<![CDATA[Omni Archive - The Pale Moors]]> https://omni.zulenka.com/ Thu, 06 Aug 2026 00:05:28 +0000 MyBB <![CDATA[The Sound of Silence]]> https://omni.zulenka.com/showthread.php?tid=5582 Wed, 20 Jun 2018 01:50:30 +0000 Albert Wesker]]> https://omni.zulenka.com/showthread.php?tid=5582 Some kind of...of demon. Or vampire. Or...or something!

The captured man struggled only for a moment, sucking in a breath to ready himself to put up as much of a fight as he could -- he wasn't exactly a soldier, just a man who'd been in this town for way too damn long to exist without some fire in his blood and steel in his bones. He wasn't a warrior, by any means, but he was a fighter!

All thought of resisting or putting up an actual fight fled from him when the first blow struck home.

He pushed away, freeing himself from the vice-like grip on his shoulder, and whirled around to face his attacker, only to be met with a gloved hand crashing into his chin. The empty palm hit with with a solid smack and threw his head backward, and his body snapped forward again only a split second later as a knee lodged itself in his gut with what had to be the force of a cannonball. He wheezed out all the breath he'd caught, staggering back with hands curled around his gut.

Stars danced across his vision as an elbow slammed into his ear, and thunder rumbled in his head in tune with the deafening crash from overhead as an open palm grasped the back of his head. His world went white as his face was driven into the ground, only the dull crunch of impact echoing in his head.

Dizzy, and barely aware of what had just happened, he just groaned as fingers grasped the soaking wet collar of his jacket, and hauled him up off the ground. "Now, then...as I said." The voice was smooth, despite the vicious assault its owner had just doled out. "...I wish to have a word with you."

As he tried to draw enough breath to manage a response, a gloved hand closed around his throat, choking the airflow off. "You won't need to say anything. I never said this would be a conversation. You, my friend..." The man in black hauled his prey further up, releasing the back of his jacket and simply tightening the grip on the poor soul's neck. "...don't need to worry. You'll tell me everything I want to know."

As he hung there, hands scrabbling and grabbing at the iron grip around his throat, the man gurgled breathlessly. Half-formed grunts and words, a mangled attempt to ask for mercy or curse at his attacker, all spewed forth into the rain.

But they slowly died off, growing quieter as even his last few gasps of air were spent. He renewed his struggles and effort, kicking and clawing, silently screaming and thrashing. His mind screamed for air...!

...then it screamed for a different reason. Pain.

"You're going to tell me everything you know...about Oswell E. Spencer. His associates. And Silent Hill."

It spread out from his neck. Little lines, curling and slicing down. Across his torso, then to his limbs. Up his neck, over his face and around his head. Hair-thin strands of molten agony, growing worse and worse, spreading and wrapping further and further around him. His eyes went wide, bulging as his ground his teeth. One good breath, so he could clear his foggy mind and land a clear blow...!

Then he saw the colors. Shimmering and sparkling. A white glow, masked by the dark and the rain, and all the colors of the rainbow. Faintly shining, shimmering, rippling across the ground and nearby walls. It grew more pronounced and clear, and worst of all, the pain started to lessen. It went from unbearable agony, trailing off into...into nothing.

There was...there was...

Light. Colors. Lightning...all white.

What was...?


Albert Wesker strode slowly out of the alley, hand slowly curling into a fist around a last few dregs of omnilium. "Information never came quite so easily, before..." he mused, lifting both hands to adjust his long coat. "I suppose I really should thank you, Omni."


Quote:Beginning work toward 'A Gate in the Moors' quest.
Post Word Count: 660 // Total Word Count: 660
Post Character Count: 3,674 // Total Character Count: 3,674
]]> Some kind of...of demon. Or vampire. Or...or something!

The captured man struggled only for a moment, sucking in a breath to ready himself to put up as much of a fight as he could -- he wasn't exactly a soldier, just a man who'd been in this town for way too damn long to exist without some fire in his blood and steel in his bones. He wasn't a warrior, by any means, but he was a fighter!

All thought of resisting or putting up an actual fight fled from him when the first blow struck home.

He pushed away, freeing himself from the vice-like grip on his shoulder, and whirled around to face his attacker, only to be met with a gloved hand crashing into his chin. The empty palm hit with with a solid smack and threw his head backward, and his body snapped forward again only a split second later as a knee lodged itself in his gut with what had to be the force of a cannonball. He wheezed out all the breath he'd caught, staggering back with hands curled around his gut.

Stars danced across his vision as an elbow slammed into his ear, and thunder rumbled in his head in tune with the deafening crash from overhead as an open palm grasped the back of his head. His world went white as his face was driven into the ground, only the dull crunch of impact echoing in his head.

Dizzy, and barely aware of what had just happened, he just groaned as fingers grasped the soaking wet collar of his jacket, and hauled him up off the ground. "Now, then...as I said." The voice was smooth, despite the vicious assault its owner had just doled out. "...I wish to have a word with you."

As he tried to draw enough breath to manage a response, a gloved hand closed around his throat, choking the airflow off. "You won't need to say anything. I never said this would be a conversation. You, my friend..." The man in black hauled his prey further up, releasing the back of his jacket and simply tightening the grip on the poor soul's neck. "...don't need to worry. You'll tell me everything I want to know."

As he hung there, hands scrabbling and grabbing at the iron grip around his throat, the man gurgled breathlessly. Half-formed grunts and words, a mangled attempt to ask for mercy or curse at his attacker, all spewed forth into the rain.

But they slowly died off, growing quieter as even his last few gasps of air were spent. He renewed his struggles and effort, kicking and clawing, silently screaming and thrashing. His mind screamed for air...!

...then it screamed for a different reason. Pain.

"You're going to tell me everything you know...about Oswell E. Spencer. His associates. And Silent Hill."

It spread out from his neck. Little lines, curling and slicing down. Across his torso, then to his limbs. Up his neck, over his face and around his head. Hair-thin strands of molten agony, growing worse and worse, spreading and wrapping further and further around him. His eyes went wide, bulging as his ground his teeth. One good breath, so he could clear his foggy mind and land a clear blow...!

Then he saw the colors. Shimmering and sparkling. A white glow, masked by the dark and the rain, and all the colors of the rainbow. Faintly shining, shimmering, rippling across the ground and nearby walls. It grew more pronounced and clear, and worst of all, the pain started to lessen. It went from unbearable agony, trailing off into...into nothing.

There was...there was...

Light. Colors. Lightning...all white.

What was...?


Albert Wesker strode slowly out of the alley, hand slowly curling into a fist around a last few dregs of omnilium. "Information never came quite so easily, before..." he mused, lifting both hands to adjust his long coat. "I suppose I really should thank you, Omni."


Quote:Beginning work toward 'A Gate in the Moors' quest.
Post Word Count: 660 // Total Word Count: 660
Post Character Count: 3,674 // Total Character Count: 3,674
]]> <![CDATA[I Dream of Darkshire]]> https://omni.zulenka.com/showthread.php?tid=5904 Sun, 27 May 2018 05:01:02 +0000 Xehanort]]> https://omni.zulenka.com/showthread.php?tid=5904
"Even the realm of darkness is more interesting than this place." Xehanort finally comments upon the appearance of this land, getting a surprised look from Ximche. The old man straightened out, holding out a hand to focus on getting their carriage back up so as to keep them out of the dirt. Once it was back into being, they both enter and it's back along its creaking way. He had it following the most basic of paths, intent on drawing it to the nearby town. Depressing. Dreary.

Yet, even as they approached, Xehanort could feel the sheer POWER of Pale Moors welling up. So many hearts; lost, confused, angry. So many potential Heartless. And so, as the carriage approached, he would seize the weakest and give them the simplest of uses as Shadows. Slipping through cracks, hiding in the darkness cast from the once magnificent buildings. Quiet and stealth, so as to not draw attention. Only watching for now. They weren't the most intelligent, but even the most basic of information would be of use to Xehanort.

As the wheels of the carriage met with the cobblestone streets, he couldn't help but notice how.. empty this place felt. Not for lack of people, but lack of will. As his gaze would rest upon an individual, it was as though looking at the previous person. All of them worn from what the world threw at them, but a ridiculous determination to keep pushing through. It spoke for how resolute humans could be. Or how incredibly stupid they were. Either way, he soon grew weary of the same look in each person's eyes, and turned to gaze upon Ximche.

"Perhaps you should lighten the place a little. Play us a little song?" He muses, a smile cracking on his lips as his carriage rumbled its way down the street slowly. And only a moment later, the bells would start to play a tune.]]>
"Even the realm of darkness is more interesting than this place." Xehanort finally comments upon the appearance of this land, getting a surprised look from Ximche. The old man straightened out, holding out a hand to focus on getting their carriage back up so as to keep them out of the dirt. Once it was back into being, they both enter and it's back along its creaking way. He had it following the most basic of paths, intent on drawing it to the nearby town. Depressing. Dreary.

Yet, even as they approached, Xehanort could feel the sheer POWER of Pale Moors welling up. So many hearts; lost, confused, angry. So many potential Heartless. And so, as the carriage approached, he would seize the weakest and give them the simplest of uses as Shadows. Slipping through cracks, hiding in the darkness cast from the once magnificent buildings. Quiet and stealth, so as to not draw attention. Only watching for now. They weren't the most intelligent, but even the most basic of information would be of use to Xehanort.

As the wheels of the carriage met with the cobblestone streets, he couldn't help but notice how.. empty this place felt. Not for lack of people, but lack of will. As his gaze would rest upon an individual, it was as though looking at the previous person. All of them worn from what the world threw at them, but a ridiculous determination to keep pushing through. It spoke for how resolute humans could be. Or how incredibly stupid they were. Either way, he soon grew weary of the same look in each person's eyes, and turned to gaze upon Ximche.

"Perhaps you should lighten the place a little. Play us a little song?" He muses, a smile cracking on his lips as his carriage rumbled its way down the street slowly. And only a moment later, the bells would start to play a tune.]]> <![CDATA[Home sweet home...]]> https://omni.zulenka.com/showthread.php?tid=7378 Sat, 19 May 2018 17:42:02 +0000 Albert Wesker]]> https://omni.zulenka.com/showthread.php?tid=7378
Nostalgia wasn't something Albert Wesker was given to often, but as he sat there in a chair which he remembered all too clearly, in a room drawn perfectly from his memories...it was difficult not to reminisce at least a little. Not exactly pleasantly, as the times from which he had drawn this place in his mind were not ones he recalled fondly. Not after certain things he had learned from an old, dying man.

But it was familiar. And now it was his.

It had been far from easy to get it all set up. Even after substantial practice, working with this new...omnilium substance. He had summoned, and practiced summong, all manner of things. Even going so far as to gather a loyal band of subordinates whose skills he knew he could count on. Each one individually, and all of their preferred equipment and tools of work, had been a heavy undertaking. A valuable one, to be sure; it had taught him much about the complexity of things and how time-consuming it could all be.

It had all been nothing compared to the task he had undertaken when he had decided to summon this mansion.

Each member of the Wolfpack, each item of their equipment, had taken minutes at a time. Perhaps as much as half an hour each, to properly summon them and their equipment, properly outfitting each one.

This mansion, however... Several hours. It had taken hours to get it right. The complications and interference had not helped matters. The environment was hostile, full of all manner of creatures which most might dub 'nightmarish'. Monstrous, horrific, bloodthirsty and flesh-hungry beasts. Mostly mindless, though some did certainly display intelligence enough to not throw themselves into the meat grinder that was the amply prepared and armed Wolfpack.

The Umbrella Security Service's Delta Team had proven its worth already, with just this seemingly mundane task. Several hours of protection, and holding off the terror of the Verse, had been sufficient. Now they had been rewarded by having sanctuary and shelter in the mansion. Time to rest after the frantic, messy defense, and leave the external security to a more...disposable staff which had been summoned. Combined with the fortified nature of the building itself -- a noted factor in its original summoning time -- they should serve as adequate protection.

Yes...a well-fortified headquarters was always a first step. Or at least the ending of a first step. Learning how this world worked and some of the peculiarities of its inhabitants had been first; setting up a place to call 'home' had been the final part of that, to reflect on and clarify his findings. And of course...a place to story a trophy room was also an excellent touch.

As the lights dimmed upon his exit of the trophy room in question, barren and empty at the moment, Wesker's lips curled upward in a faint smile as he caught the glint of light, filtering through the doorway, on the drake skull that rested in a sealed case. Just the first step of many. Then the door closed behind him, and he strode purposefully down the hallway.

Onto other matters, now.]]>
Nostalgia wasn't something Albert Wesker was given to often, but as he sat there in a chair which he remembered all too clearly, in a room drawn perfectly from his memories...it was difficult not to reminisce at least a little. Not exactly pleasantly, as the times from which he had drawn this place in his mind were not ones he recalled fondly. Not after certain things he had learned from an old, dying man.

But it was familiar. And now it was his.

It had been far from easy to get it all set up. Even after substantial practice, working with this new...omnilium substance. He had summoned, and practiced summong, all manner of things. Even going so far as to gather a loyal band of subordinates whose skills he knew he could count on. Each one individually, and all of their preferred equipment and tools of work, had been a heavy undertaking. A valuable one, to be sure; it had taught him much about the complexity of things and how time-consuming it could all be.

It had all been nothing compared to the task he had undertaken when he had decided to summon this mansion.

Each member of the Wolfpack, each item of their equipment, had taken minutes at a time. Perhaps as much as half an hour each, to properly summon them and their equipment, properly outfitting each one.

This mansion, however... Several hours. It had taken hours to get it right. The complications and interference had not helped matters. The environment was hostile, full of all manner of creatures which most might dub 'nightmarish'. Monstrous, horrific, bloodthirsty and flesh-hungry beasts. Mostly mindless, though some did certainly display intelligence enough to not throw themselves into the meat grinder that was the amply prepared and armed Wolfpack.

The Umbrella Security Service's Delta Team had proven its worth already, with just this seemingly mundane task. Several hours of protection, and holding off the terror of the Verse, had been sufficient. Now they had been rewarded by having sanctuary and shelter in the mansion. Time to rest after the frantic, messy defense, and leave the external security to a more...disposable staff which had been summoned. Combined with the fortified nature of the building itself -- a noted factor in its original summoning time -- they should serve as adequate protection.

Yes...a well-fortified headquarters was always a first step. Or at least the ending of a first step. Learning how this world worked and some of the peculiarities of its inhabitants had been first; setting up a place to call 'home' had been the final part of that, to reflect on and clarify his findings. And of course...a place to story a trophy room was also an excellent touch.

As the lights dimmed upon his exit of the trophy room in question, barren and empty at the moment, Wesker's lips curled upward in a faint smile as he caught the glint of light, filtering through the doorway, on the drake skull that rested in a sealed case. Just the first step of many. Then the door closed behind him, and he strode purposefully down the hallway.

Onto other matters, now.]]> <![CDATA[Raising Hell]]> https://omni.zulenka.com/showthread.php?tid=6441 Wed, 09 May 2018 03:11:25 +0000 Ash]]> https://omni.zulenka.com/showthread.php?tid=6441
She found a beaten path and decided it was as good as any. Either she'd wind up in the fabled Darkshire or the infamous Silent Hill. Only until now did it occur to her how fitting Diablo unload his burden on Pale Moors. If anyone else had been in her way upon falling, she might be doing something incredibly different than waltzing with whispers of thick fog.

The dark grey cotton candy above rumbled in frustration as life lit up the folds. A storm threatened to rain down on her and end her determination. Arguably it only bolded her. She was the storm demon and the thunder was just the drums of war at her back. Lightning sparked across the background and landed on something far into the east. She continued forward, north.

The world around her vaguely reminded her of another deadly forest covered in fog. She even thought she saw bodies swinging from the limbs. A memory swaying into her mind made her smile a wicked grin as she remembered Desman stuttering a question in the Underverse about what it was he saw moving about in the wind. His look of horror when she'd drying delivered the message that they were corpses satisfied her to no end. As she originally thought, he was too soft. Merely another pawn on her table and not a very strong one at that.

