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=WPC 2023= Field of Song

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1/22/2023 13:49:42   
  Chewy905

Chromatic ArchKnight of RP


 The world between worlds is still and silent. It waits for those who search for it and those who stumble onto its streets by chance or fate. It waits for those teetering on the edge of boundless life and final death. It waits without the passing of time, the movement of life, or the twinkling of stars to know how long it must wait.

Fate gazes upon it and decrees: it shall wait no more.



The Chequered City is facing change, as impossible as that should be. The skyline, once a perfect mix of blacks and whites, is dominated by only marble skyscrapers, as the obsidian structures crouch low in the shadows. Twisting roads seem almost plottable, staircases actually lead to greater heights rather than blank walls, and opened doors simply grant passage to the next room over.

At its outskirts Chaos prowls, newly formed gardens of blackened vines creating a familiar, maddening labyrinth around a City dominated by structure. Here, Order contorts to twisted paths, caves ducking under the ground, and bridges climbing over the walls, until they reach the first checkered tile of even streets.

The City stands, as ever, for those that support this Order, or those that wish to be lost in the fleeting remnants of Chaos in its streets. It is filled, as ever, with the motions of automatons, everyone and no one all at once. And it provides, as ever, food and rest and respite for those preparing to march away to War.

None can stay upon these checkered streets or in this dizzying maze. This is not a safe home, nor is it a doomed resting place; it is merely a final refuge or a deciding trial before those within find their gates, their doors, or simply fade away to beyond.

For Pawns belong in one place alone.

The Battlefield.


Through silence, a song begins, harrowing notes played on forgotten strings. It crescendos, ringing with vibrato and accentation, the only presence in a sightless void. The only presence save for the Pawns, left with nothing but this tune. This maddening, freeing, melody.

The song swells, sweeping around the void and inviting one and all to listen. Louder and louder it builds, suffocating the beating of hearts and the cacophony of thought..

And then, a new world, an entire realm built upon the final breath of a being that knew naught but freedom and craved only an audience.

The song does not die off. It only rises, louder still as the curtain sweeps aside and the spotlights flare to life to illuminate the center of the stage. Lit by these flares is a lone statue of a figure, already in motion as their bow caresses the strings and brings about the endless harmony that caresses the Pawns that now surround it. The song demands an audience, the song demands a dance. The spotlights flare again, each alighting upon one of the Pawns that ring the stage's edges. When they do not move, when they do not dance, the lights begin to fade, and darkness and silence creep upon the still.

Above each Pawn, a symbol flashes. A five-spoked circle. For some, the white of the spotlights, with straight and pristine lines. For others, the black of the surrounding darkness, etchings curved inwards in an endless spiral. The runes hovered above for but a moment, their presence made known to all, before quickly winking away.

The song swells once more, endless red velvet seats beyond the stage's edge slamming open as an invisible force sits upon each and endless voices call above the music.

“Welcome to the Field of Song. No Good can applaud you; no Evil can end your performance. Prove yourselves worthy, Pawns, or perish in the silent dark.”

Post #: 1
1/26/2023 22:00:50   
Oddball
Member

“...This is torture, Stephan.”

A sigh escaped a masked Amerya as she took a seat at the top of a stairwell situated at the back of a shady, dilapidated building. While Time ravaged all, it appeared to have a special hatred for this specific area, with most of the buildings’ supports having eroded at an unreasonably fast rate. The whole complex seemed ready to topple at a moments notice, which would have dire repercussions on the freshly built cafe at the front of the building, existing solely as an attempt to hide the dire state of the rest of it.

“Another dead end?”

Came the response after a brief, but tense, moment. Stephan was one of the two people Amerya could trust with her secret, and was the only one willing to aid her in her obsessive search for the perpetrator of the incident…

The incident that took her sister from her.

“Haven’t cleared the rest of the back out yet, but things aren’t looking good. Found anything on your end?”

“Nothing that isn’t already public domain.”

Another sigh. This one leaning a lot further into Amerya’s frustration at the situation. It had been 6 long years since it happened and she had spent those 6 years chasing fake lead after fake lead… It had all gotten so tiring.

“Look, I’m sorry. But you know there’s only so much I can do from my end without raising any suspicions.”

“Yeah yeah, I know. Lemme know if anything else comes up.”

And without waiting for a response, Amerya hung up on her associate and with a grunt, she raised herself back to her feet. Turning back towards the door she had left open, Amerya spotted the remaining gang members cautiously approaching from the opposite end of the room. Counting them off, only 4 remained from this, previously quite large and influential, gang. She played with the idea of leaving them alive, to further spread word about a savage, masked assailant looking for information about an attack from 6 whole years ago…


…”Leave no witnesses.”

Punctuated with the loud clacking of heels, Amerya stepped into the room's dim lighting and took a slow, panning, glance across the rest of the individuals. Two armed with blunt instruments of some kind, one with a knife and the last was unarmed. The only possible danger here was the knife, which shouldn’t be sharp enough to pierce through the protective padding hidden underneath her usual attire.




A loud, sudden, ringing startled Amerya awake, causing her to look frantically around her small apartment for any oddities that may stand out. The second time the noise came, Amerya had finished scanning her room, and she was pulled towards the phone on her bedside cabinet.

“Right… It’s just someone calling.”

Hesitating for just a moment, she reluctantly takes her phone and glances at the name.
The name presented caused a breath Amerya didn’t know she was holding to get caught in her throat. How could she have forgotten that it was that time of the month again?

With a shaky uneasiness, Amerya answered the call and reluctantly brought it up to her ear, bracing herself for another scolding. What she received was about what she expected from her Mother these days.

“Please tell me this had nothing to do with you.”

“And a good morning to you too.”

“The news, Amerya! They’re saying that several bodies were found in the storage rooms of that new Cafe that opened recently.”

At this point, Amerya had stood up out of bed, and had begun to raise her voice to match the tone of her Mother. It had not always been like this between them, but after the incident? Amerya found herself drifting further away from her only remaining family member, until her own Mother was treated as much a stranger as anyone else.

“So what if I roughed them up a little!? Why would it be any of your business?”

“Amerya” Her mother hissed, clearly not happy with her daughters’ choice of words… Or current occupation. “You can’t keep doing this! You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“Oh. So NOW you want to try playing as a happy family? Just a little too late on that one, Mother.”

“Asurah wouldn’t-”

“She wouldn’t what, mom?

Her mother paused, seeming to come to regret her choice of words almost instantaneously. But Amerya wouldn’t let this go, not this time.

“Go on. Keep going. She wouldn’t what?

“...She wouldn’t want you to be like this.”

“And there it is! The same exact drivel you give me every time we talk. And you wonder why I don’t call? I’m out there, on the streets, daily! Looking for any information at all about the person who took Asurah from us. While you just sit comfortably, in the safety of your home, doing absolutely nothing!”

The deafening silence from the other side of the phone was all Amerya needed. The killer slumping back down onto her bed with a deep sigh.

“Just… Do us both a favour, and don’t call me again unless you’ve got something important to say.”

“...I love y-”

Click



Amerya gazed up at the ceiling, her twisted thoughts allowed to roam free as she lay there in complete silence. These days, it was rare for her to stay in her small apartment for any longer than necessary, since she was in constant need to keep herself as occupied as possible.
But today? She just didn’t have the energy.

“...Why us? Why me?”

“What did we do to deserve this?”

And for the first time in, what had felt like an age, Amerya felt the familiar sting of tears beginning to well up. At first, just a couple of sobs here and there, but it wouldn’t be long before something inside of her broke, and Amerya found herself uncontrollably wailing into her pillow.

The world was cruel.

So very, very cruel.




Pain enveloped Amerya’s being as she slowly awoke from her slumber, groggily bringing a hand up to grab at her head to attempt to nurse this violent headache. She had cried herself to sleep, something she hadn’t done since Asurah’s death. Sitting up, she was granted the view of a very unfamiliar room, instantly alerting her to the very obvious fact that she was not at home anymore.

In fact, this place looked nothing like anywhere she had been before. Pristine white walls and ceiling, a mismatched pattern of white and black tiles that stretched on for an eternity, and yet simultaneously induced a heavy feeling of claustrophobia. Wherever she was? It certainly wasn’t reminiscent of anything from home.

Stumbling to her feet, Amerya instinctively reaches for where her Mask would be, a looming sense of immediate dread washing over her body as she finally realizes what her being in this situation means.

The Mask.

Her Mask.

The last bastion of protection for her shattered psyche.

Gone

And in her peripheral vision, the faint image of hundreds of faces began to fade into view. Mouths agape, eyes sunkern, hollow, and rolled back.

In the back of her mind, two voices called to Amerya in unison. She closed her eyes, diverting her focus to just one of them… If it could just help her…


“This way…”

There! It was faint, but something was calling to her from deeper within this bizarre area. She was fully aware that it may just be a trap to lead her into an easily ambushable position… But she had to follow it.

She must follow it.

Ignoring the pain in her body screaming at her, Amerya took off into a sprint, exiting the strange checkered building she had woken up in only to step into a strange, checkered, city. But there was no time for sightseeing, or lack thereof, she had a single goal in mind. Though, what was waiting for her around the next corner? She couldn’t have ever expected.

A Goose.

An honest-to-God, Goose. With a sword. Just waddling around, stealing things from pockets like it was the rightful owner. Whatever this bizarre city could throw at her, it couldn’t get any weirder than this.

Right?

In a flash, the humanoids had turned to look at Amerya, and while her mask had done its job to block her most recent victims’ faces from her memory… their clothes were unmistakable. With a growl, Amerya slapped her hand against the floor of the city, pulling a large, rusted slab of metal from the ground.

As expected, a honk came from the Goose beside her, it staring at the humanoids who had dared to take their attention off of it. Even if it was just a honk, Amerya could somehow tell that it wanted to fight… it craved violence, as she did.

“Then… Violence you shall get.”

