you even know how? she bantered, teasing him with the lack of his knowledge. You didn’t even go to the funeral. Of course you don’t know how.
 
I was out of town, wasn’t she sick? Gildarts asked.
 
Sure, sick. Let’s go with that. You didn’t even visit. Nor were you by her bedside when she passed. She died heart-broken and alone, no thanks to you and your reckless-
 
So you see, this is why Gildarts attempted not to feed into the voice that was basically the essence of Satan, residing in his mind. It was especially perturbing because he knew the Malefactor item was no longer in him. This was the after effect, or so it seemed more like withdrawals from a drug he’d never consented to taking. He’d walked off his fever with the light exercise and kept pace with his taller fel ally. Not to mention the constant sprinkling of rain kept him refreshed and perked up. Yes, it was a wonderful day to be alive, even when someone was screaming in his ear and pressing all the right buttons to get underneath his scarred skin.
 

SHB to B15. Eyeing potential drop spot.

[Gildarts]

Dust is currently NEUTRAL. (And RP conversing, that is all)

 
Gillidan moved last post to B15 FROM C6 (my bad I forgot to post my “TO” post in the new zone, *(B) * but I have this one which is just a regular post to confirm.

 
“Are you out of your mind?” Illidan asked.
 
He wasn’t being rhetorical though. Nope, not in the slightest. Gildarts felt his innards squirm awkwardly and hushed the voice in his head’s potential response.
 
“We’re this close to getting the next drop and you want to consider allying with some random stranger? Your own ally Nealaphh battled you not even a day ago, like you had it coming!” Illidan wagered. He had keen ears and a keen mind. Something Gildarts seemed to lack.
 
“Well perhaps it is precisely why I want to see what he’s about. Plus, I didn’t even get the chance to introduce myself to him yet, so I didn’t say I was allying him. Just investigating.” Gildarts said with a stern expression held on the dark elf.
 
His mind was churning. It seemed the wizard wasn’t completely being reckless, though it did feel that way in his mind. “I don’t trust him.”
 
“Well, that’s what keeps each of us all on guard now, isn’t it?” Gildarts said clutching his steel hand into a calculated fist (which was free of Husky) as a reminder of who they were against. Their protective alliance was mutual. So was their respect for one another. Gildarts had impressed Illidan, and Illidan was spooky enough to carry himself in a way that was intimidating, that was, before the mage had seen what he could do in battle.
 
Illidan felt himself grimace, he didn’t hate the idea of having another potential friend, especially after the damage they’d received from their last battle four against two, or so, that’s how it had been fought. Like some sort of free-for-all that resembled the chaos of war.
 
All things in his mind, and the ideas in his air, he was certainly not partnering with anyone new. Not when they’d strolled up looking as though they came for a fight.

[Dust]

It wasn't a mystery as to why Dust was there. They were playing the same game and knew all the same rules as one another. That drop was what brought the youngster into the dangerous territory of the two. He already was calculating the risks of this encounter and he had a high probability of crawling away from it if he was lucky, but he had signed up - albeit a bit forcefully - for this game and he had to play it or finally know what it feels like to disobey someone who held the leash... Now that was intimidating! Although not frightening. He observed the conversation they were having from an unbiased point of view as he generally did, even if the idea of thinking in a partial to one side or the other kind of way was available to him, he couldn't help but think this was a habit he shouldn't break too early.

He gathered that neither held the leadership position because it would be like telling two kings that one's opinion holds more water than the other or two alpha wolves that they were being demoted to beta. While the human seemed more level headed and neutral towards the newcomer, the dark elf seemed full of hate and needing something to release it on; and with Dust's appearance, he saw a target for his aggression. Almost instantly Dust felt the weight of half the force behind the two cut away. It only made him more aware of the two's abilities. As the elf dragged the man away, Dust almost considered it a victory on his end. He could stay and take up the item as long as no one came.

But was winning this game ever his agenda? He had considered the idea now that it was probably already too late. If he wanted to do this, he would have attacked the troll in the woods, wouldn't he? But the risk had grown so fast with the appearance of the two men after that. Despite noticing each member had some kind of injury three on one was not a good idea. In fact, being on his own now seemed like the most illogical thing he's done since, say, taking part in a death game without knowing if he could even fight. Now he was without Dawn and Takezo... He never thought he'd have to resort back to his old style of thinking by choice.

Pit between a rock and a hard spot, Dust decided to try to use his charm instead of his claws. Giving the scorer and his friend an appropriate amount of space to talk among themselves. He followed them into the woods. He would not lower himself to begging, but it was apparent he needed friends. Who better than the most powerful force he had found on the island? Like a lost pup with no master to protect him from the rain that still persisted, he followed them but in a less threatening way. He still stood tall and ready, but relaxed his shoulders and fingers. His ears picked up the sounds of hushed voices but not the words.

Gildarts, apparently having persuaded his elven companion of something, turns to go back. Only to find his shadow has followed. His heavy brow raised but he couldn't help notice the equal amounts of respect and casual curiosity in the guy's eyes and actions. "Well uh, were back."

"And?" Hokori asked as if talking to a friend instead of someone who could crush him.

Dust follows casually from C6 to B15, nuetral towards the two, but on guard.

[Gildarts]

“And I’m Gildarts Clive,” the man said with a deep, compelling voice. The crash wizard was nothing if not mostly respectable and polite. “This is Illidan. And you are?”
 
“Hokori,” the newcomer stated, it was a japanese name, “But you can call me Dust. It’s usually easier.”
 
“So are you here to try and kill us?” Illidan spoke his mind. Gildarts respected that, as long as no blazes of fire were flung, at least, before their time.
 