He had been plenty useful, of course. He had been a saving grace for her in the Gauntlet of Fire but fell short of any expectations she might have normally encouraged. Spineless as well. He cowered and pleaded, cried for mercy at the first sign of disturbance when the ultramarine dropped down. Before that even. He had paid off his debt to her by showing her the power of fusion, she'd have to put some effort into learning that trick later.

She slid The Red Devil's Quill out of her long slender sock, letting the light of another random bolt catch in the metal.

Without Desman she wasn't sure if she would have been able to collect so much data or even resources. Would she have gotten out of there so quickly? Who can say? She would have had ten times more fun if he'd kept his nose out of her business. So what was the trade? Memories, or experience?

No use in playing with the choices now.

Ash twirled The Quill about in her fingers as she considered what to do with all her knowledge? Cause complete chaos in the mind of those who feared the banishing circles? "It was so easy to escape a man-child could do it with the right straws drawn." She said to herself, practicing for her made-up speech. Then she laughed to herself. The likelihood that anyone would ask her any details were laughable. The only people who knew had been the Empire and his men.

...And Desman.

She was now curious how he'd managed that. He had never told her. Now's a bit late for those questions, isn't it?

Not like that information was worth much.



Or was it?



".... it's coming..."



Ash twisted around in the fog, her skirt and coat tails lift and sweep across the air while her tail curled closer. She was already gripping the dagger in her left hand and charging lightning in the palm of her right. She is met only with made-up faces she could faintly see in the remanence of fog.  That and a single bouncing light. Very quickly she heard the hoof prints of a horse and the clattering of an old carriage. She stared a moment longer, the horse-drawn carriage coming ever closer and rather quickly.

Where she'd been barely able to find a path through the tree-littered forest, a full sized cab drawn by a single black horse pulled to a stop. At the reigns, a tall figure with his coat collar popped up high and his elongated tall top hat pulled down over his ears so that it was impossible to see his face. Ash could feel his eyes staring into her though, and absently she put her hand over her heart where the mark of Diablo had been bare before.

Never the shy type, Ash smiled sweetly. "Hey there. Got room for a passenger in there?" Her natural charm appeared as smoothly as ever.

She was met with silence, or at least as much silence as the weather was willing to give them. A crack of thunder sounded, so close it vibrated her diaphragm. A moment later lightning lit up the area behind the driver, casting darker shadows around his form. It was poetic and exhilarating.

The driver, without a sound, motioned with his gloved hand to get in as the first specks of water began to fall from the sky.

Not to be rude, especially after he asked, The Storm Demon moved towards the cab. It was as black as the horse, maybe even darker. It was smooth and shiny, cold to her touch. It was metal like a car, but without rivets in the folds. She went to grab the handle of the door when the fancy silver arm dipped down and unlatched from the frame. Slowly it creaked open. She looked up expecting someone, but there was no one.

Of course, there wasn't.

The inside was detailed in a rich beautiful dark blue. Instantly she thought of her own blood. Ash couldn't remember when it no longer flowed in the usual deep crimson she'd seen all her life, but it was one of the last things that set her apart from her sister. Along with the rest of the world.

The seats were two long benches that stretched from end to end of the interior. They had a matching back, dark wood frames, clawed feet balancing on clear crystal spheres sat on soft, lush grey carpet. The buttons that pierced the seats were silver and looked like different seals from very distant worlds. She looked over at the waving lantern on the side of the cab, back at the driver. Curious about who he was and what this was about, but before she could say anything heavier raindrops smacked against her horns.

Rain didn't bother her if anything it only made things harder to grab. Even now that was such a silly reason to dislike it because she had The Red Devil's Claw also. However, something told her she couldn't ask too many questions while the driver waited in the rain. Ash climbed onto the first step before trying to shake off dirt from the bottom of her shoes, not wanting to dirty up the impeccable interior any more than she needed to. The bruised colored woman climbed in and slid into the back seat. Behind her the door already came to a soft close.

Ash heard the leather beat snap and slowly the horse began to pull its burden onward.]]>
She found a beaten path and decided it was as good as any. Either she'd wind up in the fabled Darkshire or the infamous Silent Hill. Only until now did it occur to her how fitting Diablo unload his burden on Pale Moors. If anyone else had been in her way upon falling, she might be doing something incredibly different than waltzing with whispers of thick fog.

The dark grey cotton candy above rumbled in frustration as life lit up the folds. A storm threatened to rain down on her and end her determination. Arguably it only bolded her. She was the storm demon and the thunder was just the drums of war at her back. Lightning sparked across the background and landed on something far into the east. She continued forward, north.

The world around her vaguely reminded her of another deadly forest covered in fog. She even thought she saw bodies swinging from the limbs. A memory swaying into her mind made her smile a wicked grin as she remembered Desman stuttering a question in the Underverse about what it was he saw moving about in the wind. His look of horror when she'd drying delivered the message that they were corpses satisfied her to no end. As she originally thought, he was too soft. Merely another pawn on her table and not a very strong one at that.

He had been plenty useful, of course. He had been a saving grace for her in the Gauntlet of Fire but fell short of any expectations she might have normally encouraged. Spineless as well. He cowered and pleaded, cried for mercy at the first sign of disturbance when the ultramarine dropped down. Before that even. He had paid off his debt to her by showing her the power of fusion, she'd have to put some effort into learning that trick later.

She slid The Red Devil's Quill out of her long slender sock, letting the light of another random bolt catch in the metal.

Without Desman she wasn't sure if she would have been able to collect so much data or even resources. Would she have gotten out of there so quickly? Who can say? She would have had ten times more fun if he'd kept his nose out of her business. So what was the trade? Memories, or experience?

No use in playing with the choices now.

Ash twirled The Quill about in her fingers as she considered what to do with all her knowledge? Cause complete chaos in the mind of those who feared the banishing circles? "It was so easy to escape a man-child could do it with the right straws drawn." She said to herself, practicing for her made-up speech. Then she laughed to herself. The likelihood that anyone would ask her any details were laughable. The only people who knew had been the Empire and his men.

...And Desman.

She was now curious how he'd managed that. He had never told her. Now's a bit late for those questions, isn't it?

Not like that information was worth much.



Or was it?



".... it's coming..."



Ash twisted around in the fog, her skirt and coat tails lift and sweep across the air while her tail curled closer. She was already gripping the dagger in her left hand and charging lightning in the palm of her right. She is met only with made-up faces she could faintly see in the remanence of fog.  That and a single bouncing light. Very quickly she heard the hoof prints of a horse and the clattering of an old carriage. She stared a moment longer, the horse-drawn carriage coming ever closer and rather quickly.

Where she'd been barely able to find a path through the tree-littered forest, a full sized cab drawn by a single black horse pulled to a stop. At the reigns, a tall figure with his coat collar popped up high and his elongated tall top hat pulled down over his ears so that it was impossible to see his face. Ash could feel his eyes staring into her though, and absently she put her hand over her heart where the mark of Diablo had been bare before.

Never the shy type, Ash smiled sweetly. "Hey there. Got room for a passenger in there?" Her natural charm appeared as smoothly as ever.

She was met with silence, or at least as much silence as the weather was willing to give them. A crack of thunder sounded, so close it vibrated her diaphragm. A moment later lightning lit up the area behind the driver, casting darker shadows around his form. It was poetic and exhilarating.

The driver, without a sound, motioned with his gloved hand to get in as the first specks of water began to fall from the sky.

Not to be rude, especially after he asked, The Storm Demon moved towards the cab. It was as black as the horse, maybe even darker. It was smooth and shiny, cold to her touch. It was metal like a car, but without rivets in the folds. She went to grab the handle of the door when the fancy silver arm dipped down and unlatched from the frame. Slowly it creaked open. She looked up expecting someone, but there was no one.

Of course, there wasn't.

The inside was detailed in a rich beautiful dark blue. Instantly she thought of her own blood. Ash couldn't remember when it no longer flowed in the usual deep crimson she'd seen all her life, but it was one of the last things that set her apart from her sister. Along with the rest of the world.

The seats were two long benches that stretched from end to end of the interior. They had a matching back, dark wood frames, clawed feet balancing on clear crystal spheres sat on soft, lush grey carpet. The buttons that pierced the seats were silver and looked like different seals from very distant worlds. She looked over at the waving lantern on the side of the cab, back at the driver. Curious about who he was and what this was about, but before she could say anything heavier raindrops smacked against her horns.

Rain didn't bother her if anything it only made things harder to grab. Even now that was such a silly reason to dislike it because she had The Red Devil's Claw also. However, something told her she couldn't ask too many questions while the driver waited in the rain. Ash climbed onto the first step before trying to shake off dirt from the bottom of her shoes, not wanting to dirty up the impeccable interior any more than she needed to. The bruised colored woman climbed in and slid into the back seat. Behind her the door already came to a soft close.

Ash heard the leather beat snap and slowly the horse began to pull its burden onward.]]> <![CDATA[dimmed.]]> https://omni.zulenka.com/showthread.php?tid=5749 Thu, 01 Mar 2018 12:12:00 +0000 Touko Fukawa]]> https://omni.zulenka.com/showthread.php?tid=5749
God knew Fukawa probably needed some sort of... seat belt. Helmet. Anything. She was convinced she would be thrown from this scooter and killed instantly any second now. But for some reason the threat of death felt so near and, well, not exactly dear, but ingrained in her psyche, to her she really... had trouble caring. Not that she didn't understand the concept of death, but rather that she understood it so well it had lost some impact.

...She wasn't sure that was a good thing.

But even though she had closed her eyes tightly for the ride, she could certainly feel when the scooter crossed over into the Moors. The impact of tires against now hardly-paved road compared to the entirely flat ground of the Nexus hit her like a swift punch in the chest. Well, more dull than a punch- rather, more like being caught in an explosion, which she hated to admit having enough experience with for the comparison. Thankfully, as she wobbled somewhat, trying to regain her balance, the driver of the vehicle slowed down- bringing the vehicle to a stop at the side of the road.

"We're here." Stated the young man she was travelling with, taking just a quick glance(? it was debatable if it could be called that, with his eyes closed) back at his passenger.

"...Y-you don't say..." Fukawa was grumbling mostly to herself, though she opened her eyes to investigate the world around her now. Yeah, it certainly was different- overcast and dull, with rolling hills mostly devoid of human interference. It... Honestly didn't look like anywhere she could place. But at least it looked real, right? That was some improvement from whatever big white building they were in before.

Once again the only evidence of human life seemed to be on the horizon- what may have been some sort of town or at least settlement in the distance. It didn't exactly seem like any sort of sprawling city or anything, certainly not the most modern place, but... Once again, she told herself, it was better than nothing. It was always better than nothing. At least if there were people there she may not, y'know, starve to death.

Not that she was too worried about that- it took longer than one would think.

"Hmph... Not... Sure what I expected..." Fukawa bit her thumb again, glancing at the semi-paved ground below. Yeah, this was about as shitty as she should have been expecting. There was no reason to be optimistic with the description she was given before. "I... I guess I don't blame you for choosing such a gloomy place f-for... someone like me..." Again, this last part was loud enough Leo could hear it, but seemingly not directed at him- more just directed at the situation in general.

Fukawa seemed to talk to herself a lot.

Quote:alrightyyyyy here we are, in the moors,

just went ahead and had leo have one (1) completely nondescript line to speed things along, hopefully that's alright
]]>
God knew Fukawa probably needed some sort of... seat belt. Helmet. Anything. She was convinced she would be thrown from this scooter and killed instantly any second now. But for some reason the threat of death felt so near and, well, not exactly dear, but ingrained in her psyche, to her she really... had trouble caring. Not that she didn't understand the concept of death, but rather that she understood it so well it had lost some impact.

...She wasn't sure that was a good thing.

But even though she had closed her eyes tightly for the ride, she could certainly feel when the scooter crossed over into the Moors. The impact of tires against now hardly-paved road compared to the entirely flat ground of the Nexus hit her like a swift punch in the chest. Well, more dull than a punch- rather, more like being caught in an explosion, which she hated to admit having enough experience with for the comparison. Thankfully, as she wobbled somewhat, trying to regain her balance, the driver of the vehicle slowed down- bringing the vehicle to a stop at the side of the road.

"We're here." Stated the young man she was travelling with, taking just a quick glance(? it was debatable if it could be called that, with his eyes closed) back at his passenger.

"...Y-you don't say..." Fukawa was grumbling mostly to herself, though she opened her eyes to investigate the world around her now. Yeah, it certainly was different- overcast and dull, with rolling hills mostly devoid of human interference. It... Honestly didn't look like anywhere she could place. But at least it looked real, right? That was some improvement from whatever big white building they were in before.

Once again the only evidence of human life seemed to be on the horizon- what may have been some sort of town or at least settlement in the distance. It didn't exactly seem like any sort of sprawling city or anything, certainly not the most modern place, but... Once again, she told herself, it was better than nothing. It was always better than nothing. At least if there were people there she may not, y'know, starve to death.

Not that she was too worried about that- it took longer than one would think.

"Hmph... Not... Sure what I expected..." Fukawa bit her thumb again, glancing at the semi-paved ground below. Yeah, this was about as shitty as she should have been expecting. There was no reason to be optimistic with the description she was given before. "I... I guess I don't blame you for choosing such a gloomy place f-for... someone like me..." Again, this last part was loud enough Leo could hear it, but seemingly not directed at him- more just directed at the situation in general.

Fukawa seemed to talk to herself a lot.

Quote:alrightyyyyy here we are, in the moors,

just went ahead and had leo have one (1) completely nondescript line to speed things along, hopefully that's alright
]]> <![CDATA[Out of the frying pan...]]> https://omni.zulenka.com/showthread.php?tid=5223 Mon, 26 Feb 2018 10:15:36 +0000 Albert Wesker]]> https://omni.zulenka.com/showthread.php?tid=5223
Not a small task, but after trekking across the blasted lands and helping avert many unpleasant encounters with the local wildlife, among other tasks, he had slowly wormed his way into gaining a place among them. The grudging tolerance gradually gave way to acceptance, and then lost all traces of its former hostility and suspicion. Anyone who would walk with them, with no real reason other than professed gratitude for shelter at an inopportune time for traveling, couldn't be all bad.

The poor, deluded little creatures...rocks for brains, they must have had. So easy to slip right in among them, and gain a steady source of reliable information, and shelter, if he should ever return to that ashen wasteland again.

Upon reaching their destination, they had been quick to joyously set up their dwellings again. In an underground cavern this time, where it was much cooler and there was abundant water from an underground river that burst through a wall. It formed a broad, shallow pool, draining through cracks in a shadowy wall far off. The entire affair was lit surprisingly well by growths of crystal jutting from the walls and ceiling overhead, glowing in hues of green and blue. It gave the place an eerie glow, especially when the deep red blaze of Goron lanterns was introduced to the fray.

A day of rest and recovery passed, before the Umbrella executive decided it was time to continue on his road. He took ample time to collect and store his gathered notes and information, memorizing and deleting what he could. The less of it he actively carried, the less of it he could lose in the event of some unforeseen strike of chaos. His supplies and equipment were seen to next, repairing his attire and procuring a fresh set for when he had exited this gods-forsaken volcano-scape. Finally, it came time for directions: back to the gate he had used to arrive here in the first place.

Directions were hard to come by, with such an indistinct horizon to follow, as the Gorons told him. But they provided him with an item that should be of assistance. A compass, of sturdy Goron manufacture. Calibrated and tweaked to hold steady and true, even in this chaotic landscape. The constant upheavals of land and rearrangement of subtle magnetic fields wouldn't disturb it. It was honed in to always point toward Death Mountain; at one point because it had been their home, now because it was a place to avoid at all costs. That, and...it was still a good landmark.

With the needle pointing toward Death Mountain assuming North, the gate back to the Nexus would be South-Southwest.

Those directions firmly in mind, he departed from the company of the burly boulder people, taking with him only the compass he'd been given and a single other item; a trophy, fashioned from a drake's skull. Somewhat ostentatious and...morbid, but it was an amusing specimen to have, given what his original plans had been. He would find a purpose for it, that was of no doubt.

The trek toward the gate was...as unpleasant as going anywhere else among the lava fields were. Countless hours, which stretched into a day and more, of frantic scrambling and marching over the blackened, cracked world. A huge fissure in the earth presented an irritatingly massive obstacle, taking nearly a full day to manage getting around it. Beyond there, the journey to the gate was uneventful, aside from its pervasive unpleasantness.