Twisting her weapon to its side, Amerya scooped the Goose up with Punishment, twirling around with the blade before launching the Goose at high speeds towards one of the groups of entities. Without skipping a beat, Amerya dashed forwards, twirling her body around and driving her weapon into the side of one of the enemies. Without taking time to get a clear look at these things, she waves a farewell to the sword-wielding animal and continues moving forward, driven by her urge to obtain her mask once again.

Twist after twist, Amerya continues her frenzied sprint towards where her heart was directing her, continuously shaking the images of those faces out of her mind. Just a little farther, she could feel that her mask was close.

And then she heard it. A third voice, quietly piercing through her cascade of thoughts.

It was a voice she hadn’t heard since that fateful day

The day she lost everything…

It was her voice.

But it couldn’t be her voice… She was dead. She wasn’t coming back.

Still, curiosity overcame Amerya, and she slowly turned to look behind her.

“...Nothing, of course.”

Why would she be here? There was no way Asurah could be here.
There was no way Asurah could be here.
There was no way-

Amerya let off a loud, piercing, scream, expelling her frustrations out into the world for all present to hear. She slammed Punishment into the ground in front of her, the weapon seemingly vanishing into thin air as it makes contact. For a brief moment, Amerya stays still, her breaths heavy as her heartbeat pulses rhythmically in her ears. She wanted nothing more than to just give up, to find a way home and put everything behind her. She wanted out.

She didn’t want to live like this anymore.

…But she had to. For her sake.

“Almost there..”

Came the voice once again, Amerya feeling herself being pulled to the building at the end of the street. Was this it? Was this where her Mask had been taken?
She needed to find out… She needed her Mask.



Entering the room, Amerya’s panicked state was washed away from her, a great feeling of comfort and warmth overcoming the woman as she laid eyes on the Mask.

“There you are..” She muttered, moving over towards it and affectionately rubbing a thumb over the front of it. It was there, it was her Mask.

Carefully, she takes the object in both of her hands, looking down at the one object that keeps her held together, the one thing that she found herself relying on over and over.
Closing her eyes, Amerya brings the mask up, and waits as she allows the mask to attach itself to its owner, finding comfort in the familiar action and feeling. She was back.

And this time she wouldn’t let the Mask out of her sight.

Opening her eyes, Amerya finds herself in darkness, a frantic cacophony of sounds masquerading as a song finds its way to her ears. While definitely chilling, Amerya also finds a strange comfort in the noise, vastly preferring it to the complete silence that she had previously dealt with in the strange checkered city. Turning, Amerya catches spotlights switching on one by one, illuminating certain parts of this strange area she had found herself in. Large symbols presented themselves over other figures standing in this same, arena-like place and a quick glance upwards revealed hers as black. A manner of keeping track of some “team” related information, perhaps?

The first contestant caught her attention almost immediately.
…The Goose was back. And it was staring directly towards her.

To her right was… a Deer? Perhaps having both of these in here with her was some sort of metaphor? That she was nothing more than a rabid beast…
That was, probably, thinking about it too deeply.

And finally, to her left, was a featureless humanoid, causing Amerya to let off a sigh of relief. It appeared that the masks enchantments were still working, and hadn’t been tampered with. And thus, to Amerya at least, they had no discernable features to note.

As the song reached a crescendo, a booming voice rang out above all else.

Welcome to the Field of Song. No Good can applaud you; no Evil can end your performance. Prove yourselves worthy, Pawns, or perish in the silent dark.”

“Prove ourselves worthy? Sounds straightforward enough!” And with that, the game was afoot. She would only need to eliminate the others with brutal efficiency, and raw strength… There was no need to rely on her ability just yet.



AQ DF AQW Epic  Post #: 2
1/26/2023 23:06:58   
markthematey
Member

“One's soul is defined by what the Scripture had written for it. No one can deviate from the Scripture’s plan for your soul, every color and every meaning held within it, has already been written in the Scripture’s lines”

~ The Commdmanets of the Scripture



Sand covers every inch of Kasdil’s vision. The harsh wind kicks up an endless flurry that blinds and pesters his eyes. The outline of his own soul becomes blurred by the flurry. The only thing blocking the sand-fused wind is the thin cloth mask covering his mouth. Determination drives Kasdil forward, pushing each step forward one after another.

Kasdil trudges mile after mile of this sandstorm until the walls of a city come into view. He only spends a day at this haven before he continues his pilgrimage. From one city to the next, the destination unknown. Kasdil is only a speck of dust in the all-consuming desert.

The desert numbs his sense of self, the mind wanders into the haze of the desert. One day bleeds into the next ever consumed by the harsh winds. A water-filled spring becomes indistinguishable from the last, the sweet taste of its freshwater growing staler and staler with each sip. The safe havens he once yearned for blur together just to simply be forgotten. The only thing holding his mind together is the weight of his gun hanging across his shoulder.

The desert has captured another soul.



He doesn’t remember entering a city. He doesn’t recollect any great walls that surround its vastness. Nor does he remember paying the guards a small toll to enter without trouble. Yet he finds himself in another large township. One that is soon to be forgotten like the rest as he continues his journey.

An unease tugs at Kasdil’s mind, something about the air isn’t right. The alleys are too dark, the streets too quiet. His mind tries to stay complacent but his instincts slowly take hold, lulling him out of his hazed state and becoming more attentive to his surrounding.

He can feel eyes boar into his back. Ever watching figures meticulously peering into his very being. They beckon to go deeper within the city. The beings influence him in a much more subtle way than the Scripture ever has. Kasdil's eyebrow twitches in annoyance. “The Scripture decrees my steps to be true, therefore they are. Walk with pride and never stray.” The words had been burned into his mind. Each line of the scripture had been thoroughly memorized, never to be forgotten. No matter how hard he tries, the words of the Scripture never left his mind.

Kasdil stalks down the streets, looking for any signs within the checkered city he finds himself. The only signs of life are these strange soulless beings that wander. Anything that moves without a soul is only trouble in Kasdil’s eyes. They have nothing that binds their actions or defines themselves. They are completely free from the Scripture's control but that freedom is cause for fear.

The street ends with a massive building with grand double doors. The door is open, inviting him in. The inside is a complete black veil. Kasdil weighs his options but reassurance enters his mind. That is the way forward it told him. Another being wishing to dictate my action, he sighs to himself but he could tell they were promising him what he wants. He’ll play along with their game, for now.

Kasdil enters the pitch-black room. He walks 5 paces before stopping completely, the only sound being the echo of his steps. He sees nothing but as he turns the door is already gone.

A blinding light surrounds Kasdil. He stands upon a glorious stage, peering out into rows and rows of empty seats. Whipping around, he immediately raising his gun. A massive silver statue commands the center of this stage. It holds a violin and has an otherworldly presence. It looks close to human but too perfect. It has long metallic vines that flow like hair. Its eyes are closed with a slight smile. Despite the calmness of its posture, the statue still emanates an eeriness that is impossible to describe.

Three other spotlights held strong. The presence in his mind confirmed what he first thought. Three opponents he would need to face.
Post #: 3
1/27/2023 2:36:52   
Riprose123
Member

Leopold’s nostrils flared, thick clouds of misty breath surrounding his head like a dark storm cloud, reflecting his frustration and building. The Hares had sent him to track some missing fawns, and while their scent was thick and easy to follow in the evergreen forest, he seemed no closer than he had been hours ago. He stomped at the snow-covered forest floor, dragging his hooves through the frosty undergrowth. He absentmindedly chomped at a few low hanging pine boughs, chewing slowly and spitting the needles out as a minty taste flooded his mouth. He wondered at what had brought the fawns this far, as he had yet to find tracks or a scent that would indicate a predator. The Men had long ceased their hunting of his kind after the last Stag War and while the wolves and forest cats were a constant danger, they lived in relative peace with each other. Having finished his pine chew, he spit the rest of the pulp out and began chasing the fawn’s scent once again, reaching deeper and deeper into ever stranger parts of the forest.

Time passed and Leopold found himself in parts of the forest he was unfamiliar with. He rubbed trees as he went along, his antlers making deep gouges in the bark to mark where he had been. The smell of the fawns was still strong, calling him onward. As he progressed the trees came to an abrupt stop and met a wall of black leaves. Leopold rubbed one last tree and sniffed at the leaves, an intoxicating scent filling his nose. Beneath the scent of the missing fawns was the smell of sweet moglin berries and green leaves, and as he reached a tenuous mouth to the leaves and chewed, he was filled with a sense of invigorating energy. Taking the time to eat his fill, his poor eyes almost missed the figure in the hedges before him. However, as it began to stir and rise, he moved his head inquisitively towards it. It stared at him in turn, and he recognized it as some sort of humanoid, perhaps a human or elf or something else entirely. “Perchance are these your bushes?” he bleeted roughly, hoping they would forgive him for talking through a mouthful of leaves.

“Not mine. Should....eat?” the figure said, her voice rough and feminine, much like the eldest doe.

The Doe humanoid reached forward and grabbed at the leaves, moving them towards her mouth. Leopold snorted suddenly, shaking his armed head, “If this isn’t your’s, I claim it! If you persist, I must insist on a dual!”

The doe looked at him quizzically, “you want....a fight. Is that it?”

Leopold bobbed his head, snorting and grunting as he pawed at the ground, digging troughs in the soft dirt. A fight would do him good, loosening tight muscles from hours of tracking. He almost smiled, until the Doe turned and left. He bleated after her in disappointment but would have shrugged if he could, having not lost anything by her refusal. Instead, he had claimed the hedge for himself and would hopefully bring a doe there one day to begin a new herd. Taking a few more mouthfuls of the dark leaves to tide him over, he began making his way deeper into the checkered city. Uncomfortable away from the trees and canopies of the forest, he hoped to find the fawns soon and leave. He wandered aimlessly for many hours, avoiding any sign of human-like activity in fear of violating the tenuous peace his kind held with them. Hours passed and though he had travelled for hours and the sun was setting, he was no closer to finding the fawns. He found a lone tree to bask under in a secluded boulevard, quickly falling asleep despite his efforts to stay awake.