“Well…” Dust hesitated. Not quite out of fear, perhaps he was just being cautious considering the two-verses-one position he’d been put in. Along the collar of his neck there was an imprint of black lines, it could’ve been a number. Or a short name. Hard to tell between the strands of dark hair and at the curved angle it had been printed on.
 
“No.” The lycan finally concluded, as though his mind were made up now. In fact, the shimmering glint of opportunity shone in his eyes. “I was curious. And if you were going to smite me, I think you’d already have done it.”
 
It was a faint challenge layered with gusto. Respectable enough, but he had an impression to make. Illidan seethed, his glimmering eyes glowed through his blindfold, the dark elf’s muscles tensed with an aura of anger, however it was difficult to discern from the expression on his face.
 
This seemed to be the shirtless Prime club. Most of Gildarts’ ivory ties had been torn from the battle, or stained first crimson, then the blood had faded to an ugly chocolate colored stain. Other than his completely tattered cape he’d lost in his first battle, he never wore a shirt. Illidan didn’t either, which Gildarts never fully realized nor appreciated. Now however there was a third shirtless stranger and things could get pretty weird pretty quick. Gildarts kept Husky protectively close, but it didn’t seem like the stranger was after the chainsaw which hung idly in the hand by his side.
 
“Well then, the feeling is mutual,” Gildarts surmised, pretending to forget Illidan but doing so with grace, “More or less.” The smell of fresh lumber filled their noses and the silence between them. “Say, did you see anything that looked kind of human but distinctly not human scamper by?”
 

Gillidan Moving to SHB to avoid a potential altercation with Dust (neutral)

[Dust]

Survival has always been his game, and this was no different. He quickly noted that it would be best to stay on the good side of the man with orange locks around his hair. He might not be the leader, but he was the most social one of the two. Dust couldn't help but wonder if that meant the elf was the more battle ready type. He seemed the type, from his glowering face and his upside down grin, the constant death eye he was giving the young punk that dared to follow in the footsteps of pure greatness. Dust would have to be extra careful with his words if he's ever alone with the elf, even if it pissed the guy off to have someone not readily shaking in his knees in their presence. He had no plans on bowing before the two kings, but he would continue showing his respect while he continued to observe the both of them.

He had never gotten a good look at the two and their weapons, but the man he was most interest in had a chainsaw at his side for crying out loud. While other's might misjudge the youngest Prime there, for the lack of weapons and such, Dust knew that appearances were deceiving. Probably why he remained weaponless for the most part. Partly for the payment, partly for the misguiding effects. He would not pretend the elf was not a threat to him, he clearly was..

When Gildarts effectively called him out on his own claim, Dust's smile went wide, like he'd been caught in his potential lie, but with enough mischievous around it to bluff, like he didn't know what the good man was talking about. He stayed like that, relaxing his shoulders a bit more but never his posture. Never his posture. It was like he has been trained from birth to stand with a tall spine and lifted chest, his neck relaxed under his smiling jaw, and his hand coming up to his side to settle on the sculpted hip that peaked out from the shorts that touched skin all the way down to his knees. He wore no shoes as if raised in a barn, but stood like he was somebody.

"Scampering, you say?" He said, turning his head just quick enough to send his dark locks asunder before they settled back into place with the rain helping. Then he turned back to Gildarts. "Must have missed it." He added, even daring to put humor in his tone as he followed the two still. "Did it look important?"

Dust gets chummy with his new friends and follows Gillidan to the Safehouse B from B15. No alliance is made, but no enemies to be had(Still neutral).

[Gildarts]

The three Chippendales and the chainsaw certainly was reminiscent of some sort of debut Las Vegas show, there was tension as every man there stood taller, puffed out their chests, and gazed at their potential opponent. Danger was still palpable despite the electronic shackles that united each one of them.
 
Tch. What are you going to do, entertain the watchers with some sort of show in hopes you’ll win Karl Jak’s favor? I know he’s promiscuous but come on, he also likes a little bloodshed, that’s why this island EXISTS. You wanna get in his pants or snuggle up with dear old shark-teeth at the end of the night?
 
Wow, she’d gotten more vile than a rapper trying to make a name. Gildarts was a little shocked, but he didn’t know what she meant by Karl being promiscuous, Gil had never seen him make a dirty joke in his life. Maybe with this new information he could bribe the host with the girl magazines he’d snagged from the city. The Malefactor tsked, No, no, Karl is more into the dominance theme. He likes to earn it, if only for power’s sake. He wouldn’t be interested in that servile shit in the magazines. Don’t you remember, I was in the first one? He said loads of things.
 
Gildarts blinked because he liked the magazines. Still, he was in the middle of a potential altercation and shushed the temptress in his mind.
 
“Well… To the competition, not really, but I was hoping to deduce what happened to the islanders,” Gildarts spoke carefully and then added more use for his concern of the monster. “It could become a threat to us too.”
 
Dust resembled a shirtless puppy. He had messy hair, his feet were very unclean and he was up to his ankles in mush, or dried mush. Dust looked at the chainsaw in Gildarts’ hand and found it very anachronistic. There was magical power spewing off of the well known mage, so why did he need a chainsaw? Maybe it was to throw off his competition, which, Dust admitted to himself, was an amazing strategy. Pretend to get close with the chainsaw and then WHAM! with some magic.
 
Or, there was a much more grave issue. What if Gildarts was so wounded because for some reason his powers were neutralized? Dust would stick in this for the long-haul. He wanted to find out. There was no challenge he couldn’t face, not even the Strongest Prime.
 
 

Gillidan +dust (neutral still) have left SHB and are moving to B12

[Karl Jak]

End Day 3 - Afternoon

Start Day 3 - Evening (6pm to midnight)