Leaving the Ashen Steppes behind him and returning to the blank expanse of the Nexus was a breath of fresh air -- literally as well as figuratively. Several minutes were simply spent relishing in the far more bearable temperature, before beginning the process of summoning another vehicle to get them underway, and offer some privacy so that he could begin changing into his newly-repaired uniform. Much more sturdy and suited to traveling and field work, this time. His usual suit and formal wear would need to wait until he had a place better suited to long-term habitation and settling into.

"So tell me, boss...where exactly are we headed to now?" The voice of Agent HUNK snapped the despoiled god out of his wandering thoughts and back to the present. "Hopefully somewhere less face-meltingly awful. I'd like to leave the lava to the cheesy movie deathtraps and ancient temples."

"Perhaps we should simple choose the most foreboding exit from this...Nexus," Wesker mused, carefully cleaning the dust and lingering ash from his sunglasses. "...see what fresh new adventure it will lead us to."

"Actively go looking for trouble," HUNK stated dryly. "There's no way that could go wrong."

"Well, I suppose we'll just have to see, won't we?" There was a faint smile on the face of the crazed would-be-deity as he slowly slid his shades into place over his eyes. "Maybe if we actively look for trouble, we'll find something much less life-threatening, hmm?"

"...yeah. Maybe." The security officer's tone spoke volumes about his thoughts on the subject, as he directed the summoned conveyance at a pace somewhere just below 'as fast as it could physically go' through the Nexus, cutting a path right toward the absolute shittiest of the gates he could make out. Old stone, all worn out and depressed looking; covered in moss and unnatural growths of plant-life in colors too dark, dead and gray to ever be natural. Aside from the one busy looking like the devil's smoking pipe, it seemed the most likely to ratchet the 'this sucks' dial up the highest.]]>
Not a small task, but after trekking across the blasted lands and helping avert many unpleasant encounters with the local wildlife, among other tasks, he had slowly wormed his way into gaining a place among them. The grudging tolerance gradually gave way to acceptance, and then lost all traces of its former hostility and suspicion. Anyone who would walk with them, with no real reason other than professed gratitude for shelter at an inopportune time for traveling, couldn't be all bad.

The poor, deluded little creatures...rocks for brains, they must have had. So easy to slip right in among them, and gain a steady source of reliable information, and shelter, if he should ever return to that ashen wasteland again.

Upon reaching their destination, they had been quick to joyously set up their dwellings again. In an underground cavern this time, where it was much cooler and there was abundant water from an underground river that burst through a wall. It formed a broad, shallow pool, draining through cracks in a shadowy wall far off. The entire affair was lit surprisingly well by growths of crystal jutting from the walls and ceiling overhead, glowing in hues of green and blue. It gave the place an eerie glow, especially when the deep red blaze of Goron lanterns was introduced to the fray.

A day of rest and recovery passed, before the Umbrella executive decided it was time to continue on his road. He took ample time to collect and store his gathered notes and information, memorizing and deleting what he could. The less of it he actively carried, the less of it he could lose in the event of some unforeseen strike of chaos. His supplies and equipment were seen to next, repairing his attire and procuring a fresh set for when he had exited this gods-forsaken volcano-scape. Finally, it came time for directions: back to the gate he had used to arrive here in the first place.

Directions were hard to come by, with such an indistinct horizon to follow, as the Gorons told him. But they provided him with an item that should be of assistance. A compass, of sturdy Goron manufacture. Calibrated and tweaked to hold steady and true, even in this chaotic landscape. The constant upheavals of land and rearrangement of subtle magnetic fields wouldn't disturb it. It was honed in to always point toward Death Mountain; at one point because it had been their home, now because it was a place to avoid at all costs. That, and...it was still a good landmark.

With the needle pointing toward Death Mountain assuming North, the gate back to the Nexus would be South-Southwest.

Those directions firmly in mind, he departed from the company of the burly boulder people, taking with him only the compass he'd been given and a single other item; a trophy, fashioned from a drake's skull. Somewhat ostentatious and...morbid, but it was an amusing specimen to have, given what his original plans had been. He would find a purpose for it, that was of no doubt.

The trek toward the gate was...as unpleasant as going anywhere else among the lava fields were. Countless hours, which stretched into a day and more, of frantic scrambling and marching over the blackened, cracked world. A huge fissure in the earth presented an irritatingly massive obstacle, taking nearly a full day to manage getting around it. Beyond there, the journey to the gate was uneventful, aside from its pervasive unpleasantness.

Leaving the Ashen Steppes behind him and returning to the blank expanse of the Nexus was a breath of fresh air -- literally as well as figuratively. Several minutes were simply spent relishing in the far more bearable temperature, before beginning the process of summoning another vehicle to get them underway, and offer some privacy so that he could begin changing into his newly-repaired uniform. Much more sturdy and suited to traveling and field work, this time. His usual suit and formal wear would need to wait until he had a place better suited to long-term habitation and settling into.

"So tell me, boss...where exactly are we headed to now?" The voice of Agent HUNK snapped the despoiled god out of his wandering thoughts and back to the present. "Hopefully somewhere less face-meltingly awful. I'd like to leave the lava to the cheesy movie deathtraps and ancient temples."

"Perhaps we should simple choose the most foreboding exit from this...Nexus," Wesker mused, carefully cleaning the dust and lingering ash from his sunglasses. "...see what fresh new adventure it will lead us to."

"Actively go looking for trouble," HUNK stated dryly. "There's no way that could go wrong."

"Well, I suppose we'll just have to see, won't we?" There was a faint smile on the face of the crazed would-be-deity as he slowly slid his shades into place over his eyes. "Maybe if we actively look for trouble, we'll find something much less life-threatening, hmm?"

"...yeah. Maybe." The security officer's tone spoke volumes about his thoughts on the subject, as he directed the summoned conveyance at a pace somewhere just below 'as fast as it could physically go' through the Nexus, cutting a path right toward the absolute shittiest of the gates he could make out. Old stone, all worn out and depressed looking; covered in moss and unnatural growths of plant-life in colors too dark, dead and gray to ever be natural. Aside from the one busy looking like the devil's smoking pipe, it seemed the most likely to ratchet the 'this sucks' dial up the highest.]]> <![CDATA[Spooky Scary [#VIOLENCE]]]> https://omni.zulenka.com/showthread.php?tid=7177 Tue, 16 Jan 2018 03:52:29 +0000 Essent Rose Allison]]> https://omni.zulenka.com/showthread.php?tid=7177
"Man. Spooky, much?"

Well, she didn't want to go back just as she arrived. At least not now. She needs time to learn about this verse. Step by step, Essent walked through the seemingly abandoned town. She saw some folk running about. And by running I mean walking.

"Man, what happened here? It's like a ghost town," she thought aloud to herself.

She placed her hands in her lab coat's pockets and began to whistle a tune as she walked through town. Some of the remaining folk looked at her as if she was expected to be here. She felt their stares going up and down her body. It was unsettling for her. Thing is, she's been through scarier. Sort of. She's not really into horror-horror as much as she is body horror. But all Essent can do is just walk... Maybe she can come across someone that can assist her.

Just as she thought that, a woman rushed up to her. The other seemed to be in a freak-out frenzy.

"I- My apologies but, you're a Prime. Yes? Please tell me you're one!"

"I am. What's the problem?"

"W-well, I live close to the edge of town a-and... And a bunch of wild wolf beasts were making their way towards us! It's not even nightfall and they decided to attack! You've gotta help us!"

"Miss....?"

"Beverly."

"Beverly. Right. I'll help you out. Just lead the way to where you last saw them."

"R-right! Right. This way!" She took hold of Essent's hand and started to drag her to the east side of town. Essent's feet scampered as she was brought to the location. A few moments later, Essent could heard growling and howling. Seems like they were close.

The woman, Beverly, nodded to Essent and ran back towards where the two came. There was silence throughout the area other than the sounds of wolves and Beverly's footsteps. The young prime called upon her claws...

"Fist of Genetics; Dual Scratch!"

Essent could feel her arms' cells twist and turn just as she called her power. Darker, blacker, her fingers sharper... Her fingers no longer had joints and all that was left were sharp claws. Her arms were then fully black and her hand now with large claws. There was a wolf- A werewolf- who has heard her call and started to charge at her from her right side. Due to it's growl, she heard it ahead of time and managed to scratch it across the chest. The wound wasn't that deep but the attack still hurt it. It's wounded howl alerted a few other werewolves to it's location. The aforementioned group (three, four including the one Essent attacked), made their way into Essent's sight. Their feral instincts kicked in and they went in for the attack.

Essent jumped out of the way of one's lunge but bumped into another who then tried to scratch her. It did, but only her clothing.

"Aw man, come on! That's a fresh set of clothing!"

Once she snapped back into reality after her blurt-out, she rolled out of the way of another lunge. She jumped onto her feet and scratched at an approaching opponent. Due to the nature and effectiveness of her attack, instead of a straight on scratch, it was a deep stab. The werewolf was fatally wounded and, once off Essent's claws, dropped dead onto the floor. The other werewolves were filled with rage at the loss of their brother. Essent raised a 'finger' and made a motion for them to attack. They all lunged forward at her. She sidestepped to the right, out of the way.

"Too slow!"

She scratched deeply into the back of another werewolf, leaving it incapacitated. The first wolf she encountered jumped right onto her as she got up. She fell flat onto the ground. The wolf tried to bite her head but she avoided each bite, moving her claws to dig deep into the wolf's head.

And then there was one. She shifted the now dead wolf off of her body and lunged at the now lone wolf. It didn't move, mainly out of fear. It could only give into Essent's attack. It was alone at that point, no longer in a pack. This adrenaline rush. The action. This is what Essent's body was craving! She was impaling and stabbing at the wolf she lunged at. The incapacitated one let out a whine. Essent got up and looked to the last alive wolf. She walked towards it, stopped, and lowered her head to look in it's eyes.

"Woof woof." She then sliced through the wolf's neck. That... Was that.

Essent gazed around her, blood on her claws and clothing. She didn't seem jaded by this anymore... At least, according to her morals. This was bad monsters against good. She knows about good monsters, though. She played Undertale. Wait, the last one whined, though. And the one before was struck with fear... She could've...

"AW SHNIKIES."

She reformed her arms back to normal before facepalming.

"I could've pacified one! But nooooo my body as too distracted by the action I was doing. Gosh darn it, Essent, this ISN'T PROTOTYPE! It is NOT an all-you-can-slaughter buffet!"

She banged her head. But as she was distracted punishing herself, a bunch of hiding townsfolk came out and approached her. She snapped back into reality and watched at the folks were giving her thanks. She shook hands, gave hugs... She even talked with the folk, learning more about the place's history.

Geeze, this place needs a makeover. And some saving. But she needs to get stronger, of course. She needs all of her powers back.]]>
"Man. Spooky, much?"

Well, she didn't want to go back just as she arrived. At least not now. She needs time to learn about this verse. Step by step, Essent walked through the seemingly abandoned town. She saw some folk running about. And by running I mean walking.

"Man, what happened here? It's like a ghost town," she thought aloud to herself.

She placed her hands in her lab coat's pockets and began to whistle a tune as she walked through town. Some of the remaining folk looked at her as if she was expected to be here. She felt their stares going up and down her body. It was unsettling for her. Thing is, she's been through scarier. Sort of. She's not really into horror-horror as much as she is body horror. But all Essent can do is just walk... Maybe she can come across someone that can assist her.

Just as she thought that, a woman rushed up to her. The other seemed to be in a freak-out frenzy.

"I- My apologies but, you're a Prime. Yes? Please tell me you're one!"

"I am. What's the problem?"

"W-well, I live close to the edge of town a-and... And a bunch of wild wolf beasts were making their way towards us! It's not even nightfall and they decided to attack! You've gotta help us!"

"Miss....?"

"Beverly."

"Beverly. Right. I'll help you out. Just lead the way to where you last saw them."

"R-right! Right. This way!" She took hold of Essent's hand and started to drag her to the east side of town. Essent's feet scampered as she was brought to the location. A few moments later, Essent could heard growling and howling. Seems like they were close.

The woman, Beverly, nodded to Essent and ran back towards where the two came. There was silence throughout the area other than the sounds of wolves and Beverly's footsteps. The young prime called upon her claws...

"Fist of Genetics; Dual Scratch!"

Essent could feel her arms' cells twist and turn just as she called her power. Darker, blacker, her fingers sharper... Her fingers no longer had joints and all that was left were sharp claws. Her arms were then fully black and her hand now with large claws. There was a wolf- A werewolf- who has heard her call and started to charge at her from her right side. Due to it's growl, she heard it ahead of time and managed to scratch it across the chest. The wound wasn't that deep but the attack still hurt it. It's wounded howl alerted a few other werewolves to it's location. The aforementioned group (three, four including the one Essent attacked), made their way into Essent's sight. Their feral instincts kicked in and they went in for the attack.

Essent jumped out of the way of one's lunge but bumped into another who then tried to scratch her. It did, but only her clothing.

"Aw man, come on! That's a fresh set of clothing!"

Once she snapped back into reality after her blurt-out, she rolled out of the way of another lunge. She jumped onto her feet and scratched at an approaching opponent. Due to the nature and effectiveness of her attack, instead of a straight on scratch, it was a deep stab. The werewolf was fatally wounded and, once off Essent's claws, dropped dead onto the floor. The other werewolves were filled with rage at the loss of their brother. Essent raised a 'finger' and made a motion for them to attack. They all lunged forward at her. She sidestepped to the right, out of the way.

"Too slow!"

She scratched deeply into the back of another werewolf, leaving it incapacitated. The first wolf she encountered jumped right onto her as she got up. She fell flat onto the ground. The wolf tried to bite her head but she avoided each bite, moving her claws to dig deep into the wolf's head.

And then there was one. She shifted the now dead wolf off of her body and lunged at the now lone wolf. It didn't move, mainly out of fear. It could only give into Essent's attack. It was alone at that point, no longer in a pack. This adrenaline rush. The action. This is what Essent's body was craving! She was impaling and stabbing at the wolf she lunged at. The incapacitated one let out a whine. Essent got up and looked to the last alive wolf. She walked towards it, stopped, and lowered her head to look in it's eyes.

"Woof woof." She then sliced through the wolf's neck. That... Was that.

Essent gazed around her, blood on her claws and clothing. She didn't seem jaded by this anymore... At least, according to her morals. This was bad monsters against good. She knows about good monsters, though. She played Undertale. Wait, the last one whined, though. And the one before was struck with fear... She could've...

"AW SHNIKIES."

She reformed her arms back to normal before facepalming.

"I could've pacified one! But nooooo my body as too distracted by the action I was doing. Gosh darn it, Essent, this ISN'T PROTOTYPE! It is NOT an all-you-can-slaughter buffet!"

She banged her head. But as she was distracted punishing herself, a bunch of hiding townsfolk came out and approached her. She snapped back into reality and watched at the folks were giving her thanks. She shook hands, gave hugs... She even talked with the folk, learning more about the place's history.

Geeze, this place needs a makeover. And some saving. But she needs to get stronger, of course. She needs all of her powers back.]]> <![CDATA[This Thing Don't Look So Tough]]> https://omni.zulenka.com/showthread.php?tid=7154 Sat, 06 Jan 2018 03:47:20 +0000 China]]> https://omni.zulenka.com/showthread.php?tid=7154 must not disappoint master. He needed her, more than he ever had his first master. Being abandoned by the Archmage had meant being exposed to a world of unknown dangers and horrible scary things... but being abandoned by the Hell Fairy would mean no more shiny lights that made him feel all good inside... and that was clearly far worse.

The thing was, he was now afraid that he already had disappointed her; he had had such difficulty not eating the touchy-feely girl that he hadn't even noticed that Clownpiece (and that evil, mean, nasty friend of hers, who wouldn't be nice even to someone as wonderful as master) had already headed off for the gate without him... what if she thought he preferred the company of Cassa... Sassa... Indra...? He couldn't remember her first name. It was too long, and not made up of nice, simple words like his master's...