Waking up, he found himself in the dark. His sharp eyes cut through the darkness, making out different shapes around him. Two were humanoid, foreign to him but familiar. The other he recognized as one of the birds of the forest. His eyes balked a little at the spotlight shining down on him, but he turned slightly to better face those around him, noting the welcoming message and the symbols that appeared above him and the others. He looked to the one across from him, grunting softly in acknowledgment of their apparent allegiance, before turning to the only familiar shape, the duck.



“Excuse me, Monsieur Duck. I believe I shall fight you, if that would be alright. I can’t risk our peace with the humans,” Leopold bleated politely. He raised his head suddenly, pawing at the ground in anticipation and pulling a deep bugle from his throat, unleashing it for all those around him to hear and summoning both his courage and the Green.
DF MQ  Post #: 4
1/28/2023 11:42:06   
Sylphe
Member

They found him outside, frozen in a lake. The wild geese had already left for the south long ago.

"I don't get why it wouldn't fly," said the fisherman after handing the goose to the farmer. "It doesn't look sick at all. It's as if it's never seen ice before."

The logs cracked softly as the fire ate away at them.

"It's warmer here than outside," The human said. She took a step closer only to have to back away from a hiss. The cottage rattled under the winter storm, and her new friend rattled just as badly, even close to warmth and under blankets.

She spoke, softly. "You're scared of the wind… I used to be, too."

She had an inkling, for a moment - that the goose’s beady eyes had somehow understood, lifting its head, proudly. As if it’d be foolish to be scared of a little wind, as if she’d thrown it an insult. But then the planks shuddered again, and all that bravery was lost in a white puffball of feather.

"Well,” She chuckled. “My nan liked to tell me stories when I needed to be just a little more brave. My favourite was even about a bird!"

The goose honked.

Oh dear.

“It’s not even that long!”



The star speckled waters splashed against a grassy shore. A goose paddled through the darkness, waddled out of the water, and honked in disdain.

Have they ever heard of water? Actual water? Setting down right in the middle of the entrance, Ferdinand got to cleaning the darkness off his wings. Gah! So sticky! No fish! So hard to make sharp turns in! And he was pretty sure he swallowed a star thinking it was a crumb.

Maybe it was a weird crumb? He should try again. Just to be sure.

A shadow fell on Ferdinand, and the goose raised its beak from the water, holding a little star. They were so tall, taller than most humans were to him, even. A knight with a trident made it to the labyrinth. They paid the goose a single glance and tried to step past.

"Honk."

This is my spot. Go away.

The knight backed off, confusion clear in the glowing eyes behind their helmet. Everyone makes mistakes. This knight's was saying, "Oh come on, Dastardius the Terrible. That's just a goose!" and trying to take a stab at the hissing bird, much to Ferdinand and the maze's discontent.

Behemoth with a trident. An assassin with pink ribbons. A dragon with spider heads. No one would get past him and his new vine wall comrade. No one would step on his turf. Yep! Honk! Go away! Right back into the water with you! Honk! Make a splash! Shoo!

Find another entrance!

The best way to get rid of competition is to make sure nobody even gets to the arena. Ferdinand fluffed up, proudly weighing his sword. With a victorious honk, he made his way through the grassy maze, leaving starry footprints and bell jingles behind. The black vines made way to polished marble tiles, shining and white and perfect, until he left pawprints on those too. Chaos found its way into the City after all, and it was in the form of keys lost and never found, and a conga line of chirping balls of marble that desperately tried to sweep space-tinged mud off the tiles.

There had to be an end to this city, and these tall buildings with no lights behind them. There also had to be an end to this garden hose he stole all the way back in the labyrinth. It just kept going. Where did it end? Will this gardener ever tire of chasing him?

Apparently so. It stared, transfixed, at a woman. Ferdinand froze as she pulled a weapon from somewhere beyond the marble.

It was a different kind of mischief that he felt then. His grip tightened around the blade’s hilt, and the honk came out muted, yet burning.

Then we fight, together- Not like this, not like this, not like-

He spread his wings, first in confusion and then anger as the ferocious rusted blade was used to scoop him up. And then in joy as he flew with the stars overhead, bell jingling and jingling. He swiped against the marble men, fury alight in his beady eyes. It wasn’t just her whose blade weighed nothing, and the goose handled his blade and flight with grace, bouncing off a steel shoulder and spreading his wings to catch up to the rushing woman.

And perhaps find out if the stars all around him aren’t weird crumbs, too.

Darkness overtook the skyline as he flew, swallowing the stars. And somewhere at the back of his mind, he heard a few confused cleaner marbles roll off the City’s edge.

He just hoped they didn’t drop the weird hose.

He was pretty sure it’d keep falling until the end of days.


“Okay, so seven rivers, seven lakes and kingdoms and just that many years ago, there was a prince that lived in a castle in the trees, and loved darkness most of all.”


He’d never expected the darkness to sing.

Ferdinand breathed out, taking a step forward on the wooden floors. Across from him, the warrior he’d seen once before, covered with a mask. Over to the side, a deer that spoke.

A duck?! Excuse me? Duck?

Welcome to the Field of Song. No Good can applaud you; no Evil can end your performance. Prove yourselves worthy, Pawns, or perish in the silent dark.

A pawn?! At LEAST the knight! You people and deer have no manners! None!

Ferdinand turned his burning gaze and hissing beak towards the bleating deer, feathers fluffing. Done with warnings, he gripped his sword, and menacingly pointed it at the daring knight of the woods, and his wild heart.

Without pause! Onward!

His blade’s garnets glinted as the goose darted forward, once shattered blade stabbing against brown fur.
DF  Post #: 5
1/30/2023 22:34:51   
markthematey
Member

“With this line, you have the right to snuff out the souls of those who don’t believe. The ability to enforce the will of the Holy Scripture.” ~The Scripture, Chapter of the Followers, Kasdil



Music begins and envelops the stage. A sickening and maddening tune that feels ever so freeing to the mind. Another force to play with Kasdil’s mind; Another unwanted intruder to his soul.

Kasdil peers at the other spotlights. The first held… A goose? Do these gods jest at me with this? the bewildered wanderer deliberates. A second glance reveals more to the fowl. All the animals Kasdil has hunted had the plainest of souls. Ones of a single color with little variety of expression within them. Their soul is reminiscent of strong winds through a forest. Deep greens and black but with a flair of red. A powerful soul held within the frailest of bodies. A strange feeling of reverence with a hint of loathing pinches the back of Kasdil’s mind. For why did the Scripture give you such a beautiful soul?

Kasdil pulls his eyes off the poultry to the next spotlight. In this light held a tall but powerful red stag. An incredible pair of antlers with ribbons adorns its head. Most interestingly is their spirit. Similar in ways to the goose’s full of greens, browns, and streaks of reds but calling them the same would be a disgrace to the Scripture’s brilliant design. This one has an air of pine boughs that flows through the winds. A sense of agility can be felt by simply gazing at the soul. Another beast with a soul more pleasant than his own.

Kasdil’s eyes betray him as he glances down at his hands, catching a glimpse of his own soul. The putrid graining tan of spotted sand. A vast yet still ocean of grains holds nothing. The only thing within it is a harsh wind that smothers all. Before Kasdil can see anymore, he looks away. Kasdil is far too familiar with his own soul. The Scripture made this repugnant soul but I will fix it.

Kasdil’s eyes fall on his last opponent, a lady in a tattered dress with a bandaged arm. The most interesting feature is her mask, a jet-black mask that covers her face except for a pair of foggy blue eyes. Above all is her soul, an inky black that seems smeared. As if something was blurring it entirely. The only attribute to it is a tiny white spot at its center.

The sounds of swelling music overtake Kasdil’s pondering mind. The eerie crescendo is followed by an all-present voice that looms over the theatre.

“Welcome to the Field of Song. No Good can applaud you; no Evil can end your performance. Prove yourselves worthy, Pawns, or perish in the silent dark.”

The stage is set and the audience is ready, all they need to do is perform.

A compulsion subtlety yet noticeably waves over Kasdil. The music nearly asks,
how he could stay still during such an emotional performance?” If the gods wish us lowly pawns to dance then I shall dance.

Well-trained intuition takes hold and Kasdil bounds forward to the most human target. Intrusive words of the Scripture invade his mind once more. “Hold fast; Those who are devout. Move without question. Act in the face of doubt. Your actions have already been determined and your sins have already been forgiven.” The Reader told Kasdil this prayer was specially crafted for him, to repeat this whenever he takes action in the name of the Holy Script. Sickening bile builds in Kasdils stomach, my actions are my own he thinks bitterly.

He pushes the thought aside and dashes towards the masked lady. The spotlight follows as if he is the star of this theatric display. Kasdil swaps his grip to let his right hand hold the neck of the gun. Raising his weapon, he prepares the bayonet for a deadly slash down toward the lady's neck. A quick kill lets the leave smoothly, a grace in itself. One Kasdil has witnessed many times.

The woman in tattered clothing is prepared. Raising a clawed hand Kasdil hadn’t noticed before, it so cleanly blends into the dress it nearly looks like an extension to it. She intercepts the swing cleanly and sharply pushes back. The strength behind the shove catches him off guard, causing him to stumble a step back. A single misstep is all the foe needs to capitalize on the situation.

The claw stretches forward in a deadly counter-attack. Kasdil raises his gun to block the strike. As it connects, he spins the tool. Dancing to the side, he spins with the strike causing the butt of the gun to swing in a deadly arch toward the lady once more.

She is able to dodge it narrowly while backing off, creating a gap between two the combatants. Kasdil raises his gun so the barrel faces the opponent. Though it is empty, she does not know that.

In this brief lapse in action, one of the commandments from the Scripture comes to his mind once more. These ever-present rules that dominated his prior life could never truly leave his thoughts. “Capture the names of all who enter the script of your life, for without them your scripture will never be complete”

Kasdil pauses for a moment and thinks for another. With his gun still pointing at the figure in front of him, he speaks in a soft consistent voice.