Anyway. Given how upset Clownpiece had been by Dane touching the touchy girl, she really might get angry if she saw China also touching her... what if she started thinking that everyone preferred this other person to her?

She might even think that he was as mean and horrible as Dane was! But what could he do about it? He didn't want to yank his hand away from Myst, unless he accidentally broke her... then the Hell Fairy would certainly be upset; with all her magic, his master surely could have easily killed this person herself if she had actually wanted Cassomething dead. The fact that she had not done so could only mean that she must not want to slay her, even though Myst being around seemed to result only in unhappiness for Clownpiece...

Oh yes, his master was such an amazing and kind person... in fact, she was so generous that China felt the sudden urge to make sure that this touchy-feely girl knew just how lucky she was to have been allowed to accompany the Marvellous Clownpiece and her friend, the Great Dane, on their journey.

“You-you so much-many lucky, yes-yes.” he said in a tone as close to a growl as his breathy, whispering voice could produce, whilst turning to look across at Myst, his one remaining eye narrowed. She walked beside him as they followed the others through these cloudy, wet and windy plains. With him no longer needing to try and stand tall to intimidate the fast one, China had reverted to walking on all six limbs, and so at this point he actually had to look up slightly in order to meet the girl's gaze, “Master is many kind-nice for not kill and-and eat such tasty yum-yum as soon as meet-find. So Myst-person better be good and not steal-steal all touch-touching away from master, okay-yes?”

"Oui... Oui Afrátos..." Casanova replied, her voice timid and soft, as she backed away a little, her small hand slipping from his grasp as she finally seemed to realise that he was actually a dangerous hungry person and not just some adorable little prey food for her to play with.

The others could hardly have failed to notice her sudden change in demeanour, or the way she had backed off rather than continue walking forwards, even if they hadn't all heard the words of the Ceramic Beast for themselves. As they had all been within a couple metres of one another, however, even China's quiet voice could travel that distance, despite the rain falling all around them.

Dane turned slowly to face the Ceramic Beast, one hand falling to the shortsword which hung at his side. Before he could speak, however, the Hell Fairy beat him to the punch.

“Sh-shut up, Afrátos! Don't go saying dumb stuff like that! I'm a fairy of Hell! It's not like I really care about silly little things like head pats. Now, c-come over here like a good boy!” his master's cheeks had turned slightly red as she spoke, which China – who knew nothing of embarrassment – could only assume meant she was angry at him... an assumption which was seemingly supported by the volume of her yells.

Cowering more than a little, the Ceramic Beast slunk forwards after Clownpiece, head hanging dejectedly and both tails between his legs... he had only tried to do good, but had instead managed to point out her enjoyment of physical contact to everyone... he had noticed this himself, so he had simply assumed that it was something everyone would know. How moronic of him! It was absurd to think that in the extremely short period of time he had spent in this strange place, he somehow could have forgotten how much more intelligent he was than the two-leg foods.

Of course people as simple-minded as Dane, Casablanca & Renko would never pick up on something that had taken even a brilliant thinker such as himself so long to deduce... and now he had accidentally given up his master's one and only weakness to these untrustworthy people. Dane, especially, seemed like the sort who would be cruel and callous enough to exploit such knowledge however he could.

“Nooo, silly-silly me, why have go say stupid-fool thing like that! Dumb-idiot people all know super hidden secret-secret now... poor master. Me feel-feel so much bad-nasty...” China muttered to himself as he stared glumly at the muddy grass at his feet, not even seeming to realise that he was speaking aloud.

The Great Dane simply rolled his eyes and turned away, starting moving off towards their destination – wherever that was – once again, whilst Renko did her best to innocuously sidle into a position which put the fast one between her and the Ceramic Beast... just to be on the safe side.

As they followed him, China heard a quiet cough from his master and glanced over and up at her; given the long, wet grass and mud through which the rest of them were striding, she had understandably chosen to fly for the time being. He noticed immediately that she was still slightly red-faced, and then spotted the hand that she held outstretched just a little in his direction... as though inviting him to hold it. Tentatively, and after using a tuft of wet grass to clean mud from his palm, he reached over and took that tiny hand in his own, much larger, one. Though she said nothing in response, she did appear to relax a little, which in turn calmed his own fears of being hated by her...

They didn't have much longer left to travel, though, it turned out, with the plains soon being replaced with abandoned fields, and then, a little later, actual fields, which had clearly seen use recently. From one of these the little group crossed over onto a pathway that quickly led them into some sort of walled city.
Had China been able to read, he would have realised that the signpost just a little way outside proclaimed the place to be named 'Darkshire'.]]> must not disappoint master. He needed her, more than he ever had his first master. Being abandoned by the Archmage had meant being exposed to a world of unknown dangers and horrible scary things... but being abandoned by the Hell Fairy would mean no more shiny lights that made him feel all good inside... and that was clearly far worse.

The thing was, he was now afraid that he already had disappointed her; he had had such difficulty not eating the touchy-feely girl that he hadn't even noticed that Clownpiece (and that evil, mean, nasty friend of hers, who wouldn't be nice even to someone as wonderful as master) had already headed off for the gate without him... what if she thought he preferred the company of Cassa... Sassa... Indra...? He couldn't remember her first name. It was too long, and not made up of nice, simple words like his master's...

Anyway. Given how upset Clownpiece had been by Dane touching the touchy girl, she really might get angry if she saw China also touching her... what if she started thinking that everyone preferred this other person to her?

She might even think that he was as mean and horrible as Dane was! But what could he do about it? He didn't want to yank his hand away from Myst, unless he accidentally broke her... then the Hell Fairy would certainly be upset; with all her magic, his master surely could have easily killed this person herself if she had actually wanted Cassomething dead. The fact that she had not done so could only mean that she must not want to slay her, even though Myst being around seemed to result only in unhappiness for Clownpiece...

Oh yes, his master was such an amazing and kind person... in fact, she was so generous that China felt the sudden urge to make sure that this touchy-feely girl knew just how lucky she was to have been allowed to accompany the Marvellous Clownpiece and her friend, the Great Dane, on their journey.

“You-you so much-many lucky, yes-yes.” he said in a tone as close to a growl as his breathy, whispering voice could produce, whilst turning to look across at Myst, his one remaining eye narrowed. She walked beside him as they followed the others through these cloudy, wet and windy plains. With him no longer needing to try and stand tall to intimidate the fast one, China had reverted to walking on all six limbs, and so at this point he actually had to look up slightly in order to meet the girl's gaze, “Master is many kind-nice for not kill and-and eat such tasty yum-yum as soon as meet-find. So Myst-person better be good and not steal-steal all touch-touching away from master, okay-yes?”

"Oui... Oui Afrátos..." Casanova replied, her voice timid and soft, as she backed away a little, her small hand slipping from his grasp as she finally seemed to realise that he was actually a dangerous hungry person and not just some adorable little prey food for her to play with.

The others could hardly have failed to notice her sudden change in demeanour, or the way she had backed off rather than continue walking forwards, even if they hadn't all heard the words of the Ceramic Beast for themselves. As they had all been within a couple metres of one another, however, even China's quiet voice could travel that distance, despite the rain falling all around them.

Dane turned slowly to face the Ceramic Beast, one hand falling to the shortsword which hung at his side. Before he could speak, however, the Hell Fairy beat him to the punch.

“Sh-shut up, Afrátos! Don't go saying dumb stuff like that! I'm a fairy of Hell! It's not like I really care about silly little things like head pats. Now, c-come over here like a good boy!” his master's cheeks had turned slightly red as she spoke, which China – who knew nothing of embarrassment – could only assume meant she was angry at him... an assumption which was seemingly supported by the volume of her yells.

Cowering more than a little, the Ceramic Beast slunk forwards after Clownpiece, head hanging dejectedly and both tails between his legs... he had only tried to do good, but had instead managed to point out her enjoyment of physical contact to everyone... he had noticed this himself, so he had simply assumed that it was something everyone would know. How moronic of him! It was absurd to think that in the extremely short period of time he had spent in this strange place, he somehow could have forgotten how much more intelligent he was than the two-leg foods.

Of course people as simple-minded as Dane, Casablanca & Renko would never pick up on something that had taken even a brilliant thinker such as himself so long to deduce... and now he had accidentally given up his master's one and only weakness to these untrustworthy people. Dane, especially, seemed like the sort who would be cruel and callous enough to exploit such knowledge however he could.

“Nooo, silly-silly me, why have go say stupid-fool thing like that! Dumb-idiot people all know super hidden secret-secret now... poor master. Me feel-feel so much bad-nasty...” China muttered to himself as he stared glumly at the muddy grass at his feet, not even seeming to realise that he was speaking aloud.

The Great Dane simply rolled his eyes and turned away, starting moving off towards their destination – wherever that was – once again, whilst Renko did her best to innocuously sidle into a position which put the fast one between her and the Ceramic Beast... just to be on the safe side.

As they followed him, China heard a quiet cough from his master and glanced over and up at her; given the long, wet grass and mud through which the rest of them were striding, she had understandably chosen to fly for the time being. He noticed immediately that she was still slightly red-faced, and then spotted the hand that she held outstretched just a little in his direction... as though inviting him to hold it. Tentatively, and after using a tuft of wet grass to clean mud from his palm, he reached over and took that tiny hand in his own, much larger, one. Though she said nothing in response, she did appear to relax a little, which in turn calmed his own fears of being hated by her...

They didn't have much longer left to travel, though, it turned out, with the plains soon being replaced with abandoned fields, and then, a little later, actual fields, which had clearly seen use recently. From one of these the little group crossed over onto a pathway that quickly led them into some sort of walled city.
Had China been able to read, he would have realised that the signpost just a little way outside proclaimed the place to be named 'Darkshire'.]]> <![CDATA[A Bright Dawn]]> https://omni.zulenka.com/showthread.php?tid=7127 Thu, 28 Dec 2017 05:30:11 +0000 Ash Williams]]> https://omni.zulenka.com/showthread.php?tid=7127
"I think we won?" Revan said while holding his sword and looking around for anymore Nebula forces.

Ash let out a sigh of relief and put his boomstick back in his holster. Revan did put his sword away and Celestia followed afterward.

Their advanced gauntlets went off with two words filling the screen with green text.

VERSE LIBERATED

"We did it. We finally fuckin did it!" Ash said loudly with victory in his voice and boastfulness about completing the mission.

"Hey, language," Celestia followed in a stern voice but soon a smile was formed on her face, knowing they had saved the Pale Moors.

"Excuse me then, your highness," Ash said in a jokingly tone with his charisma smirk while looking back at Celestia.

Revan felt the excitement in his heart from them surviving and freeing The Pale Moors from Nebula's grasp but his feelings sunken down from realizing they lost their friends on the way. Sombra's death impacted him the most since he was starting to become friends and listening to his ways as if he was a teacher.

"Sombra…" Revan uttered but try to not let his emotions overwhelmed him during their victory.

Celestia heard the word he said and trotted over toward Revan to stand by his side for comfort. She rested her head against his side to comfort him and he suddenly realized the warm contact that her head made against his skin. He stroked her head with a softly touch to try to feel better that he still had his friends that made it out alive. Ash just stood there watching the heart-touching scene but didn't interrupt it as he waited for them to finish. He did hate it that Yu Kanda didn't make it out alive and does put a thought that he would like to meet that prime again. He wished that he made it out alive on this kickass of a journey. A couple minutes passed, and Ash stretched his arms out. He was wanting to go and finally spoke to get their attention.

"Now are we just going to stand here like hippies or are we going to walk out like champs?" Ash questioned, making Revan's and Celestia's attention turn toward Ash who was ready to go.

"Sorry, I got carried away a little," Revan responded, getting over the sorrowfulness and stopped stroking Celestia.

Ash turned away and began walking out of the courtroom as the other two followed him. They walked together to the entrance of the courthouse and opened the double doors with a cool morning breeze coming in. The liberators walked down the steppes and seen before them the aftermath of the battle they won. No sign of corpses was here as if they just vanished from the scene. They continued to walk with confidence down the town's street. A conversation was struck up with the trio, but it was a friendly one. Ash never knew that he would like this sort of team he got paired with but in the end, there was one reward that they received immediately and that was friendship.

The town also felt brighter with no more Nebula life clinging to this remnant village and no smoke was present in the town. All the fires had gone out and the dripping purple vines that held the wooden stakes together were turned back to normal looking vines.

They were curious about what happened to the remaining survivors of Dr. Psyche's dungeon if the poor secondaries made it out alive.

"Where are the survivors you saved, Revan," Celestia spoke with a soft tone right next to him.

"I couldn't tell what happened to them when we were rushed to escape," Revan answered looking back at Celestia with a concerned look.

"Well, maybe they found a backdoor to get out of that place and ended up somewhere in The Pale Moors," Ash stated while looking around to see if they appeared in this town.

Before they got out of town, the morning sun started to rise with a few clouds in the sky but the weather that Ash felt was the brightest weather he ever felt when he came to this rundown verse. They look toward the horizon and see the beautiful morning sunrise before them.

Before they made their way out of town, a group of people at the front gate approached them. The liberators could tell that it was the escaped Dr. Psyche's prisoners. It was good size group but the liberators still didn't know if that was everyone present. Who stood in front of the escapees was an old balding man with white hair and a long beard to go along with the color of his hair. The man's face had wrinkles and appeared that he's been here for a long time in this verse. His eyes were brown and his teeth weren't in bad shape. The height of the man was 5'8 inches and his weight was normal. He held an old wooden cane that helped him walk and wore dirtied clothes just like the rest of everyone.

The liberators met face to face with him but an olden fondly expression appeared on the old man's face.

"Thank you so much for destroying these abominations that took over our precious town. I didn't think no one would ever come out this far in The Pale Moors to discover what happened to our home." the old man said with a tear of happiness that was formed in his eye.

"Well, we were sent by a scientist in Coruscant named Dr. Regal who told us that this verse was in serious danger and we had to stop these creatures who were apart of an organization known as Nebula," Revan said with bravery that was shown from his personality.

"Unfortunately, only three of us survived to complete the mission. Two primes sacrificed their lives to stop Nebula and one had to leave with no choice." Celestia followed, looking up at the old man in a friendly manner.

"All of us are just speechless with our prayers being answered. We can't thank you enough for saving this settlement's future." the old man spoke with thankfulness and praise to the liberators.

"It's ok gramps, no need to get over the top sappy about our help. We normally try to do things like this around here," Ash stated ease the old man's emotion.

"No, you don't understand. Half of our population died or were created into inhuman horrific experiments when we were trapped in that hellish whatever that verse was and we lost all hope until all of us regained that final hope thanks to you, primes. If you folks need a place to rest, feel free walk into this town and we'll be telling generations about your heroic efforts for this town and the verse," the old man ended then reaching out to shake hands with Ash.

Ash grabbed the man's hand with his iron hand and shook it with respect. The town's people were pleased by the sight of primes and cheered for their good deeds. All of them surrounded the liberators and celebrated their victory. After a minute of thanking the primes, they walk back into town but the old man still stood in front of the trio.

"Sorry if I didn't introduce myself earlier since I was caught up in my emotions, my name is Hershel and I'm the mayor of this town named Hillside." Hershel greeted the primes with each friendly smile and handshake.

"Your welcome to stop by anytime you folks want to! All though it will take a long time for this place to heal and I'm guessing Dracula's army is still a thing now." Hershel said with an ecstatic nature to each liberator.

"Thank you so much, mayor. We'll kindly take your offer." Celestia said, welcoming the mayor's friendship.

The liberators all agreed to stay in the town for a little longer to rest up before heading their separate ways.

Hillside didn't come close to the size of Darkshire but it did have an appearance to be a more of a quieter town that doesn't get a whole of attention compared to the main settlement of Darkshire.

"I still can't believe we made it out alive. At first, I didn't think we would get along well but here we are, walking off like a wild west trio that just saved the town from a bunch of bandits," Ash said as the worn out liberators walk back into town with the mayor.

The trio felt tiredness come over them from the hard fights they fought for this verse. They were ready to rest and be refreshed for anything that the Omniverse had to offer them.

"Well, I will say there is something that we valued greatly back in the land where I used to live and that is the power of friendship," Celestia stated fondly about Equestria as they continued to move with ease.

"We probably should get to know each other more about our backgrounds," Revan stated finally opening up toward Ash as his ally.]]>
"I think we won?" Revan said while holding his sword and looking around for anymore Nebula forces.

Ash let out a sigh of relief and put his boomstick back in his holster. Revan did put his sword away and Celestia followed afterward.

Their advanced gauntlets went off with two words filling the screen with green text.

VERSE LIBERATED

"We did it. We finally fuckin did it!" Ash said loudly with victory in his voice and boastfulness about completing the mission.

"Hey, language," Celestia followed in a stern voice but soon a smile was formed on her face, knowing they had saved the Pale Moors.

"Excuse me then, your highness," Ash said in a jokingly tone with his charisma smirk while looking back at Celestia.

Revan felt the excitement in his heart from them surviving and freeing The Pale Moors from Nebula's grasp but his feelings sunken down from realizing they lost their friends on the way. Sombra's death impacted him the most since he was starting to become friends and listening to his ways as if he was a teacher.

"Sombra…" Revan uttered but try to not let his emotions overwhelmed him during their victory.

Celestia heard the word he said and trotted over toward Revan to stand by his side for comfort. She rested her head against his side to comfort him and he suddenly realized the warm contact that her head made against his skin. He stroked her head with a softly touch to try to feel better that he still had his friends that made it out alive. Ash just stood there watching the heart-touching scene but didn't interrupt it as he waited for them to finish. He did hate it that Yu Kanda didn't make it out alive and does put a thought that he would like to meet that prime again. He wished that he made it out alive on this kickass of a journey. A couple minutes passed, and Ash stretched his arms out. He was wanting to go and finally spoke to get their attention.

"Now are we just going to stand here like hippies or are we going to walk out like champs?" Ash questioned, making Revan's and Celestia's attention turn toward Ash who was ready to go.

"Sorry, I got carried away a little," Revan responded, getting over the sorrowfulness and stopped stroking Celestia.

Ash turned away and began walking out of the courtroom as the other two followed him. They walked together to the entrance of the courthouse and opened the double doors with a cool morning breeze coming in. The liberators walked down the steppes and seen before them the aftermath of the battle they won. No sign of corpses was here as if they just vanished from the scene. They continued to walk with confidence down the town's street. A conversation was struck up with the trio, but it was a friendly one. Ash never knew that he would like this sort of team he got paired with but in the end, there was one reward that they received immediately and that was friendship.

The town also felt brighter with no more Nebula life clinging to this remnant village and no smoke was present in the town. All the fires had gone out and the dripping purple vines that held the wooden stakes together were turned back to normal looking vines.

They were curious about what happened to the remaining survivors of Dr. Psyche's dungeon if the poor secondaries made it out alive.

"Where are the survivors you saved, Revan," Celestia spoke with a soft tone right next to him.

"I couldn't tell what happened to them when we were rushed to escape," Revan answered looking back at Celestia with a concerned look.

"Well, maybe they found a backdoor to get out of that place and ended up somewhere in The Pale Moors," Ash stated while looking around to see if they appeared in this town.

Before they got out of town, the morning sun started to rise with a few clouds in the sky but the weather that Ash felt was the brightest weather he ever felt when he came to this rundown verse. They look toward the horizon and see the beautiful morning sunrise before them.

Before they made their way out of town, a group of people at the front gate approached them. The liberators could tell that it was the escaped Dr. Psyche's prisoners. It was good size group but the liberators still didn't know if that was everyone present. Who stood in front of the escapees was an old balding man with white hair and a long beard to go along with the color of his hair. The man's face had wrinkles and appeared that he's been here for a long time in this verse. His eyes were brown and his teeth weren't in bad shape. The height of the man was 5'8 inches and his weight was normal. He held an old wooden cane that helped him walk and wore dirtied clothes just like the rest of everyone.

The liberators met face to face with him but an olden fondly expression appeared on the old man's face.

"Thank you so much for destroying these abominations that took over our precious town. I didn't think no one would ever come out this far in The Pale Moors to discover what happened to our home." the old man said with a tear of happiness that was formed in his eye.

"Well, we were sent by a scientist in Coruscant named Dr. Regal who told us that this verse was in serious danger and we had to stop these creatures who were apart of an organization known as Nebula," Revan said with bravery that was shown from his personality.

"Unfortunately, only three of us survived to complete the mission. Two primes sacrificed their lives to stop Nebula and one had to leave with no choice." Celestia followed, looking up at the old man in a friendly manner.

"All of us are just speechless with our prayers being answered. We can't thank you enough for saving this settlement's future." the old man spoke with thankfulness and praise to the liberators.

"It's ok gramps, no need to get over the top sappy about our help. We normally try to do things like this around here," Ash stated ease the old man's emotion.

"No, you don't understand. Half of our population died or were created into inhuman horrific experiments when we were trapped in that hellish whatever that verse was and we lost all hope until all of us regained that final hope thanks to you, primes. If you folks need a place to rest, feel free walk into this town and we'll be telling generations about your heroic efforts for this town and the verse," the old man ended then reaching out to shake hands with Ash.

Ash grabbed the man's hand with his iron hand and shook it with respect. The town's people were pleased by the sight of primes and cheered for their good deeds. All of them surrounded the liberators and celebrated their victory. After a minute of thanking the primes, they walk back into town but the old man still stood in front of the trio.

"Sorry if I didn't introduce myself earlier since I was caught up in my emotions, my name is Hershel and I'm the mayor of this town named Hillside." Hershel greeted the primes with each friendly smile and handshake.

"Your welcome to stop by anytime you folks want to! All though it will take a long time for this place to heal and I'm guessing Dracula's army is still a thing now." Hershel said with an ecstatic nature to each liberator.

"Thank you so much, mayor. We'll kindly take your offer." Celestia said, welcoming the mayor's friendship.

The liberators all agreed to stay in the town for a little longer to rest up before heading their separate ways.

Hillside didn't come close to the size of Darkshire but it did have an appearance to be a more of a quieter town that doesn't get a whole of attention compared to the main settlement of Darkshire.

"I still can't believe we made it out alive. At first, I didn't think we would get along well but here we are, walking off like a wild west trio that just saved the town from a bunch of bandits," Ash said as the worn out liberators walk back into town with the mayor.

The trio felt tiredness come over them from the hard fights they fought for this verse. They were ready to rest and be refreshed for anything that the Omniverse had to offer them.

"Well, I will say there is something that we valued greatly back in the land where I used to live and that is the power of friendship," Celestia stated fondly about Equestria as they continued to move with ease.

"We probably should get to know each other more about our backgrounds," Revan stated finally opening up toward Ash as his ally.]]> <![CDATA[The Palebloodied]]> https://omni.zulenka.com/showthread.php?tid=6923 Fri, 20 Oct 2017 02:36:05 +0000 Okor]]> https://omni.zulenka.com/showthread.php?tid=6923
Beneath the surface though, its wounds festered. While the devilish drilling machine had long since been dismantled and melted down into fresh blades for those that still stood against the monstrous menace, the tunnels it left in its wake still honeycombed Darkshire beneath the surface. Sewers and derelict basements fed into the twisted passageways, wandering ghouls and starved beasts patrolling its depths.

Unfortunately, they were not the worst thing lurking beneath the gaze of the good people of Darkshire.

The cultist’s blade sank into the ghoul’s neck, gnarled fangs gnashing at the robe-swaddled arm wrapped around its throat. Diseased blood spilled from the wound as its emaciated, twisted form sank to the stone floor, accursed body spasming as the necromantic energy that infused its being was no longer able to sustain its blighted existence. Shaking her head, she stowed the black-drenched blade within her robes, her veins white against her brown skin.

She let out a sigh, remembering when life was different. She couldn’t call it better. Years of her life whiled away in the shining spires of Coruscant, clad in gaudy finery, drunk on the finest wines the hanging gardens of the city could produce, nerves set alight by the latest chemical concoction.

It was different. She did not dare say it was better. One wrong word saw her cast down, parroting her latest companion’s affection for Darkshire. He disappeared not long after. She ran before the net could close around her, friends forgetting her face as quickly as they possibly could. She fled across the nexus, what few possessions she could carry on her person clutched tight.

Within a month, she was just another face in Darkshire’s slums, spending her nights cold and starving beneath a sickly green moon, looming overhead, groaning in torment as the chem-hunger bit deep into her bones, writhing, twisting, tormenting. Every instant was agony, her body betraying her in favour of the alchemical ambrosia she had left behind in the shimmering spires. Just one drop, a single drop, and everything would be alright, she had lied to herself.

She didn’t feel it, now. Disease wracked her frame, cancerous tumours building within her slight figure. It was much the same, except without the false hope: There was nothing she could do to rid herself of it, no magical elixir that would wipe her corruption clean.

“Jess, are you gonna stand around all day, or are you going to get moving?” Keith stood further ahead of her, two gnarled claws topping arms like blighted tree trunks, piggy, red eyes staring out at her from beneath a thoroughly scarred brow. The plagues had eased her pain, but for him, it had given him purpose. A rusted iron maul was slung across his back, stained with the brains and blood of the beasts in their path, a puckered mass of burnt flesh adorning his chest. He was stripped of his strength, his honour, and his hand, and tossed into the ghettos: only the touch of their new lord had given him that which he had lost. Power and pride were his once more, at the simple cost of pestilence.

A shade slid past her, sallow skin over an emaciated frame cloaked by sable cloth, a well-used crossbow slung over slim shoulders. If rumours held true, Damien was the cursed scion of a Noble house from Camelot, a witch’s curse driving him to madness, and into Darkshire. His babbling had ceased since he drunk the bubonic blood of gods, his broken mind stitched together by a thousand parasitical jaws.

Flickering flames beckoned them forth, the trio slipping through a crack in the stone, a seismic scar from the last attempt on Darkshire’s sovereignty. Keith grunted as he struggled to fit his muscled frame through the crack, a scrap of skin scraping away on the jagged rock as he did so. They emerged into a cavern lit with crude braziers, burning charcoal serving precious little purpose but to emphasize the shadows obscuring the faces within jaundiced hoods. There were dozens of others within the grotto, the anonymity granted by their cloaks a mere formality: they each shared the same blood, the same blessing, the same burden, the same back-alley shanties.

The First Among Equals left the incoming trio, Keith’s partially Orcish blood allowing him to stand tall before the assemblage, throwing his arms wide as he stood before them, a smouldering brazier serving to display his scars, infections, blisters, and buboes. “Brothers! Sisters!” He called out, his guttural voice echoing around the cavern, smoke tinged with noxious herbs gathering, rising upwards through cracks, abandoned tunnels, and sewer grates. ”We stand beneath a city! A city, unbroken by the lost and the damned that skulk in the mist outside its walls! A city, bloodied, but unbowed! A city that has cast us down, and exiled us outside of their sight!”

“And it is our city!” He howled, his fellow cultists wordlessly chanting, slamming the hilts of their blades against the cavern floor. ”They are unenlightened, and unscarred! They suffer through this world, and have yet to learn how to harness their pain, and be freed from it!” He raised a twisted blade, using it to tear through his forearm, silent as pale blood seeped from shredded veins, raising it in the air, cursed once-crimson blood flowing down his scarred skin. ”We are the Palebloodied! Strength courses through our veins! Our breath is death, and our touch brings life! With every step, we spread our disease, and our blessing!”

The cultists gave a roar of approval, breathing in the thick atmosphere of brotherhood, toxic fumes, and pestilence one final time before slinking off into the tunnels and sewers, working their way back to what passed for homes: shanties, shacks, and back alley lean-tos.

Only the trio remained in the subterranean temple, each standing around the central brazier, its flame now a dull green, its flickering scarcely illuminating the first three to take up the curse.

”A nice speech,” Jess said, her once-constant twitching reduced to a wary look in her eyes, her nerves now soothed and numbed by her infections.

Keith shrugged, his bloodied wound already starting to seal over, the flow of blood already staunched. ”They need purpose. They need strength. They need a vision.” The half-orc licked his tusked lips, deep in thought.

”Blood,” whispered Damien, breaking his silence, his voice deep despite its volume, pervading the place of worship. ”The blood of gods. We tasted it once before,  and it gave us this. We supped on the flesh of The Vector, and the stuff of Primes only served to strengthen us.”

Keith nodded, turning to his former socialite sister-in-faith. ”Jess, gather a few of the stronger brothers, and keep an eye out for any primes. Take what you can before Omni reclaims their bodies, and bring it to us. Nurgleth knows we'll get more use out of it than they will.”

He leaned forward, gnarled fingers stained with his own blood gripping the edge of the brazier, tusks tainted with disease forming into a grin. ”Tonight, we shall feast on Godling’s flesh.”

The three nodded to each other, going their separate ways. Damien had his own gangrenous gang to run, their eyes and ears spreading throughout darkshire and the swamplands beyond, Keith had a shrine to the Plagued God they had sworn their souls to, his newfound purpose in this life.

And Jess…

She had to kill a Prime.]]>
Beneath the surface though, its wounds festered. While the devilish drilling machine had long since been dismantled and melted down into fresh blades for those that still stood against the monstrous menace, the tunnels it left in its wake still honeycombed Darkshire beneath the surface. Sewers and derelict basements fed into the twisted passageways, wandering ghouls and starved beasts patrolling its depths.

Unfortunately, they were not the worst thing lurking beneath the gaze of the good people of Darkshire.

The cultist’s blade sank into the ghoul’s neck, gnarled fangs gnashing at the robe-swaddled arm wrapped around its throat. Diseased blood spilled from the wound as its emaciated, twisted form sank to the stone floor, accursed body spasming as the necromantic energy that infused its being was no longer able to sustain its blighted existence. Shaking her head, she stowed the black-drenched blade within her robes, her veins white against her brown skin.

She let out a sigh, remembering when life was different. She couldn’t call it better. Years of her life whiled away in the shining spires of Coruscant, clad in gaudy finery, drunk on the finest wines the hanging gardens of the city could produce, nerves set alight by the latest chemical concoction.

It was different. She did not dare say it was better. One wrong word saw her cast down, parroting her latest companion’s affection for Darkshire. He disappeared not long after. She ran before the net could close around her, friends forgetting her face as quickly as they possibly could. She fled across the nexus, what few possessions she could carry on her person clutched tight.

Within a month, she was just another face in Darkshire’s slums, spending her nights cold and starving beneath a sickly green moon, looming overhead, groaning in torment as the chem-hunger bit deep into her bones, writhing, twisting, tormenting. Every instant was agony, her body betraying her in favour of the alchemical ambrosia she had left behind in the shimmering spires. Just one drop, a single drop, and everything would be alright, she had lied to herself.

She didn’t feel it, now. Disease wracked her frame, cancerous tumours building within her slight figure. It was much the same, except without the false hope: There was nothing she could do to rid herself of it, no magical elixir that would wipe her corruption clean.

“Jess, are you gonna stand around all day, or are you going to get moving?” Keith stood further ahead of her, two gnarled claws topping arms like blighted tree trunks, piggy, red eyes staring out at her from beneath a thoroughly scarred brow. The plagues had eased her pain, but for him, it had given him purpose. A rusted iron maul was slung across his back, stained with the brains and blood of the beasts in their path, a puckered mass of burnt flesh adorning his chest. He was stripped of his strength, his honour, and his hand, and tossed into the ghettos: only the touch of their new lord had given him that which he had lost. Power and pride were his once more, at the simple cost of pestilence.

A shade slid past her, sallow skin over an emaciated frame cloaked by sable cloth, a well-used crossbow slung over slim shoulders. If rumours held true, Damien was the cursed scion of a Noble house from Camelot, a witch’s curse driving him to madness, and into Darkshire. His babbling had ceased since he drunk the bubonic blood of gods, his broken mind stitched together by a thousand parasitical jaws.

Flickering flames beckoned them forth, the trio slipping through a crack in the stone, a seismic scar from the last attempt on Darkshire’s sovereignty. Keith grunted as he struggled to fit his muscled frame through the crack, a scrap of skin scraping away on the jagged rock as he did so. They emerged into a cavern lit with crude braziers, burning charcoal serving precious little purpose but to emphasize the shadows obscuring the faces within jaundiced hoods. There were dozens of others within the grotto, the anonymity granted by their cloaks a mere formality: they each shared the same blood, the same blessing, the same burden, the same back-alley shanties.