“They call me Kasdil. What do they call you, blurred soul.”
Post #: 6
1/31/2023 2:24:27   
Riprose123
Member

As the duck approached Leopold, Leopold looked again to the warrior with a symbol that matched his. He bugled a call, his neck shaking and nostrils flaring, rooting on the warrior in the flurry of melee that occurred. Turning his attention back to the duck, his eyes flashed a dark green before returning to brown as the Green let him know it was with him.

Leopold could remember his first encounter with the Green. It had been a fair spring day and he had been walking the fields near the forest with his mother. She had been a proud doe, regal, tall and full of life. He frolicked around the wildflowers, leaping high and ducking low. He had been nothing but a fawn then, and his nose was always in something or other. His mother had often told him that his curiosity would wear the spots off his rump if he was not careful. “Is that even possible?” he would ask, knowing full well the white spots were a part of his fur and therefore a part of him.

“The Green will make it so,” his mother would say.

His mother was one of the greatest priestesses in the forest. Head of the Does, she was in touch with the Green so closely that everywhere she walked, flowers blossomed, and when she cried it poured for days. The Forest itself changed with her.

Leopold had wandered off that day, well within smell shot of his mother, but far enough away she couldn’t see him. He was nearly oblivious to the wolf that creeped within the shadows and as it jumped to kill the unknowing fawn, vines jumped from his head to his defence. THey lashed and tied the wolf, forcing it up and away, and Leopold jumped in fright, not knowing the power that appeared before him. “Mother!” he bellowed, “I’ve sprouted vines!”

His mother chuckled at her fawn, nuzzling his nose in worry. “No my child,” she explained, licking his nose and inspecting him for wounds, “the Green has decided you will be it’s wielder. Use it in protection and it will always come to your aid.”

Back in the present, Leopold bowed his head as the bird flew towards him. The duck’s sword was held aloft and flying towards his chest in an aggressive stab. Giving a small prayer to the Green, his eyes snapped open as he caught the blade in his antlers, twisting his head slightly, catching the blade between two tines and jerking his head up slightly, forcing the blade up with his strong neck.
DF MQ  Post #: 7
1/31/2023 4:20:57   
Oddball
Member

To some, a battlefield may be akin to a maddening dance. Brief, yet hectic, flourishes of weapons and techniques one wouldn’t be surprised to find in a circus performance.

To others, it was a show of strength, of skill. Something to be taken with the highest degree of seriousness. To them? Combat was their life, their everything.

To Amerya? Well…

A job’s a job.


To her right, Amerya simply watched as the Goose turned its ire to the deer. Perhaps it would forget about her using it as a makeshift weapon?

Unlikely.

Geese never forget. She had learned that the hard way when she was younger.
Back when she didn’t have much to worry about…
Back when Asurah was alive.

Better times than these, when Amerya was just a normal, ordinary person and not…
Not some hideous monster masquerading as a human.

Normal people wouldn’t have the ability to distort things as she does, would they?


With the Goose occupying the Deer, that would only leave the one to her left, who she could get a better look at now that the humour of being suddenly transported to a strange area had worn off. They stood at, approximately, the same height as she did, and wore a large Shawl that covered most of their body in a brilliant Silver.

If they were wearing anything on their face, Amerya’s mask forbade her from perceiving it, with the enchantments working as intended. With her memory? She quickly learned that her brain had a habit of making sure she vividly remembered the faces of those she took the life of.
The Mask fixed that problem… It helped her, in more ways than she could count.

The Mask was her everything…

She needed it, it needed her.

She was trapped, trapped in this endless spiral of putting too much reliance on this one object.
And all she could do was watch as she felt herself depend more and more on hiding herself away from the rest of the world.

Her victims didn’t need to know who she was.

They only had to fear her.

Taking her time, Amerya slowly made her way forwards, keeping a trained eye on the being to her left. She often found herself wondering what her opponents looked like in situations like this and if she, somehow, knew them.

And if taking their precious, limited, life would affect her in any meaningful way.


Her opponent suddenly shifted forwards, sprinting towards her masked form with an intent to slay her. Fitting, for a beast such as herself, deserved no kindness. With a raised bayonet, the figure attempts a quick, clean slash to her neck.

She could just let it connect… Save her from this dark path she had willingly placed herself upon. An out was right there, there was nobody to mourn her proper, nobody to cry over her disappearance.

Her bond with her Mother was broken beyond repair, and her Sister was dead.

And yet…

Bandages suddenly rip themselves from Amerya’s left arm, revealing her horrible clawed appendage, a permanent reminder of what her ability was capable of, if she weren’t careful with it. Almost as if the arm itself was possessed, it is raised to catch the incoming lethal blow just in time.

Despite herself…


Despite everything.

She had to live

With a short yell, Amerya forces her attacker back, the strength behind her action forcing them to stumble backwards a step. But even that would be enough to capitalize on, if she were quick enough. With matching deadly precision, Amerya skates forwards with her arm held high, looking to bring the full force of the claw down on her opponent in one sweeping motion.

She tuts softly as she feels her blow miss its mark, instead finding it expertly deflected by her attackers weapon and, without skipping a beat, they twist the weapon. With a quick step to the side, they spin with their weapon before lashing out with the blunt end, hoping to catch Amerya with a deadly dazing blow.

Again, feeling as if her body was not her own, she pushes off with her front leg and narrowly avoids the strike, taking a couple of further steps back to gain just a small amount of distance.

Quite a silly idea, when your opponent has a gun.

Finding the barrel aimed at her, Amerya’s free hand finds itself raised from her side, and halfway through the motions of grasping something before her opponent finally speaks.

Dull, and monotonous. Just how she wanted it.

”They call me Kasdil. What do they call you, blurred soul?”

Blurred Soul? That was a new one… Her Mask protected her from similar types of vision, but she supposed that one who could look directly at the Soul would possibly be able to bypass the Masks’ enchantment.

That or it wasn’t working, which was an entirely different problem.

With a snap of her fingers, Amerya’s weapon found its way into her hands, seemingly appearing from thin-air. Its decayed, rusted appearance only seemed to be worsened by the permanent spotlight that followed each individual.

With a surprising amount of ease, Amerya lifted the great weapon and swung it in front of her. With the light shining on it, it was clear that this ‘Sword’ had no sharpness to it, and was simply a tool for an unhinged soul.

“Amerya. Amerya Walsh.”

Came her response before swinging the blade down to her side, its heavy weight making itself apparent as a deep “swoosh” followed the action. Her guarded stance had all but vanished, leaving the woman standing in an, almost, relaxed pose, with weapon tip resting against the ground and her claw arm lay slack at her side.

“Come, then.”
AQ DF AQW Epic  Post #: 8
2/1/2023 11:31:09   
Sylphe
Member


“In the dark prince's kingdom, the sun was young, with no regard to rules. It shone until it burned all out, and then slept for just as long. Days would last years and years, and so would nights.”

The blizzard had calmed, bringing about a gentle snowfall. And yet, the goose was still shivering as she spoke, his eyes beady and distant.



The spotlights merged as the blade and antler crashed. Ferdinand blinked against the sharp light, seeing nothing but white, but feeling a sharp scratch under his feathers. He hissed into the blade’s hilt, attempting to overpower - only to be, frankly speaking, tossed like a sack of potatoes when the deer lifted its head.

He was too small.

Ferdinand’s vision cleared with frantic blinks. Black. White. Brown. There. The enemy, tall and majestic with antlers that hurt.

So small.

Anger swelled in the bird as he finally remembered that he had wings, and used that wrath to power his flight, a new breeze cutting into his wound. He got lucky there - if this knight hit him head on, he’d be as good as dead. Deer didn’t fight the way geese did, going for throats and throwing insults, forcing one to yield and run. All a deer needed was a strike.

“Honk!”

Would that be all?

This size difference required additional, extremely thought through tactics of mental pressure.

“Honk!”

Would that be all, you weird horse?!

The honk, as resolute as it was before, held the tiniest of shivers. Pitch black. Light on the deer, light on the goose. Pitch black. He’d never seen darkness that deep on the farm, not even on the longest night.


It was his favourite place to sit whenever sad. He remembered craggy rocks. The cold, salty scent of the ocean as the waves crashed down below. He remembered looking out into the open, legs dangling off the rocky edge.

“How is a Dawn-child to lead us? That boy looks up at the blue sky and thinks that’s how dark the Night is supposed to be?”

A quiet sob hid nicely in the roaring wind. His tears, dried in a red sweater, easy to call off as the sea spraying too far. He had to be brave. The sky grew brighter each day.

"How is he to save us from the Morning?"



Perhaps the way to fight a giant was to not fight like a goose at all. With a sting in his heart, Ferdinand drew on the memory of light. Gray like a fading night.

No. He wasn’t afraid of little images that fluttered behind his eyes!

Gray like the glow behind overcast clouds!

With a mighty flap and an even mightier honk, the goose loosened two of its flight feathers. They shot towards the deer, one for each of its sides. His wings grew heavy with that final flap, causing Ferdinand to unceremoniously tumble on the wooden floor. Jingles and thuds, completely out of the song’s rhythm.

I’ll have to fight like a… hunter to save them! A flightless. A stinky.

The goose stared up at the stag bitterly, grip on its sword tightening.

A... human.
DF  Post #: 9
2/4/2023 0:34:12   
Riprose123
Member

Leopold rushed quickly forward, jerking his head upwards as he did. He left the goose flying forward with a defiant honk. While he had hoped to impale the pest straight away, he conceded that it had been a rushed counterattack, and a wild throw might be the best result he could have hoped for. He watched the bird fly up and begin flapping its wings, slowly falling back to the ground. A flash of movement he couldn’t quite make out caught his attention, two fast moving objects rocketing towards him in the darkness. He leapt quickly to the side, hoping to avoid whatever was rocketing towards him. He miscalculated his jump, the projectiles flying parallel to him instead of hitting him broadside, one bouncing off his armor plating, with the other tearing a shallow cut across one of the gaps of his armor, leaking a small trail of scarlet through his crimson fur. He snorted at the smell of his own blood. “You’ve scratched me duck, good show! Let’s see if you can keep it up!”