The First Among Equals left the incoming trio, Keith’s partially Orcish blood allowing him to stand tall before the assemblage, throwing his arms wide as he stood before them, a smouldering brazier serving to display his scars, infections, blisters, and buboes. “Brothers! Sisters!” He called out, his guttural voice echoing around the cavern, smoke tinged with noxious herbs gathering, rising upwards through cracks, abandoned tunnels, and sewer grates. ”We stand beneath a city! A city, unbroken by the lost and the damned that skulk in the mist outside its walls! A city, bloodied, but unbowed! A city that has cast us down, and exiled us outside of their sight!”

“And it is our city!” He howled, his fellow cultists wordlessly chanting, slamming the hilts of their blades against the cavern floor. ”They are unenlightened, and unscarred! They suffer through this world, and have yet to learn how to harness their pain, and be freed from it!” He raised a twisted blade, using it to tear through his forearm, silent as pale blood seeped from shredded veins, raising it in the air, cursed once-crimson blood flowing down his scarred skin. ”We are the Palebloodied! Strength courses through our veins! Our breath is death, and our touch brings life! With every step, we spread our disease, and our blessing!”

The cultists gave a roar of approval, breathing in the thick atmosphere of brotherhood, toxic fumes, and pestilence one final time before slinking off into the tunnels and sewers, working their way back to what passed for homes: shanties, shacks, and back alley lean-tos.

Only the trio remained in the subterranean temple, each standing around the central brazier, its flame now a dull green, its flickering scarcely illuminating the first three to take up the curse.

”A nice speech,” Jess said, her once-constant twitching reduced to a wary look in her eyes, her nerves now soothed and numbed by her infections.

Keith shrugged, his bloodied wound already starting to seal over, the flow of blood already staunched. ”They need purpose. They need strength. They need a vision.” The half-orc licked his tusked lips, deep in thought.

”Blood,” whispered Damien, breaking his silence, his voice deep despite its volume, pervading the place of worship. ”The blood of gods. We tasted it once before,  and it gave us this. We supped on the flesh of The Vector, and the stuff of Primes only served to strengthen us.”

Keith nodded, turning to his former socialite sister-in-faith. ”Jess, gather a few of the stronger brothers, and keep an eye out for any primes. Take what you can before Omni reclaims their bodies, and bring it to us. Nurgleth knows we'll get more use out of it than they will.”

He leaned forward, gnarled fingers stained with his own blood gripping the edge of the brazier, tusks tainted with disease forming into a grin. ”Tonight, we shall feast on Godling’s flesh.”

The three nodded to each other, going their separate ways. Damien had his own gangrenous gang to run, their eyes and ears spreading throughout darkshire and the swamplands beyond, Keith had a shrine to the Plagued God they had sworn their souls to, his newfound purpose in this life.

And Jess…

She had to kill a Prime.]]> <![CDATA[Hogwarts, a History: Revision I]]> https://omni.zulenka.com/showthread.php?tid=6894 Fri, 13 Oct 2017 00:24:45 +0000 Tom Marvolo Riddle]]> https://omni.zulenka.com/showthread.php?tid=6894
Echos of the stone underneath my feet gave way to stairs as a curtain of energy parted before me.

The wards didn’t even question my presence, the various defensive charms didn’t recognize me as anything but the Master. Because how could I be anything other than that? This place was an extension of my very being. It brought low many enemies, but it was my allies that I truly found value in here. Each on a perfectly honed tool. Might and Magic. They bowed to me in my senses like a old expectant whore awaiting the pain and ecstasy of my careful ministrations.

It had been this way for years. Simply was.

A cruel smile played on my lips as a siren song of power rang in my soul. Its taste that was as as intoxicating as the very act of drawing upon True Magic itself. Dark powers waiting like a begging and loyal serpent.

I took a deep breath, not of the power though, but the musk of dust, of books, of knowledge, and of potential.

Code dissolved in my wake completely. I could feel the fractals coalesce into sold matter. In this world after all, will is everything. There were limits though. Power was to expensive. Twist the bosom of reality too hard and it would slap me down like an overly pushy husband, too drunk to keep his balance. The dataverse however… there were certain things only possible there. A single spell could rewrite existence and there I had gained access to a wealth material and knowledge.

It was the under layer, the foundation, the beginning and end of the Omniverse. There was never a question that I would be a Slytherin, but on occasion, places like that verse brought out the eagle in me.

I took a deep breath, it tasted of contentment, of home.

A home that was mine, a place that was- happy?

The world tilted under me as I missed a step, or rather a trick step. I fought keep my balance and caught myself on the next stair up.

What?

I looked down at my plainly missing limb, submerged in stone as if it were nothing but air. Air given gray speckled form. The impossibility of it. The mundanity of it. I had removed those steps before they even had begun. They were never apart of my Hogwarts or the previous one.

My fingers tightened around thirteen and half inches of yew, something sickening sparked in the back of my pages.

Happiness wasn’t unfamiliar to me. Joy and passion were close friends… but like all human emotions I had imbibed, twisted and unmade, they came in flavors. This flavor however was wrong. It was innocent and disoriented. No! Not innocent. Imbecile. Moronic. Defective.

“Weak,” I hissed

It was disgusting in how familiar it was with these walls, how connected they were with it. This flavor did not belong. Diseased. Sickly sweet sweat of a dying child who had partaken to much sugar. Only it was ephemeral. They were of me, but it was not mine. It was not a facade, rather a very real, very authentic emotion. One I knew I would never let myself feel. It was a debasement. The mask had become the face, and the face had tainted the soul.

Hogwarts had been corrupted in a way most repulsive.

Stone turned to liquid held only in place by my will the halls, classrooms and everything else in between gave way to my demands. Here my will was law and nothing stood in my way. Paints fled the portraits, and House Elves who cleaned near invisibly disapparated before a torrent of rage unraveled their cores. I could feel it all. My home was my own and it fled.

They knew that its true master was calling.

What would have taken minutes, too mere moments as geometry reasserted itself in a quavering mess. Only a final door stood between me and my quarry. This one did not heed me like the others. Behind it there were muffle sounds of pleasure, and a shifting hollow wind.

I bore into it with my mind and reached into that which had born it into existence and twisted.

“Open!” I hissed at the door. A low keening was the only prelude to the barrier complying in haste to implode.

Molten metal and wooded ash filled the room like a fog would a valley. A fog carried by  a gale that three the room’s two occupants backwards in a loosely bound tumble of clothes, flesh, a book, tartan and a eerie silver mist.

The silver form caught my eye first. A look of fear passed through the ghost whole, churning its entire body an almost improbably white steel over the pimply mop of a form that was the girl Myrtle Warren.

“Leave,” I snarled. The unspoken threat upon my voice to her eternal existence spurned the spectre into motion. In one frightened fluid motion she bolted through the left hand wall, the only sign of her passage was a light splat of something biological on the floor. The sound was pointed in how it reinforced what may have been the regular happenings of my office.

I traced the room for more change. One large tartan robe, some sort of oblong potioneering device with a cigar attached to it, some herb with a five pronged leaf. Hemp related potentially. Incense. A portrait of a busty woman was partially disrobe and stirring her fingers in places I rather not imagine. At the center of it all was my face, or rather the face of the Caretaker. His pants were around his waist and wand on the ground, vibrating with blue and pink emanations.

Ah.

I raised an eyebrow at the construct, “Coitus, it seems was an ever the evolving mess while I was gone. Not surprising but…” I let the words play on my tongue a bit before giving it some bite, “I never knew that mudblood of a Warren girl was such a slag.”

“Take. That. Back!” It growled out.

I inclined my head, curiosity tugged at my better judgment, “Why?”

“She forgave me! Us!”

I blinked twice as his meaning settled in. “Oh, that’s-” I couldn’t help it, I laughed. A uproariously potent cackle heaved itself through the body and my very pages shudder in humor. Only a fragment of a warning alerted me a sudden danger. Weak human emotion.

A flicker emotions settled over the replica before me, some were correct others were decidedly not. One of them specifically burned in the back of my head that very much did not belong. Rage on behalf of another. Empathy beyond logic, beyond reason. A little was useful, a lot was dangerous. I felt a frown fall upon me, the realization just how extensive that damage was.

The freak had indeed been polluted- it twitched forward, soft coruscates of hot and cold light gave way to something decidedly darker. Emotion thrummed through the room and into my pages. It was the warning I had neither expected nor would have encouraged.

I jerked my arm forward and fell into a lazy dueling stance. My entire body thrummed with a force as  just in time, I caught a blood red curse on the tip of my wand. The ball hovered there almost innocently even as it washed the entire room in deeply enthralling light.

“A barb of Blood Churning?” It was very dark magic powered best by indignation. A painful way to die from what I understood. But what would that mean for me? My blood was ink, my flesh, parchment. It was no threat, or a poor one at most. “…that’s better,” I drawled sardonically.

“But… let me show you how its done,” With that I flicked the captured spell back into nothingness and drew upon my own energies. The reservoir of the entire school pooled into me and into my wand. My mind and words shaped it into wall of pure law, “CRUCIO!”

The invocation tore at my throat, but my veins roared in my ears with power. Each sweet note of the unforgivable curse rang with sultry iridescent maroon bolts of lightning. Each one racing across the creature’s body as its screams burned into higher and higher octaves before a silent horror replaced it. A horror that its lungs could not hope to express. The rest of its body tried until even the twitching ended.

The eyes were nearly vacant when I ended the spell. But as soon as I did its breathing resumed and one of its deadend arms started towards the shattered remains of a wand jerkily. It didn’t matter, that shaft of yew had been destroyed in its grip near the beginning of my first spell.

“W-why?” It sputtered out ink.

I hummed theatrically a bit, tapping my wand to my chin, “Ah. Why, you ask?” Annoyance bubbled in me, “Why, you ask! Here let me answer a question with a question. That’s how these things usually ago between Master and Subordinate… right?” I pointed my wand at him and hissed, “What were your orders, spawn?”

It stuttered, its moronic brain tumbling for a response before it fell upon its core original orders. I could see it in its eyes as I bored into his brain. Finally it managed to twist its mouth in a caricature of calm and subservience, images flashing in my mind as it did, “To maintain this School, your reputation, and projects as if you have never left.”

I didn’t break my gaze. My voice only got lower, the very potency of my magic tinging it with venom, “Did you?”

“Yes.”

It lies, its knowingly lied to me! How dare it!

Beautiful light of deepest crimson struck it once more. “Tell the truth! Did you follow my orders?!”

Even amongst the renewed screams I could make out a whimper of denial. That it had not. That it had failed this school, itself and most importantly me.

The grin that crossed my face was anything but of satisfaction.

“Thats a start,” I snarled, releasing the spell. Two steps later I was nose to nose with its quivering flesh. I brought wand to its temple, “Legilimens!”

★

It never stopped screaming in its digusting thrashing body during the entire trial.

I turned my eye from its jittering, ink soaked form. I had seen everything it had done these past two years. Intercourse notwithstanding, it had colluded with the usurper like a harlot to a sailor. Bit jangling which every way. It was not worth the magic that I had gifted it, let alone its existence, nor my face.

The thing had completely destroyed whatever little respect that had remained in me for it. Everything it done was a direct contradiction of what I had intended.

Even now, I could see where I had made my mistake in its creation. I had left it too mutable to its environment. Expected given that it had been born form my earliest workings in the Dataverse’s physical realm. Next, if there was to be a new one, I would have to anchor it more in my reality. Bound in blood and home like a House Elf perhaps?

I gave it a second glance. It was a possibility. Such that it was, it could not be allowed to remain.

“W-w-wha-t is t-t-to b’co-me of m-m-”

“What’s to become of you?” I muttered.

It shuddered.

I twisted my wand in my fingers, rotating it back and forth along its circumference several times before finally, speaking, “You are unlucky. You have nothing of the usurper I can use. Nothing of his supposed unmaking. If it happened… but no you don’t. Nothing at all. That is your folly,”

That was another thing. This older Harry Potter had not been seen in some time. That I had not found reports of it in the Dataverse, at all, meant its time among the primes had been brief. At least if there had been record  of the False one removing the Usurper from existence then I’d have more to go on and able to continue my goals… instead I had a hoodlum wearing my face, tupping a mudblood ghost that had been used to make my very horcrux. It was all very incestious.

“Had you something useful I would have made this short and painless. You are not worthy to be my copy.”

With a flick of wand I summoned ten thousand strands of crimson fire and shaped it into a rapier. Runic symbols blazed along the blade’s length and brought the smell of brimstone and the taste of hunger to the room. The glow casting the pitiful welp’s body in a maroon relief.

“P’p-pl-ease-n-!”

With a pivot and a swipe, I did not allow it to taint my presence any further. The blade hissed through like a thousand snakes. Where it touched nothing remained except a howling cry that deafened any pain wrought scream prior.

All at once it was silent, the body began to crumble and only an ash eaten book remained. Scored in half.

“Tilly!” I demanded of the air.

A pop drew my attention, but it was the slight screech and a whimper, that allowed to me find the House Elf in question. Young, floppy ears, saucer like green eyes. She was and completely in a restrained panic.

“Yes M-Masters of Riddles?” It squeaked.

I pursed my lips and stared down at the tiny teenage servant, “Clean up this mess and have the elves return my quarters to their state from two years prior.”

“Y-yes Master!”

I turned from my room and ignored the hurried popping that followed a frightened chatter that formed as soon as I was out of sight. There was to much to do and my home was far from the perfection it had been. At least the resident elf population knew well enough of how to follow orders.

For now though it was time to get back to work.]]>
Echos of the stone underneath my feet gave way to stairs as a curtain of energy parted before me.

The wards didn’t even question my presence, the various defensive charms didn’t recognize me as anything but the Master. Because how could I be anything other than that? This place was an extension of my very being. It brought low many enemies, but it was my allies that I truly found value in here. Each on a perfectly honed tool. Might and Magic. They bowed to me in my senses like a old expectant whore awaiting the pain and ecstasy of my careful ministrations.

It had been this way for years. Simply was.

A cruel smile played on my lips as a siren song of power rang in my soul. Its taste that was as as intoxicating as the very act of drawing upon True Magic itself. Dark powers waiting like a begging and loyal serpent.

I took a deep breath, not of the power though, but the musk of dust, of books, of knowledge, and of potential.

Code dissolved in my wake completely. I could feel the fractals coalesce into sold matter. In this world after all, will is everything. There were limits though. Power was to expensive. Twist the bosom of reality too hard and it would slap me down like an overly pushy husband, too drunk to keep his balance. The dataverse however… there were certain things only possible there. A single spell could rewrite existence and there I had gained access to a wealth material and knowledge.

It was the under layer, the foundation, the beginning and end of the Omniverse. There was never a question that I would be a Slytherin, but on occasion, places like that verse brought out the eagle in me.

I took a deep breath, it tasted of contentment, of home.

A home that was mine, a place that was- happy?

The world tilted under me as I missed a step, or rather a trick step. I fought keep my balance and caught myself on the next stair up.

What?

I looked down at my plainly missing limb, submerged in stone as if it were nothing but air. Air given gray speckled form. The impossibility of it. The mundanity of it. I had removed those steps before they even had begun. They were never apart of my Hogwarts or the previous one.

My fingers tightened around thirteen and half inches of yew, something sickening sparked in the back of my pages.

Happiness wasn’t unfamiliar to me. Joy and passion were close friends… but like all human emotions I had imbibed, twisted and unmade, they came in flavors. This flavor however was wrong. It was innocent and disoriented. No! Not innocent. Imbecile. Moronic. Defective.

“Weak,” I hissed

It was disgusting in how familiar it was with these walls, how connected they were with it. This flavor did not belong. Diseased. Sickly sweet sweat of a dying child who had partaken to much sugar. Only it was ephemeral. They were of me, but it was not mine. It was not a facade, rather a very real, very authentic emotion. One I knew I would never let myself feel. It was a debasement. The mask had become the face, and the face had tainted the soul.

Hogwarts had been corrupted in a way most repulsive.