Worrying slightly at the sting at his side, he snorted loudly, more to himself than anyone in particular. If it was a deep wound, he would bleed and if it was a shallow cut, he would bleed a little less. He knew he could not let the pain dictate his movements. Spring lightly on his feet, he rocketed towards the goose. He sprung from one side to the other, feinting left, right, then left again before ending up in front of the goose on the right side. He raised himself onto his back hooves slightly, bringing his front ones up into the air and back down onto the goose, forcing his massive weight to his front hooves in an attempt to maim and crush the much smaller bird.
DF MQ  Post #: 10
2/4/2023 22:30:01   
markthematey
Member

“How do you define one's soul? Simply put, you can’t. You’ll never know the true depths of its meaning. That is only for oneself to discover. Only then will you understand the Scriptures’ text” ~The Speaker of the Scripture



The opening to this theatric comes to a close and a dramatic overture looms over the two as Kasdil waits for a response. The tension between them is only heightened by the dissonant track influencing their movements.

Kasdil couldn’t discern anything behind the jet-black featureless mask covering the lady’s face. The barrel of his gun continues to point at her as she seems to contemplate the question. The formality growing stale on him, he ponders her soul once more. Each soul has details that seem meaningly to one yet ever so important to another. Yet this one looks smudged. As if it lacks form altogether.

She snaps her fingers creating a sharp echo the permeates through the theatre hall. As she closes her fist a sword blinks into existence. A hulking blade stood taller than Kasdil himself and rust scaled the entirety of its mass.

As the blade flickers into existence, a sudden shift catches Kasdil’s eyes. The ink-stroked soul that envelops her frame changes dramatically. The black deepens more than Kasdil has ever seen before. The blurred edges get murkier and even less defined. Details become harder and harder to pick out, and the entire soul looks like it's been washed over. It is as if this darkness is making the soul lose its sense of self entirely. All that remains is an inky dark abyss.

Kasdil feels a bit of dread building in his chest. Despite their two souls being so different, he feels a twisted kinship as he watches it digress. One soul, a dark abyss, and the other, a desolate sand. Each soul is consumed and the remnants of what it once was fading.

“Amerya.” She swings the sword and relaxes her stance. “Amerya Walsh.”

The words broke Kasdil’s train of thought leaving him briefly stunned.

“Come, then.” Amerya continues. Her eyes glare expectantly at Kasdil but Kasdil pauses, Gun still raised. The words of the Scripture begin to come to mind but he forces them out. He speaks for himself.

“Your soul darkens…” his voice remains calm but a slight sense of urgency peaks through.

"Have no you wish to change it? Is that how you want to be defined?" This question is one he’s asked himself many times. He’s not sure how he wants to answer it himself but he’s been searching for an answer.

"Until I've enacted my vengeance? It is all something like me deserves," Amerya nearly spats back. The acceptance of what she's becoming cuts deeply into Kasdil. In a previous life, the words may have glossed past Kasdil’s mind. This is a person he has only just met and then tried to kill. Yet her soul spoke a story he could understand, if only partly. He may be seeing a story that truly isn’t there. Yet he disillusioned himself and believes there is a commonality between them.

"No fate is immutable, any soul can change." Kasdil with more urgency before. Saying these words for himself as much as he says them for Amerya. The spotlights around them start to fade. The shade distances the two as the words fail to find their mark.

“While your words may ring true for others... They will find no home here. It is already too late for me." Armya responds one last time. The lights around them flick off and silence stretches between the two of them.

A battlefield is no place to heal a broken spirit. Kasdil knew this all too well.

Kasdil stays on edge, not knowing what the next move will be. The lights flash back on as Amerya leaps forwards at Kasdil. The huge slab of iron arches death downwards. Kasdil quickly his feet dodges to the side. Kasdil continues to step back as the blade sweeps toward him once again. The blade swings inches away from his face and Kasdil plants his back foot.

He rebounds forward, slashing downwards with the bayonet on the blade. The blade bites through Armerya’s skin and a red strain leaks from the wound. He continues his attack, thrusting forwards but the attack finds no mark as she’s able to dodge out of the way.

In one last attempt, Kasdil switches the thrust, flipping his gun around to bludgeon her skull with the butt end of the weapon. A well-trained motion burnt into his muscle memory. His style allows one attack to flow into the next to try to catch his opponent off guard. Amerya raises her gauntlets and cleanly catches the weapon arch stopping the attack entirely. Kasdil hesitates slightly, the skill of the tattered dress lady catching him off guard.

The claw reaches forward, in a panic Kasdil moves to dodge the imminent strike but the attack didn’t come. Expecting the move, Amerya lunges forward with the butt of the blade cutting off his movement. She jabs directly into his gut with surprising force. His shaw gave no protection from the weight behind it.

The breath is forced out of Kasdil’s lunges and he finds himself unable to move as he sees the sword barrel into his torso. The force alone causes Kasdil to grunt in pain. A sickening crack is heard as a rib crack from the strike.

The incredible weight of the weapon sends Kasdil off his feet and tumbles away. His gun only stays with him thanks to the harness he holds onto barely. Catching himself, he moves to one knee but the pain from his rib stops him from moving anymore.

His free hand moves to the broken bone and holds it as pain emanates from it. He grips tight but isn’t grabbing the wound itself.

He focuses himself and his thoughts on his wound and into his glove. His fingers tingle as energy flows through them. As if he’s grabbing onto a glass panel, he gently places his hand around his soul that covers the wound. The soul solidifies around the wound and in a sharp motion, he tears off a shard of his soul. The sounds of glass shattering echo within his mind and a different type of pain pulses through his senses but disappears shortly after. His soul wavers but stays strong, for now. His hand fills with bright light from a small crystal. What seems like bleak desert sand almost drips off the shard, a physical manifestation of what he seeks to change lies in his palm. His broken rib grows increasingly numb and Kasdil glares up at Amerya.

The words of the Scripture repeat in his mind, A prayer he had repeated before many times.

“Hold fast; Those who are devout…”
Post #: 11
2/5/2023 1:10:07   
Oddball
Member

Amerya stood with long, patient breaths, eyes trained on her opponent of choice as she awaits any response from them. This sort of bout was new to her, she wasn’t exactly used to the whole “Honorable duel” thing…

She left that for those who still had honour left.

Her grip around Punishment tightened somewhat, and Amerya felt the muscles in her legs tense. Was it time to strike? Had her body decided that now was the time to break this silence between them?

Moments before Amerya could respond to her bodies’ want for violence, the one who had introduced themself as “Kasdil” spoke once again, breaking the tense silence that had fell over the two.

“Your soul darkens…” So the title “Blurred soul” wasn’t just a fluke, this one was capable of peering into the souls of those around them. She could only imagine what types of stories one's soul would tell, and she would ponder hers if she had the time.

”Have you no wish to change it? Is that how you want to be defined?”

‘Believe me, I’ve tried’, she thought to herself, looking back to simpler days, and how different her life was back then…

She wondered how Asurah’s soul might have looked in this same situation.

“Until I’ve enacted my vengeance? It is all something like me deserves.” Her answer was strong, resolute… But there was an underlying feeling of a burning hatred of oneself in the way she responded.

It was true, though, Amerya hardly saw herself as human anymore. Not with the weight of what she had done for her sister bearing down on the very essence of her soul. All the lives she had taken in the name of her own, selfish, need to fill this longing inside her…

That, and the arm didn’t help either.

”No fate is immutable, any soul can change” Came the response of the one who could observe the soul. While the Mask stole the emotion from the man’s words, they were still spoken with the respect and wisdom of one who had seen the change happen with their own eyes…

Hell, Amerya’s mother was further proof of the man’s words being truthful. She had brought herself back from the brink of despair and moved forwards, while Amerya had rooted herself in the past, chasing demons that she knew nothing about. No names, no faces, no leads… Just an endless maze she had willingly placed herself in.

The spotlights over the pair began to dim as Amerya’s body tenses further, she could feel her legs begging to be released from their stationary prison, and her arm shook with a ravenous fervor.

Her body craved violence, her being screamed at her to lunge forwards and take the life of the man daring to oppose her.

It was at this point, as the lights faded into darkness, that Amerya would give her response.

“While your words may ring true for others… They will find no home here. It is already too late for me.”

With the pair now both standing in complete darkness, Amerya takes a long, deep breath as she steels herself for what comes next as she finally gives in to her bodies’ demands.

Amerya’s spotlight shines its brilliant light on her as she leaps forwards into action, swinging Punishment down at Kasdil with all the force she could put into the blow. Unfortunately, the lights returning to their original brightness the moment Amerya started her assault gave Kasdil just enough time to step out of the incoming blow.

Not wanting to let Kasdil take advantage of the failed attempt on his life, Amerya twists with her weapon, swinging it in a wide horizontal arc towards Kasdil, who manages to just step back out of its range before springing forwards with blade raised. Amerya barely had time to think before Kasdil’s blade pierced through her padded clothing, and caught her skin.

A sharp pain made itself known as the strike from her opponent drew blood, Amerya grimacing under her mask as she clenched her teeth to fight through the blow. Kasdil continues through with his attack, thrusting forwards with the blade, possibly hoping to catch Amerya where she had already been wounded. Thankfully, this time, she was prepared, twisting her body to the side at the last moment to narrowly avoid learning what a knife through the chest felt like.

Once again, Kasdil’s assault continues, with him expertly flipping his weapon around and attempting to use the butt of his weapon as a bludgeoning tool. This strike was aimed directly for Amerya’s skull, and would definitely cause some issues further into the fight if the blow were to connect.

Again, on instinct, her clawed hand reaches up, and catches the weapon mid-strike. The pain of stopping a blunt instrument reverberated through her body, but she couldn’t let this small chance go to waste. It was time for a risky maneuver, one that Amerya could only hope her opponent would fall for.

Releasing her grip on Kasdil’s weapon, Amerya attempts to lunge forwards with the clawed hand, finding a dark smirk fall across her features as Kasdil falls for the bait and moves to step out of the way of the attack.

”Gotcha’...” With a hushed whisper, Amerya brings the pommel of her weapon forwards with all the force she could muster. Revealing that, while Kasdil was preoccupied with the immediate threat of the clawed appendage, Amerya had reversed the grip on her weapon, the massive rusted slab now trailing behind her.

Caught off guard, the strike connects with Kasdil’s gut with an intense force, causing him to pause for just the briefest of moments… And it was all Amerya needed. While her enemy was reeling from the force of her blow, Amerya swings in with the gargantuan slab of metal, the weapon finding itself crashing against Kasdil’s side with a spine-chilling crunch.

The force of the blow was enough to knock Kasdil’s feet from under him, sending him spiraling through the air and tumbling across the ground when he landed. Unfortunately, he seemed to be able to keep a hold of his weapon, the warrior quickly finding his balance and resting on one knee. However, from the way his hand shot to his ribs? Amerya’s blow had caused quite the lasting injury, and she was sure he wouldn’t be able to take too many more of those before finally succumbing.

Amerya silently watches as her prey weaves a strange magic through his body, and eventually holds a small, bright, crystal tightly in his hand. Rebellious, bright Silver stare into clouded, dead Blue as Kasdil glares up at Amerya from his crouched position.

Seems there was still fight in him.

Good, this would have been boring otherwise.

Lowering her weapon back down to her side, Amerya scrapes the tip of the blade against the ground as she brings it forwards, changing her grip back to a normal position. A strange, thin, smoke-like energy begins to wrap itself around Amerya’s claw hand, the fingers beginning to twitch and writhe like something was attempting to change them.

“On your feet. We are not finished yet.”
AQ DF AQW Epic  Post #: 12
2/5/2023 9:07:21   
Sylphe
Member

"The kingdom grew and changed with this young sun's whims. The sun didn't care about the prince and darklings it dreamed when dark. But its children did - offering a single droplet of sun's power to let them survive."



The deer leapt forward, unfazed by as much as a feather or two. It was menacing and so horribly large as it jumped side to side, its spotlight cutting through the darkness. A half flipper back like an indecisive fighter, Ferdinand stood his ground instead of running; even as his heart hammered in his chest, even as his feathers fluffed up in dread. There was no outrunning a deer. Not with short stubby legs like these. Not even with long and dangly legs the featherless stinkies had.

Light flickered and dimmed as the goose watched, beady eyes on guard. Its sword glittered when the spotlights merged and the deer's form came into view.

The dangly ones fought by shooting feathers. The dangly ones ambushed with teeth fused to a stick's end. The dangly ones had no care for rules of combat, and as the hooves came down with the ruffian's whole weight, Ferdinand understood why.

Now!

Goose flippers shot forward in a vain attempt to dodge by launching at the belly of the beast. He stabbed his prized sword forward in a thrust, right against the buck's stomach.

"Honk!"


His sword flashed red as it thrust against the solar fae's stomach. Stained bright orange like burning fire, it glittered with the sun's stolen light.

Dawn's Dread, coming for its name.

"The age of light ends before it began," He spoke, his voice shaking. "This is for my people. We we can't- we won't- cower under the light ever again."


For half a moment, his beak felt dangly. No feathers, just deep blue skin stained with fire. Ferdinand hesitated. As the violins swelled into a quiet crescendo the goose's blade couldn't dig past fur. The knight's hooves came down on the bird in a sharp flash of pain, brighter than any spotlight.

"The princess lay a horrible curse on the greedy prince."

An ancient sword shattered once again, to protect, to save.

A deep crack split the black sword in half, a mystical power absorbing some of the attack's strength. Two goose eyes glared at the deer, burning with malice.

"Honk!"
I am no duck!

Announced the goose, his whole body aching, several feathers falling out as it took a breath. The hilt of the twice broken sword fell out of its beak, its reds deepening as the goose trumpeted a deafening-

"Honk!"
I am your end!

It was too late to back down, a dangly, stinky prince would say.

No time is right to relent, the goose thought!
DF  Post #: 13
2/8/2023 22:30:16   
markthematey
Member

“This is my gift to you, my followers. Use your very soul in service of the Text.” ~The Scripture, The Story of the Beginning



Kasdil’s hand holds the very thing he wishes to rid himself of more than anything else. A small shard of the Scriptures’ oh so holy plan for him. It is exactly as the Scripture said it would be and he despises it more for that reason. The shard of his soul looks like a translucent crystal that has particles of sand endlessly drifting down the sides and dripping off before evaporating into a mist.

Amerya's demeanor stood tall above the kneeling wanderer. In a tone that seems nearly mocking to Kasdil, she speaks,

"On your feet. We are not finished yet"

Kasdil begins to stand, lights around him brightening as he rises. The pain from his side became more and more numb making it easier to take a stance. She’s more talkative than he first thought she would be, Kasdil muses to himself

"An ominous visage yet you show valor to not execute a wounded prey," He says a bit more brightly than normal with a bit of irony lasing the words.

The words meant to buy time but did come from a place of curiosity.

"It would be irresponsible of me to not give a Warrior like yourself a proper chance to fight back." Amerya retorts back. Kasdil found himself a little surprised. I didn’t realize you had a sense of honor, he ponders to himself.

"I’m no warrior, I've never accepted the title for myself. No matter who or what gives me that title" His words become more serious as he speaks. The last sentence losing lighthearted nature.

Kasdil moves the shard up towards his gun but Amerya is prepared. She immediately takes the moment to dash forward extending her ghastly claw forward. The attack lacks the ferocity of others, the intent to kill is not in this strike. Kasdil’s eyes train on her motion and see the true strike behind the feint.

Kasdil ducks and rolls under the upcoming attack, getting behind Amerya. In one swift motion, Kasdil slides the bullet into his rifle. The barrel now glows slightly as a dust-like soul mist begins to seep out of the chamber.

Landing from the roll, he quickly moves the now free hand to his collar. Loosening the shaw from its wrapped position, he notices a motion from behind him. Amerya spends no time responding to Kasdil’s dodge and turns to strike him with her massive blade.

Kasdil tears off the shaw, throwing directly towards her head. The brilliant silver cloth smothers Amerya’s vision. Wasting no time, Kasdil capitalizes on the opportunity, Taking his gun in both hands now, bringing the butt down on the side of the opponent's leg causing it to buckle. As her stance begins to falter, Kasdil raises his leg. Putting all his weight behind the attack, Kasdil kicks her in the chest. No shady trick is too low for him.

The heavy foot causes her to tumble back crashing onto the floor, disorientated. Kasdil didn’t wait for the blinded woman to land. He immediately levels his gun and with a deep breath out, he focuses his energy. His mind clears as a line from the Scripture overpowers all other thoughts. A prayer that he recites that commands his soul into one point.

“Follow the Scriptures’ path and no shot will ever be off its mark.” As he completes the prayer, anger flares in Kasdil’s chest. No matter how hard he has tried. He still cannot exist without the Scripture forever living in his mind. One day… he longs to himself.

From the corners of his vision, his soul becomes visible in its entirety. His soul looks like a vast endless desert that is impossibly dry. Harsh winds constantly kick the sand into the air, making a near sand storm that obscures it but doesn’t consume it in its entirety. Despite the storm, there's a calmness to it. As if the sand and the wind are working in harmony rather than against one another. Hidden within the winds, floating crystal shards can be seen in this desert that is endlessly pouring out the sand into the already full sea of sand.

This is the contents of his soul, shown in its full to all who look in its direction.

His eyes begin to glow brighter than before and his gun comes to life with energy as his finger pulls the trigger ever so slightly. The barrel points at the grounded target. The sides of the forestock fill with bright light.

Amerya has pulled the shaw from her head and begins to raise her claw to attempt to block the upcoming shot but no mere gauntlet could ever block an attack like this.

I apologize, Amerya Walsh.

The energy held within the gun pulses back towards Kasdil as he pulls the trigger. The wave of energy envelops him revealing his soul one last time as it passes. The energy makes a crystal-shaped pair of wings appear for a brief second before the energy fizzles and disappears. The wings are crude yet clear; Transparent yet fogged. Each crystal has an ever-flowing river of sand that pours out. They are a contradiction in every way.

A violent CRACK breaks through the musical accompaniment. Like a snap of lightning, the sound does not linger and disappears as quickly as it came.

The bullet moves at lightning-quick speeds and in an instant, it passes past Amerya’s gauntlet and directly contacts her chest. The energy from the crystal bullet hits directly into her spirit. The murky black abyss warbles as a wave of arid desert echo through it briefly. Amerya’s soul reacts violently as the soul rejects the foreign being forced into it.

A massive crack appears directly in the center of her soul. As if someone drove a nail into a massive glass window.

Post #: 14
2/8/2023 22:33:00   
Oddball
Member

A silent sigh of relief escaped Amerya as she felt her body relax somewhat. No longer were her legs begging to move towards her opponent, nor was her sword arm commanding her to strike. For just a brief moment, she was free from her instincts.

It wouldn’t last.

It never did.

Still, she couldn’t help but feel just a slight twinge of relief, knowing that despite everything? She was still able to cling to whatever shreds of humanity she had left… And resist the urge to pounce on a wounded enemy, especially one that showed they were capable of putting up a fight.

This brief pause in Amerya’s stride hadn’t gone unnoticed, and Kasdil had used this small lapse in time to push through the remaining pain, and raise back up to his feet.

"An ominous visage yet you show valor to not execute a wounded prey"

Came his, understandably, confused response to Amerya’s inaction. She didn’t quite understand it herself, perhaps this was her heart’s defiance? A vain attempt to prove to herself, and those around her, that she was more than some instinct reliant beast waiting to pounce on one who could not fight any longer.

Whatever the case, she felt an obligation to respond to her foe, showing him the respect she felt he deserved.

“It would be irresponsible of me to not give a warrior like yourself a proper chance to fight back.”

Right… Like you believe that?

Came her thoughts, dismissed as quickly as they had appeared with an unheard growl.
She was so tired of the constant battle within her mind, often finding herself on opposite sides of the same argument .