Stone turned to liquid held only in place by my will the halls, classrooms and everything else in between gave way to my demands. Here my will was law and nothing stood in my way. Paints fled the portraits, and House Elves who cleaned near invisibly disapparated before a torrent of rage unraveled their cores. I could feel it all. My home was my own and it fled.

They knew that its true master was calling.

What would have taken minutes, too mere moments as geometry reasserted itself in a quavering mess. Only a final door stood between me and my quarry. This one did not heed me like the others. Behind it there were muffle sounds of pleasure, and a shifting hollow wind.

I bore into it with my mind and reached into that which had born it into existence and twisted.

“Open!” I hissed at the door. A low keening was the only prelude to the barrier complying in haste to implode.

Molten metal and wooded ash filled the room like a fog would a valley. A fog carried by  a gale that three the room’s two occupants backwards in a loosely bound tumble of clothes, flesh, a book, tartan and a eerie silver mist.

The silver form caught my eye first. A look of fear passed through the ghost whole, churning its entire body an almost improbably white steel over the pimply mop of a form that was the girl Myrtle Warren.

“Leave,” I snarled. The unspoken threat upon my voice to her eternal existence spurned the spectre into motion. In one frightened fluid motion she bolted through the left hand wall, the only sign of her passage was a light splat of something biological on the floor. The sound was pointed in how it reinforced what may have been the regular happenings of my office.

I traced the room for more change. One large tartan robe, some sort of oblong potioneering device with a cigar attached to it, some herb with a five pronged leaf. Hemp related potentially. Incense. A portrait of a busty woman was partially disrobe and stirring her fingers in places I rather not imagine. At the center of it all was my face, or rather the face of the Caretaker. His pants were around his waist and wand on the ground, vibrating with blue and pink emanations.

Ah.

I raised an eyebrow at the construct, “Coitus, it seems was an ever the evolving mess while I was gone. Not surprising but…” I let the words play on my tongue a bit before giving it some bite, “I never knew that mudblood of a Warren girl was such a slag.”

“Take. That. Back!” It growled out.

I inclined my head, curiosity tugged at my better judgment, “Why?”

“She forgave me! Us!”

I blinked twice as his meaning settled in. “Oh, that’s-” I couldn’t help it, I laughed. A uproariously potent cackle heaved itself through the body and my very pages shudder in humor. Only a fragment of a warning alerted me a sudden danger. Weak human emotion.

A flicker emotions settled over the replica before me, some were correct others were decidedly not. One of them specifically burned in the back of my head that very much did not belong. Rage on behalf of another. Empathy beyond logic, beyond reason. A little was useful, a lot was dangerous. I felt a frown fall upon me, the realization just how extensive that damage was.

The freak had indeed been polluted- it twitched forward, soft coruscates of hot and cold light gave way to something decidedly darker. Emotion thrummed through the room and into my pages. It was the warning I had neither expected nor would have encouraged.

I jerked my arm forward and fell into a lazy dueling stance. My entire body thrummed with a force as  just in time, I caught a blood red curse on the tip of my wand. The ball hovered there almost innocently even as it washed the entire room in deeply enthralling light.

“A barb of Blood Churning?” It was very dark magic powered best by indignation. A painful way to die from what I understood. But what would that mean for me? My blood was ink, my flesh, parchment. It was no threat, or a poor one at most. “…that’s better,” I drawled sardonically.

“But… let me show you how its done,” With that I flicked the captured spell back into nothingness and drew upon my own energies. The reservoir of the entire school pooled into me and into my wand. My mind and words shaped it into wall of pure law, “CRUCIO!”

The invocation tore at my throat, but my veins roared in my ears with power. Each sweet note of the unforgivable curse rang with sultry iridescent maroon bolts of lightning. Each one racing across the creature’s body as its screams burned into higher and higher octaves before a silent horror replaced it. A horror that its lungs could not hope to express. The rest of its body tried until even the twitching ended.

The eyes were nearly vacant when I ended the spell. But as soon as I did its breathing resumed and one of its deadend arms started towards the shattered remains of a wand jerkily. It didn’t matter, that shaft of yew had been destroyed in its grip near the beginning of my first spell.

“W-why?” It sputtered out ink.

I hummed theatrically a bit, tapping my wand to my chin, “Ah. Why, you ask?” Annoyance bubbled in me, “Why, you ask! Here let me answer a question with a question. That’s how these things usually ago between Master and Subordinate… right?” I pointed my wand at him and hissed, “What were your orders, spawn?”

It stuttered, its moronic brain tumbling for a response before it fell upon its core original orders. I could see it in its eyes as I bored into his brain. Finally it managed to twist its mouth in a caricature of calm and subservience, images flashing in my mind as it did, “To maintain this School, your reputation, and projects as if you have never left.”

I didn’t break my gaze. My voice only got lower, the very potency of my magic tinging it with venom, “Did you?”

“Yes.”

It lies, its knowingly lied to me! How dare it!

Beautiful light of deepest crimson struck it once more. “Tell the truth! Did you follow my orders?!”

Even amongst the renewed screams I could make out a whimper of denial. That it had not. That it had failed this school, itself and most importantly me.

The grin that crossed my face was anything but of satisfaction.

“Thats a start,” I snarled, releasing the spell. Two steps later I was nose to nose with its quivering flesh. I brought wand to its temple, “Legilimens!”

★

It never stopped screaming in its digusting thrashing body during the entire trial.

I turned my eye from its jittering, ink soaked form. I had seen everything it had done these past two years. Intercourse notwithstanding, it had colluded with the usurper like a harlot to a sailor. Bit jangling which every way. It was not worth the magic that I had gifted it, let alone its existence, nor my face.

The thing had completely destroyed whatever little respect that had remained in me for it. Everything it done was a direct contradiction of what I had intended.

Even now, I could see where I had made my mistake in its creation. I had left it too mutable to its environment. Expected given that it had been born form my earliest workings in the Dataverse’s physical realm. Next, if there was to be a new one, I would have to anchor it more in my reality. Bound in blood and home like a House Elf perhaps?

I gave it a second glance. It was a possibility. Such that it was, it could not be allowed to remain.

“W-w-wha-t is t-t-to b’co-me of m-m-”

“What’s to become of you?” I muttered.

It shuddered.

I twisted my wand in my fingers, rotating it back and forth along its circumference several times before finally, speaking, “You are unlucky. You have nothing of the usurper I can use. Nothing of his supposed unmaking. If it happened… but no you don’t. Nothing at all. That is your folly,”

That was another thing. This older Harry Potter had not been seen in some time. That I had not found reports of it in the Dataverse, at all, meant its time among the primes had been brief. At least if there had been record  of the False one removing the Usurper from existence then I’d have more to go on and able to continue my goals… instead I had a hoodlum wearing my face, tupping a mudblood ghost that had been used to make my very horcrux. It was all very incestious.

“Had you something useful I would have made this short and painless. You are not worthy to be my copy.”

With a flick of wand I summoned ten thousand strands of crimson fire and shaped it into a rapier. Runic symbols blazed along the blade’s length and brought the smell of brimstone and the taste of hunger to the room. The glow casting the pitiful welp’s body in a maroon relief.

“P’p-pl-ease-n-!”

With a pivot and a swipe, I did not allow it to taint my presence any further. The blade hissed through like a thousand snakes. Where it touched nothing remained except a howling cry that deafened any pain wrought scream prior.

All at once it was silent, the body began to crumble and only an ash eaten book remained. Scored in half.

“Tilly!” I demanded of the air.

A pop drew my attention, but it was the slight screech and a whimper, that allowed to me find the House Elf in question. Young, floppy ears, saucer like green eyes. She was and completely in a restrained panic.

“Yes M-Masters of Riddles?” It squeaked.

I pursed my lips and stared down at the tiny teenage servant, “Clean up this mess and have the elves return my quarters to their state from two years prior.”

“Y-yes Master!”

I turned from my room and ignored the hurried popping that followed a frightened chatter that formed as soon as I was out of sight. There was to much to do and my home was far from the perfection it had been. At least the resident elf population knew well enough of how to follow orders.

For now though it was time to get back to work.]]> <![CDATA[Retracing A Hero's Path]]> https://omni.zulenka.com/showthread.php?tid=6783 Sat, 09 Sep 2017 15:16:57 +0000 Deadpool]]> https://omni.zulenka.com/showthread.php?tid=6783 The collector's eyes widened with mild delight as he stared at the sign above the inn: Plush Inn—the letters were engraved into a beaten wooden sign above two ancient redwood doors. Age had assaulted the regal appearance of the building into an ominous mummy of its former self.


Based on the information he had received from one of his hired private investigators, this was a place frequently visited by the ultimate hero. Twice, in fact, which provided enough incentive for Elijah to make the trip personally.


“One step closer to the Man in Red,” he muttered.


His glass cane reverberated against the hard floor of the inn as he entered the lobby, and his eyes began to survey the interior—aged victorian furniture, illuminated by iron candleholders with dying flames.


“Greetings, traveler,” a middle-aged man said from behind the corner at the far-end of the lobby. “Here for a room?”


Forty plus years of life had carved deep crow's feet into his visage, which stretched down to his graying beard. His hairline looked like the top of a valentine heart, and housed waves of forehead wrinkles. The man either had terrible genes to prune so quickly, or he had experienced hardships unfathomable to the modern society Elijah came from.


The collector's eyes rolled towards him. “No,” he replied, “I won't be needing a room today.” He approached the counter, favoring the leg that his cane guided. “But there is one thing you may be able to assist me with.” With his free hand, he retrieved a folded paper from his trench coat's inside pocket, and slid it across to the lobby attendant. “I'm looking for this man; he might've been accompanied by a sugared cookie.”


The man unfolded the paper and beamed a long stare into its content; after a delayed response, he answered: “No, sorry.”


Disappointing, but the collector persisted. “How often do individuals dressed like this enter into this establishment?”


“It's not frequent, but not seldom either,” he man answered, folding the paper and handing it back to Elijah. “Perhaps one of the other attendants saw him though. The same people have been working here for years, so if he stood out they'd remember.”


“Oh, he stood out.”]]> The collector's eyes widened with mild delight as he stared at the sign above the inn: Plush Inn—the letters were engraved into a beaten wooden sign above two ancient redwood doors. Age had assaulted the regal appearance of the building into an ominous mummy of its former self.


Based on the information he had received from one of his hired private investigators, this was a place frequently visited by the ultimate hero. Twice, in fact, which provided enough incentive for Elijah to make the trip personally.


“One step closer to the Man in Red,” he muttered.


His glass cane reverberated against the hard floor of the inn as he entered the lobby, and his eyes began to survey the interior—aged victorian furniture, illuminated by iron candleholders with dying flames.


“Greetings, traveler,” a middle-aged man said from behind the corner at the far-end of the lobby. “Here for a room?”


Forty plus years of life had carved deep crow's feet into his visage, which stretched down to his graying beard. His hairline looked like the top of a valentine heart, and housed waves of forehead wrinkles. The man either had terrible genes to prune so quickly, or he had experienced hardships unfathomable to the modern society Elijah came from.


The collector's eyes rolled towards him. “No,” he replied, “I won't be needing a room today.” He approached the counter, favoring the leg that his cane guided. “But there is one thing you may be able to assist me with.” With his free hand, he retrieved a folded paper from his trench coat's inside pocket, and slid it across to the lobby attendant. “I'm looking for this man; he might've been accompanied by a sugared cookie.”


The man unfolded the paper and beamed a long stare into its content; after a delayed response, he answered: “No, sorry.”


Disappointing, but the collector persisted. “How often do individuals dressed like this enter into this establishment?”


“It's not frequent, but not seldom either,” he man answered, folding the paper and handing it back to Elijah. “Perhaps one of the other attendants saw him though. The same people have been working here for years, so if he stood out they'd remember.”


“Oh, he stood out.”]]> <![CDATA[A Stranger in the Moors]]> https://omni.zulenka.com/showthread.php?tid=6774 Mon, 04 Sep 2017 23:36:14 +0000 Lambert]]> https://omni.zulenka.com/showthread.php?tid=6774
He came across a little street corner almost immediately upon passing through what they called 'Ranger's Gate.' From here, he found a single-story building with a gray roof. The sign on the front of it read 'The Brass Fang.' He decided that this would be his first destination.

When he entered the front door of the establishment, most heads turned towards him to see who it was. He was standing in a blue eskimo outfit, which was out of place in this typically warm environment. The hood was pulled up over his head, covering most of it. His goggles rested up on his forehead, exposing his face. After a few moments of pause, the heads turned away from him, determining him not to be interesting (or imposing) enough to pay attention to. He was happy for that. He put one foot in front of the other, and made his way through the open room, past the wooden benches, to the bar.

He found a seat near the end of the bar. The bartender, a large bearded man, stepped towards him in the midst of wiping a glass clean. "Whatcha want?"

Leonard looked to his left. There was a sight that had a couple menu items on it. He put his finger up to the line that said 'Buckwheat Porridge, Mug of Cider.' "That," he told the barkeep. The man nodded in response and walked off. He returned briefly to give Leo his drink, and then disappeared again.

In the next twenty or so minutes, Snart took his chance to survey the surroundings and reflect on what he was doing. He had recently arrived at this place called the Omniverse and was guided to a place called Camelot. Rather then let himself be taken to a large city by a bunch of soldiers, he gathered up information on the closest town, which was this Darkshire. He got away from the soldiers, but aside from that, he had no other plans. No real idea of where he was or what he had gotten himself into. All he knew was that for now, the Omniverse was his home, and he'd have to work to get answers.

"Eh, you there," someone said behind him. Leonard moved to sit sideways on his stool to get a look at the voice's origin. It was a man with long, white hair sitting at the table closest to him. He had a stocky female with him as well. "Haven't seen you 'round here before. What's with the get-up? Why you wearin a coat?"

"Because I'm Cold," Snart said simply. He didn't elaborate further. Both the white-haired man and his female companion exchanged looked, but just shrugged, seemingly not bothered by his answer. Even if they didn't get it, they pretended to. It was about this time that the barkeep returned with a bowl of porridge and a re-fill for his drink. Leonard took a spoonful of the meal into his mouth and nodded at the barkeep. It was good. He was impressed.

His attention shifted back to the duo at the table. The silver-haired man leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on the table. "My name is Lican. This is Burga." He nodded to the butch-looking friend next to him. They both had on armor, which suggested some kind of military affiliation. They weren't wearing the metal plates just for their comfort, that was for sure.

"Leonard Snart," he responded between mouthfuls of porridge. "A pleasure."

"What brings you to Darkshire, Mr. Snart?" Lican asked.

Suddenly Leonard felt like he was being interrogated. The tone in Lican's voice was nice, welcoming even. But it had clear intentions. He saw a stranger and he didn't trust him. Smart. "I'm just passing through," The man known as Cold told him. "I'm new here, in this...place. Still trying to get my bearings. Think I'll stay a bit and figure out my next move." Lican nodded at his answers. "My turn for a question, if you don't mind. You military?"

"Darkshire Town Guard," the female answered. Burga was her name. "If you're going to be staying a bit, you should look to sign up. We can always use the recruits, and it'll earn your keep here. Assumin' you stay out of trouble."

"Aye, that's a good place to start," Lican agreed. "Keepin' out of trouble, that is. You gonna keep out of trouble here, Snart?"

Leonard felt like he needed to give his full attention to the duo, who were clearly sizing him up. He put the spoon down in the bowl of porridge and turned to them. His face stayed stoic, as usual. "I wouldn't dream of it," he promised. After all, he wasn't going to just tell them that he was a world class thief. Of course not.

"You should see the captain in the mornin," Lican suggested. He reaches out to grab his bottle of ale and held it up. Burga held up her mug, as well. "Cheers, Mr. Snart. Welcome to the Darkshire."

"Cheers," Snart said, forcing a smile on his lips and he held up his own glass.

Joining a town guard wasn't exactly how Leonard saw his future in this Omniverse. But it was a solid place to start, at least. If anyone was going to have information on what his next move should (or could) be, it was the soldiers here in this desolate town. He felt like there was a history here, and if he could get to the bottom of that, then he'd be well on his way to identifying where he fit in the Omniverse. If he fit at all.