There could be no peace for her, not until her quest was complete.

”I’m no warrior. I’ve never accepted the title for myself. No matter who, or what, gives me that title.”

Came Kasdil’s response, one Amerya would suspect would sound passionate, and full of self doubt. So much so, in fact, that Amerya could swear she could almost pick up the emotions in his words…

Almost.

With the two focusing on each other once again, Amerya caught on that Kasdil was attempting to load something into his weapon, and that was something that she simply could not allow. Getting shot wasn’t exactly something she longed to feel again, just the one time was enough for her.

Dashing forwards with her sword trailing behind her, Amerya quickly closed the short gap between her and Kasdil, swinging her arm forwards and reaching out with her clawed hand.

It worked well before… Shall we try again?

Stopping her left arm from moving any further, Amerya swung her blade towards Kasdil, hoping to once again catch him off guard with a feint. But the fighter had caught on to her plan this time, preemptively ducking forwards, and rolling past her.
Not to let herself be stabbed in the back, Amerya followed through with the swing, swiftly spinning on her heels to catch Kasdil.

Shockingly, her blade didn’t find flesh and bone, and instead found itself caught up in Kasdil’s protective shawl, something that distracted Amerya long enough for her opponent to find an opening. Without warning, Amerya’s knee buckled as she felt something blunt strike her in the back of the leg, the masked woman holding back a sudden gasp as she found herself forced down to a knee.

The powerful kick to her chest that followed didn’t feel great either, Amerya’s padded clothing only being able to absorb a small amount of the force that was put behind the blow. Amerya coughed and spluttered as her body skipped across the cold floor, the ever present spotlight following her as if to guide Kasdil’s aim.

With a frustrated yell, Amerya tore the shawl off of her, more angry at herself for falling for such a cheap trick, rather than Kasdil employing it. Still, she had to give credit where credit was due, the tactic had finally given him a chance to land a solid hit on her.

When she tossed her gaze back over towards Kasdil, she had expected to see him with the gun trained on her…

What she didn’t expect was the spectacle that came with it.

The firearm was aglow with a brilliant light, with Kasdil’s eyes lit to match the vibrant display on offer. Swirling around his form was a mesmerizing sight of an ocean of sand, endlessly whipped into a violent storm and yet… Amerya couldn’t help but feel at peace. Watching as floating crystals of all colours pointlessly tipped sand into the never ending plain.

This serenity would not last very long, however, as the loud crack of the rifle being fired snapped Amerya back to reality, she had to act quick…

With no time to spare, Amerya brings her clawed appendage to her chest and digs the nails into her soft flesh with an agonized grunt, barely held back through gritted teeth.
She hated using her ability.

She hated it with a burning passion, even more so when she was forced to use it on herself.

There was nothing ordinary about this ability, and as she felt this twisted power quickly work its magic on her, a short yelp of pain finally escaped from her.

She could hardly be blamed, it wasn’t every day that one’s flesh was suddenly, forcefully, turned into a substance with the same consistency as cement. She could only hope that this would provide ample protection against the incomi-

C R A C K

Amerya’s thoughts left her, the breath that she had been holding onto forced itself to be expelled from her, now agape, mouth. Something…

Something was wrong.

She looked down at her weapon, witnessing it flicker frantically, almost as if it were screaming.

Something was very wrong.

Grabbing the handle of her weapon tight, she forced it to stabilize, exerting more of her soul into keeping Punishment tied to this realm.

Grunting, she uses the large slab of rusted metal to help herself to her feet, scraping it across the ground as she holds it behind her, her sword arm beginning to shake once more.


Out of fear, or anger, she couldn’t tell.

But one thing was for certain…

She was damn sure she wasn’t going to let him shoot her again.
AQ DF AQW Epic  Post #: 15
2/9/2023 8:59:34   
Sylphe
Member

“What happened to the prince you may ask? He turned into a crow!”

“Honk!”

“What? I promised a bird! I didn’t promise a go- Hey! Ow! Quit it!”

Her voice quivered as a noise tore through the snowfall outside. Distant voice, stomping boots.

“You’re too loud.” She whispered.



A loud crack tore through the tones. Sharp and gone just as fast. And in Ferdinand’s feverish red eyes, something flashed and clicked. Sharp, biting light, faster than the hooves can crush. That was how the humans fought and died.

That was how one killed a deer, without any regard to fairness.

A hoof flashed in the goose’s vision - and even as red as he saw, he wasn’t sure if it was the fury or the spark of dread in his chest that launched every flight feather at once. Four flashes of silver. A quiet thump, and a cloud of dust rising above the hard-wood floor, glittering in harsh light until it settled.

And then there was silence.

“...Honk?”
…Knight? Get up. I’m not done with you.

Ferdinand quivered, red washing away from all but the wounds.

“Honk?”
…Please?



He couldn’t understand the seasons at first, and perhaps later he stopped trying to. There were the grassy days, there were the muddy days, and then there were the cold days. Most of the days had grass, and there were so many Mornings now - one every day. Entirely too many, if you’d ask him.

He’d never expect the sun to darken with whipped up dust, and darkness to light with long, fire-breathing swords.



So he bowed his head to the fallen knight, eyes closed. The spotlights flickered, dampened their light, until darkness consumed them both.

Good night, woods’ knight. It was an honor.

For what cause, the goose wondered? Not that it’d matter. A saddened half honk left his beak as he remembered the deer he’d seen, prancing around the woodlands around the farm. They’d speak silently, with their eyes. Very unlike this one. And sometimes, the jays would translate their words to him.

It was a while since he saw a deer in the undergrowth. It was all muddy, now, with no good plants to nibble, and loud roars chasing them deep, deep into the woods.

It was too soon to see another one die.

It was necessary, Ferdinand thought as he glanced towards the last moving spotlight that cut through the dark. They howled, they fought and bled and yet were nothing like the other fighting humans he knew. With a final glance at the deer, Ferdinand decided. Killing to save many was the featherless way of doing things.

He’ll show the big things in the sky and everything else how geese fought. Be so loud and scary everyone runs.

He could be patient. He waited, until one back was turned, and then… And THEN! Devious tapping of flippers on hard wood of something running very, very fast. Spotlight coming back so bright it took light from his eyes!

He didn’t need sight to chase his target down, never! She’ll start running like the humans always did when he ran after them. Their fire breathing tubes meant nothing. Her goose-launching sword meant nothing. The goose’s heart fluttered as fast as his bell jingled, his beak wide open. He didn’t need weapons to fight as geese did. He needed nothing more than his beak and wings.

No swords! No masters! And no princes and kings doing Good Things for Their People with pointed ends and battlecries and stomped down mud where no grass could sprout.

“HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK!”
FACE ME, BIG! SWORD! GOOSE! THROWING! KNIGHT! MASK! WOMAN!

Nevermind. Battlecries were a very good thing for geese fighting stinki giants. The goose wildly snapped at first one of the woman’s ankles, and then another.

DF  Post #: 16
2/11/2023 22:43:14   
Sylphe
Member

“Go,” She whispered, trying to urge the stubborn bird forward and getting bitten in return. She didn’t laugh this time. She didn’t cry, either, even though he saw tears well in her eyes. Why was she taking his ribbon?

He liked it! It was her gift! Give that back!

“They’ll see you, stupid goose! It’s so red,” She sniffled. “I can’t have them take you too.”

"Honk!"

"What can a goose do? You gonna march into the king’s throne room and fight him?"



The goose honked with both determination and joy. The masked woman sure felt that one, else she wouldn’t make that sound! Just a little more and she’d be so annoyed she’d jump right off the stage!

“Came to enact revenge, have you?”

Ferdinand’s feathers fluffed in pride as he hopped back for a little bit of a distance, and trumpeted back.

I’m here to do so much more! I’m here to annoy you!

She wouldn’t like his teeth on her ankles, he knew that even before he spotted the enormous slab of a sword move. He felt his voice reverberate through his body as he honked, pure white light leaving his beak.

“Honk!”
And also to save my friend!

He pivoted to avoid the steel’s heavy fall, but it wasn’t quite enough. Pain crushed his right wing and the shoulder with it. Stars flooded the goose’s vision. All he felt was the wind of his unfortunate flight, the floor biting into his wing, and the knowledge that he’s been once again flung in an absolutely insulting fashion by a human with an unpeckable face. Something that looked like a white tumbleweed sped right past the other fighter with an unknightly squawk that slowly faded out into the music, and ended with a final quiet honk.

Unfortunately for the poor humans,

“Honk! Honk! Honk!”
That wasn’t nearly enough to kill.

His flippers tapped on the stage floor louder and louder as he ran right back into the fray. The goose was somehow no longer unarmed, wildly swinging a dagger’s handle it had nabbed off the second fighter - right as it flew by. It wasn’t the best weapon, but weapons were in presentation first and pain second!

“Honk!”
Your trickery means nothing to me! My brain is too large!

He’d figure out why it didn’t have a blade! Ferdinand hopped towards the other fighter, a single jingle signifying the danger as the surely just invisible blade stabbed into Ferdinand’s foe. Except then the enemy didn’t scream out in pain and Ferdinand and foe alike were left alone in a moment of confusion.

“Give that back!”

“...Honk!”
…No! I’ll use it to end you!

Or eat it! I’m not sure yet!

He was just about to start hitting the man with the handle when the ground rumbled. The floorboards heaved as the masked woman sprung into battle again, taking the stage for herself and sent the soft speaking human flying. Fury welled in Ferdinand’s throat as he saw just what was dropped.

It was a fire breathing tube sword.

The goose launched forward, dropping the useless dagger as much as he wanted to swallow it.

Just too much was at stake, and he wouldn’t be able to fight if he got a whole handle stuck in his throat. And if the blade ever decided to come out that would just be bad news. Ferdinand clasped his beak tight on the weapon. He remembered the hands of the humans and their fire swords. How they made their swords scream, how they set fire to the farm and the trees that surrounded it.

In the corner of his eye he saw the masked woman priming to attack. The goose’s eyes hardened, and he refused to fire. No, it wasn't bravery to hide behind flaming swords! It was more brave to be annoying to a giant, two giants, than to be deadly to the weak! Instead, he slammed the weapon into the woman's kneecap with a threatening jingle. The music swelled, and yet lagged in rhythm to his heart as he danced between the fighters' feet. Their dance was in no way as elegant as his, with all their gutpunches and grunts, but they finally all fought like geese!

With the roaring sword pointed directly in its owner's confused face, Ferdinand waltzed forward. No giants, no kings! No suns could shake him! He'll take aim even higher and swing at the big goose in charge of everything to save her!

His eyes glinted in red as his final honk echoed in time of his last swing that…

…Alright, maybe couldn't reach taller than the human's knees. But he needed nothing more than a single strike to bring a giant down before.



"What can a goose do? You gonna march into the king’s throne room and fight him?"

The water under his flippers gave way to darkness and stars. Ferdinand weighed his old sun-stained sword in his beak.

Wouldn’t be the first, nor last time.


DF  Post #: 17
2/11/2023 22:45:26   
markthematey
Member

“...” ~Journal of Kasdil, page 1



A sense of relief spreads from Kasdil’s fingertips. The way his gun slightly hums after the payload leaves the breach. How the light lingers from the barrel for just a second before fading away. This feeling spreads to the hands, down the arms, and eventually the rest of his body as well. A grim satisfaction that reminds him of simpler times. When all he had to do was shoot his gun and then turn his back. That relief is short-lived. Those memories are now scorned with the knowledge it was all for not.

Amerya sits dazed, unsure of what has exactly happened to her. Her soul still conflicts with itself unable to comprehend the attack that just took place.

Most don’t understand until it's far too late, Kasdil thinks grimly.

The sword in her hand wavers harshly, as her soul contorts once more. A strongly focused glance and the massive rusted slab of iron retakes its form.

Her weapon is a part of her soul. Kasdil ponders for a moment, taking in this realization. Another tie between the two becomes apparent but Kasdil steals himself.

“A battlefield is no place to heal a broken spirit.” The words return to his mind once more.

Kasdil prepares himself and begins to move forward, he would not let his wounded prey go so easily. In the performance and stage, the gods gave him, he wouldn’t fail to perform.

Changing his grip on his gun, he begins a charge. He takes his first step but from the corner of his eye, he notices something. The haze of a soul with an of the forest winds. The Goose attacks Amerya before Kasdil could finish his second step.

The scuffle is quick and Kasdil can barely understand what happens. A flurry of feathers ends with the side of Amerya’s massive blade colliding into the Goose. The weight of the attack sends it directly to Kasdil.

“HOOOOOOOO-” The goose quacks in a panic as it flies.

Barely dodging out of the way, the goose barrels past Kasdil, the wings lightly brushing him as it whirls away.

“-OOOOOooooooonk,” its cry gets softer after it passes.

Kasdil stands dumbfounded, his charge completely stops and confusion plastering his face. The expression breaks through his calm facade. He turns to see if the Goose is no more.

“Honk!”

To his surprise, it was hopping right up towards him, with a dagger hilt in its beak!

How did it get a- He looks down and sees his own coveted hilt is missing.

“Give that back!” he calls to it without a second thought. The befuddlement in his voice peaking through even more than before

“Honk!” It calls back in… defiance?

In his moment of confusion, the Goose leaps into the air plunging the dagger into his chest.

tap

The hilt bumps into his chest but it feels like nothing. There was no blade to sink into his flesh and no bullet in the hilt to ignite its powers.

It has been ages since Kasdil felt this way but he chuckle begins to brew in his chest. A laugh almost escapes his mouth. The insanity of the situation completely disarms him in the moment. He doesn’t even notice that Amerya has recovered and made her way toward him.

A heavy fist brings Kasdil to reality as hard as a sledgehammer. A clawed gauntlet catches him right under his chin. The force completely wipes the slight grin from his face. His head snaps back and his vision blurs for a second. Kasdil’s grip on his gun is completely lost as it falls from his hand.

Kasdil isn’t ready for the follow-up attack sure to come but surprisingly, he doesn’t feel a second impact. The ruffling of feathers is heard with an annoyed shout from Amerya as the goose intercepts the second attack. He doesn’t understand the bird's intentions but he won’t let such an opportunity go to waste.

Kasdil plants his back foot and launches his own fist out toward Amerya. The low punch hits hard into Amerya’s gut. The hit connects solidly giving Kasdil a chance to retrieve his weapon.

Kasdil retreats and looks to pick up his weapon from the ground but to his surprise, it isn’t there… He looks at the goose and IT HAS HIS GUN. His eyebrow twitches in annoyance.

Kasdil stands with no weapon in his hands. No armor over his body. No tools are left at his disposal. The only thing he has is himself and his own determination. Something that nothing else could write into existence. The only thing he could call his own.


In frustration, he shouts a cry. All the emotion held within flows out, no longer being throttled by himself. If they want performance, by the scripture… NO by myself, I’ll give it to them! Kasdil roars internally.

Kasdil Bounds forward toward the other two combatants. A goose and a warrior. Somehow, he will find a way to defeat them.

With his own bare hands.
Post #: 18
2/11/2023 23:26:58   
Oddball
Member

”The health of one’s soul is as important as the health of their physical form. It’s important that you remember this, Amerya”

”But why? If I keep my body safe, shouldn’t the soul follow?”

”Because, Dear Sister, physical wounds can be bandaged and treated quickly, while a damaged soul can last a lifetime.”

The younger sister huffed, raising Midnight back up to meet her sisters’ weapon, her hardened Grey eyes bearing down on Amerya’s own bright blue…

Eyes that were still full of wonder, and hope.

Before the incident that took Asurah from her.

Before her world was torn asunder.

She missed her sister, she wanted to see her again so desperately… But would she even recognise her? Would she accept her for who she was now?

What she had become?



She shook her head, forcing those memories out from her thoughts. There was no time to reminisce on the past, she was facing down an opponent who had affected her in a way she could have never imagined. Her grip on Punishment was tighter than it had ever been, and she prayed that it would keep her company until the end of this duel.

It had been through so much with her, it was her only constant companion on the path she walked.

Being lost in her thoughts, the unmistakable sound of flippers slapping against wood would, unfortunately for Amerya, not reach her consciousness. Her quiet reminiscing would come to a sudden end, with the roaring of an angry goose breaking her from her trance.

She wouldn’t have much time to react to the Goose’s violent honking, as she felt the snap of its beak against her heel, an action that brought quite a surprised yelp out of Amerya, the masked warrior quickly shuffling her position to get a better look at her attacker.

That damn Goose…

“Come to enact revenge, have you?”

She called to it, a tiny part of her wanting the response to be anything other than just a-

”Honk!” It screamed back, the animal’s feelings towards the woman making themselves clear.

See? Geese never forgot.

”Then I’ll take you both down!” Amerya felt her body’s instincts kick in once again, with Punishment finding itself swung at full force towards the animal. The Goose would attempt to pivot out of the way, but it appeared to have not taken Amerya’s ability to act as if the slab was weightless into account.

An unseen smirk found its way onto Amerya as she felt the blade catch the wing of Ferdinand, the force behind her blow sending the bird straight towards Kasdil. Hopefully, with the distraction, she could finish the humanoid warrior, and focus all of her attention on dealing with the feathered menace.

She looked down at her weapon, feeling it straining itself to stay attached to her side. It wanted to be with her, to see this battle through to the end…

But Amerya couldn’t let it. Even being used to exerting part of her soul like this? That attack from Kasdil had fractured it in a way she wasn’t sure she could recover from.

Just like Asurah had warned.

“Thank you. Your work here is done.”

With those words, Amerya removed her ironclad grip from the handle of her weapon, feeling the weight of the weapons’ projection finally lessen around her soul as the rusted slab faded into nothingness.

Now? Now it was just her.

Her,

Her Mask,

And her Arm.

And there was plenty of fight left in her.

She pounced forwards, almost kicking a hole into the wooden floorboards as she soared towards Kasdil, her clawed hand balling up into a fist as she was on him in a flash. Seemingly distracted by The Goose, it had given her just the opening she needed, as she put all of her force into an uppercut, catching the warrior under his chin with one, clean, strike.

She couldn’t let him recover, however, and her legs tensed to chase her staggered prey, only for a familiar pain to ripple through her right leg.

That Goose

That damned Goose!

Frustrated, she swipes at where the bird was, only to find air as it deftly avoided her attack.

You little… Come he-

She grunted in pain as her thoughts were forced out of her head, Kasdil having taken the opportunity for revenge by driving his fist into her gut with the approximate force she had, moments prior, sent his way.

She staggered back a couple steps, fist slowly clawing at her stomach as she fought off the rising bile in her throat, she felt her knees screaming at her to give in, to buckle and let them rest. But there was no chance that was happening.

Not while Kasdil and the Goose still drew breath.

Her opponent cried out in frustration, and Amerya responded in kind. A bloodthirsty war-cry, far removed from the cold and cunning personality she had shown Kasdil during their fight thrown to the wayside as she roared from her very core.

Asurah…

Amerya rushes forwards to meet the other two combatants, fist raised behind her, lungs rippling as she continues to belt her battlecry, a single thought making its way into her broken mind as the trio collide.

Guide my hand, Sister.
AQ DF AQW Epic  Post #: 19
2/12/2023 0:00:34   
  Chewy905

Chromatic ArchKnight of RP


 The song rose to a crescendo, before ending on a final, ringing note. The spotlights flared up, igniting the entire stage in their glow as thunderous applause overtook the stage. As suddenly as they had burned, the lights died, thrusting the Pawns into darkness as a curtain fell from above and cut the stage away from the invisible crowd beyond.

And then, light and silence. At the statue's feet yawned an empty gate, through it the spires of the Chequered City. A safe passage home. Though not for all, as several competitors had vanished in the shadows of the curtain’s call.

The Powers had chosen. The War had begun.

And the Song’s performance came to a close.

Post #: 20
Page:   [1]
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