Quote:Doing a 'Light in the Darkness' faction quest for Darkshire. 1073/5000 words.
]]>
He came across a little street corner almost immediately upon passing through what they called 'Ranger's Gate.' From here, he found a single-story building with a gray roof. The sign on the front of it read 'The Brass Fang.' He decided that this would be his first destination.

When he entered the front door of the establishment, most heads turned towards him to see who it was. He was standing in a blue eskimo outfit, which was out of place in this typically warm environment. The hood was pulled up over his head, covering most of it. His goggles rested up on his forehead, exposing his face. After a few moments of pause, the heads turned away from him, determining him not to be interesting (or imposing) enough to pay attention to. He was happy for that. He put one foot in front of the other, and made his way through the open room, past the wooden benches, to the bar.

He found a seat near the end of the bar. The bartender, a large bearded man, stepped towards him in the midst of wiping a glass clean. "Whatcha want?"

Leonard looked to his left. There was a sight that had a couple menu items on it. He put his finger up to the line that said 'Buckwheat Porridge, Mug of Cider.' "That," he told the barkeep. The man nodded in response and walked off. He returned briefly to give Leo his drink, and then disappeared again.

In the next twenty or so minutes, Snart took his chance to survey the surroundings and reflect on what he was doing. He had recently arrived at this place called the Omniverse and was guided to a place called Camelot. Rather then let himself be taken to a large city by a bunch of soldiers, he gathered up information on the closest town, which was this Darkshire. He got away from the soldiers, but aside from that, he had no other plans. No real idea of where he was or what he had gotten himself into. All he knew was that for now, the Omniverse was his home, and he'd have to work to get answers.

"Eh, you there," someone said behind him. Leonard moved to sit sideways on his stool to get a look at the voice's origin. It was a man with long, white hair sitting at the table closest to him. He had a stocky female with him as well. "Haven't seen you 'round here before. What's with the get-up? Why you wearin a coat?"

"Because I'm Cold," Snart said simply. He didn't elaborate further. Both the white-haired man and his female companion exchanged looked, but just shrugged, seemingly not bothered by his answer. Even if they didn't get it, they pretended to. It was about this time that the barkeep returned with a bowl of porridge and a re-fill for his drink. Leonard took a spoonful of the meal into his mouth and nodded at the barkeep. It was good. He was impressed.

His attention shifted back to the duo at the table. The silver-haired man leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on the table. "My name is Lican. This is Burga." He nodded to the butch-looking friend next to him. They both had on armor, which suggested some kind of military affiliation. They weren't wearing the metal plates just for their comfort, that was for sure.

"Leonard Snart," he responded between mouthfuls of porridge. "A pleasure."

"What brings you to Darkshire, Mr. Snart?" Lican asked.

Suddenly Leonard felt like he was being interrogated. The tone in Lican's voice was nice, welcoming even. But it had clear intentions. He saw a stranger and he didn't trust him. Smart. "I'm just passing through," The man known as Cold told him. "I'm new here, in this...place. Still trying to get my bearings. Think I'll stay a bit and figure out my next move." Lican nodded at his answers. "My turn for a question, if you don't mind. You military?"

"Darkshire Town Guard," the female answered. Burga was her name. "If you're going to be staying a bit, you should look to sign up. We can always use the recruits, and it'll earn your keep here. Assumin' you stay out of trouble."

"Aye, that's a good place to start," Lican agreed. "Keepin' out of trouble, that is. You gonna keep out of trouble here, Snart?"

Leonard felt like he needed to give his full attention to the duo, who were clearly sizing him up. He put the spoon down in the bowl of porridge and turned to them. His face stayed stoic, as usual. "I wouldn't dream of it," he promised. After all, he wasn't going to just tell them that he was a world class thief. Of course not.

"You should see the captain in the mornin," Lican suggested. He reaches out to grab his bottle of ale and held it up. Burga held up her mug, as well. "Cheers, Mr. Snart. Welcome to the Darkshire."

"Cheers," Snart said, forcing a smile on his lips and he held up his own glass.

Joining a town guard wasn't exactly how Leonard saw his future in this Omniverse. But it was a solid place to start, at least. If anyone was going to have information on what his next move should (or could) be, it was the soldiers here in this desolate town. He felt like there was a history here, and if he could get to the bottom of that, then he'd be well on his way to identifying where he fit in the Omniverse. If he fit at all.

Quote:Doing a 'Light in the Darkness' faction quest for Darkshire. 1073/5000 words.
]]> <![CDATA[That Night...?]]> https://omni.zulenka.com/showthread.php?tid=6778 Mon, 04 Sep 2017 10:16:59 +0000 Yukika Inoue]]> https://omni.zulenka.com/showthread.php?tid=6778
The red-headed warrior’s hands hummed like an over-powered magnet and flashed slightly black as her weapon and shield floated into her hands. The shield locked into her bracer with a reassuring click leaving her left hand free. She should stay careful, in her condition she was in a weak and vulnerable state. Even so, she still remembered how to fight. Her heels left indents behind her in the dirt as she worked her way toward the mysterious structure.

It didn't take very long for something to hone in on her, and it wasn't the encounter she was expecting. No more than ten minutes after her entrance to the verse, she saw a large group of blackened creatures as dark as the dead of night in hell. Only word found it’s way out of her mouth when memories flushed through her head like a bursting dam of water exploding into a waterfall.

“Grimm.” She uttered to herself almost inaudibly. They were attacking a small farm and she happened to be close by. Without a moment's hesitation, the huntress charged into battle. Flashes of a dark night lit only by the broken moon and dim fires that had collected around her from devastation of these creatures. A woman in three pieces and a girl dressed in black and red. Her eyes trailed towards the sky, seeing the crow-like Grimm cawing from their kingdom in the air.

The Xiphos in her hand extended past its extents of a sword and became a spear. She took it under hand and launched into one's face. The metal stuck into the Nevermore’s neck and it dropped from the sky like a sack of potatoes. It careened down towards her and slammed into the grassy plain next to her. A black aura surrounded Miló and returned to her hand. That got the attention of nightmare beings. At least ten of them, Beowolves they come to mind as they charge towards her, completely forgetting about the barn filled with miscellaneous farm animals. Other beings - Creeps? - blasted from the ground, spraying dirt up like brown mist. Just another day in the life of a huntress.

Her weapon came to life again, switching back to it’s Xiphos mode. As her blade ran deep through the dark creatures of Grimm, images of that night kept flooding her mind. Who were these people she was seeing? What is going on during this night that she keeps seeing in her mind? The bashing of her shield in the face of a Beowolf brought her back to her into the fight. Her sword impaled the black beast it's mechanical sound extended through the Beowolf’s body piercing its deadly javelin point through its back. Forcing her enemy back, she jammed the end through another one and into the ground, which she pole vaulted over taking her spear with her. The rest fell just as easily as those two. Metal meeting flesh - or whatever it is Grimm have - more than once. The precision of the famed Pyrrha Nikos was undeniable. The invincible woman cut through enemies as if she was mowing the lawn. When the smoke cleared from the last dissipation of the final Grimm. The huntress took a deep breath and yelled out to the sky.

“Who am I?!”]]>
The red-headed warrior’s hands hummed like an over-powered magnet and flashed slightly black as her weapon and shield floated into her hands. The shield locked into her bracer with a reassuring click leaving her left hand free. She should stay careful, in her condition she was in a weak and vulnerable state. Even so, she still remembered how to fight. Her heels left indents behind her in the dirt as she worked her way toward the mysterious structure.

It didn't take very long for something to hone in on her, and it wasn't the encounter she was expecting. No more than ten minutes after her entrance to the verse, she saw a large group of blackened creatures as dark as the dead of night in hell. Only word found it’s way out of her mouth when memories flushed through her head like a bursting dam of water exploding into a waterfall.

“Grimm.” She uttered to herself almost inaudibly. They were attacking a small farm and she happened to be close by. Without a moment's hesitation, the huntress charged into battle. Flashes of a dark night lit only by the broken moon and dim fires that had collected around her from devastation of these creatures. A woman in three pieces and a girl dressed in black and red. Her eyes trailed towards the sky, seeing the crow-like Grimm cawing from their kingdom in the air.

The Xiphos in her hand extended past its extents of a sword and became a spear. She took it under hand and launched into one's face. The metal stuck into the Nevermore’s neck and it dropped from the sky like a sack of potatoes. It careened down towards her and slammed into the grassy plain next to her. A black aura surrounded Miló and returned to her hand. That got the attention of nightmare beings. At least ten of them, Beowolves they come to mind as they charge towards her, completely forgetting about the barn filled with miscellaneous farm animals. Other beings - Creeps? - blasted from the ground, spraying dirt up like brown mist. Just another day in the life of a huntress.

Her weapon came to life again, switching back to it’s Xiphos mode. As her blade ran deep through the dark creatures of Grimm, images of that night kept flooding her mind. Who were these people she was seeing? What is going on during this night that she keeps seeing in her mind? The bashing of her shield in the face of a Beowolf brought her back to her into the fight. Her sword impaled the black beast it's mechanical sound extended through the Beowolf’s body piercing its deadly javelin point through its back. Forcing her enemy back, she jammed the end through another one and into the ground, which she pole vaulted over taking her spear with her. The rest fell just as easily as those two. Metal meeting flesh - or whatever it is Grimm have - more than once. The precision of the famed Pyrrha Nikos was undeniable. The invincible woman cut through enemies as if she was mowing the lawn. When the smoke cleared from the last dissipation of the final Grimm. The huntress took a deep breath and yelled out to the sky.

“Who am I?!”]]> <![CDATA[waking]]> https://omni.zulenka.com/showthread.php?tid=6615 Tue, 25 Jul 2017 19:30:30 +0000 PepsiYuuka]]> https://omni.zulenka.com/showthread.php?tid=6615
Vaguely she recalled her dream, but not perfectly. She'd need to work on that one, she told herself. In fact she couldn't quite remember what had happened before she fell asleep, either- a dull pounding in the back of her head told her she had maybe taken some injury that had helped along that bout of forgetfulness. There were the humans, for a bit... She'd fought something, she was sure enough of that. And it seemed by now they'd parted ways.

Sliding her fingers into the hair on the back of her head posed another issue. Though she had really just been doing so to feel for an injury, she was quickly sidetracked by just how long her hair had gotten. For some reason, though she thought she had just cut it not that long ago, it was already down past her shoulders again. Had she been asleep that long? Perhaps. She really needed to invest in something to keep her schedule better, with falling asleep for months at a time being such a serious issue nowadays- hereaplace. Not a real word. She smiled to herself regardless.

Oh, right, she was trying to figure out what she was doing.

She got to her feet and stretched out, ignoring the surprisingly healthy grass underneath her when compared to the rest of the ground. After a moment and a flash, her parasol reappeared in her hands as well. Yup, this was still dark and dreary foggy land. Just as she'd left it. Yuuka pouted a bit- well, she guessed she shouldn't have just expected to wake back up in Gensokyo. Would have been too easy. She clenched her fist again. Still didn't feel too strong, but stronger than before. It was an improvement. Maybe she did just need a good nap. Hibernation.

The noises behind her tipped her off to something wrong quickly. Slowly, she turned on her feet, glaring into the empty space behind her. Ah. It was one of those invisible things, wasn't it? From before. Annoying. Though she wouldn't usually do so, her pose shifted to one more suitable for close range combat.

Putting her arms up in front of her face proved wise- very suddenly, bleeding claw marks covered them. But these things were weak, if she recalled. So she swung her right leg in a kick- feeling the impact and then hearing the sound of the creature hitting the ground. Fair enough. Dusting herself off, she took a couple steps forward, only to feel the creature grasp her ankle again.

"I said be still."

Her tone was forceful as she spat out the command, her parasol arcing down the instant she finished. It hit, once, and again, and again, and again... She lost herself for a moment in beating the fallen thing until she felt its grip on her relax. With a disgusted grunt, she shook her leg off, as if she had stepped in something particularly rancid.

"Well- I didn't say it. But I implied it, didn't I? That's what matters."

Her words rang out as she took a few steps forward, in whatever direction pleased her. However, after a second, she paused, and continued-

"...Who am I talking to?"

Yuuka shook her head. She was going senile, talking to herself. She took a few steps towards a long-dead tree, sitting a moment to gather her thoughts, figure out which direction she was facing, and maybe summon something to fix these wounds. Though at a loss for some instant revitalization device or magical medicine, she eventually did find herself in possession of a small roll of bandages. That would do.

Scouring her brain for the direction of where she had arrived from, she slowly walked that way while applying the bandages to her arms, carrying her parasol with the handle between her teeth. Did she know she could just desummon it? Yes. Did she want to go to the trouble? No. Besides, who knew, there could be more of those stupid monsters waiting for her.

She had finished her bandaging by the time she arrived back at the stone door frame into the realm of pure white. Well. There she was. She hardly blinked as she walked on through, figuring it about time she go see somewhere less dreary and potentially not so boring it put her to sleep.

Quote:exit.
]]>
Vaguely she recalled her dream, but not perfectly. She'd need to work on that one, she told herself. In fact she couldn't quite remember what had happened before she fell asleep, either- a dull pounding in the back of her head told her she had maybe taken some injury that had helped along that bout of forgetfulness. There were the humans, for a bit... She'd fought something, she was sure enough of that. And it seemed by now they'd parted ways.

Sliding her fingers into the hair on the back of her head posed another issue. Though she had really just been doing so to feel for an injury, she was quickly sidetracked by just how long her hair had gotten. For some reason, though she thought she had just cut it not that long ago, it was already down past her shoulders again. Had she been asleep that long? Perhaps. She really needed to invest in something to keep her schedule better, with falling asleep for months at a time being such a serious issue nowadays- hereaplace. Not a real word. She smiled to herself regardless.

Oh, right, she was trying to figure out what she was doing.

She got to her feet and stretched out, ignoring the surprisingly healthy grass underneath her when compared to the rest of the ground. After a moment and a flash, her parasol reappeared in her hands as well. Yup, this was still dark and dreary foggy land. Just as she'd left it. Yuuka pouted a bit- well, she guessed she shouldn't have just expected to wake back up in Gensokyo. Would have been too easy. She clenched her fist again. Still didn't feel too strong, but stronger than before. It was an improvement. Maybe she did just need a good nap. Hibernation.

The noises behind her tipped her off to something wrong quickly. Slowly, she turned on her feet, glaring into the empty space behind her. Ah. It was one of those invisible things, wasn't it? From before. Annoying. Though she wouldn't usually do so, her pose shifted to one more suitable for close range combat.

Putting her arms up in front of her face proved wise- very suddenly, bleeding claw marks covered them. But these things were weak, if she recalled. So she swung her right leg in a kick- feeling the impact and then hearing the sound of the creature hitting the ground. Fair enough. Dusting herself off, she took a couple steps forward, only to feel the creature grasp her ankle again.

"I said be still."

Her tone was forceful as she spat out the command, her parasol arcing down the instant she finished. It hit, once, and again, and again, and again... She lost herself for a moment in beating the fallen thing until she felt its grip on her relax. With a disgusted grunt, she shook her leg off, as if she had stepped in something particularly rancid.

"Well- I didn't say it. But I implied it, didn't I? That's what matters."

Her words rang out as she took a few steps forward, in whatever direction pleased her. However, after a second, she paused, and continued-

"...Who am I talking to?"

Yuuka shook her head. She was going senile, talking to herself. She took a few steps towards a long-dead tree, sitting a moment to gather her thoughts, figure out which direction she was facing, and maybe summon something to fix these wounds. Though at a loss for some instant revitalization device or magical medicine, she eventually did find herself in possession of a small roll of bandages. That would do.

Scouring her brain for the direction of where she had arrived from, she slowly walked that way while applying the bandages to her arms, carrying her parasol with the handle between her teeth. Did she know she could just desummon it? Yes. Did she want to go to the trouble? No. Besides, who knew, there could be more of those stupid monsters waiting for her.

She had finished her bandaging by the time she arrived back at the stone door frame into the realm of pure white. Well. There she was. She hardly blinked as she walked on through, figuring it about time she go see somewhere less dreary and potentially not so boring it put her to sleep.

Quote:exit.
]]>